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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11869 ***
+
+VENETIA
+
+BY THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, K.G.
+
+1905
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  'Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child?'
+
+  'The child of love, though born in bitterness
+  And nurtured in convulsion.'
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+LORD LYNDHURST.
+
+In happier hours, when I first mentioned to you the idea of this Work,
+it was my intention, while inscribing it with your name, to have
+entered into some details as to the principles which had guided me in
+its composition, and the feelings with which I had attempted to shadow
+forth, though as 'in in a glass darkly,' two of the most renowned and
+refined spirits that have adorned these our latter days. But now I
+will only express a hope that the time may come when, in these pages,
+you may find some relaxation from the cares, and some distraction
+from the sorrows, of existence, and that you will then receive this
+dedication as a record of my respect and my affection.
+
+This Work was first published in the year 1837.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Some ten years before the revolt of our American colonies, there was
+situate in one of our midland counties, on the borders of an extensive
+forest, an ancient hall that belonged to the Herberts, but which,
+though ever well preserved, had not until that period been visited by
+any member of the family, since the exile of the Stuarts. It was an
+edifice of considerable size, built of grey stone, much covered with
+ivy, and placed upon the last gentle elevation of a long ridge of
+hills, in the centre of a crescent of woods, that far overtopped its
+clusters of tall chimneys and turreted gables. Although the principal
+chambers were on the first story, you could nevertheless step forth
+from their windows on a broad terrace, whence you descended into the
+gardens by a double flight of stone steps, exactly in the middle
+of its length. These gardens were of some extent, and filled with
+evergreen shrubberies of remarkable overgrowth, while occasionally
+turfy vistas, cut in the distant woods, came sloping down to the
+south, as if they opened to receive the sunbeam that greeted the
+genial aspect of the mansion, The ground-floor was principally
+occupied by the hall itself, which was of great dimensions, hung round
+with many a family portrait and rural picture, furnished with long
+oaken seats covered with scarlet cushions, and ornamented with a
+parti-coloured floor of alternate diamonds of black and white marble.
+From the centre of the roof of the mansion, which was always covered
+with pigeons, rose the clock-tower of the chapel, surmounted by a
+vane; and before the mansion itself was a large plot of grass, with a
+fountain in the centre, surrounded by a hedge of honeysuckle.
+
+This plot of grass was separated from an extensive park, that opened
+in front of the hall, by tall iron gates, on each of the pillars of
+which was a lion rampant supporting the escutcheon of the family. The
+deer wandered in this enclosed and well-wooded demesne, and about a
+mile from the mansion, in a direct line with the iron gates, was an
+old-fashioned lodge, which marked the limit of the park, and from
+which you emerged into a fine avenue of limes bounded on both sides
+by fields. At the termination of this avenue was a strong but simple
+gate, and a woodman's cottage; and then spread before you a vast
+landscape of open, wild lands, which seemed on one side interminable,
+while on the other the eye rested on the dark heights of the
+neighbouring forest.
+
+This picturesque and secluded abode was the residence of Lady Annabel
+Herbert and her daughter, the young and beautiful Venetia, a child, at
+the time when our history commences, of very tender age. It was nearly
+seven years since Lady Annabel and her infant daughter had sought the
+retired shades of Cherbury, which they had never since quitted. They
+lived alone and for each other; the mother educated her child, and
+the child interested her mother by her affectionate disposition,
+the development of a mind of no ordinary promise, and a sort of
+captivating grace and charming playfulness of temper, which were
+extremely delightful. Lady Annabel was still young and lovely. That
+she was wealthy her establishment clearly denoted, and she was a
+daughter of one of the haughtiest houses in the kingdom. It was
+strange then that, with all the brilliant accidents of birth, and
+beauty, and fortune, she should still, as it were in the morning of
+her life, have withdrawn to this secluded mansion, in a county where
+she was personally unknown, distant from the metropolis, estranged
+from all her own relatives and connexions, and without resource of
+even a single neighbour, for the only place of importance in her
+vicinity was uninhabited. The general impression of the villagers was
+that Lady Annabel was a widow; and yet there were some speculators
+who would shrewdly remark, that her ladyship had never worn weeds,
+although her husband could not have been long dead when she first
+arrived at Cherbury. On the whole, however, these good people were not
+very inquisitive; and it was fortunate for them, for there was little
+chance and slight means of gratifying their curiosity. The whole of
+the establishment had been formed at Cherbury, with the exception of
+her ladyship's waiting-woman, Mistress Pauncefort, and she was by far
+too great a personage to condescend to reply to any question which was
+not made to her by Lady Annabel herself.
+
+The beauty of the young Venetia was not the hereditary gift of her
+beautiful mother. It was not from Lady Annabel that Venetia Herbert
+had derived those seraphic locks that fell over her shoulders and
+down her neck in golden streams, nor that clear grey eye even, whose
+childish glance might perplex the gaze of manhood, nor that little
+aquiline nose, that gave a haughty expression to a countenance that
+had never yet dreamed of pride, nor that radiant complexion, that
+dazzled with its brilliancy, like some winged minister of Raffael or
+Correggio. The peasants that passed the lady and her daughter in their
+walks, and who blessed her as they passed, for all her grace and
+goodness, often marvelled why so fair a mother and so fair a child
+should be so dissimilar, that one indeed might be compared to a starry
+night, and the other to a sunny day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+It was a bright and soft spring morning: the dewy vistas of Cherbury
+sparkled in the sun, the cooing of the pigeons sounded around, the
+peacocks strutted about the terrace and spread their tails with
+infinite enjoyment and conscious pride, and Lady Annabel came forth
+with her little daughter, to breathe the renovating odours of the
+season. The air was scented with the violet, tufts of daffodils were
+scattered all about, and though the snowdrop had vanished, and the
+primroses were fast disappearing, their wild and shaggy leaves still
+looked picturesque and glad.
+
+'Mamma,' said the little Venetia, 'is this spring?'
+
+'This is spring, my child,' replied Lady Annabel, 'beautiful spring!
+The year is young and happy, like my little girl.'
+
+'If Venetia be like the spring, mamma is like the summer!' replied the
+child; and the mother smiled. 'And is not the summer young and happy?'
+resumed Venetia.
+
+'It is not quite so young as the spring,' said Lady Annabel, looking
+down with fondness on her little companion, 'and, I fear, not quite so
+happy.'
+
+'But it is as beautiful,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is not beauty that makes us happy,' said Lady Annabel; 'to be
+happy, my love, we must be good.'
+
+'Am I good?' said Venetia.
+
+'Very good,' said Lady Annabel
+
+'I am very happy,' said Venetia; 'I wonder whether, if I be always
+good, I shall always be happy?'
+
+'You cannot be happy without being good, my love; but happiness
+depends upon the will of God. If you be good he will guard over you.'
+
+'What can make me unhappy, mamma?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'An evil conscience, my love.'
+
+'Conscience!' said Venetia: 'what is conscience?'
+
+'You are not yet quite old enough to understand,' said Lady Annabel,
+'but some day I will teach you. Mamma is now going to take a long
+walk, and Venetia shall walk with her.'
+
+So saying, the Lady Annabel summoned Mistress Pauncefort, a
+gentlewoman of not more discreet years than might have been expected
+in the attendant of so young a mistress; but one well qualified for
+her office, very zealous and devoted, somewhat consequential, full of
+energy and decision, capable of directing, fond of giving advice, and
+habituated to command. The Lady Annabel, leading her daughter, and
+accompanied by her faithful bloodhound, Marmion, ascended one of those
+sloping vistas that we have noticed, Mistress Pauncefort following
+them about a pace behind, and after her a groom, at a respectful
+distance, leading Miss Herbert's donkey.
+
+They soon entered a winding path through the wood which was the
+background of their dwelling. Lady Annabel was silent, and lost in her
+reflections; Venetia plucked the beautiful wild hyacinths that then
+abounded in the wood in such profusion, that their beds spread like
+patches of blue enamel, and gave them to Mistress Pauncefort, who, as
+the collection increased, handed them over to the groom; who, in turn,
+deposited them in the wicker seat prepared for his young mistress. The
+bright sun bursting through the tender foliage of the year, the clear
+and genial air, the singing of the birds, and the wild and joyous
+exclamations of Venetia, as she gathered her flowers, made it a
+cheerful party, notwithstanding the silence of its mistress.
+
+When they emerged from the wood, they found themselves on the brow
+of the hill, a small down, over which Venetia ran, exulting in the
+healthy breeze which, at this exposed height, was strong and fresh.
+As they advanced to the opposite declivity to that which they had
+ascended, a wide and peculiar landscape opened before them. The
+extreme distance was formed by an undulating ridge of lofty and savage
+hills; nearer than these were gentler elevations, partially wooded;
+and at their base was a rich valley, its green meads fed by a clear
+and rapid stream, which glittered in the sun as it coursed on, losing
+itself at length in a wild and sedgy lake that formed the furthest
+limit of a widely-spreading park. In the centre of this park, and
+not very remote from the banks of the rivulet, was an ancient gothic
+building, that had once been an abbey of great repute and wealth, and
+had not much suffered in its external character, by having served for
+nearly two centuries and a half as the principal dwelling of an old
+baronial family.
+
+Descending the downy hill, that here and there was studded with fine
+old trees, enriching by their presence the view from the abbey, Lady
+Annabel and her party entered the meads, and, skirting the lake,
+approached the venerable walls without crossing the stream.
+
+It was difficult to conceive a scene more silent and more desolate.
+There was no sign of life, and not a sound save the occasional
+cawing of a rook. Advancing towards the abbey, they passed a pile of
+buildings that, in the summer, might be screened from sight by the
+foliage of a group of elms, too scanty at present to veil their
+desolation. Wide gaps in the roof proved that the vast and dreary
+stables were no longer used; there were empty granaries, whose doors
+had fallen from their hinges; the gate of the courtyard was prostrate
+on the ground; and the silent clock that once adorned the cupola over
+the noble entrance arch, had long lost its index. Even the litter of
+the yard appeared dusty and grey with age. You felt sure no human foot
+could have disturbed it for years. At the back of these buildings were
+nailed the trophies of the gamekeeper: hundreds of wild cats, dried to
+blackness, stretched their downward heads and legs from the mouldering
+wall; hawks, magpies, and jays hung in tattered remnants! but all
+grey, and even green, with age; and the heads of birds in plenteous
+rows, nailed beak upward, and so dried and shrivelled by the suns and
+winds and frosts of many seasons, that their distinctive characters
+were lost.
+
+'Do you know, my good Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'that I have
+an odd fancy to-day to force an entrance into the old abbey. It is
+strange, fond as I am of this walk, that we have never yet entered it.
+Do you recollect our last vain efforts? Shall we be more fortunate
+this time, think you?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort smiled and smirked, and, advancing to the old
+gloomy porch, gave a determined ring at the bell. Its sound might
+be heard echoing through the old cloisters, but a considerable time
+elapsed without any other effect being produced. Perhaps Lady Annabel
+would have now given up the attempt, but the little Venetia expressed
+so much regret at the disappointment, that her mother directed the
+groom to reconnoitre in the neighbourhood, and see if it were possible
+to discover any person connected with the mansion.
+
+'I doubt our luck, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'for they do
+say that the abbey is quite uninhabited.'
+
+''Tis a pity,' said Lady Annabel, 'for, with all its desolation, there
+is something about this spot which ever greatly interests me.'
+
+'Mamma, why does no one live here?' said Venetia.
+
+'The master of the abbey lives abroad, my child.'
+
+'Why does he, mamma?'
+
+'Never ask questions, Miss Venetia,' said Mistress Pauncefort, in a
+hushed and solemn tone; 'it is not pretty.' Lady Annabel had moved
+away.
+
+The groom returned, and said he had met an old man, picking
+water-cresses, and he was the only person who lived in the abbey,
+except his wife, and she was bedridden. The old man had promised to
+admit them when he had completed his task, but not before, and the
+groom feared it would be some time before he arrived.
+
+'Come, Pauncefort, rest yourself on this bench,' said Lady Annabel,
+seating herself in the porch; 'and Venetia, my child, come hither to
+me.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'what is the name of the gentleman to whom this
+abbey belongs?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, love.'
+
+'I should like to know why Lord Cadurcis lives abroad?' said Venetia,
+musingly.
+
+'There are many reasons why persons may choose to quit their native
+country, and dwell in another, my love,' said Lady Annabel, very
+quietly; 'some change the climate for their health.'
+
+'Did Lord Cadurcis, mamma?' asked Venetia.
+
+'I do not know Lord Cadurcis, dear, or anything of him, except that he
+is a very old man, and has no family.'
+
+At this moment there was a sound of bars and bolts withdrawn, and the
+falling of a chain, and at length the massy door slowly opened, and
+the old man appeared and beckoned to them to enter.
+
+''Tis eight years, come Martinmas, since I opened this door,' said the
+old man, 'and it sticks a bit. You must walk about by yourselves, for
+I have no breath, and my mistress is bedridden. There, straight down
+the cloister, you can't miss your way; there is not much to see.'
+
+The interior of the abbey formed a quadrangle, surrounded by the
+cloisters, and in this inner court was a curious fountain, carved with
+exquisite skill by some gothic artist in one of those capricious moods
+of sportive invention that produced those grotesque medleys for which
+the feudal sculptor was celebrated. Not a sound was heard except the
+fall of the fountain and the light echoes that its voice called up.
+
+The staircase led Lady Annabel and her party through several small
+rooms, scantily garnished with ancient furniture, in some of which
+were portraits of the family, until they at length entered a noble
+saloon, once the refectory of the abbey, and not deficient in
+splendour, though sadly soiled and worm-eaten. It was hung with
+tapestry representing the Cartoons of Raffael, and their still vivid
+colours contrasted with the faded hangings and the dingy damask of the
+chairs and sofas. A mass of Cromwellian armour was huddled together in
+a corner of a long monkish gallery, with a standard, encrusted with
+dust, and a couple of old drums, one broken. From one of the windows
+they had a good view of the old walled garden, which did not
+tempt them to enter it; it was a wilderness, the walks no longer
+distinguishable from the rank vegetation of the once cultivated lawns;
+the terraces choked up with the unchecked shrubberies; and here and
+there a leaden statue, a goddess or a satyr, prostrate, and covered
+with moss and lichen.
+
+'It makes me melancholy,' said Lady Annabel; 'let us return.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'are there any ghosts in this abbey?'
+
+'You may well ask me, love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'it seems a
+spell-bound place. But, Venetia, I have often told you there are no
+such things as ghosts.'
+
+'Is it naughty to believe in ghosts, mamma, for I cannot help
+believing in them?'
+
+'When you are older, and have more knowledge, you will not believe in
+them, Venetia,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+Our friends left Cadurcis Abbey. Venetia mounted her donkey, her
+mother walked by her side; the sun was beginning to decline when they
+again reached Cherbury, and the air was brisk. Lady Annabel was glad
+to find herself by her fireside in her little terrace-room, and
+Venetia fetching her book, read to her mother until their dinner hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Two serene and innocent years had glided away at Cherbury since this
+morning ramble to Cadurcis Abbey, and Venetia had grown in loveliness,
+in goodness, and intelligence. Her lively and somewhat precocious mind
+had become greatly developed; and, though she was only nine years of
+age, it scarcely needed the affection of a mother to find in her an
+interesting and engaging companion. Although feminine education was
+little regarded in those days, that of Lady Annabel had been an
+exception to the general practice of society. She had been brought
+up with the consciousness of other objects of female attainment and
+accomplishment than embroidery, 'the complete art of making pastry,'
+and reading 'The Whole Duty of Man.' She had profited, when a child,
+by the guidance of her brother's tutor, who had bestowed no unfruitful
+pains upon no ordinary capacity. She was a good linguist, a fine
+musician, was well read in our elder poets and their Italian
+originals, was no unskilful artist, and had acquired some knowledge
+of botany when wandering, as a girl, in her native woods. Since her
+retirement to Cherbury, reading had been her chief resource. The hall
+contained a library whose shelves, indeed, were more full than choice;
+but, amid folios of theological controversy and civil law, there might
+be found the first editions of most of the celebrated writers of the
+reign of Anne, which the contemporary proprietor of Cherbury, a man of
+wit and fashion in his day, had duly collected in his yearly visits to
+the metropolis, and finally deposited in the family book-room.
+
+The education of her daughter was not only the principal duty of Lady
+Annabel, but her chief delight. To cultivate the nascent intelligence
+of a child, in those days, was not the mere piece of scientific
+mechanism that the admirable labours of so many ingenious writers have
+since permitted it comparatively to become. In those days there was no
+Mrs. Barbauld, no Madame de Genlis, no Miss Edgeworth; no 'Evenings at
+Home,' no 'Children's Friend,' no 'Parent's Assistant.' Venetia loved
+her book; indeed, she was never happier than when reading; but she
+soon recoiled from the gilt and Lilliputian volumes of the good Mr.
+Newbury, and her mind required some more substantial excitement than
+'Tom Thumb,' or even 'Goody Two-Shoes.' 'The Seven Champions' was
+a great resource and a great favourite; but it required all the
+vigilance of a mother to eradicate the false impressions which such
+studies were continually making on so tender a student; and to
+disenchant, by rational discussion, the fascinated imagination of her
+child. Lady Annabel endeavoured to find some substitute in the essays
+of Addison and Steele; but they required more knowledge of the
+every-day world for their enjoyment than an infant, bred in such
+seclusion, could at present afford; and at last Venetia lost herself
+in the wildering pages of Clelia and the Arcadia, which she pored over
+with a rapt and ecstatic spirit, that would not comprehend the warning
+scepticism of her parent. Let us picture to ourselves the high-bred
+Lady Annabel in the terrace-room of her ancient hall, working at
+her tapestry, and, seated at her feet, her little daughter Venetia,
+reading aloud the Arcadia! The peacocks have jumped up on the
+window-sill, to look at their friends, who love to feed them, and by
+their pecking have aroused the bloodhound crouching at Lady Annabel's
+feet. And Venetia looks up from her folio with a flushed and smiling
+face to catch the sympathy of her mother, who rewards her daughter's
+study with a kiss. Ah! there are no such mothers and no such daughters
+now!
+
+Thus it will be seen that the life and studies of Venetia tended
+rather dangerously, in spite of all the care of her mother, to the
+development of her imagination, in case indeed she possessed that
+terrible and fatal gift. She passed her days in unbroken solitude, or
+broken only by affections which softened her heart, and in a scene
+which itself might well promote any predisposition of the kind;
+beautiful and picturesque objects surrounded her on all sides; she
+wandered, at it were, in an enchanted wilderness, and watched the deer
+reposing under the green shadow of stately trees; the old hall
+itself was calculated to excite mysterious curiosity; one wing was
+uninhabited and shut up; each morning and evening she repaired with
+her mother and the household through long galleries to the chapel,
+where she knelt to her devotions, illumined by a window blazoned with
+the arms of that illustrious family of which she was a member, and
+of which she knew nothing. She had an indefinite and painful
+consciousness that she had been early checked in the natural inquiries
+which occur to every child; she had insensibly been trained to speak
+only of what she saw; and when she listened, at night, to the long
+ivy rustling about the windows, and the wild owls hooting about the
+mansion, with their pining, melancholy voices, she might have been
+excused for believing in those spirits, which her mother warned her to
+discredit; or she forgot these mournful impressions in dreams, caught
+from her romantic volumes, of bright knights and beautiful damsels.
+
+Only one event of importance had occurred at Cherbury during these two
+years, if indeed that be not too strong a phrase to use in reference
+to an occurrence which occasioned so slight and passing an interest.
+Lord Cadurcis had died. He had left his considerable property to his
+natural children, but the abbey had descended with the title to a very
+distant relative. The circle at Cherbury had heard, and that was all,
+that the new lord was a minor, a little boy, indeed very little older
+than Venetia herself; but this information produced no impression. The
+abbey was still deserted and desolate as ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Every Sunday afternoon, the rector of a neighbouring though still
+somewhat distant parish, of which the rich living was in the gift of
+the Herberts, came to perform divine service at Cherbury. It was a
+subject of deep regret to Lady Annabel that herself and her family
+were debarred from the advantage of more frequent and convenient
+spiritual consolation; but, at this time, the parochial discipline
+of the Church of England was not so strict as it fortunately is at
+present. Cherbury, though a vicarage, possessed neither parish church,
+nor a residence for the clergyman; nor was there indeed a village. The
+peasants on the estate, or labourers as they are now styled, a term
+whose introduction into our rural world is much to be lamented, lived
+in the respective farmhouses on the lands which they cultivated. These
+were scattered about at considerable distances, and many of their
+inmates found it more convenient to attend the church of the
+contiguous parish than to repair to the hall chapel, where the
+household and the dwellers in the few cottages scattered about the
+park and woods always assembled. The Lady Annabel, whose lot it had
+been in life to find her best consolation in religion, and who was
+influenced by not only a sincere but even a severe piety, had no other
+alternative, therefore, but engaging a chaplain; but this, after much
+consideration, she had resolved not to do. She was indeed her own
+chaplain, herself performing each day such parts of our morning and
+evening service whose celebration becomes a laic, and reading portions
+from the writings of those eminent divines who, from the Restoration
+to the conclusion of the last reign, have so eminently distinguished
+the communion of our national Church.
+
+Each Sunday, after the performance of divine service, the Rev. Dr.
+Masham dined with the family, and he was the only guest at Cherbury
+Venetia ever remembered seeing. The Doctor was a regular orthodox
+divine of the eighteenth century; with a large cauliflower wig,
+shovel-hat, and huge knee-buckles, barely covered by his top-boots;
+learned, jovial, humorous, and somewhat courtly; truly pious, but not
+enthusiastic; not forgetful of his tithes, but generous and charitable
+when they were once paid; never neglecting the sick, yet occasionally
+following a fox; a fine scholar, an active magistrate, and a good
+shot; dreading the Pope, and hating the Presbyterians.
+
+The Doctor was attached to the Herbert family not merely because they
+had given him a good living. He had a great reverence for an old
+English race, and turned up his nose at the Walpolian loanmongers.
+Lady Annabel, too, so beautiful, so dignified, so amiable, and highly
+bred, and, above all, so pious, had won his regard. He was not a
+little proud, too, that he was the only person in the county who had
+the honour of her acquaintance, and yet was disinterested enough to
+regret that he led so secluded a life, and often lamented that nothing
+would induce her to show her elegant person on a racecourse, or to
+attend an assize ball, an assembly which was then becoming much the
+fashion. The little Venetia was a charming child, and the kind-hearted
+Doctor, though a bachelor, loved children.
+
+  O! matre pulchrâ, filia pulchrior,
+
+was the Rev. Dr. Masham's apposite and favourite quotation after his
+weekly visit to Cherbury.
+
+Divine service was concluded; the Doctor had preached a capital
+sermon; for he had been one of the shining lights of his university
+until his rich but isolating preferment had apparently closed the
+great career which it was once supposed awaited him. The accustomed
+walk on the terrace was completed, and dinner was announced. This meal
+was always celebrated at Cherbury, where new fashions stole down with
+a lingering pace, in the great hall itself. An ample table was placed
+in the centre on a mat of rushes, sheltered by a large screen covered
+with huge maps of the shire and the neighbouring counties. The Lady
+Annabel and her good pastor seated themselves at each end of the
+table, while Venetia, mounted on a high chair, was waited on by
+Mistress Pauncefort, who never condescended by any chance attention to
+notice the presence of any other individual but her little charge, on
+whose chair she just leaned with an air of condescending devotion.
+The butler stood behind his lady, and two other servants watched the
+Doctor; rural bodies all, but decked on this day in gorgeous livery
+coats of blue and silver, which had been made originally for men of
+very different size and bearing. Simple as was the usual diet at
+Cherbury the cook was permitted on Sunday full play to her art, which,
+in the eighteenth century, indulged in the production of dishes more
+numerous and substantial than our refined tastes could at present
+tolerate. The Doctor appreciated a good dinner, and his countenance
+glistened with approbation as he surveyed the ample tureen of potage
+royal, with a boned duck swimming in its centre. Before him still
+scowled in death the grim countenance of a huge roast pike, flanked
+on one side by a leg of mutton _à-la-daube_, and on the other by
+the tempting delicacies of bombarded veal. To these succeeded that
+masterpiece of the culinary art, a grand battalia pie, in which the
+bodies of chickens, pigeons, and rabbits were embalmed in spices,
+cocks' combs, and savoury balls, and well bedewed with one of those
+rich sauces of claret, anchovy, and sweet herbs, in which our
+great-grandfathers delighted, and which was technically termed a Lear.
+But the grand essay of skill was the cover of this pasty, whereon the
+curious cook had contrived to represent all the once-living forms that
+were now entombed in that gorgeous sepulchre. A Florentine tourte, or
+tansy, an old English custard, a more refined blamango, and a riband
+jelly of many colours, offered a pleasant relief after these vaster
+inventions, and the repast closed with a dish of oyster loaves and a
+pompetone of larks.
+
+Notwithstanding the abstemiousness of his hostess, the Doctor was
+never deterred from doing justice to her hospitality. Few were the
+dishes that ever escaped him. The demon dyspepsia had not waved its
+fell wings over the eighteenth century, and wonderful were the feats
+then achieved by a country gentleman with the united aid of a good
+digestion and a good conscience.
+
+The servants had retired, and Dr. Masham had taken his last glass
+of port, and then he rang a bell on the table, and, I trust my fair
+readers will not be frightened from proceeding with this history, a
+servant brought him his pipe. The pipe was well stuffed, duly lighted,
+and duly puffed; and then, taking it from his mouth, the Doctor spoke.
+
+'And so, my honoured lady, you have got a neighbour at last.'
+
+'Indeed!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+But the claims of the pipe prevented the good Doctor from too quickly
+satisfying her natural curiosity. Another puff or two, and he then
+continued.
+
+'Yes,' said he, 'the old abbey has at last found a tenant.'
+
+'A tenant, Doctor?'
+
+'Ay! the best tenant in the world: its proprietor.'
+
+'You quite surprise me. When did this occur?'
+
+'They have been there these three days; I have paid them a visit. Mrs.
+Cadurcis has come to live at the abbey with the little lord.'
+
+'This is indeed news to us,' said Lady Annabel; 'and what kind of
+people are they?'
+
+'You know, my dear madam,' said the Doctor, just touching the ash of
+his pipe with his tobacco-stopper of chased silver, 'that the present
+lord is a very distant relative of the late one?'
+
+Lady Annabel bowed assent.
+
+'The late lord,' continued the Doctor, 'who was as strange and
+wrong-headed a man as ever breathed, though I trust he is in the
+kingdom of heaven for all that, left all his property to his unlawful
+children, with the exception of this estate entailed on the title, as
+all estates should be, 'Tis a fine place, but no great rental. I doubt
+whether 'tis more than a clear twelve hundred a-year.'
+
+'And Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Was an heiress,' replied the Doctor, 'and the late Mr. Cadurcis a
+spendrift. He was a bad manager, and, worse, a bad husband. Providence
+was pleased to summon him suddenly from this mortal scene, but not
+before he had dissipated the greater part of his wife's means. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, since she was a widow, has lived in strict seclusion with
+her little boy, as you may, my dear lady, with your dear little girl.
+But I am afraid,' said the Doctor, shaking his head, 'she has not
+been in the habit of dining so well as we have to-day. A very
+limited income, my dear madam; a very limited income indeed. And
+the guardians, I am told, will only allow the little lord a hundred
+a-year; but, on her own income, whatever it may be, and that addition,
+she has resolved to live at the abbey; and I believe, I believe she
+has it rent-free; but I don't know.'
+
+'Poor woman!' said Lady Annabel, and not without a sigh. 'I trust her
+child is her consolation.'
+
+Venetia had not spoken during this conversation, but she had listened
+to it very attentively. At length she said, 'Mamma, is not a widow a
+wife that has lost her husband?'
+
+'You are right, my dear,' said Lady Annabel, rather gravely.
+
+Venetia mused a moment, and then replied, 'Pray, mamma, are you a
+widow?'
+
+'My dear little girl,' said Dr. Masham, 'go and give that beautiful
+peacock a pretty piece of cake.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor rose from the table with Venetia, and took
+a turn in the park, while the Doctor's horses were getting ready.
+
+'I think, my good lady,' said the Doctor, 'it would be but an act of
+Christian charity to call upon Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'I was thinking the same,' said Lady Annabel; 'I am interested by what
+you have told me of her history and fortunes. We have some woes in
+common; I hope some joys. It seems that this case should indeed be an
+exception to my rule.'
+
+'I would not ask you to sacrifice your inclinations to the mere
+pleasures of the world,' said the Doctor: 'but duties, my dear lady,
+duties; there are such things as duties to our neighbour; and here is
+a case where, believe me, they might be fulfilled.'
+
+The Doctor's horses now appeared. Both master and groom wore their
+pistols in their holsters. The Doctor shook hands warmly with Lady
+Annabel, and patted Venetia on her head, as she ran up from a little
+distance, with an eager countenance, to receive her accustomed
+blessing. Then mounting his stout mare, he once more waived his hand
+with an air of courtliness to his hostess, and was soon out of sight.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia returned to the terrace-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+'And so I would, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, when Lady Annabel
+communicated to her faithful attendant, at night, the news of the
+arrival of the Cadurcis family at the abbey, and her intention of
+paying Mrs. Cadurcis a visit; 'and so I would, my lady,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, 'and it would be but an act of Christian charity after
+all, as the Doctor says; for although it is not for me to complain
+when my betters are satisfied, and after all I am always content, if
+your ladyship be; still there is no denying the fact, that this is
+a terrible lonesome life after all. And I cannot help thinking your
+ladyship has not been looking so well of late, and a little society
+would do your ladyship good; and Miss Venetia too, after all, she
+wants a playfellow; I am certain sure that I was as tired of playing
+at ball with her this morning as if I had never sat down in my born
+days; and I dare say the little lord will play with her all day long.'
+
+'If I thought that this visit would lead to what is understood by the
+word society, my good Pauncefort, I certainly should refrain from
+paying it,' said Lady Annabel, very quietly.
+
+'Oh! Lord, dear my lady, I was not for a moment dreaming of any such
+thing,' replied Mistress Pauncefort; 'society, I know as well as any
+one, means grand balls, Ranelagh, and the masquerades. I can't abide
+the thought of them, I do assure your ladyship; all I meant was that a
+quiet dinner now and then with a few friends, a dance perhaps in the
+evening, or a hand of whist, or a game of romps at Christmas, when the
+abbey will of course be quite full, a--'
+
+'I believe there is as little chance of the abbey being full at
+Christmas, or any other time, as there is of Cherbury.' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Mrs. Cadurcis is a widow, with a very slender fortune. Her
+son will not enjoy his estate until he is of age, and its rental is
+small. I am led to believe that they will live quite as quietly as
+ourselves; and when I spoke of Christian charity, I was thinking only
+of kindness towards them, and not of amusement for ourselves.'
+
+'Well, my lady, your la'ship knows best,' replied Mistress Pauncefort,
+evidently very disappointed; for she had indulged in momentary visions
+of noble visitors and noble valets; 'I am always content, you know,
+when your la'ship is; but, I must say, I think it is very odd for a
+lord to be so poor. I never heard of such a thing. I think they will
+turn out richer than you have an idea, my lady. Your la'ship knows
+'tis quite a saying, "As rich as a lord."'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled, but did not reply.
+
+The next morning the fawn-coloured chariot, which had rarely been used
+since Lady Annabel's arrival at Cherbury, and four black long-tailed
+coach-horses, that from absolute necessity had been degraded, in
+the interval, to the service of the cart and the plough, made their
+appearance, after much bustle and effort, before the hall-door.
+Although a morning's stroll from Cherbury through the woods, Cadurcis
+was distant nearly ten miles by the road, and that road was in great
+part impassable, save in favourable seasons. This visit, therefore,
+was an expedition; and Lady Annabel, fearing the fatigue for a child,
+determined to leave Venetia at home, from whom she had actually never
+been separated one hour in her life. Venetia could not refrain from
+shedding a tear when her mother embraced and quitted her, and begged,
+as a last favour, that she might accompany her through the park to
+the avenue lodge. So Pauncefort and herself entered the chariot, that
+rocked like a ship, in spite of all the skill of the coachman and the
+postilion.
+
+Venetia walked home with Mistress Pauncefort, but Lady Annabel's
+little daughter was not in her usual lively spirits; many a butterfly
+glanced around without attracting her pursuit, and the deer trooped
+by without eliciting a single observation. At length she said, in a
+thoughtful tone, 'Mistress Pauncefort, I should have liked to have
+gone and seen the little boy.'
+
+'You shall go and see him another day, Miss,' replied her attendant.
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'are you a widow?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort almost started; had the inquiry been made by a
+man, she would almost have supposed he was going to be very rude. She
+was indeed much surprised.
+
+'And pray, Miss Venetia, what could put it in your head to ask such an
+odd question?' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'A widow! Miss Venetia;
+I have never yet changed my name, and I shall not in a hurry, that I
+can tell you.'
+
+'Do widows change their names?' said Venetia.
+
+'All women change their names when they marry,' responded Mistress
+Pauncefort.
+
+'Is mamma married?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'La! Miss Venetia. Well, to be sure, you do ask the strangest
+questions. Married! to be sure she is married,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, exceedingly flustered.
+
+'And whom is she married to?' pursued the unwearied Venetia.
+
+'Your papa, to be sure,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing up to her
+eyes, and looking very confused; 'that is to say, Miss Venetia, you
+are never to ask questions about such subjects. Have not I often told
+you it is not pretty?'
+
+'Why is it not pretty?' said Venetia.
+
+'Because it is not proper,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'because your
+mamma does not like you to ask such questions, and she will be very
+angry with me for answering them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I tell you what, Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'I think mamma
+is a widow.'
+
+'And what then, Miss Venetia? There is no shame in that.'
+
+'Shame!' exclaimed Venetia. 'What is shame?'
+
+'Look, there is a pretty butterfly!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort.
+'Did you ever see such a pretty butterfly, Miss?'
+
+'I do not care about butterflies to-day, Mistress Pauncefort; I like
+to talk about widows.'
+
+'Was there ever such a child!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, with a
+wondering glance.
+
+'I must have had a papa,' said Venetia; 'all the ladies I read about
+had papas, and married husbands. Then whom did my mamma marry?'
+
+'Lord! Miss Venetia, you know very well your mamma always tells
+you that all those books you read are a pack of stories,' observed
+Mistress Pauncefort, with an air of triumphant art.
+
+'There never were such persons, perhaps,' said Venetia, 'but it is not
+true that there never were such things as papas and husbands, for all
+people have papas; you must have had a papa, Mistress Pauncefort?'
+
+'To be sure I had,' said Mistress Pauncefort, bridling up.
+
+'And a mamma too?' said Venetia.
+
+'As honest a woman as ever lived,' said Mistress Pauncefort.
+
+'Then if I have no papa, mamma must be a wife that has lost her
+husband, and that, mamma told me at dinner yesterday, was a widow.'
+
+'Was the like ever seen!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'And what
+then, Miss Venetia?'
+
+'It seems to me so odd that only two people should live here, and both
+be widows,' said Venetia, 'and both have a little child; the only
+difference is, that one is a little boy, and I am a little girl.'
+
+'When ladies lose their husbands, they do not like to have their names
+mentioned,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and so you must never talk of
+your papa to my lady, and that is the truth.'
+
+'I will not now,' said Venetia.
+
+When they returned home, Mistress Pauncefort brought her work, and
+seated herself on the terrace, that she might not lose sight of her
+charge. Venetia played about for some little time; she made a castle
+behind a tree, and fancied she was a knight, and then a lady, and
+conjured up an ogre in the neighbouring shrubbery; but these daydreams
+did not amuse her as much as usual. She went and fetched her book, but
+even 'The Seven Champions' could not interest her. Her eye was fixed
+upon the page, and apparently she was absorbed in her pursuit, but
+her mind wandered, and the page was never turned. She indulged in an
+unconscious reverie; her fancy was with her mother on her visit; the
+old abbey rose up before her: she painted the scene without an effort:
+the court, with the fountain; the grand room, with the tapestry
+hangings; that desolate garden, with the fallen statues; and that
+long, gloomy gallery. And in all these scenes appeared that little
+boy, who, somehow or other, seemed wonderfully blended with her
+imaginings. It was a very long day this; Venetia dined along with
+Mistress Pauncefort; the time hung very heavy; at length she fell
+asleep in Mistress Pauncefort's lap. A sound roused her: the carriage
+had returned; she ran to greet her mother, but there was no news; Mrs.
+Cadurcis had been absent; she had gone to a distant town to buy some
+furniture; and, after all, Lady Annabel had not seen the little boy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+A few days after the visit to Cadurcis, when Lady Annabel was sitting
+alone, a postchaise drove up to the hall, whence issued a short and
+stout woman with a rubicund countenance, and dressed in a style which
+remarkably blended the shabby with the tawdry. She was accompanied
+by a boy between eleven and twelve years of age, whose appearance,
+however, much contrasted with that of his mother, for he was pale and
+slender, with long curling black hair and large black eyes, which
+occasionally, by their transient flashes, agreeably relieved a face
+the general expression of which might be esteemed somewhat shy and
+sullen. The lady, of course, was Mrs. Cadurcis, who was received by
+Lady Annabel with the greatest courtesy.
+
+'A terrible journey,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, fanning herself as she
+took her seat, 'and so very hot! Plantagenet, my love, make your
+bow! Have not I always told you to make a bow when you enter a room,
+especially where there are strangers? This is Lady Annabel Herbert,
+who was so kind as to call upon us. Make your bow to Lady Annabel.'
+
+The boy gave a sort of sulky nod, but Lady Annabel received it so
+graciously and expressed herself so kindly to him that his features
+relaxed a little, though he was quite silent and sat on the edge of
+his chair, the picture of dogged indifference.
+
+'Charming country, Lady Annabel,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but worse
+roads, if possible, than we had in Northumberland, where, indeed,
+there were no roads at all. Cherbury a delightful place, very unlike
+the abbey; dreadfully lonesome I assure you I find it, Lady Annabel.
+Great change for us from a little town and all our kind neighbours.
+Very different from Morpeth; is it not, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I hate Morpeth,' said the boy.
+
+'Hate Morpeth!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'well, I am sure, that
+is very ungrateful, with so many kind friends as we always found.
+Besides, Plantagenet, have I not always told you that you are to hate
+nothing? It is very wicked. The trouble it costs me, Lady Annabel, to
+educate this dear child!' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, turning to Lady
+Annabel, and speaking in a semi-tone. 'I have done it all myself, I
+assure you; and, when he likes, he can be as good as any one. Can't
+you, Plantagenet?'
+
+Lord Cadurcis gave a grim smile; seated himself at the very back of
+the deep chair and swung his feet, which no longer reached the ground,
+to and fro.
+
+'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis always behaves well,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'There, Plantagenet,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, 'only listen to that.
+Hear what Lady Annabel Herbert says; she is sure you always behave
+well. Now mind, never give her ladyship cause to change her opinion.'
+
+Plantagenet curled his lip, and half turned his back on his
+companions.
+
+'I regretted so much that I was not at home when you did me the honour
+to call,' resumed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'but I had gone over for the day to
+Southport, buying furniture. What a business it is to buy furniture,
+Lady Annabel!' added Mrs. Cadurcis, with a piteous expression.
+
+'It is indeed very troublesome,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Ah! you have none of these cares,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, surveying
+the pretty apartment. 'What a difference between Cherbury and the
+abbey! I suppose you have never been there?'
+
+'Indeed, it is one of my favourite walks,' answered Lady Annabel;
+'and, some two years ago, I even took the liberty of walking through
+the house.'
+
+'Was there ever such a place!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'I assure you
+my poor head turns whenever I try to find my way about it. But the
+trustees offered it us, and I thought it my duty to my son to reside
+there. Besides, it was a great offer to a widow; if poor Mr. Cadurcis
+had been alive it would have been different. I hardly know what
+I shall do there, particularly in winter. My spirits are always
+dreadfully low. I only hope Plantagenet will behave well. If he goes
+into his tantarums at the abbey, and particularly in winter, I hardly
+know what will become of me!'
+
+'I am sure Lord Cadurcis will do everything to make the abbey
+comfortable to you. Besides, it is but a short walk from Cherbury, and
+you must come often and see us.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet can be good if he likes, I can assure you,
+Lady Annabel; and behaves as properly as any little boy I know.
+Plantagenet, my dear, speak. Have not I always told you, when you pay
+a visit, that you should open your mouth now and then. I don't like
+chattering children,' added Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but I like them to answer
+when they are spoken to.'
+
+'Nobody has spoken to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a sullen tone.
+
+'Plantagenet, my love!' said his mother in a solemn voice.
+
+'Well, mother, what do you want?'
+
+'Plantagenet, my love, you know you promised me to be good!'
+
+'Well! what have I done?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, interfering, 'do you like to look
+at pictures?'
+
+'Thank you,' replied the little lord, in a more courteous tone; 'I
+like to be left alone.'
+
+'Did you ever know such an odd child!' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'and yet,
+Lady Annabel, you must not judge him by what you see. I do assure you
+he can behave, when he likes, as pretty as possible.'
+
+'Pretty!' muttered the little lord between his teeth.
+
+'If you had only seen him at Morpeth sometimes at a little tea party,'
+said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'he really was quite the ornament of the company.'
+
+'No, I wasn't,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet!' said his mother again in a solemn tone, 'have I not
+always told you that you are never to contradict any one?'
+
+The little lord indulged in a suppressed growl.
+
+'There was a little play last Christmas,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis,
+'and he acted quite delightfully. Now you would not think that, from
+the way he sits upon that chair. Plantagenet, my dear, I do insist
+upon your behaving yourself. Sit like a man.'
+
+'I am not a man,' said Lord Cadurcis, very quietly; 'I wish I were.'
+
+'Plantagenet!' said the mother, 'have not I always told you that you
+are never to answer me? It is not proper for children to answer! O
+Lady Annabel, if you knew what it cost me to educate my son. He never
+does anything I wish, and it is so provoking, because I know that he
+can behave as properly as possible if he likes. He does it to provoke
+me. You know you do it to provoke me, you little brat; now, sit
+properly, sir; I do desire you to sit properly. How vexatious that you
+should call at Cherbury for the first time, and behave in this manner!
+Plantagenet, do you hear me?' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, with a face
+reddening to scarlet, and almost menacing a move from her seat.
+
+'Yes, everybody hears you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said the little lord.
+
+'Don't call me Mrs. Cadurcis,' exclaimed the mother, in a dreadful
+rage. 'That is not the way to speak to your mother; I will not be
+called Mrs. Cadurcis by you. Don't answer me, sir; I desire you not
+to answer me. I have half a mind to get up and give you a good shake,
+that I have. O Lady Annabel,' sighed Mrs. Cadurcis, while a tear
+trickled down her cheek, 'if you only knew the life I lead, and what
+trouble it costs me to educate that child!'
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis has
+no other wish but to please you. Indeed you have misunderstood him.'
+
+'Yes! she always misunderstands me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a softer
+tone, but with pouting lips and suffused eyes.
+
+'Now he is going on,' said his mother, beginning herself to cry
+dreadfully. 'He knows my weak heart; he knows nobody in the world
+loves him like his mother; and this is the way he treats me.'
+
+'My dear Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, 'pray take luncheon after
+your long drive; and Lord Cadurcis, I am sure you must be fatigued.'
+
+'Thank you, I never eat, my dear lady,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'except at
+my meals. But one glass of Mountain, if you please, I would just take
+the liberty of tasting, for the weather is so dreadfully hot, and
+Plantagenet has so aggravated me, I really do not feel myself.'
+
+Lady Annabel sounded her silver hand-bell, and the butler brought some
+cakes and the Mountain. Mrs. Cadurcis revived by virtue of her single
+glass, and the providential co-operation of a subsequent one or two.
+Even the cakes and the Mountain, however, would not tempt her son to
+open his mouth; and this, in spite of her returning composure, drove
+her to desperation. A conviction that the Mountain and the cakes were
+delicious, an amiable desire that the palate of her spoiled child
+should be gratified, some reasonable maternal anxiety that after so
+long and fatiguing a drive he in fact needed some refreshment, and
+the agonising consciousness that all her own physical pleasure at the
+moment was destroyed by the mental sufferings she endured at having
+quarrelled with her son, and that he was depriving himself of what was
+so agreeable only to pique her, quite overwhelmed the ill-regulated
+mind of this fond mother. Between each sip and each mouthful, she
+appealed to him to follow her example, now with cajolery, now with
+menace, till at length, worked up by the united stimulus of the
+Mountain and her own ungovernable rage, she dashed down the glass and
+unfinished slice of cake, and, before the astonished Lady Annabel,
+rushed forward to give him what she had long threatened, and what she
+in general ultimately had recourse to, a good shake.
+
+Her agile son, experienced in these storms, escaped in time, and
+pushed his chair before his infuriated mother; Mrs. Cadurcis, however,
+rallied, and chased him round the room; once more she flattered
+herself she had captured him, once more he evaded her; in her despair
+she took up Venetia's 'Seven Champions,' and threw the volume at his
+head; he laughed a fiendish laugh, as, ducking his head, the book flew
+on, and dashed through a pane of glass; Mrs. Cadurcis made a desperate
+charge, and her son, a little frightened at her almost maniacal
+passion, saved himself by suddenly seizing Lady Annabel's work-table,
+and whirling it before her; Mrs. Cadurcis fell over the leg of the
+table, and went into hysterics; while the bloodhound, who had long
+started from his repose, looked at his mistress for instructions, and
+in the meantime continued barking. The astonished and agitated Lady
+Annabel assisted Mrs. Cadurcis to rise, and led her to a couch. Lord
+Cadurcis, pale and dogged, stood in a corner, and after all this
+uproar there was a comparative calm, only broken by the sobs of the
+mother, each instant growing fainter and fainter.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Mistress Pauncefort ushered in the
+little Venetia. She really looked like an angel of peace sent from
+heaven on a mission of concord, with her long golden hair, her bright
+face, and smile of ineffable loveliness.
+
+'Mamma!' said Venetia, in the sweetest tone.
+
+'Hush! darling,' said Lady Annabel, 'this lady is not very well.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis opened her eyes and sighed. She beheld Venetia, and
+stared at her with a feeling of wonder. 'O Lady Annabel,' she faintly
+exclaimed, 'what must you think of me? But was there ever such an
+unfortunate mother? and I have not a thought in the world but for that
+boy. I have devoted my life to him, and never would have buried myself
+in this abbey but for his sake. And this is the way he treats me,
+and his father before him treated me even worse. Am I not the most
+unfortunate woman you ever knew?'
+
+'My dear madam,' said the kind Lady Annabel, in a soothing tone, 'you
+will be very happy yet; all will be quite right and quite happy.'
+
+'Is this angel your child?' inquired Mrs. Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'This is my little girl, Venetia. Come hither, Venetia, and speak to
+Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'How do you do, Mrs. Cadurcis?' said Venetia. 'I am so glad you have
+come to live at the abbey.'
+
+'The angel!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'The sweet seraph! Oh! why did
+not my Plantagenet speak to you, Lady Annabel, in the same tone?
+And he can, if he likes; he can, indeed. It was his silence that so
+mortified me; it was his silence that led to all. I am so proud of
+him! and then he comes here, and never speaks a word. O Plantagenet, I
+am sure you will break my heart.'
+
+Venetia went up to the little lord in the corner, and gently stroked
+his dark cheek. 'Are you the little boy?' she said.
+
+Cadurcis looked at her; at first the glance was rather fierce, but
+it instantly relaxed. 'What is your name?' he said in a low, but not
+unkind, tone.
+
+'Venetia!'
+
+'I like you, Venetia,' said the boy. 'Do you live here?'
+
+'Yes, with my mamma.'
+
+'I like your mamma, too; but not so much as you. I like your gold
+hair.'
+
+'Oh, how funny! to like my gold hair!'
+
+'If you had come in sooner,' said Cadurcis, 'we should not have had
+this row.'
+
+'What is a row, little boy?' said Venetia.
+
+'Do not call me little boy,' he said, but not in an unkind tone; 'call
+me by my name.'
+
+'What is your name?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis; but you may call me by my Christian name, because I
+like you.'
+
+'What is your Christian name?'
+
+'Plantagenet.'
+
+'Plantagenet! What a long name!' said Venetia. 'Tell me then,
+Plantagenet, what is a row?'
+
+'What often takes place between me and my mother, but which I am sorry
+now has happened here, for I like this place, and should like to come
+often. A row is a quarrel.'
+
+'A quarrel! What! do you quarrel with your mamma?'
+
+'Often.'
+
+'Why, then, you are not a good boy.'
+
+'Ah! my mamma is not like yours,' said the little lord, with a sigh.
+'It is not my fault. But now I want to make it up; how shall I do it?'
+
+'Go and give her a kiss.'
+
+'Poh! that is not the way.'
+
+'Shall I go and ask my mamma what is best to do?' said Venetia;
+and she stole away on tiptoe, and whispered to Lady Annabel that
+Plantagenet wanted her. Her mother came forward and invited Lord
+Cadurcis to walk on the terrace with her, leaving Venetia to amuse her
+other guest.
+
+Lady Annabel, though kind, was frank and firm in her unexpected
+confidential interview with her new friend. She placed before him
+clearly the enormity of his conduct, which no provocation could
+justify; it was a violation of divine law, as well as human propriety.
+She found the little lord attentive, tractable, and repentant,
+and, what might not have been expected, exceedingly ingenious
+and intelligent. His observations, indeed, were distinguished by
+remarkable acuteness; and though he could not, and indeed did not even
+attempt to vindicate his conduct, he incidentally introduced much
+that might be urged in its extenuation. There was indeed in this,
+his milder moment, something very winning in his demeanour, and Lady
+Annabel deeply regretted that a nature of so much promise and capacity
+should, by the injudicious treatment of a parent, at once fond and
+violent, afford such slight hopes of future happiness. It was arranged
+between Lord Cadurcis and Lady Annabel that she should lead him to his
+mother, and that he should lament the past, and ask her forgiveness;
+so they re-entered the room. Venetia was listening to a long story
+from Mrs. Cadurcis, who appeared to have entirely recovered herself;
+but her countenance assumed a befitting expression of grief and
+gravity when she observed her son.
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'your son is unhappy that he
+should have offended you, and he has asked my kind offices to effect a
+perfect reconciliation between a child who wishes to be dutiful to a
+parent who, he feels, has always been so affectionate.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis began crying.
+
+'Mother,' said her son, 'I am sorry for what has occurred; mine was
+the fault. I shall not be happy till you pardon me.'
+
+'No, yours was not the fault,' said poor Mrs. Cadurcis, crying
+bitterly. 'Oh! no, it was not! I was in fault, only I. There, Lady
+Annabel, did I not tell you he was the sweetest, dearest, most
+generous-hearted creature that ever lived? Oh! if he would only always
+speak so, I am sure I should be the happiest woman that ever breathed!
+He puts me in mind quite of his poor dear father, who was an
+angel upon earth; he was indeed, when he was not vexed. O my
+dear Plantagenet! my only hope and joy! you are the treasure and
+consolation of my life, and always will be. God bless you, my darling
+child! You shall have that pony you wanted; I am sure I can manage it:
+I did not think I could.'
+
+As Lady Annabel thought it was as well that the mother and the son
+should not be immediately thrown together after this storm, she kindly
+proposed that they should remain, and pass the day at Cherbury; and,
+as Plantagenet's eyes brightened at the proposal, it did not require
+much trouble to persuade his mother to accede to it. The day, that had
+commenced so inauspiciously, turned out one of the most agreeable,
+both to Mrs. Cadurcis and her child. The two mothers conversed
+together, and, as Mrs. Cadurcis was a great workwoman, there was
+at least one bond of sympathy between her and the tapestry of her
+hostess. Then they all took a stroll in the park; and as Mrs. Cadurcis
+was not able to walk for any length of time, the children were
+permitted to stroll about together, attended by Mistress Pauncefort,
+while Mrs. Cadurcis, chatting without ceasing, detailed to Lady
+Annabel all the history of her life, all the details of her various
+complaints and her economical arrangements, and all the secrets of her
+husband's treatment of her, that favourite subject on which she ever
+waxed most eloquent. Plantagenet, equally indulging in confidence,
+which with him, however, was unusual, poured all his soul into the
+charmed ear of Venetia. He told her how he and his mother had lived at
+Morpeth, and how he hated it; how poor they had been, and how rich he
+should be; how he loved the abbey, and especially the old gallery, and
+the drums and armour; how he had been a day-scholar at a little school
+which he abhorred, and how he was to go some day to Eton, of which he
+was very proud.
+
+At length they were obliged to return, and when dinner was over the
+postchaise was announced. Mrs. Cadurcis parted from Lady Annabel with
+all the warm expressions of a heart naturally kind and generous; and
+Plantagenet embraced Venetia, and promised that the next day he would
+find his way alone from Cadurcis, through the wood, and come and take
+another walk with her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+This settlement of Mrs. Cadurcis and her son in the neighbourhood
+was an event of no slight importance in the life of the family at
+Cherbury. Venetia at length found a companion of her own age, itself
+an incident which, in its influence upon her character and pursuits,
+was not to be disregarded. There grew up between the little lord and
+the daughter of Lady Annabel that fond intimacy which not rarely
+occurs in childhood. Plantagenet and Venetia quickly imbibed for each
+other a singular affection, not displeasing to Lady Annabel, who
+observed, without dissatisfaction, the increased happiness of her
+child, and encouraged by her kindness the frequent visits of the boy,
+who soon learnt the shortest road from the abbey, and almost daily
+scaled the hill, and traced his way through the woods to the hall.
+There was much, indeed, in the character and the situation of Lord
+Cadurcis which interested Lady Annabel Herbert. His mild, engaging,
+and affectionate manners, when he was removed from the injudicious
+influence of his mother, won upon her feelings; she felt for this
+lone child, whom nature had gifted with so soft a heart and with a
+thoughtful mind whose outbreaks not unfrequently attracted her notice;
+with none to guide him, and with only one heart to look up to for
+fondness; and that, too, one that had already contrived to forfeit the
+respect even of so young a child.
+
+Yet Lady Annabel was too sensible of the paramount claims of a
+mother; herself, indeed, too jealous of any encroachment on the full
+privileges of maternal love, to sanction in the slightest degree, by
+her behaviour, any neglect of Mrs. Cadurcis by her son. For his sake,
+therefore, she courted the society of her new neighbour; and although
+Mrs. Cadurcis offered little to engage Lady Annabel's attention as
+a companion, though she was violent in her temper, far from well
+informed, and, from the society in which, in spite of her original
+good birth, her later years had passed, very far from being
+refined, she was not without her good qualities. She was generous,
+kind-hearted, and grateful; not insensible of her own deficiencies,
+and respectable from her misfortunes. Lady Annabel was one of those
+who always judged individuals rather by their good qualities than
+their bad. With the exception of her violent temper, which, under the
+control of Lady Annabel's presence, and by the aid of all that kind
+person's skilful management, Mrs. Cadurcis generally contrived to
+bridle, her principal faults were those of manner, which, from the
+force of habit, every day became less painful. Mrs. Cadurcis, who,
+indeed, was only a child of a larger growth, became scarcely less
+attached to the Herbert family than her son; she felt that her life,
+under their influence, was happier and serener than of yore; that
+there were less domestic broils than in old days; that her son was
+more dutiful; and, as she could not help suspecting, though she found
+it difficult to analyse the cause, herself more amiable. The truth
+was, Lady Annabel always treated Mrs. Cadurcis with studied respect;
+and the children, and especially Venetia, followed her example.
+Mrs. Cadurcis' self-complacency was not only less shocked, but more
+gratified, than before; and this was the secret of her happiness. For
+no one was more mortified by her rages, when they were past, than Mrs.
+Cadurcis herself; she felt they compromised her dignity, and had lost
+her all moral command over a child whom she loved at the bottom of her
+heart with a kind of wild passion, though she would menace and strike
+him, and who often precipitated these paroxysms by denying his mother
+that duty and affection which were, after all, the great charm and
+pride of her existence.
