Then she arose, and putting on the cloak she had used so many times before for
the same purpose, she locked her bedroom door (to be supposed within, in
case of the accidental approach of a servant), and let herself privately
out of the house.
Lady Constantine paused for a moment under the vicarage windows, till she
could sufficiently well hear the voices of the diners to be sure that
they were actually within, and then went on her way, which was towards
the Rings-Hill column. She appeared a mere spot, hardly distinguishable
from the grass, as she crossed the open ground, and soon became absorbed
in the black mass of the fir plantation.
Meanwhile the conversation at Mr. Torkingham's dinner-table was not of a
highly exhilarating quality. The parson, in long self-communing during
the afternoon, had decided that the Diocesan Synod, whose annual session
at Melchester had occurred in the month previous, would afford a solid
and unimpeachable subject to launch during the meal, whenever
conversation flagged; and that it would be one likely to win the respect
of his spiritual chieftain for himself as the introducer. Accordingly,
in the further belief that you could not have too much of a good thing,
Mr. Torkingham not only acted upon his idea, but at every pause rallied
to the synod point with unbroken firmness. Everything which had been
discussed at that last session--such as the introduction of the lay
element into the councils of the church, the reconstitution of the
ecclesiastical courts, church patronage, the tithe question--was revived
by Mr. Torkingham, and the excellent remarks which the Bishop had made in
his addresses on those subjects were quoted back to him.
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.