Her Season in Bath Part 25

"And so I say farewell, my only love.

"L. T."

A strange calm seemed to have come over Griselda as she read these words.

The restlessness and feverish anxiety of the preceding days were gone.

In their place was the firm resolve--immediately taken--to stop this duel with her own hand. That resolution once taken, she did not falter. But Claverton Down!--how should she reach it? There was no time to lose. The dawn broke between seven and eight--it was now four o'clock and past.

The Bible lay open on the table, and her eye fell upon the words: "They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on wings like eagles; they shall walk and not be weary; they shall run and not faint." I do not think that Griselda had ever known up to this moment what it was to wait on the Lord. Perhaps faithful Graves's words had struck deeper than she knew!

"I want strength now," she said. "Give it to me, Lord! Direct me--help me--for I must go on this quest alone."

Then she made ready for her departure, wrapping herself in the long cloak she had worn when she went to her father's dying bed, and covering her face with a thick veil under her hood.

The few hours' sleep had refreshed her, and she felt strong to perform her mission.

"Only not to be too late," she said; "not too late!"

The courage of many a woman would have failed in prospect of a walk in the dark through the suburbs of Bath.

There were watchmen here and there, and she might ask the way of one, perhaps; but no one must know her errand, or she might be stopped from performing it.

The clock struck five, in deep sonorous tones just as Griselda crept noiselessly downstairs, and with trembling hands drew back the bolts of the door, turned the key in the lock, and, closing it behind her, went out into the winter's morning.

The sky had cleared, and the rain of the past two days had ceased. There were breaks in the clouds, and in a rift Venus, in full beauty, seemed to smile on Griselda with the smile of a friend.

Widcombe Hill had to be climbed, and then beyond, at some distance, Claverton Down stretched away in gentle undulations. In 1790, it was a desolate and unfrequented tract of moorland, with here and there a few trees, but no sign of habitation except a lonely cottage or hut, at long distances apart.

Griselda's figure, in its black garments, did not attract attention from a boisterous party who had just turned out from a night's revel. Their coa.r.s.e songs and laughter jarred on her ear, and she shrank under the shadow of a church portico till they had pa.s.sed.

Presently the watchman's voice broke the stillness as he ascended Widcombe Hill.

"It's just six o'clock, and a fine star-lit morning."

Yes, it was a fine morning. The rift in the clouds had widened, and above, the sky was clear, and the host of heaven was s.h.i.+ning in full glory.

After two or three nights, when dull lowering skies had made astronomical observations impossible, the change in the weather was welcome to those who "swept the heavens," and found in them the grand interest and beauty of their lives.

The Herschels had returned to their new home, after a long and fatiguing day in Bristol. There had been not a little worry connected with the arrangements for the oratorio, the proper distribution of the parts, jealousies amongst the performers, and missing sheets of score. But Caroline Herschel immediately recommenced the arrangement of the new house, which a day's absence in Bristol had interrupted. The sorting of books and music, the instruction of Betty in her duties, with not a little scolding for the neglect of the work she had been left to get through during her mistress's absence.

Mr. Herschel, after taking slight refreshment, went to his new observatory at the top of the house, and began to arrange all his instruments and draw a plan for the furnace, which he intended to make in the workshop below, where the tube for the great reflector was to be cast.

A stand, too, for the large instrument would have to be carefully constructed, and William Herschel was in the midst of his calculations for this, and preparation of a plan to give the workmen early on the ensuing week, when a tap at the door announced Caroline.

"William!" she said, "the sky is clear. Venus is s.h.i.+ning gloriously.

Can I help to arrange the telescope?"

"Yes--yes," William Herschel said, going to the window and throwing it up. "Yes; lose no time, for it is getting on for morning."

Presently Caroline said, as she looked out:

"There is a chaise waiting at the end of the street, with post-horses."

But her brother's eyes were directed upwards, and he scarcely noticed her remark.

"Well," he said, "get the micrometer."

Caroline's feminine curiosity was roused, and presently she saw a figure m.u.f.fled in a long cloak glide down the street to the opening where the carriage stood.

This was followed by another, and then, after some delay, the chariot drove off.

Alexander Herschel did not generally take part in these nightly vigils, although he lent his a.s.sistance in the daytime in the workshop, and in the correspondence about the music, which was very frequently necessary.

But about six o'clock Alexander appeared, and said:

"Did you hear carriage-wheels roll off not long ago?"

William Herschel did not answer. He had just brought a double star into the proper focus, and Caroline stood by with note-book and pencil, ready to write at his dictation.

"Yes," she said, in a low voice; "I heard carriage-wheels. What of that?"

"There is a rumour in the town that Leslie Travers is to fight a duel on Claverton Down--with that beast, Sir Maxwell Danby--this morning."

"I do not believe it is true," Caroline answered. "Hush, Alex!" for William Herschel called out: "Write! Attend!"

The necessary figures were jotted down, and then Caroline said:

"Do you think Leslie Travers was going off in that carriage?"

"I have no doubt of it. I shall follow and find out."

"Take care, Alex--do not get mixed up in any quarrel; and there is the new anthem of Spohr's at the Octagon this morning. You will be wanted."

"Well, what if I am?" Alexander said. "Surely, Caroline, the life or death of a friend is of more importance than an anthem?"

"You do not know that it is life or death; you are conjecturing. Yes, William, I am ready!"

This was characteristic of Caroline Herschel. It was not really that she had no human sympathies or affections; on the contrary, her love for her brother was absorbing, and she had but one aim--to soar with him to the unexplored regions of s.p.a.ce; and to effect this, the business in hand, whether it was music, or mixing loam for the mould of the new tube, or in giving a lesson in singing, or in singing herself at a concert, was paramount with her. Such characters, persistent, and with single aims, are often misunderstood by natures like Alexander Herschel's, who love to skim the surface, and pa.s.s from one thing to another, as their mood changes.

"You take it mighty coolly," he said, "that the life of a man we call our friend is in peril. I confess I am not so hardened."

And then he closed the door with a bang, and ran downstairs.