+
+As Mrs. Cadurcis was unable to walk to Cherbury, and as Plantagenet
+soon fell into the habit of passing every morning at the hall, Lady
+Annabel was frequent in her visits to the mother, and soon she
+persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to order the old postchaise regularly on
+Saturday, and remain at Cherbury until the following Monday; by these
+means both families united together in the chapel at divine service,
+while the presence of Dr. Masham, at their now increased Sunday
+dinner, was an incident in the monotonous life of Mrs. Cadurcis far
+from displeasing to her. The Doctor gave her a little news of the
+neighbourhood, and of the country in general; amused her with an
+occasional anecdote of the Queen and the young Princesses, and always
+lent her the last number of 'Sylvanus Urban.'
+
+This weekly visit to Cherbury, the great personal attention which she
+always received there, and the frequent morning walks of Lady Annabel
+to the abbey, effectually repressed on the whole the jealousy which
+was a characteristic of Mrs. Cadurcis' nature, and which the constant
+absence of her son from her in the mornings might otherwise have
+fatally developed. But Mrs. Cadurcis could not resist the conviction
+that the Herberts were as much her friends as her child's; her
+jealousy was balanced by her gratitude; she was daily, almost hourly,
+sensible of some kindness of Lady Annabel, for there were a thousand
+services in the power of the opulent and ample establishment of
+Cherbury to afford the limited and desolate household at the abbey.
+Living in seclusion, it is difficult to refrain from imbibing even a
+strong regard for our almost solitary companion, however incompatible
+may be our pursuits, and however our tastes may vary, especially when
+that companion is grateful, and duly sensible of the condescension of
+our intimacy. And so it happened that, before a year had elapsed, that
+very Mrs. Cadurcis, whose first introduction at Cherbury had been so
+unfavourable to her, and from whose temper and manners the elegant
+demeanour and the disciplined mind of Lady Annabel Herbert might have
+been excused for a moment recoiling, had succeeded in establishing a
+strong hold upon the affections of her refined neighbour, who sought,
+on every occasion, her society, and omitted few opportunities of
+contributing to her comfort and welfare.
+
+In the meantime her son was the companion of Venetia, both in her
+pastimes and studies. The education of Lord Cadurcis had received no
+further assistance than was afforded by the little grammar-school at
+Morpeth, where he had passed three or four years as a day-scholar, and
+where his mother had invariably taken his part on every occasion that
+he had incurred the displeasure of his master. There he had obtained
+some imperfect knowledge of Latin; yet the boy was fond of reading,
+and had picked up, in an odd way, more knowledge than might have been
+supposed. He had read 'Baker's Chronicle,' and 'The Old Universal
+History,' and 'Plutarch;' and had turned over, in the book room of an
+old gentleman at Morpeth, who had been attracted by his intelligence,
+not a few curious old folios, from which he had gleaned no
+contemptible store of curious instances of human nature. His guardian,
+whom he had never seen, and who was a great nobleman and lived in
+London, had signified to Mrs. Cadurcis his intention of sending his
+ward to Eton; but that time had not yet arrived, and Mrs. Cadurcis,
+who dreaded parting with her son, determined to postpone it by every
+maternal artifice in her power. At present it would have seemed that
+her son's intellect was to be left utterly uncultivated, for there
+was no school in the neighbourhood which he could attend, and no
+occasional assistance which could be obtained; and to the constant
+presence of a tutor in the house Mrs. Cadurcis was not less opposed
+than his lordship could have been himself.
+
+It was by degrees that Lord Cadurcis became the partner of Venetia
+in her studies. Lady Annabel had consulted Dr. Masham about the poor
+little boy, whose neglected state she deplored; and the good Doctor
+had offered to ride over to Cherbury at least once a week, besides
+Sunday, provided Lady Annabel would undertake that his directions,
+in his absence, should be attended to. This her ladyship promised
+cheerfully; nor had she any difficulty in persuading Cadurcis to
+consent to the arrangement. He listened with docility and patience to
+her representation of the fatal effects, in his after-life, of his
+neglected education; of the generous and advantageous offer of Dr.
+Masham; and how cheerfully she would exert herself to assist his
+endeavours, if Plantagenet would willingly submit to her supervision.
+The little lord expressed to her his determination to do all that she
+desired, and voluntarily promised her that she should never repent
+her goodness. And he kept his word. So every morning, with the full
+concurrence of Mrs. Cadurcis, whose advice and opinion on the affair
+were most formally solicited by Lady Annabel, Plantagenet arrived
+early at the hall, and took his writing and French lessons with
+Venetia, and then they alternately read aloud to Lady Annabel from the
+histories of Hooke and Echard. When Venetia repaired to her drawing,
+Cadurcis sat down to his Latin exercise, and, in encouraging and
+assisting him, Lady Annabel, a proficient in Italian, began herself
+to learn the ancient language of the Romans. With such a charming
+mistress even these Latin exercises were achieved. In vain Cadurcis,
+after turning leaf over leaf, would look round with a piteous air to
+his fair assistant, 'O Lady Annabel, I am sure the word is not in the
+dictionary;' Lady Annabel was in a moment at his side, and, by some
+magic of her fair fingers, the word would somehow or other make its
+appearance. After a little exposure of this kind, Plantagenet would
+labour with double energy, until, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion
+and vexation, he would burst forth, 'O Lady Annabel, indeed there is
+not a nominative case in this sentence.' And then Lady Annabel
+would quit her easel, with her pencil in her hand, and give all her
+intellect to the puzzling construction; at length, she would say,
+'I think, Plantagenet, this must be our nominative case;' and so it
+always was.
+
+Thus, when Wednesday came, the longest and most laborious morning of
+all Lord Cadurcis' studies, and when he neither wrote, nor read, nor
+learnt French with Venetia, but gave up all his soul to Dr. Masham, he
+usually acquitted himself to that good person's satisfaction, who left
+him, in general, with commendations that were not lost on the pupil,
+and plenty of fresh exercises to occupy him and Lady Annabel until the
+next week. When a year had thus passed away, the happiest year yet
+in Lord Cadurcis' life, in spite of all his disadvantages, he had
+contrived to make no inconsiderable progress. Almost deprived of a
+tutor, he had advanced in classical acquirement more than during the
+whole of his preceding years of scholarship, while his handwriting
+began to become intelligible, he could read French with comparative
+facility, and had turned over many a volume in the well-stored library
+at Cherbury.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When the hours of study were past, the children, with that zest for
+play which occupation can alone secure, would go forth together, and
+wander in the park. Here they had made a little world for themselves,
+of which no one dreamed; for Venetia had poured forth all her Arcadian
+lore into the ear of Plantagenet; and they acted together many of
+the adventures of the romance, under the fond names of Musidorus and
+Philoclea. Cherbury was Arcadia, and Cadurcis Macedon; while the
+intervening woods figured as the forests of Thessaly, and the breezy
+downs were the heights of Pindus. Unwearied was the innocent sport
+of their virgin imaginations; and it was a great treat if Venetia,
+attended by Mistress Pauncefort, were permitted to accompany
+Plantagenet some way on his return. Then they parted with an embrace
+in the woods of Thessaly, and Musidorus strolled home with a heavy
+heart to his Macedonian realm.
+
+Parted from Venetia, the magic suddenly seemed to cease, and Musidorus
+was instantly transformed into the little Lord Cadurcis, exhausted by
+the unconscious efforts of his fancy, depressed by the separation from
+his sweet companion, and shrinking from the unpoetical reception which
+at the best awaited him in his ungenial home. Often, when thus alone,
+would he loiter on his way and seat himself on the ridge, and watch
+the setting sun, as its dying glory illumined the turrets of his
+ancient house, and burnished the waters of the lake, until the tears
+stole down his cheek; and yet he knew not why. No thoughts of sorrow
+had flitted through his mind, nor indeed had ideas of any description
+occurred to him. It was a trance of unmeaning abstraction; all that he
+felt was a mystical pleasure in watching the sunset, and a conviction
+that, if he were not with Venetia, that which he loved next best, was
+to be alone.
+
+The little Cadurcis in general returned home moody and silent, and
+his mother too often, irritated by his demeanour, indulged in all the
+expressions of a quick and offended temper; but since his intimacy
+with the Herberts, Plantagenet had learnt to control his emotions,
+and often successfully laboured to prevent those scenes of domestic
+recrimination once so painfully frequent. There often, too, was a note
+from Lady Annabel to Mrs. Cadurcis, or some other slight memorial,
+borne by her son, which enlisted all the kind feelings of that lady in
+favour of her Cherbury friends, and then the evening was sure to pass
+over in peace; and, when Plantagenet was not thus armed, he exerted
+himself to be cordial; and so, on the whole, with some skill in
+management, and some trials of temper, the mother and child contrived
+to live together with far greater comfort than they had of old.
+
+Bedtime was always a great relief to Plantagenet, for it secured
+him solitude. He would lie awake for hours, indulging in sweet and
+unconscious reveries, and brooding over the future morn, that always
+brought happiness. All that he used to sigh for, was to be Lady
+Annabel's son; were he Venetia's brother, then he was sure he never
+should be for a moment unhappy; that parting from Cherbury, and the
+gloomy evenings at Cadurcis, would then be avoided. In such a mood,
+and lying awake upon his pillow, he sought refuge from the painful
+reality that surrounded him in the creative solace of his imagination.
+Alone, in his little bed, Cadurcis was Venetia's brother, and he
+conjured up a thousand scenes in which they were never separated, and
+wherein he always played an amiable and graceful part. Yet he loved
+the abbey; his painful infancy was not associated with that scene; it
+was not connected with any of those grovelling common-places of his
+life, from which he had shrunk back with instinctive disgust, even
+at a very tender age. Cadurcis was the spot to which, in his most
+miserable moments at Morpeth, he had always looked forward, as the
+only chance of emancipation from the distressing scene that surrounded
+him. He had been brought up with a due sense of his future position,
+and although he had ever affected a haughty indifference on the
+subject, from his disrelish for the coarse acquaintances who were
+perpetually reminding him, with chuckling self-complacency, of his
+future greatness, in secret he had ever brooded over his destiny as
+his only consolation. He had imbibed from his own reflections, at a
+very early period of life, a due sense of the importance of his lot;
+he was proud of his hereditary honours, blended, as they were, with
+some glorious passages in the history of his country, and prouder of
+his still more ancient line. The eccentric exploits and the violent
+passions, by which his race had been ever characterised, were to him a
+source of secret exultation. Even the late lord, who certainly had
+no claims to his gratitude, for he had robbed the inheritance to the
+utmost of his power, commanded, from the wild decision of his life,
+the savage respect of his successor. In vain Mrs. Cadurcis would
+pour forth upon this, the favourite theme for her wrath and her
+lamentations, all the bitter expressions of her rage and woe.
+Plantagenet had never imbibed her prejudices against the departed, and
+had often irritated his mother by maintaining that the late lord was
+perfectly justified in his conduct.
+
+But in these almost daily separations between Plantagenet and Venetia,
+how different was her lot to that of her companion! She was the
+confidante of all his domestic sorrows, and often he had requested
+her to exert her influence to obtain some pacifying missive from Lady
+Annabel, which might secure him a quiet evening at Cadurcis; and
+whenever this had not been obtained, the last words of Venetia were
+ever not to loiter, and to remember to speak to his mother as much as
+he possibly could. Venetia returned to a happy home, welcomed by the
+smile of a soft and beautiful parent, and with words of affection
+sweeter than music. She found an engaging companion, who had no
+thought but for her welfare, her amusement, and her instruction: and
+often, when the curtains were drawn, the candles lit, and Venetia,
+holding her mother's hand, opened her book, she thought of poor
+Plantagenet, so differently situated, with no one to be kind to him,
+with no one to sympathise with his thoughts, and perhaps at the very
+moment goaded into some unhappy quarrel with his mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The appearance of the Cadurcis family on the limited stage of her
+life, and the engrossing society of her companion, had entirely
+distracted the thoughts of Venetia from a subject to which in old days
+they were constantly recurring, and that was her father. By a process
+which had often perplexed her, and which she could never succeed in
+analysing, there had arisen in her mind, without any ostensible
+agency on the part of her mother which she could distinctly recall, a
+conviction that this was a topic on which she was never to speak. This
+idea had once haunted her, and she had seldom found herself alone
+without almost unconsciously musing over it. Notwithstanding the
+unvarying kindness of Lady Annabel, she exercised over her child
+a complete and unquestioned control. Venetia was brought up with
+strictness, which was only not felt to be severe, because the system
+was founded on the most entire affection, but, fervent as her love was
+for her mother, it was equalled by her profound respect, which every
+word and action of Lady Annabel tended to maintain.
+
+In all the confidential effusions with Plantagenet, Venetia had never
+dwelt upon this mysterious subject; indeed, in these conversations,
+when they treated of their real and not ideal life, Venetia was a mere
+recipient: all that she could communicate, Plantagenet could observe;
+he it was who avenged himself at these moments for his habitual
+silence before third persons; it was to Venetia that he poured forth
+all his soul, and she was never weary of hearing his stories about
+Morpeth, and all his sorrows, disgusts, and afflictions. There was
+scarcely an individual in that little town with whom, from his lively
+narratives, she was not familiar; and it was to her sympathising heart
+that he confided all his future hopes and prospects, and confessed the
+strong pride he experienced in being a Cadurcis, which from all others
+was studiously concealed.
+
+It had happened that the first Christmas Day after the settlement of
+the Cadurcis family at the abbey occurred in the middle of the week;
+and as the weather was severe, in order to prevent two journeys at
+such an inclement season, Lady Annabel persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to pass
+the whole week at the hall. This arrangement gave such pleasure to
+Plantagenet that the walls of the abbey, as the old postchaise was
+preparing for their journey, quite resounded with his merriment. In
+vain his mother, harassed with all the mysteries of packing, indulged
+in a thousand irritable expressions, which at any other time might
+have produced a broil or even a fray; Cadurcis did nothing but laugh.
+There was at the bottom of this boy's heart, with all his habitual
+gravity and reserve, a fund of humour which would occasionally break
+out, and which nothing could withstand. When he was alone with
+Venetia, he would imitate the old maids of Morpeth, and all the
+ceremonies of a provincial tea party, with so much life and genuine
+fun, that Venetia was often obliged to stop in their rambles to
+indulge her overwhelming mirth. When they were alone, and he was
+gloomy, she was often accustomed to say, 'Now, dear Plantagenet, tell
+me how the old ladies at Morpeth drink tea.'
+
+This morning at the abbey, Cadurcis was irresistible, and the more
+excited his mother became with the difficulties which beset her, the
+more gay and fluent were his quips and cranks. Puffing, panting,
+and perspiring, now directing her waiting-woman, now scolding her
+man-servant, and now ineffectually attempting to box her son's ears,
+Mrs. Cadurcis indeed offered a most ridiculous spectacle.
+
+'John!' screamed Mrs. Cadurcis, in a voice of bewildered passion, and
+stamping with rage, 'is that the place for my cap-box? You do it on
+purpose, that you do!'
+
+'John,' mimicked Lord Cadurcis, 'how dare you do it on purpose?'
+
+'Take that, you brat,' shrieked the mother, and she struck her own
+hand against the doorway. 'Oh! I'll give it you, I'll give it you,'
+she bellowed under the united influence of rage and pain, and she
+pursued her agile child, who dodged her on the other side of the
+postchaise, which he persisted in calling the family carriage.
+
+'Oh! ma'am, my lady,' exclaimed the waiting-woman, sallying forth from
+the abbey, 'what is to be done with the parrot when we are away? Mrs.
+Brown says she won't see to it, that she won't; 'taynt her place.'
+
+This rebellion of Mrs. Brown was a diversion in favour of Plantagenet.
+Mrs. Cadurcis waddled down the cloisters with precipitation, rushed
+into the kitchen, seized the surprised Mrs. Brown by the shoulder, and
+gave her a good shake; and darting at the cage, which held the parrot,
+she bore it in triumph to the carriage. 'I will take the bird with
+me,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'We cannot take the bird inside, madam,' said Plantagenet, 'for it
+will overhear all our conversation, and repeat it. We shall not be
+able to abuse our friends.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis threw the cage at her son's head, who, for the sake of
+the bird, dexterously caught it, but declared at the same time he
+would immediately throw it into the lake. Then Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+cry with rage, and, seating herself on the open steps of the chaise,
+sobbed hysterically. Plantagenet stole round on tip-toe, and peeped
+in her face: 'A merry Christmas and a happy new year, Mrs. Cadurcis,'
+said her son.
+
+'How can I be merry and happy, treated as I am?' sobbed the mother.
+'You do not treat Lady Annabel so. Oh! no; it is only your mother whom
+you use in this manner! Go to Cherbury. Go by all means, but go by
+yourself; I shall not go: go to your friends, Lord Cadurcis; they are
+your friends, not mine, and I hope they are satisfied, now that they
+have robbed me of the affections of my child. I have seen what they
+have been after all this time. I am not so blind as some people think.
+No! I see how it is. I am nobody. Your poor mother, who brought you
+up, and educated you, is nobody. This is the end of all your Latin and
+French, and your fine lessons. Honour your father and your mother,
+Lord Cadurcis; that's a finer lesson than all. Oh! oh! oh!'
+
+This allusion to the Herberts suddenly calmed Plantagenet. He felt in
+an instant the injudiciousness of fostering by his conduct the latent
+jealousy which always lurked at the bottom of his mother's heart, and
+which nothing but the united talent and goodness of Lady Annabel could
+have hitherto baffled. So he rejoined in a kind yet playful tone, 'If
+you will be good, I will give you a kiss for a Christmas-box, mother;
+and the parrot shall go inside if you like.'
+
+'The parrot may stay at home, I do not care about it: but I cannot
+bear quarrelling; it is not my temper, you naughty, very naughty boy.'
+
+'My dear mother,' continued his lordship, in a soothing tone, 'these
+scenes always happen when people are going to travel. I assure you it
+is quite a part of packing up.'
+
+'You will be the death of me, that you will,' said the mother, 'with
+all your violence. You are worse than your father, that you are.'
+
+'Come, mother,' said her son, drawing nearer, and just touching her
+shoulder with his hand, 'will you not have my Christmas-box?'
+
+The mother extended her cheek, which the son slightly touched with his
+lip, and then Mrs. Cadurcis jumped up as lively as ever, called for a
+glass of Mountain, and began rating the footboy.
+
+At length the postchaise was packed; they had a long journey before
+them, because Cadurcis would go round by Southport, to call upon a
+tradesman whom a month before he had commissioned to get a trinket
+made for him in London, according to the newest fashion, as a present
+for Venetia. The commission was executed; Mrs. Cadurcis, who had been
+consulted in confidence by her son on the subject, was charmed with
+the result of their united taste. She had good-naturedly contributed
+one of her own few, but fine, emeralds to the gift; upon the back of
+the brooch was engraved:--
+
+    TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.
+
+'I hope she will be a sister, and more than a sister, to you,' said
+Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'Why?' inquired her son, rather confused.
+
+'You may look farther, and fare worse,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+Plantagenet blushed; and yet he wondered why he blushed: he understood
+his mother, but he could not pursue the conversation; his heart
+fluttered.
+
+A most cordial greeting awaited them at Cherbury; Dr. Masham was
+there, and was to remain until Monday. Mrs. Cadurcis would have opened
+about the present immediately, but her son warned her on the threshold
+that if she said a word about it, or seemed to be aware of its
+previous existence, even when it was shown, he would fling it
+instantly away into the snow; and her horror of this catastrophe
+bridled her tongue. Mrs. Cadurcis, however, was happy, and Lady
+Annabel was glad to see her so; the Doctor, too, paid her some
+charming compliments; the good lady was in the highest spirits, for
+she was always in extremes, and at this moment she would willingly
+have laid down her life if she had thought the sacrifice could have
+contributed to the welfare of the Herberts.
+
+Cadurcis himself drew Venetia aside, and then, holding the brooch
+reversed, he said, with rather a confused air, 'Read that, Venetia.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet!' she said, very much astonished.
+
+'You see, Venetia,' he added, leaving it in her hand, 'it is yours.'
+
+Venetia turned the jewel; her eye was dazzled with its brilliancy.
+
+'It is too grand for a little girl, Plantagenet,' she exclaimed, a
+little pale.
+
+'No, it is not,' said Plantagenet, firmly; 'besides, you will not
+always be a little girl; and then, if ever we do not live together as
+we do now, you will always remember you have a brother.'
+
+'I must show it mamma; I must ask her permission to take it,
+Plantagenet.'
+
+Venetia went up to her mother, who was talking to Mrs. Cadurcis. She
+had not courage to speak before that lady and Dr. Masham, so she
+called her mother aside.
+
+'Mamma,' she said, 'something has happened.'
+
+'What, my dear?' said Lady Annabel, somewhat surprised at the
+seriousness of her tone.
+
+'Look at this, mamma!' said Venetia, giving her the brooch.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at the jewel, and read the inscription. It was
+a more precious offering than the mother would willingly have
+sanctioned, but she was too highly bred, and too thoughtful of the
+feelings of others, to hesitate for a moment to admire it herself, and
+authorise its acceptance by her daughter. So she walked up to Cadurcis
+and gave him a mother's embrace for his magnificent present to his
+sister, placed the brooch itself near Venetia's heart, and then led
+her daughter to Mrs. Cadurcis, that the gratified mother might
+admire the testimony of her son's taste and affection. It was a most
+successful present, and Cadurcis felt grateful to his mother for her
+share in its production, and the very proper manner in which she
+received the announcement of its offering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+This was Christmas Eve; the snow was falling briskly. After dinner
+they were glad to cluster round the large fire in the green
+drawing-room. Dr. Masham had promised to read the evening service in
+the chapel, which was now lit up, and the bell was sounding, that the
+cottagers might have the opportunity of attending.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia followed the elders to the chapel; they walked
+hand-in-hand down the long galleries.
+
+'I should like to go all over this house,' said Plantagenet to his
+companion. 'Have you ever been?'
+
+'Never,' said Venetia; 'half of it is shut up. Nobody ever goes into
+it, except mamma.'
+
+In the night there was a violent snowstorm; not only was the fall
+extremely heavy, but the wind was so high, that it carried the snow
+off the hills, and all the roads were blocked up, in many places
+ten or twelve feet deep. All communication was stopped. This was an
+adventure that amused the children, though the rest looked rather
+grave. Plantagenet expressed to Venetia his wish that the snow would
+never melt, and that they might remain at Cherbury for ever.
+
+The children were to have a holiday this week, and they had planned
+some excursions in the park and neighbourhood, but now they were all
+prisoners to the house. They wandered about, turning the staircase
+into mountains, the great hall into an ocean, and the different rooms
+into so many various regions. They amused themselves with their
+adventures, and went on endless voyages of discovery. Every moment
+Plantagenet longed still more for the opportunity of exploring the
+uninhabited chambers; but Venetia shook her head, because she was sure
+Lady Annabel would not grant them permission.
+
+'Did you ever live at any place before you came to Cherbury?' inquired
+Lord Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I know I was not born here,' said Venetia; 'but I was so young that I
+have no recollection of any other place.'
+
+'And did any one live here before you came?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'I do not know,' said Venetia; 'I never heard if anybody did. I, I,'
+she continued, a little constrained, 'I know nothing.'
+
+'Do you remember your papa?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'No,' said Venetia.
+
+'Then he must have died almost as soon as you were born, said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose he must,' said Venetia, and her heart trembled.
+
+'I wonder if he ever lived here!' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Mamma does not like me to ask questions about my papa,' said Venetia,
+'and I cannot tell you anything.'
+
+'Ah! your papa was different from mine, Venetia,' said Cadurcis; 'my
+mother talks of him often enough. They did not agree very well; and,
+when we quarrel, she always says I remind her of him. I dare say Lady
+Annabel loved your papa very much.'
+
+'I am sure mamma did,' replied Venetia.
+
+The children returned to the drawing-room, and joined their friends:
+Mrs. Cadurcis was sitting on the sofa, occasionally dozing over a
+sermon; Dr. Masham was standing with Lady Annabel in the recess of
+a distant window. Her ladyship's countenance was averted; she was
+reading a newspaper, which the Doctor had given her. As the door
+opened, Lady Annabel glanced round; her countenance was agitated; she
+folded up the newspaper rather hastily, and gave it to the Doctor.
+
+'And what have you been doing, little folks?' inquired the Doctor of
+the new comers.
+
+'We have been playing at the history of Rome,' said Venetia, 'and now
+that we have conquered every place, we do not know what to do.'
+
+'The usual result of conquest,' said the Doctor, smiling.
+
+'This snowstorm is a great trial for you; I begin to believe that,
+after all, you would be more pleased to take your holidays at another
+opportunity.'
+
+'We could amuse ourselves very well,' said Plantagenet, 'if Lady
+Annabel would be so kind as to permit us to explore the part of the
+house that is shut up.'
+
+'That would be a strange mode of diversion,' said Lady Annabel,
+quietly, 'and I do not think by any means a suitable one. There cannot
+be much amusement in roaming over a number of dusty unfurnished
+rooms.'
+
+'And so nicely dressed as you are too!' said Mrs. Cadurcis, rousing
+herself: 'I wonder how such an idea could enter your head!'
+
+'It snows harder than ever,' said Venetia; 'I think, after all, I
+shall learn my French vocabulary.'
+
+'If it snows to-morrow,' said Plantagenet, 'we will do our lessons as
+usual. Holidays, I find, are not so amusing as I supposed.'
+
+The snow did continue, and the next day the children voluntarily
+suggested that they should resume their usual course of life. With
+their mornings occupied, they found their sources of relaxation ample;
+and in the evening they acted plays, and Lady Annabel dressed them up
+in her shawls, and Dr. Masham read Shakspeare to them.
+
+It was about the fourth day of the visit that Plantagenet, loitering
+in the hall with Venetia, said to her, 'I saw your mamma go into the
+locked-up rooms last night. I do so wish that she would let us go
+there.'
+
+'Last night!' said Venetia; 'when could you have seen her last night?'
+
+'Very late: the fact is, I could not sleep, and I took it into my head
+to walk up and down the gallery. I often do so at the abbey. I like to
+walk up and down an old gallery alone at night. I do not know why; but
+I like it very much. Everything is so still, and then you hear the
+owls. I cannot make out why it is; but nothing gives me more pleasure
+than to get up when everybody is asleep. It seems as if one were the
+only living person in the world. I sometimes think, when I am a man, I
+will always get up in the night, and go to bed in the daytime. Is not
+that odd?'
+
+'But mamma!' said Venetia, 'how came you to see mamma?'
+
+'Oh! I am certain of it,' said the boy; 'for, to tell you the truth, I
+was rather frightened at first; only I thought it would not do for a
+Cadurcis to be afraid, so I stood against the wall, in the shade, and
+I was determined, whatever happened, not to cry out.'
+
+'Oh! you frighten me so, Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! you might well have been frightened if you had been there; past
+midnight, a tall white figure, and a light! However, there is nothing
+to be alarmed about; it was Lady Annabel, nobody else. I saw her as
+clearly as I see you now. She walked along the gallery, and went to
+the very door you showed me the other morning. I marked the door; I
+could not mistake it. She unlocked it, and she went in.'
+
+'And then?' inquired Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'Why, then, like a fool, I went back to bed,' said Plantagenet. 'I
+thought it would seem so silly if I were caught, and I might not have
+had the good fortune to escape twice. I know no more.'
+
+Venetia could not reply. She heard a laugh, and then her mother's
+voice. They were called with a gay summons to see a colossal
+snow-ball, that some of the younger servants had made and rolled to
+the window of the terrace-room. It was ornamented with a crown of
+holly and mistletoe, and the parti-coloured berries looked bright in a
+straggling sunbeam which had fought its way through the still-loaded
+sky, and fell upon the terrace.
+
+In the evening, as they sat round the fire, Mrs. Cadurcis began
+telling Venetia a long rambling ghost story, which she declared was
+a real ghost story, and had happened in her own family. Such
+communications were not very pleasing to Lady Annabel, but she was too
+well bred to interrupt her guest. When, however, the narrative was
+finished, and Venetia, by her observations, evidently indicated
+the effect that it had produced upon her mind, her mother took the
+occasion of impressing upon her the little credibility which should
+be attached to such legends, and the rational process by which many
+unquestionable apparitions might be accounted for. Dr. Masham,
+following this train, recounted a story of a ghost which had been
+generally received in a neighbouring village for a considerable
+period, and attested by the most veracious witnesses, but which was
+explained afterwards by turning out to be an instance of somnambulism.
+Venetia appeared to be extremely interested in the subject; she
+inquired much about sleep-walkers and sleepwalking; and a great many
+examples of the habit were cited. At length she said, 'Mamma, did you
+ever walk in your sleep?'
+
+'Not to my knowledge,' said Lady Annabel, smiling; 'I should hope
+not.'
+
+'Well, do you know,' said Plantagenet, who had hitherto listened in
+silence, 'it is very curious, but I once dreamt that you did, Lady
+Annabel.'
+
+'Indeed!' said the lady.
+
+'Yes! and I dreamt it last night, too,' continued Cadurcis. 'I thought
+I was sleeping in the uninhabited rooms here, and the door opened, and
+you walked in with a light.'
+
+'No! Plantagenet,' said Venetia, who was seated by him, and who spoke
+in a whisper, 'it was not--'
+
+'Hush!' said Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'Well, that was a strange dream,' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'was it not,
+Doctor?'
+
+'Now, children, I will tell you a very curious story,' said the
+Doctor; 'and it is quite a true one, for it happened to myself.'
+
+The Doctor was soon embarked in his tale, and his audience speedily
+became interested in the narrative; but Lady Annabel for some time
+maintained complete silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The spring returned; the intimate relations between the two families
+were each day more confirmed. Lady Annabel had presented her daughter
+and Plantagenet each with a beautiful pony, but their rides were at
+first to be confined to the park, and to be ever attended by a groom.
+In time, however, duly accompanied, they were permitted to extend
+their progress so far as Cadurcis. Mrs. Cadurcis had consented to
+the wishes of her son to restore the old garden, and Venetia was his
+principal adviser and assistant in the enterprise. Plantagenet was
+fond of the abbey, and nothing but the agreeable society of Cherbury
+on the one hand, and the relief of escaping from his mother on the
+other, could have induced him to pass so little of his time at home;
+but, with Venetia for his companion, his mornings at the abbey passed
+charmingly, and, as the days were now at their full length again,
+there was abundance of time, after their studies at Cherbury, to ride
+together through the woods to Cadurcis, spend several hours there, and
+for Venetia to return to the hall before sunset. Plantagenet always
+accompanied her to the limits of the Cherbury grounds, and then
+returned by himself, solitary and full of fancies.
+
+Lady Annabel had promised the children that they should some day
+ride together to Marringhurst, the rectory of Dr. Masham, to eat
+strawberries and cream. This was to be a great festival, and was
+looked forward to with corresponding interest. Her ladyship had kindly
+offered to accompany Mrs. Cadurcis in the carriage, but that lady was
+an invalid and declined the journey; so Lady Annabel, who was herself
+a good horsewoman, mounted her jennet with Venetia and Plantagenet.
+
+Marringhurst was only five miles from Cherbury by a cross-road,
+which was scarcely passable for carriages. The rectory house was a
+substantial, square-built, red brick mansion, shaded by gigantic elms,
+but the southern front covered with a famous vine, trained over it
+with elaborate care, and of which, and his espaliers, the Doctor was
+very proud. The garden was thickly stocked with choice fruit-trees;
+there was not the slightest pretence to pleasure grounds; but there
+was a capital bowling-green, and, above all, a grotto, where the
+Doctor smoked his evening pipe, and moralised in the midst of his
+cucumbers and cabbages. On each side extended the meadows of his
+glebe, where his kine ruminated at will. It was altogether a scene as
+devoid of the picturesque as any that could be well imagined; flat,
+but not low, and rich, and green, and still.
+
+His expected guests met as warm a reception as such a hearty friend
+might be expected to afford. Dr. Masham was scarcely less delighted at
+the excursion than the children themselves, and rejoiced in the sunny
+day that made everything more glad and bright. The garden, the grotto,
+the bowling-green, and all the novelty of the spot, greatly diverted
+his young companions; they visited his farmyard, were introduced to
+his poultry, rambled over his meadows, and admired his cows, which he
+had collected with equal care and knowledge. Nor was the interior of
+this bachelor's residence devoid of amusement. Every nook and corner
+was filled with objects of interest; and everything was in admirable
+order. The goddess of neatness and precision reigned supreme,
+especially in his hall, which, though barely ten feet square, was a
+cabinet of rural curiosities. His guns, his fishing-tackle, a cabinet
+of birds stuffed by himself, a fox in a glass-case that seemed
+absolutely running, and an otter with a real fish in its mouth, in
+turn delighted them; but chiefly, perhaps, his chimney-corner of Dutch
+tiles, all Scriptural subjects, which Venetia and Plantagenet emulated
+each other in discovering.
+
+Then his library, which was rare and splendid, for the Doctor was one
+of the most renowned scholars in the kingdom, and his pictures, his
+prints, and his gold fish, and his canary birds; it seemed they never
+could exhaust such sources of endless amusement; to say nothing of
+every other room in the house, for, from the garret to the dairy,
+his guests encouraged him in introducing them to every thing, every
+person, and every place.
+
+'And this is the way we old bachelors contrive to pass our lives,'
+said the good Doctor; 'and now, my dear lady, Goody Blount will give
+us some dinner.'
+
+The Doctor's repast was a substantial one; he seemed resolved, at one
+ample swoop, to repay Lady Annabel for all her hospitality; and he
+really took such delight in their participation of it, that his
+principal guest was constrained to check herself in more than one
+warning intimation that moderation was desirable, were it only for the
+sake of the strawberries and cream. All this time his housekeeper,
+Goody Blount, as he called her, in her lace cap and ruffles, as
+precise and starch as an old picture, stood behind his chair with
+pleased solemnity, directing, with unruffled composure, the movements
+of the liveried bumpkin who this day was promoted to the honour of
+'waiting at table.'
+
+'Come,' said the Doctor, as the cloth was cleared, 'I must bargain for
+one toast, Lady Annabel: "Church and State."'
+
+'What is Church and State?' said Venetia.
+
+'As good things. Miss Venetia, as strawberries and cream,' said the
+Doctor, laughing; 'and, like them, always best united.'
+
+After their repast, the children went into the garden to amuse
+themselves. They strolled about some time, until Plantagenet at length
+took it into his head that he should like to learn to play at bowls;
+and he said, if Venetia would wait in the grotto, where they then were
+talking, he would run back and ask the Doctor if the servant might
+teach him. He was not long absent; but appeared, on his return, a
+little agitated. Venetia inquired if he had been successful, but he
+shook his head, and said he had not asked.
+
+'Why did you not?' said Venetia.
+
+'I did not like,' he replied, looking very serious; 'something
+happened.'
+
+'What could have happened?' said Venetia.
+
+'Something strange,' was his answer.
+
+'Oh, do tell me, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Why,' said he, in a low voice, 'your mamma is crying.'
+
+'Crying!' exclaimed Venetia; 'my dear mamma crying! I must go to her
+directly.'
+
+'Hush!' said Plantagenet, shaking his head, 'you must not go.'
+
+'I must.'
+
+'No, you must not go, Venetia,' was his reply; 'I am sure she does not
+want us to know she is crying.'
+
+'What did she say to you?'
+
+'She did not see me; the Doctor did, and he gave me a nod to go away.'
+
+'I never saw mamma cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'Don't you say anything about it, Venetia,' said Plantagenet, with a
+manly air; 'listen to what I say.'
+
+'I do, Plantagenet, always; but still I should like to know what mamma
+can be crying about. Do tell me all about it.'
+
+'Why, I came to the room by the open windows, and your mamma was
+standing up, with her back to me, and leaning on the mantel-piece,
+with her face in her handkerchief; and the Doctor was standing up too,
+only his back was to the fireplace; and when he saw me, he made me a
+sign to go away, and I went directly.'
+
+'Are you sure mamma was crying?'
+
+'I heard her sob.'
+
+'I think I shall cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'You must not; you must know nothing about it. If you let your mamma
+know that I saw her crying, I shall never tell you anything again.'
+
+'What do you think she was crying about, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I cannot say; perhaps she had been talking about your papa. I do not
+want to play at bowls now,' added Plantagenet; 'let us go and see the
+cows.'
+
+In the course of half an hour the servant summoned the children to
+the house. The horses were ready, and they were now to return. Lady
+Annabel received them with her usual cheerfulness.
+
+'Well, dear children,' said she, 'have you been very much amused?'
+
+Venetia ran forward, and embraced her mother with even unusual
+fondness. She was mindful of Plantagenet's injunctions, and was
+resolved not to revive her mother's grief by any allusion that could
+recall the past; but her heart was, nevertheless, full of sympathy,
+and she could not have rode home, had she not thus expressed her love
+for her mother.
+
+With the exception of this strange incident, over which, afterwards,
+Venetia often pondered, and which made her rather serious the whole of
+the ride home, this expedition to Marringhurst was a very happy day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+This happy summer was succeeded by a singularly wet autumn. Weeks of
+continuous rain rendered it difficult even for the little Cadurcis,
+who defied the elements, to be so constant as heretofore in his daily
+visits to Cherbury. His mother, too, grew daily a greater invalid,
+and, with increasing sufferings and infirmities, the natural
+captiousness of her temper proportionally exhibited itself. She
+insisted upon the companionship of her son, and that he should not
+leave the house in such unseasonable weather. If he resisted, she fell
+into one of her jealous rages, and taunted him with loving strangers
+better than his own mother. Cadurcis, on the whole, behaved very well;
+he thought of Lady Annabel's injunctions, and restrained his passion.
+Yet he was not repaid for the sacrifice; his mother made no effort
+to render their joint society agreeable, or even endurable. She was
+rarely in an amiable mood, and generally either irritable or sullen.
+If the weather held up a little, and he ventured to pay a visit to
+Cherbury, he was sure to be welcomed back with a fit of passion;
+either Mrs. Cadurcis was angered for being left alone, or had
+fermented herself into fury by the certainty of his catching a fever.
+If Plantagenet remained at the abbey, she was generally sullen; and,
+as he himself was naturally silent under any circumstances, his mother
+would indulge in that charming monologue, so conducive to domestic
+serenity, termed 'talking at a person,' and was continually
+insinuating that she supposed he found it very dull to pass his day
+with her, and that she dared say that somebody could be lively enough
+if he were somewhere else.
+
+Cadurcis would turn pale, and bite his lip, and then leave the room;
+and whole days would sometimes pass with barely a monosyllable being
+exchanged between this parent and child. Cadurcis had found some
+opportunities of pouring forth his griefs and mortification into the
+ear of Venetia, and they had reached her mother; but Lady Annabel,
+though she sympathised with this interesting boy, invariably
+counselled duty. The morning studies were abandoned, but a quantity of
+books were sent over from Cherbury for Plantagenet, and Lady Annabel
+seized every opportunity of conciliating Mrs. Cadurcis' temper in
+favour of her child, by the attention which she paid the mother. The
+weather, however, prevented either herself or Venetia from visiting
+the abbey; and, on the whole, the communications between the two
+establishments and their inmates had become rare.
+
+Though now a continual inmate of the abbey, Cadurcis was seldom the
+companion of his mother. They met at their meals, and that was all. He
+entered the room every day with an intention of conciliating; but the
+mutual tempers of the mother and the son were so quick and sensitive,
+that he always failed in his purpose, and could only avoid a storm
+by dogged silence. This enraged Mrs. Cadurcis more even than his
+impertinence; she had no conduct; she lost all command over herself,
+and did not hesitate to address to her child terms of reproach and
+abuse, which a vulgar mind could only conceive, and a coarse tongue
+alone express. What a contrast to Cherbury, to the mild maternal
+elegance and provident kindness of Lady Annabel, and the sweet tones
+of Venetia's ever-sympathising voice. Cadurcis, though so young, was
+gifted with an innate fastidiousness, that made him shrink from a rude
+woman. His feelings were different in regard to men; he sympathised at
+a very early age with the bold and the energetic; his favourites among
+the peasantry were ever those who excelled in athletic sports; and,
+though he never expressed the opinion, he did not look upon the
+poacher with the evil eye of his class. But a coarse and violent woman
+jarred even his young nerves; and this woman was his mother, his only
+parent, almost his only relation; for he had no near relative except
+a cousin whom he had never even seen, the penniless orphan of a
+penniless brother of his father, and who had been sent to sea; so
+that, after all, his mother was the only natural friend he had. This
+poor little boy would fly from that mother with a sullen brow, or,
+perhaps, even with a harsh and cutting repartee; and then he would
+lock himself up in his room, and weep. But he allowed no witnesses of
+this weakness. The lad was very proud. If any of the household passed
+by as he quitted the saloon, and stared for a moment at his pale and
+agitated face, he would coin a smile for the instant, and say even a
+kind word, for he was very courteous to his inferiors, and all the
+servants loved him, and then take refuge in his solitary woe.
+
+Relieved by this indulgence of his mortified heart, Cadurcis looked
+about him for resources. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the
+plash of the troubled and swollen lake might be heard even at the
+abbey. At night the rising gusts of wind, for the nights were always
+clear and stormy, echoed down the cloisters with a wild moan to which
+he loved to listen. In the morning he beheld with interest the savage
+spoils of the tempest; mighty branches of trees strewn about,
+and sometimes a vast trunk uprooted from its ancient settlement.
+Irresistibly the conviction impressed itself upon his mind that, if
+he were alone in this old abbey, with no mother to break that strange
+fountain of fancies that seemed always to bubble up in his solitude,
+he might be happy. He wanted no companions; he loved to be alone, to
+listen to the winds, and gaze upon the trees and waters, and wander in
+those dim cloisters and that gloomy gallery.
+
+From the first hour of his arrival he had loved the venerable hall of
+his fathers. Its appearance harmonised with all the associations of
+his race. Power and pomp, ancestral fame, the legendary respect of
+ages, all that was great, exciting, and heroic, all that was marked
+out from the commonplace current of human events, hovered round him.
+In the halls of Cadurcis he was the Cadurcis; though a child, he was
+keenly sensible of his high race; his whole being sympathised with
+their glory; he was capable of dying sooner than of disgracing them;
+and then came the memory of his mother's sharp voice and harsh vulgar
+words, and he shivered with disgust.
+
+Forced into solitude, forced to feed upon his own mind, Cadurcis found
+in that solitude each day a dearer charm, and in that mind a richer
+treasure of interest and curiosity. He loved to wander about, dream of
+the past, and conjure up a future as glorious. What was he to be? What
+should be his career? Whither should he wend his course? Even at this
+early age, dreams of far lands flitted over his mind; and schemes of
+fantastic and adventurous life. But now he was a boy, a wretched boy,
+controlled by a vulgar and narrow-minded woman! And this servitude
+must last for years; yes! years must elapse before he was his own
+master. Oh! if he could only pass them alone, without a human voice to
+disturb his musings, a single form to distract his vision!
+
+Under the influence of such feelings, even Cherbury figured to his
+fancy in somewhat faded colours. There, indeed, he was loved and
+cherished; there, indeed, no sound was ever heard, no sight ever seen,
+that could annoy or mortify the high pitch of his unconscious ideal;
+but still, even at Cherbury, he was a child. Under the influence
+of daily intercourse, his tender heart had balanced, perhaps even
+outweighed, his fiery imagination. That constant yet delicate
+affection had softened all his soul: he had no time but to be grateful
+and to love. He returned home only to muse over their sweet society,
+and contrast their refined and gentle life with the harsh rude hearth
+that awaited him. Whatever might be his reception at home, he was
+thrown, back for solace on their memory, not upon his own heart; and
+he felt the delightful conviction that to-morrow would renew the spell
+whose enchantment had enabled him to endure the present vexation. But
+now the magic of that intercourse had ceased; after a few days of
+restlessness and repining, he discovered that he must find in his
+desolation sterner sources of support than the memory of Venetia, and
+the recollections of the domestic joys of Cherbury. It astonishing
+with what rapidity the character of Cadurcis developed itself in
+solitude; and strange was the contrast between the gentle child who,
+a few weeks before, had looked forward with so much interest to
+accompanying Venetia to a childish festival, and the stern and moody
+being who paced the solitary cloisters of Cadurcis, and then would
+withdraw to his lonely chamber and the amusement of a book. He was at
+this time deeply interested in Purchas's Pilgrimage, one of the few
+books of which the late lord had not despoiled him. Narratives of
+travels and voyages always particularly pleased him; he had an idea
+that he was laying up information which might be useful to him
+hereafter; the Cherbury collection was rich in this class of volumes,
+and Lady Annabel encouraged their perusal.
+
+In this way many weeks elapsed at the abbey, during which the visits
+of Plantagenet to Cherbury were very few. Sometimes, if the weather
+cleared for an hour during the morning, he would mount his pony, and
+gallop, without stopping, to the hall. The rapidity of the motion
+excited his mind; he fancied himself, as he embraced Venetia, some
+chieftain who had escaped for a moment from his castle to visit his
+mistress; his imagination conjured up a war between the opposing
+towers of Cadurcis and Cherbury; and when his mother fell into a
+passion on his return, it passed with him only, according to its
+length and spirit, as a brisk skirmish or a general engagement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+One afternoon, on his return from Cherbury, Plantagenet found the fire
+extinguished in the little room which he had appropriated to himself,
+and where he kept his books. As he had expressed his wish to the
+servant that the fire should be kept up, he complained to him of the
+neglect, but was informed, in reply, that the fire had been allowed to
+go out by his mother's orders, and that she desired in future that
+he would always read in the saloon. Plantagenet had sufficient
+self-control to make no observation before the servant, and soon after
+joined his mother, who looked very sullen, as if she were conscious
+that she had laid a train for an explosion.
+
+Dinner was now served, a short and silent meal. Lord Cadurcis did not
+choose to speak because he felt aggrieved, and his mother because
+she was husbanding her energies for the contest which she believed
+impending. At length, when the table was cleared, and the servant
+departed, Cadurcis said in a quiet tone, 'I think I shall write to my
+guardian to-morrow about my going to Eton.'
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, bristling up; 'I
+never heard such a ridiculous idea in my life as a boy like you
+writing letters on such subjects to a person you have never yet seen.
+When I think it proper that you should go to Eton, I shall write.'
+
+'I wish you would think it proper now then, ma'am.'
+
+'I won't be dictated to,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, fiercely.
+
+'I was not dictating,' replied her son, calmly.
+
+'You would if you could,' said his mother.
+
+'Time enough to find fault with me when I do, ma'am.'
+
+'There is enough to find fault about at all times, sir.'
+
+'On which side, Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Plantagenet, with a sneer.
+
+'Don't aggravate me, Lord Cadurcis,' said his mother.
+
+'How am I aggravating you, ma'am?'
+
+'I won't be answered,' said the mother.
+
+'I prefer silence myself,' said the son.
+
+'I won't be insulted in my own room, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'I am not insulting you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Plantagenet, rather
+fiercely; 'and, as for your own room, I never wish to enter it. Indeed
+I should not be here at this moment, had you not ordered my fire to be
+put out, and particularly requested that I should sit in the saloon.'
+
+'Oh! you are a vastly obedient person, I dare say,' replied Mrs.
+Cadurcis, very pettishly. 'How long, I should like to know, have my
+requests received such particular attention? Pooh!'
+
+'Well, then, I will order my fire to be lighted again,' said
+Plantagenet.
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said the mother; 'I am mistress in this
+house. No one shall give orders here but me, and you may write to your
+guardian and tell him that, if you like.'
+
+'I shall certainly not write to my guardian for the first time,' said
+Lord Cadurcis, 'about any such nonsense.'
+
+'Nonsense, sir! Nonsense you said, did you? Your mother nonsense! This
+is the way to treat a parent, is it? I am nonsense, am I? I will teach
+you what nonsense is. Nonsense shall be very good sense; you shall
+find that, sir, that you shall. Nonsense, indeed! I'll write to your
+guardian, that I will! You call your mother nonsense, do you? And
+where did you learn that, I should like to know? Nonsense, indeed!
+This comes of your going to Cherbury! So your mother is nonsense; a
+pretty lesson for Lady Annabel to teach you. Oh! I'll speak my mind to
+her, that I will.'
+
+'What has Lady Annabel to do with it?' inquired Cadurcis, in a loud
+tone.
+
+'Don't threaten me, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, with violent gesture.
+'I won't be menaced; I won't be menaced by my son. Pretty goings
+on, indeed! But I will put a stop to them; will I not? that is all.
+Nonsense, indeed; your mother nonsense!'
+
+'Well, you do talk nonsense, and the greatest,' said Plantagenet,
+doggedly; 'you are talking nonsense now, you are always talking
+nonsense, and you never open your mouth about Lady Annabel without
+talking nonsense.'
+
+'If I was not very ill I would give it you,' said his mother, grinding
+her teeth. 'O you brat! You wicked brat, you! Is this the way to
+address me? I have half a mind to shake your viciousness out of you,
+that I have!
+
+You are worse than your father, that you are!' and here she wept with
+rage.
+
+'I dare say my father was not so bad, after all!' said Cadurcis.
+
+'What should you know about your father, sir?' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+'How dare you speak about your father!'
+
+'Who should speak about a father but a son?'
+
+'Hold your impudence, sir!'
+
+'I am not impudent, ma'am.'
+
+'You aggravating brat!' exclaimed the enraged woman, 'I wish I had
+something to throw at you!'
+
+'Did you throw things at my father?' asked his lordship.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis went into an hysterical rage; then, suddenly jumping up,
+she rushed at her son. Lord Cadurcis took up a position behind
+the table, but the sportive and mocking air which he generally
+instinctively assumed on these occasions, and which, while it
+irritated his mother more, was in reality affected by the boy from a
+sort of nervous desire of preventing these dreadful exposures from
+assuming a too tragic tone, did not characterise his countenance on
+the present occasion; on the contrary, it was pale, but composed and
+very serious. Mrs. Cadurcis, after one or two ineffectual attempts to
+catch him, paused and panted for breath. He took advantage of this
+momentary cessation, and spoke thus, 'Mother, I am in no humour for
+frolics. I moved out of your way that you might not strike me, because
+I have made up my mind that, if you ever strike me again, I will live
+with you no longer. Now, I have given you warning; do what you please;
+I shall sit down in this chair, and not move. If you strike me, you
+know the consequences.' So saying, his lordship resumed his chair.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis simultaneously sprang forward and boxed his ears; and
+then her son rose without the slightest expression of any kind, and
+slowly quitted the chamber.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis remained alone in a savage sulk; hours passed away, and
+her son never made his appearance. Then she rang the bell, and ordered
+the servant to tell Lord Cadurcis that tea was ready; but the servant
+returned, and reported that his lordship had locked himself up in his
+room, and would not reply to his inquiries. Determined not to give in,
+Mrs. Cadurcis, at length, retired for the night, rather regretting her
+violence, but still sullen. Having well scolded her waiting-woman, she
+at length fell asleep.
+
+The morning brought breakfast, but no Lord Cadurcis; in vain were all
+the messages of his mother, her son would make no reply to them. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, at length, personally repaired to his room and knocked at
+the door, but she was as unsuccessful as the servants; she began to
+think he would starve, and desired the servant to offer from himself
+to bring his meal. Still silence. Indignant at his treatment of these
+overtures of conciliation, Mrs. Cadurcis returned to the saloon,
+confident that hunger, if no other impulse, would bring her wild cub
+out of his lair; but, just before dinner, her waiting-woman came
+running into the room.
+
+'Oh, ma'am, ma'am, I don't know where Lord Cadurcis has gone; but I
+have just seen John, and he says there was no pony in the stable this
+morning.'
+
+'Mrs. Cadurcis sprang up, rushed to her son's chamber, found the door
+still locked, ordered it to be burst open, and then it turned out that
+his lordship had never been there at all, for the bed was unused. Mrs.
+Cadurcis was frightened out of her life; the servants, to console
+her, assured her that Plantagenet must be at Cherbury; and while she
+believed their representations, which were probable, she became not
+only more composed, but resumed her jealousy and sullenness. 'Gone
+to Cherbury, indeed! No doubt of it! Let him remain at Cherbury.'
+Execrating Lady Annabel, she flung herself into an easy chair, and
+dined alone, preparing herself to speak her mind on her son's return.
+
+The night, however, did not bring him, and Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+recur to her alarm. Much as she now disliked Lady Annabel, she
+could not resist the conviction that her ladyship would not permit
+Plantagenet to remain at Cherbury. Nevertheless, jealous, passionate,
+and obstinate, she stifled her fears, vented her spleen on her unhappy
+domestics, and, finally, exhausting herself by a storm of passion
+about some very unimportant subject, again sought refuge in sleep.
+
+She awoke early in a fright, and inquired immediately for her son.
+He had not been seen. She ordered the abbey bell to be sounded, sent
+messengers throughout the demesne, and directed all the offices to
+be searched. At first she thought he must have returned, and slept,
+perhaps in a barn; then she adopted the more probable conclusion, that
+he had drowned himself in the lake. Then she went into hysterics;
+called Plantagenet her lost darling; declared he was the best and most
+dutiful of sons, and the image of his poor father, then abused all the
+servants, and then abused herself.
+
+About noon she grew quite distracted, and rushed about the house
+with her hair dishevelled, and in a dressing-gown, looked in all the
+closets, behind the screens, under the chairs, into her work-box, but,
+strange to say, with no success. Then she went off into a swoon, and
+her servants, alike frightened about master and mistress, mother and
+son, dispatched a messenger immediately to Cherbury for intelligence,
+advice, and assistance. In less than an hour's time the messenger
+returned, and informed them that Lord Cadurcis had not been at
+Cherbury since two days back, but that Lady Annabel was very sorry
+to hear that their mistress was so ill, and would come on to see her
+immediately. In the meantime, Lady Annabel added that she had sent
+to Dr. Masham, and had great hopes that Lord Cadurcis was at
+Marringhurst. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had now come to, as her waiting-woman
+described the returning consciousness of her mistress, eagerly
+embraced the hope held out of Plantagenet being at Marringhurst,
+poured forth a thousand expressions of gratitude, admiration, and
+affection for Lady Annabel, who, she declared, was her best, her only
+friend, and the being in the world whom she loved most, next to her
+unhappy and injured child.
+
+After another hour of suspense Lady Annabel arrived, and her entrance
+was the signal for a renewed burst of hysterics from Mrs. Cadurcis, so
+wild and terrible that they must have been contagious to any female of
+less disciplined emotions than her guest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Towards evening Dr. Masham arrived at Cadurcis. He could give no
+intelligence of Plantagenet, who had not called at Marringhurst; but
+he offered, and was prepared, to undertake his pursuit. The good
+Doctor had his saddle-bags well stocked, and was now on his way to
+Southport, that being the nearest town, and where he doubted not
+to gain some tidings of the fugitive. Mrs. Cadurcis he found so
+indisposed, that he anticipated the charitable intentions of Lady
+Annabel not to quit her; and after having bid them place their
+confidence in Providence and his humble exertions, he at once departed
+on his researches.
+
+In the meantime let us return to the little lord himself. Having
+secured the advantage of a long start, by the device of turning the
+key of his chamber, he repaired to the stables, and finding no one
+to observe him, saddled his pony and galloped away without plan or
+purpose. An instinctive love of novelty and adventure induced him to
+direct his course by a road which he had never before pursued; and,
+after two or three miles progress through a wild open country of
+brushwood, he found that he had entered that considerable forest which
+formed the boundary of many of the views from Cadurcis. The afternoon
+was clear and still, the sun shining in the light blue sky, and the
+wind altogether hushed. On each side of the winding road spread the
+bright green turf, occasionally shaded by picturesque groups of
+doddered oaks. The calm beauty of the sylvan scene wonderfully touched
+the fancy of the youthful fugitive; it soothed and gratified him. He
+pulled up his pony; patted its lively neck, as if in gratitude for
+its good service, and, confident that he could not be successfully
+pursued, indulged in a thousand dreams of Robin Hood and his merry
+men. As for his own position and prospects, he gave himself no anxiety
+about them: satisfied with his escape from a revolting thraldom, his
+mind seemed to take a bound from the difficulty of his situation and
+the wildness of the scene, and he felt himself a man, and one, too,
+whom nothing could daunt or appal.
+
+Soon the road itself quite disappeared and vanished in a complete
+turfy track; but the continuing marks of cartwheels assured him that
+it was a thoroughfare, although he was now indeed journeying in the
+heart of a forest of oaks and he doubted not it would lead to some
+town or village, or at any rate to some farmhouse. Towards sunset, he
+determined to make use of the remaining light, and pushed on apace;
+but it soon grew so dark, that he found it necessary to resume his
+walking pace, from fear of the overhanging branches and the trunks of
+felled trees which occasionally crossed his way.
