As for Bishop Helmsdale himself, his instincts seemed to be to allude in a debonair spirit to the incidents of the past day—to the flowers in Lady Constantine’s beds, the date of her house—perhaps with a view of hearing a little more about their owner from Louis, who would very readily have followed the Bishop’s lead had the parson allowed him room. But this Mr. Torkingham seldom did, and about half-past nine they prepared to separate.
Louis Glanville had risen from the table, and was standing by the window, looking out upon the sky, and privately yawning, the topics discussed having been hardly in his line.
‘A fine night,’ he said at last.
‘I suppose our young astronomer is hard at work now,’ said the Bishop, following the direction of Louis’s glance towards the clear sky.
‘Yes,’ said the parson; ‘he is very assiduous whenever the nights are good for observation. I have occasionally joined him in his tower, and looked through his telescope with great benefit to my ideas of celestial phenomena. I have not seen what he has been doing lately.’
‘Suppose we stroll that way?’ said Louis. ‘Would you be interested in seeing the observatory, Bishop?’
‘I am quite willing to go,’ said the Bishop, ‘if the distance is not too great. I should not be at all averse to making the acquaintance of so exceptional a young man as this Mr. St. Cleeve seems to be; and I have never seen the inside of an observatory in my life.’
The intention was no sooner formed than it was carried out, Mr. Torkingham leading the way.
XXVI
Half an hour before this time Swithin St. Cleeve had been sitting in his cabin at the base of the column, working out some figures from observations taken on preceding nights, with a view to a theory that he had in his head on the motions of certain so-called fixed stars.