Sir Maxwell Danby and young Lord Basingstoke had appeared, and stood at
the farther end of the room--Sir Maxwell fingering his silver snuff-box,
and shaking out his handkerchief, edged with lace and heavily perfumed;
while Lord Basingstoke looked round as if seeking someone; and Lady
Betty, taking it for granted that she was the person he sought, stood
up, and beckoned with her fan for him to take a vacant place by her
side.

This suited Sir Maxwell's purpose, and he said:

"Go forward when the siren calls or beckons. Don't be modest, dear boy!
What! must I make the way easy?" whereupon Sir Maxwell bowed, and
elbowed his way to the top of the room; and Lord Basingstoke found
himself left to Lady Betty, while Sir Maxwell dropped on a chair by
Griselda's side.

Miss Herschel was just beginning to sing the lovely song "Rejoice
Greatly;" and Griselda, spell-bound, became unconscious of the presence
of Sir Maxwell, or of anyone else. There was only one person for her
just then in the world--nay, it was scarcely the person, but the gift
which she possessed.

Caroline Herschel had at this time attained a very high degree of
excellence in her art, and Mr. Palmer, the proprietor of the Bath
Theatre, had pronounced her likely to be an ornament to the stage. She
never sang in public unless her brother was the conductor, and
resolutely declined an engagement offered her for the Birmingham
Festival. Anything apart from him lost its charm, and nothing could
tempt her to leave him. Her singing was but a means to an end, and that
end was to help her brother in those aspirations, which reached to the
very heavens themselves.

It is the most remarkable instance on record of a love which was wholly
pure and unselfish, and yet almost entirely free from anything like
romance or sentiment, for Caroline Herschel was an eminently practical
person!

At the close of the performance, Mr. Herschel told the audience that he
should not be able to receive his friends till January, and then he
hoped to resume his reunions in his new house in King Street.

"But," he added, "my sister and myself can still give lessons to our
pupils at their own homes, if so they please."

"What marvellous people you are!" said Lady Cremorne in her loud,
grating voice. "Most folks when they change their houses are all in a
fuss and worry. You talk of it as if you carried your household gods on
your back."

"So we do, your ladyship," William Herschel said,