+
+Notwithstanding the probable prospect of passing his night in the
+forest, our little adventurer did not lose heart. Cadurcis was an
+intrepid child, and when in the company of those with whom he was not
+familiar, and free from those puerile associations to which those who
+had known and lived with him long were necessarily subject, he would
+assume a staid and firm demeanour unusual with one of such tender
+years. A light in the distance was now not only a signal that
+the shelter he desired was at hand, but reminded him that it was
+necessary, by his assured port, to prove that he was not unused to
+travel alone, and that he was perfectly competent and qualified to be
+his own master.
+
+As he drew nearer, the lights multiplied, and the moon, which now rose
+over the forest, showed to him that the trees, retiring on both sides
+to some little distance, left a circular plot of ground, on which were
+not only the lights which had at first attracted his attention, but
+the red flames of a watch-fire, round which some dark figures had
+hitherto been clustered. The sound of horses' feet had disturbed them,
+and the fire was now more and more visible. As Cadurcis approached, he
+observed some low tents, and in a few minutes he was in the centre of
+an encampment of gipsies. He was for a moment somewhat dismayed, for
+he had been brought up with the usual terror of these wild people;
+nevertheless, he was not unequal to the occasion. He was surrounded in
+an instant, but only with women and children; for the gipsy-men never
+immediately appear. They smiled with their bright eyes, and the flames
+of the watch-fire threw a lurid glow over their dark and flashing
+countenances; they held out their practised hands; they uttered
+unintelligible, but not unfriendly sounds. The heart of Cadurcis
+faltered, but his voice did not betray him.
+
+'I am cold, good people,' said the undaunted boy; 'will you let me
+warm myself by your fire?'
+
+A beautiful girl, with significant gestures, pressed her hand to her
+heart, then pointed in the direction of the tents, and then rushed
+away, soon reappearing with a short thin man, inclining to middle age,
+but of a compact and apparently powerful frame, lithe, supple, and
+sinewy. His complexion was dark, but clear; his eye large, liquid, and
+black; but his other features small, though precisely moulded. He wore
+a green jacket and a pair of black velvet breeches, his legs and feet
+being bare, with the exception of slippers. Round his head was twisted
+a red handkerchief, which, perhaps, might not have looked like a
+turban on a countenance less oriental.
+
+'What would the young master?' inquired the gipsy-man, in a voice far
+from disagreeable, and with a gesture of courtesy; but, at the same
+time, he shot a scrutinising glance first at Plantagenet, and then at
+his pony.
+
+'I would remain with you,' said Cadurcis; 'that is, if you will let
+me.'
+
+The gipsy-man made a sign to the women, and Plantagenet was lifted
+by them off his pony, before he could be aware of their purpose; the
+children led the pony away, and the gipsy-man conducted Plantagenet to
+the fire, where an old woman sat, presiding over the mysteries of an
+enormous flesh-pot. Immediately his fellows, who had originally been
+clustered around it, re-appeared; fresh blocks and branches were
+thrown on, the flames crackled and rose, the men seated themselves
+around, and Plantagenet, excited by the adventure, rubbed his hands
+before the fire, and determined to fear nothing.
+
+A savoury steam exuded from the flesh-pot.
+
+'That smells well,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Tis a dimber cove,'[A] whispered one of the younger men to a
+companion.
+
+[Footnote A: 'Tis a lively lad.]
+
+'Our supper has but rough seasoning for such as you,' said the man who
+had first saluted him, and who was apparently the leader; 'but the
+welcome is hearty.'
+
+The woman and girls now came with wooden bowls and platters, and,
+after serving the men, seated themselves in an exterior circle, the
+children playing round them.
+
+'Come, old mort,' said the leader, in a very different tone to the one
+in which he addressed his young guest, 'tout the cobble-colter; are we
+to have darkmans upon us? And, Beruna, flick the panam.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Come, old woman, took after the turkey. Are we to wait
+till night! And, Beruna, cut the bread.]
+
+Upon this, that beautiful girl, who had at first attracted the notice
+of Cadurcis, called out in a sweet lively voice, 'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+and in a moment handed over the heads of the women a pannier of bread,
+which the leader took, and offered its contents to our fugitive.
+Cadurcis helped himself, with a bold but gracious air. The pannier was
+then passed round, and the old woman, opening the pot, drew out, with
+a huge iron fork, a fine turkey, which she tossed into a large wooden
+platter, and cut up with great quickness. First she helped Morgana,
+but only gained a reproof for her pains, who immediately yielded his
+portion to Plantagenet. Each man was provided with his knife, but the
+guest had none. Morgana immediately gave up his own.
+
+'Beruna!' he shouted, 'gibel a chiv for the gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Bring a knife for the gentleman.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!' said the girl; and she brought the knife to
+Plantagenet himself, saying at the same time, with sparkling eyes,
+'Yam, yam, gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Eat, eat, gentleman.]
+
+Cadurcis really thought it was the most delightful meal he had ever
+made in his life. The flesh-pot held something besides turkeys. Rough
+as was the fare, it was good and plentiful. As for beverage, they
+drank humpty-dumpty, which is ale boiled with brandy, and which is
+not one of the slightest charms of a gipsy's life. When the men were
+satisfied, their platters were filled, and given to the women and
+children; and Beruna, with her portion, came and seated herself by
+Plantagenet, looking at him with a blended glance of delight and
+astonishment, like a beautiful young savage, and then turning to her
+female companions to stifle a laugh. The flesh-pot was carried away,
+the men lit their pipes, the fire was replenished, its red shadow
+mingled with the silver beams of the moon; around were the glittering
+tents and the silent woods; on all sides flashing eyes and picturesque
+forms. Cadurcis glanced at his companions, and gazed upon the scene
+with feelings of ravishing excitement; and then, almost unconscious of
+what he was saying, exclaimed, 'At length I have found the life that
+suits me!'
+
+'Indeed, squire!' said Morgana. 'Would you be one of us?'
+
+'From this moment,' said Cadurcis, 'if you will admit me to your band.
+But what can I do? And I have nothing to give you. You must teach me
+to earn my right to our supper.'
+
+'We'll make a Turkey merchant[A] of you yet,' said an old gipsy,
+'never fear that.'
+
+[Footnote A: _i.e._ We will teach you to steal a turkey]
+
+'Bah, Peter!' said Morgana, with an angry look, 'your red rag will
+never be still. And what was the purpose of your present travel?' he
+continued to Plantagenet.
+
+'None; I was sick of silly home.'
+
+'The gentry cove will be romboyled by his dam,' said a third gipsy.
+'Queer Cuffin will be the word yet, if we don't tout.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: His mother will make a hue and cry after the gentleman
+yet; justice of the peace will be the word, if we don't look sharp.]
+
+'Well, you shall see a little more of us before you decide,' said
+Morgana, thoughtfully, and turning the conversation. 'Beruna.'
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+
+'Tip me the clank, like a dimber mort as you are; trim a ken for the
+gentry cove; he is no lanspresado, or I am a kinchin.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Give me the tankard, like a pretty girl. Get a bed ready
+for the gentleman. He is no informer, or I am an infant.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana' gaily exclaimed the girl, and she ran off to prepare
+a bed for the Lord of Cadurcis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Dr. Masham could gain no tidings of the object of his pursuit at
+Southport: here, however, he ascertained that Plantagenet could not
+have fled to London, for in those days public conveyances were rare.
+There was only one coach that ran, or rather jogged, along this road,
+and it went but once a week, it being expected that very night; while
+the innkeeper was confident that so far as Southport was concerned,
+his little lordship had not sought refuge in the waggon, which
+was more frequent, though somewhat slower, in its progress to the
+metropolis. Unwilling to return home, although the evening was now
+drawing in, the Doctor resolved to proceed to a considerable town
+about twelve miles further, which Cadurcis might have reached by a
+cross road; so drawing his cloak around him, looking to his pistols,
+and desiring his servant to follow his example, the stout-hearted
+Rector of Marringhurst pursued his way.
+
+It was dark when the Doctor entered the town, and he proceeded
+immediately to the inn where the coach was expected, with some faint
+hope that the fugitive might be discovered abiding within its walls;
+but, to all his inquiries about young gentlemen and ponies, he
+received very unsatisfactory answers; so, reconciling himself as well
+as he could to the disagreeable posture of affairs, he settled himself
+in the parlour of the inn, with a good fire, and, lighting his pipe,
+desired his servant to keep a sharp look-out.
+
+In due time a great uproar in the inn-yard announced the arrival of
+the stage, an unwieldy machine, carrying six inside, and dragged by as
+many horses. The Doctor, opening the door of his apartment, which
+led on to a gallery that ran round the inn-yard, leaned over the
+balustrade with his pipe in his mouth, and watched proceedings. It so
+happened that the stage was to discharge one of its passengers at this
+town, who had come from the north, and the Doctor recognised in him a
+neighbour and brother magistrate, one Squire Mountmeadow, an important
+personage in his way, the terror of poachers, and somewhat of an
+oracle on the bench, as it was said that he could take a deposition
+without the assistance of his clerk. Although, in spite of the
+ostler's lanterns, it was very dark, it was impossible ever to be
+unaware of the arrival of Squire Mountmeadow; for he was one of those
+great men who take care to remind the world of their dignity by the
+attention which they require on every occasion.
+
+'Coachman!' said the authoritative voice of the Squire. 'Where is the
+coachman? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Postilion! Where is the
+postilion? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Host! Where is the host?
+Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Waiter! Where is the waiter? I say
+where is the waiter?'
+
+'Coming, please your worship!'
+
+'How long am I to wait? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Coachman!'
+
+'Your worship!'
+
+'Postilion!'
+
+'Yes, your worship!'
+
+'Host!'
+
+'Your worship's servant!'
+
+'Waiter!'
+
+'Your worship's honour's humble servant!'
+
+'I am going to alight!'
+
+All four attendants immediately bowed, and extended their arms to
+assist this very great man; but Squire Mountmeadow, scarcely deigning
+to avail himself of their proffered assistance, and pausing on each
+step, looking around him with his long, lean, solemn visage, finally
+reached terra firma in safety, and slowly stretched his tall, ungainly
+figure. It was at this moment that Dr. Masham's servant approached
+him, and informed his worship that his master was at the inn, and
+would be happy to see him. The countenance of the great Mountmeadow
+relaxed at the mention of the name of a brother magistrate, and in an
+audible voice he bade the groom 'tell my worthy friend, his worship,
+your worthy master, that I shall be rejoiced to pay my respects to an
+esteemed neighbour and a brother magistrate.'
+
+With slow and solemn steps, preceded by the host, and followed by the
+waiter, Squire Mountmeadow ascended the staircase of the external
+gallery, pausing occasionally, and looking around him with thoughtful
+importance, and making an occasional inquiry as to the state of the
+town and neighbourhood during his absence, in this fashion: 'Stop!
+where are you, host? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Well, Mr. Host,
+and how have we been? orderly, eh?'
+
+'Quite orderly, your worship.'
+
+'Hoh! Orderly! Hem! Well, very well! Never easy, if absent only
+four-and-twenty hours. The law must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship.'
+
+'Lead on, sir. And, waiter; where are you, waiter? Oh, you are there,
+sir, are you? And so my brother magistrate is here?'
+
+'Yes, your honour's worship.'
+
+'Hem! What can he want? something in the wind; wants my advice, I dare
+say; shall have it. Soldiers ruly; king's servants; must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship; quite ruly, your worship,' said the host.
+
+'As obliging and obstreperous as can be,' said the waiter.
+
+'Well, very well;' and here the Squire had gained the gallery, where
+the Doctor was ready to receive him.
+
+'It always gives me pleasure to meet a brother magistrate,' said
+Squire Mountmeadow, bowing with cordial condescension; 'and a
+gentleman of your cloth, too. The clergy must be respected; I stand or
+fall by the Church. After you, Doctor, after you.' So saying, the two
+magistrates entered the room.
+
+'An unexpected pleasure, Doctor,' said the Squire; 'and what brings
+your worship to town?'
+
+'A somewhat strange business,' said the Doctor; 'and indeed I am not a
+little glad to have the advantage of your advice and assistance.'
+
+'Hem! I thought so,' said the Squire; 'your worship is very
+complimentary. What is the case? Larceny?'
+
+'Nay, my good sir, 'tis a singular affair; and, if you please, we will
+order supper first, and discuss it afterwards. 'Tis for your private
+ear.'
+
+'Oh! ho!' said the Squire, looking very mysterious and important.
+'With your worship's permission,' he added, filling a pipe.
+
+The host was no laggard in waiting on two such important guests. The
+brother magistrates despatched their rump-steak; the foaming tankard
+was replenished; the fire renovated. At length, the table and the room
+being alike clear, Squire Mountmeadow drew a long puff, and said, 'Now
+for business, Doctor.'
+
+His companion then informed him of the exact object of his visit, and
+narrated to him so much of the preceding incidents as was necessary.
+The Squire listened in solemn silence, elevating his eyebrows, nodding
+his head, trimming his pipe, with profound interjections; and finally,
+being appealed to for his opinion by the Doctor, delivered himself of
+a most portentous 'Hem!'
+
+'I question, Doctor,' said the Squire, 'whether we should not
+communicate with the Secretary of State. 'Tis no ordinary business.
+'Tis a spiriting away of a Peer of the realm. It smacks of treason.'
+
+'Egad!' said the Doctor, suppressing a smile, 'I think we can hardly
+make a truant boy a Cabinet question.'
+
+The Squire glanced a look of pity at his companion. 'Prove the
+truancy, Doctor; prove it. 'Tis a case of disappearance; and how do we
+know that there is not a Jesuit at the bottom of it?'
+
+'There is something in that,' said the Doctor.
+
+'There is everything in it,' said the Squire, triumphantly. 'We must
+offer rewards; we must raise the posse comitatus.'
+
+'For the sake of the family, I would make as little stir as
+necessary,' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'For the sake of the family!' said the Squire. 'Think of the nation,
+sir! For the sake of the nation we must make as much stir as possible.
+'Tis a Secretary of State's business; 'tis a case for a general
+warrant.'
+
+'He is a well-meaning lad enough,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Ay, and therefore more easily played upon,' said the Squire. 'Rome is
+at the bottom of it, brother Masham, and I am surprised that a good
+Protestant like yourself, one of the King's Justices of the Peace, and
+a Doctor of Divinity to boot, should doubt the fact for an instant.'
+
+'We have not heard much of the Jesuits of late years,' said the
+Doctor.
+
+'The very reason that they are more active,' said the Squire.
+
+'An only child!' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'A Peer of the realm!' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'I should think he must be in the neighbourhood.'
+
+'More likely at St. Omer's.'
+
+'They would scarely take him to the plantations with this war?'
+
+'Let us drink "Confusion to the rebels!"' said the Squire. 'Any news?'
+
+'Howe sails this week,' said the Doctor.
+
+'May he burn Boston!' said the Squire.
+
+'I would rather he would reduce it, without such extremities,' said
+Dr. Masham.
+
+'Nothing is to be done without extremities,' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'But this poor child?' said the Doctor, leading back the conversation.
+'What can we do?'
+
+'The law of the case is clear,' said the Squire; 'we must move a
+habeas corpus.'
+
+'But shall we be nearer getting him for that?' inquired the Doctor.
+
+'Perhaps not, sir; but 'tis the regular way. We must proceed by rule.'
+
+'I am sadly distressed,' said Dr. Masham. 'The worst is, he has gained
+such a start upon us; and yet he can hardly have gone to London; he
+would have been recognised here or at Southport.'
+
+'With his hair cropped, and in a Jesuit's cap?' inquired the Squire,
+with a slight sneer. 'Ah! Doctor, Doctor, you know not the gentry you
+have to deal with!'
+
+'We must hope,' said Dr. Masham. 'To-morrow we must organise some
+general search.'
+
+'I fear it will be of no use,' said the Squire, replenishing his pipe.
+'These Jesuits are deep fellows.'
+
+'But we are not sure about the Jesuits, Squire.'
+
+'I am,' said the Squire; 'the case is clear, and the sooner you break
+it to his mother the better. You asked me for my advice, and I give it
+you.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+It was on the following morning, as the Doctor was under the operation
+of the barber, that his groom ran into the room with a pale face and
+agitated air, and exclaimed,
+
+'Oh! master, master, what do you think? Here is a man in the yard with
+my lord's pony.'
+
+'Stop him, Peter,' exclaimed the Doctor. 'No! watch him, watch him;
+send for a constable. Are you certain 'tis the pony?'
+
+'I could swear to it out of a thousand,' said Peter.
+
+'There, never mind my beard, my good man,' said the Doctor. 'There is
+no time for appearances. Here is a robbery, at least; God grant no
+worse. Peter, my boots!' So saying, the Doctor, half equipped, and
+followed by Peter and the barber, went forth on the gallery. 'Where is
+he?' said the Doctor.
+
+'He is down below, talking to the ostler, and trying to sell the
+pony,' said Peter.
+
+'There is no time to lose,' said the Doctor; 'follow me, like true
+men:' and the Doctor ran downstairs in his silk nightcap, for his wig
+was not yet prepared.
+
+'There he is,' said Peter; and true enough there was a man in a
+smock-frock and mounted on the very pony which Lady Annabel had
+presented to Plantagenet.
+
+'Seize this man in the King's name,' said the Doctor, hastily
+advancing to him. 'Ostler, do your duty; Peter, be firm. I charge you
+all; I am a justice of the peace. I charge you arrest this man.'
+
+The man seemed very much astonished; but he was composed, and offered
+no resistance. He was dressed like a small farmer, in top-boots and a
+smock-frock. His hat was rather jauntily placed on his curly red hair.
+
+'Why am I seized?' at length said the man.
+
+'Where did you get that pony?' said the Doctor.
+
+'I bought it,' was the reply.
+
+'Of whom?'
+
+'A stranger at market.'
+
+'You are accused of robbery, and suspected of murder,' said Dr.
+Masham. 'Mr. Constable,' said the Doctor, turning to that functionary,
+who had now arrived, 'handcuff this man, and keep him in strict
+custody until further orders.'
+
+The report that a man was arrested for robbery, and suspected of
+murder, at the Red Dragon, spread like wildfire through the town;
+and the inn-yard was soon crowded with the curious and excited
+inhabitants.
+
+Peter and the barber, to whom he had communicated everything, were
+well qualified to do justice to the important information of which
+they were the sole depositaries; the tale lost nothing by their
+telling; and a circumstantial narrative of the robbery and murder of
+no less a personage than Lord Cadurcis, of Cadurcis Abbey, was soon
+generally prevalent.
+
+The stranger was secured in a stable, before which the constable kept
+guard; mine host, and the waiter, and the ostlers acted as a sort of
+supernumerary police, to repress the multitude; while Peter held the
+real pony by the bridle, whose identity, which he frequently attested,
+was considered by all present as an incontrovertible evidence of the
+commission of the crime.
+
+In the meantime Dr. Masham, really agitated, roused his brother
+magistrate, and communicated to his worship the important discovery.
+The Squire fell into a solemn flutter. 'We must be regular, brother
+Masham; we must proceed by rule; we are a bench in ourselves. Would
+that my clerk were here! We must send for Signsealer forthwith. I will
+not decide without the statutes. The law must be consulted, and it
+must be obeyed. The fellow hath not brought my wig. 'Tis a case of
+murder no doubt. A Peer of the realm murdered! You must break the
+intelligence to his surviving parent, and I will communicate to the
+Secretary of State. Can the body be found? That will prove the murder.
+Unless the body be found, the murder will not be proved, save
+the villain confess, which he will not do unless he hath sudden
+compunctions. I have known sudden compunctions go a great way. We had
+a case before our bench last month; there was no evidence. It was not
+a case of murder; it was of woodcutting; there was no evidence; but
+the defendant had compunctions. Oh! here is my wig. We must send for
+Signsealer. He is clerk to our bench, and he must bring the statutes.
+'Tis not simple murder this; it involves petty treason.'
+
+By this time his worship had completed his toilet, and he and his
+colleague took their way to the parlour they had inhabited the
+preceding evening. Mr. Signsealer was in attendance, much to the real,
+though concealed, satisfaction of Squire Mountmeadow. Their worships
+were seated like two consuls before the table, which Mr. Signsealer
+had duly arranged with writing materials and various piles of
+calf-bound volumes. Squire Mountmeadow then, arranging his
+countenance, announced that the bench was prepared, and mine host was
+instructed forthwith to summon the constable and his charge, together
+with Peter and the ostler as witnesses. There was a rush among some of
+the crowd who were nighest the scene to follow the prisoner into the
+room; and, sooth to say, the great Mountmeadow was much too enamoured
+of his own self-importance to be by any means a patron of close courts
+and private hearings; but then, though he loved his power to be
+witnessed, he was equally desirous that his person should be
+reverenced. It was his boast that he could keep a court of quarter
+sessions as quiet as a church; and now, when the crowd rushed in with
+all those sounds of tumult incidental to such a movement, it required
+only Mountmeadow slowly to rise, and drawing himself up to the full
+height of his gaunt figure, to knit his severe brow, and throw one
+of his peculiar looks around the chamber, to insure a most awful
+stillness. Instantly everything was so hushed, that you might have
+heard Signsealer nib his pen.
+
+The witnesses were sworn; Peter proved that the pony belonged to Lord
+Cadurcis, and that his lordship had been missing from home for several
+days, and was believed to have quitted the abbey on this identical
+pony. Dr. Masham was ready, if necessary, to confirm this evidence.
+The accused adhered to his first account, that he had purchased the
+animal the day before at a neighbouring fair, and doggedly declined to
+answer any cross-examination. Squire Mountmeadow looked alike pompous
+and puzzled; whispered to the Doctor; and then shook his head at Mr.
+Signsealer.
+
+'I doubt whether there be satisfactory evidence of the murder, brother
+Masham,' said the Squire; 'what shall be our next step?'
+
+'There is enough evidence to keep this fellow in custody,' said the
+Doctor. 'We must remand him, and make inquiries at the market town.
+I shall proceed there immediately, He is a strange-looking fellow,'
+added the Doctor: 'were it not for his carroty locks, I should
+scarcely take him for a native.'
+
+'Hem!' said the Squire, 'I have my suspicions. Fellow,' continued his
+worship, in an awful tone, 'you say that you are a stranger, and that
+your name is Morgan; very suspicious all this: you have no one to
+speak to your character or station, and you are found in possession of
+stolen goods. The bench will remand you for the present, and will at
+any rate commit you for trial for the robbery. But here is a Peer of
+the realm missing, fellow, and you are most grievously suspected of
+being concerned in his spiriting away, or even murder. You are upon
+tender ground, prisoner; 'tis a case verging on petty treason, if not
+petty treason itself. Eh! Mr. Signsealer? Thus runs the law, as I take
+it? Prisoner, it would be well for you to consider your situation.
+Have you no compunctions? Compunctions might save you, if not a
+principal offender. It is your duty to assist the bench in executing
+justice. The Crown is merciful; you may be king's evidence.'
+
+Mr. Signsealer whispered the bench; he proposed that the prisoner's
+hat should be examined, as the name of its maker might afford a clue
+to his residence.
+
+'True, true, Mr. Clerk,' said Squire Mountmeadow, 'I am coming to
+that. 'Tis a sound practice; I have known such a circumstance lead to
+great disclosures. But we must proceed in order. Order is everything.
+Constable, take the prisoner's hat off.'
+
+The constable took the hat off somewhat rudely; so rudely, indeed,
+that the carroty locks came off in company with it, and revealed a
+profusion of long plaited hair, which had been adroitly twisted under
+the wig, more in character with the countenance than its previous
+covering.
+
+'A Jesuit, after all!' exclaimed the Squire.
+
+'A gipsy, as it seems to me,' whispered the Doctor.
+
+'Still worse,' said the Squire.
+
+'Silence in the Court!' exclaimed the awful voice of Squire
+Mountmeadow, for the excitement of the audience was considerable.
+The disguise was generally esteemed as incontestable evidence of the
+murder. 'Silence, or I will order the Court to be cleared. Constable,
+proclaim silence. This is an awful business,' added the Squire, with a
+very long face. 'Brother Masham, we must do our duty; but this is an
+awful business. At any rate we must try to discover the body. A Peer
+of the realm must not be suffered to lie murdered in a ditch. He must
+have Christian burial, if possible, in the vaults of his ancestors.'
+
+When Morgana, for it was indeed he, observed the course affairs were
+taking, and ascertained that his detention under present circumstances
+was inevitable, he relaxed from his doggedness, and expressed a
+willingness to make a communication to the bench. Squire Mountmeadow
+lifted up his eyes to Heaven, as if entreating the interposition of
+Providence to guide him in his course; then turned to his brother
+magistrate, and then nodded to the clerk.
+
+'He has compunctions, brother Masham,' said his worship: 'I told you
+so; he has compunctions. Trust me to deal with these fellows. He knew
+not his perilous situation; the hint of petty treason staggered him.
+Mr. Clerk, take down the prisoner's confession; the Court must be
+cleared; constable, clear the Court. Let a stout man stand on each
+side of the prisoner, to protect the bench. The magistracy of England
+will never shrink from doing their duty, but they must be protected.
+Now, prisoner, the bench is ready to hear your confession. Conceal
+nothing, and if you were not a principal in the murder, or an
+accessory before the fact; eh, Mr. Clerk, thus runs the law, as I take
+it? there may be mercy; at any rate, if you be hanged, you will have
+the satisfaction of having cheerfully made the only atonement to
+society in your power.'
+
+'Hanging be damned!' said Morgana.
+
+Squire Mountmeadow started from his seat, his cheeks distended with
+rage, his dull eyes for once flashing fire. 'Did you ever witness such
+atrocity, brother Masham?' exclaimed his worship. 'Did you hear the
+villain? I'll teach him to respect the bench. I'll fine him before he
+is executed, that I will!'
+
+'The young gentleman to whom this pony belongs,' continued the gipsy,
+'may or may not be a lord. I never asked him his name, and he never
+told it me; but he sought hospitality of me and my people, and we gave
+it him, and he lives with us, of his own free choice. The pony is of
+no use to him now, and so I came to sell it for our common good.'
+
+'A Peer of the realm turned gipsy!' exclaimed the Squire. 'A very
+likely tale! I'll teach you to come here and tell your cock-and-bull
+stories to two of his majesty's justices of the peace. 'Tis a flat
+case of robbery and murder, and I venture to say something else. You
+shall go to gaol directly, and the Lord have mercy on your soul!'
+
+'Nay,' said the gipsy, appealing to Dr. Marsham; 'you, sir, appear to
+be a friend of this youth. You will not regain him by sending me to
+gaol. Load me, if you will, with irons; surround me with armed men,
+but at least give me the opportunity of proving the truth of what I
+say. I offer in two hours to produce to you the youth, and you shall
+find he is living with my people in content and peace.'
+
+'Content and fiddlestick!' said the Squire, in a rage.
+
+'Brother Mountmeadow,' said the Doctor, in a low tone, to his
+colleague, 'I have private duties to perform to this family. Pardon
+me if, with all deference to your sounder judgment and greater
+experience, I myself accept the prisoner's offer.'
+
+'Brother Masham, you are one of his majesty's justices of the peace,
+you are a brother magistrate, and you are a Doctor of Divinity; you
+owe a duty to your country, and you owe a duty to yourself. Is it
+wise, is it decorous, that one of the Quorum should go a-gipsying?
+Is it possible that you can credit this preposterous tale? Brother
+Masham, there will be a rescue, or my name is not Mountmeadow.'
+
+In spite, however, of all these solemn warnings, the good Doctor, who
+was not altogether unaware of the character of his pupil, and could
+comprehend that it was very possible the statement of the gipsy might
+be genuine, continued without very much offending his colleague, who
+looked upon, his conduct indeed rather with pity than resentment,
+to accept the offer of Morgana; and consequently, well-secured and
+guarded, and preceding the Doctor, who rode behind the cart with his
+servant, the gipsy soon sallied forth from the inn-yard, and requested
+the driver to guide his course in the direction of the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+It was the afternoon of the third day after the arrival of Cadurcis at
+the gipsy encampment, and nothing had yet occurred to make him repent
+his flight from the abbey, and the choice of life he had made. He had
+experienced nothing but kindness and hospitality, while the beautiful
+Beruna seemed quite content to pass her life in studying his
+amusement. The weather, too, had been extremely favourable to his new
+mode of existence; and stretched at his length upon the rich turf,
+with his head on Beruna's lap, and his eyes fixed upon the rich forest
+foliage glowing in the autumnal sunset, Plantagenet only wondered
+that he could have endured for so many years the shackles of his
+common-place home.
+
+His companions were awaiting the return of their leader, Morgana,
+who had been absent since the preceding day, and who had departed on
+Plantagenet's pony. Most of them were lounging or strolling in the
+vicinity of their tents; the children were playing; the old woman was
+cooking at the fire; and altogether, save that the hour was not so
+late, the scene presented much the same aspect as when Cadurcis had
+first beheld it. As for his present occupation, Beruna was giving him
+a lesson in the gipsy language, which he was acquiring with a rapid
+facility, which quite exceeded all his previous efforts in such
+acquisitions.
+
+Suddenly a scout sang out that a party was in sight. The men instantly
+disappeared; the women were on the alert; and one ran forward as a
+spy, on pretence of telling fortunes. This bright-eyed professor of
+palmistry soon, however, returned running, and out of breath, yet
+chatting all the time with inconceivable rapidity, and accompanying
+the startling communication she was evidently making with the most
+animated gestures. Beruna started up, and, leaving the astonished
+Cadurcis, joined them. She seemed alarmed. Cadurcis was soon convinced
+there was consternation in the camp.
+
+Suddenly a horseman galloped up, and was immediately followed by a
+companion. They called out, as if encouraging followers, and one of
+them immediately galloped away again, as if to detail the results
+of their reconnaissance. Before Cadurcis could well rise and make
+inquiries as to what was going on, a light cart, containing several
+men, drove up, and in it, a prisoner, he detected Morgana. The
+branches of the trees concealed for a moment two other horsemen
+who followed the cart; but Cadurcis, to his infinite alarm and
+mortification, soon recognised Dr. Masham and Peter.
+
+When the gipsies found their leader was captive, they no longer
+attempted to conceal themselves; they all came forward, and would have
+clustered round the cart, had not the riders, as well as those who
+more immediately guarded the prisoner, prevented them. Morgana spoke
+some words in a loud voice to the gipsies, and they immediately
+appeared less agitated; then turning to Dr. Masham, he said in
+English, 'Behold your child!'
+
+Instantly two gipsy men seized Cadurcis, and led him to the Doctor.
+
+'How now, my lord!' said the worthy Rector, in a stern voice, 'is this
+your duty to your mother and your friends?'
+
+Cadurcis looked down, but rather dogged than ashamed.
+
+'You have brought an innocent man into great peril,' continued the
+Doctor. 'This person, no longer a prisoner, has been arrested on
+suspicion of robbery, and even murder, through your freak. Morgana, or
+whatever your name may be, here is some reward for your treatment of
+this child, and some compensation for your detention. Mount your pony,
+Lord Cadurcis, and return to your home with me.'
+
+'This is my home, sir,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, this childish nonsense must cease; it has already
+endangered the life of your mother, nor can I answer for her safety,
+if you lose a moment in returning.'
+
+'Child, you must return,' said Morgana.
+
+'Child!' said Plantagenet, and he walked some steps away, and leant
+against a tree. 'You promised that I should remain,' said he,
+addressing himself reproachfully to Morgana.
+
+'You are not your own master,' said the gipsy; 'your remaining here
+will only endanger and disturb us. Fortunately we have nothing to fear
+from laws we have never outraged; but had there been a judge less wise
+and gentle than the master here, our peaceful family might have been
+all harassed and hunted to the very death.'
+
+He waved his hand, and addressed some words to his tribe, whereupon
+two brawny fellows seized Cadurcis, and placed him again, in spite of
+his struggling, upon his pony, with the same irresistible facility
+with which they had a few nights before dismounted him. The little
+lord looked very sulky, but his position was beginning to get
+ludicrous. Morgana, pocketing his five guineas, leaped over the side
+of the cart, and offered to guide the Doctor and his attendants
+through the forest. They moved on accordingly. It was the work of an
+instant, and Cadurcis suddenly found himself returning home between
+the Rector and Peter. Not a word, however, escaped his lips; once only
+he moved; the light branch of a tree, aimed with delicate precision,
+touched his back; he looked round; it was Beruna. She kissed her hand
+to him, and a tear stole down his pale, sullen cheek, as, taking from
+his breast his handkerchief, he threw it behind him, unperceived, that
+she might pick it up, and keep it for his sake.
+
+After proceeding two or three miles under the guidance of Morgana, the
+equestrians gained the road, though it still ran through the forest.
+Here the Doctor dismissed the gipsy-man, with whom he had occasionally
+conversed during their progress; but not a sound ever escaped from the
+mouth of Cadurcis, or rather, the captive, who was now substituted in
+Morgana's stead. The Doctor, now addressing himself to Plantagenet,
+informed him that it was of importance that they should make the best
+of their way, and so he put spurs to his mare, and Cadurcis sullenly
+complied with the intimation. At this rate, in the course of little
+more than another hour, they arrived in sight of the demesne of
+Cadurcis, where they pulled up their steeds.
+
+They entered the park, they approached the portal of the abbey; at
+length they dismounted. Their coming was announced by a servant, who
+had recognised his lord at a distance, and had ran on before with the
+tidings. When they entered the abbey, they were met by Lady Annabel in
+the cloisters; her countenance was very serious. She shook hands with
+Dr. Masham, but did not speak, and immediately led him aside. Cadurcis
+remained standing in the very spot where Doctor Masham left him, as if
+he were quite a stranger in the place, and was no longer master of
+his own conduct. Suddenly Doctor Masham, who was at the end of the
+cloister, while Lady Annabel was mounting the staircase, looked round
+with a pale face, and said in an agitated voice, 'Lord Cadurcis, Lady
+Annabel wishes to speak to you in the saloon.'
+
+Cadurcis immediately, but slowly, repaired to the saloon. Lady Annabel
+was walking up and down in it. She seemed greatly disturbed. When she
+saw him, she put her arm round his neck affectionately, and said in
+a low voice, 'My dearest Plantagenet, it has devolved upon me to
+communicate to you some distressing intelligence.' Her voice faltered,
+and the tears stole down her cheek.
+
+'My mother, then, is dangerously ill?' he inquired in a calm but
+softened tone.
+
+'It is even sadder news than that, dear child.'
+
+Cadurcis looked about him wildly, and then with an inquiring glance at
+Lady Annabel:
+
+'There can be but one thing worse than that,' he at length said.
+
+'What if it have happened?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+He threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his hands.
+After a few minutes he looked up and said, in a low but distinct
+voice, 'It is too terrible to think of; it is too terrible to mention;
+but, if it have happened, let me be alone.'
+
+Lady Annabel approached him with a light step; she embraced him, and,
+whispering that she should be found in the next room, she quitted the
+apartment.
+
+Cadurcis remained seated for more than half an hour without changing
+in the slightest degree his position. The twilight died away; it grew
+quite dark; he looked up with a slight shiver, and then quitted the
+apartment.
+
+In the adjoining room, Lady Annabel was seated with Doctor Masham,
+and giving him the details of the fatal event. It had occurred that
+morning. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had never slept a wink since her knowledge
+of her son's undoubted departure, and scarcely for an hour been free
+from violent epileptic fits, had fallen early in the morning into a
+doze, which lasted about half an hour, and from which her medical
+attendant, who with Pauncefort had sat up with her during the night,
+augured the most favourable consequences. About half-past six o'clock
+she woke, and inquired whether Plantagenet had returned. They answered
+her that Doctor Masham had not yet arrived, but would probably be at
+the abbey in the course of the morning. She said it would be too late.
+They endeavoured to encourage her, but she asked to see Lady Annabel,
+who was immediately called, and lost no time in repairing to her. When
+Mrs. Cadurcis recognised her, she held out her hand, and said in a
+dying tone, 'It was my fault; it was ever my fault; it is too late
+now; let him find a mother in you.' She never spoke again, and in the
+course of an hour expired.
+
+While Lady Annabel and the Doctor were dwelling on these sad
+circumstances, and debating whether he should venture to approach
+Plantagenet, and attempt to console him, for the evening was now
+far advanced, and nearly three hours had elapsed since the fatal
+communication had been made to him, it happened that Mistress
+Pauncefort chanced to pass Mrs. Cadurcis' room, and as she did so she
+heard some one violently sobbing. She listened, and hearing the sounds
+frequently repeated, she entered the room, which, but for her candle,
+would have been quite dark, and there she found Lord Cadurcis kneeling
+and weeping by his mother's bedside. He seemed annoyed at being seen
+and disturbed, but his spirit was too broken to murmur. 'La! my lord,'
+said Mistress Pauncefort, 'you must not take on so; you must not
+indeed. I am sure this dark room is enough to put any one in low
+spirits. Now do go downstairs, and sit with my lady and the Doctor,
+and try to be cheerful; that is a dear good young gentleman. I wish
+Miss Venetia were here, and then she would amuse you. But you must not
+take on, because there is no use in it. You must exert yourself, for
+what is done cannot be undone; and, as the Doctor told us last Sunday,
+we must all die; and well for those who die with a good conscience;
+and I am sure the poor dear lady that is gone must have had a good
+conscience, because she had a good heart, and I never heard any one
+say the contrary. Now do exert yourself, my dear lord, and try to be
+cheerful, do; for there is nothing like a little exertion in these
+cases, for God's will must be done, and it is not for us to say yea or
+nay, and taking on is a murmuring against God's providence.' And so
+Mistress Pauncefort would have continued urging the usual topics of
+coarse and common-place consolation; but Cadurcis only answered with a
+sigh that came from the bottom of his heart, and said with streaming
+eyes, 'Ah! Mrs. Pauncefort, God had only given me one friend in this
+world, and there she lies.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+The first conviction that there is death in the house is perhaps the
+most awful moment of youth. When we are young, we think that not only
+ourselves, but that all about us, are immortal. Until the arrow has
+struck a victim round our own hearth, death is merely an unmeaning
+word; until then, its casual mention has stamped no idea upon our
+brain. There are few, even among those least susceptible of thought
+and emotion, in whose hearts and minds the first death in the family
+does not act as a powerful revelation of the mysteries of life, and of
+their own being; there are few who, after such a catastrophe, do not
+look upon the world and the world's ways, at least for a time, with
+changed and tempered feelings. It recalls the past; it makes us ponder
+over the future; and youth, gay and light-hearted youth, is taught,
+for the first time, to regret and to fear.
+
+On Cadurcis, a child of pensive temperament, and in whose strange
+and yet undeveloped character there was, amid lighter elements, a
+constitutional principle of melancholy, the sudden decease of his
+mother produced a profound effect. All was forgotten of his parent,
+except the intimate and natural tie, and her warm and genuine
+affection. He was now alone in the world; for reflection impressed
+upon him at this moment what the course of existence too generally
+teaches to us all, that mournful truth, that, after all, we have no
+friends that we can depend upon in this life but our parents. All
+other intimacies, however ardent, are liable to cool; all other
+confidence, however unlimited, to be violated. In the phantasmagoria
+of life, the friend with whom we have cultivated mutual trust for
+years is often suddenly or gradually estranged from us, or becomes,
+from, painful, yet irresistible circumstances, even our deadliest foe.
+As for women, as for the mistresses of our hearts, who has not learnt
+that the links of passion are fragile as they are glittering; and
+that the bosom on which we have reposed with idolatry all our secret
+sorrows and sanguine hopes, eventually becomes the very heart that
+exults in our misery and baffles our welfare? Where is the enamoured
+face that smiled upon our early love, and was to shed tears over our
+grave? Where are the choice companions of our youth, with whom we were
+to breast the difficulties and share the triumphs of existence? Even
+in this inconstant world, what changes like the heart? Love is a
+dream, and friendship a delusion. No wonder we grow callous; for how
+few have the opportunity of returning to the hearth which they quitted
+in levity or thoughtless weariness, yet which alone is faithful to
+them; whose sweet affections require not the stimulus of prosperity
+or fame, the lure of accomplishments, or the tribute of flattery; but
+which are constant to us in distress, and console us even in disgrace!
+
+Before she retired for the night, Lady Annabel was anxious to see
+Plantagenet. Mistress Pauncefort had informed her of his visit to
+his mother's room. Lady Annabel found Cadurcis in the gallery, now
+partially lighted by the moon which had recently risen. She entered
+with her light, as if she were on her way to her own room, and not
+seeking him.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'will you not go to bed?'
+
+'I do not intend to go to bed to-night,' he replied.
+
+She approached him and took him by the hand, which he did not withdraw
+from her, and they walked together once or twice up and down the
+gallery.
+
+'I think, dear child,' said Lady Annabel, 'you had better come and sit
+with us.'
+
+'I like to be alone,' was his answer; but not in a sullen voice, low
+and faltering.
+
+'But in sorrow we should be with our friends,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have no friends,' he answered. 'I only had one.'
+
+'I am your friend, dear child; I am your mother now, and you shall
+find me one if you like. And Venetia, have you forgotten your sister?
+Is she not your friend? And Dr. Masham, surely you cannot doubt his
+friendship?'
+
+Cadurcis tried to stifle a sob. 'Ay, Lady Annabel,' he said, 'you are
+my friend now, and so are you all; and you know I love you much. But
+you were not my friends two years ago; and things will change again;
+they will, indeed. A mother is your friend as long as she lives; she
+cannot help being your friend.'
+
+'You shall come to Cherbury and live with us,' said Lady Annabel.' You
+know you love Cherbury, and you shall find it a home, a real home.'
+
+He pressed her hand to his lips; the hand was covered with his tears.
+
+'We will go to Cherbury to-morrow, dear Plantagenet; remaining here
+will only make you sad.'
+
+'I will never leave Cadurcis again while my mother is in this house,'
+he said, in a firm and serious voice. And then, after a moment's
+pause, he added, 'I wish to know when the burial is to take place.'
+
+'We will ask Dr. Masham,' replied Lady Annabel. 'Come, let us go to
+him; come, my own child.'
+
+He permitted himself to be led away. They descended to the small
+apartment where Lady Annabel had been previously sitting. They found
+the Doctor there; he rose and pressed Plantagenet's hand with great
+emotion. They made room for him at the fire between them; he sat in
+silence, with his gaze intently fixed upon the decaying embers,
+yet did not quit his hold of Lady Annabel's hand. He found it a
+consolation to him; it linked him to a being who seemed to love him.
+As long as he held her hand he did not seem quite alone in the world.
+
+Now nobody spoke; for Lady Annabel felt that Cadurcis was in some
+degree solaced; and she thought it unwise to interrupt the more
+composed train of his thoughts. It was, indeed, Plantagenet himself
+who first broke silence.
+
+'I do not think I can go to bed, Lady Annabel,' he said. 'The thought
+of this night is terrible to me. I do not think it ever can end. I
+would much sooner sit up in this room.'
+
+'Nay! my child, sleep is a great consoler; try to go to bed, love.'
+
+'I should like to sleep in my mother's room,' was his strange reply.
+'It seems to me that I could sleep there. And if I woke in the night,
+I should like to see her.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor exchanged looks.
+
+'I think,' said the Doctor, 'you had better sleep in my room, and
+then, if you wake in the night, you will have some one to speak to.
+You will find that a comfort.'
+
+'Yes, that you will,' said Lady Annabel. 'I will go and have the sofa
+bed made up in the Doctor's room for you. Indeed that will be the very
+best plan.'
+
+So at last, but not without a struggle, they persuaded Cadurcis to
+retire. Lady Annabel embraced him tenderly when she bade him good
+night; and, indeed, he felt consoled by her affection.
+
+As nothing could persuade Plantagenet to leave the abbey until his
+mother was buried, Lady Annabel resolved to take up her abode there,
+and she sent the next morning for Venetia. There were a great many
+arrangements to make about the burial and the mourning; and Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham were obliged, in consequence, to go the next
+morning to Southport; but they delayed their departure until the
+arrival of Venetia, that Cadurcis might not be left alone.
+
+The meeting between himself and Venetia was a very sad one, and yet
+her companionship was a great solace. Venetia urged every topic that
+she fancied could reassure his spirits, and upon the happy home he
+would find at Cherbury.
+
+'Ah!' said Cadurcis, 'they will not leave me here; I am sure of that.
+I think our happy days are over, Venetia.'
+
+What mourner has not felt the magic of time? Before the funeral could
+take place, Cadurcis had recovered somewhat of his usual cheerfulness,
+and would indulge with Venetia in plans of their future life. And
+living, as they all were, under the same roof, sharing the same
+sorrows, participating in the same cares, and all about to wear the
+same mournful emblems of their domestic calamity, it was difficult for
+him to believe that he was indeed that desolate being he had at first
+correctly estimated himself. Here were true friends, if such could
+exist; here were fine sympathies, pure affections, innocent and
+disinterested hearts! Every domestic tie yet remained perfect, except
+the spell-bound tie of blood. That wanting, all was a bright and happy
+vision, that might vanish in an instant, and for ever; that perfect,
+even the least graceful, the most repulsive home, had its irresistible
+charms; and its loss, when once experienced, might be mourned for
+ever, and could never be restored.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+After the funeral of Mrs. Cadurcis, the family returned to Cherbury
+with Plantagenet, who was hereafter to consider it his home. All that
+the most tender solicitude could devise to reconcile him to the change
+in his life was fulfilled by Lady Annabel and her daughter, and, under
+their benignant influence, he soon regained his usual demeanour. His
+days were now spent as in the earlier period of their acquaintance,
+with the exception of those painful returns to home, which had once
+been a source to him of so much gloom and unhappiness. He pursued his
+studies as of old, and shared the amusements of Venetia. His allotted
+room was ornamented by her drawings, and in the evenings they read
+aloud by turns to Lady Annabel the volume which she selected. The
+abbey he never visited again after his mother's funeral.
+
+Some weeks had passed in this quiet and contented manner, when one
+day Doctor Masham, who, since the death of his mother, had been
+in correspondence with his guardian, received a letter from that
+nobleman, to announce that he had made arrangements for sending his
+ward to Eton, and to request that he would accordingly instantly
+proceed to the metropolis. This announcement occasioned both Cadurcis
+and Venetia poignant affliction. The idea of separation was to both
+of them most painful; and although Lady Annabel herself was in
+some degree prepared for an arrangement, which sooner or later she
+considered inevitable, she was herself scarcely less distressed.
+The good Doctor, in some degree to break the bitterness of parting,
+proposed accompanying Plantagenet to London, and himself personally
+delivering the charge, in whose welfare they were so much interested,
+to his guardian. Nevertheless, it was a very sad affair, and the week
+which was to intervene before his departure found both himself and
+Venetia often in tears. They no longer took any delight in their
+mutual studies but passed the day walking about and visiting old
+haunts, and endeavouring to console each other for what they both
+deemed a great calamity, and which was indeed, the only serious
+misfortune Venetia had herself experienced in the whole course of her
+serene career.
+
+'But if I were really your brother,' said Plantagenet, 'I must have
+quitted you the same, Venetia. Boys always go to school; and then we
+shall be so happy when I return.'
+
+'Oh! but we are so happy now, Plantagenet. I cannot believe that we
+are going to part. And are you sure that you will return? Perhaps your
+guardian will not let you, and will wish you to spend your holidays at
+his house. His house will be your home now.'
+
+It was impossible for a moment to forget the sorrow that was impending
+over them. There were so many preparations to be made for his
+departure, that every instant something occurred to remind them of
+their sorrow. Venetia sat with tears in her eyes marking his new
+pocket-handkerchiefs which they had all gone to Southport to purchase,
+for Plantagenet asked, as a particular favour, that no one should mark
+them but Venetia. Then Lady Annabel gave Plantagenet a writing-case,
+and Venetia filled it with pens and paper, that he might never want
+means to communicate with them; and her evenings were passed in
+working him a purse, which Lady Annabel took care should be well
+stocked. All day long there seemed something going on to remind them
+of what was about to happen; and as for Pauncefort, she flounced in
+and out the room fifty times a day, with 'What is to be done about my
+lord's shirts, my lady? I think his lordship had better have another
+dozen, your la'ship. Better too much than too little, I always say;'
+or, 'O! my lady, your la'ship cannot form an idea of what a state my
+lord's stockings are in, my lady. I think I had better go over to
+Southport with John, my lady, and buy him some;' or, 'Please, my lady,
+did I understand your la'ship spoke to the tailor on Thursday about
+my lord's things? I suppose your la'ship knows my lord has got no
+great-coat?'
+
+Every one of these inquiries made Venetia's heart tremble. Then there
+was the sad habit of dating every coming day by its distance from
+the fatal one. There was the last day but four, and the last day
+but three, and the last day but two. The last day but one at length
+arrived; and at length, too, though it seemed incredible, the last day
+itself.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia both rose very early, that they might make it
+as long as possible. They sighed involuntarily when they met, and then
+they went about to pay last visits to every creature and object of
+which they had been so long fond. Plantagenet went to bid farewell
+to the horses and adieu to the cows, and then walked down to the
+woodman's cottage, and then to shake hands with the keeper. He would
+not say 'Good-bye' to the household until the very last moment; and as
+for Marmion, the bloodhound, he accompanied both of them so faithfully
+in this melancholy ramble, and kept so close to both, that it was
+useless to break the sad intelligence to him yet.
+
+'I think now, Venetia, we have been to see everything,' said
+Plantagenet, 'I shall see the peacocks at breakfast time. I wish Eton
+was near Cherbury, and then I could come home on Sunday. I cannot bear
+going to Cadurcis again, but I should like you to go once a week, and
+try to keep up our garden, and look after everything, though there is
+not much that will not take care of itself, except the garden. We made
+that together, and I could not bear its being neglected.'
+
+Venetia could not assure him that no wish of his should be neglected,
+because she was weeping.
+
+'I am glad the Doctor,' he continued, 'is going to take me to town.
+I should be very wretched by myself. But he will put me in mind of
+Cherbury, and we can talk together of Lady Annabel and you. Hark! the
+bell rings; we must go to breakfast, the last breakfast but one.'
+
+Lady Annabel endeavoured, by unusual good spirits, to cheer up her
+little friends. She spoke of Plantagenet's speedy return so much as a
+matter of course, and the pleasant things they were to do when he came
+back, that she really succeeded in exciting a smile in Venetia's April
+face, for she was smiling amid tears.
+
+Although it was the last day, time hung heavily on their hands. After
+breakfast they went over the house together; and Cadurcis, half with
+genuine feeling, and half in a spirit of mockery of their sorrow, made
+a speech to the inanimate walls, as if they were aware of his intended
+departure. At length, in their progress, they passed the door of the
+closed apartments, and here, holding Venetia's hand, he stopped, and,
+with an expression of irresistible humour, making a low bow to them,
+he said, very gravely, 'And good-bye rooms that I have never entered;
+perhaps, before I come back, Venetia will find out what is locked up
+in you!'
+
+Dr. Masham arrived for dinner, and in a postchaise. The unusual
+conveyance reminded them of the morrow very keenly. Venetia could not
+bear to see the Doctor's portmanteau taken out and carried into the
+hall. She had hopes, until then, that something would happen and
+prevent all this misery. Cadurcis whispered her, 'I say, Venetia, do
+not you wish this was winter?'
+
+'Why, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Because then we might have a good snowstorm, and be blocked up again
+for a week.'
+
+Venetia looked at the sky, but not a cloud was to be seen.
+
+The Doctor was glad to warm himself at the hall-fire, for it was a
+fresh autumnal afternoon.
+
+'Are you cold, sir?' said Venetia, approaching him.
+
+'I am, my little maiden,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Do you think there is any chance of its snowing, Doctor Masham?'
+
+'Snowing! my little maiden; what can you be thinking of?'
+
+The dinner was rather gayer than might have been expected. The Doctor
+was jocular, Lady Annabel lively, and Plantagenet excited by an
+extraordinary glass of wine. Venetia alone remained dispirited. The
+Doctor made mock speeches and proposed toasts, and told Plantagenet
+that he must learn to make speeches too, or what would he do when
+he was in the House of Lords? And then Plantagenet tried to make a
+speech, and proposed Venetia's health; and then Venetia, who could not
+bear to hear herself praised by him on such a day, the last day, burst
+into tears. Her mother called her to her side and consoled her, and
+Plantagenet jumped up and wiped her eyes with one of those very
+pocket-handkerchiefs on which she had embroidered his cipher and
+coronet with her own beautiful hair. Towards evening Plantagenet began
+to experience the reaction of his artificial spirits. The Doctor had
+fallen into a gentle slumber, Lady Annabel had quitted the room,
+Venetia sat with her hand in Plantagenet's on a stool by the fireside.
+Both were sad and silent. At last Venetia said, 'O Plantagenet, I
+wish I were your real sister! Perhaps, when I see you again, you will
+forget this,' and she turned the jewel that was suspended round her
+neck, and showed him the inscription.
+
+'I am sure when I see you-again, Venetia,' he replied, 'the only
+difference will be, that I shall love you more than ever.'
+
+'I hope so,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am sure of it. Now remember what we are talking about. When we meet
+again, we shall see which of us two will love each other the most.'
+
+'O Plantagenet, I hope they will be kind to you at Eton.'
+
+'I will make them.'
+
+'And, whenever you are the least unhappy, you will write to us?'
+
+'I shall never be unhappy about anything but being away from you. As
+for the rest, I will make people respect me; I know what I am.'
+
+'Because if they do not behave well to you, mamma could ask Dr. Masham
+to go and see you, and they will attend to him; and I would ask him
+too. I wonder,' she continued after a moment's pause, 'if you have
+everything you want. I am quite sure the instant you are gone, we
+shall remember something you ought to have; and then I shall be quite
+brokenhearted.'
+
+'I have got everything.'
+
+'You said you wanted a large knife.'
+
+'Yes! but I am going to buy one in London. Dr. Masham says he will
+take me to a place where the finest knives in the world are to be
+bought. It is a great thing to go to London with Dr. Masham.'
+
+'I have never written your name in your Bible and Prayer-book. I will
+do it this evening.'
+
+'Lady Annabel is to write it in the Bible, and you are to write it in
+the Prayer-book.'
+
+'You are to write to us from London by Dr. Masham, if only a line.'
+
+'I shall not fail.'
+
+'Never mind about your handwriting; but mind you write.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel's step was heard, and Plantagenet said,
+'Give me a kiss, Venetia, for I do not mean to bid good-bye to-night.'
+
+'But you will not go to-morrow before we are up?'
+
+'Yes, we shall.'
+
+'Now, Plantagenet, I shall be up to bid you good-bye, mind that'
+
+Lady Annabel entered, the Doctor woke, lights followed, the servant
+made up the fire, and the room looked cheerful again. After tea,
+the names were duly written in the Bible and Prayer-book; the last
+arrangements were made, all the baggage was brought down into the
+hall, all ransacked their memory and fancy, to see if it were possible
+that anything that Plantagenet could require was either forgotten
+or had been omitted. The clock struck ten; Lady Annabel rose. The
+travellers were to part at an early hour: she shook hands with Dr.
+Masham, but Cadurcis was to bid her farewell in her dressing-room, and
+then, with heavy hearts and glistening eyes, they all separated. And
+thus ended the last day!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+Venetia passed a restless night. She was so resolved to be awake in
+time for Plantagenet's departure, that she could not sleep; and at
+length, towards morning, fell, from exhaustion, into a light slumber,
+from which she sprang up convulsively, roused by the sound of the
+wheels of the postchaise. She looked out of her window, and saw the
+servant strapping on the portmanteaus. Shortly after this she heard
+Plantagenet's step in the vestibule; he passed her room, and proceeded
+to her mother's dressing-room, at the door of which she heard him
+knock, and then there was silence.
+
+'You are in good time,' said Lady Annabel, who was seated in an easy
+chair when Plantagenet entered her room. 'Is the Doctor up?'
+
+'He is breakfasting.'
+
+'And have you breakfasted?'
+
+'I have no appetite.'
