In his letters to her, Huxley had not at first realised the danger she had been in; and afterwards tried to keep her spirits up by a cheerful optimism that would only look forward to their joyful union and many years of unbroken happiness to atone for their long parting.

But the reality alarmed him.  He took her to one of the most famous doctors of the day, as if merely a patient he was interested in.  Then as one member of the profession to another, he asked him privately his opinion of the case.  “I give her six months of life,” said Aesculapius.] “Well, six months or not,” [replied Huxley,] “she is going to be my wife.” [The doctor was mightily put out.  “You ought to have told me that before.”  Of course, the evasive answer in such a contingency was precisely what Huxley wished to avoid.  Happily another leading doctor held a much more favourable opinion, and said that with care her strength would come back, slowly but surely.]

14 Waverley Place, Wednesday.

My dear Hooker,

My wife and I met again on Sunday last, and I have established herself, her father and mother, close by me here at 8 Titchfield Terrace, Regent’s Park, and whenever you and Mrs. Hooker are in this part of the world, and can find time to call there, you will find her anything but surprised to see you.

God help me!  I discover that I am as bad as any young fool who knows no better, and if the necessity for giving six lectures a week did not sternly interfere, I should be hanging about her ladyship’s apron-strings all day.  She is in very bad health, poor child, and I have some reason to be anxious, but I have every hope she will mend with care.

Oh this life! “atra cura,” as old Thackeray has it, sits on all our backs and mingles with all our happiness.  But if I go on talking in this way you will wonder what has come over my philosophership.

Ever yours,

T.H.  Huxley.

[Black Care was still in the background, but had relaxed her hold upon him.  His spirits rose to the old point of gaiety.  He writes how he gives a lively lecture to his students, and in the midst of it satan prompts him to crow or howl—­a temptation happily resisted.  He makes atrocious puns in bidding Hooker to the wedding, which took place on July 21.]

Jermyn Street, July 6, 1855.

My dear Hooker,

I ought long since to have thanked you in Thomson’s name as well as my own for your “Flora Indica.”  Some day I promise myself much pleasure and profit from the digestion of the Introductory Essay, which is probably as much as my gizzard is competent to convert into nutrition.

I terminate my Baccalaureate and take my degree of M.A.-trimony (isn’t that atrocious?) on Saturday, July 21.  After the unhappy criminals have been turned off, there will be refreshments provided for the sheriffs, chaplain, and spectators.  Will you come?  Don’t if it is a bore, but I should much like to have you there.