Around the
room were retorts, tubes, cylinders, crucibles, and other apparatus of
chemical research. An electrical machine stood ready for immediate
use. The atmosphere felt oppressively close, and was tainted with
gaseous odors, which had been tormented forth by the processes of
science. The severe and homely simplicity of the apartment, with its
naked walls and brick pavement, looked strange, accustomed as
Georgiana had become to the fantastic elegance of her boudoir. But
what chiefly, indeed almost solely, drew her attention, was the aspect
of Aylmer himself.
He was pale as death, anxious, and absorbed, and hung over the
furnace as if it depended upon his utmost watchfulness whether the
liquid, which it was distilling, should be the draught of immortal
happiness or misery. How different from the sanguine and joyous mien
that he had assumed for Georgiana's encouragement!
"Carefully now, Aminadab! Carefully, thou human machine! Carefully,
thou man of clay!" muttered Aylmer, more to himself than his
assistant. "Now, if there be a thought too much or too little, it is
all over!"
"Hoh! hoh!" mumbled Aminadab- "look, master, look!"
Aylmer raised his eyes hastily, and at first reddened, then grew
paler than ever, on beholding Georgiana. He rushed towards her, and
seized her arm with a gripe that left the print of his fingers upon
it.
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