+
+'You should take something, my child, before you go. Now, come hither,
+my dear Plantagenet,' she said, extending her hand; 'listen to me, one
+word. When you arrive in London, you will go to your guardian's. He
+is a great man, and I believe a very good one, and the law and your
+father's will have placed him in the position of a parent to you. You
+must therefore love, honour, and obey him; and I doubt not he will
+deserve all your affection, respect, and duty. Whatever he desires or
+counsels you will perform, and follow. So long as you act according to
+his wishes, you cannot be wrong. But, my dear Plantagenet, if by any
+chance it ever happens, for strange things sometimes happen in this
+world, that you are in trouble and require a friend, remember that
+Cherbury is also your home; the home of your heart, if not of the law;
+and that not merely from my own love for you, but because I promised
+your poor mother on her death-bed, I esteem myself morally, although
+not legally, in the light of a parent to you. You will find Eton a
+great change; you will experience many trials and temptations; but you
+will triumph over and withstand them all, if you will attend to these
+few directions. Fear God; morning and night let nothing induce you
+ever to omit your prayers to Him; you will find that praying will
+make you happy. Obey your superiors; always treat your masters with
+respect. Ever speak the truth. So long as you adhere to this rule,
+you never can be involved in any serious misfortune. A deviation from
+truth is, in general, the foundation of all misery. Be kind to your
+companions, but be firm. Do not be laughed into doing that which you
+know to be wrong. Be modest and humble, but ever respect yourself.
+Remember who you are, and also that it is your duty to excel.
+Providence has given you a great lot. Think ever that you are born to
+perform great duties.
+
+'God bless you, Plantagenet!' she continued, after a slight pause,
+with a faltering voice, 'God bless you, my sweet child. And God will
+bless you if you remember Him. Try also to remember us,' she added, as
+she embraced him, and placed in his hand Venetia's well-lined purse.
+'Do not forget Cherbury and all it contains; hearts that love you
+dearly, and will pray ever for your welfare.'
+
+Plantagenet leant upon her bosom. He had entered the room resolved to
+be composed, with an air even of cheerfulness, but his tender heart
+yielded to the first appeal to his affections. He could only murmur
+out some broken syllables of devotion, and almost unconsciously found
+that he had quitted the chamber.
+
+With streaming eyes and hesitating steps he was proceeding along the
+vestibule, when he heard his name called by a low sweet voice. He
+looked around; it was Venetia. Never had he beheld such a beautiful
+vision. She was muffled up in her dressing-gown, her small white feet
+only guarded from the cold by her slippers. Her golden hair seemed to
+reach her waist, her cheek was flushed, her large blue eyes glittered
+with tears.
+
+'Plantagenet,' she said--
+
+Neither of them could speak. They embraced, they mingled their tears
+together, and every instant they wept more plenteously. At length a
+footstep was heard; Venetia murmured a blessing, and vanished.
+
+Cadurcis lingered on the stairs a moment to compose himself. He wiped
+his eyes; he tried to look undisturbed. All the servants were in the
+hall; from Mistress Pauncefort to the scullion there was not a dry
+eye. All loved the little lord, he was so gracious and so gentle.
+Every one asked leave to touch his hand before he went. He tried to
+smile and say something kind to all. He recognised the gamekeeper,
+and told him to do what he liked at Cadurcis; said something to the
+coachman about his pony; and begged Mistress Pauncefort, quite aloud,
+to take great care of her young mistress. As he was speaking, he
+felt something rubbing against his hand: it was Marmion, the old
+bloodhound. He also came to bid his adieus. Cadurcis patted him with
+affection, and said, 'Ah! my old fellow, we shall yet meet again.'
+
+The Doctor appeared, smiling as usual, made his inquiries whether all
+were right, nodded to the weeping household, called Plantagenet his
+brave boy, and patted him on the back, and bade him jump into the
+chaise. Another moment, and Dr. Masham had also entered; the door was
+closed, the fatal 'All right' sung out, and Lord Cadurcis was whirled
+away from that Cherbury where he was so loved.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Life is not dated merely by years. Events are sometimes the best
+calendars. There are epochs in our existence which cannot be
+ascertained by a formal appeal to the registry. The arrival of the
+Cadurcis family at their old abbey, their consequent intimacy at
+Cherbury, the death of the mother, and the departure of the son: these
+were events which had been crowded into a space of less than two
+years; but those two years were not only the most eventful in the life
+of Venetia Herbert, but in their influence upon the development of her
+mind, and the formation of her character, far exceeded the effects of
+all her previous existence.
+
+Venetia once more found herself with no companion but her mother,
+but in vain she attempted to recall the feelings she had before
+experienced under such circumstances, and to revert to the resources
+she had before commanded. No longer could she wander in imaginary
+kingdoms, or transform the limited world of her experience into a
+boundless region of enchanted amusement. Her play-pleasure hours were
+fled for ever. She sighed for her faithful and sympathising companion.
+The empire of fancy yielded without a struggle to the conquering sway
+of memory.
+
+For the first few weeks Venetia was restless and dispirited, and when
+she was alone she often wept. A mysterious instinct prompted her,
+however, not to exhibit such emotion before her mother. Yet she loved
+to hear Lady Annabel talk of Plantagenet, and a visit to the abbey was
+ever her favourite walk. Sometimes, too, a letter arrived from Lord
+Cadurcis, and this was great joy; but such communications were rare.
+Nothing is more difficult than for a junior boy at a public school to
+maintain a correspondence; yet his letters were most affectionate,
+and always dwelt upon the prospect of his return. The period for this
+hoped-for return at length arrived, but it brought no Plantagenet.
+His guardian wished that the holidays should be spent under his roof.
+Still at intervals Cadurcis wrote to Cherbury, to which, as time flew
+on, it seemed destined he never was to return. Vacation followed
+vacation, alike passed with his guardian, either in London, or at
+a country seat still more remote from Cherbury, until at length it
+became so much a matter of course that his guardian's house should
+be esteemed his home, that Plantagenet ceased to allude even to the
+prospect of return. In time his letters became rarer and rarer, until,
+at length, they altogether ceased. Meanwhile Venetia had overcome the
+original pang of separation; if not as gay as in old days, she was
+serene and very studious; delighting less in her flowers and birds,
+but much more in her books, and pursuing her studies with an
+earnestness and assiduity which her mother was rather fain to check
+than to encourage. Venetia Herbert, indeed, promised to become a most
+accomplished woman. She had a fine ear for music, a ready tongue for
+languages; already she emulated her mother's skill in the arts; while
+the library of Cherbury afforded welcome and inexhaustible resources
+to a girl whose genius deserved the richest and most sedulous
+cultivation, and whose peculiar situation, independent of her studious
+predisposition, rendered reading a pastime to her rather than a
+task. Lady Annabel watched the progress of her daughter with lively
+interest, and spared no efforts to assist the formation of her
+principles and her taste. That deep religious feeling which was the
+characteristic of the mother had been carefully and early cherished
+in the heart of the child, and in time the unrivalled writings of the
+great divines of our Church became a principal portion of her reading.
+Order, method, severe study, strict religious exercise, with no
+amusement or relaxation but of the most simple and natural character,
+and with a complete seclusion from society, altogether formed a
+system, which, acting upon a singularly susceptible and gifted nature,
+secured the promise in Venetia Herbert, at fourteen years of age, of
+an extraordinary woman; a system, however, against which her lively
+and somewhat restless mind might probably have rebelled, had not
+that system been so thoroughly imbued with all the melting spell of
+maternal affection. It was the inspiration of this sacred love that
+hovered like a guardian angel over the life of Venetia. It roused her
+from her morning slumbers with an embrace, it sanctified her evening
+pillow with a blessing; it anticipated the difficulty of the student's
+page, and guided the faltering hand of the hesitating artist; it
+refreshed her memory, it modulated her voice; it accompanied her in
+the cottage, and knelt by her at the altar. Marvellous and beautiful
+is a mother's love. And when Venetia, with her strong feelings and
+enthusiastic spirit, would look around and mark that a graceful form
+and a bright eye were for ever watching over her wants and wishes,
+instructing with sweetness, and soft even with advice, her whole soul
+rose to her mother, all thoughts and feelings were concentrated in
+that sole existence, and she desired no happier destiny than to pass
+through life living in the light of her mother's smiles, and clinging
+with passionate trust to that beneficent and guardian form.
+
+But with all her quick and profound feelings Venetia was thoughtful
+and even shrewd, and when she was alone her very love for her
+mother, and her gratitude for such an ineffable treasure as parental
+affection, would force her mind to a subject which at intervals had
+haunted her even from her earliest childhood. Why had she only one
+parent? What mystery was this that enveloped that great tie? For
+that there was a mystery Venetia felt as assured as that she was a
+daughter. By a process which she could not analyse, her father had
+become a forbidden subject. True, Lady Annabel had placed no formal
+prohibition upon its mention; nor at her present age was Venetia one
+who would be influenced in her conduct by the bygone and arbitrary
+intimations of a menial; nevertheless, that the mention of her father
+would afford pain to the being she loved best in the world, was a
+conviction which had grown with her years and strengthened with her
+strength. Pardonable, natural, even laudable as was the anxiety of the
+daughter upon such a subject, an instinct with which she could not
+struggle closed the lips of Venetia for ever upon this topic. His name
+was never mentioned, his past existence was never alluded to. Who was
+he? That he was of noble family and great position her name betokened,
+and the state in which they lived. He must have died very early;
+perhaps even before her mother gave her birth. A dreadful lot indeed;
+and yet was the grief that even such a dispensation might occasion, so
+keen, so overwhelming, that after fourteen long years his name might
+not be permitted, even for an instant, to pass the lips of his
+bereaved wife? Was his child to be deprived of the only solace for
+his loss, the consolation of cherishing his memory? Strange, passing
+strange indeed, and bitter! At Cherbury the family of Herbert were
+honoured only from tradition. Until the arrival of Lady Annabel, as we
+have before mentioned, they had not resided at the hall for more than
+half a century. There were no old retainers there from whom Venetia
+might glean, without suspicion, the information for which she panted.
+Slight, too, as was Venetia's experience of society, there were times
+when she could not resist the impression that her mother was not
+happy; that there was some secret sorrow that weighed upon her
+spirit, some grief that gnawed at her heart. Could it be still the
+recollection of her lost sire? Could one so religious, so resigned,
+so assured of meeting the lost one in a better world, brood with a
+repining soul over the will of her Creator? Such conduct was entirely
+at variance with all the tenets of Lady Annabel. It was not thus she
+consoled the bereaved, that she comforted the widow, and solaced the
+orphan. Venetia, too, observed everything and forgot nothing. Not an
+incident of her earliest childhood that was not as fresh in her memory
+as if it had occurred yesterday. Her memory was naturally keen; living
+in solitude, with nothing to distract it, its impressions never faded
+away. She had never forgotten her mother's tears the day that she and
+Plantagenet had visited Marringhurst. Somehow or other Dr. Masham
+seemed connected with this sorrow. Whenever Lady Annabel was most
+dispirited it was after an interview with that gentleman; yet the
+presence of the Doctor always gave her pleasure, and he was the most
+kind-hearted and cheerful of men. Perhaps, after all, it was only her
+illusion; perhaps, after all, it was the memory of her father to which
+her mother was devoted, and which occasionally overcame her; perhaps
+she ventured to speak of him to Dr. Masham, though not to her
+daughter, and this might account for that occasional agitation which
+Venetia had observed at his visits. And yet, and yet, and yet; in vain
+she reasoned. There is a strange sympathy which whispers convictions
+that no evidence can authorise, and no arguments dispel. Venetia
+Herbert, particularly as she grew older, could not refrain at times
+from yielding to the irresistible belief that her existence was
+enveloped in some mystery. Mystery too often presupposes the idea of
+guilt. Guilt! Who was guilty? Venetia shuddered at the current of her
+own thoughts. She started from the garden seat in which she had fallen
+into this dangerous and painful reverie; flew to her mother, who
+received her with smiles; and buried her face in the bosom of Lady
+Annabel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+We have indicated in a few pages the progress of three years. How
+differently passed to the two preceding ones, when the Cadurcis family
+were settled at the abbey! For during this latter period it seemed
+that not a single incident had occurred. They had glided away in one
+unbroken course of study, religion, and domestic love, the enjoyment
+of nature, and the pursuits of charity; like a long summer
+sabbath-day, sweet and serene and still, undisturbed by a single
+passion, hallowed and hallowing.
+
+If the Cadurcis family were now not absolutely forgotten at Cherbury,
+they were at least only occasionally remembered. These last three
+years so completely harmonised with the life of Venetia before their
+arrival, that, taking a general view of her existence, their residence
+at the abbey figured only as an episode in her career; active indeed
+and stirring, and one that had left some impressions not easily
+discarded; but, on the whole, mellowed by the magic of time, Venetia
+looked back to her youthful friendship as an event that was only an
+exception in her lot, and she viewed herself as a being born and bred
+up in a seclusion which she was never to quit, with no aspirations
+beyond the little world in which she moved, and where she was to die
+in peace, as she had lived in purity.
+
+One Sunday, the conversation after dinner fell upon Lord Cadurcis.
+Doctor Masham had recently met a young Etonian, and had made some
+inquiries about their friend of old days. The information he had
+obtained was not very satisfactory. It seemed that Cadurcis was a more
+popular boy with his companions than his tutors; he had been rather
+unruly, and had only escaped expulsion by the influence of his
+guardian, who was not only a great noble, but a powerful minister.
+
+This conversation recalled old times. They talked over the arrival of
+Mrs. Cadurcis at the abbey, her strange character, her untimely end.
+Lady Annabel expressed her conviction of the natural excellence of
+Plantagenet's disposition, and her regret of the many disadvantages
+under which he laboured; it gratified Venetia to listen to his praise.
+
+'He has quite forgotten us, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+'My love, he was very young when he quitted us,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and you must remember the influence of a change of life at so tender
+an age. He lives now in a busy world.'
+
+'I wish that he had not forgotten to write to us sometimes,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Writing a letter is a great achievement for a schoolboy,' said the
+Doctor; 'it is a duty which even grown-up persons too often forget
+to fulfil, and, when postponed, it is generally deferred for ever.
+However, I agree with Lady Annabel, Cadurcis was a fine fellow, and
+had he been properly brought up, I cannot help thinking, might have
+turned out something.'
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia, 'how I pity him. His was a terrible
+lot, to lose both his parents! Whatever were the errors of Mrs.
+Cadurcis, she was his mother, and, in spite of every mortification, he
+clung to her. Ah! I shall never forget when Pauncefort met him coming
+out of her room the night before the burial, when he said, with
+streaming eyes, "I only had one friend in the world, and now she is
+gone." I could not love Mrs. Cadurcis, and yet, when I heard of these
+words, I cried as much as he.'
+
+'Poor fellow!' said the Doctor, filling his glass.
+
+'If there be any person in the world whom I pity,' said Venetia, ''tis
+an orphan. Oh! what should I be without mamma? And Plantagenet, poor
+Plantagenet! he has no mother, no father.' Venetia added, with a
+faltering voice: 'I can sympathise with him in some degree; I, I, I
+know, I feel the misfortune, the misery;' her face became crimson, yet
+she could not restrain the irresistible words, 'the misery of never
+having known a father,' she added.
+
+There was a dead pause, a most solemn silence. In vain Venetia
+struggled to look calm and unconcerned; every instant she felt
+the blood mantling in her cheek with a more lively and spreading
+agitation. She dared not look up; it was not possible to utter a word
+to turn the conversation. She felt utterly confounded and absolutely
+mute. At length, Lady Annabel spoke. Her tone was severe and choking,
+very different to her usual silvery voice.
+
+'I am sorry that my daughter should feel so keenly the want of a
+parent's love,' said her ladyship.
+
+What would not Venetia have given for the power or speech! but
+it seemed to have deserted her for ever. There she sat mute and
+motionless, with her eyes fixed on the table, and with a burning
+cheek, as if she were conscious of having committed some act of shame,
+as if she had been detected in some base and degrading deed. Yet, what
+had she done? A daughter had delicately alluded to her grief at the
+loss of a parent, and expressed her keen sense of the deprivation.
+
+It was an autumnal afternoon: Doctor Masham looked at the sky, and,
+after a long pause, made an observation about the weather, and then
+requested permission to order his horses, as the evening came on
+apace, and he had some distance to ride. Lady Annabel rose; the
+Doctor, with a countenance unusually serious, offered her his arm; and
+Venetia followed them like a criminal. In a few minutes the horses
+appeared; Lady Annabel bid adieu to her friend in her usual kind tone,
+and with her usual sweet smile; and then, without noticing Venetia,
+instantly retired to her own chamber.
+
+And this was her mother; her mother who never before quitted her for
+an instant without some sign and symbol of affection, some playful
+word of love, a winning smile, a passing embrace, that seemed to
+acknowledge that the pang of even momentary separation could only be
+alleviated by this graceful homage to the heart. What had she done?
+Venetia was about to follow Lady Annabel, but she checked herself.
+Agony at having offended her mother, and, for the first time, was
+blended with a strange curiosity as to the cause, and some hesitating
+indignation at her treatment. Venetia remained anxiously awaiting
+the return of Lady Annabel; but her ladyship did not reappear. Every
+instant, the astonishment and the grief of Venetia increased. It was
+the first domestic difference that had occurred between them. It
+shocked her much. She thought of Plantagenet and Mrs. Cadurcis. There
+was a mortifying resemblance, however slight, between the respective
+situations of the two families. Venetia, too, had quarrelled with her
+mother; that mother who, for fourteen years, had only looked upon her
+with fondness and joy; who had been ever kind, without being ever
+weak, and had rendered her child happy by making her good; that mother
+whose beneficent wisdom had transformed duty into delight; that
+superior, yet gentle being, so indulgent yet so just, so gifted yet so
+condescending, who dedicated all her knowledge, and time, and care,
+and intellect to her daughter.
+
+Venetia threw herself upon a couch and wept. They were the first tears
+of unmixed pain that she had ever shed. It was said by the household
+of Venetia when a child, that she had never cried; not a single tear
+had ever sullied that sunny face. Surrounded by scenes of innocence,
+and images of happiness and content, Venetia smiled on a world that
+smiled on her, the radiant heroine of a golden age. She had, indeed,
+wept over the sorrows and the departure of Cadurcis; but those were
+soft showers of sympathy and affection sent from a warm heart, like
+drops from a summer sky. But now this grief was agony: her brow
+throbbed, her hand was clenched, her heart beat with tumultuous
+palpitation; the streaming torrent came scalding down her cheek like
+fire rather than tears, and instead of assuaging her emotion, seemed,
+on the contrary, to increase its fierce and fervid power.
+
+The sun had set, the red autumnal twilight had died away, the shadows
+of night were brooding over the halls of Cherbury. The moan of the
+rising wind might be distinctly heard, and ever and anon the branches
+of neighbouring trees swung with a sudden yet melancholy sound against
+the windows of the apartment, of which the curtains had remained
+undrawn. Venetia looked up; the room would have been in perfect
+darkness but for a glimmer which just indicated the site of the
+expiring fire, and an uncertain light, or rather modified darkness,
+that seemed the sky. Alone and desolate! Alone and desolate and
+unhappy! Alone and desolate and unhappy, and for the first time! Was
+it a sigh, or a groan, that issued from the stifling heart of Venetia
+Herbert? That child of innocence, that bright emanation of love and
+beauty, that airy creature of grace and gentleness, who had never said
+an unkind word or done an unkind thing in her whole career, but had
+glanced and glided through existence, scattering happiness and
+joy, and receiving the pleasure which she herself imparted, how
+overwhelming was her first struggle with that dark stranger, Sorrow!
+
+Some one entered the room; it was Mistress Pauncefort. She held a
+taper in her hand, and came tripping gingerly in, with a new cap
+streaming with ribands, and scarcely, as it were, condescending to
+execute the mission with which she was intrusted, which was no greater
+than fetching her lady's reticule. She glanced at the table, but it
+was not there; she turned up her nose at a chair or two, which she
+even condescended to propel a little with a saucy foot, as if the
+reticule might be hid under the hanging drapery, and then, unable to
+find the object of her search, Mistress Pauncefort settled herself
+before the glass, elevating the taper above her head, that she might
+observe what indeed she had been examining the whole day, the effect
+of her new cap. With a complacent simper, Mistress Pauncefort then
+turned from pleasure to business, and, approaching the couch, gave
+a faint shriek, half genuine, half affected, as she recognised the
+recumbent form of her young mistress. 'Well to be sure,' exclaimed
+Mistress Pauncefort, 'was the like ever seen! Miss Venetia, as I live!
+La! Miss Venetia, what can be the matter? I declare I am all of a
+palpitation.'
+
+Venetia, affecting composure, said she was rather unwell; that she
+had a headache, and, rising, murmured that she would go to bed. 'A
+headache!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, 'I hope no worse, for there
+is my lady, and she is as out of sorts as possible. She has a headache
+too; and when I shut the door just now, I am sure as quiet as a lamb,
+she told me not to make so much noise when I left the room. "Noise!"
+says I; "why really, my lady, I don't pretend to be a spirit; but if
+it comes to noise--" "Never answer me, Pauncefort," says my lady. "No,
+my lady," says I, "I never do, and, I am sure, when I have a headache
+myself, I don't like to be answered." But, to be sure, if you have a
+headache, and my lady has a headache too, I only hope we have not got
+the epidemy. I vow, Miss Venetia, that your eyes are as red as if you
+had been running against the wind. Well, to be sure, if you have not
+been crying! I must go and tell my lady immediately.'
+
+'Light me to my room,' said Venetia; 'I will not disturb my mother, as
+she is unwell.'
+
+Venetia rose, and Mistress Pauncefort followed her to her chamber, and
+lit her candles. Venetia desired her not to remain; and when she had
+quitted the chamber, Venetia threw herself in her chair and sighed.
+
+To sleep, it was impossible; it seemed to Venetia that she could never
+rest again. She wept no more, but her distress was very great. She
+felt it impossible to exist through the night without being reconciled
+to her mother; but she refrained from going to her room, from the fear
+of again meeting her troublesome attendant. She resolved, therefore,
+to wait until she heard Mistress Pauncefort retire for the night, and
+she listened with restless anxiety for the sign of her departure in
+the sound of her footsteps along the vestibule on which the doors of
+Lady Annabel's and her daughter's apartments opened.
+
+An hour elapsed, and at length the sound was heard. Convinced that
+Pauncefort had now quitted her mother for the night, Venetia ventured
+forth, and stopping before the door of her mother's room, she knocked
+gently. There was no reply, and in a few minutes Venetia knocked
+again, and rather louder. Still no answer. 'Mamma,' said Venetia, in a
+faltering tone, but no sound replied. Venetia then tried the door,
+and found it fastened. Then she gave up the effort in despair, and
+retreating to her own chamber, she threw herself on her bed, and wept
+bitterly.
+
+Some time elapsed before she looked up again; the candles were flaring
+in their sockets. It was a wild windy night; Venetia rose, and
+withdrew the curtain of her window. The black clouds were scudding
+along the sky, revealing, in their occasional but transient rifts,
+some glimpses of the moon, that seemed unusually bright, or of a star
+that trembled with supernatural brilliancy. She stood a while gazing
+on the outward scene that harmonised with her own internal agitation:
+her grief was like the storm, her love like the light of that bright
+moon and star. There came over her a desire to see her mother, which
+she felt irresistible; she was resolved that no difficulty, no
+impediment, should prevent her instantly from throwing herself on her
+bosom. It seemed to her that her brain would burn, that this awful
+night could never end without such an interview. She opened her door,
+went forth again into the vestibule, and approached with a nervous but
+desperate step her mother's chamber. To her astonishment the door was
+ajar, but there was a light within. With trembling step and downcast
+eyes, Venetia entered the chamber, scarcely daring to advance, or to
+look up.
+
+'Mother,' she said, but no one answered; she heard the tick of the
+clock; it was the only sound. 'Mother,' she repeated, and she dared to
+look up, but the bed was empty. There was no mother. Lady Annabel was
+not in the room. Following an irresistible impulse, Venetia knelt by
+the side of her mother's bed and prayed. She addressed, in audible and
+agitated tones, that Almighty and Beneficent Being of whom she was
+so faithful and pure a follower. With sanctified simplicity, she
+communicated to her Creator and her Saviour all her distress, all her
+sorrow, all the agony of her perplexed and wounded spirit. If she had
+sinned, she prayed for forgiveness, and declared in solitude, to One
+whom she could not deceive, how unintentional was the trespass; if she
+were only misapprehended, she supplicated for comfort and consolation,
+for support under the heaviest visitation she had yet experienced, the
+displeasure of that earthly parent whom she revered only second to her
+heavenly Father.
+
+'For thou art my Father,' said Venetia, 'I have no other father
+but thee, O God! Forgive me, then, my heavenly parent, if in my
+wilfulness, if in my thoughtless and sinful blindness, I have sighed
+for a father on earth, as well as in heaven! Great have thy mercies
+been to me, O God! in a mother's love. Turn, then, again to me the
+heart of that mother whom I have offended! Let her look upon her child
+as before; let her continue to me a double parent, and let me pay to
+her the duty and the devotion that might otherwise have been divided!'
+
+'Amen!' said a sweet and solemn voice; and Venetia was clasped in her
+mother's arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+If the love of Lady Annabel for her child were capable of increase, it
+might have been believed that it absolutely became more profound and
+ardent after that short-lived but painful estrangement which we have
+related in the last chapter. With all Lady Annabel's fascinating
+qualities and noble virtues, a fine observer of human nature enjoying
+opportunities of intimately studying her character, might have
+suspected that an occasion only was wanted to display or develop in
+that lady's conduct no trifling evidence of a haughty, proud, and even
+inexorable spirit. Circumstanced as she was at Cherbury, with no one
+capable or desirous of disputing her will, the more gracious and
+exalted qualities of her nature were alone apparent. Entertaining a
+severe, even a sublime sense of the paramount claims of duty in all
+conditions and circumstances of life, her own conduct afforded an
+invariable and consistent example of her tenet; from those around her
+she required little, and that was cheerfully granted; while, on the
+other hand, her more eminent situation alike multiplied her own
+obligations and enabled her to fulfil them; she appeared, therefore,
+to pass her life in conferring happiness and in receiving gratitude.
+Strictly religious, of immaculate reputation, rigidly just,
+systematically charitable, dignified in her manners, yet more than
+courteous to her inferiors, and gifted at the same time with great
+self-control and great decision, she was looked up to by all within
+her sphere with a sentiment of affectionate veneration. Perhaps there
+was only one person within her little world who, both by disposition
+and relative situation, was qualified in any way to question her
+undoubted sway, or to cross by independence of opinion the tenour of
+the discipline she had established, and this was her child. Venetia,
+with one of the most affectionate and benevolent natures in the world,
+was gifted with a shrewd, inquiring mind, and a restless imagination.
+She was capable of forming her own opinions, and had both reason and
+feeling at command to gauge their worth. But to gain an influence over
+this child had been the sole object of Lady Annabel's life, and she
+had hitherto met that success which usually awaits in this world the
+strong purpose of a determined spirit. Lady Annabel herself was far
+too acute a person not to have detected early in life the talents of
+her child, and she was proud of them. She had cultivated them with
+exemplary devotion and with admirable profit. But Lady Annabel had not
+less discovered that, in the ardent and susceptible temperament of
+Venetia, means were offered by which the heart might be trained not
+only to cope with but overpower the intellect. With great powers of
+pleasing, beauty, accomplishments, a sweet voice, a soft manner, a
+sympathetic heart, Lady Annabel was qualified to charm the world; she
+had contrived to fascinate her daughter. She had inspired Venetia with
+the most romantic attachment for her: such as rather subsists
+between two female friends of the same age and hearts, than between
+individuals in the relative situations which they bore to each other.
+Yet while Venetia thus loved her mother, she could not but also
+respect and revere the superior being whose knowledge was her guide on
+all subjects, and whose various accomplishments deprived her secluded
+education of all its disadvantages; and when she felt that one so
+gifted had devoted her life to the benefit of her child, and that
+this beautiful and peerless lady had no other ambition but to be
+her guardian and attendant spirit; gratitude, fervent and profound,
+mingled with admiring reverence and passionate affection, and together
+formed a spell that encircled the mind of Venetia with talismanic
+sway.
+
+Under the despotic influence of these enchanted feelings, Venetia
+was fast growing into womanhood, without a single cloud having ever
+disturbed or sullied the pure and splendid heaven of her domestic
+life. Suddenly the horizon had become clouded, a storm had gathered
+and burst, and an eclipse could scarcely have occasioned more terror
+to the untutored roamer of the wilderness, than this unexpected
+catastrophe to one so inexperienced in the power of the passions as
+our heroine. Her heaven was again serene; but such was the effect
+of this ebullition on her character, so keen was her dread of again
+encountering the agony of another misunderstanding with her mother,
+that she recoiled with trembling from that subject which had so often
+and so deeply engaged her secret thoughts; and the idea of her father,
+associated as it now was with pain, mortification, and misery, never
+rose to her imagination but instantly to be shunned as some unhallowed
+image, of which the bitter contemplation was fraught with not less
+disastrous consequences than the denounced idolatry of the holy
+people.
+
+Whatever, therefore, might be the secret reasons which impelled Lady
+Annabel to shroud the memory of the lost parent of her child in such
+inviolate gloom, it is certain that the hitherto restless though
+concealed curiosity of Venetia upon the subject, the rash
+demonstration to which it led, and the consequence of her boldness,
+instead of threatening to destroy in an instant the deep and matured
+system of her mother, had, on the whole, greatly contributed to the
+fulfilment of the very purpose for which Lady Annabel had so long
+laboured. That lady spared no pains in following up the advantage
+which her acuteness and knowledge of her daughter's character assured
+her that she had secured. She hovered round her child more like an
+enamoured lover than a fond mother; she hung upon her looks, she read
+her thoughts, she anticipated every want and wish; her dulcet tones
+seemed even sweeter than before; her soft and elegant manners even
+more tender and refined. Though even in her childhood Lady Annabel had
+rather guided than commanded Venetia; now she rather consulted than
+guided her. She seized advantage of the advanced character and mature
+appearance of Venetia to treat her as a woman rather than a child, and
+as a friend rather than a daughter. Venetia yielded herself up to this
+flattering and fascinating condescension. Her love for her mother
+amounted to passion; she had no other earthly object or desire but to
+pass her entire life in her sole and sweet society; she could conceive
+no sympathy deeper or more delightful; the only unhappiness she
+had ever known had been occasioned by a moment trenching upon its
+exclusive privilege; Venetia could not picture to herself that such a
+pure and entrancing existence could ever experience a change.
+
+And this mother, this devoted yet mysterious mother, jealous of her
+child's regret for a father that she had lost, and whom she had never
+known! shall we ever penetrate the secret of her heart?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+It was in the enjoyment of these exquisite feelings that a year,
+and more than another year, elapsed at our lone hall of Cherbury.
+Happiness and content seemed at least the blessed destiny of the
+Herberts. Venetia grew in years, and grace, and loveliness; each day
+apparently more her mother's joy, and each day bound to that mother
+by, if possible, more ardent love. She had never again experienced
+those uneasy thoughts which at times had haunted her from her infancy;
+separated from her mother, indeed, scarcely for an hour together, she
+had no time to muse. Her studies each day becoming more various and
+interesting, and pursued with so gifted and charming a companion,
+entirely engrossed her; even the exercise that was her relaxation was
+participated by Lady Annabel; and the mother and daughter, bounding
+together on their steeds, were fanned by the same breeze, and
+freshened by the same graceful and healthy exertion.
+
+One day the post, that seldom arrived at Cherbury, brought a letter to
+Lady Annabel, the perusal of which evidently greatly agitated her.
+Her countenance changed as her eye glanced over the pages; her hand
+trembled as she held it. But she made no remark; and succeeded in
+subduing her emotion so quickly that Venetia, although she watched
+her mother with anxiety, did not feel justified in interfering with
+inquiring sympathy. But while Lady Annabel resumed her usual calm
+demeanour, she relapsed into unaccustomed silence, and, soon rising
+from the breakfast table, moved to the window, and continued
+apparently gazing on the garden, with her face averted from Venetia
+for some time. At length she turned to her, and said, 'I think,
+Venetia, of calling on the Doctor to-day; there is business on which I
+wish to consult him, but I will not trouble you, dearest, to accompany
+me. I must take the carriage, and it is a long and tiring drive.'
+
+There was a tone of decision even in the slightest observations of
+Lady Annabel, which, however sweet might be the voice in which they
+were uttered, scarcely encouraged their propriety to be canvassed. Now
+Venetia was far from desirous of being separated from her mother this
+morning. It was not a vain and idle curiosity, prompted by the receipt
+of the letter and its consequent effects, both in the emotion of her
+mother and the visit which it had rendered necessary, that swayed her
+breast. The native dignity of a well-disciplined mind exempted Venetia
+from such feminine weakness. But some consideration might be due to
+the quick sympathy of an affectionate spirit that had witnessed, with
+corresponding feeling, the disturbance of the being to whom she was
+devoted. Why this occasional and painful mystery that ever and anon
+clouded the heaven of their love, and flung a frigid shadow over the
+path of a sunshiny life? Why was not Venetia to share the sorrow or
+the care of her only friend, as well as participate in her joy and her
+content? There were other claims, too, to this confidence, besides
+those of the heart. Lady Annabel was not merely her only friend; she
+was her parent, her only parent, almost, for aught she had ever heard
+or learnt, her only relative. For her mother's family, though she was
+aware of their existence by the freedom with which Lady Annabel ever
+mentioned them, and though Venetia was conscious that an occasional
+correspondence was maintained between them and Cherbury, occupied no
+station in Venetia's heart, scarcely in her memory. That noble family
+were nullities to her; far distant, apparently estranged from her
+hearth, except in form she had never seen them; they were associated
+in her recollection with none of the sweet ties of kindred. Her
+grandfather was dead without her ever having received his blessing;
+his successor, her uncle, was an ambassador, long absent from his
+country; her only aunt married to a soldier, and established at a
+foreign station. Venetia envied Dr. Masham the confidence which was
+extended to him; it seemed to her, even leaving out of sight the
+intimate feelings that subsisted between her and her mother, that the
+claims of blood to this confidence were at least as strong as those of
+friendship. But Venetia stifled these emotions; she parted from her
+mother with a kind, yet somewhat mournful expression. Lady Annabel
+might have read a slight sentiment of affectionate reproach in the
+demeanour of her daughter when she bade her farewell. Whatever might
+be the consciousness of the mother, she was successful in concealing
+her impression. Very kind, but calm and inscrutable, Lady Annabel,
+having given directions for postponing the dinner-hour, embraced her
+child and entered the chariot.
+
+Venetia, from the terrace, watched her mother's progress through the
+park. After gazing for some minutes, a tear stole down her cheek. She
+started, as if surprised at her own emotion. And now the carriage
+was out of sight, and Venetia would have recurred to some of those
+resources which were ever at hand for the employment or amusement of
+her secluded life. But the favourite volume ceased to interest this
+morning, and almost fell from her hand. She tried her spinet, but her
+ear seemed to have lost its music; she looked at her easel, but the
+cunning had fled from her touch.
+
+Restless and disquieted, she knew not why, Venetia went forth again
+into the garden. All nature smiled around her; the flitting birds were
+throwing their soft shadows over the sunny lawns, and rustling amid
+the blossoms of the variegated groves. The golden wreaths of the
+laburnum and the silver knots of the chestnut streamed and glittered
+around; the bees were as busy as the birds, and the whole scene was
+suffused and penetrated with brilliancy and odour. It still was
+spring, and yet the gorgeous approach of summer, like the advancing
+procession of some triumphant king, might almost be detected amid the
+lingering freshness of the year; a lively and yet magnificent period,
+blending, as it were, Attic grace with Roman splendour; a time when
+hope and fruition for once meet, when existence is most full of
+delight, alike delicate and voluptuous, and when the human frame is
+most sensible to the gaiety and grandeur of nature.
+
+And why was not the spirit of the beautiful and innocent Venetia as
+bright as the surrounding scene? There are moods of mind that baffle
+analysis, that arise from a mysterious sympathy we cannot penetrate.
+At this moment the idea of her father irresistibly recurred to the
+imagination of Venetia. She could not withstand the conviction that
+the receipt of the mysterious letter and her mother's agitation were
+by some inexplicable connexion linked with that forbidden subject.
+Strange incidents of her life flitted across her memory: her mother
+weeping on the day they visited Marringhurst; the mysterious chambers;
+the nocturnal visit of Lady Annabel that Cadurcis had witnessed; her
+unexpected absence from her apartment when Venetia, in her despair,
+had visited her some months ago. What was the secret that enveloped
+her existence? Alone, which was unusual; dispirited, she knew not
+why; and brooding over thoughts which haunted her like evil spirits,
+Venetia at length yielded to a degree of nervous excitement which
+amazed her. She looked up to the uninhabited wing of the mansion with
+an almost fierce desire to penetrate its mysteries. It seemed to her
+that a strange voice came whispering on the breeze, urging her to the
+fulfilment of a mystical mission. With a vague, yet wild, purpose she
+entered the house, and took her way to her mother's chamber. Mistress
+Pauncefort was there. Venetia endeavoured to assume her accustomed
+serenity. The waiting-woman bustled about, arranging the toilet-table,
+which had been for a moment discomposed, putting away a cap, folding
+up a shawl, and indulging in a multitude of inane observations which
+little harmonised with the high-strung tension of Venetia's mind.
+Mistress Pauncefort opened a casket with a spring lock, in which she
+placed some trinkets of her mistress. Venetia stood by her in silence;
+her eye, vacant and wandering, beheld the interior of the casket.
+There must have been something in it, the sight of which greatly
+agitated her, for Venetia turned pale, and in a moment left the
+chamber and retired to her own room.
+
+She locked her door, threw herself in a chair; almost gasping for
+breath, she covered her face with her hands. It was some minutes
+before she recovered comparative composure; she rose and looked in
+the mirror; her face was quite white, but her eyes glittering with
+excitement. She walked up and down her room with a troubled step, and
+a scarlet flush alternately returned to and retired from her changing
+cheek. Then she leaned against a cabinet in thought. She was disturbed
+from her musings by the sound of Pauncefort's step along the
+vestibule, as she quitted her mother's chamber. In a few minutes
+Venetia herself stepped forth into the vestibule and listened. All was
+silent. The golden morning had summoned the whole household to its
+enjoyment. Not a voice, not a domestic sound, broke the complete
+stillness. Venetia again repaired to the apartment of Lady Annabel.
+Her step was light, but agitated; it seemed that she scarcely dared
+to breathe. She opened the door, rushed to the cabinet, pressed the
+spring lock, caught at something that it contained, and hurried again
+to her own chamber.
+
+And what is this prize that the trembling Venetia holds almost
+convulsively in her grasp, apparently without daring even to examine
+it? Is this the serene and light-hearted girl, whose face was like
+the cloudless splendour of a sunny day? Why is she so pallid and
+perturbed? What strong impulse fills her frame? She clutches in her
+hand a key!
+
+On that tempestuous night of passionate sorrow which succeeded the
+first misunderstanding between Venetia and her mother, when the voice
+of Lady Annabel had suddenly blended with that of her kneeling
+child, and had ratified with her devotional concurrence her wailing
+supplications; even at the moment when Venetia, in a rapture of love
+and duty, felt herself pressed to her mother's reconciled heart, it
+had not escaped her that Lady Annabel held in her hand a key; and
+though the feelings which that night had so forcibly developed, and
+which the subsequent conduct of Lady Annabel had so carefully and
+skilfully cherished, had impelled Venetia to banish and erase from her
+thought and memory all the associations which that spectacle, however
+slight, was calculated to awaken, still, in her present mood, the
+unexpected vision of the same instrument, identical she could not
+doubt, had triumphed in an instant over all the long discipline of
+her mind and conduct, in an instant had baffled and dispersed her
+self-control, and been hailed as the providential means by which she
+might at length penetrate that mystery which she now felt no longer
+supportable.
+
+The clock of the belfry of Cherbury at this moment struck, and Venetia
+instantly sprang from her seat. It reminded her of the preciousness
+of the present morning. Her mother was indeed absent, but her mother
+would return. Before that event a great fulfilment was to occur.
+Venetia, still grasping the key, as if it were the talisman of her
+existence, looked up to Heaven as if she required for her allotted
+task an immediate and special protection; her lips seemed to move, and
+then she again quitted her apartment. As she passed through an oriel
+in her way towards the gallery, she observed Pauncefort in the avenue
+of the park, moving in the direction of the keeper's lodge. This
+emboldened her. With a hurried step she advanced along the gallery,
+and at length stood before the long-sealed door that had so often
+excited her strange curiosity. Once she looked around; but no one was
+near, not a sound was heard. With a faltering hand she touched the
+lock; but her powers deserted her: for a minute she believed that the
+key, after all, would not solve the mystery. And yet the difficulty
+arose only from her own agitation. She rallied her courage; once more
+she made the trial; the key fitted with completeness, and the
+lock opened with ease, and Venetia found herself in a small and
+scantily-furnished ante-chamber. Closing the door with noiseless care,
+Venetia stood trembling in the mysterious chamber, where apparently
+there was nothing to excite wonder. The chamber into which the
+ante-room opened was still closed, and it was some minutes before the
+adventurous daughter of Lady Annabel could summon courage for the
+enterprise which awaited her.
+
+The door yielded without an effort. Venetia stepped into a spacious
+and lofty chamber. For a moment she paused almost upon the threshold,
+and looked around her with a vague and misty vision. Anon she
+distinguished something of the character of the apartment. In the
+recess of a large oriel window that looked upon the park, and of which
+the blinds were nearly drawn, was an old-fashioned yet sumptuous
+toilet-table of considerable size, arranged as if for use. Opposite
+this window, in a corresponding recess, was what might be deemed a
+bridal bed, its furniture being of white satin richly embroidered; the
+curtains half closed; and suspended from the canopy was a wreath of
+roses that had once emulated, or rather excelled, the lustrous purity
+of the hangings, but now were wan and withered. The centre of the
+inlaid and polished floor of the apartment was covered with a Tournay
+carpet of brilliant yet tasteful decoration. An old cabinet of
+fanciful workmanship, some chairs of ebony, and some girandoles of
+silver completed the furniture of the room, save that at its extreme
+end, exactly opposite to the door by which Venetia entered, covered
+with a curtain of green velvet, was what she concluded must be a
+picture.
+
+An awful stillness pervaded the apartment: Venetia herself, with
+a face paler even than the hangings of the mysterious bed, stood
+motionless with suppressed breath, gazing on the distant curtain with
+a painful glance of agitated fascination. At length, summoning her
+energies as if for the achievement of some terrible yet inevitable
+enterprise, she crossed the room, and averting her face, and closing
+her eyes in a paroxysm of nervous excitement, she stretched forth her
+arm, and with a rapid motion withdrew the curtain. The harsh sound of
+the brass rings drawn quickly over the rod, the only noise that had
+yet met her ear in this mystical chamber, made her start and tremble.
+She looked up, she beheld, in a broad and massy frame, the full-length
+portrait of a man.
+
+A man in the very spring of sunny youth, and of radiant beauty. Above
+the middle height, yet with a form that displayed exquisite grace, he
+was habited in a green tunic that enveloped his figure to advantage,
+and became the scene in which he was placed: a park, with a castle in
+the distance; while a groom at hand held a noble steed, that seemed
+impatient for the chase. The countenance of its intended rider met
+fully the gaze of the spectator. It was a countenance of singular
+loveliness and power. The lips and the moulding of the chin resembled
+the eager and impassioned tenderness of the shape of Antinous; but
+instead of the effeminate sullenness of the eye, and the narrow
+smoothness of the forehead, shone an expression of profound and
+piercing thought. On each side of the clear and open brow descended,
+even to the shoulders, the clustering locks of golden hair; while the
+eyes, large and yet deep, beamed with a spiritual energy, and shone
+like two wells of crystalline water that reflect the all-beholding
+heavens.
+
+Now when Venetia Herbert beheld this countenance a change came over
+her. It seemed that when her eyes met the eyes of the portrait, some
+mutual interchange of sympathy occurred between them. She freed
+herself in an instant from the apprehension and timidity that before
+oppressed her. Whatever might ensue, a vague conviction of having
+achieved a great object pervaded, as it were, her being. Some great
+end, vast though indefinite, had been fulfilled. Abstract and
+fearless, she gazed upon the dazzling visage with a prophetic heart.
+Her soul was in a tumult, oppressed with thick-coming fancies too big
+for words, panting for expression. There was a word which must be
+spoken: it trembled on her convulsive lip, and would not sound. She
+looked around her with an eye glittering with unnatural fire, as if to
+supplicate some invisible and hovering spirit to her rescue, or that
+some floating and angelic chorus might warble the thrilling word whose
+expression seemed absolutely necessary to her existence. Her cheek
+is flushed, her eye wild and tremulous, the broad blue veins of her
+immaculate brow quivering and distended; her waving hair falls back
+over her forehead, and rustles like a wood before the storm. She seems
+a priestess in the convulsive throes of inspiration, and about to
+breathe the oracle. The picture, as we have mentioned, was hung in
+a broad and massy frame. In the centre of its base was worked an
+escutcheon, and beneath the shield this inscription:
+
+    MARMION HERBERT, AET. XX.
+
+Yet there needed not these letters to guide the agitated spirit of
+Venetia, for, before her eye had reached them, the word was spoken;
+and falling on her knees before the portrait, the daughter of Lady
+Annabel had exclaimed, 'My father!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The daughter still kneels before the form of the father, of whom she
+had heard for the first time in her life. He is at length discovered.
+It was, then, an irresistible destiny that, after the wild musings and
+baffled aspirations of so many years, had guided her to this chamber.
+She is the child of Marmion Herbert; she beholds her lost parent. That
+being of supernatural beauty, on whom she gazes with a look of blended
+reverence and love, is her father. What a revelation! Its reality
+exceeded the wildest dreams of her romance; her brightest visions of
+grace and loveliness and genius seemed personified in this form; the
+form of one to whom she was bound by the strongest of all earthly
+ties, of one on whose heart she had a claim second only to that of the
+being by whose lips his name was never mentioned. Was he, then, no
+more? Ah! could she doubt that bitterest calamity? Ah! was it, was
+it any longer a marvel, that one who had lived in the light of those
+seraphic eyes, and had watched them until their terrestrial splendour
+had been for ever extinguished, should shrink from the converse that
+could remind her of the catastrophe of all her earthly hopes! This
+chamber, then, was the temple of her mother's woe, the tomb of her
+baffled affections and bleeding heart. No wonder that Lady Annabel,
+the desolate Lady Annabel, that almost the same spring must have
+witnessed the most favoured and the most disconsolate of women, should
+have fled from the world that had awarded her at the same time a lot
+so dazzling and so full of despair. Venetia felt that the existence
+of her mother's child, her own fragile being, could have been that
+mother's sole link to life. The heart of the young widow of Marmion
+Herbert must have broken but for Venetia; and the consciousness of
+that remaining tie, and the duties that it involved, could alone have
+sustained the victim under a lot of such unparalleled bitterness. The
+tears streamed down her cheek as she thought of her mother's misery,
+and her mother's gentle love; the misery that she had been so cautious
+her child should never share; the vigilant affection that, with all
+her own hopes blighted, had still laboured to compensate to her
+child for a deprivation the fulness of which Venetia could only now
+comprehend.
+
+When, where, why did he die? Oh that she might talk of him to her
+mother for ever! It seemed that life might pass away in listening to
+his praises. Marmion Herbert! and who was Marmion Herbert? Young as he
+was, command and genius, the pride of noble passions, all the glory of
+a creative mind, seemed stamped upon his brow. With all his marvellous
+beauty, he seemed a being born for greatness. Dead! in the very burst
+of his spring, a spring so sweet and splendid; could he be dead? Why,
+then, was he ever born? It seemed to her that he could not be dead;
+there was an animated look about the form, that seemed as if it could
+not die without leaving mankind a prodigal legacy of fame.
+
+Venetia turned and looked upon her parents' bridal bed. Now that
+she had discovered her father's portrait, every article in the room
+interested her, for her imagination connected everything with him. She
+touched the wreath of withered roses, and one instantly broke away
+from the circle, and fell; she knelt down, and gathered up the
+scattered leaves, and placed them in her bosom. She approached the
+table in the oriel: in its centre was a volume, on which reposed a
+dagger of curious workmanship; the volume bound in velvet, and the
+word 'ANNABEL' embroidered upon it in gold. Venetia unclasped it. The
+volume was his; in a fly-leaf were written these words:
+
+    'TO THE LADY OF MY LOVE, FROM HER MARMION HERBERT.'
+
+With a fluttering heart, yet sparkling eye, Venetia sank into a chair,
+which was placed before the table, with all her soul concentred in the
+contents of this volume. Leaning on her right hand, which shaded her
+agitated brow, she turned a page of the volume with a trembling hand.
+It contained a sonnet, delineating the feelings of a lover at the
+first sight of his beloved, a being to him yet unknown. Venetia
+perused with breathless interest the graceful and passionate picture
+of her mother's beauty. A series of similar compositions detailed the
+history of the poet's heart, and all the thrilling adventures of his
+enchanted life. Not an incident, not a word, not a glance, in that
+spell-bound prime of existence, that was not commemorated by his lyre
+in strains as sweet and as witching! Now he poured forth his passion;
+now his doubts; now his hopes; now came the glowing hour when he was
+first assured of his felicity; the next page celebrated her visit to
+the castle of his fathers; and another led her to the altar.
+
+With a flushed cheek and an excited eye, Venetia had rapidly pored
+over these ardent annals of the heart from whose blood she had sprung.
+She turns the page; she starts; the colour deserts her countenance;
+a mist glides over her vision; she clasps her hands with convulsive
+energy; she sinks back in her chair. In a few moments she extends one
+hand, as if fearful again to touch the book that had excited so much
+emotion, raises herself in her seat, looks around her with a vacant
+and perplexed gaze, apparently succeeds in collecting herself, and
+then seizes, with an eager grasp, the volume, and throwing herself on
+her, knees before the chair, her long locks hanging on each side over
+a cheek crimson as the sunset, loses her whole soul in the lines which
+the next page reveals.
+
+  ON THE NIGHT OUR DAUGHTER WAS BORN.
+
+  I.
+
+  Within our heaven of love, the new-born star
+  We long devoutly watched, like shepherd kings,
+  Steals into light, and, floating from afar,
+  Methinks some bright transcendent seraph sings,
+  Waving with flashing light her radiant wings,
+  Immortal welcome to the stranger fair:
+  To us a child is born. With transport clings
+  The mother to the babe she sighed to bear;
+  Of all our treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+  II.
+
+  My daughter! can it be a daughter now
+  Shall greet my being with her infant smile?
+  And shall I press that fair and taintless brow
+  With my fond lips, and tempt, with many a wile
+  Of playful love, those features to beguile
+  A parent with their mirth? In the wild sea
+  Of this dark life, behold a little isle
+  Rises amid the waters, bright and free,
+  A haven for my hopes of fond security!
+
+  III.
+
+  And thou shalt bear a name my line has loved,
+  And their fair daughters owned for many an age,
+  Since first our fiery blood a wanderer roved,
+  And made in sunnier lands his pilgrimage,
+  Where proud defiance with the waters wage
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard and honoured by the sage!
+  My own VENETIA now shall gild our bowers,
+  And with her spell enchain our life's enchanted hours!
+
+  IV.
+
+  Oh! if the blessing of a father's heart
+  Hath aught of sacred in its deep-breath'd prayer,
+  Skilled to thy gentle being to impart,
+  As thy bright form itself, a fate as fair;
+  On thee I breathe that blessing! Let me share,
+  O God! her joys; and if the dark behest
+  Of woe resistless, and avoidless care,
+  Hath, not gone forth, oh! spare this gentle guest.
+  And wreak thy needful wrath on my resigned breast!
+
+An hour elapsed, and Venetia did not move. Over and over again she
+conned the only address from the lips of her father that had ever
+reached her ear. A strange inspiration seconded the exertion of an
+exercised memory. The duty was fulfilled, the task completed. Then
+a sound was heard without. The thought that her mother had returned
+occurred to her; she looked up, the big tears streaming down her face;
+she listened, like a young hind just roused by the still-distant
+huntsman, quivering and wild: she listened, and she sprang up,
+replaced the volume, arranged the chair, cast one long, lingering,
+feverish glance at the portrait, skimmed through the room, hesitated
+one moment in the ante-chamber; opened, as all was silent, the no
+longer mysterious door, turned the noiseless lock, tripped lightly
+along the vestibule; glided into her mother's empty apartment,
+reposited the key that had opened so many wonders in the casket; and,
+then, having hurried to her own chamber, threw herself on her bed in a
+paroxysm of contending emotions, that left her no power of pondering
+over the strange discovery that had already given a new colour to her
+existence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Her mother had not returned; it was a false alarm; but Venetia could
+not quit her bed. There she remained, repeating to herself her
+father's verses. Then one thought alone filled her being. Was he dead?
+Was this fond father, who had breathed this fervent blessing over her
+birth, and invoked on his own head all the woe and misfortunes of her
+destiny, was he, indeed, no more? How swiftly must the arrow have sped
+after he received the announcement that a child was given to him,
+
+  Of all his treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+He could scarcely have embraced her ere the great Being, to whom he
+had offered his prayer, summoned him to his presence! Of that father
+she had not the slightest recollection; she had ascertained that she
+had reached Cherbury a child, even in arms, and she knew that her
+father had never lived under the roof. What an awful bereavement! Was
+it wonderful that her mother was inconsolable? Was it wonderful that
+she could not endure even his name to be mentioned in her presence;
+that not the slightest allusion to his existence could be tolerated by
+a wife who had been united to such a peerless being, only to behold
+him torn away from her embraces? Oh! could he, indeed, be dead? That
+inspired countenance that seemed immortal, had it in a moment been
+dimmed? and all the symmetry of that matchless form, had it indeed
+been long mouldering in the dust? Why should she doubt it? Ah! why,
+indeed? How could she doubt it? Why, ever and anon, amid the tumult of
+her excited mind, came there an unearthly whisper to her ear, mocking
+her with the belief that he still lived? But he was dead; he must be
+dead; and why did she live? Could she survive what she had seen and
+learnt this day? Did she wish to survive it? But her mother, her
+mother with all her sealed-up sorrows, had survived him. Why? For her
+sake; for her child; for 'his own Venetia!' His own!
+
+She clenched her feverish hand, her temples beat with violent
+palpitations, her brow was burning hot. Time flew on, and every minute
+Venetia was more sensible of the impossibility of rising to welcome
+her mother. That mother at length returned; Venetia could not again
+mistake the wheels of the returning carriage. Some minutes passed, and
+there was a knock at her door. With a choking voice Venetia bade them
+enter. It was Pauncefort.
+
+'Well, Miss,' she exclaimed, 'if you ayn't here, after all! I told my
+lady, "My lady," says I, "I am sure Miss Venetia must be in the park,
+for I saw her go out myself, and I have never seen her come home."
+And, after all, you are here. My lady has come home, you know, Miss,
+and has been inquiring for you several times.'
+
+'Tell mamma that I am not very well,' said Venetia, in a low voice,
+'and that I have been obliged to lie down.'
+
+'Not well, Miss,' exclaimed Pauncefort; 'and what can be the matter
+with you? I am afraid you have walked too much; overdone it, I dare
+say; or, mayhap, you have caught cold; it is an easterly wind: for I
+was saying to John this morning, "John," says I, "if Miss Venetia will
+walk about with only a handkerchief tied round her head, why, what can
+be expected?"'
+
+'I have only a headache, a very bad headache, Pauncefort; I wish to be
+quiet,' said Venetia.
+
+Pauncefort left the room accordingly, and straightway proceeded to
+Lady Annabel, when she communicated the information that Miss Venetia
+was in the house, after all, though she had never seen her return,
+and that she was lying down because she had a very bad headache. Lady
+Annabel, of course, did not lose a moment in visiting her darling. She
+entered the room softly, so softly that she was not heard; Venetia was
+lying on her bed, with her back to the door. Lady Annabel stood by her
+bedside for some moments unnoticed. At length Venetia heaved a
+deep sigh. Her mother then said in a soft voice, 'Are you in pain,
+darling?'
+
+'Is that mamma?' said Venetia, turning with quickness.
+
+'You are ill, dear,' said Lady Annabel, taking her hand. 'Your hand is
+hot; you are feverish. How long has my Venetia felt ill?'
+
+Venetia could not answer; she did nothing but sigh. Her strange manner
+excited her mother's wonder. Lady Annabel sat by the bedside, still
+holding her daughter's hand in hers, watching her with a glance of
+great anxiety.
+
+'Answer me, my love,' she repeated in a voice of tenderness. 'What do
+you feel?'
+
+'My head, my head,' murmured Venetia.
