A Slip Under The Microscope

The laboratory was warm and yellow-lit, while outside a grey fog pressed against the windows. Glass jars with dissected animals stood on each table, and shelves held preserved specimens and anatomical drawings. The students had just left for a lecture, leaving the demonstrator alone with the quiet clicking of his microtome.

Soon the lecture ended and students returned, forming small groups and talking. Among them was Hill — a confident, serious young man from a poor background — and Wedderburn, a neat and polished student from a wealthy family. Also present was Miss Haysman, a thoughtful girl with brown eyes who quietly listened to their debates.

They discussed science and life. Hill believed everything was material and that morality came from reason alone. Others argued there must be higher ideals. Miss Haysman listened with interest, especially to Hill. She had borrowed and returned books from him, and their conversations slowly became more personal.

Hill lived simply, supporting himself with little money. He dreamed of improving society and admired great reformers. He spent nights debating philosophy and days studying hard. Yet lately, his attention wandered — often toward Miss Haysman. She respected his intelligence, and he admired her education and kindness.

After the first examination results, Wedderburn ranked first and Hill second. Hill congratulated him but secretly felt jealousy. Seeing Wedderburn talking comfortably with Miss Haysman deepened his resentment. To Hill, Wedderburn represented privilege — the kind of advantage Hill never had.

Hill now studied harder than ever. He wanted to surpass Wedderburn and prove himself worthy — not only academically but in Miss Haysman’s eyes. The second examination arrived, including a practical test using microscopes.

During the test, Hill accidentally moved a slide he had been instructed not to touch. The movement revealed the specimen clearly — a lenticel from a plant stem — making identification easy. Shocked, Hill hesitated. No one seemed to notice.

He faced a moral dilemma.

If he wrote the answer, he might win first place. If he left it blank, Wedderburn would likely beat him again. He reasoned that the movement had been accidental, almost like fate revealing the truth. After agonizing, he wrote the correct answer.

When results were posted, Hill ranked above Wedderburn by one mark. He received praise and Miss Haysman’s admiration. Outwardly, he had achieved victory — yet inwardly he felt restless.

A memory haunted him: his hand moving the slide.

No one knew, but he could not forget. The success felt false. He became irritable and unhappy, and even his speeches about honesty and justice sounded hollow to himself. His affection for Miss Haysman became painful because he felt unworthy.

Finally, unable to bear the guilt, Hill confessed to Professor Bindon.

He explained the accident and his decision to use the knowledge. The professor listened but treated the act as cheating regardless of intention. Rules required punishment. Hill would fail the examination and likely lose his scholarship.

Hill was devastated. He had expected only a deduction of marks, not complete failure. Yet the professor insisted rules were absolute.

Realizing the consequences, Hill left silently.

The next day, students learned the truth. Many were shocked. Wedderburn mocked the idea of Hill being moral, while others whispered about his background. But Miss Haysman refused to believe it until hearing it from Hill himself.

Hill never returned to class.