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 that up here the stars appear of different colours at various distances,” said Miss Carmichael.

“Oh, yes,” answered Gazen, “and in the pure atmosphere of the desert, or on the summit of high mountains, we notice a similar effect.  The stars have been compared to the trees of a forest, in different stages of growth and decay.  Some of them are growing in splendour, and others again are dying out.  Arcturus, a red star, for example, is fast cooling to a cinder.  Capella, over there, is a yellow star, like our own sun, and past his prime.