+
+Her mother pressed her own hand to her daughter's brow; it was very hot.
+'Does that pain you?' inquired Lady Annabel; but Venetia did not reply;
+her look was wild and abstracted. Her mother gently withdrew her hand,
+and then summoned Pauncefort, with whom she communicated without
+permitting her to enter the room.
+
+'Miss Herbert is very ill,' said Lady Annabel, pale, but in a firm
+tone. 'I am alarmed about her. She appears to me to have fever; send
+instantly to Southport for Mr. Hawkins; and let the messenger use
+and urge all possible expedition. Be in attendance in the vestibule,
+Pauncefort; I shall not quit her room, but she must be kept perfectly
+quiet.'
+
+Lady Annabel then drew her chair to the bedside of her daughter, and
+bathed her temples at intervals with rose-water; but none of these
+attentions apparently attracted the notice of the sufferer. She was,
+it would seem, utterly unconscious of all that was occurring. She now
+lay with her face turned towards her mother, but did not exchange even
+looks with her. She was restless, and occasionally she sighed deeply.
+
+Once, by way of experiment, Lady Annabel again addressed her, but
+Venetia gave no answer. Then the mother concluded what, indeed, had
+before attracted her suspicion, that Venetia's head was affected. But
+then, what was this strange, this sudden attack, which appeared to
+have prostrated her daughter's faculties in an instant? A few hours
+back, and Lady Annabel had parted from Venetia in all the glow of
+health and beauty. The season was most genial; her exercise had
+doubtless been moderate; as for her general health, so complete was
+her constitution, and so calm the tenour of her life, that Venetia
+had scarcely experienced in her whole career a single hour of
+indisposition. It was an anxious period of suspense until the medical
+attendant arrived from Southport. Fortunately he was one in whom, from
+reputation, Lady Annabel was disposed to place great trust; and his
+matured years, his thoughtful manner, and acute inquiries, confirmed
+her favourable opinion of him. All that Mr. Hawkins could say,
+however, was, that Miss Herbert had a great deal of fever, but the
+cause was concealed, and the suddenness of the attack perplexed him.
+He administered one of the usual remedies; and after an hour had
+elapsed, and no favourable change occurring, he blooded her. He
+quitted Cherbury, with the promise of returning late in the evening,
+having several patients whom he was obliged to visit.
+
+The night drew on; the chamber was now quite closed, but Lady Annabel
+never quitted it. She sat reading, removed from her daughter, that her
+presence might not disturb her, for Venetia seemed inclined to sleep.
+Suddenly Venetia spoke; but she said only one word, 'Father!'
+
+Lady Annabel started; her book nearly fell from her hand; she grew
+very pale. Quite breathless, she listened, and again Venetia spoke,
+and again called upon her father. Now, with a great effort, Lady
+Annabel stole on tiptoe to the bedside of her daughter. Venetia was
+lying on her back, her eyes were closed, her lips still as it were
+quivering with the strange word they had dared to pronounce. Again
+her voice sounded; she chanted, in an unearthly voice, verses. The
+perspiration stood in large drops on the pallid forehead of the mother
+as she listened. Still Venetia proceeded; and Lady Annabel, throwing
+herself on her knees, held up her hands to Heaven in an agony of
+astonishment, terror, and devotion.
+
+Now there was again silence; but her mother remained apparently buried
+in prayer. Again Venetia spoke; again she repeated the mysterious
+stanzas. With convulsive agony her mother listened to every fatal line
+that she unconsciously pronounced.
+
+The secret was then discovered. Yes! Venetia must have penetrated the
+long-closed chamber; all the labours of years had in a moment been
+subverted; Venetia had discovered her parent, and the effects of the
+discovery might, perhaps, be her death. Then it was that Lady Annabel,
+in the torture of her mind, poured forth her supplications that the
+life or the heart of her child might never be lost to her, 'Grant, O
+merciful God!' she exclaimed, 'that this sole hope of my being may be
+spared to me. Grant, if she be spared, that she may never desert her
+mother! And for him, of whom she has heard this day for the first
+time, let him be to her as if he were no more! May she never learn
+that he lives! May she never comprehend the secret agony of her
+mother's life! Save her, O God! save her from his fatal, his
+irresistible influence! May she remain pure and virtuous as she has
+yet lived! May she remain true to thee, and true to thy servant, who
+now bows before thee! Look down upon me at this moment with gracious
+mercy; turn to me my daughter's heart; and, if it be my dark doom to
+be in this world a widow, though a wife, add not to this bitterness
+that I shall prove a mother without a child!'
+
+At this moment the surgeon returned. It was absolutely necessary that
+Lady Annabel should compose herself. She exerted all that strength of
+character for which she was remarkable. From this moment she resolved,
+if her life were the forfeit, not to quit for an instant the bedside
+of Venetia until she was declared out of danger; and feeling conscious
+that if she once indulged her own feelings, she might herself soon
+be in a situation scarcely less hazardous than her daughter's, she
+controlled herself with a mighty effort. Calm as a statue, she
+received the medical attendant, who took the hand of the unconscious
+Venetia with apprehension too visibly impressed upon his grave
+countenance. As he took her hand, Venetia opened her eyes, stared at
+her mother and her attendant, and then immediately closed them.
+
+'She has slept?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'No,' said the surgeon, 'no: this is not sleep; it is a feverish
+trance that brings her no refreshment.' He took out his watch, and
+marked her pulse with great attention; then he placed his hand on her
+brow, and shook his head. 'These beautiful curls must come off,' he
+said. Lady Annabel glided to the table, and instantly brought the
+scissors, as if the delay of an instant might be fatal. The surgeon
+cut off those long golden locks. Venetia raised her hand to her head,
+and said, in a low voice, 'They are for my father.' Lady Annabel leant
+upon the surgeon's arm and shook.
+
+Now he led the mother to the window, and spoke in a hushed tone.
+
+'Is it possible that there is anything on your daughter's mind, Lady
+Annabel?' he inquired.
+
+The agitated mother looked at the inquirer, and then at her daughter;
+and then for a moment she raised her hand to her eyes; then she
+replied, in a low but firm voice, 'Yes.'
+
+'Your ladyship must judge whether you wish me to be acquainted with
+it,' said Mr. Hawkins, calmly.
+
+'My daughter has suddenly become acquainted, sir, with some family
+incidents of a painful nature, and the knowledge of which I have
+hitherto spared her. They are events long past, and their consequences
+are now beyond all control.'
+
+'She knows, then, the worst?'
+
+'Without her mind, I cannot answer that question,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is my duty to tell you that Miss Herbert is in imminent danger;
+she has every appearance of a fever of a malignant character. I cannot
+answer for her life.'
+
+'O God!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yet you must compose yourself, my dear lady. Her chance of recovery
+greatly depends upon the vigilance of her attendants. I shall bleed
+her again, and place leeches on her temples. There is inflammation on
+the brain. There are other remedies also not less powerful. We must
+not despair; we have no cause to despair until we find these fail. I
+shall not leave her again; and, for your satisfaction, not for my own,
+I shall call in additional advice, the aid of a physician.'
+
+A messenger accordingly was instantly despatched for the physician,
+who resided at a town more distant than Southport; the very town,
+by-the-bye, where Morgana, the gipsy, was arrested. They contrived,
+with the aid of Pauncefort, to undress Venetia, and place her in her
+bed, for hitherto they had refrained from this exertion. At this
+moment the withered leaves of a white rose fell from Venetia's dress.
+A sofa-bed was then made for Lady Annabel, of which, however, she did
+not avail herself. The whole night she sat by her daughter's side,
+watching every movement of Venetia, refreshing her hot brow and
+parched lips, or arranging, at every opportunity, her disordered
+pillows. About an hour past midnight the surgeon retired to rest, for
+a few hours, in the apartment prepared for him, and Pauncefort, by the
+desire of her mistress, also withdrew: Lady Annabel was alone with her
+child, and with those agitated thoughts which the strange occurrences
+of the day were well calculated to excite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Early in the morning the physician arrived at Cherbury. It remained
+for him only to approve of the remedies which had been pursued. No
+material change, however, had occurred in the state of Venetia: she
+had not slept, and still she seemed unconscious of what was occurring.
+The gracious interposition of Nature seemed the only hope. When the
+medical men had withdrawn to consult in the terrace-room, Lady Annabel
+beckoned to Pauncefort, and led her to the window of Venetia's
+apartment, which she would not quit.
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'Venetia has been in her father's
+room.'
+
+'Oh! impossible, my lady,' burst forth Mistress Pauncefort; but Lady
+Annabel placed her finger on her lip, and checked her. 'There is no
+doubt of it, there can be no doubt of it, Pauncefort; she entered it
+yesterday; she must have passed the morning there, when you believed
+she was in the park.'
+
+'But, my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'how could it be? For I scarcely left
+your la'ship's room a second, and Miss Venetia, I am sure, never was
+near it. And the key, my lady, the key is in the casket. I saw it half
+an hour ago with my own eyes.'
+
+'There is no use arguing about it, Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel,
+with decision. 'It is as I say. I fear great misfortunes are about to
+commence at Cherbury.'
+
+'Oh! my lady, don't think of such things,' said Pauncefort, herself
+not a little alarmed. 'What can happen?'
+
+'I fear more than I know,' said Lady Annabel; 'but I do fear much. At
+present I can only think of her.'
+
+'Well! my lady,' said poor Mistress Pauncefort, looking bewildered,
+'only to think of such a thing! and after all the pains I have taken!
+I am sure I have not opened my lips on the subject these fifteen
+years; and the many questions I have been asked too! I am sure there
+is not a servant in the house--'
+
+'Hush! hush!' said Lady Annabel, 'I do not blame you, and therefore
+you need not defend yourself. Go, Pauncefort, I must be alone.'
+Pauncefort withdrew, and Lady Annabel resumed her seat by her
+daughter's side.
+
+On the fourth day of her attack the medical attendants observed a
+favourable change in their patient, and were not, of course, slow in
+communicating this joyful intelligence to her mother. The crisis had
+occurred and was past: Venetia had at length sunk into slumber. How
+different was her countenance from the still yet settled features
+they had before watched with such anxiety! She breathed lightly, the
+tension of the eyelids had disappeared, her mouth was slightly open.
+The physician and his colleague declared that immediate danger was
+past, and they counselled Lady Annabel to take repose. On condition
+that one of them should remain by the side of her daughter, the
+devoted yet miserable mother quitted, for the first time her child's
+apartment. Pauncefort followed her to her room.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'I am so glad your la'ship is going to
+lie down a bit.'
+
+'I am not going to lie down, Pauncefort. Give me the key.'
+
+And Lady Annabel proceeded alone to the forbidden chamber, that
+chamber which, after what has occurred, we may now enter with her, and
+where, with so much labour, she had created a room exactly imitative
+of their bridal apartment at her husband's castle. With a slow but
+resolved step she entered the apartment, and proceeding immediately to
+the table, took up the book; it opened at the stanzas to Venetia. The
+pages had recently been bedewed with tears. Lady Annabel then looked
+at the bridal bed, and marked the missing rose in the garland: it was
+as she expected. She seated herself then in the chair opposite the
+portrait, on which she gazed with a glance rather stern than fond.
+
+'Marmion,' she exclaimed, 'for fifteen years, a solitary votary,
+I have mourned over, in this temple of baffled affections, the
+inevitable past. The daughter of our love has found her way, perhaps
+by an irresistible destiny, to a spot sacred to my long-concealed
+sorrows. At length she knows her father. May she never know more! May
+she never learn that the being, whose pictured form has commanded her
+adoration, is unworthy of those glorious gifts that a gracious Creator
+has bestowed upon him! Marmion, you seem to smile upon me; you seem
+to exult in your triumph over the heart of your child. But there is a
+power in a mother's love that yet shall baffle you. Hitherto I have
+come here to deplore the past; hitherto I have come here to dwell
+upon the form that, in spite of all that has happened, I still was,
+perhaps, weak enough, to love. Those feelings are past for ever. Yes!
+you would rob me of my child, you would tear from my heart the only
+consolation you have left me. But Venetia shall still be mine; and
+I, I am no longer yours. Our love, our still lingering love, has
+vanished. You have been my enemy, now I am yours. I gaze upon your
+portrait for the last time; and thus I prevent the magical fascination
+of that face again appealing to the sympathies of my child. Thus and
+thus!' She seized the ancient dagger that we have mentioned as lying
+on the volume, and, springing on the chair, she plunged it into the
+canvas; then, tearing with unflinching resolution the severed parts,
+she scattered the fragments over the chamber, shook into a thousand
+leaves the melancholy garland, tore up the volume of his enamoured
+Muse, and then quitting the chamber, and locking and double locking
+the door, she descended the staircase, and proceeding to the great
+well of Cherbury, hurled into it the fatal key.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, as she met Lady Annabel
+returning in the vestibule, 'Doctor Masham is here.'
+
+'Is he?' said Lady Annabel, as calm as usual. 'I will see him before I
+lie down. Do not go into Venetia's room. She sleeps, and Mr. Hawkins
+has promised me to let me know when she wakes.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+As Lady Annabel entered the terrace-room, Doctor Masham came forward
+and grasped her hand.
+
+'You have heard of our sorrow!' said her ladyship in a faint voice.
+
+'But this instant,' replied the Doctor, in a tone of great anxiety.'
+Immediate danger--'
+
+'Is past. She sleeps,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+'A most sudden and unaccountable attack,' said the Doctor.
+
+It is difficult to describe the contending emotions of the mother as
+her companion made this observation. At length she replied, 'Sudden,
+certainly sudden; but not unaccountable. Oh! my friend,' she added,
+after a moment's pause, 'they will not be content until they have torn
+my daughter from me.'
+
+'They tear your daughter from you!' exclaimed Doctor Masham. 'Who?'
+
+'He, he,' muttered Lady Annabel; her speech was incoherent, her manner
+very disturbed.
+
+'My dear lady,' said the Doctor, gazing on her with extreme anxiety,
+'you are yourself unwell.'
+
+Lady Annabel heaved a deep sigh; the Doctor bore her to a seat. 'Shall
+I send for any one, anything?'
+
+'No one, no one,' quickly answered Lady Annabel. 'With you, at least,
+there is no concealment necessary.'
+
+She leant back in her chair, the Doctor holding her hand, and standing
+by her side.
+
+Still Lady Annabel continued sighing deeply: at length she looked up
+and said, 'Does she love me? Do you think, after all, she loves me?'
+
+'Venetia?' inquired the Doctor, in a low and doubtful voice, for he
+was greatly perplexed.
+
+'She has seen him; she loves him; she has forgotten her mother.'
+
+'My dear lady, you require rest,' said Doctor Masham. 'You are
+overcome with strange fancies. Whom has your daughter seen?'
+
+'Marmion.'
+
+'Impossible! you forget he is--'
+
+'Here also. He has spoken to her: she loves him: she will recover: she
+will fly to him; sooner let us both die!'
+
+'Dear lady!'
+
+'She knows everything. Fate has baffled me; we cannot struggle with
+fate. She is his child; she is like him; she is not like her mother.
+Oh! she hates me; I know she hates me.'
+
+'Hush! hush! hush!' said the Doctor, himself very agitated. 'Venetia
+loves you, only you. Why should she love any one else?'
+
+'Who can help it? I loved him. I saw him. I loved him. His voice was
+music. He has spoken to her, and she yielded: she yielded in a moment.
+I stood by her bedside. She would not speak to me; she would not know
+me; she shrank from me. Her heart is with her father: only with him.'
+
+'Where did she see him? How?'
+
+'His room: his picture. She knows all. I was away with you, and she
+entered his chamber.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'Oh! Doctor, you have influence with her. Speak to her. Make her love
+me! Tell her she has no father; tell her he is dead.'
+
+'We will do that which is well and wise,' replied Doctor Masham: 'at
+present let us be calm; if you give way, her life may be the forfeit.
+Now is the moment for a mother's love.'
+
+'You are right. I should not have left her for an instant. I would not
+have her wake and find her mother not watching over her. But I was
+tempted. She slept; I left her for a moment; I went to destroy the
+spell. She cannot see him again. No one shall see him again. It was my
+weakness, the weakness of long years; and now I am its victim.'
+
+'Nay, nay, my sweet lady, all will be quite well. Be but calm; Venetia
+will recover.'
+
+'But will she love me? Oh! no, no, no! She will think only of him. She
+will not love her mother. She will yearn for her father now. She has
+seen him, and she will not rest until she is in his arms. She will
+desert me, I know it.'
+
+'And I know the contrary,' said the Doctor, attempting to reassure
+her; 'I will answer for Venetia's devotion to you. Indeed she has no
+thought but your happiness, and can love only you. When there is
+a fitting time, I will speak to her; but now, now is the time for
+repose. And you must rest, you must indeed.'
+
+'Rest! I cannot. I slumbered in the chair last night by her bedside,
+and a voice roused me. It was her own. She was speaking to her father.
+She told him how she loved him; how long, how much she thought of him;
+that she would join him when she was well, for she knew he was not
+dead; and, if he were dead, she would die also. She never mentioned
+me.'
+
+'Nay! the light meaning of a delirious brain.' 'Truth, truth, bitter,
+inevitable truth. Oh! Doctor, I could bear all but this; but my child,
+my beautiful fond child, that made up for all my sorrows. My joy, my
+hope, my life! I knew it would be so; I knew he would have her heart.
+He said she never could be alienated from him; he said she never
+could be taught to hate him. I did not teach her to hate him. I said
+nothing. I deemed, fond, foolish mother, that the devotion of my life
+might bind her to me. But what is a mother's love? I cannot contend
+with him. He gained the mother; he will gain the daughter too.'
+
+'God will guard over you,' said Masham, with streaming eyes; 'God will
+not desert a pious and virtuous woman.'
+
+'I must go,' said Lady Annabel, attempting to rise, but the Doctor
+gently controlled her; 'perhaps she is awake, and I am not at her
+side. She will not ask for me, she will ask for him; but I will be
+there; she will desert me, but she shall not say I ever deserted her.'
+
+'She will never desert you,' said the Doctor; 'my life on her pure
+heart. She has been a child of unbroken love and duty; still she
+will remain so. Her mind is for a moment overpowered by a marvellous
+discovery. She will recover, and be to you as she was before.'
+
+'We'll tell her he is dead,' said Lady Annabel, eagerly. 'You must
+tell her. She will believe you. I cannot speak to her of him; no, not
+to secure her heart; never, never, never can I speak to Venetia of her
+father.'
+
+'I will speak,' replied the Doctor, 'at the just time. Now let us
+think of her recovery. She is no longer in danger. We should be
+grateful, we should be glad.'
+
+'Let us pray to God! Let us humble ourselves,' said Lady Annabel. 'Let
+us beseech him not to desert this house. We have been faithful to him,
+we have struggled to be faithful to him. Let us supplicate him to
+favour and support us!'
+
+'He will favour and support you,' said the Doctor, in a solemn tone.
+'He has upheld you in many trials; he will uphold you still.'
+
+'Ah! why did I love him! Why did I continue to love him! How weak, how
+foolish, how mad I have been! I have alone been the cause of all this
+misery. Yes, I have destroyed my child.'
+
+'She lives, she will live. Nay, nay! you must reassure yourself. Come,
+let me send for your servant, and for a moment repose. Nay! take my
+arm. All depends upon you. We have great cares now; let us not conjure
+up fantastic fears.'
+
+'I must go to my daughter's room. Perhaps by her side I might rest.
+Nowhere else. You will attend me to the door, my friend. Yes! it is
+something in this life to have a friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel took the arm of the good Masham. They stopped at her
+daughter's door.
+
+'Rest here a moment,' she said, as she entered the room without a
+sound. In a moment she returned. 'She still sleeps,' said the mother;
+'I shall remain with her, and you--?'
+
+'I will not leave you,' said the Doctor, 'but think not of me. Nay! I
+will not leave you. I will remain under this roof. I have shared its
+serenity and joy; let me not avoid it in this time of trouble and
+tribulation.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Venetia still slept: her mother alone in the chamber watched by her
+side. Some hours had elapsed since her interview with Dr. Masham; the
+medical attendant had departed for a few hours.
+
+Suddenly Venetia moved, opened her eyes, and said in a faint voice,
+'Mamma!'
+
+The blood rushed to Lady Annabel's heart. That single word afforded
+her the most exquisite happiness.
+
+'I am here, dearest,' she replied.
+
+'Mamma, what is all this?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'You have not been well, my own, but now you are much better.'
+
+'I thought I had been dreaming,' replied Venetia, 'and that all was
+not right; somebody, I thought, struck me on my head. But all is right
+now, because you are here, my dear mamma.'
+
+But Lady Annabel could not speak for weeping.
+
+'Are you sure, mamma, that nothing has been done to my head?'
+continued Venetia. 'Why, what is this?' and she touched a light
+bandage on her brow.
+
+'My darling, you have been ill, and you have lost blood; but now you
+are getting quite well. I have been very unhappy about you; but now I
+am quite happy, my sweet, sweet child.'
+
+'How long have I been ill?'
+
+'You have been very ill indeed for four or five days; you have had a
+fever, Venetia; but now the fever is gone; and you are only a little
+weak, and you will soon be well.'
+
+'A fever! and how did I get the fever?'
+
+'Perhaps you caught cold, my child; but we must not talk too much.'
+
+'A fever! I never had a fever before. A fever is like a dream.'
+
+'Hush! sweet love. Indeed you must not speak.'
+
+'Give me your hand, mamma; I will not speak if you will let me hold
+your hand. I thought in the fever that we were parted.'
+
+'I have never left your side, my child, day or night,' said Lady
+Annabel, not without agitation.
+
+'All this time! all these days and nights! No one would do that but
+you, mamma. You think only of me.'
+
+'You repay me by your love, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, feeling that
+her daughter ought not to speak, yet irresistibly impelled to lead out
+her thoughts.
+
+'How can I help loving you, my dear mamma?'
+
+'You do love me, you do love me very much; do you not, sweet child?'
+
+'Better than all the world,' replied Venetia to her enraptured parent.
+'And yet, in the fever I seemed to love some one else: but fevers are
+like dreams; they are not true.'
+
+Lady Annabel pressed her lips gently to her daughter's, and whispered
+her that she must speak no more.
+
+When Mr. Hawkins returned, he gave a favourable report of Venetia. He
+said that all danger was now past, and that all that was required for
+her recovery were time, care, and repose. He repeated to Lady Annabel
+alone that the attack was solely to be ascribed to some great mental
+shock which her daughter had received, and which suddenly had affected
+her circulation; leaving it, after this formal intimation, entirely to
+the mother to take those steps in reference to the cause, whatever it
+might be, which she should deem expedient.
+
+In the evening, Lady Annabel stole down for a few moments to Dr.
+Masham, laden with joyful intelligence; assured of the safety of her
+child, and, what was still more precious, of her heart, and even
+voluntarily promising her friend that she should herself sleep
+this night in her daughter's chamber, on the sofa-bed. The Doctor,
+therefore, now bade her adieu, and said that he should ride over from
+Marringhurst every day, to hear how their patient was proceeding.
+
+From this time, the recovery of Venetia, though slow, was gradual. She
+experienced no relapse, and in a few weeks quitted her bed. She was
+rather surprised at her altered appearance when it first met her
+glance in the mirror, but scarcely made any observation on the loss of
+her locks. During this interval, the mind of Venetia had been quite
+dormant; the rage of the fever, and the violent remedies to which it
+had been necessary to have recourse, had so exhausted her, that she
+had not energy enough to think. All that she felt was a strange
+indefinite conviction that some occurrence had taken place with which
+her memory could not grapple. But as her strength returned, and as she
+gradually resumed her usual health, by proportionate though almost
+invisible degrees her memory returned to her, and her intelligence.
+She clearly recollected and comprehended what had taken place. She
+recalled the past, compared incidents, weighed circumstances, sifted
+and balanced the impressions that now crowded upon her consciousness.
+It is difficult to describe each link in the metaphysical chain which
+at length connected the mind of Venetia Herbert with her actual
+experience and precise situation. It was, however, at length perfect,
+and gradually formed as she sat in an invalid chair, apparently
+listless, not yet venturing on any occupation, or occasionally amused
+for a moment by her mother reading to her. But when her mind had thus
+resumed its natural tone, and in time its accustomed vigour, the past
+demanded all her solicitude. At length the mystery of her birth was
+revealed to her. She was the daughter of Marmion Herbert; and who was
+Marmion Herbert? The portrait rose before her. How distinct was the
+form, how definite the countenance! No common personage was Marmion
+Herbert, even had he not won his wife, and celebrated his daughter in
+such witching strains. Genius was stamped on his lofty brow, and spoke
+in his brilliant eye; nobility was in all his form. This chivalric
+poet was her father. She had read, she had dreamed of such beings, she
+had never seen them. If she quitted the solitude in which she lived,
+would she see men like her father? No other could ever satisfy her
+imagination; all beneath that standard would rank but as imperfect
+creations in her fancy. And this father, he was dead. No doubt.
+Ah! was there indeed no doubt? Eager as was her curiosity on this
+all-absorbing subject, Venetia could never summon courage to speak
+upon it to her mother. Her first disobedience, or rather her first
+deception of her mother, in reference to this very subject, had
+brought, and brought so swiftly on its retributive wings, such
+disastrous consequences, that any allusion to Lady Annabel was
+restrained by a species of superstitious fear, against which Venetia
+could not contend. Then her father was either dead or living. That was
+certain. If dead, it was clear that his memory, however cherished by
+his relict, was associated with feelings too keen to admit of any
+other but solitary indulgence. If living, there was a mystery
+connected with her parents, a mystery evidently of a painful
+character, and one which it was a prime object with her mother to
+conceal and to suppress. Could Venetia, then, in defiance of that
+mother, that fond devoted mother, that mother who had watched through
+long days and long nights over her sick bed, and who now, without a
+murmur, was a prisoner to this very room, only to comfort and console
+her child: could Venetia take any step which might occasion this
+matchless parent even a transient pang? No; it was impossible. To her
+mother she could never speak. And yet, to remain enveloped in the
+present mystery, she was sensible, was equally insufferable. All she
+asked, all she wanted to know, was he alive? If he were alive, then,
+although she could not see him, though she might never see him, she
+could exist upon his idea; she could conjure up romances of future
+existence with him; she could live upon the fond hope of some day
+calling him father, and receiving from his hands the fervid blessing
+he had already breathed to her in song.
+
+In the meantime her remaining parent commanded all her affections.
+Even if he were no more, blessed was her lot with such a mother! Lady
+Annabel seemed only to exist to attend upon her daughter. No lover
+ever watched with such devotion the wants or even the caprices of his
+mistress. A thousand times every day Venetia found herself expressing
+her fondness and her gratitude. It seemed that the late dreadful
+contingency of losing her daughter had developed in Lady Annabel's
+heart even additional powers of maternal devotion; and Venetia, the
+fond and grateful Venetia, ignorant of the strange past, which she
+believed she so perfectly comprehended, returned thanks to Heaven that
+her mother was at least spared the mortification of knowing that her
+daughter, in her absence, had surreptitiously invaded the sanctuary of
+her secret sorrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+When Venetia had so far recovered that, leaning on her mother's arm,
+she could resume her walks upon the terrace, Doctor Masham persuaded
+his friends, as a slight and not unpleasant change of scene, to pay
+him a visit at Marringhurst. Since the chamber scene, indeed, Lady
+Annabel's tie to Cherbury was much weakened. There were certain
+feelings of pain, and fear, and mortification, now associated with
+that place which she could not bear to dwell upon, and which greatly
+balanced those sentiments of refuge and repose, of peace and love,
+with which the old hall, in her mind, was heretofore connected.
+Venetia ever adopted the slightest intimations of a wish on the part
+of her mother, and so she readily agreed to fall into the arrangement.
+
+It was rather a long and rough journey to Marringhurst, for they were
+obliged to use the old chariot; but Venetia forgot her fatigues in
+the cordial welcome of their host, whose sparkling countenance well
+expressed the extreme gratification their arrival occasioned him.
+All that the tenderest solicitude could devise for the agreeable
+accommodation of the invalid had been zealously concerted; and the
+constant influence of Dr. Masham's cheerful mind was as beneficial to
+Lady Annabel as to her daughter. The season was gay, the place was
+pleasant; and although they were only a few miles from home, in a
+house with which they were familiar, and their companion one whom they
+had known intimately all their lives, and of late almost daily seen;
+yet such is the magic of a change in our habits, however slight, and
+of the usual theatre of their custom, that this visit to Marringhurst
+assumed quite the air of an adventure, and seemed at first almost
+invested with the charm and novelty of travel.
+
+The surrounding country, which, though verdant, was flat, was well
+adapted to the limited exertions and still feeble footsteps of an
+invalid, and Venetia began to study botany with the Doctor, who indeed
+was not very profound in his attainments in this respect, but knew
+quite enough to amuse his scholar. By degrees also, as her strength
+daily increased, they extended their walks; and at length she even
+mounted her pony, and was fast recovering her elasticity both of body
+and mind. There were also many pleasant books with which she was
+unacquainted; a cabinet of classic coins, prints, and pictures. She
+became, too, interested in the Doctor's rural pursuits; would watch
+him with his angle, and already meditated a revolution in his garden.
+So time, on the whole, flew cheerfully on, certainly without
+any weariness; and the day seldom passed that they did not all
+congratulate themselves on the pleasant and profitable change.
+
+In the meantime Venetia, when alone, still recurred to that idea that
+was now so firmly rooted in her mind, that it was quite out of the
+power of any social discipline to divert her attention from it. She
+was often the sole companion of the Doctor, and she had long resolved
+to seize a favourable opportunity to appeal to him on the subject of
+her father. It so happened that she was walking alone with him one
+morning in the neighbourhood of Marringhurst, having gone to visit the
+remains of a Roman encampment in the immediate vicinity. When they had
+arrived at the spot, and the Doctor had delivered his usual lecture on
+the locality, they sat down together on a mound, that Venetia might
+rest herself.
+
+'Were you ever in Italy, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'I never was out of my native country,' said the Doctor. 'I once,
+indeed, was about making the grand tour with a pupil of mine at
+Oxford, but circumstances interfered which changed his plans, and so I
+remain a regular John Bull.'
+
+'Was my father at Oxford?' said Venetia, quietly.
+
+'He was,' replied the Doctor, looking confused.
+
+'I should like to see Oxford much,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is a most interesting seat of learning,' said the Doctor, quite
+delighted to change the subject. 'Whether we consider its antiquity,
+its learning, the influence it has exercised upon the history of the
+country, its magnificent endowments, its splendid buildings, its great
+colleges, libraries, and museums, or that it is one of the principal
+head-quarters of all the hope of England, our youth, it is not too
+much to affirm that there is scarcely a spot on the face of the globe
+of equal interest and importance.'
+
+'It is not for its colleges, or libraries, or museums, or all its
+splendid buildings,' observed Venetia, 'that I should wish to see it.
+I wish to see it because my father was once there. I should like to
+see a place where I was quite certain my father had been.'
+
+'Still harping of her father,' thought the Doctor to himself, and
+growing uneasy; yet, from his very anxiety to turn the subject, quite
+incapable of saying an appropriate word.
+
+'Do you remember my father at Oxford, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes! no, yes!' said the Doctor, rather colouring; 'that he must have
+been there in my time, I rather think.'
+
+'But you do not recollect him?' said Venetia, pressing question.
+
+'Why,' rejoined the Doctor, a little more collected, 'when you
+remember that there are between two and three thousand young men at
+the university, you must not consider it very surprising that I might
+not recollect your father.'
+
+'No,' said Venetia, 'perhaps not: and yet I cannot help thinking that
+he must always have been a person who, if once seen, would not easily
+have been forgotten.'
+
+'Here is an Erica vagans,' said the Doctor, picking a flower; 'it
+is rather uncommon about here;' and handing it at the same time to
+Venetia.
+
+'My father must have been very young when he died?' said Venetia,
+scarcely looking at the flower.
+
+'Yes, your father was very young,' he replied.
+
+'Where did he die?'
+
+'I cannot answer that question.'
+
+'Where was he buried?'
+
+'You know, my dear young lady, that the subject is too tender for any
+one to converse with your poor mother upon it. It is not in my power
+to give you the information you desire. Be satisfied, my dear Miss
+Herbert, that a gracious Providence has spared to you one parent, and
+one so inestimable.'
+
+'I trust I know how to appreciate so great a blessing,' replied
+Venetia; 'but I should be sorry if the natural interest which all
+children must take in those who have given them birth, should be
+looked upon as idle and unjustifiable curiosity.'
+
+'My dear young lady, you misapprehend me.'
+
+'No, Doctor Masham, indeed I do not,' replied Venetia, with firmness.
+'I can easily conceive that the mention of my father may for various
+reasons be insupportable to my mother; it is enough for me that I am
+convinced such is the case: my lips are sealed to her for ever upon
+the subject; but I cannot recognise the necessity of this constraint
+to others. For a long time I was kept in ignorance whether I had
+a father or not. I have discovered, no matter how, who he was. I
+believe, pardon me, my dearest friend, I cannot help believing, that
+you were acquainted, or, at least, that you know something of him; and
+I entreat you! yes,' repeated Venetia with great emphasis, laying
+her hand upon his arm, and looking with earnestness in his face, 'I
+entreat you, by all your kind feelings to my mother and myself, by all
+that friendship we so prize, by the urgent solicitation of a daughter
+who is influenced in her curiosity by no light or unworthy feeling;
+yes! by all the claims of a child to information which ought not to be
+withheld from her, tell me, tell me all, tell me something! Speak, Dr.
+Masham, do speak!'
+
+'My dear young lady,' said the Doctor, with a glistening eye, 'it is
+better that we should both be silent.'
+
+'No, indeed,' replied Venetia, 'it is not better; it is not well that
+we should be silent. Candour is a great virtue. There is a charm, a
+healthy charm, in frankness. Why this mystery? Why these secrets? Have
+they worked good? Have they benefited us? O! my friend, I would not
+say so to my mother, I would not be tempted by any sufferings to pain
+for an instant her pure and affectionate heart; but indeed, Doctor
+Masham, indeed, indeed, what I tell you is true, all my late illness,
+my present state, all, all are attributable but to one cause, this
+mystery about my father!'
+
+'What can I tell you?' said the unhappy Masham.
+
+'Tell me only one fact. I ask no more. Yes! I promise you, solemnly I
+promise you, I will ask no more. Tell me, does he live?'
+
+'He does!' said the Doctor. Venetia sank upon his shoulder.
+
+'My dear young lady, my darling young lady!' said the Doctor; 'she has
+fainted. What can I do?' The unfortunate Doctor placed Venetia in a
+reclining posture, and hurried to a brook that was nigh, and brought
+water in his hand to sprinkle on her. She revived; she made a struggle
+to restore herself.
+
+'It is nothing,' she said, 'I am resolved to be well. I am well. I am
+myself again. He lives; my father lives! I was confident of it! I will
+ask no more. I am true to my word. O! Doctor Masham, you have always
+been my kind friend, but you have never yet conferred on me a favour
+like the one you have just bestowed.'
+
+'But it is well,' said the Doctor, 'as you know so much, that you
+should know more.'
+
+'Yes! yes!'
+
+'As we walk along,' he continued, 'we will converse, or at another
+time; there is no lack of opportunity.'
+
+'No, now, now!' eagerly exclaimed Venetia, 'I am quite well. It was
+not pain or illness that overcame me. Now let us walk, now let us talk
+of these things. He lives?'
+
+'I have little to add,' said Dr. Masham, after a moment's thought;
+'but this, however painful, it is necessary for you to know, that your
+father is unworthy of your mother, utterly; they are separated; they
+never can be reunited.'
+
+'Never?' said Venetia.
+
+'Never,' replied Dr. Masham; 'and I now warn you; if, indeed, as I
+cannot doubt, you love your mother; if her peace of mind and happiness
+are, as I hesitate not to believe, the principal objects of your life,
+upon this subject with her be for ever silent. Seek to penetrate no
+mysteries, spare all allusions, banish, if possible, the idea of your
+father from your memory. Enough, you know he lives. We know no more.
+Your mother labours to forget him; her only consolation for sorrows
+such as few women ever experienced, is her child, yourself, your love.
+Now be no niggard with it. Cling to this unrivalled parent, who has
+dedicated her life to you. Soothe her sufferings, endeavour to make
+her share your happiness; but, of this be certain, that if you
+raise up the name and memory of your father between your mother and
+yourself, her life will be the forfeit!'
+
+'His name shall never pass my lips,' said Venetia; 'solemnly I vow it.
+That his image shall be banished from my heart is too much to ask, and
+more than it is in my power to grant. But I am my mother's child. I
+will exist only for her; and if my love can console her, she shall
+never be without solace. I thank you, Doctor, for all your kindness.
+We will never talk again upon the subject; yet, believe me, you have
+acted wisely, you have done good.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia observed her promise to Doctor Masham with strictness. She
+never alluded to her father, and his name never escaped her mother's
+lips. Whether Doctor Masham apprised Lady Annabel of the conversation
+that had taken place between himself and her daughter, it is not in
+our power to mention. The visit to Marringhurst was not a short one.
+It was a relief both to Lady Annabel and Venetia, after all that had
+occurred, to enjoy the constant society of their friend; and this
+change of life, though apparently so slight, proved highly beneficial
+to Venetia. She daily recovered her health, and a degree of mental
+composure which she had not for some time enjoyed. On the whole she
+was greatly satisfied with the discoveries which she had made. She had
+ascertained the name and the existence of her father: his very form
+and appearance were now no longer matter for conjecture; and in a
+degree she had even communicated with him. Time, she still believed,
+would develope even further wonders. She clung to an irresistible
+conviction that she should yet see him; that he might even again
+be united to her mother. She indulged in dreams as to his present
+pursuits and position; she repeated to herself his verses, and
+remembered his genius with pride and consolation.
+
+They returned to Cherbury, they resumed the accustomed tenour of their
+lives, as if nothing had occurred to disturb it. The fondness between
+the mother and her daughter was unbroken and undiminished. They shared
+again the same studies and the same amusements. Lady Annabel perhaps
+indulged the conviction that Venetia had imbibed the belief that her
+father was no more, and yet in truth that father was the sole idea on
+which her child ever brooded. Venetia had her secret now; and often
+as she looked up at the windows of the uninhabited portion of the
+building, she remembered with concealed, but not less keen exultation,
+that she had penetrated their mystery. She could muse for hours over
+all that chamber had revealed to her, and indulge in a thousand
+visions, of which her father was the centre. She was his 'own
+Venetia.' Thus he had hailed her at her birth, and thus he might yet
+again acknowledge her. If she could only ascertain where he existed!
+What if she could, and she were to communicate with him? He must love
+her. Her heart assured her he must love her. She could not believe,
+if they were to meet, that his breast could resist the silent appeal
+which the sight merely of his only child would suffice to make. Oh!
+why had her parents parted? What could have been his fault? He was so
+young! But a few, few years older than herself, when her mother must
+have seen him for the last time. Yes! for the last time beheld that
+beautiful form, and that countenance that seemed breathing only with
+genius and love. He might have been imprudent, rash, violent; but
+she would not credit for an instant that a stain could attach to the
+honour or the spirit of Marmion Herbert.
+
+The summer wore away. One morning, as Lady Annabel and Venetia were
+sitting together, Mistress Pauncefort bustled into the room with
+a countenance radiant with smiles and wonderment. Her ostensible
+business was to place upon the table a vase of flowers, but it was
+evident that her presence was occasioned by affairs of far greater
+urgency. The vase was safely deposited; Mistress Pauncefort gave the
+last touch to the arrangement of the flowers; she lingered about Lady
+Annabel. At length she said, 'I suppose you have heard the news, my
+lady?'
+
+'Indeed, Pauncefort, I have not,' replied Lady Annabel. 'What news?'
+
+'My lord is coming to the abbey.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'Oh! yes, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'I am not at all
+surprised your ladyship should be so astonished. Never to write, too!
+Well, I must say he might have given us a line. But he is coming, I am
+certain sure of that, my lady. My lord's gentleman has been down these
+two days; and all his dogs and guns too, my lady. And the keeper is
+ordered to be quite ready, my lady, for the first. I wonder if there
+is going to be a party. I should not be at all surprised.'
+
+'Plantagenet returned!' said Lady Annabel. 'Well, I shall be very glad
+to see him again.'
+
+'So shall I, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'but I dare say we
+shall hardly know him again, he must be so grown. Trimmer has been
+over to the abbey, my lady, and saw my lord's valet. Quite the fine
+gentleman, Trimmer says. I was thinking of walking over myself this
+afternoon, to see poor Mrs. Quin, my lady; I dare say we might be
+of use, and neighbours should be handy, as they say. She is a very
+respectable woman, poor Mrs. Quin, and I am sure for my part, if your
+ladyship has no objection, I should be very glad to be of service to
+her.'
+
+'I have of course no objection, Pauncefort, to your being of service
+to the housekeeper, but has she required your assistance?'
+
+'Why no, my lady, but poor Mrs. Quin would hardly like to ask for
+anything, my lady; but I am sure we might be of very great use, for
+my lord's gentleman seems very dissatisfied at his reception, Trimmer
+says. He has his hot breakfast every morning, my lady, and poor Mrs.
+Quin says--'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, that will do,' said Lady Annabel, and the
+functionary disappeared.
+
+'We have almost forgotten Plantagenet, Venetia,' added Lady Annabel,
+addressing herself to her daughter.
+
+'He has forgotten us, I think, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Five years had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis had quitted the seat of his
+fathers, nor did the fair inhabitants of Cherbury hear of his return
+without emotion. Although the intercourse between them during this
+interval had from the first been too slightly maintained, and of late
+years had entirely died off, his return was, nevertheless, an event
+which recalled old times and revived old associations. His visit to
+the hall was looked forward to with interest. He did not long keep his
+former friends in suspense; for although he was not uninfluenced by
+some degree of embarrassment from the consciousness of neglect on his
+side, rendered more keen now that he again found himself in the scene
+endeared by the remembrance of their kindness, he was, nevertheless,
+both too well bred and too warm-hearted to procrastinate the
+performance of a duty which the regulations of society and natural
+impulse alike assured him was indispensable. On the very morning,
+therefore, after his arrival, having sauntered awhile over the old
+abbey and strolled over the park, mused over his mother's tomb with
+emotion, not the less deep because there was no outward and visible
+sign of its influence, he ordered his horses, and directed his way
+through the accustomed woods to Cherbury.
+
+Five years had not passed away without their effects at least upon the
+exterior being of Cadurcis. Although still a youth, his appearance
+was manly. A thoughtful air had become habitual to a countenance
+melancholy even in his childhood. Nor was its early promise of beauty
+unfulfilled; although its expression was peculiar, and less pleasing
+than impressive. His long dark locks shaded a pale and lofty brow that
+well became a cast of features delicately moulded, yet reserved and
+haughty, and perhaps even somewhat scornful. His figure had set into a
+form of remarkable slightness and elegance, and distinguished for
+its symmetry. Altogether his general mien was calculated to attract
+attention and to excite interest.
+
+His vacations while at Eton had been spent by Lord Cadurcis in the
+family of his noble guardian, one of the king's ministers. Here he had
+been gradually initiated in the habits and manners of luxurious and
+refined society. Since he had quitted Eton he had passed a season,
+previous to his impending residence at Cambridge, in the same sphere.
+The opportunities thus offered had not been lost upon a disposition
+which, with all its native reserve, was singularly susceptible.
+Cadurcis had quickly imbibed the tone and adopted the usages of
+the circle in which he moved. Naturally impatient of control, he
+endeavoured by his precocious manhood to secure the respect and
+independence which would scarcely have been paid or permitted to his
+years. From an early period he never permitted himself to be treated
+as a boy; and his guardian, a man whose whole soul was concentred in
+the world, humoured a bent which he approved and from which he augured
+the most complete success. Attracted by the promising talents and the
+premature character of his ward, he had spared more time to assist the
+development of his mind and the formation of his manners than might
+have been expected from a minister of state. His hopes, indeed, rested
+with confidence on his youthful relative, and he looked forward with
+no common emotion to the moment when he should have the honour of
+introducing to public life one calculated to confer so much credit
+on his tutor, and shed so much lustre on his party. The reader will,
+therefore, not be surprised if at this then unrivalled period of
+political excitement, when the existence of our colonial empire was
+at stake, Cadurcis, with his impetuous feelings, had imbibed to
+their fullest extent all the plans, prejudices, and passions of his
+political connections. He was, indeed, what the circumstances of the
+times and his extreme youth might well excuse, if not justify, a most
+violent partisan. Bold, sanguine, resolute, and intolerant, it was
+difficult to persuade him that any opinions could be just which were
+opposed to those of the circle in which he lived; and out of that
+pale, it must be owned, he was as little inclined to recognise the
+existence of ability as of truth.
+
+As Lord Cadurcis slowly directed his way through the woods and park of
+Cherbury, past years recurred to him like a faint yet pleasing dream.
+Among these meads and bowers had glided away the only happy years of
+his boyhood, the only period of his early life to which he could look
+back without disgust. He recalled the secret exultation with which, in
+company with his poor mother, he had first repaired to Cadurcis, about
+to take possession of what, to his inexperienced imagination, then
+appeared a vast and noble inheritance, and for the first time in his
+life to occupy a position not unworthy of his rank. For how many
+domestic mortifications did the first sight of that old abbey
+compensate! How often, in pacing its venerable galleries and solemn
+cloisters, and musing over the memory of an ancient and illustrious
+ancestry, had he forgotten those bitter passages of daily existence,
+so humbling to his vanity and so harassing to his heart! Ho had beheld
+that morn, after an integral of many years, the tomb of his mother.
+That simple and solitary monument had revived and impressed upon him a
+conviction that too easily escaped in the various life and busy scenes
+in which he had since moved, the conviction of his worldly desolation
+and utter loneliness. He had no parents, no relations; now that he was
+for a moment free from the artificial life in which he had of late
+mingled, he felt that he had no friends. The image of his mother came
+back to him, softened by the magical tint of years; after all she was
+his mother, and a deep sharer in all his joys and woes. Transported to
+the old haunts of his innocent and warm-hearted childhood. He sighed
+for a finer and a sweeter sympathy than was ever yielded by the roof
+which he had lately quitted; a habitation, but not a home. He conjured
+up the picture of his guardian, existing in a whirl of official bustle
+and social excitement. A dreamy reminiscence of finer impulses stole
+over the heart of Cadurcis. The dazzling pageant of metropolitan
+splendour faded away before the bright scene of nature that surrounded
+him. He felt the freshness of the fragrant breeze; he gazed with
+admiration on the still and ancient woods, and his pure and lively
+blood bubbled beneath the influence of the golden sunbeams. Before him
+rose the halls of Cherbury, that roof where he had been so happy, that
+roof to which he had appeared so ungrateful. The memory of a thousand
+acts of kindness, of a thousand soft and soothing traits of affection,
+recurred to him with a freshness which startled as much as it pleased
+him. Not to him only, but to his mother, that mother whose loss he had
+lived to deplore, had the inmates of Cherbury been ministering angels
+of peace and joy. Oh! that indeed had been a home; there indeed had
+been days of happiness; there indeed he had found sympathy, and
+solace, and succour! And now he was returning to them a stranger, to
+fulfil one of the formal duties of society in paying them his cold
+respects; an attention which he could scarcely have avoided offering
+had he been to them the merest acquaintance, instead of having found
+within those walls a home not merely in words, but friendship the most
+delicate and love the most pure, a second parent, and the only being
+whom he had ever styled sister!
+
+The sight of Cadurcis became dim with emotion as the associations of
+old scenes and his impending interview with Venetia brought back
+the past with a power which he had rarely experienced in the
+playing-fields of Eton, or the saloons of London. Five years! It was
+an awful chasm in their acquaintance.
+
+He despaired of reviving the kindness which had been broken by such a
+dreary interval, and broken on his side so wilfully; and yet he
+began to feel that unless met with that kindness he should be very
+miserable. Sooth to say, he was not a little embarrassed, and scarcely
+knew which contingency he most desired, to meet, or to escape from
+her. He almost repented his return to Cadurcis, and yet to see Venetia
+again he felt must be exquisite pleasure. Influenced by these feelings
+he arrived at the hall steps, and so, dismounting and giving his horse
+to his groom, Cadurcis, with a palpitating heart and faltering hand,
+formally rang the bell of that hall which in old days he entered at
+all seasons without ceremony.
+
+Never perhaps did a man feel more nervous; he grew pale, paler even
+than usual, and his whole frame trembled as the approaching footstep
+of the servant assured him the door was about to open. He longed now
+that the family might not be at home, that he might at least gain
+four-and-twenty hours to prepare himself. But the family were at home
+and he was obliged to enter. He stopped for a moment in the hall under
+the pretence of examining the old familiar scene, but it was merely to
+collect himself, for his sight was clouded; spoke to the old servant,
+to reassure himself by the sound of his own voice, but the husky words
+seemed to stick in his throat; ascended the staircase with tottering
+steps, and leant against the banister as he heard his name announced.
+The effort, however, must be made; it was too late to recede; and Lord
+Cadurcis, entering the terrace-room, extended his hand to Lady Annabel
+Herbert. She was not in the least changed, but looked as beautiful and
+serene as usual. Her salutation, though far from deficient in warmth,
+was a little more dignified than that which Plantagenet remembered;
+but still her presence reassured him, and while he pressed her hand
+with earnestness he contrived to murmur forth with pleasing emotion,
+his delight at again meeting her. Strange to say, in the absorbing
+agitation of the moment, all thought of Venetia had vanished; and
+it was when he had turned and beheld a maiden of the most exquisite
+beauty that his vision had ever lighted on, who had just risen from
+her seat and was at the moment saluting him, that he entirely lost his
+presence of mind; he turned scarlet, was quite silent, made an awkward
+bow, and then stood perfectly fixed.
+
+'My daughter,' said Lady Annabel, slightly pointing to Venetia; 'will
+not you be seated?'
+
+Cadurcis fell into a chair in absolute confusion. The rare and
+surpassing beauty of Venetia, his own stupidity, his admiration of
+her, his contempt for himself, the sight of the old chamber, the
+recollection of the past, the minutest incidents of which seemed all
+suddenly to crowd upon his memory, the painful consciousness of the
+revolution which had occurred in his position in the family, proved by
+his first being obliged to be introduced to Venetia, and then
+being addressed so formally by his title by her mother; all these
+impressions united overcame him; he could not speak, he sat silent and
+confounded; and had it not been for the imperturbable self-composure
+and delicate and amiable consideration of Lady Annabel, it would
+have been impossible for him to have remained in a room where he
+experienced agonising embarrassment.
+
+Under cover, however, of a discharge of discreet inquiries as to when
+he arrived, how long he meant to stay, whether he found Cadurcis
+altered, and similar interrogations which required no extraordinary
+exertion of his lordship's intellect to answer, but to which he
+nevertheless contrived to give inconsistent and contradictory
+responses, Cadurcis in time recovered himself sufficiently to maintain
+a fair though not very brilliant conversation, and even ventured
+occasionally to address an observation to Venetia, who was seated at
+her work perfectly composed, but who replied to all his remarks with
+the same sweet voice and artless simplicity which had characterised
+her childhood, though time and thought had, by their blended
+influence, perhaps somewhat deprived her of that wild grace and
+sparkling gaiety for which she was once so eminent.
+
+These great disenchanters of humanity, if indeed they had stolen away
+some of the fascinating qualities of infancy, had amply recompensed
+Venetia Herbert for the loss by the additional and commanding charms
+which they had conferred on her. From a beautiful child she had
+expanded into a most beautiful woman. She had now entirely recovered
+from her illness, of which the only visible effect was the addition
+that it had made to her stature, already slightly above the middle
+height, but of exquisite symmetry. Like her mother, she did not wear
+powder, then usual in society; but her auburn hair, of the finest
+texture, descended in long and luxuriant tresses far over her
+shoulders, braided with ribands, perfectly exposing her pellucid brow,
+here and there tinted with an undulating vein, for she had retained,
+if possible with increased lustre, the dazzling complexion of her
+infancy. If the rose upon the cheek were less vivid than of yore, the
+dimples were certainly more developed; the clear grey eye was shadowed
+by long dark lashes, and every smile and movement of those ruby lips
+revealed teeth exquisitely small and regular, and fresh and brilliant
+as pearls just plucked by a diver.
+
+Conversation proceeded and improved. Cadurcis became more easy and
+more fluent. His memory, which seemed suddenly to have returned to him
+with unusual vigour, wonderfully served him. There was scarcely an
+individual of whom he did not contrive to inquire, from Dr. Masham to
+Mistress Pauncefort; he was resolved to show that if he had neglected,
+he had at least not forgotten them. Nor did he exhibit the slightest
+indication of terminating his visit; so that Lady Annabel, aware that
+he was alone at the abbey and that he could have no engagement in the
+neighbourhood, could not refrain from inviting him to remain and dine
+with them. The invitation was accepted without hesitation. In due
+course of time Cadurcis attended the ladies in their walk; it was a
+delightful stroll in the park, though he felt some slight emotion when
+he found himself addressing Venetia by the title of 'Miss Herbert.'
+When he had exhausted all the topics of local interest, he had a great
+deal to say about himself in answer to the inquiries of Lady Annabel.
+He spoke with so much feeling and simplicity of his first days at
+Eton, and the misery he experienced on first quitting Cherbury, that
+his details could not fail of being agreeable to those whose natural
+self-esteem they so agreeably mattered. Then he dwelt upon his casual
+acquaintance with London society, and Lady Annabel was gratified to
+observe, from many incidental observations, that his principles were
+in every respect of the right tone; and that he had zealously enlisted
+himself in the ranks of that national party who opposed themselves
+to the disorganising opinions then afloat. He spoke of his impending
+residence at the university with the affectionate anticipations which
+might have been expected from a devoted child of the ancient and
+orthodox institutions of his country, and seemed perfectly impressed
+with the responsible duties for which he was destined, as an
+hereditary legislator of England. On the whole, his carriage and
+conversation afforded a delightful evidence of a pure, and earnest,
+and frank, and gifted mind, that had acquired at an early age much of
+the mature and fixed character of manhood, without losing anything
+of that boyish sincerity and simplicity too often the penalty of
+experience.
+
+The dinner passed in pleasant conversation, and if they were no longer
+familiar, they were at least cordial. Cadurcis spoke of Dr. Masham
+with affectionate respect, and mentioned his intention of visiting
+Marringhurst on the following day. He ventured to hope that Lady
+Annabel and Miss Herbert might accompany him, and it was arranged that
+his wish should be gratified. The evening drew on apace, and Lady
+Annabel was greatly pleased when Lord Cadurcis expressed his wish to
+remain for their evening prayers. He was indeed sincerely religious;
+and as he knelt in the old chapel that had been the hallowed scene
+of his boyish devotions, he offered his ardent thanksgivings to his
+Creator who had mercifully kept his soul pure and true, and allowed
+him, after so long an estrangement from the sweet spot of his
+childhood, once more to mingle his supplications with his kind and
+virtuous friends.
+
+Influenced by the solemn sounds still lingering in his ear, Cadurcis
+bade them farewell for the night, with an earnestness of manner and
+depth of feeling which he would scarcely have ventured to exhibit at
+their first meeting. 'Good night, dear Lady Annabel,' he said, as he
+pressed her hand; 'you know not how happy, how grateful I feel, to be
+once more at Cherbury. Good night, Venetia!'
+
+That last word lingered on his lips; it was uttered in a tone at once
+mournful and sweet, and her hand was unconsciously retained for a
+moment in his; but for a moment; and yet in that brief instant a
+thousand thoughts seemed to course through his brain.
+
+Before Venetia retired to rest she remained for a few minutes in her
+mother's room. 'What do you think of him, mamma?' she said; 'is he not
+very changed?'
+
+'He is, my love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'what I sometimes thought he
+might, what I always hoped he would, be.'
+
+'He really seemed happy to meet us again, and yet how strange that for
+years he should never have communicated with us.'
+
+'Not so very strange, my love! He was but a child when we parted, and
+he has felt embarrassment in resuming connections which for a long
+interval had been inevitably severed. Remember what a change his life
+had to endure; few, after such an interval, would have returned with
+feelings so kind and so pure!'
+
+'He was always a favourite of yours, mamma!'
+
+'I always fancied that I observed in him the seeds of great virtues
+and great talents; but I was not so sanguine that they would have
+flourished as they appear to have done.'
