away
from the carking cares and troubles of the world?"

The unwonted sadness of her tone reminded me of her devoted life, and I
turned towards her with new interest and sympathy. She was looking at
the Evening Star, whose bright beam softened the irregularities of her
profile, and made her almost beautiful.

"Yes," I answered, and the words "with you" formed themselves in my
heart. I know not what folly I might have spoken had not the
conversation been interrupted by Gazen, who called out in his unromantic
style,

"I say, Miss Carmichael! Won't you come and take a look at Venus?"

She rose at once, and I followed her to the observatory.

The telescope was very powerful for its size, and showed the dusky night
side of the planet against the brilliant crescent of the day like the
"new moon in the arms of the old," or, as Miss Carmichael said, "like an
amethyst in a silver clasp."

"Really, it is not unlike that," said Gazen, pleased with her feminine
conceit. "If the instrument were stronger you would probably see the
clasp go all round the dusky violet body like a bright ring, and
probably, too, an ashen light within it, such as we see on the dark side
of the moon. By-and-by, as we get nearer, we shall study the markings of
the terminator, and a shallow notch that is just visible on the inner
edge of the southern horn. Can you see it?"

"Yes, I think I can. What is it?" replied Miss Carmichael.

"Probably a vast crater, or else a range of high mountains intercepting
the sunlight, and making a scallop in the border of the terminator.
However, that is a secret for us to find out. We know very little of the
planet Venus--not even the length of her day. Some think it is eight
months long, others twenty-four hours. We shall see. I have begun to
keep a record of our discoveries, and some day--when I return to town--I
hope to read a paper on the subject before the most potent, grave, and
learned Fellows of the Royal Astronomical Society--I rather think I
shall surprise them--I do not say startle--it is impossible to startle
the Fellows of the Royal Astronomical Society--or even to astonish
them--you might as well hope to tickle the Sphinx--but I fancy it will
stir them up a little, especially my friend Professor Sylvanus Pettifer
Possil. However, I must take care not to give them the slightest hint of
what they are to expect beforehand, otherwise they will declare they
knew all about it already."

"Has it struck you