This time, underneath his preposterous manner and fantastic speech, both Lady Enid and the Prophet fancied that they could detect an element of real gravity, even perhaps a hint of weighty censure which made them both feel very young--rising two, or thereabouts. “I was originally led to study stars, Sir Tiglath, because I had the honour to meet you and make your acquaintance,” said the Prophet, valiantly. The astronomer lapsed at once into his first manner. “In what fair company did the old astronomer converse with the young man?” he cried. “His memory faileth him. He doteth and cannot recall the great occasion.” “It was at the Colley Cibber Club, Sir Tiglath,” said the Prophet, firmly. “But we--we did not converse. You had a--a slight indisposition.” “Would you venture to imply--in the presence of your notable granddam--that one had looked upon the wine when it was red, young man?” “You had a glass of port by you certainly, Sir Tiglath. But you also had a cold which, you gave me to understand--by signs--had affected your throat and prevented you from carrying on conversation. “Then was it the vision of the old astronomer’s personal and starry beauty that led you, hot foot, to Venus through yonder telescope? Oh-h-h-h!” “I did not take observations of Venus first,” answered the Prophet, with a certain proud reserve. “I began by an examination into ‘The Milky Way.’” Sir Tiglath impounded another crumpet. “Go on, young man,” he cried. “The old astronomer lendeth ear.” The Prophet, who felt very much like a nervous undergraduate undergoing a _viva-voce_ examination, continued,-- “I became deeply interested, strongly attracted by the--the heavenly bodies. They fascinated me. I could think of nothing else.” Lady Enid’s Scottish lips tightened almost imperceptibly. “I could talk of nothing else,” proceeded the Prophet. “Could I, grannie?” “No, indeed, Hennessey,” assented Mrs. Merillia. “All other topics were banished from discussion.” “All,” cried the Prophet, with increasing fervour and lack of self-consciousness. “I could not tear myself from the telescope. I longed for a perpetual night and found the day almost intolerably irksome.” Sir Tiglath’s brick-red countenance was irradiated with a smile that did not lack geniality. “The old astronomer lendeth attentive ear to the young man’s epic,” he roared, through the crumpet. “He approveth the young man’s admiration for the heavenly bodies. Go on.” But at the last command the Prophet seemed suddenly to jib. The reserved expression returned to his face. “That’s all, Sir Tiglath,” he said. The astronomer and Mrs. Merillia again exchanged a glance which was not unobserved by Lady Enid. Then Sir Tiglath, with an abrupt and portentous gravity, exclaimed in thunderous tones,--