+
+In the meantime the subject of their observations strolled home
+on foot, for he had dismissed his horses, to the abbey. It was a
+brilliant night, and the white beams of the moon fell full upon the
+old monastic pile, of which massy portions were in dark shade while
+the light gracefully rested on the projecting ornaments of the
+building, and played, as it were, with the fretted and fantastic
+pinnacles. Behind were the savage hills, softened by the hour; and on
+the right extended the still and luminous lake. Cadurcis rested for
+a moment and gazed upon the fair, yet solemn scene. The dreams of
+ambition that occasionally distracted him were dead. The surrounding
+scene harmonised with the thoughts of purity, repose, and beauty that
+filled his soul. Why should he ever leave this spot, sacred to him by
+the finest emotions of his nature? Why should he not at once quit
+that world which he had just entered, while he could quit it without
+remorse? If ever there existed a being who was his own master, who
+might mould his destiny at his will, it seemed to be Cadurcis. His
+lone yet independent situation, his impetuous yet firm volition, alike
+qualified him to achieve the career most grateful to his disposition.
+Let him, then, achieve it here; here let him find that solitude he had
+ever loved, softened by that affection for which he had ever sighed,
+and which here only he had ever found. It seemed to him that there
+was only one being in the world whom he had ever loved, and that was
+Venetia Herbert: it seemed to him that there was only one thing in
+this world worth living for, and that was the enjoyment of her sweet
+heart. The pure-minded, the rare, the gracious creature! Why should
+she ever quit these immaculate bowers wherein she had been so
+mystically and delicately bred? Why should she ever quit the fond
+roof of Cherbury, but to shed grace and love amid the cloisters of
+Cadurcis? Her life hitherto had been an enchanted tale; why should
+the spell ever break? Why should she enter that world where care,
+disappointment, mortification, misery, must await her? He for a season
+had left the magic circle of her life, and perhaps it was well. He was
+a man, and so he should know all. But he had returned, thank Heaven!
+he had returned, and never again would he quit her. Fool that he had
+been ever to have neglected her! And for a reason that ought to have
+made him doubly her friend, her solace, her protector. Oh! to think of
+the sneers or the taunts of the world calling for a moment the colour
+from that bright cheek, or dusking for an instant the radiance of that
+brilliant eye! His heart ached at the thought of her unhappiness, and
+he longed to press her to it, and cherish her like some innocent dove
+that had flown from the terrors of a pursuing hawk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+'Well, Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, smiling, as he renewed his
+acquaintance with his old friend, 'I hope you have not forgotten my
+last words, and have taken care of your young lady.'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing and simpering.
+'Well to be sure, how your lordship has surprised us all! I thought we
+were never going to see you again!'
+
+'You know I told you I should return; and now I mean never to leave
+you again.'
+
+'Never is a long word, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, looking
+very archly.
+
+'Ah! but I mean to settle, regularly to settle here,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry and settle, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, still more
+arch.
+
+'And why not?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, laughing.
+
+'That is just what I said last night,' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort,
+eagerly. 'And why not? for I said, says I, his lordship must marry
+sooner or later, and the sooner the better, say I: and to be sure he
+is very young, but what of that? for, says I, no one can say he does
+not look quite a man. And really, my lord, saving your presence, you
+are grown indeed.'
+
+'Pish!' said Lord Cadurcis, turning away and laughing, 'I have left
+off growing, Pauncefort, and all those sort of things.'
+
+'You have not forgotten our last visit to Marringhurst?' said Lord
+Cadurcis to Venetia, as the comfortable mansion of the worthy Doctor
+appeared in sight.
+
+'I have forgotten nothing,' replied Venetia with a faint smile; 'I do
+not know what it is to forget. My life has been so uneventful that
+every past incident, however slight, is as fresh in my memory as if it
+occurred yesterday.'
+
+'Then you remember the strawberries and cream?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And other circumstances less agreeable,' he fancied Venetia observed,
+but her voice was low.
+
+'Do you know, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I was very
+nearly riding my pony to-day? I wish to bring back old times with the
+utmost possible completeness; I wish for a moment to believe that I
+have never quitted Cherbury.'
+
+'Let us think only of the present now,' said Lady Annabel in a
+cheerful voice, 'for it is very agreeable. I see the good Doctor; he
+has discovered us.'
+
+'I wonder whom he fancies Lord Cadurcis to be?' said Venetia.
+
+'Have you no occasional cavalier for whom at a distance I may be
+mistaken?' inquired his lordship in a tone of affected carelessness,
+though in truth it was an inquiry that he made not without anxiety.
+
+'Everything remains here exactly as you left it,' replied Lady
+Annabel, with some quickness, yet in a lively tone.
+
+'Happy Cherbury!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis. 'May it indeed never
+change!'
+
+They rode briskly on; the Doctor was standing at his gate. He saluted
+Lady Annabel and Venetia with his accustomed cordiality, and then
+stared at their companion as if waiting for an introduction.
+
+'You forget an old friend, my dear Doctor,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Dr. Masham. His lordship had by this time
+dismounted and eagerly extended his hand to his old tutor.
+
+Having quitted their horses they all entered the house, nor was there
+naturally any want of conversation. Cadurcis had much information to
+give and many questions to answer. He was in the highest spirits
+and the most amiable mood; gay, amusing, and overflowing with
+kind-heartedness. The Doctor seldom required any inspiration, to be
+joyous, and Lady Annabel was unusually animated. Venetia alone, though
+cheerful, was calmer than pleased Cadurcis. Time, he sorrowfully
+observed, had occasioned a greater change in her manner than he could
+have expected. Youthful as she still was, indeed but on the threshold
+of womanhood, and exempted, as it seemed she had been, from anything
+to disturb the clearness of her mind, that enchanting play of fancy
+which had once characterised her, and which he recalled with a sigh,
+appeared in a great degree to have deserted her. He watched her
+countenance with emotion, and, supremely beautiful as it undeniably
+was, there was a cast of thoughtfulness or suffering impressed upon
+the features which rendered him mournful he knew not why, and caused
+him to feel as if a cloud had stolen unexpectedly over the sun and
+made him shiver.
+
+But there was no time or opportunity for sad reflections; he had to
+renew his acquaintance with all the sights and curiosities of the
+rectory, to sing to the canaries, and visit the gold fish, admire the
+stuffed fox, and wonder that in the space of five years the voracious
+otter had not yet contrived to devour its prey. Then they refreshed
+themselves after their ride with a stroll in the Doctor's garden;
+Cadurcis persisted in attaching himself to Venetia, as in old days,
+and nothing would prevent him from leading her to the grotto. Lady
+Annabel walked behind, leaning on the Doctor's arm, narrating, with no
+fear of being heard, all the history of their friend's return.
+
+'I never was so surprised in my life,' said the Doctor; 'he is vastly
+improved; he is quite a man; his carriage is very finished.'
+
+'And his principles,' said Lady Annabel. 'You have no idea, my dear
+Doctor, how right his opinions seem to be on every subject. He has
+been brought up in a good school; he does his guardian great credit.
+He is quite loyal and orthodox in all his opinions; ready to risk his
+life for our blessed constitution in Church and State. He requested,
+as a favour, that he might remain at our prayers last night. It is
+delightful for me to see him turn out so well!'
+
+In the meantime Cadurcis and Venetia entered the grotto.
+
+'The dear Doctor!' said Cadurcis: 'five years have brought no visible
+change even to him; perhaps he may be a degree less agile, but I will
+not believe it. And Lady Annabel; it seems to me your mother is more
+youthful and beautiful than ever. There is a spell in our air,'
+continued his lordship, with a laughing eye; 'for if we have changed,
+Venetia, ours is, at least, an alteration that bears no sign of decay.
+We are advancing, but they have not declined; we are all enchanted.'
+
+'I feel changed,' said Venetia gravely.
+
+'I left you a child and I find you a woman,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'a
+change which who can regret?'
+
+'I would I were a child again,' said Venetia.
+
+'We were happy,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a thoughtful tone; and then in
+an inquiring voice he added, 'and so we are now?'
+
+Venetia shook her head.
+
+'Can you be unhappy?'
+
+'To be unhappy would be wicked,' said Venetia; 'but my mind has lost
+its spring.'
+
+'Ah! say not so, Venetia, or you will make even me gloomy. I am happy,
+positively happy. There must not be a cloud upon your brow.'
+
+'You are joyous,' said Venetia, 'because you are excited. It is the
+novelty of return that animates you. It will wear off; you will grow
+weary, and when you go to the university you will think yourself happy
+again.'
+
+'I do not intend to go to the university,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I understood from you that you were going there immediately.'
+
+'My plans are changed,' said Cadurcis; 'I do not intend ever to leave
+home again.'
+
+'When you go to Cambridge,' said Dr. Masham, who just then reached
+them, 'I shall trouble you with a letter to an old friend of mine
+whose acquaintance you may find valuable.'
+
+Venetia smiled; Cadurcis bowed, expressed his thanks, and muttered
+something about talking over the subject with the Doctor.
+
+After this the conversation became general, and at length they all
+returned to the house to partake of the Doctor's hospitality, who
+promised to dine at the hall on the morrow. The ride home was
+agreeable and animated, but the conversation on the part of the ladies
+was principally maintained by Lady Annabel, who seemed every moment
+more delighted with the society of Lord Cadurcis, and to sympathise
+every instant more completely with his frank exposition of his
+opinions on all subjects. When they returned to Cherbury, Cadurcis
+remained with them as a matter of course. An invitation was neither
+expected nor given. Not an allusion was made to the sports of the
+field, to enjoy which was the original purpose of his visit to the
+abbey; and he spoke of to-morrow as of a period which, as usual, was
+to be spent entirely in their society. He remained with them, as on
+the previous night, to the latest possible moment. Although reserved
+in society, no one could be more fluent with those with whom he was
+perfectly unembarrassed. He was indeed exceedingly entertaining, and
+Lady Annabel relaxed into conversation beyond her custom. As for
+Venetia, she did not speak often, but she listened with interest, and
+was evidently amused. When Cadurcis bade them good-night Lady Annabel
+begged him to breakfast with them; while Venetia, serene, though kind,
+neither seconded the invitation, nor seemed interested one way or the
+other in its result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Except returning to sleep at the abbey, Lord Cadurcis was now as much
+an habitual inmate of Cherbury Hall as in the days of his childhood.
+He was there almost with the lark, and never quitted its roof until
+its inmates were about to retire for the night. His guns and dogs,
+which had been sent down from London with so much pomp of preparation,
+were unused and unnoticed; and he passed his days in reading
+Richardson's novels, which he had brought with him from town, to the
+ladies, and then in riding with them about the country, for he loved
+to visit all his old haunts, and trace even the very green sward
+where he first met the gipsies, and fancied that he had achieved his
+emancipation from all the coming cares and annoyances of the world.
+In this pleasant life several weeks had glided away: Cadurcis had
+entirely resumed his old footing in the family, nor did he attempt to
+conceal the homage he was paying to the charms of Venetia. She indeed
+seemed utterly unconscious that such projects had entered, or indeed
+could enter, the brain of her old playfellow, with whom, now that
+she was habituated to his presence, and revived by his inspiriting
+society, she had resumed all her old familiar intimacy, addressing him
+by his Christian name, as if he had never ceased to be her brother.
+But Lady Annabel was not so blind as her daughter, and had indeed her
+vision been as clouded, her faithful minister, Mistress Pauncefort,
+would have taken care quickly to couch it; for a very short time had
+elapsed before that vigilant gentlewoman, resolved to convince her
+mistress that nothing could escape her sleepless scrutiny, and that it
+was equally in vain for her mistress to hope to possess any secrets
+without her participation, seized a convenient opportunity before she
+bid her lady good night, just to inquire 'when it might be expected to
+take place?' and in reply to the very evident astonishment which Lady
+Annabel testified at this question, and the expression of her extreme
+displeasure at any conversation on a circumstance for which there
+was not the slightest foundation, Mistress Pauncefort, after duly
+flouncing about with every possible symbol of pettish agitation and
+mortified curiosity, her cheek pale with hesitating impertinence, and
+her nose quivering with inquisitiveness, condescended to admit with a
+sceptical sneer, that, of course, no doubt her ladyship knew more of
+such a subject than she could; it was not her place to know anything
+of such business; for her part she said nothing; it was not her
+place, but if it were, she certainly must say that she could not help
+believing that my lord was looking remarkably sweet on Miss Venetia,
+and what was more, everybody in the house thought the same, though for
+her part, whenever they mentioned the circumstance to her, she said
+nothing, or bid them hold their tongues, for what was it to them; it
+was not their business, and they could know nothing; and that nothing
+would displease her ladyship more than chattering on such subjects,
+and many's the match as good as finished, that's gone off by no worse
+means than the chitter-chatter of those who should hold their tongues.
+Therefore she should say no more; but if her ladyship wished her to
+contradict it, why she could, and the sooner, perhaps, the better.
+
+Lady Annabel observed to her that she wished no such thing, but
+she desired that Pauncefort would make no more observations on the
+subject, either to her or to any one else. And then Pauncefort bade
+her ladyship good night in a huff, catching up her candle with a
+rather impertinent jerk, and gently slamming the door, as if she had
+meant to close it quietly, only it had escaped out of her fingers.
+
+Whatever might be the tone, whether of surprise or displeasure, which
+Lady Annabel thought fit to assume to her attendant on her noticing
+Lord Cadurcis' attentions to her daughter, there is no doubt that
+his conduct had early and long engaged her ladyship's remark, her
+consideration, and her approval. Without meditating indeed an
+immediate union between Cadurcis and Venetia, Lady Annabel pleased
+herself with the prospect of her daughter's eventual marriage with one
+whom she had known so early and so intimately; who was by nature of a
+gentle, sincere, and affectionate disposition, and in whom education
+had carefully instilled the most sound and laudable principles and
+opinions; one apparently with simple tastes, moderate desires, fair
+talents, a mind intelligent, if not brilliant, and passions which at
+the worst had been rather ill-regulated than violent; attached also
+to Venetia from her childhood, and always visibly affected by her
+influence. All these moral considerations seemed to offer a fair
+security for happiness; and the material ones were neither less
+promising, nor altogether disregarded by the mother. It was an union
+which would join broad lands and fair estates; which would place on
+the brow of her daughter one of the most ancient coronets in England;
+and, which indeed was the chief of these considerations, would,
+without exposing Venetia to that contaminating contact with the
+world from which Lady Annabel recoiled, establish her, without this
+initiatory and sorrowful experience, in a position superior to which
+even the blood of the Herberts, though it might flow in so fair and
+gifted a form as that of Venetia, need not aspire.
+
+Lord Cadurcis had not returned to Cherbury a week before this scheme
+entered into the head of Lady Annabel. She had always liked him; had
+always given him credit for good qualities; had always believed that
+his early defects were the consequence of his mother's injudicious
+treatment; and that at heart he was an amiable, generous, and
+trustworthy being, one who might be depended on, with a naturally good
+judgment, and substantial and sufficient talents, which only required
+cultivation. When she met him again after so long an interval, and
+found her early prognostics so fairly, so completely fulfilled, and
+watched his conduct and conversation, exhibiting alike a well-informed
+mind, an obliging temper, and, what Lady Annabel valued even above all
+gifts and blessings, a profound conviction of the truth of all her own
+opinions, moral, political, and religious, she was quite charmed; she
+was moved to unusual animation; she grew excited in his praise; his
+presence delighted her; she entertained for him the warmest affection,
+and reposed in him unbounded confidence. All her hopes became
+concentred in the wish of seeing him her son-in-law; and she detected
+with lively satisfaction the immediate impression which Venetia had
+made upon his heart; for indeed it should not be forgotten, that
+although Lady Annabel was still young, and although her frame and
+temperament were alike promising of a long life, it was natural, when
+she reflected upon the otherwise lone condition of her daughter, that
+she should tremble at the thought of quitting this world without
+leaving her child a protector. To Doctor Masham, from whom Lady
+Annabel had no secrets, she confided in time these happy but covert
+hopes, and he was not less anxious than herself for their fulfilment.
+Since the return of Cadurcis the Doctor contrived to be a more
+frequent visitor at the hall than usual, and he lost no opportunity of
+silently advancing the object of his friend.
+
+As for Cadurcis himself, it was impossible for him not quickly to
+discover that no obstacle to his heart's dearest wish would arise on
+the part of the parent. The demeanour of the daughter somewhat more
+perplexed him. Venetia indeed had entirely fallen into her old habits
+of intimacy and frankness with Plantagenet; she was as affectionate
+and as unembarrassed as in former days, and almost as gay; for his
+presence and companionship had in a great degree insensibly removed
+that stillness and gravity which had gradually influenced her mind and
+conduct. But in that conduct there was, and he observed it with some
+degree of mortification, a total absence of the consciousness of being
+the object of the passionate admiration of another. She treated Lord
+Cadurcis as a brother she much loved, who had returned to his home
+after a long absence. She liked to listen to his conversation, to hear
+of his adventures, to consult over his plans. His arrival called
+a smile to her face, and his departure for the night was always
+alleviated by some allusion to their meeting on the morrow. But many
+an ardent gaze on the part of Cadurcis, and many a phrase of emotion,
+passed unnoticed and unappreciated. His gallantry was entirely
+thrown away, or, if observed, only occasioned a pretty stare at the
+unnecessary trouble he gave himself, or the strange ceremony which
+she supposed an acquaintance with society had taught him. Cadurcis
+attributed this reception of his veiled and delicate overtures to
+her ignorance of the world; and though he sighed for as passionate
+a return to his strong feelings as the sentiments which animated
+himself, he was on the whole not displeased, but rather interested, by
+these indications of a pure and unsophisticated spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis had proposed, and Lady Annabel had seconded the proposition
+with eager satisfaction, that they should seek some day at the abbey
+whatever hospitality it might offer; Dr. Masham was to be of the
+party, which was, indeed, one of those fanciful expeditions where the
+same companions, though they meet at all times without restraint
+and with every convenience of life, seek increased amusement in the
+novelty of a slight change of habits. With the aid of the neighbouring
+town of Southport, Cadurcis had made preparations for his friends not
+entirely unworthy of them, though he affected to the last all the
+air of a conductor of a wild expedition of discovery, and laughingly
+impressed upon them the necessity of steeling their minds and bodies
+to the experience and endurance of the roughest treatment and the most
+severe hardships.
+
+The morning of this eventful day broke as beautifully as the preceding
+ones. Autumn had seldom been more gorgeous than this year. Although he
+was to play the host, Cadurcis would not deprive himself of his usual
+visit to the hall; and he appeared there at an early hour to accompany
+his guests, who were to ride over to the abbey, to husband all their
+energies for their long rambles through the demesne.
+
+Cadurcis was in high spirits, and Lady Annabel scarcely less
+joyous. Venetia smiled with her usual sweetness and serenity. They
+congratulated each other on the charming season; and Mistress
+Pauncefort received a formal invitation to join the party and go
+a-nutting with one of her fellow-servants and his lordship's valet.
+The good Doctor was rather late, but he arrived at last on his stout
+steed, in his accustomed cheerful mood. Here was a party of pleasure
+which all agreed must be pleasant; no strangers to amuse, or to be
+amusing, but formed merely of four human beings who spent every day of
+their lives in each other's society, between whom there was the most
+complete sympathy and the most cordial good-will.
+
+By noon they were all mounted on their steeds, and though the air was
+warmed by a meridian sun shining in a clear sky, there was a gentle
+breeze abroad, sweet and grateful; and moreover they soon entered the
+wood and enjoyed the shelter of its verdant shade. The abbey looked
+most picturesque when they first burst upon it; the nearer and wooded
+hills, which formed its immediate background, just tinted by the
+golden pencil of autumn, while the meads of the valley were still
+emerald green; and the stream, now lost, now winding, glittered
+here and there in the sun, and gave a life and sprightliness to the
+landscape which exceeded even the effect of the more distant and
+expansive lake.
+
+They were received at the abbey by Mistress Pauncefort, who had
+preceded them, and who welcomed them with a complacent smile. Cadurcis
+hastened to assist Lady Annabel to dismount, and was a little confused
+but very pleased when she assured him she needed no assistance but
+requested him to take care of Venetia. He was just in time to receive
+her in his arms, where she found herself without the slightest
+embarrassment. The coolness of the cloisters was grateful after their
+ride, and they lingered and looked upon the old fountain, and felt the
+freshness of its fall with satisfaction which all alike expressed.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia then retired for a while to free themselves
+from their riding habits, and Cadurcis affectionately taking the arm
+of Dr. Masham led him a few paces, and then almost involuntarily
+exclaimed, 'My dear Doctor, I think I am the happiest fellow that ever
+lived!'
+
+'That I trust you may always be, my dear boy,' said Dr. Masham; 'but
+what has called forth this particular exclamation?'
+
+'To feel that I am once more at Cadurcis; to feel that I am here once
+more with you all; to feel that I never shall leave you again.'
+
+'Not again?'
+
+'Never!' said Cadurcis. 'The experience of these last few weeks, which
+yet have seemed an age in my existence, has made me resolve never to
+quit a society where I am persuaded I may obtain a degree of happiness
+which what is called the world can never afford me.'
+
+'What will your guardian say?'
+
+'What care I?'
+
+'A dutiful ward!'
+
+'Poh! the relations between us were formed only to secure my welfare.
+It is secured; it will be secured by my own resolution.'
+
+'And what is that?' inquired Dr. Masham.
+
+'To marry Venetia, if she will accept me.'
+
+'And that you do not doubt.'
+
+'We doubt everything when everything is at stake,' replied Lord
+Cadurcis. 'I know that her consent would ensure my happiness; and when
+I reflect, I cannot help being equally persuaded that it would secure
+hers. Her mother, I think, would not be adverse to our union. And you,
+my dear sir, what do you think?'
+
+'I think,' said Dr. Masham, 'that whoever marries Venetia will marry
+the most beautiful and the most gifted of God's creatures; I hope you
+may marry her; I wish you to marry her; I believe you will marry her,
+but not yet; you are too young, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Oh, no! my dear Doctor, not too young to marry Venetia. Remember I
+have known her all my life, at least so long as I have been able to
+form an opinion. How few are the men, my dear Doctor, who are so
+fortunate as to unite themselves with women whom they have known, as I
+have known Venetia, for more than seven long years!'
+
+'During five of which you have never seen or heard of her.'
+
+'Mine was the fault! And yet I cannot help thinking, as it may
+probably turn out, as you yourself believe it will turn out, that
+it is as well that we have been separated for this interval. It has
+afforded me opportunities for observation which I should never have
+enjoyed at Cadurcis; and although my lot either way could not have
+altered the nature of things, I might have been discontented, I might
+have sighed for a world which now I do not value. It is true I have
+not seen Venetia for five years, but I find her the same, or changed
+only by nature, and fulfilling all the rich promise which her
+childhood intimated. No, my dear Doctor, I respect your opinion more
+than that of any man living; but nobody, nothing, can persuade me that
+I am not as intimately acquainted with Venetia's character, with all
+her rare virtues, as if we had never separated.'
+
+'I do not doubt it,' said the Doctor; 'high as you may pitch your
+estimate you cannot overvalue her.'
+
+'Then why should we not marry?'
+
+'Because, my dear friend, although you may be perfectly acquainted
+with Venetia, you cannot be perfectly acquainted with yourself.'
+
+'How so?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis in a tone of surprise, perhaps a
+little indignant.
+
+'Because it is impossible. No young man of eighteen ever possessed
+such precious knowledge. I esteem and admire you; I give you every
+credit for a good heart and a sound head; but it is impossible, at
+your time of life, that your character can be formed; and, until it
+be, you may marry Venetia and yet be a very miserable man.'
+
+'It is formed,' said his lordship firmly; 'there is not a subject
+important to a human being on which my opinions are not settled.'
+
+'You may live to change them all,' said the Doctor, 'and that very
+speedily.'
+
+'Impossible!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'My dear Doctor, I cannot understand
+you; you say that you hope, that you wish, even that you believe that
+I shall marry Venetia; and yet you permit me to infer that our union
+will only make us miserable. What do you wish me to do?'
+
+'Go to college for a term or two.'
+
+'Without Venetia! I should die.'
+
+'Well, if you be in a dying state you can return.'
+
+'You joke, my dear Doctor.'
+
+'My dear boy, I am perfectly serious.'
+
+'But she may marry somebody else?'
+
+'I am your only rival,' said the Doctor, with a smile; 'and though
+even friends can scarcely be trusted under such circumstances, I
+promise you not to betray you.'
+
+'Your advice is not very pleasant,' said his lordship.
+
+'Good advice seldom is,' said the Doctor.
+
+'My dear Doctor, I have made up my mind to marry her, and marry her at
+once. I know her well, you admit that yourself. I do not believe that
+there ever was a woman like her, that there ever will be a woman like
+her. Nature has marked her out from other women, and her education
+has not been less peculiar. Her mystic breeding pleases me. It
+is something to marry a wife so fair, so pure, so refined, so
+accomplished, who is, nevertheless, perfectly ignorant of the world.
+I have dreamt of such things; I have paced these old cloisters when a
+boy and when I was miserable at home, and I have had visions, and
+this was one. I have sighed to live alone with a fair spirit for my
+minister. Venetia has descended from heaven for me, and for me alone.
+I am resolved I will pluck this flower with the dew upon its leaves.'
+
+'I did not know I was reasoning with a poet,' said the Doctor, with a
+smile. 'Had I been conscious of it, I would not have been so rash.'
+
+'I have not a grain of poetry in my composition,' said his lordship;
+'I never could write a verse; I was notorious at Eton for begging all
+their old manuscripts from boys when they left school, to crib from;
+but I have a heart, and I can feel. I love Venetia, I have always
+loved her, and, if possible, I will marry her, and marry her at once.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The reappearance of the ladies at the end of the cloister terminated
+this conversation, the result of which was rather to confirm Lord
+Cadurcis in his resolution of instantly urging his suit, than the
+reverse. He ran forward to greet his friends with a smile, and took
+his place by the side of Venetia, whom, a little to her surprise, he
+congratulated in glowing phrase on her charming costume. Indeed she
+looked very captivating, with a pastoral hat, then much in fashion,
+and a dress as simple and as sylvan, both showing to admirable
+advantage her long descending hair, and her agile and springy figure.
+
+Cadurcis proposed that they should ramble over the abbey, he talked of
+projected alterations, as if he really had the power immediately to
+effect them, and was desirous of obtaining their opinions before any
+change was made. So they ascended the staircase which many years
+before Venetia had mounted for the first time with her mother, and
+entered that series of small and ill-furnished rooms in which Mrs.
+Cadurcis had principally resided, and which had undergone no change.
+The old pictures were examined; these, all agreed, never must move;
+and the new furniture, it was settled, must be in character with the
+building. Lady Annabel entered into all the details with an interest
+and animation which rather amused Dr. Masham. Venetia listened and
+suggested, and responded to the frequent appeals of Cadurcis to her
+judgment with an unconscious equanimity not less diverting.
+
+'Now here we really can do something,' said his lordship as they
+entered the saloon, or rather refectory; 'here I think we may effect
+wonders. The tapestry must always remain. Is it not magnificent,
+Venetia? But what hangings shall we have? We must keep the old chairs,
+I think. Do you approve of the old chairs, Venetia? And what shall we
+cover them with? Shall it be damask? What do you think, Venetia? Do
+you like damask? And what colour shall it be? Shall it be crimson?
+Shall it be crimson damask, Lady Annabel? Do you think Venetia would
+like crimson damask? Now, Venetia, do give us the benefit of your
+opinion.'
+
+Then they entered the old gallery; here was to be a great
+transformation. Marvels were to be effected in the old gallery,
+and many and multiplied were the appeals to the taste and fancy of
+Venetia.
+
+'I think,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I shall leave the gallery to be
+arranged when I am settled. The rooms and the saloon shall be done at
+once, I shall give orders for them to begin instantly. Whom do you
+recommend, Lady Annabel? Do you think there is any person at Southport
+who could manage to do it, superintended by our taste? Venetia, what
+do you think?'
+
+Venetia was standing at the window, rather apart from her companions,
+looking at the old garden. Lord Cadurcis joined her. 'Ah! it has been
+sadly neglected since my poor mother's time. We could not do much in
+those days, but still she loved this garden. I must depend upon you
+entirely to arrange my garden, Venetia. This spot is sacred to you.
+You have not forgotten our labours here, have you, Venetia? Ah! those
+were happy days, and these shall be more happy still. This is your
+garden; it shall always be called Venetia's garden.'
+
+'I would have taken care of it when you were away, but--'
+
+'But what?' inquired Lord Cadurcis anxiously.
+
+'We hardly felt authorised,' replied Venetia calmly. 'We came at first
+when you left Cadurcis, but at last it did not seem that our presence
+was very acceptable.'
+
+'The brutes!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'No, no; good simple people, they were unused to orders from strange
+masters, and they were perplexed. Besides, we had no right to
+interfere.'
+
+'No right to interfere! Venetia, my little fellow-labourer, no
+right to interfere! Why all is yours! Fancy your having no right to
+interfere at Cadurcis!'
+
+Then they proceeded to the park and wandered to the margin of the
+lake. There was not a spot, not an object, which did not recall
+some adventure or incident of childhood. Every moment Lord Cadurcis
+exclaimed, 'Venetia! do you remember this?' 'Venetia! have you
+forgotten that?' and every time Venetia smiled, and proved how
+faithful was her memory by adding some little unmentioned trait to the
+lively reminiscences of her companion.
+
+'Well, after all,' said Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'my poor mother was
+a strange woman, and, God bless her! used sometimes to worry me out
+of my senses! but still she always loved you. No one can deny that.
+Cherbury was a magic name with her. She loved Lady Annabel, and she
+loved you, Venetia. It ran in the blood, you see. She would be happy,
+quite happy, if she saw us all here together, and if she knew--'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Lady Annabel, 'you must build a lodge at this
+end of the park. I cannot conceive anything more effective than an
+entrance from the Southport road in this quarter.'
+
+'Certainly, Lady Annabel, certainly we must build a lodge. Do not you
+think so, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed I think it would be a great improvement,' replied Venetia;
+'but you must take care to have a lodge in character with the abbey.'
+
+'You shall make a drawing for it,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'it shall be
+built directly, and it shall be called Venetia Lodge.'
+
+The hours flew away, loitering in the park, roaming in the woods. They
+met Mistress Pauncefort and her friends loaded with plunder, and they
+offered to Venetia a trophy of their success; but when Venetia, merely
+to please their kind hearts, accepted their tribute with cordiality,
+and declared there was nothing she liked better, Lord Cadurcis would
+not be satisfied unless he immediately commenced nutting, and each
+moment he bore to Venetia the produce of his sport, till in time she
+could scarcely sustain the rich and increasing burden. At length they
+bent their steps towards home, sufficiently wearied to look forward
+with welcome to rest and their repast, yet not fatigued, and
+exhilarated by the atmosphere, for the sun was now in its decline,
+though in this favoured season there were yet hours enough remaining
+of enchanting light.
+
+In the refectory they found, to the surprise of all but their host, a
+banquet. It was just one of those occasions when nothing is
+expected and everything is welcome and surprising; when, from the
+unpremeditated air generally assumed, all preparation startles and
+pleases; when even ladies are not ashamed to eat, and formality
+appears quite banished. Game of all kinds, teal from the lake,
+and piles of beautiful fruit, made the table alike tempting and
+picturesque. Then there were stray bottles of rare wine disinterred
+from venerable cellars; and, more inspiriting even than the choice
+wine, a host under the influence of every emotion, and swayed by every
+circumstance that can make a man happy and delightful. Oh! they were
+very gay, and it seemed difficult to believe that care or sorrow,
+or the dominion of dark or ungracious passions, could ever disturb
+sympathies so complete and countenances so radiant.
+
+At the urgent request of Cadurcis, Venetia sang to them; and while she
+sang, the expression of her countenance and voice harmonising with the
+arch hilarity of the subject, Plantagenet for a moment believed that
+he beheld the little Venetia of his youth, that sunny child so full
+of mirth and grace, the very recollection of whose lively and bright
+existence might enliven the gloomiest hour and lighten the heaviest
+heart.
+
+Enchanted by all that surrounded him, full of hope, and joy, and
+plans of future felicity, emboldened by the kindness of the daughter,
+Cadurcis now ventured to urge a request to Lady Annabel, and the
+request was granted, for all seemed to feel that it was a day on which
+nothing was to be refused to their friend. Happy Cadurcis! The child
+had a holiday, and it fancied itself a man enjoying a triumph. In
+compliance, therefore, with his wish, it was settled that they should
+all walk back to the hall; even Dr. Masham declared he was competent
+to the exertion, but perhaps was half entrapped into the declaration
+by the promise of a bed at Cherbury. This consent enchanted Cadurcis,
+who looked forward with exquisite pleasure to the evening walk with
+Venetia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Although the sun had not set, it had sunk behind the hills leading
+to Cherbury when our friends quitted the abbey. Cadurcis, without
+hesitation, offered his arm to Venetia, and whether from a secret
+sympathy with his wishes, or merely from some fortunate accident, Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham strolled on before without busying themselves
+too earnestly with their companions.
+
+'And how do you think our expedition to Cadurcis has turned out?'
+inquired the young lord, of Venetia, 'Has it been successful?'
+
+'It has been one of the most agreeable days I ever passed,' was the
+reply.
+
+'Then it has been successful,' rejoined his lordship; 'for my only
+wish was to amuse you.'
+
+'I think we have all been equally amused,' said Venetia. 'I never knew
+mamma in such good spirits. I think ever since you returned she has
+been unusually light-hearted.'
+
+'And you: has my return lightened only her heart, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed it has contributed to the happiness of every one.'
+
+'And yet, when I first returned, I heard you utter a complaint; the
+first that to my knowledge ever escaped your lips.'
+
+'Ah! we cannot be always equally gay.'
+
+'Once you were, dear Venetia.'
+
+'I was a child then.'
+
+'And I, I too was a child; yet I am happy, at least now that I am with
+you.'
+
+'Well, we are both happy now.'
+
+'Oh! say that again, say that again, Venetia; for indeed you made me
+miserable when you told me that you had changed. I cannot bear that
+you, Venetia, should ever change.'
+
+'It is the course of nature, Plantagenet; we all change, everything
+changes. This day that was so bright is changing fast.'
+
+'The stars are as beautiful as the sun, Venetia.'
+
+'And what do you infer?'
+
+'That Venetia, a woman, is as beautiful as Venetia, a little girl; and
+should be as happy.'
+
+'Is beauty happiness, Plantagenet?'
+
+'It makes others happy, Venetia; and when we make others happy we
+should be happy ourselves.'
+
+'Few depend upon my influence, and I trust all of them are happy.'
+
+'No one depends upon your influence more than I do.'
+
+'Well, then, be happy always.'
+
+'Would that I might! Ah, Venetia! can I ever forget old days? You were
+the solace of my dark childhood; you were the charm that first taught
+me existence was enjoyment. Before I came to Cherbury I never was
+happy, and since that hour--Ah, Venetia! dear, dearest Venetia! who is
+like to you?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, you were always too kind to me. Would we were
+children once more!'
+
+'Nay, my own Venetia! you tell me everything changes, and we must not
+murmur at the course of nature. I would not have our childhood back
+again, even with all its joys, for there are others yet in store for
+us, not less pure, not less beautiful. We loved each other then,
+Venetia, and we love each other now.'
+
+'My feelings towards you have never changed, Plantagenet; I heard
+of you always with interest, and I met you again with heartfelt
+pleasure.'
+
+'Oh, that morning! Have you forgotten that morning? Do you know, you
+will smile very much, but I really believe that I expected to see my
+Venetia still a little girl, the very same who greeted me when I first
+arrived with my mother and behaved so naughtily! And when I saw you,
+and found what you had become, and what I ought always to have known
+you must become, I was so confused I entirely lost my presence of
+mind. You must have thought me very awkward, very stupid?'
+
+'Indeed, I was rather gratified by observing that you could not meet
+us again without emotion. I thought it told well for your heart, which
+I always believed to be most kind, at least, I am sure, to us.'
+
+'Kind! oh, Venetia! that word but ill describes what my heart ever
+was, what it now is, to you. Venetia! dearest, sweetest Venetia!
+can you doubt for a moment my feelings towards your home, and what
+influence must principally impel them? Am I so dull, or you so blind,
+Venetia? Can I not express, can you not discover how much, how
+ardently, how fondly, how devotedly, I, I, I love you?'
+
+'I am sure we always loved each other, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Yes! but not with this love; not as I love you now!'
+
+Venetia stared.
+
+'I thought we could not love each other more than we did,
+Plantagenet,' at length she said. 'Do you remember the jewel that you
+gave me? I always wore it until you seemed to forget us, and then I
+thought it looked so foolish! You remember what is inscribed on it:
+'TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.' And as a
+brother I always loved you; had I indeed been your sister I could not
+have loved you more warmly and more truly.'
+
+'I am not your brother, Venetia; I wish not to be loved as a brother:
+and yet I must be loved by you, or I shall die.'
+
+'What then do you wish?' inquired Venetia, with great simplicity.
+
+'I wish you to marry me,' replied Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry!' exclaimed Venetia, with a face of wonder. 'Marry! Marry you!
+Marry you, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Ay! is that so wonderful? I love you, and if you love me, why should
+we not marry?'
+
+Venetia was silent and looked upon the ground, not from agitation,
+for she was quite calm, but in thought; and then she said, 'I never
+thought of marriage in my life, Plantagenet; I have no intention, no
+wish to marry; I mean to live always with mamma.'
+
+'And you shall always live with mamma, but that need not prevent you
+from marrying me,' he replied. 'Do not we all live together now? What
+will it signify if you dwell at Cadurcis and Lady Annabel at Cherbury?
+Is it not one home? But at any rate, this point shall not be an
+obstacle; for if it please you we will all live at Cherbury.'
+
+'You say that we are happy now, Plantagenet; oh! let us remain as we
+are.'
+
+'My own sweet girl, my sister, if you please, any title, so it be one
+of fondness, your sweet simplicity charms me; but, believe me, it
+cannot be as you wish; we cannot remain as we are unless we marry.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because I shall be wretched and must live elsewhere, if indeed I can
+live at all.'
+
+'Oh, Plantagenet! indeed I thought you were my brother; when I found
+you after so long a separation as kind as in old days, and kinder
+still, I was so glad; I was so sure you loved me; I thought I had the
+kindest brother in the world. Let us not talk of any other love. It
+will, indeed it will, make mamma so miserable!'
+
+'I am greatly mistaken,' replied Lord Cadurcis, who saw no obstacles
+to his hopes in their conversation hitherto, 'if, on the contrary, our
+union would not prove far from disagreeable to your mother, Venetia; I
+will say our mother, for indeed to me she has been one.'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Venetia, in a very earnest tone, 'I love you
+very much; but, if you love me, press me on this subject no more at
+present. You have surprised, indeed you have bewildered me. There are
+thoughts, there are feelings, there are considerations, that must be
+respected, that must influence me. Nay! do not look so sorrowful,
+Plantagenet. Let us be happy now. To-morrow, only to-morrow, and
+to-morrow we are sure to meet, we will speak further of all this; but
+now, now, for a moment let us forget it, if we can forget anything so
+strange. Nay! you shall smile!'
+
+He did. Who could resist that mild and winning glance! And indeed Lord
+Cadurcis was scarcely disappointed, and not at all mortified at his
+reception, or, as he esteemed it, the progress of his suit. The
+conduct of Venetia he attributed entirely to her unsophisticated
+nature and the timidity of a virgin soul. It made him prize even more
+dearly the treasure that he believed awaited him. Silent, then, though
+for a time they both struggled to speak on different subjects, silent,
+and almost content, Cadurcis proceeded, with the arm of Venetia locked
+in his and ever and anon unconsciously pressing it to his heart. The
+rosy twilight had faded away, the stars were stealing forth, and the
+moon again glittered. With a soul softer than the tinted shades of eve
+and glowing like the heavens, Cadurcis joined his companions as they
+entered the gardens of Cherbury. When they had arrived at home it
+seemed that exhaustion had suddenly succeeded all the excitement
+of the day. The Doctor, who was wearied, retired immediately. Lady
+Annabel pressed Cadurcis to remain and take tea, or, at least to ride
+home; but his lordship, protesting that he was not in the slightest
+degree fatigued, and anticipating their speedy union on the morrow,
+bade her good night, and pressing with fondness the hand of Venetia,
+retraced his steps to the now solitary abbey.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Cadurcis returned to the abbey, but not to slumber. That love of
+loneliness which had haunted him from his boyhood, and which ever
+asserted its sway when under the influence of his passions, came over
+him now with irresistible power. A day of enjoyment had terminated,
+and it left him melancholy. Hour after hour he paced the moon-lit
+cloisters of his abbey, where not a sound disturbed him, save the
+monotonous fall of the fountain, that seems by some inexplicable
+association always to blend with and never to disturb our feelings;
+gay when we are joyful, and sad amid our sorrow.
+
+Yet was he sorrowful! He was gloomy, and fell into a reverie about
+himself, a subject to him ever perplexing and distressing. His
+conversation of the morning with Doctor Masham recurred to him. What
+did the Doctor mean by his character not being formed, and that
+he might yet live to change all his opinions? Character! what was
+character? It must be will; and his will was violent and firm. Young
+as he was, he had early habituated himself to reflection, and the
+result of his musings had been a desire to live away from the world
+with those he loved. The world, as other men viewed it, had no charms
+for him. Its pursuits and passions seemed to him on the whole paltry
+and faint. He could sympathise with great deeds, but not with bustling
+life. That which was common did not please him. He loved things that
+were rare and strange; and the spell that bound him so strongly to
+Venetia Herbert was her unusual life, and the singular circumstances
+of her destiny that were not unknown to him. True he was young;
+but, lord of himself, youth was associated with none of those
+mortifications which make the juvenile pant for manhood. Cadurcis
+valued his youth and treasured it. He could not conceive love, and the
+romantic life that love should lead, without the circumambient charm
+of youth adding fresh lustre to all that was bright and fair, and a
+keener relish to every combination of enjoyment. The moonbeam fell
+upon his mother's monument, a tablet on the cloister wall that
+recorded the birth and death of KATHERINE CADURCIS. His thoughts flew
+to his ancestry. They had conquered in France and Palestine, and left
+a memorable name to the annalist of his country. Those days were past,
+and yet Cadurcis felt within him the desire, perhaps the power, of
+emulating them; but what remained? What career was open in this
+mechanical age to the chivalric genius of his race? Was he misplaced
+then in life? The applause of nations, there was something grand and
+exciting in such a possession. To be the marvel of mankind what would
+he not hazard? Dreams, dreams! If his ancestors were valiant and
+celebrated it remained for him to rival, to excel them, at least in
+one respect. Their coronet had never rested on a brow fairer than
+the one for which he destined it. Venetia then, independently of his
+passionate love, was the only apparent object worth his pursuit, the
+only thing in this world that had realised his dreams, dreams sacred
+to his own musing soul, that even she had never shared or guessed. And
+she, she was to be his. He could not doubt it: but to-morrow would
+decide; to-morrow would seal his triumph.
+
+His sleep was short and restless; he had almost out-watched the stars,
+and yet he rose with the early morn. His first thought was of Venetia;
+he was impatient for the interview, the interview she promised and
+even proposed. The fresh air was grateful to him; he bounded along to
+Cherbury, and brushed the dew in his progress from the tall grass and
+shrubs. In sight of the hall, he for a moment paused. He was before
+his accustomed hour; and yet he was always too soon. Not to-day,
+though, not to-day; suddenly he rushes forward and springs down the
+green vista, for Venetia is on the terrace, and alone!
+
+Always kind, this morning she greeted him with unusual affection.
+Never had she seemed to him so exquisitely beautiful. Perhaps her
+countenance to-day was more pale than wont. There seemed a softness in
+her eyes usually so brilliant and even dazzling; the accents of her
+salutation were suppressed and tender.
+
+'I thought you would be here early,' she remarked, 'and therefore I
+rose to meet you.'
+
+Was he to infer from this artless confession that his image had
+haunted her in her dreams, or only that she would not delay the
+conversation on which his happiness depended? He could scarcely doubt
+which version to adopt when she took his arm and led him from the
+terrace to walk where they could not be disturbed.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'for indeed you are very dear to me; I
+told you last night that I would speak to you to-day on your wishes,
+that are so kind to me and so much intended for my happiness. I do not
+love suspense; but indeed last night I was too much surprised, too
+much overcome by what occurred, that exhausted as I naturally was by
+all our pleasure, I could not tell you what I wished; indeed I could
+not, dear Plantagenet.'
+
+'My own Venetia!'
+
+'So I hope you will always deem me; for I should be very unhappy if
+you did not love me, Plantagenet, more unhappy than I have even been
+these last two years; and I have been very unhappy, very unhappy
+indeed, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Unhappy, Venetia! my Venetia unhappy?'
+
+'Listen! I will not weep. I can control my feelings. I have learnt to
+do this; it is very sad, and very different to what my life once was;
+but I can do it.'
+
+'You amaze me!'
+
+Venetia sighed, and then resumed, but in a tone mournful and low, and
+yet to a degree firm.
+
+'You have been away five years, Plantagenet.'
+
+'But you have pardoned that.'
+
+'I never blamed you; I had nothing to pardon. It was well for you to
+be away; and I rejoice your absence has been so profitable to you.'
+
+'But it was wicked to have been so silent.'
+
+'Oh! no, no, no! Such ideas never entered into my head, nor even
+mamma's. You were very young; you did as all would, as all must do.
+Harbour not such thoughts. Enough, you have returned and love us yet.'
+
+'Love! adore!'
+
+'Five years are a long space of time, Plantagenet. Events will happen
+in five years, even at Cherbury. I told you I was changed.'
+
+'Yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, in a voice of some anxiety, with a
+scrutinising eye.
+
+'You left me a happy child; you find me a woman, and a miserable one.'
+
+'Good God, Venetia! this suspense is awful. Be brief, I pray you. Has
+any one--'
+
+Venetia looked at him with an air of perplexity. She could not
+comprehend the idea that impelled his interruption.
+
+'Go on,' Lord Cadurcis added, after a short pause; 'I am indeed all
+anxiety.'
+
+'You remember that Christmas which you passed at the hall and walking
+at night in the gallery, and--'
+
+'Well! Your mother, I shall never forget it.'
+
+'You found her weeping when you were once at Marringhurst. You told me
+of it.'
+
+'Ay, ay!'
+
+'There is a wing of our house shut up. We often talked of it.'
+
+'Often, Venetia; it was a mystery.'
+
+'I have penetrated it,' replied Venetia in a solemn tone; 'and never
+have I known what happiness is since.'
+
+'Yes, yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, very pale, and in a whisper.
+
+'Plantagenet, I have a father.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis started, and for an instant his arm quitted Venetia's.
+At length he said in a gloomy voice, 'I know it.'
+
+'Know it!' exclaimed Venetia with astonishment. 'Who could have told
+you the secret?'
+
+'It is no secret,' replied Cadurcis; 'would that it were!'
+
+'Would that it were! How strange you speak, how strange you look,
+Plantagenet! If it be no secret that I have a father, why this
+concealment then? I know that I am not the child of shame!' she added,
+after a moment's pause, with an air of pride. A tear stole down the
+cheek of Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet! dear, good Plantagenet! my brother! my own brother! see,
+I kneel to you; Venetia kneels to you! your own Venetia! Venetia that
+you love! Oh! if you knew the load that is on my spirit bearing me
+down to a grave which I would almost welcome, you would speak to me;
+you would tell me all. I have sighed for this; I have longed for this;
+I have prayed for this. To meet some one who would speak to me of my
+father; who had heard of him, who knew him; has been for years the
+only thought of my being, the only object for which I existed. And
+now, here comes Plantagenet, my brother! my own brother! and he knows
+all, and he will tell me; yes, that he will; he will tell his Venetia
+all, all!'
+
+'Is there not your mother?' said Lord Cadurcis, in a broken tone.
+
+'Forbidden, utterly forbidden. If I speak, they tell me her heart will
+break; and therefore mine is breaking.'
+
+'Have you no friend?'
+
+'Are not you my friend?'
+
+'Doctor Masham?'
+
+'I have applied to him; he tells me that he lives, and then he shakes
+his head.'
+
+'You never saw your father; think not of him.'
+
+'Not think of him!' exclaimed Venetia, with extraordinary energy. 'Of
+what else? For what do I live but to think of him? What object have I
+in life but to see him? I have seen him, once.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'I know his form by heart, and yet it was but a shade. Oh, what a
+shade! what a glorious, what an immortal shade! If gods were upon
+earth they would be like my father!'
+
+'His deeds, at least, are not godlike,' observed Lord Cadurcis dryly,
+and with some bitterness.
+
+'I deny it!' said Venetia, her eyes sparkling with fire, her form
+dilated with enthusiasm, and involuntarily withdrawing her arm from
+her companion. Lord Cadurcis looked exceedingly astonished.
+
+'You deny it!' he exclaimed. 'And what should you know about it?'
+
+'Nature whispers to me that nothing but what is grand and noble could
+be breathed by those lips, or fulfilled by that form.'
+
+'I am glad you have not read his works,' said Lord Cadurcis, with
+increased bitterness. 'As for his conduct, your mother is a living
+evidence of his honour, his generosity, and his virtue.'
+
+'My mother!' said Venetia, in a softened voice; 'and yet he loved my
+mother!'
+
+'She was his victim, as a thousand others may have been.'
+
+'She is his wife!' replied Venetia, with some anxiety.
+
+'Yes, a deserted wife; is that preferable to being a cherished
+mistress? More honourable, but scarcely less humiliating.'
+
+'She must have misunderstood him,' said Venetia. 'I have perused the
+secret vows of his passion. I have read his praises of her beauty.
+I have pored over the music of his emotions when he first became a
+father; yes, he has gazed on me, even though but for a moment, with
+love! Over me he has breathed forth the hallowed blessing of a parent!
+That transcendent form has pressed his lips to mine, and held me with
+fondness to his heart! And shall I credit aught to his dishonour? Is
+there a being in existence who can persuade me he is heartless or
+abandoned? No! I love him! I adore him! I am devoted to him with all
+the energies of my being! I live only on the memory that he lives,
+and, were he to die, I should pray to my God that I might join him
+without delay in a world where it cannot be justice to separate a
+child from a father.'
+
+And this was Venetia! the fair, the serene Venetia! the young, the
+inexperienced Venetia! pausing, as it were, on the parting threshold
+of girlhood, whom, but a few hours since, he had fancied could
+scarcely have proved a passion; who appeared to him barely to
+comprehend the meaning of his advances; for whose calmness or whose
+coldness he had consoled himself by the flattering conviction of her
+unknowing innocence. Before him stood a beautiful and inspired Moenad,
+her eye flashing supernatural fire, her form elevated above her
+accustomed stature, defiance on her swelling brow, and passion on her
+quivering lip!
+
+Gentle and sensitive as Cadurcis ever appeared to those he loved,
+there was in his soul a deep and unfathomed well of passions that had
+been never stirred, and a bitter and mocking spirit in his brain, of
+which he was himself unconscious. He had repaired this hopeful morn to
+Cherbury to receive, as he believed, the plighted faith of a simple
+and affectionate, perhaps grateful, girl. That her unsophisticated and
+untutored spirit might not receive the advances of his heart with an
+equal and corresponding ardour, he was prepared. It pleased him
+that he should watch the gradual development of this bud of sweet
+affections, waiting, with proud anxiety, her fragrant and her
+full-blown love. But now it appeared that her coldness or her
+indifference might be ascribed to any other cause than the one to
+which he had attributed it, the innocence of an inexperienced mind.
+This girl was no stranger to powerful passions; she could love, and
+love with fervency, with devotion, with enthusiasm. This child of joy
+was a woman of deep and thoughtful sorrows, brooding in solitude over
+high resolves and passionate aspirations. Why were not the emotions
+of such a tumultuous soul excited by himself? To him she was calm and
+imperturbable; she called him brother, she treated him as a child. But
+a picture, a fantastic shade, could raise in her a tempestuous swell
+of sentiment that transformed her whole mind, and changed the colour
+of all her hopes and thoughts. Deeply prejudiced against her father,
+Cadurcis now hated him, and with a fell and ferocious earnestness that
+few bosoms but his could prove. Pale with rage, he ground his teeth
+and watched her with a glance of sarcastic aversion.
+
+'You led me here to listen to a communication which interested me,' he
+at length said. 'Have I heard it?'
+
+His altered tone, the air of haughtiness which he assumed, were
+not lost upon Venetia. She endeavoured to collect herself, but she
+hesitated to reply.
+
+'I repeat my inquiry,' said Cadurcis. 'Have you brought me here only
+to inform me that you have a father, and that you adore him, or his
+picture?'
+
+'I led you here,' replied Venetia, in a subdued tone, and looking on
+the ground, 'to thank you for your love, and to confess to you that I
+love another.'
+
+'Love another!' exclaimed Cadurcis, in a tone of derision. Simpleton!
+The best thing your mother can do is to lock you up in the chamber
+with the picture that has produced such marvellous effects.'
+
+'I am no simpleton, Plantagenet,' rejoined Venetia, quietly, 'but one
+who is acting as she thinks right; and not only as her mind, but as
+her heart prompts her.'
+
+They had stopped in the earlier part of this conversation on a little
+plot of turf surrounded by shrubs; Cadurcis walked up and down this
+area with angry steps, occasionally glancing at Venetia with a look of
+mortification and displeasure.
+
+'I tell you, Venetia,' he at length said, 'that you are a little fool.
+What do you mean by saying that you cannot marry me because you love
+another? Is not that other, by your own account, your father? Love him
+as much as you like. Is that to prevent you from loving your husband
+also?'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are rude, and unnecessarily so,' said Venetia. 'I
+repeat to you again, and for the last time, that all my heart is my
+father's. It would be wicked in me to marry you, because I cannot love
+you as a husband should be loved. I can never love you as I love my
+father. However, it is useless to talk upon this subject. I have not
+even the power of marrying you if I wished, for I have dedicated
+myself to my father in the name of God; and I have offered a vow, to
+be registered in heaven, that thenceforth I would exist only for the
+purpose of being restored to his heart.'
+
+'I congratulate you on your parent, Miss Herbert.'
+
+'I feel that I ought to be proud of him, though, alas I can only feel
+it. But, whatever your opinion may be of my father, I beg you to
+remember that you are speaking to his child.'
+
+'I shall state my opinion respecting your father, madam, with the most
+perfect unreserve, wherever and whenever I choose; quite convinced
+that, however you esteem that opinion, it will not be widely different
+from the real sentiments of the only parent whom you ought to respect,
+and whom you are bound to obey.'
+
+'And I can tell you, sir, that whatever your opinion is on any subject
+it will never influence mine. If, indeed, I were the mistress of my
+own destiny, which I am not, it would have been equally out of my
+power to have acted as you have so singularly proposed. I do not wish
+to marry, and marry I never will; but were it in my power, or in
+accordance with my wish, to unite my fate for ever with another's, it
+should at least be with one to whom I could look up with reverence,
+and even with admiration. He should be at least a man, and a great
+man; one with whose name the world rung; perhaps, like my father, a
+genius and a poet.'
+
+'A genius and a poet!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, in a fury, stamping
+with passion; 'are these fit terms to use when speaking of the most
+abandoned profligate of his age? A man whose name is synonymous with
+infamy, and which no one dares to breathe in civilised life; whose
+very blood is pollution, as you will some day feel; who has violated
+every tie, and derided every principle, by which society is
+maintained; whose life is a living illustration of his own shameless
+doctrines; who is, at the same time, a traitor to his king and an
+apostate from his God!'
+
+Curiosity, overpowering even indignation, had permitted Venetia to
+listen even to this tirade. Pale as her companion, but with a glance
+of withering scorn, she exclaimed, 'Passionate and ill-mannered boy!
+words cannot express the disgust and the contempt with which you
+inspire me.' She spoke and she disappeared. Cadurcis was neither able
+nor desirous to arrest her flight. He remained rooted to the ground,
+muttering to himself the word 'boy!' Suddenly raising his arm and
+looking up to the sky, he exclaimed, 'The illusion is vanished!
+Farewell, Cherbury! farewell, Cadurcis! a wider theatre awaits me! I
+have been too long the slave of soft affections! I root them out of my
+heart for ever!' and, fitting the action to the phrase, it seemed that
+he hurled upon the earth all the tender emotions of his soul. 'Woman!
