During a period that should have been their happiest, Aylmer could only think of this disastrous subject. With the morning light, Aylmer opened his eyes upon his wife's face and recognized the sign of imperfection. When they sat together in the evening near the fire, he would look at the mark. Georgiana soon began to fear his look. His expression would make her face go pale. And the birthmark would stand out like a red jewel on white stone. "Do you remember, dear Aylmer, about the dream you had last night about this hateful mark?" she asked with a weak smile. "None! None whatever!" answered Aylmer, surprised. The mind is in a sad state when sleep cannot control its ghosts and allows them to break free with their secrets. Aylmer now remembered his dream. He had imagined himself with his assistant Aminadab trying to remove the birthmark with an operation. But the deeper his knife went, the deeper the small hand sank until it had caught hold of Georgiana's heart. Aylmer felt guilty remembering the dream. "Aylmer," said Georgiana, "I do not know what the cost would be to both of us to remove this birthmark. Removing it could deform my face or damage my health." "Dearest Georgiana, I have spent much thought on the subject," said Aylmer. "I am sure it can be removed." "Then let the attempt be made at any risk," said Georgiana. "Life is not worth living while this hateful mark makes me the object of your horror. You have deep science and have made great discoveries. Remove this little mark for the sake of your peace and my own." "Dearest wife," cried Aylmer. "Do not doubt my power. I am ready to make this cheek as perfect as its pair." Her husband gently kissed her right cheek, the one without the red hand.