+henceforth you shall be my sport! I have now no feeling but for
+myself. When she spoke I might have been a boy; I am a boy no longer.
+What I shall do I know not; but this I know, the world shall ring with
+my name; I will be a man, and a great man!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The agitation of Venetia on her return was not unnoticed by her
+mother; but Lady Annabel ascribed it to a far different cause than the
+real one. She was rather surprised when the breakfast passed, and Lord
+Cadurcis did not appear; somewhat perplexed when her daughter seized
+the earliest opportunity of retiring to her own chamber; but, with
+that self-restraint of which she was so complete a mistress, Lady
+Annabel uttered no remark.
+
+Once more alone, Venetia could only repeat to herself the wild words
+that had burst from Plantagenet's lips in reference to her father.
+What could they mean? His morals might be misrepresented, his opinions
+might be misunderstood; stupidity might not comprehend his doctrines,
+malignity might torture them; the purest sages have been accused
+of immorality, the most pious philosophers have been denounced as
+blasphemous: but, 'a traitor to his king,' that was a tangible, an
+intelligible proposition, one with which all might grapple, which
+could be easily disproved if false, scarcely propounded were it
+not true. 'False to his God!' How false? Where? When? What mystery
+involved her life? Unhappy girl! in vain she struggled with the
+overwhelming burden of her sorrows. Now she regretted that she had
+quarrelled with Cadurcis; it was evident that he knew everything and
+would have told her all. And then she blamed him for his harsh and
+unfeeling demeanour, and his total want of sympathy with her cruel and
+perplexing situation. She had intended, she had struggled to be so
+kind to him; she thought she had such a plain tale to tell that he
+would have listened to it in considerate silence, and bowed to her
+necessary and inevitable decision without a murmur. Amid all these
+harassing emotions her mind tossed about like a ship without a rudder,
+until, in her despair, she almost resolved to confess everything to
+her mother, and to request her to soothe and enlighten her agitated
+and confounded mind. But what hope was there of solace or information
+from such a quarter? Lady Annabel's was not a mind to be diverted from
+her purpose. Whatever might have been the conduct of her husband, it
+was evident that Lady Annabel had traced out a course from which she
+had resolved not to depart. She remembered the earnest and repeated
+advice of Dr. Masham, that virtuous and intelligent man who never
+advised anything but for their benefit. How solemnly had he enjoined
+upon her never to speak to her mother upon the subject, unless she
+wished to produce misery and distress! And what could her mother tell
+her? Her father lived, he had abandoned her, he was looked upon as a
+criminal, and shunned by the society whose laws and prejudices he had
+alike outraged. Why should she revive, amid the comparative happiness
+and serenity in which her mother now lived, the bitter recollection of
+the almost intolerable misfortune of her existence? No! Venetia was
+resolved to be a solitary victim. In spite of her passionate and
+romantic devotion to her father she loved her mother with perfect
+affection, the mother who had dedicated her life to her child, and at
+least hoped she had spared her any share in their common unhappiness.
+And this father, whoso image haunted her dreams, whose unknown voice
+seemed sometimes to float to her quick ear upon the wind, could he be
+that abandoned being that Cadurcis had described, and that all around
+her, and all the circumstances of her life, would seem to indicate?
+Alas! it might be truth; alas! it seemed like truth: and for one so
+lost, so utterly irredeemable, was she to murmur against that pure
+and benevolent parent who had cherished her with such devotion, and
+snatched her perhaps from disgrace, dishonour, and despair!
+
+And Cadurcis, would he return? With all his violence, the kind
+Cadurcis! Never did she need a brother more than now; and now he was
+absent, and she had parted with him in anger, deep, almost deadly:
+she, too, who had never before uttered a harsh word to a human being,
+who had been involved in only one quarrel in her life, and that almost
+unconsciously, and which had nearly broken her heart. She wept,
+bitterly she wept, this poor Venetia!
+
+By one of those mental efforts which her strange lot often forced her
+to practise, Venetia at length composed herself, and returned to the
+room where she believed she would meet her mother, and hoped she
+should see Cadurcis. He was not there: but Lady Annabel was seated as
+calm and busied as usual; the Doctor had departed. Even his presence
+would have proved a relief, however slight, to Venetia, who dreaded at
+this moment to be alone with her mother. She had no cause, however,
+for alarm; Lord Cadurcis never appeared, and was absent even from
+dinner; the day died away, and still he was wanting; and at length
+Venetia bade her usual good night to Lady Annabel, and received
+her usual blessing and embrace without his name having been even
+mentioned.
+
+Venetia passed a disturbed night, haunted by painful dreams, in which
+her father and Cadurcis were both mixed up, and with images of pain,
+confusion, disgrace, and misery; but the morrow, at least, did not
+prolong her suspense, for just as she had joined her mother at
+breakfast, Mistress Pauncefort, who had been despatched on some
+domestic mission by her mistress, entered with a face of wonder,
+and began as usual: 'Only think, my lady; well to be sure, who have
+thought it? I am quite confident, for my own part, I was quite taken
+aback when I heard it; and I could not have believed my ears, if John
+had not told me himself, and he had it from his lordship's own man.'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, what have you to say?' inquired Lady Annabel, very
+calmly.
+
+'And never to send no note, my lady; at least I have not seen one come
+up. That makes it so very strange.'
+
+'Makes what, Pauncefort?'
+
+'Why, my lady, doesn't your la'ship know his lordship left the abbey
+yesterday, and never said nothing to nobody; rode off without a word,
+by your leave or with your leave? To be sure he always was the oddest
+young gentleman as ever I met with; and, as I said to John: John, says
+I, I hope his lordship has not gone to join the gipsies again.'
+
+Venetia looked into a teacup, and then touched an egg, and then
+twirled a spoon; but Lady Annabel seemed quite imperturbable, and only
+observed, 'Probably his guardian is ill, and he has been suddenly
+summoned to town. I wish you would bring my knitting-needles,
+Pauncefort.'
+
+The autumn passed, and Lord Cadurcis never returned to the abbey,
+and never wrote to any of his late companions. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned his name; and although she seemed to have no other object in
+life but the pleasure and happiness of her child, this strange mother
+never once consulted Venetia on the probable occasion of his sudden
+departure, and his strange conduct.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Party feeling, perhaps, never ran higher in England than during the
+period immediately subsequent to the expulsion of the Coalition
+Ministry. After the indefatigable faction of the American war, and the
+flagrant union with Lord North, the Whig party, and especially Charles
+Fox, then in the full vigour of his bold and ready mind, were stung to
+the quick that all their remorseless efforts to obtain and preserve
+the government of the country should terminate in the preferment and
+apparent permanent power of a mere boy.
+
+Next to Charles Fox, perhaps the most eminent and influential member
+of the Whig party was Lady Monteagle. The daughter of one of the
+oldest and most powerful peers in the kingdom, possessing lively
+talents and many fascinating accomplishments, the mistress of a great
+establishment, very beautiful, and, although she had been married
+some years, still young, the celebrated wife of Lord Monteagle found
+herself the centre of a circle alike powerful, brilliant, and refined.
+She was the Muse of the Whig party, at whose shrine every man of wit
+and fashion was proud to offer his flattering incense; and her house
+became not merely the favourite scene of their social pleasures, but
+the sacred, temple of their political rites; here many a manoeuvre was
+planned, and many a scheme suggested; many a convert enrolled, and
+many a votary initiated.
+
+Reclining on a couch in a boudoir, which she was assured was the exact
+facsimile of that of Marie Antoinette, Lady Monteagle, with an eye
+sparkling with excitement and a cheek flushed with emotion, appeared
+deeply interested in a volume, from which she raised her hand as her
+husband entered the room.
+
+'Gertrude, my love,' said his lordship, 'I have asked the new bishop
+to dine with us to-day.'
+
+'My dear Henry,' replied her ladyship, 'what could induce you to do
+anything so strange?'
+
+'I suppose I have made a mistake, as usual,' said his lordship,
+shrugging his shoulders, with a smile.
+
+'My dear Henry, you know you may ask whomever you like to your house.
+I never find fault with what you do. But what could induce you to ask
+a Tory bishop to meet a dozen of our own people?'
+
+'I thought I had done wrong directly I had asked him,' rejoined his
+lordship; 'and yet he would not have come if I had not made such a
+point of it. I think I will put him off.'
+
+'No, my love, that would be wrong; you cannot do that.'
+
+'I cannot think how it came into my head. The fact is, I lost my
+presence of mind. You know he was my tutor at Christchurch, when poor
+dear Herbert and I were such friends, and very kind he was to us both;
+and so, the moment I saw him, I walked across the House, introduced
+myself, and asked him to dinner.'
+
+'Well, never mind,' said Lady Monteagle, smiling. 'It is rather
+ridiculous: but I hope nothing will be said to offend him.'
+
+'Oh! do not be alarmed about that: he is quite a man of the world,
+and, although he has his opinions, not at all a partisan. I assure you
+poor dear Herbert loved him to the last, and to this very moment has
+the greatest respect and affection for him.'
+
+'How very strange that not only your tutor, but Herbert's, should be a
+bishop,' remarked the lady, smiling.
+
+'It is very strange,' said his lordship, 'and it only shows that it is
+quite useless in this world to lay plans, or reckon on anything. You
+know how it happened?'
+
+'Not I, indeed; I have never given a thought to the business; I only
+remember being very vexed that that stupid old Bangerford should not
+have died when we were in office, and then, at any rate, we should
+have got another vote.'
+
+'Well, you know,' said his lordship, 'dear old Masham, that is his
+name, was at Weymouth this year; with whom do you think, of all people
+in the world?'
+
+'How should I know? Why should I think about it, Henry?'
+
+'Why, with Herbert's wife.'
+
+'What, that horrid woman?'
+
+'Yes, Lady Annabel.'
+
+'And where was his daughter? Was she there?'
+
+'Of course. She has grown up, and a most beautiful creature they say
+she is; exactly like her father.'
+
+'Ah! I shall always regret I never saw him,' said her ladyship.
+
+'Well, the daughter is in bad health; and so, after keeping her shut
+up all her life, the mother was obliged to take her to Weymouth; and
+Masham, who has a living in their neighbourhood, which, by-the-bye,
+Herbert gave him, and is their chaplain and counsellor, and friend of
+the family, and all that sort of thing, though I really believe he has
+always acted for the best, he was with them. Well, the King took the
+greatest fancy to these Herberts; and the Queen, too, quite singled
+them out; and, in short, they were always with the royal family. It
+ended by his Majesty making Masham his chaplain; and now he has made
+him a bishop.'
+
+'Very droll indeed,' said her ladyship; 'and the drollest thing of all
+is, that he is now coming to dine here.'
+
+'Have you seen Cadurcis to-day?' said Lord Monteagle.
+
+'Of course,' said her ladyship.
+
+'He dines here?'
+
+'To be sure. I am reading his new poem; it will not be published till
+to-morrow.'
+
+'Is it good?'
+
+'Good! What crude questions you do always ask, Henry!' exclaimed Lady
+Monteagle. 'Good! Of course it is good. It is something better than
+good.'
+
+'But I mean is it as good as his other things? Will it make as much
+noise as his last thing?'
+
+'Thing! Now, Henry, you know very well that if there be anything I
+dislike in the world, it is calling a poem a thing.'
+
+'Well, my dear, you know I am no judge of poetry. But if you are
+pleased, I am quite content. There is a knock. Some of your friends.
+I am off. I say, Gertrude, be kind to old Masham, that is a dear
+creature!'
+
+Her ladyship extended her hand, to which his lordship pressed his
+lips, and just effected his escape as the servant announced a visitor,
+in the person of Mr. Horace Pole.
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole, I am quite exhausted,' said her ladyship; 'I am
+reading Cadurcis' new poem; it will not he published till to-morrow,
+and it really has destroyed my nerves. I have got people to dinner
+to-day, and I am sure I shall not be able to encounter them.'
+
+'Something outrageous, I suppose,' said Mr. Pole, with a sneer. 'I
+wish Cadurcis would study Pope.'
+
+'Study Pope! My dear Mr. Pole, you have no imagination.'
+
+'No, I have not, thank Heaven!' drawled out Mr. Pole.
+
+'Well, do not let us have a quarrel about Cadurcis,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'All you men are jealous of him.'
+
+'And some of you women, I think, too,' said Mr. Pole.
+
+Lady Monteagle faintly smiled.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' she exclaimed; 'he has a very hard life of it. He
+complains bitterly that so many women are in love with him. But then
+he is such an interesting creature, what can he expect?'
+
+'Interesting!' exclaimed Mr. Pole. 'Now I hold he is the most
+conceited, affected fellow that I ever met,' he continued with unusual
+energy.
+
+'Ah! you men do not understand him,' said Lady Monteagle, shaking her
+head. 'You cannot,' she added, with a look of pity.
+
+'I cannot, certainly,' said Mr. Pole, 'or his writings either. For my
+part I think the town has gone mad.'
+
+'Well, you must confess,' said her ladyship, with a glance of triumph,
+'that it was very lucky for us that I made him a Whig.'
+
+'I cannot agree with you at all on that head,' said Mr. Pole. 'We
+certainly are not very popular at this moment, and I feel convinced
+that a connection with a person who attracts so much notice as
+Cadurcis unfortunately does, and whose opinions on morals and religion
+must be so offensive to the vast majority of the English public, must
+ultimately prove anything but advantageous to our party.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole,' said her ladyship, in a tone of affected
+deprecation, 'think what a genius he is!'
+
+'We have very different ideas of genius, Lady Monteagle, I suspect,'
+said her visitor.
+
+'You cannot deny,' replied her ladyship, rising from her recumbent
+posture, with some animation, 'that he is a poet?'
+
+'It is difficult to decide upon our contemporaries,' said Mr. Pole
+dryly.
+
+'Charles Fox thinks he is the greatest poet that ever existed,' said
+her ladyship, as if she were determined to settle the question.
+
+'Because he has written a lampoon on the royal family,' rejoined Mr.
+Pole.
+
+'You are a very provoking person,' said Lady Monteagle; 'but you do
+not provoke me; do not flatter yourself you do.'
+
+'That I feel to be an achievement alike beyond my power and my
+ambition,' replied Mr. Pole, slightly bowing, but with a sneer.
+
+'Well, read this,' said Lady Monteagle, 'and then decide upon the
+merits of Cadurcis.'
+
+Mr. Pole took the extended volume, but with no great willingness, and
+turned over a page or two and read a passage here and there.
+
+'Much the same as his last effusion, I think' he observed, as far as
+I can judge from so cursory a review. Exaggerated passion, bombastic
+language, egotism to excess, and, which perhaps is the only portion
+that is genuine, mixed with common-place scepticism and impossible
+morals, and a sort of vague, dreamy philosophy, which, if it mean
+anything, means atheism, borrowed from his idol, Herbert, and which he
+himself evidently does not comprehend.'
+
+'Monster!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, with a mock assumption of
+indignation, 'and you are going to dine with him here to-day. You do
+not deserve it.'
+
+'It is a reward which is unfortunately too often obtained by me,'
+replied Mr. Pole. 'One of the most annoying consequences of your
+friend's popularity, Lady Monteagle, is that there is not a dinner
+party where one can escape him. I met him yesterday at Fanshawe's. He
+amused himself by eating only biscuits, and calling for soda water,
+while we quaffed our Burgundy. How very original! What a thing it is
+to be a great poet!'
+
+'Perverse, provoking mortal!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'And on what
+should a poet live? On coarse food, like you coarse mortals? Cadurcis
+is all spirit, and in my opinion his diet only makes him more
+interesting.'
+
+'I understand,' said Mr. Pole, 'that he cannot endure a woman to eat
+at all. But you are all spirit, Lady Monteagle, and therefore of
+course are not in the least inconvenienced. By-the-bye, do you mean to
+give us any of those charming little suppers this season?'
+
+'I shall not invite you,' replied her ladyship; 'none but admirers of
+Lord Cadurcis enter this house.'
+
+'Your menace effects my instant conversion,' replied Mr. Pole. 'I will
+admire him as much as you desire, only do not insist upon my reading
+his works.'
+
+'I have not the slightest doubt you know them by heart,' rejoined her
+ladyship.
+
+Mr. Pole smiled, bowed, and disappeared; and Lady Monteagle sat down
+to write a billet to Lord Cadurcis, to entreat him to be with her at
+five o'clock, which was at least half an hour before the other guests
+were expected. The Monteagles were considered to dine ridiculously
+late.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Marmion Herbert, sprung from one of the most illustrious families in
+England, became at an early age the inheritor of a great estate, to
+which, however, he did not succeed with the prejudices or opinions
+usually imbibed or professed by the class to which he belonged. While
+yet a boy, Marmion Herbert afforded many indications of possessing a
+mind alike visionary and inquisitive, and both, although not in an
+equal degree, sceptical and creative. Nature had gifted him with
+precocious talents; and with a temperament essentially poetic, he
+was nevertheless a great student. His early reading, originally by
+accident and afterwards by an irresistible inclination, had fallen
+among the works of the English freethinkers: with all their errors,
+a profound and vigorous race, and much superior to the French
+philosophers, who were after all only their pupils and their
+imitators. While his juvenile studies, and in some degree the
+predisposition of his mind, had thus prepared him to doubt and finally
+to challenge the propriety of all that was established and received,
+the poetical and stronger bias of his mind enabled him quickly to
+supply the place of everything he would remove and destroy; and, far
+from being the victim of those frigid and indifferent feelings
+which must ever be the portion of the mere doubter, Herbert, on the
+contrary, looked forward with ardent and sanguine enthusiasm to a
+glorious and ameliorating future, which should amply compensate and
+console a misguided and unhappy race for the miserable past and
+the painful and dreary present. To those, therefore, who could not
+sympathise with his views, it will be seen that Herbert, in attempting
+to fulfil them, became not merely passively noxious from his example,
+but actively mischievous from his exertions. A mere sceptic, he would
+have been perhaps merely pitied; a sceptic with a peculiar faith of
+his own, which he was resolved to promulgate, Herbert became odious. A
+solitary votary of obnoxious opinions, Herbert would have been looked
+upon only as a madman; but the moment he attempted to make proselytes
+he rose into a conspirator against society.
+
+Young, irresistibly prepossessing in his appearance, with great
+eloquence, crude but considerable knowledge, an ardent imagination
+and a subtle mind, and a generous and passionate soul, under any
+circumstances he must have obtained and exercised influence, even if
+his Creator had not also bestowed upon him a spirit of indomitable
+courage; but these great gifts of nature being combined with accidents
+of fortune scarcely less qualified to move mankind, high rank, vast
+wealth, and a name of traditionary glory, it will not be esteemed
+surprising that Marmion Herbert, at an early period, should have
+attracted around him many enthusiastic disciples.
+
+At Christchurch, whither he repaired at an unusually early age,
+his tutor was Doctor Masham; and the profound respect and singular
+affection with which that able, learned, and amiable man early
+inspired his pupil, for a time controlled the spirit of Herbert; or
+rather confined its workings to so limited a sphere that the results
+were neither dangerous to society nor himself. Perfectly comprehending
+and appreciating the genius of the youth entrusted to his charge,
+deeply interested in his spiritual as well as worldly welfare, and
+strongly impressed with the importance of enlisting his pupil's
+energies in favour of that existing order, both moral and religious,
+in the truth and indispensableness of which he was a sincere believer,
+Doctor Masham omitted no opportunity of combating the heresies of the
+young inquirer; and as the tutor, equally by talent, experience, and
+learning, was a competent champion of the great cause to which he was
+devoted, his zeal and ability for a time checked the development of
+those opinions of which he witnessed the menacing influence over
+Herbert with so much fear and anxiety. The college life of Marmion
+Herbert, therefore, passed in ceaseless controversy with his tutor;
+and as he possessed, among many other noble qualities, a high and
+philosophic sense of justice, he did not consider himself authorised,
+while a doubt remained on his own mind, actively to promulgate those
+opinions, of the propriety and necessity of which he scarcely ever
+ceased to be persuaded. To this cause it must be mainly attributed
+that Herbert was not expelled the university; for had he pursued there
+the course of which his cruder career at Eton had given promise, there
+can be little doubt that some flagrant outrage of the opinions held
+sacred in that great seat of orthodoxy would have quickly removed him
+from the salutary sphere of their control.
+
+Herbert quitted Oxford in his nineteenth year, yet inferior to
+few that he left there, even among the most eminent, in classical
+attainments, and with a mind naturally profound, practised in all the
+arts of ratiocination. His general knowledge also was considerable,
+and he was a proficient in those scientific pursuits which were then
+rare. Notwithstanding his great fortune and position, his departure
+from the university was not a signal with him for that abandonment to
+the world, and that unbounded self-enjoyment naturally so tempting to
+youth. On the contrary, Herbert shut himself up in his magnificent
+castle, devoted to solitude and study. In his splendid library he
+consulted the sages of antiquity, and conferred with them on the
+nature of existence and of the social duties; while in his laboratory
+or his dissecting-room he occasionally flattered himself he might
+discover the great secret which had perplexed generations. The
+consequence of a year passed in this severe discipline was
+unfortunately a complete recurrence to those opinions that he had
+early imbibed, and which now seemed fixed in his conviction beyond the
+hope or chance of again faltering. In politics a violent republican,
+and an advocate, certainly a disinterested one, of a complete equality
+of property and conditions, utterly objecting to the very foundation
+of our moral system, and especially a strenuous antagonist of
+marriage, which he taught himself to esteem not only as an unnatural
+tie, but as eminently unjust towards that softer sex, who had been
+so long the victims of man; discarding as a mockery the received
+revelation of the divine will; and, if no longer an atheist,
+substituting merely for such an outrageous dogma a subtle and shadowy
+Platonism; doctrines, however, which Herbert at least had acquired by
+a profound study of the works of their great founder; the pupil of
+Doctor Masham at length deemed himself qualified to enter that world
+which he was resolved to regenerate; prepared for persecution, and
+steeled even to martyrdom.
+
+But while the doctrines of the philosopher had been forming, the
+spirit of the poet had not been inactive. Loneliness, after all, the
+best of Muses, had stimulated the creative faculty of his being.
+Wandering amid his solitary woods and glades at all hours and seasons,
+the wild and beautiful apparitions of nature had appealed to a
+sympathetic soul. The stars and winds, the pensive sunset and the
+sanguine break of morn, the sweet solemnity of night, the ancient
+trees and the light and evanescent flowers, all signs and sights and
+sounds of loveliness and power, fell on a ready eye and a responsive
+ear. Gazing on the beautiful, he longed to create it. Then it was that
+the two passions which seemed to share the being of Herbert appeared
+simultaneously to assert their sway, and he resolved to call in his
+Muse to the assistance of his Philosophy.
+
+Herbert celebrated that fond world of his imagination, which he wished
+to teach men to love. In stanzas glittering with refined images, and
+resonant with subtle symphony, he called into creation that society of
+immaculate purity and unbounded enjoyment which he believed was the
+natural inheritance of unshackled man. In the hero he pictured a
+philosopher, young and gifted as himself; in the heroine, his idea of
+a perfect woman. Although all those peculiar doctrines of Herbert,
+which, undisguised, must have excited so much odium, were more or
+less developed and inculcated in this work; nevertheless they were
+necessarily so veiled by the highly spiritual and metaphorical
+language of the poet, that it required some previous acquaintance with
+the system enforced, to be able to detect and recognise the esoteric
+spirit of his Muse. The public read only the history of an ideal world
+and of creatures of exquisite beauty, told in language that alike
+dazzled their fancy and captivated their ear. They were lost in a
+delicious maze of metaphor and music, and were proud to acknowledge
+an addition to the glorious catalogue of their poets in a young and
+interesting member of their aristocracy.
+
+In the meanwhile Herbert entered that great world that had long
+expected him, and hailed his advent with triumph. How long might have
+elapsed before they were roused by the conduct of Herbert to the
+error under which they were labouring as to his character, it is
+not difficult to conjecture; but before he could commence those
+philanthropic exertions which apparently absorbed him, he encountered
+an individual who most unconsciously put his philosophy not merely to
+the test, but partially even to the rout; and this was Lady Annabel
+Sidney. Almost as new to the world as himself, and not less admired,
+her unrivalled beauty, her unusual accomplishments, and her pure and
+dignified mind, combined, it must be confessed, with the flattering
+admiration of his genius, entirely captivated the philosophical
+antagonist of marriage. It is not surprising that Marmion Herbert,
+scarcely of age, and with a heart of extreme susceptibility, resolved,
+after a struggle, to be the first exception to his system, and, as he
+faintly flattered himself, the last victim of prejudice. He wooed and
+won the Lady Annabel.
+
+The marriage ceremony was performed by Doctor Masham, who had read his
+pupil's poem, and had been a little frightened by its indications; but
+this happy union had dissipated all his fears. He would not believe in
+any other than a future career for him alike honourable and happy; and
+he trusted that if any wild thoughts still lingered in Herbert's mind,
+that they would clear off by the same literary process; so that
+the utmost ill consequences of his immature opinions might be an
+occasional line that the wise would have liked to blot, and yet which
+the unlettered might scarcely be competent to comprehend. Mr. and Lady
+Annabel Herbert departed after the ceremony to his castle, and Doctor
+Masham to Marringhurst, a valuable living in another county, to which
+his pupil had just presented him.
+
+Some months after this memorable event, rumours reached the ear of the
+good Doctor that all was not as satisfactory as he could desire in
+that establishment, in the welfare of which he naturally took so
+lively an interest. Herbert was in the habit of corresponding with the
+rector of Marringhurst, and his first letters were full of details as
+to his happy life and his perfect consent; but gradually these details
+had been considerably abridged, and the correspondence assumed chiefly
+a literary or philosophical character. Lady Annabel, however, was
+always mentioned with regard, and an intimation had been duly given
+to the Doctor that she was in a delicate and promising situation, and
+that they were both alike anxious that he should christen their child.
+It did not seem very surprising to the good Doctor, who was a man of
+the world, that a husband, six months after marriage, should not
+speak of the memorable event with all the fulness and fondness of
+the honeymoon; and, being one of those happy tempers that always
+anticipate the best, he dismissed from his mind, as vain gossip and
+idle exaggerations, the ominous whispers that occasionally reached
+him.
+
+Immediately after the Christmas ensuing his marriage, the Herberts
+returned to London, and the Doctor, who happened to be a short time
+in the metropolis, paid them a visit. His observations were far from
+unsatisfactory; it was certainly too evident that Marmion was no
+longer enamoured of Lady Annabel, but he treated her apparently with
+courtesy, and even cordiality. The presence of Dr. Masham tended,
+perhaps, a little to revive old feelings, for he was as much a
+favourite with the wife as with the husband; but, on the whole,
+the Doctor quitted them with an easy heart, and sanguine that the
+interesting and impending event would, in all probability, revive
+affection on the part of Herbert, or at least afford Lady Annabel the
+only substitute for a husband's heart.
+
+In due time the Doctor heard from Herbert that his wife had gone
+down into the country, but was sorry to observe that Herbert did not
+accompany her. Even this disagreeable impression was removed by a
+letter, shortly after received from Herbert, dated from the castle,
+and written in high spirits, informing him that Annabel had made him
+the happy father of the most beautiful little girl in the world.
+During the ensuing three months Mr. Herbert, though he resumed his
+residence in London, paid frequent visits to the castle, where Lady
+Annabel remained; and his occasional correspondence, though couched
+in a careless vein, still on the whole indicated a cheerful spirit;
+though ever and anon were sarcastic observations as to the felicity of
+the married state, which, he said, was an undoubted blessing, as it
+kept a man out of all scrapes, though unfortunately under the penalty
+of his total idleness and inutility in life. On the whole, however,
+the reader may judge of the astonishment of Doctor Masham when, in
+common with the world, very shortly after the receipt of this letter,
+Mr. Herbert having previously proceeded to London, and awaiting, as
+was said, the daily arrival of his wife and child, his former tutor
+learned that Lady Annabel, accompanied only by Pauncefort and Venetia,
+had sought her father's roof, declaring that circumstances had
+occurred which rendered it quite impossible that she could live with
+Mr. Herbert any longer, and entreating his succour and parental
+protection.
+
+Never was such a hubbub in the world! In vain Herbert claimed his
+wife, and expressed his astonishment, declaring that he had parted
+from her with the expression of perfect kind feeling on both sides.
+No answer was given to his letter, and no explanation of any kind
+conceded him. The world universally declared Lady Annabel an injured
+woman, and trusted that she would eventually have the good sense and
+kindness to gratify them by revealing the mystery; while Herbert,
+on the contrary, was universally abused and shunned, avoided by his
+acquaintances, and denounced as the most depraved of men.
+
+In this extraordinary state of affairs Herbert acted in a manner
+the best calculated to secure his happiness, and the very worst to
+preserve his character. Having ostentatiously shown himself in every
+public place, and courted notice and inquiry by every means in his
+power, to prove that he was not anxious to conceal himself or avoid
+any inquiry, he left the country, free at last to pursue that career
+to which he had always aspired, and in which he had been checked by
+a blunder, from the consequences of which he little expected that
+he should so speedily and strangely emancipate himself. It was in a
+beautiful villa on the lake of Geneva that he finally established
+himself, and there for many years he employed himself in the
+publication of a series of works which, whether they were poetry or
+prose, imaginative or investigative, all tended to the same consistent
+purpose, namely, the fearless and unqualified promulgation of those
+opinions, on the adoption of which he sincerely believed the happiness
+of mankind depended; and the opposite principles to which, in his own
+case, had been productive of so much mortification and misery.
+His works, which were published in England, were little read, and
+universally decried. The critics were always hard at work, proving
+that he was no poet, and demonstrating in the most logical manner
+that he was quite incapable of reasoning on the commonest topic. In
+addition to all this, his ignorance was self-evident; and though he
+was very fond of quoting Greek, they doubted whether he was capable of
+reading the original authors. The general impression of the English
+public, after the lapse of some years, was, that Herbert was an
+abandoned being, of profligate habits, opposed to all the institutions
+of society that kept his infamy in check, and an avowed atheist; and
+as scarcely any one but a sympathetic spirit ever read a line he
+wrote, for indeed the very sight of his works was pollution, it is not
+very wonderful that this opinion was so generally prevalent. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have suspected that abandoned profligacy is
+not very compatible with severe study, and that an author is seldom
+loose in his life, even if he be licentious in his writings. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have been of opinion that a solitary sage
+may be the antagonist of a priesthood without absolutely denying the
+existence of a God; but there never are calm inquirers. The world, on
+every subject, however unequally, is divided into parties; and even in
+the case of Herbert and his writings, those who admired his genius,
+and the generosity of his soul, were not content without advocating,
+principally out of pique to his adversaries, his extreme opinions on
+every subject, moral, political, and religious.
+
+Besides, it must be confessed, there was another circumstance which
+was almost as fatal to Herbert's character in England as his loose and
+heretical opinions. The travelling English, during their visits to
+Geneva, found out that their countryman solaced or enlivened his
+solitude by unhallowed ties. It is a habit to which very young men,
+who are separated from or deserted by their wives, occasionally have
+recourse. Wrong, no doubt, as most things are, but it is to be hoped
+venial; at least in the case of any man who is not also an atheist.
+This unfortunate mistress of Herbert was magnified into a seraglio;
+the most extraordinary tales of the voluptuous life of one who
+generally at his studies out-watched the stars, were rife in English
+society; and
+
+  Hoary marquises and stripling dukes,
+
+who were either protecting opera dancers, or, still worse, making
+love to their neighbours' wives, either looked grave when the name of
+Herbert was mentioned in female society, or affectedly confused, as if
+they could a tale unfold, were they not convinced that the sense of
+propriety among all present was infinitely superior to their sense of
+curiosity.
+
+The only person to whom Herbert communicated in England was Doctor
+Masham. He wrote to him immediately on his establishment at Geneva, in
+a calm yet sincere and serious tone, as if it were useless to dwell
+too fully on the past. Yet he declared, although now that it was all
+over he avowed his joy at the interposition of his destiny, and the
+opportunity which he at length possessed of pursuing the career for
+which he was adapted, that he had to his knowledge given his wife
+no cause of offence which could authorise her conduct. As for his
+daughter, he said he should not be so cruel as to tear her from
+her mother's breast; though, if anything could induce him to such
+behaviour, it would be the malignant and ungenerous menace of his
+wife's relatives, that they would oppose his preferred claim to
+the guardianship of his child, on the plea of his immoral life and
+atheistical opinions. With reference to pecuniary arrangements, as
+his chief seat was entailed on male heirs, he proposed that his wife
+should take up her abode at Cherbury, an estate which had been settled
+on her and her children at her marriage, and which, therefore, would
+descend to Venetia. Finally, he expressed his satisfaction that the
+neighbourhood of Marringhurst would permit his good and still faithful
+friend to cultivate the society and guard over the welfare of his wife
+and daughter.
+
+During the first ten years of Herbert's exile, for such indeed it
+might be considered, the Doctor maintained with him a rare yet regular
+correspondence; but after that time a public event occurred, and
+a revolution took place in Herbert's life which terminated all
+communication between them; a termination occasioned, however, by such
+a simultaneous conviction of its absolute necessity, that it was not
+attended by any of those painful communications which are too often
+the harrowing forerunners of a formal disruption of ancient ties.
+
+This event was the revolt of the American colonies; and this
+revolution in Herbert's career, his junction with the rebels against
+his native country. Doubtless it was not without a struggle, perhaps
+a pang, that Herbert resolved upon a line of conduct to which it
+must assuredly have required the strongest throb of his cosmopolitan
+sympathy, and his amplest definition of philanthropy to have impelled
+him. But without any vindictive feelings towards England, for he ever
+professed and exercised charity towards his enemies, attributing their
+conduct entirely to their ignorance and prejudice, upon this step he
+nevertheless felt it his duty to decide. There seemed in the opening
+prospects of America, in a world still new, which had borrowed from
+the old as it were only so much civilisation as was necessary to
+create and to maintain order; there seemed in the circumstances of its
+boundless territory, and the total absence of feudal institutions and
+prejudices, so fair a field for the practical introduction of those
+regenerating principles to which Herbert had devoted all the thought
+and labour of his life, that he resolved, after long and perhaps
+painful meditation, to sacrifice every feeling and future interest to
+its fulfilment. All idea of ever returning to his native country, even
+were it only to mix his ashes with the generations of his ancestors;
+all hope of reconciliation with his wife, or of pressing to his
+heart that daughter, often present to his tender fancy, and to whose
+affections he had feelingly appealed in an outburst of passionate
+poetry; all these chances, chances which, in spite of his philosophy,
+had yet a lingering charm, must be discarded for ever. They were
+discarded. Assigning his estate to his heir upon conditions, in order
+to prevent its forfeiture, with such resources as he could command,
+and which were considerable, Marmion Herbert arrived at Boston, where
+his rank, his wealth, his distinguished name, his great talents, and
+his undoubted zeal for the cause of liberty, procured him an eminent
+and gratifying reception. He offered to raise a regiment for the
+republic, and the offer was accepted, and he was enrolled among the
+citizens. All this occurred about the time that the Cadurcis family
+first settled at the abbey, and this narrative will probably throw
+light upon several slight incidents which heretofore may have
+attracted the perplexed attention of the reader: such as the newspaper
+brought by Dr. Masham at the Christmas visit; the tears shed at a
+subsequent period at Marringhurst, when he related to her the last
+intelligence that had been received from America. For, indeed, it is
+impossible to express the misery and mortification which this last
+conduct of her husband occasioned Lady Annabel, brought up, as she had
+been, with feelings of romantic loyalty and unswerving patriotism.
+To be a traitor seemed the only blot that remained for his sullied
+scutcheon, and she had never dreamed of that. An infidel, a
+profligate, a deserter from his home, an apostate from his God! one
+infamy alone remained, and now he had attained it; a traitor to his
+king! Why, every peasant would despise him!
+
+General Herbert, however, for such he speedily became, at the head of
+his division, soon arrested the attention, and commanded the respect,
+of Europe. To his exertions the successful result of the struggle
+was, in a great measure, attributed; and he received the thanks of
+Congress, of which he became a member. His military and political
+reputation exercised a beneficial influence upon his literary fame.
+His works were reprinted in America, and translated into French,
+and published at Geneva and Basle, whence they were surreptitiously
+introduced into France. The Whigs, who had become very factious, and
+nearly revolutionary, during the American war, suddenly became proud
+of their countryman, whom a new world hailed as a deliverer, and
+Paris declared to be a great poet and an illustrious philosopher. His
+writings became fashionable, especially among the young; numerous
+editions of them appeared, and in time it was discovered that Herbert
+was now not only openly read, and enthusiastically admired, but had
+founded a school.
+
+The struggle with America ceased about the time of Lord Cadurcis' last
+visit to Cherbury, when, from his indignant lips, Venetia first learnt
+the enormities of her father's career. Since that period some three
+years had elapsed until we introduced our readers to the boudoir
+of Lady Monteagle. During this period, among the Whigs and their
+partisans the literary fame of Herbert had arisen and become
+established. How they have passed in regard to Lady Annabel Herbert
+and her daughter, on the one hand, and Lord Cadurcis himself on the
+other, we will endeavour to ascertain in the following chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the last departure of Lord Cadurcis from Cherbury, the health of
+Venetia again declined. The truth is, she brooded in solitude over her
+strange lot, until her nerves became relaxed by intense reverie and
+suppressed feeling. The attention of a mother so wrapt up in her child
+as Lady Annabel, was soon attracted to the increasing languor of
+our heroine, whose eye each day seemed to grow less bright, and her
+graceful form less lithe and active. No longer, fond of the sun and
+breeze as a beautiful bird, was Venetia seen, as heretofore, glancing
+in the garden, or bounding over the lawns; too often might she be
+found reclining on the couch, in spite of all the temptations of the
+spring; while her temper, once so singularly sweet that it seemed
+there was not in the world a word that could ruffle it, and which
+required so keenly and responded so quickly to sympathy, became
+reserved, if not absolutely sullen, or at times even captious and
+fretful.
+
+This change in the appearance and demeanour of her daughter filled
+Lady Annabel with anxiety and alarm. In vain she expressed to Venetia
+her conviction of her indisposition; but Venetia, though her altered
+habits confirmed the suspicion, and authorised the inquiry of her
+parent, persisted ever in asserting that she had no ailment. Her old
+medical attendant was, however, consulted, and, being perplexed with
+the case, he recommended change of air. Lady Annabel then consulted
+Dr. Masham, and he gave his opinion in favour of change of air for one
+reason: and that was, that it would bring with it what he had long
+considered Venetia to stand in need of, and that was change of life.
+
+Dr. Masham was right; but then, to guide him in forming his judgment,
+he had the advantage of some psychological knowledge of the case,
+which, in a greet degree, was a sealed book to the poor puzzled
+physician. We laugh very often at the errors of medical men; but if
+we would only, when we consult them, have strength of mind enough to
+extend to them something better than a half-confidence, we might be
+cured the sooner. How often, when the unhappy disciple of Esculapius
+is perplexing himself about the state of our bodies, we might throw
+light upon his obscure labours by simply detailing to him the state of
+our minds!
+
+The result of these consultations in the Herbert family was a final
+resolution, on the part of Lady Annabel, to quit Cherbury for a while.
+As the sea air was especially recommended to Venetia, and as Lady
+Annabel shrank with a morbid apprehension from society, to which
+nothing could persuade her she was not an object either of odium or
+impertinent curiosity, she finally resolved to visit Weymouth, then a
+small and secluded watering-place, and whither she arrived and settled
+herself, it not being even the season when its few customary visitors
+were in the habit of gathering.
+
+This residence at Weymouth quite repaid Lady Annabel for all the
+trouble of her new settlement, and for the change in her life very
+painful to her confirmed habits, which she experienced in leaving for
+the first time for such a long series of years, her old hall; for the
+rose returned to the cheek of her daughter, and the western breezes,
+joined with the influence of the new objects that surrounded her, and
+especially of that ocean, and its strange and inexhaustible variety,
+on which she gazed for the first time, gradually, but surely,
+completed the restoration of Venetia to health, and with it to much of
+her old vivacity.
+
+When Lady Annabel had resided about a year at Weymouth, in the society
+of which she had invariably made the indisposition of Venetia a reason
+for not entering, a great revolution suddenly occurred at this little
+quiet watering-place, for it was fixed upon as the summer residence of
+the English court. The celebrated name, the distinguished appearance,
+and the secluded habits of Lady Annabel and her daughter, had rendered
+them the objects of general interest. Occasionally they were met in a
+seaside walk by some fellow-wanderer over the sands, or toiler over
+the shingles; and romantic reports of the dignity of the mother and
+the daughter's beauty were repeated by the fortunate observers to the
+lounging circle of the public library or the baths.
+
+The moment that Lady Annabel was assured that the royal family had
+positively fixed upon Weymouth for their residence, and were even
+daily expected, she resolved instantly to retire. Her stern sense of
+duty assured her that it was neither delicate nor loyal to obtrude
+before the presence of an outraged monarch the wife and daughter of a
+traitor; her haughty, though wounded, spirit shrank from the revival
+of her husband's history, which must be the consequence of such a
+conjunction, and from the startling and painful remarks which might
+reach the shrouded ear of her daughter. With her characteristic
+decision, and with her usual stern volition, Lady Annabel quitted
+Weymouth instantly, but she was in some degree consoled for the regret
+and apprehensiveness which she felt at thus leaving a place that had
+otherwise so happily fulfilled all her hopes and wishes, and that
+seemed to agree so entirely with Venetia, by finding unexpectedly
+a marine villa, some few miles further up the coast, which was
+untenanted, and which offered to Lady Annabel all the accommodation
+she could desire.
+
+It so happened this summer that Dr. Masham paid the Herberts a visit,
+and it was his habit occasionally to ride into Weymouth to read the
+newspaper, or pass an hour in that easy lounging chat, which is,
+perhaps, one of the principal diversions of a watering-place. A great
+dignitary of the church, who was about the King, and to whom Dr.
+Masham was known not merely by reputation, mentioned his presence to
+his Majesty; and the King, who was fond of the society of eminent
+divines, desired that Dr. Masham should be presented to him. Now, so
+favourable was the impression that the rector of Marringhurst made
+upon his sovereign, that from that moment the King was scarcely ever
+content unless he was in attendance. His Majesty, who was happy in
+asking questions, and much too acute to be baffled when he sought
+information, finally elicited from the Doctor all that, in order to
+please Lady Annabel, he long struggled to conceal; but when the King
+found that the deserted wife and daughter of Herbert were really
+living in the neighbourhood, and that they had quitted Weymouth on his
+arrival, from a feeling of delicate loyalty, nothing would satisfy the
+kind-hearted monarch but personally assuring them of the interest he
+took in their welfare; and accordingly, the next day, without giving
+Lady Annabel even the preparation of a notice, his Majesty and his
+royal consort, attended only by a lord in waiting, called at the
+marine villa, and fairly introduced themselves.
+
+An acquaintance, occasioned by a sentiment of generous and
+condescending sympathy, was established and strengthened into
+intimacy, by the personal qualities of those thus delicately honoured.
+The King and Queen were equally delighted with the wife and daughter
+of the terrible rebel; and although, of course, not an allusion was
+made to his existence, Lady Annabel felt not the less acutely the
+cause to which she was indebted for a notice so gratifying, but
+which she afterwards ensured by her own merits. How strange are the
+accidents of life! Venetia Herbert, who had been bred up in unbroken
+solitude, and whose converse had been confined to two or three beings,
+suddenly found herself the guest of a king, and the visitor to a
+court! She stepped at once from solitude into the most august circle
+of society; yet, though she had enjoyed none of that initiatory
+experience which is usually held so indispensable to the votaries
+of fashion, her happy nature qualified her to play her part without
+effort and with success. Serene and graceful, she mingled in the
+strange and novel scene, as if it had been for ever her lot to dazzle
+and to charm. Ere the royal family returned to London, they extracted
+from Lady Annabel a compliance with their earnest wishes, that
+she should fix her residence, during the ensuing season, in the
+metropolis, and that she should herself present Venetia at St.
+James's. The wishes of kings are commands; and Lady Annabel, who thus
+unexpectedly perceived some of the most painful anticipations of her
+solitude at once dissipated, and that her child, instead of being
+subjected on her entrance into life to all the mortifications she had
+imagined, would, on the contrary, find her first introduction under
+auspices the most flattering and advantageous, bowed a dutiful assent
+to the condescending injunctions.
+
+Such were the memorable consequences of this visit to Weymouth! The
+return of Lady Annabel to the world, and her intended residence in the
+metropolis, while the good Masham preceded their arrival to receive a
+mitre. Strange events, and yet not improbable!
+
+In the meantime Lord Cadurcis had repaired to the university, where
+his rank and his eccentric qualities quickly gathered round him a
+choice circle of intimates, chiefly culled from his old schoolfellows.
+Of these the great majority were his seniors, for whose society
+the maturity of his mind qualified him. It so happened that these
+companions were in general influenced by those liberal opinions which
+had become in vogue during the American war, and from which Lord
+Cadurcis had hitherto been preserved by the society in which he
+had previously mingled in the house of his guardian. With the
+characteristic caprice and impetuosity of youth, Cadurcis rapidly
+and ardently imbibed all these doctrines, captivated alike by their
+boldness and their novelty. Hitherto the child of prejudice, he
+flattered himself that he was now the creature of reason, and,
+determined to take nothing for granted, he soon learned to question
+everything that was received. A friend introduced him to the writings
+of Herbert, that very Herbert whom he had been taught to look upon
+with so much terror and odium. Their perusal operated a complete
+revolution of his mind; and, in little more than a year from his
+flight from Cherbury, he had become an enthusiastic votary of the
+great master, for his violent abuse of whom he had been banished from
+those happy bowers. The courage, the boldness, the eloquence, the
+imagination, the strange and romantic career of Herbert, carried the
+spirit of Cadurcis captive. The sympathetic companions studied his
+works and smiled with scorn at the prejudice of which their great
+model had been the victim, and of which they had been so long the
+dupes. As for Cadurcis, he resolved to emulate him, and he commenced
+his noble rivalship by a systematic neglect of all the duties and
+the studies of his college life. His irregular habits procured him
+constant reprimands in which he gloried; he revenged himself on the
+authorities by writing epigrams, and by keeping a bear, which he
+declared should stand for a fellowship. At length, having wilfully
+outraged the most important regulations, he was expelled; and he
+made his expulsion the subject of a satire equally personal and
+philosophic, and which obtained applause for the great talent which it
+displayed, even from those who lamented its want of judgment and the
+misconduct of its writer. Flushed with success, Cadurcis at length
+found, to his astonishment, that Nature had intended him for a poet.
+He repaired to London, where he was received with open arms by the
+Whigs, whose party he immediately embraced, and where he published a
+poem, in which he painted his own character as the hero, and of which,
+in spite of all the exaggeration and extravagance of youth, the genius
+was undeniable. Society sympathised with a young and a noble poet;
+his poem was read by all parties with enthusiasm; Cadurcis became the
+fashion. To use his own expression, 'One morning he awoke, and found
+himself famous.' Young, singularly handsome, with every gift of nature
+and fortune, and with an inordinate vanity that raged in his soul,
+Cadurcis soon forgot the high philosophy that had for a moment
+attracted him, and delivered himself up to the absorbing egotism which
+had ever been latent in his passionate and ambitious mind. Gifted with
+energies that few have ever equalled, and fooled to the bent by the
+excited sympathies of society, he poured forth his creative and daring
+spirit with a license that conquered all obstacles, from the very
+audacity with which he assailed them. In a word, the young, the
+reserved, and unknown Cadurcis, who, but three years back, was to have
+lived in the domestic solitude for which he alone felt himself fitted,
+filled every heart and glittered in every eye. The men envied, the
+women loved, all admired him. His life was a perpetual triumph; a
+brilliant and applauding stage, on which he ever played a dazzling and
+heroic part. So sudden and so startling had been his apparition, so
+vigorous and unceasing the efforts by which he had maintained his
+first overwhelming impression, and not merely by his writings, but by
+his unusual manners and eccentric life, that no one had yet found time
+to draw his breath, to observe, to inquire, and to criticise. He had
+risen, and still flamed, like a comet as wild as it was beautiful, and
+strange is it was brilliant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+We must now return to the dinner party at Lord Monteagle's. When the
+Bishop of ---- entered the room, he found nearly all the expected
+guests assembled, and was immediately presented by his host to the
+lady of the house, who received him with all that fascinating address
+for which she was celebrated, expressing the extreme delight which she
+felt at thus becoming formally acquainted with one whom her husband
+had long taught her to admire and reverence. Utterly unconscious who
+had just joined the circle, while Lord Monteagle was introducing his
+newly-arrived guest to many present, and to all of whom he was unknown
+except by reputation, Lord Cadurcis was standing apart, apparently
+wrapt in his own thoughts; but the truth is, in spite of all the
+excitement in which he lived, he had difficulty in overcoming the
+natural reserve of his disposition.
+
+'Watch Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole to a fine lady. 'Does not he
+look sublime?'
+
+'Show me him,' said the lady, eagerly. 'I have never seen him yet; I
+am actually dying to know him. You know we have just come to town.'
+
+'And have caught the raging epidemic, I see,' said Mr. Pole, with a
+sneer. 'However, there is the marvellous young gentleman! "Alone in a
+crowd," as he says in his last poem. Very interesting!'
+
+'Wonderful creature!' exclaimed the dame.
+
+'Charming!' said Mr. Pole. 'If you ask Lady Monteagle, she will
+introduce him to you, and then, perhaps, you will be fortunate enough
+to be handed to dinner by him.'
+
+'Oh! how I should like it!'
+
+'You must take care, however, not to eat; he cannot endure a woman who
+eats.'
+
+'I never do,' said the lady, simply; 'at least at dinner.'
+
+'Ah! then you will quite suit him; I dare say he will write a sonnet
+to you, and call you Thyrza.'
+
+'I wish I could get him to write some lines in my book, said the lady;
+'Charles Fox has written some; he was staying with us in the autumn,
+and he has written an ode to my little dog.'
+
+'How amiable!' said Mr. Pole; 'I dare say they are as good as his
+elegy on Mrs. Crewe's cat. But you must not talk of cats and dogs to
+Cadurcis. He is too exalted to commemorate any animal less sublime
+than a tiger or a barb.'
+
+'You forget his beautiful lines on his Newfoundland,' said the lady.
+
+'Very complimentary to us all,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'The interesting
+misanthrope!'
+
+'He looks unhappy.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'Evidently something on his conscience.'
+
+'They do whisper very odd things,' said the lady, with great
+curiosity. 'Do you think there is anything in them?'
+
+'Oh! no doubt,' said Mr. Pole; 'look at him; you can detect crime in
+every glance.'
+
+'Dear me, how shocking! I think he must be the most interesting person
+that ever lived. I should so like to know him! They say he is so very
+odd.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'He must be a man of genius; he is so unlike
+everybody; the very tie of his cravat proves it. And his hair, so
+savage and dishevelled; none but a man of genius would not wear
+powder. Watch him to-day, and you will observe that he will not
+condescend to perform the slightest act like an ordinary mortal. I
+met him at dinner yesterday at Fanshawe's, and he touched nothing but
+biscuits and soda-water. Fanshawe, you know, is famous for his cook.
+Complimentary and gratifying, was it not?'
+
+'Dear me!' said the lady, 'I am delighted to see him; and yet I hope I
+shall not sit by him at dinner. I am quite afraid of him.'
+
+'He is really awful!' said Mr. Pole.
+
+In the meantime the subject of these observations slowly withdrew to
+the further end of the saloon, apart from every one, and threw himself
+upon a couch with a somewhat discontented air. Lady Monteagle, whose
+eye had never left him for a moment, although her attentions had been
+necessarily commanded by her guests, and who dreaded the silent rages
+in which Cadurcis constantly indulged, and which, when once assumed
+for the day, were with difficulty dissipated, seized the first
+opportunity to join and soothe him.
+
+'Dear Cadurcis,' she said, 'why do you sit here? You know I am obliged
+to speak to all these odious people, and it is very cruel of you.'
+
+'You seemed to me to be extremely happy,' replied his lordship, in a
+sarcastic tone.
+
+'Now, Cadurcis, for Heaven's sake do not play with my feelings,'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, in a deprecating tone. 'Pray be amiable. If
+I think you are in one of your dark humours, it is quite impossible
+for me to attend to these people; and you know it is the only point on
+which Monteagle ever has an opinion; he insists upon my attending to
+his guests.'
+
+'If you prefer his guests to me, attend to them.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis! I ask you as a favour, a favour to me, only for
+to-day. Be kind, be amiable, you can if you like; no person can be
+more amiable; now, do!'
+
+'I am amiable,' said his lordship; 'I am perfectly satisfied, if you
+are. You made me dine here.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis!'
+
+'Have I not dined here to satisfy you?'
+
+'Yes! It was very kind.'
+
+'But, really, that I should be wearied with all the common-places of
+these creatures who come to eat your husband's cutlets, is too much,'
+said his lordship. 'And you, Gertrude, what necessity can there be in
+your troubling yourself to amuse people whom you meet every day of
+your life, and who, from the vulgar perversity of society, value you
+in exact proportion as you neglect them?'
+
+'Yes, but to-day I must be attentive; for Henry, with his usual
+thoughtlessness, has asked this new bishop to dine with us.'
+
+'The Bishop of----?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Is he coming?'
+
+'He has been in the room this quarter of an hour?'
+
+'What, Masham! Doctor Masham!' continued Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Assuredly.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis changed colour, and even sighed. He rose rather quickly,
+and said, 'I must go and speak to him.'
+
+So, quitting Lady Monteagle, he crossed the room, and with all the
+simplicity of old days, which instantly returned on him, those
+melancholy eyes sparkling with animation, and that languid form quick
+with excitement, he caught the Doctor's glance, and shook his extended
+hand with a heartiness which astonished the surrounding spectators,
+accustomed to the elaborate listlessness of his usual manner.
+
+'My dear Doctor! my dear Lord! I am glad to say,' said Cadurcis, 'this
+is the greatest and the most unexpected pleasure I ever received. Of
+all persons in the world, you are the one whom I was most anxious to
+meet.'
+
+The good Bishop appeared not less gratified with the rencounter than
+Cadurcis himself; but, in the midst of their mutual congratulations,
+dinner was announced and served; and, in due order, Lord Cadurcis
+found himself attending that fine lady, whom Mr. Horace Pole had, in
+jest, suggested should be the object of his services; while Mr. Pole
+himself was seated opposite to him at table.
+
+The lady, remembering all Mr. Pole's intimations, was really
+much frightened; she at first could scarcely reply to the casual
+observations of her neighbour, and quite resolved not to eat anything.
+But his lively and voluble conversation, his perfectly unaffected
+manner, and the nonchalance with which he helped himself to every dish
+that was offered him, soon reassured her. Her voice became a little
+firmer, her manner less embarrassed, and she even began meditating a
+delicate assault upon a fricassee.
+
+'Are you going to Ranelagh to-night?' inquired Lord Cadurcis; 'I think
+I shall take a round. There is nothing like amusement; it is the only
+thing worth living for; and I thank my destiny I am easily amused. We
+must persuade Lady Monteagle to go with us. Let us make a party, and
+return and sup. I like a supper; nothing in the world more charming
+than a supper,
+
+  A lobster salad, and champagne and chat.
+
+That is life, and delightful. Why, really, my dear madam, you eat
+nothing. You will never be able to endure the fatigues of a Ranelagh
+campaign on the sustenance of a pâté. Pole, my good fellow, will you
+take a glass of wine? We had a pleasant party yesterday at Fanshawe's,
+and apparently a capital dinner. I was sorry that I could not play my
+part; but I have led rather a raking life lately. We must go and dine
+with him again.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis' neighbour and Mr. Pole exchanged looks; and the lady,
+emboldened by the unexpected conduct of her cavalier and the exceeding
+good friends which he seemed resolved to be with her and every
+one else, began to flatter herself that she might yet obtain the
+much-desired inscription in her volume. So, after making the usual
+approaches, of having a great favour to request, which, however, she
+could not flatter herself would be granted, and which she even was
+afraid to mention; encouraged by the ready declaration of Lord
+Cadurcis, that he should think it would be quite impossible for any
+one to deny her anything, the lady ventured to state, that Mr. Fox had
+written something in her book, and she should be the most honoured and
+happiest lady in the land if--'
+
+'Oh! I shall be most happy,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'I really esteem your
+request quite an honour: you know I am only a literary amateur, and
+cannot pretend to vie with your real authors. If you want them, you
+must go to Mrs. Montagu. I would not write a line for her, and no the
+blues have quite excommunicated me. Never mind; I leave them to Miss
+Hannah More; but you, you are quite a different sort of person. What
+shall I write?'
+
+'I must leave the subject to you,' said his gratified friend.
+
+'Well, then,' said his lordship, 'I dare say you have got a lapdog or
+a broken fan; I don't think I could soar above them. I think that is
+about my tether.'
+
+This lady, though a great person, was not a beauty, and very little
+of a wit, and not calculated in any respect to excite the jealousy of
+Lady Monteagle. In the meantime that lady was quite delighted with the
+unusual animation of Lord Cadurcis, who was much the most entertaining
+member of the party. Every one present would circulate throughout
+the world that it was only at the Monteagle's that Lord Cadurcis
+condescended to be amusing. As the Bishop was seated on her right
+hand, Lady Monteagle seized the opportunity of making inquiries as to
+their acquaintance; but she only obtained from the good Masham that he
+had once resided in his lordship's neighbourhood, and had known him as
+a child, and was greatly attached to him. Her ladyship was anxious to
+obtain some juvenile anecdotes of her hero; but the Bishop contrived
+to be amusing without degenerating into gossip. She did not glean
+much, except that all his early friends were more astonished at his
+present career than the Bishop himself, who was about to add, that
+he always had some misgivings, but, recollecting where he was, he
+converted the word into a more gracious term. But if Lady Monteagle
+were not so successful as she could wish in her inquiries, she
+contrived still to speak on the, to her, ever-interesting subject, and
+consoled herself by the communications which she poured into a guarded
+yet not unwilling ear, respecting the present life and conduct of
+the Bishop's former pupil. The worthy dignitary had been prepared by
+public fame for much that was dazzling and eccentric; but it must be
+confessed he was not a little astonished by a great deal to which he
+listened. One thing, however, was clear that whatever might be the
+demeanour of Cadurcis to the circle in which he now moved, time, and
+the strange revolutions of his life, had not affected his carriage
+to his old friend. It gratified the Bishop while he listened to Lady
+Monteagle's details of the haughty, reserved, and melancholy demeanour
+of Cadurcis, which impressed every one with an idea that some superior
+being had, as a punishment, been obliged to visit their humble globe,
+to recall the apparently heartfelt cordiality with which he had
+resumed his old acquaintance with the former rector of Marringhurst.
+
+And indeed, to speak truth, the amiable and unpretending behaviour of
+Cadurcis this day was entirely attributable to the unexpected meeting
+with this old friend. In the hurry of society he could scarcely dwell
+upon the associations which it was calculated to call up; yet
+more than once he found himself quite absent, dwelling on sweet
+recollections of that Cherbury that he had so loved. And ever and anon
+the tones of a familiar voice caught his ear, so that they almost made
+him start: they were not the less striking, because, as Masham was
+seated on the same side of the table as Cadurcis, his eye had not
+become habituated to the Bishop's presence, which sometimes he almost
+doubted.
+
+He seized the first opportunity after dinner of engaging his old tutor
+in conversation. He took him affectionately by the arm, and led him,
+as if unintentionally, to a sofa apart from the rest of the company,
+and seated himself by his side. Cadurcis was agitated, for he was
+about to inquire of some whom he could not mention without emotion.
+
+'Is it long since you have seen our friends?' said his lordship, 'if
+indeed I may call them mine.'
+
+'Lady Annabel Herbert?' said the Bishop.
+
+Cadurcis bowed.
+
+'I parted from her about two months back,' continued the Bishop.
+
+'And Cherbury, dear Cherbury, is it unchanged?'
+
+'They have not resided there for more than two years.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'They have lived, of late, at Weymouth, for the benefit of the sea
+air.'
+
+'I hope neither Lady Annabel nor her daughter needs it?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, in a tone of much feeling.
+
+'Neither now, God be praised!' replied Masham; 'but Miss Herbert has
+been a great invalid.'
+
+There was a rather awkward silence. At length Lord Cadurcis said, 'We
+meet rather unexpectedly, my dear sir.'
+
+'Why, you have become a great man,' said the Bishop, with a smile;
+'and one must expect to meet you.'
+
+'Ah! my dear friend,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, with a sigh, 'I would
+willingly give a whole existence of a life like this for one year of
+happiness at Cherbury.'
+
+'Nay!' said the Bishop, with a look of good-natured mockery, 'this
+melancholy is all very well in poetry; but I always half-suspected,
+and I am quite sure now, that Cherbury was not particularly adapted to
+you.'
+
+'You mistake me,' said Cadurcis, mournfully shaking his head.
+
+'Hitherto I have not been so very wrong in my judgment respecting
+Lord Cadurcis, that I am inclined very easily to give up my opinion,'
+replied the Bishop.
+
+'I have often thought of the conversation to which you allude,'
+replied Lord Cadurcis; 'nevertheless, there is one opinion I never
+changed, one sentiment that still reigns paramount in my heart.'
+
+'You think so,' said his companion; but, perhaps, were it more than a
+sentiment, it would cease to flourish.'
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis firmly; 'the only circumstance in the world
+of which I venture to feel certain is my love for Venetia.'
+
+'It raged certainly during your last visit to Cherbury,' said the
+Bishop, 'after an interval of five years; it has been revived slightly
+to-day, after an interval of three more, by the sight of a mutual
+acquaintance, who has reminded you of her. But what have been your
+feelings in the meantime? Confess the truth, and admit you have very
+rarely spared a thought to the person to whom you fancy yourself at
+this moment so passionately devoted.'
+
+'You do not do me justice,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you are prejudiced
+against me.'
+
+'Nay! prejudice is not my humour, my good lord. I decide only from
+what I myself observe; I give my opinion to you at this moment as
+freely as I did when you last conversed with me at the abbey, and when
+I a little displeased you by speaking what you will acknowledge has
+since turned out to be the truth.'
+
+'You mean, then, to say,' said his lordship, with some excitement,
+'that you do not believe that I love Venetia?'
+
+'I think you do, at this moment,' replied Masham; 'and I think,' he
+continued, smiling, 'that you may probably continue very much in love
+with her, even during the rest of the week.'
+
+'You mock me!'
+
+'Nay! I am sincerely serious.'
+
+'What, then, do you mean?'
+
+'I mean that your imagination, my lord, dwelling for the moment with
+great power upon the idea of Venetia, becomes inflamed, and your whole
+mind is filled with her image.'
+
+'A metaphysical description of being in love,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+rather dryly.
+
+'Nay!' said Masham, 'I think the heart has something to do with that.'
+
+'But the imagination acts upon the heart,' rejoined his companion.
+
+'But it is in the nature of its influence not to endure. At this
+moment, I repeat, your lordship may perhaps love Miss Herbert; you
+may go home and muse over her memory, and even deplore in passionate
+verses your misery in being separated from her; but, in the course of
+a few days, she will be again forgotten.'
+
+'But were she mine?' urged Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Why, you would probably part from her in a year, as her father parted
+from Lady Annabel.'
+
+'Impossible! for my imagination could not conceive anything more
+exquisite than she is.'
+
+'Then it would conceive something less exquisite,' said the Bishop.
+'It is a restless quality, and is ever creative, either of good or of
+evil.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Doctor, excuse me for again calling you Doctor, it is so
+natural,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of affection.
+
+'Call me what you will, my dear lord,' said the good Bishop, whose
+heart was moved; 'I can never forget old days.'
+
+'Believe me, then,' continued Cadurcis, 'that you misjudge me in
+respect of Venetia. I feel assured that, had we married three years
+ago, I should have been a much happier man.'
+
+'Why, you have everything to make you happy,' said the Bishop; 'if you
+are not happy, who should be? You are young, and you are famous: all
+that is now wanted is to be wise.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis shrugged his shoulders. I am tired of this life,' he
+said; 'I am wearied of the same hollow bustle, and the same false
+glitter day after day. Ah! my dear friend, when I remember the happy
+hours when I used to roam through the woods of Cherbury with Venetia,
+and ramble in that delicious park, both young, both innocent, lit by
+the sunset and guided by the stars; and then remember that it has all
+ended in this, and that this is success, glory, fame, or whatever be
+the proper title to baptize the bubble, the burthen of existence is
+too great for me.'
+
+'Hush, hush!' said his friend, rising from the sofa; 'you will be
+happy if you be wise.'
+
+'But what is wisdom?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'One quality of it, in your situation, my lord, is to keep your head
+as calm as you can. Now, I must bid you good night.'
+
+The Bishop disappeared, and Lord Cadurcis was immediately surrounded
+by several fine ladies, who were encouraged by the flattering bulletin
+that his neighbour at dinner, who was among them, had given of his
+lordship's temper. They were rather disappointed to find him sullen,
+sarcastic, and even morose. As for going to Ranelagh, he declared
+that, if he had the power of awarding the punishment of his bitterest
+enemy, it would be to consign him for an hour to the barbarous
+infliction of a promenade in that temple of ennui; and as for the
+owner of the album, who, anxious about her verses, ventured to express
+a hope that his lordship would call upon her, the contemptuous bard
+gave her what he was in the habit of styling 'a look,' and quitted
+the room, without deigning otherwise to acknowledge her hopes and her
+courtesy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+We must now return to our friends the Herberts, who, having quitted
+Weymouth, without even revisiting Cherbury, are now on their journey
+to the metropolis. It was not without considerable emotion that Lady
+Annabel, after an absence of nearly nineteen years, contemplated her
+return to the scene of some of the most extraordinary and painful
+occurrences of her life. As for Venetia, who knew nothing of towns and
+cities, save from the hasty observations she had made in travelling,
+the idea of London, formed only from books and her imagination, was
+invested with even awful attributes. Mistress Pauncefort alone
+looked forward to their future residence simply with feelings of
+self-congratulation at her return, after so long an interval, to the
+theatre of former triumphs and pleasures, and where she conceived
+herself so eminently qualified to shine and to enjoy.
+
+The travellers entered town towards nightfall, by Hyde Park Corner,
+and proceeded to an hotel in St. James's Street, where Lady Annabel's
+man of business had engaged them apartments. London, with its pallid
+parish lamps, scattered at long intervals, would have presented but a
+gloomy appearance to the modern eye, habituated to all the splendour
+of gas; but to Venetia it seemed difficult to conceive a scene of more
+brilliant bustle; and she leant back in the carriage, distracted with
+the lights and the confusion of the crowded streets. When they were
+once safely lodged in their new residence, the tumult of unpacking the
+carriages had subsided, and the ceaseless tongue of Pauncefort had
+in some degree refrained from its wearying and worrying chatter,
+a feeling of loneliness, after all this agitation and excitement,
+simultaneously came over the feelings of both mother and daughter,
+though they alike repressed its expression. Lady Annabel was lost
+in many sad thoughts, and Venetia felt mournful, though she could
+scarcely define the cause. Both were silent, and they soon sought
+refuge from fatigue and melancholy in sleep.
+
+The next morning, it being now April, was fortunately bright and
+clear. It certainly was a happy fortune that the fair Venetia was not
+greeted with a fog. She rose refreshed and cheerful, and joined her
+mother, who was, however, not a little agitated by an impending visit,
+of which Venetia had been long apprised. This was from Lady Annabel's
+brother, the former ambassador, who had of late returned to his native
+country. The brother and sister had been warmly attached in youth, but
+the awful interval of time that had elapsed since they parted, filled
+Venetia's mother with many sad and serious reflections. The Earl and
+his family had been duly informed of Lady Annabel's visit to the
+metropolis, and had hastened to offer her the hospitality of their
+home; but the offer had been declined, with feelings, however, not a
+little gratified by the earnestness with which it had been proffered.
+
+Venetia was now, for the first time in her life, to see a relative.
+The anticipated meeting excited in her mind rather curiosity than
+sentiment. She could not share the agitation of her mother, and
+yet she looked forward to the arrival of her uncle with extreme
+inquisitiveness. She was not long kept in suspense. Their breakfast
+was scarcely finished, when he was announced. Lady Annabel turned
+rather pale; and Venetia, who felt herself as it were a stranger to
+her blood, would have retired, had not her mother requested her to
+remain; so she only withdrew to the back of the apartment.
+
+Her uncle was ten years the senior of his sister, but not unlike her.
+Tall, graceful, with those bland and sympathising manners that easily
+win hearts, he entered the room with a smile of affection, yet with a
+composure of deportment that expressed at the same time how sincerely
+delighted he was at the meeting, and how considerately determined, at
+the same time, not to indulge in a scene. He embraced his sister with
+tenderness, assured her that she looked as young as ever, softly
+chided her for not making his house her home, and hoped that they
+should never part again; and he then turned to his niece. A fine
+observer, one less interested in the scene than the only witnesses,
+might have detected in the Earl, notwithstanding his experienced
+breeding, no ordinary surprise and gratification at the sight of the
+individual whose relationship he was now to claim for the first time.
+
+'I must claim an uncle's privilege,' he said, in a tone of sweetness
+and some emotion, as he pressed with his own the beautiful lips of
+Venetia. 'I ought to be proud of my niece. Why, Annabel! if only for
+the honour of our family, you should not have kept this jewel so long
+enshrined in the casket of Cherbury.'
+
+The Earl remained with them some hours, and his visit was really
+prolonged by the unexpected pleasure which he found in the society of
+his relations. He would not leave them until they promised to dine
+with him that day, and mentioned that he had prevented his wife from
+calling with him that morning, because he thought, after so long a
+separation, it might be better to meet thus quietly. Then they parted
+with affectionate cordiality on both sides; the Earl enchanted to find
+delightful companions where he was half afraid he might only meet
+tiresome relatives; Lady Annabel proud of her brother, and gratified
+by his kindness; and Venetia anxious to ascertain whether all her
+relations were as charming as her uncle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+When Lady Annabel and her daughter returned from their morning drive,
+they found the visiting ticket of the Countess on the table, who had
+also left a note, with which she had provided herself in case she was
+not so fortunate as to meet her relations. The note was affectionate,
+and expressed the great delight of the writer at again meeting her
+dear sister, and forming an acquaintance with her charming niece.
+
+'More relations!' said Venetia, with a somewhat droll expression of
+countenance.
+
+At this moment the Bishop of----, who had already called twice upon
+them unsuccessfully, entered the room. The sight of this old and dear
+friend gave great joy. He came to engage them to dine with him the
+next day, having already ineffectually endeavoured to obtain them for
+permanent guests. They sat chatting so long with him, that they were
+obliged at last to bid him an abrupt adieu, and hasten and make their
+toilettes for their dinner.
+
+Their hostess received her relations with a warmth which her husband's
+praises of her sister-in-law and niece had originally prompted, but
+which their appearance and manners instantly confirmed. As all the
+Earl's children were married, their party consisted to-day only of
+themselves; but it was a happy and agreeable meeting, for every
+one was desirous of being amiable. To be sure they had not many
+recollections or associations in common, and no one recurred to the
+past; but London, and the history of its fleeting hours, was an
+inexhaustible source of amusing conversation; and the Countess seemed
+resolved that Venetia should have a brilliant season; that she should
+be much amused and much admired. Lady Annabel, however, put in a plea
+for moderation, at least until Venetia was presented; but that the
+Countess declared must be at the next drawing-room, which was early in
+the ensuing week. Venetia listened to glittering narratives of balls
+and routs, operas and theatres, breakfasts and masquerades, Ranelagh
+and the Pantheon, with the same smiling composure as if she had been
+accustomed to them all her life, instead of having been shut up in
+a garden, with no livelier or brighter companions than birds and
+flowers.
+
+After dinner, as her aunt and uncle and Lady Annabel sat round the
+fire, talking of her maternal grandfather, a subject which did not at
+all interest her, Venetia stole from her chair to a table in a distant
+part of the room, and turned over some books and music that were lying
+upon it. Among these was a literary journal, which she touched almost
+by accident, and which opened, with the name of Lord Cadurcis on the
+top of its page. This, of course, instantly attracted her attention.
+Her eye passed hastily over some sentences which greatly astonished
+her, and, extending her arm for a chair without quitting the book,
+she was soon deeply absorbed by the marvels which rapidly unfolded
+themselves to her. The article in question was an elaborate criticism
+as well of the career as the works of the noble poet; for, indeed, as
+Venetia now learnt, they were inseparably blended. She gathered from
+these pages a faint and hasty yet not altogether unfaithful conception
+of the strange revolution that had occurred in the character,
+pursuits, and position of her former companion. In that mighty
+metropolis, whose wealth and luxury and power had that morning so
+vividly impressed themselves upon her consciousness, and to the
+history of whose pleasures and brilliant and fantastic dissipation she
+had recently been listening with a lively and diverted ear, it seemed
+that, by some rapid and magical vicissitude, her little Plantagenet,
+the faithful and affectionate companion of her childhood, whose
+sorrows she had so often soothed, and who in her pure and devoted love
+had always found consolation and happiness, had become 'the observed
+of all observers;' the most remarkable where all was striking, and
+dazzling where all were brilliant!
+
+His last visit to Cherbury, and its strange consequences, then
+occurred to her; his passionate addresses, and their bitter parting.
+Here was surely matter enough for a maiden's reverie, and into a
+reverie Venetia certainly fell, from which she was roused by the voice
+of her uncle, who could not conceive what book his charming niece
+could find so interesting, and led her to feel what an ill compliment
+she was paying to all present. Venetia hastily closed the volume, and
+rose rather confused from her seat; her radiant smile was the
+best apology to her uncle: and she compensated for her previous
+inattention, by playing to him on the harpsichord. All the time,
+however, the image of Cadurcis flitted across her vision, and she
+was glad when her mother moved to retire, that she might enjoy the
+opportunity of pondering in silence and unobserved over the strange
+history that she had read.
+
+London is a wonderful place! Four-and-twenty hours back, with a
+feeling of loneliness and depression amounting to pain, Venetia had
+fled to sleep as her only refuge; now only a day had passed, and
+she had both seen and heard many things that had alike startled and
+pleased her; had found powerful and charming friends; and laid her
+head upon her pillow in a tumult of emotion that long banished slumber
+from her beautiful eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Venetia soon found that she must bid adieu for ever, in London, to her
+old habits of solitude. She soon discovered that she was never to be
+alone. Her aunt called upon them early in the morning, and said that
+the whole day must be devoted to their court dresses; and in a few
+minutes they were all whirled off to a celebrated milliner's. After
+innumerable consultations and experiments, the dress of Venetia was
+decided on; her aunt and Lady Annabel were both assured that it would
+exceed in splendour and propriety any dress at the drawing-room.
+Indeed, as the great artist added, with such a model to work from
+it would reflect but little credit on the establishment, if any
+approached Miss Herbert in the effect she must inevitably produce.
+
+While her mother was undergoing some of those attentions to which
+Venetia had recently submitted, and had retired for a few minutes into
+an adjoining apartment, our little lady of Cherbury strolled about the
+saloon in which she had been left, until her attention was attracted
+by a portrait of a young man in an oriental dress, standing very
+sublimely amid the ruins of some desert city; a palm tree in the
+distance, and by his side a crouching camel, and some recumbent
+followers slumbering amid the fallen columns.
+
+'That is Lord Cadurcis, my love,' said her aunt, who at the moment
+joined her, 'the famous poet. All the young ladies are in love with
+him. I dare say you know his works by heart.'
+
+'No, indeed, aunt,' said Venetia; 'I have never even read them; but I
+should like very much.'
+
+'Not read Lord Cadurcis' poems! Oh! we must go and get them directly
+for you. Everybody reads them. You will be looked upon quite as a
+little barbarian. We will stop the carriage at Stockdale's, and get
+them for you.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel rejoined them; and, having made all their
+arrangements, they re-entered the carriage.
+
+'Stop at Stockdale's,' said her ladyship to the servant; 'I must
+get Cadurcis' last poem for Venetia. She will be quite back in her
+learning, Annabel.'
+
+'Cadurcis' last poem!' said Lady Annabel; 'do you mean Lord Cadurcis?
+Is he a poet?'
+
+'To he sure! Well, you are countrified not to know Lord Cadurcis!'
+
+'I know him very well,' said Lady Annabel, gravely; 'but I did not
+know he was a poet.'
+
+The Countess laughed, the carriage stopped, the book was brought; Lady
+Annabel looked uneasy, and tried to catch her daughter's countenance,
+but, strange to say, for the first time in her life was quite
+unsuccessful. The Countess took the book, and immediately gave it
+Venetia. 'There, my dear,' said her aunt, 'there never was anything so
+charming. I am so provoked that Cadurcis is a Whig.'
+
+'A Whig!' said Lady Annabel; 'he was not a Whig when I knew him.'
+
+'Oh! my dear, I am afraid he is worse than a Whig. He is almost a
+rebel! But then he is such a genius! Everything is allowed, you know,
+to a genius!' said the thoughtless sister-in-law.
+
+Lady Annabel was silent; but the stillness of her emotion must not be
+judged from the stillness of her tongue. Her astonishment at all she
+had heard was only equalled by what we may justly term her horror. It
+was impossible that she could have listened to any communication at
+the same time so astounding, and to her so fearful.
+
+'We knew Lord Cadurcis when he was very young, aunt,' said Venetia, in
+a quiet tone. 'He lived near mamma, in the country.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Annabel, if you see him in town bring him to me; he is
+the most difficult person in the world to get to one's house, and I
+would give anything if he would come and dine with me.'
+
+The Countess at last set her relations down at their hotel. When Lady
+Annabel was once more alone with her daughter, she said, 'Venetia,
+dearest, give me that book your aunt lent you.'
+
+Venetia immediately handed it to her, but her mother did not open it;
+but saying, 'The Bishop dines at four, darling; I think it is time for
+us to dress,' Lady Annabel left the room.
+
+To say the truth, Venetia was less surprised than disappointed by this
+conduct of her mother's; but she was not apt to murmur, and she tried
+to dismiss the subject from her thoughts.
+
+It was with unfeigned delight that the kind-hearted Masham welcomed
+under his own roof his two best and dearest friends. He had asked
+nobody to meet them; it was settled that they were to be quite alone,
+and to talk of nothing but Cherbury and Marringhurst. When they were
+seated at table, the Bishop, who had been detained at the House of
+Lords, and been rather hurried to be in time to receive his guests,
+turned to his servant and inquired whether any one had called.
+
+'Yes, my lord, Lord Cadurcis,' was the reply.
+
+'Our old companion,' said the Bishop to Lady Annabel, with a
+smile. 'He has called upon me twice, and I have on both occasions
+unfortunately been absent.'
+
+Lady Annabel merely bowed an assent to the Bishop's remark. Venetia
+longed to speak, but found it impossible. 'What is it that represses
+me?' she asked herself. 'Is there to be another forbidden subject
+insensibly to arise between us? I must struggle against this
+indefinable despotism that seems to pervade my life.'
+
+'Have you met Lord Cadurcis, sir?' at length asked Venetia.
+
+'Once; we resumed our acquaintance at a dinner party one day; but I
+shall soon see a great deal of him, for he has just taken his seat. He
+is of age, you know.'
+
+'I hope he has come to years of discretion in every sense,' said Lady
+Annabel; 'but I fear not.'
+
+'Oh, my dear lady!' said the Bishop, 'he has become a great man; he is
+our star. I assure you there is nobody in London talked of but Lord
+Cadurcis. He asked me a great deal after you and Cherbury. He will be
+delighted to see you.'
+
+'I cannot say,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that the desire of meeting is
+at all mutual. From all I hear, our connections and opinions are very
+different, and I dare say our habits likewise.'
+
+'My aunt lent us his new poem to-day,' said Venetia, boldly.
+
+'Have you read it?' asked the Bishop.
+
+'I am no admirer of modern poetry,' said Lady Annabel, somewhat
+tartly.
+
+'Poetry of any kind is not much in my way,' said the Bishop, 'but if
+you like to read his poems, I will lend them to you, for he gave me a
+copy; esteemed a great honour, I assure you.'
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Lady Annabel, 'both Venetia and myself
+are much engaged now; and I do not wish her to read while she is in
+London. When we return to Cherbury she will have abundance of time, if
+desirable.'
+
+Both Venetia and her worthy host felt that the present subject of
+conversation was not agreeable to Lady Annabel, and it was changed.
+They fell upon more gracious topics, and in spite of this somewhat
+sullen commencement the meeting was quite as delightful as they
+anticipated. Lady Annabel particularly exerted herself to please, and,
+as was invariably the case under such circumstances with this lady,
+she was eminently successful; she apparently endeavoured, by her
+remarkable kindness to her daughter, to atone for any unpleasant
+feeling which her previous manner might for an instant have
+occasioned. Venetia watched her beautiful and affectionate parent,
+as Lady Annabel now dwelt with delight upon the remembrance of their
+happy home, and now recurred to the anxiety she naturally felt about
+her daughter's approaching presentation, with feelings of love and
+admiration, which made her accuse herself for the recent rebellion of
+her heart. She thought only of her mother's sorrows, and her devotion
+to her child; and, grateful for the unexpected course of circumstances
+which seemed to be leading every member of their former little society
+to honour and happiness, she resolved to persist in that career of
+duty and devotion to her mother, from which it seemed to her she had
+never deviated for a moment but to experience sorrow, misfortune, and
+remorse. Never did Venetia receive her mother's accustomed embrace
+and blessing with more responsive tenderness and gratitude than
+this night. She banished Cadurcis and his poems from her thoughts,
+confident that, so long as her mother approved neither of her
+continuing his acquaintance, nor perusing his writings, it was well
+that the one should be a forgotten tie, and the other a sealed book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Among the intimate acquaintances of Lady Annabel's brother was the
+nobleman who had been a minister during the American war, and who
+had also been the guardian of Lord Cadurcis, of whom, indeed, he was
+likewise a distant relative. He had called with his wife on Lady
+Annabel, after meeting her and her daughter at her brother's, and had
+cultivated her acquaintance with great kindness and assiduity, so
+that Lady Annabel had found it impossible to refuse his invitation to
+dinner.
+
+This dinner occurred a few days after the visit of the Herberts to the
+Bishop, and that excellent personage, her own family, and some others
+equally distinguished, but all of the ministerial party, were invited
+to meet her. Lady Annabel found herself placed at table between a
+pompous courtier, who, being a gourmand, was not very prompt to
+disturb his enjoyment by conversation, and a young man whom she found
+very agreeable, and who at first, indeed, attracted her attention by
+his resemblance to some face with which she felt she was familiar,
+and yet which she was not successful in recalling. His manners were
+remarkably frank and ingenuous, yet soft and refined. Without having
+any peculiar brilliancy of expression, he was apt and fluent, and his
+whole demeanour characterised by a gentle modesty that was highly
+engaging. Apparently he had travelled a great deal, for he more than
+once alluded to his experience of foreign countries; but this was
+afterwards explained by Lady Annabel discovering, from an observation
+he let fall, that he was a sailor. A passing question from an opposite
+guest also told her that he was a member of parliament. While she was
+rather anxiously wishing to know who he might be, and congratulating
+herself that one in whose favour she was so much prepossessed should
+be on the right side, their host saluted him from the top of the
+table, and said, 'Captain Cadurcis, a glass of wine.'
+
+The countenance was now explained. It was indeed Lord Cadurcis whom he
+resembled, though his eyes were dark blue, and his hair light brown.
+This then was that cousin who had been sent to sea to make his
+fortune, and whom Lady Annabel had a faint recollection of poor Mrs.
+Cadurcis once mentioning. George Cadurcis had not exactly made his
+fortune, but he had distinguished himself in his profession, and
+especially in Rodney's victory, and had fought his way up to the
+command of a frigate. The frigate had recently been paid off, and he
+had called to pay his respects to his noble relative with the hope of
+obtaining his interest for a new command. The guardian of his
+cousin, mortified with the conduct of his hopeful ward, was not very
+favourably impressed towards any one who bore the name of Cadurcis;
+yet George, with no pretence, had a winning honest manner that made
+friends; his lordship took a fancy to him, and, as he could not at the
+moment obtain him a ship, he did the next best thing for him in his
+power; a borough was vacant, and he put him into parliament.
+
+'Do you know,' said Lady Annabel to her neighbour, 'I have been
+fancying all dinner time that we had met before; but I find it is that
+you only resemble one with whom I was once acquainted.'
+
+'My cousin!' said the Captain; 'he will be very mortified when I go
+home, if I tell him your ladyship speaks of his acquaintance as one
+that is past.'
+
+'It is some years since we met,' said Lady Annabel, in a more reserved
+tone.
+
+'Plantagenet can never forget what he owes to you,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'How often has he spoken to me of you and Miss Herbert! It
+was only the other night; yes! not a week ago; that he made me sit up
+with him all night, while he was telling stories of Cherbury: you see
+I am quite familiar with the spot,' he added, smiling.
+
+'You are very intimate with your cousin, I see,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I live a great deal with him,' said George Cadurcis. 'You know we had
+never met or communicated; and it was not Plantagenet's fault, I am
+sure; for of all the generous, amiable, lovable beings, Cadurcis is
+the best I ever met with in this world. Ever since we knew each other
+he has been a brother to me; and though our politics and opinions are
+so opposed, and we naturally live in such a different circle, he would
+have insisted even upon my having apartments in his house; nor is it
+possible for me to give you the slightest idea of the delicate and
+unceasing kindness I experience from him. If we had lived together all
+our lives, it would be impossible to be more united.'
+
+This eulogium rather softened Lady Annabel's heart; she even observed,
+'I always thought Lord Cadurcis naturally well disposed; I always
+hoped he would turn out well; but I was afraid, from what I heard, he
+was much changed. He shows, however, his sense and good feeling in
+selecting you for his friend; for you are his natural one,' she added,
+after a momentary pause.
+
+'And then you know,' he continued, 'it is so purely kind of him; for
+of course I am not fit to be a companion for Cadurcis, and perhaps, as
+far as that, no one is. Of course we have not a thought in common. I
+know nothing but what I have picked up in a rough life; and he, you
+know, is the cleverest person that ever lived, at least I think so.'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled.
+
+'Well, he is very young,' she observed, 'much your junior, Captain
+Cadurcis; and I hope he will yet prove a faithful steward of the great
+gifts that God has given him.'
+
+'I would stake all I hold dear,' said the Captain, with great
+animation, 'that Cadurcis turns out well. He has such a good heart.
+Ah! Lady Annabel, if he be now and then a little irregular, only think
+of the temptations that assail him. Only one-and-twenty, his own
+master, and all London at his feet. It is too much for any one's head.
+But say or think what the world may, I know him better than they do;
+and I know there is not a finer creature in existence. I hope his old
+friends will not desert him,' added Captain Cadurcis, with a smile
+which, seemed to deprecate the severity of Lady Annabel; 'for in spite
+of all his fame and prosperity, perhaps, after all, this is the time
+when he most needs them.'
+
+'Very possibly,' said her ladyship rather dryly.
+
+While the mother was engaged in this conversation with her neighbour
+respecting her former interesting acquaintance, such was the fame of
+Lord Cadurcis then in the metropolis, that he also formed the topic of
+conversation at another part of the table, to which the daughter was
+an attentive listener. The tone in which he was spoken of, however,
+was of a very different character. While no one disputed his genius,
+his principles, temper, and habits of life were submitted to the
+severest scrutiny; and it was with blended feelings of interest and
+astonishment that Venetia listened to the detail of wild opinions,
+capricious conduct, and extravagant and eccentric behaviour ascribed
+to the companion of her childhood, who had now become the spoiled
+child of society. A shrewd gentleman, who had taken an extremely
+active part in this discussion, inquired of Venetia, next to whom he
+was seated, whether she had read his lordship's last poem. He was
+extremely surprised when Venetia answered in the negative; but he
+seized the opportunity of giving her an elaborate criticism on the
+poetical genius of Cadurcis. 'As for his style,' said the critic, 'no
+one can deny that is his own, and he will last by his style; as for
+his philosophy, and all these wild opinions of his, they will pass
+away, because they are not genuine, they are not his own, they are
+borrowed. He will outwrite them; depend upon it, he will. The fact is,
+as a friend of mine observed the other day, Herbert's writings have
+turned his head. Of course you could know nothing about them, but
+there are wonderful things in them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I believe it most sincerely,' said Venetia.
+
+The critic stared at his neighbour. 'Hush!' said he, 'his wife and
+daughter are here. We must not talk of these things. You know Lady
+Annabel Herbert? There she is; a very fine woman too. And that is his
+daughter there, I believe, that dark girl with a turned-up nose. I
+cannot say she warrants the poetical address to her:
+
+  My precious pearl the false and glittering world
+  Has ne'er polluted with, its garish light!
+
+She does not look much like a pearl, does she? She should keep in
+solitude, eh?'
+
+The ladies rose and relieved Venetia from her embarrassment.
+
+After dinner Lady Annabel introduced George Cadurcis to her daughter;
+and, seated by them both, he contrived without effort, and without the
+slightest consciousness of success, to confirm the pleasing impression
+in his favour which he had already made, and, when they parted, it was
+even with a mutual wish that they might meet again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was the night after the drawing-room. Lord Cadurcis was at Brookes'
+dining at midnight, having risen since only a few hours. Being a
+malcontent, he had ceased to attend the Court, where his original
+reception had been most gracious, which he had returned by some
+factious votes, and a caustic lampoon.
+
+A party of young men entered, from the Court Ball, which in those days
+always terminated at midnight, whence the guests generally proceeded
+to Ranelagh; one or two of them seated themselves at the table at
+which Cadurcis was sitting. They were full of a new beauty who had
+been presented. Their violent and even extravagant encomiums excited
+his curiosity. Such a creature had never been seen, she was peerless,
+the most radiant of acknowledged charms had been dimmed before her.
+Their Majesties had accorded to her the most marked reception. A
+Prince of the blood had honoured her with his hand. Then they began to
+expatiate with fresh enthusiasm on her unparalleled loveliness.
+
+'O Cadurcis,' said a young noble, who was one of his extreme admirers,
+'she is the only creature I ever beheld worthy of being one of your
+heroines.'
+
+'Whom are you talking about?' asked Cadurcis in a rather listless
+tone.
+
+'The new beauty, of course.'
+
+'And who may she be?'
+
+'Miss Herbert, to be sure. Who speaks or thinks of any one else?'
+
+'What, Ve----, I mean Miss Herbert?' exclaimed Cadurcis, with no
+little energy.
+
+'Yes. Do you know her?'
+
+'Do you mean to say--' and Cadurcis stopped and rose from the table,
+and joined the party round the fire. 'What Miss Herbert is it?' he
+added, after a short pause.
+
+'Why _the_ Miss Herbert; Herbert's daughter, to be sure. She was
+presented to-day by her mother.
+
+'Lady Annabel?'
+
+'The same.'
+
+'Presented to-day!' said Cadurcis audibly, yet speaking as it were to
+himself. 'Presented to-day! Presented! How strange!'
+
+'So every one thinks; one of the strangest things that ever happened,'
+remarked a bystander.
+
+'And I did not even know they were in town,' continued Cadurcis, for,
+from his irregular hours, he had not seen his cousin since the party
+of yesterday. He began walking up and down the room, muttering,
+'Masham, Weymouth, London, presented at Court, and I know nothing. How
+life changes! Venetia at Court, my Venetia!' Then turning round and
+addressing the young nobleman who had first spoken to him, he asked
+'if the ball were over.'
+
+'Yes; all the world are going to Ranelagh. Are you inclined to take a
+round?'
+
+'I have a strange fancy,' said Cadurcis, 'and if you will go with me,
+I will take you in my vis-à-vis. It is here.'
+
+This was an irresistible invitation, and in a few minutes the
+companions were on their way; Cadurcis, apparently with no peculiar
+interest in the subject, leading the conversation very artfully to
+the presentation of Miss Herbert. His friend was heartily inclined to
+gratify his curiosity. He gave him ample details of Miss Herbert's
+person: even of her costume, and the sensation both produced; how she
+was presented by her mother, who, after so long an estrangement from
+the world, scarcely excited less impression, and the remarkable
+cordiality with which both mother and daughter were greeted by the
+sovereign and his royal consort.
+
+The two young noblemen found Ranelagh crowded, but the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis occasioned a sensation the moment he was recognised.
+Everywhere the whisper went round, and many parties crowded near to
+catch a glimpse of the hero of the day. 'Which is he? That fair,
+tall young man? No, the other to be sure. Is it really he? How
+distinguished! How melancholy! Quite the poet. Do you think he is
+really so unhappy as he looks? I would sooner see him than the King
+and Queen. He seems very young, but then he has seen so much of the
+world! Fine eyes, beautiful hair! I wonder who is his friend? How
+proud he must be! Who is that lady he bowed to? That is the Duke
+of ---- speaking to him,' Such were the remarks that might be caught in
+the vicinity of Lord Cadurcis as he took his round, gazed at by the
+assembled crowd, of whom many knew him only by fame, for the charm of
+Ranelagh was that it was rather a popular than a merely fashionable
+assembly. Society at large blended with the Court, which maintained
+and renewed its influence by being witnessed under the most graceful
+auspices. The personal authority of the aristocracy has decreased with
+the disappearance of Ranelagh and similar places of amusement, where
+rank was not exclusive, and luxury by the gratification it occasioned
+others seemed robbed of half its selfism.
+
+In his second round, Lord Cadurcis recognised the approach of the
+Herberts. They formed the portion of a large party. Lady Annabel was
+leaning on her brother, whom Cadurcis knew by sight; Venetia was at
+the side of her aunt, and several gentlemen were hovering about them;
+among them, to his surprise, his cousin, George Cadurcis, in his
+uniform, for he had been to Court and to the Court Ball. Venetia was
+talking with animation. She was in her Court dress and in powder. Her
+appearance was strange to him. He could scarcely recognise the
+friend of his childhood; but without any doubt in all that assembly,
+unrivalled in the whole world for beauty, grace, and splendour, she
+was without a parallel; a cynosure on which all eyes were fixed.
+
+So occupied were the ladies of the Herbert party by the conversation
+of their numerous and brilliant attendants, that the approach of any
+one else but Lord Cadurcis might have been unnoticed by them, but
+a hundred tongues before he drew nigh had prepared Venetia for his
+appearance. She was indeed most anxious to behold him, and though she
+was aware that her heart fluttered not slightly as the moment was at
+hand, she commanded her gaze, and her eyes met his, although she was
+doubtful whether he might choose or care to recognise her. He bowed
+almost to the ground; and when Venetia had raised her responsive head
+he had passed by.
+
+'Why, Cadurcis, you know Miss Herbert?' said his friend in a tone of
+some astonishment.
+
+'Well; but it is a long time since I have seen her.'
+
+'Is she not beautiful?'
+
+'I never doubted on that subject; I tell you, Scrope, we must contrive
+to join her party. I wish we had some of our friends among them. Here
+comes the Monteagle; aid me to escape her.'
+
+The most fascinating smile failed in arresting the progress of
+Cadurcis; fortunately, the lady was the centre of a brilliant band;
+all that he had to do, therefore, was boldly to proceed.
+
+'Do you think my cousin is altered since you knew him?' inquired
+George Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I scarcely had time to observe him,' she replied.
+
+'I wish you would let me bring him to you. He did not know until this
+moment you were in town. I have not seen him since we met yesterday.'
+
+'Oh, no,' said Venetia. 'Do not disturb him.'
+
+In time, however, Lord Cadurcis was again in sight; and now without
+any hesitation he stopped, and falling into the line by Miss Herbert,
+he addressed her: 'I am proud of being remembered by Miss Herbert,' he
+said.
+
+'I am most happy to meet you,' replied Venetia, with unaffected
+sincerity.
+
+'And Lady Annabel, I have not been able to catch her eye: is she quite
+well? I was ignorant that you were in London until I heard of your
+triumph this night.'
+
+The Countess whispered her niece, and Venetia accordingly presented
+Lord Cadurcis to her aunt. This was a most gratifying circumstance to
+him. He was anxious, by some means or other, to effect his entrance
+into her circle; and he had an irresistible suspicion that Lady
+Annabel no longer looked upon him with eyes of favour. So he resolved
+to enlist the aunt as his friend. Few persons could be more winning
+than Cadurcis, when he willed it; and every attempt to please from one
+whom all emulated to gratify and honour, was sure to be successful.
+The Countess, who, in spite of politics, was a secret votary of his,
+was quite prepared to be enchanted. She congratulated herself
+on forming, as she had long wished, an acquaintance with one so
+celebrated. She longed to pass Lady Monteagle in triumph. Cadurcis
+improved his opportunity to the utmost. It was impossible for any
+one to be more engaging; lively, yet at the same time gentle, and
+deferential with all his originality. He spoke, indeed, more to the
+aunt than to Venetia, but when he addressed the latter, there was
+a melting, almost a mournful tenderness in his tones, that alike
+affected her heart and charmed her imagination. Nor could she be
+insensible to the gratification she experienced as she witnessed,
+every instant, the emotion his presence excited among the passers-by,
+and of which Cadurcis himself seemed so properly and so utterly
+unconscious. And this was Plantagenet!
+
+Lord Cadurcis spoke of his cousin, who, on his joining the party, had
+assisted the arrangement by moving to the other side; and he spoke of
+him with a regard which pleased Venetia, though Cadurcis envied him
+his good fortune in having the advantage of a prior acquaintance
+with Miss Herbert in town; 'but then we are old acquaintances in the
+country,' he added, half in a playful, half in a melancholy tone, 'are
+we not?'
+
+'It is a long time that we have known each other, and it is a long
+time since we have met,' replied Venetia.
+
+'A delicate reproach,' said Cadurcis; 'but perhaps rather my
+misfortune than my fault. My thoughts have been often, I might say
+ever, at Cherbury.'
+
+'And the abbey; have you forgotten the abbey?'
+
+'I have never been near it since a morning you perhaps remember,' said
+his lordship in a low voice. 'Ah! Miss Herbert,' he continued, with
+a sigh, 'I was young then; I have lived to change many opinions, and
+some of which you then disapproved.'
+
+The party stopped at a box just vacant, and in which the ladies seated
+themselves while their carriages were inquired for. Lord Cadurcis,
+with a rather faltering heart, went up to pay his respects to
+Venetia's mother. Lady Annabel received him with a courtesy, that
+however was scarcely cordial, but the Countess instantly presented
+him to her husband with an unction which a little astonished her
+sister-in-law. Then a whisper, but unobserved, passed between the Earl
+and his lady, and in a minute Lord Cadurcis had been invited to dine
+with them on the next day, and meet his old friends from the country.
+Cadurcis was previously engaged, but hesitated not a moment in
+accepting the invitation. The Monteagle party now passed by; the
+lady looked a little surprised at the company in which she found her
+favourite, and not a little mortified by his neglect. What business
+had Cadurcis to be speaking to that Miss Herbert? Was it not enough
+that the whole day not another name had scarcely crossed her ear, but
+the night must even witness the conquest of Lord Cadurcis by the
+new beauty? It was such bad ton, it was so unlike him, it was so
+underbred, for a person of his position immediately to bow before the
+new idol of the hour, and a Tory girl too! It was the last thing
+she could have expected from him. She should, on the contrary,
+have thought that the universal admiration which this Miss Herbert
+commanded, would have been exactly the reason why a man like Cadurcis
+would have seemed almost unconscious of her existence. She determined
+to remonstrate with him; and she was sure of a speedy opportunity, for
+he was to dine with her on the morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Notwithstanding Lady Annabel's reserved demeanour, Lord Cadurcis,
+supported by the presence of his cousin, whom he had discovered to be
+a favourite of that lady, ventured to call upon her the next day, but
+she was out. They were to meet, however, at dinner, where Cadurcis
+determined to omit no opportunity to propitiate her. The Countess had
+a great deal of tact, and she contrived to make up a party to receive
+him, in which there were several of his friends, among them his cousin
+and the Bishop of----, and no strangers who were not, like herself,
+his great admirers; but if she had known more, she need not have given
+herself this trouble, for there was a charm among her guests of which
+she was ignorant, and Cadurcis went determined to please and to be
+pleased.
+
+At dinner he was seated next to Lady Annabel, and it was impossible
+for any person to be more deferential, soft, and insinuating. He spoke
+of old days with emotion which he did not attempt to suppress; he
+alluded to the present with infinite delicacy. But it was very
+difficult to make way. Lady Annabel was courteous, but she was
+reserved. His lively reminiscences elicited from her no corresponding
+sentiment; and no art would induce her to dwell upon the present. If
+she only would have condescended to compliment him, it would have
+given him an opportunity of expressing his distaste of the life which
+he now led, and a description of the only life which he wished to
+lead; but Lady Annabel studiously avoided affording him any opening
+of the kind. She treated him like a stranger. She impressed upon him
+without effort that she would only consider him an acquaintance. How
+Cadurcis, satiated with the incense of the whole world, sighed for one
+single congratulation from Lady Annabel! Nothing could move her.
+
+'I was so surprised to meet you last night,' at length he again
+observed. 'I have made so many inquiries after you. Our dear friend
+the Bishop was, I fear, almost wearied with my inquiries after
+Cherbury. I know not how it was, I felt quite a pang when I heard that
+you had left it, and that all these years, when I have been conjuring
+up so many visions of what was passing under that dear roof, you were
+at Weymouth.'
+
+'Yes. We were at Weymouth some time.'
+
+'But do not you long to see Cherbury again? I cannot tell you how
+I pant for it. For my part, I have seen the world, and I have seen
+enough of it. After all, the end of all our exertions is to be happy
+at home; that is the end of everything; don't you think so?'
+
+'A happy home is certainly a great blessing,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and a rare one.'
+
+'But why should it be rare?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is our own fault,' said Lady Annabel; 'our vanity drives us from
+our hearths.'
+
+'But we soon return again, and calm and cooled. For my part, I have no
+object in life but to settle down at the old abbey, and never to quit
+again our woods. But I shall lead a dull life without my neighbours,'
+he added, with a smile, and in a tone half-coaxing.
+
+'I suppose you never see Lord ---- now?' said Lady Annabel, mentioning
+his late guardian. There was, as Cadurcis fancied, some sarcasm in the
+question, though not in the tone in which it was asked.
+
+'No, I never see him,' his lordship answered firmly; 'we differ in our
+opinions, and I differ from him with regret; but I differ from a sense
+of duty, and therefore I have no alternative.'
+
+'The claims of duty are of course paramount,' observed Lady Annabel.
+
+'You know my cousin?' said Cadurcis, to turn the conversation.
+
+'Yes, and I like him much; he appears to be a sensible, amiable
+person, of excellent principles.'
+
+'I am not bound to admire George's principles,' said Lord
+Cadurcis, gaily; 'but I respect them, because I know that they are
+conscientious. I love George; he is my only relation, and he is my
+friend.'
+
+'I trust he will always be your friend, for I think you will then, at
+least, know one person on whom you can depend.'
+
+'I believe it. The friendships of the world are wind.'
+
+'I am surprised to hear you say so,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Why, Lady Annabel?'
+
+'You have so many friends.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis smiled. 'I wish,' he said, after a little hesitation,
+'if only for "Auld lang syne," I might include Lady Annabel Herbert
+among them.'
+
+'I do not think there is any basis for friendship between us, my
+lord,' she said, very dryly.
+
+'The past must ever be with me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I should
+have thought a sure and solid one.'
+
+'Our opinions on all subjects are so adverse, that I must believe that
+there could be no great sympathy in our feelings.'
+
+'My feelings are beyond my control,' he replied; 'they are, and must
+ever be, totally independent of my opinions.'
+
+Lady Annabel did not reply. His lordship felt baffled, but he was
+resolved to make one more effort.
+
+'Do you know,' he said, 'I can scarcely believe myself in London
+to-day? To be sitting next to you, to see Miss Herbert, to hear Dr.
+Masham's voice. Oh! does it not recall Cherbury, or Marringhurst, or
+that day at Cadurcis, when you were so good as to smile over my rough
+repast? Ah! Lady Annabel, those days were happy! those were feelings
+that can never die! All the glitter and hubbub of the world can never
+make me forget them, can never make you, I hope, Lady Annabel, quite
+recall them with an effort. We were friends then: let us be friends
+now.'
+
+'I am too old to cultivate new friendships,' said Lady Annabel; 'and
+if we are to be friends, Lord Cadurcis, I am sorry to say that, after
+the interval that has occurred since we last parted, we should have to
+begin again.'
+
+'It is a long time,' said Cadurcis, mournfully, 'a very long time, and
+one, in spite of what the world may think, to which I cannot look back
+with any self-congratulation. I wished three years ago never to leave
+Cadurcis again. Indeed I did; and indeed it was not my fault that I
+quitted it.'
+
+'It was no one's fault, I hope. Whatever the cause may have been, I
+have ever remained quite ignorant of it. I wished, and wish, to
+remain ignorant of it. I, for one, have ever considered it the wise
+dispensation of a merciful Providence.'
+
+Cadurcis ground his teeth; a dark look came over him which, when
+once it rose on his brow, was with difficulty dispelled; and for the
+remainder of the dinner he continued silent and gloomy.
+
+He was, however, not unobserved by Venetia. She had watched his
+evident attempts to conciliate her mother with lively interest; she
+had witnessed their failure with sincere sorrow. In spite of that
+stormy interview, the results of which, in his hasty departure, and
+the severance of their acquaintance, she had often regretted, she had
+always retained for him the greatest affection. During these three
+years he had still, in her inmost heart, remained her own Plantagenet,
+her adopted brother, whom she loved, and in whose welfare her feelings
+were deeply involved. The mysterious circumstances of her birth, and
+the discoveries to which they had led, had filled her mind with a
+fanciful picture of human nature, over which she had long brooded. A
+great poet had become her ideal of a man. Sometimes she had sighed,
+when musing over her father and Plantagenet on the solitary seashore
+at Weymouth, that Cadurcis, instead of being the merely amiable, and
+somewhat narrow-minded being that she supposed, had not been invested
+with those brilliant and commanding qualities which she felt could
+alone master her esteem. Often had she, in those abstracted hours,
+played with her imagination in combining the genius of her father with
+the soft heart of that friend to whom she was so deeply attached. She
+had wished, in her reveries, that Cadurcis might have been a great
+man; that he might have existed in an atmosphere of glory amid the
+plaudits and admiration of his race; and that then he might have
+turned from all that fame, so dear to them both, to the heart which
+could alone sympathise with the native simplicity of his childhood.
+
+The ladies withdrew. The Bishop and another of the guests joined them
+after a short interval. The rest remained below, and drank their wine
+with the freedom not unusual in those days, Lord Cadurcis among them,
+although it was not his habit. But he was not convivial, though he
+never passed the bottle untouched. He was in one of those dark humours
+of which there was a latent spring in his nature, but which in old
+days had been kept in check by his simple life, his inexperienced
+mind, and the general kindness that greeted him, and which nothing but
+the caprice and perversity of his mother could occasionally develope.
+But since the great revolution in his position, since circumstances
+had made him alike acquainted with his nature, and had brought all
+society to acknowledge its superiority; since he had gained and felt
+his irresistible power, and had found all the world, and all the
+glory of it, at his feet, these moods had become more frequent. The
+slightest reaction in the self-complacency that was almost unceasingly
+stimulated by the applause of applauded men and the love of the
+loveliest women, instantly took the shape and found refuge in the
+immediate form of the darkest spleen, generally, indeed, brooding in
+silence, and, if speaking, expressing itself only in sarcasm. Cadurcis
+was indeed, as we have already described him, the spoiled child of
+society; a froward and petted darling, not always to be conciliated by
+kindness, but furious when neglected or controlled. He was habituated
+to triumph; it had been his lot to come, to see, and to conquer; even
+the procrastination of certain success was intolerable to him; his
+energetic volition could not endure a check. To Lady Annabel Herbert,
+indeed, he was not exactly what he was to others; there was a spell
+in old associations from which he unconsciously could not emancipate
+himself, and from which it was his opinion he honoured her in not
+desiring to be free. He had his reasons for wishing to regain his old,
+his natural influence, over her heart; he did not doubt for an instant
+that, if Cadurcis sued, success must follow the condescending effort.
+He had sued, and he had been met with coldness, almost with disdain.
+He had addressed her in those terms of tenderness which experience
+had led him to believe were irresistible, yet to which he seldom had
+recourse, for hitherto he had not been under the degrading necessity
+of courting. He had dwelt with fondness on the insignificant past,
+because it was connected with her; he had regretted, or affected
+even to despise, the glorious present, because it seemed, for some
+indefinite cause, to have estranged him from her hearth. Yes! he had
+humbled himself before her; he had thrown with disdain at her feet all
+that dazzling fame and expanding glory which seemed his peculiar and
+increasing privilege. He had delicately conveyed to her that even
+these would be sacrificed, not only without a sigh, but with cheerful
+delight, to find himself once more living, as of old, in the limited
+world of her social affections. Three years ago he had been rejected
+by the daughter, because he was an undistinguished youth. Now the
+mother recoiled from his fame. And who was this woman? The same cold,
+stern heart that had alienated the gifted Herbert; the same narrow,
+rigid mind that had repudiated ties that every other woman in the
+world would have gloried to cherish and acknowledge. And with her he
+had passed his prejudiced youth, and fancied, like an idiot, that he
+had found sympathy! Yes, so long as he was a slave, a mechanical,
+submissive slave, bowing his mind to all the traditionary bigotry
+which she adored, never daring to form an opinion for himself,
+worshipping her idol, custom, and labouring by habitual hypocrisy to
+perpetuate the delusions of all around her!
+
+In the meantime, while Lord Cadurcis was chewing the cud of these
+bitter feelings, we will take the opportunity of explaining the
+immediate cause of Lady Annabel's frigid reception of his friendly
+advances. All that she had heard of Cadurcis, all the information she
+had within these few days so rapidly acquired of his character and
+conduct, were indeed not calculated to dispose her to witness the
+renewal of their intimacy with feelings of remarkable satisfaction.
+But this morning she had read his poem, the poem that all London was
+talking of, and she had read it with horror. She looked upon Cadurcis
+as a lost man. With her, indeed, since her marriage, an imaginative
+mind had become an object of terror; but there were some peculiarities
+in the tone of Cadurcis' genius, which magnified to excess her general
+apprehension on this head. She traced, in every line, the evidences
+of a raging vanity, which she was convinced must prompt its owner
+to sacrifice, on all occasions, every feeling of duty to its
+gratification. Amid all the fervour of rebellious passions, and the
+violence of a wayward mind, a sentiment of profound egotism appeared
+to her impressed on every page she perused. Great as might have been
+the original errors of Herbert, awful as in her estimation were the
+crimes to which they had led him, they might in the first instance be
+traced rather to a perverted view of society than of himself. But self
+was the idol of Cadurcis; self distorted into a phantom that seemed
+to Lady Annabel pregnant not only with terrible crimes, but with the
+basest and most humiliating vices. The certain degradation which in
+the instance of her husband had been the consequence of a bad system,
+would, in her opinion, in the case of Cadurcis, be the result of a
+bad nature; and when she called to mind that there had once been a
+probability that this individual might have become the husband of her
+Venetia, her child whom it had been the sole purpose of her life to
+save from the misery of which she herself had been the victim; that
+she had even dwelt on the idea with complacency, encouraged its
+progress, regretted its abrupt termination, but consoled herself by
+the flattering hope that time, with even more favourable auspices,
+would mature it into fulfilment; she trembled, and turned pale.
+
+It was to the Bishop that, after dinner, Lady Annabel expressed some
+of the feelings which the reappearance of Cadurcis had occasioned her.
+
+'I see nothing but misery for his future,' she exclaimed; 'I tremble
+for him when he addresses me. In spite of the glittering surface on
+which he now floats, I foresee only a career of violence, degradation,
+and remorse.'
+
+'He is a problem difficult to solve,' replied Masham; 'but there are
+elements not only in his character, but his career, so different from
+those of the person of whom we were speaking, that I am not inclined
+at once to admit, that the result must necessarily be the same.'
+
+'I see none,' replied Lady Annabel; 'at least none of sufficient
+influence to work any material change.'
+
+'What think you of his success?' replied Masham. 'Cadurcis is
+evidently proud of it. With all his affected scorn of the world, he
+is the slave of society. He may pique the feelings of mankind, but I
+doubt whether he will outrage them.'
+
+'He is on such a dizzy eminence,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that I do not
+believe he is capable of calculating so finely. He does not believe, I
+am sure, in the possibility of resistance. His vanity will tempt him
+onwards.'
+
+'Not to persecution,' said Masham. 'Now, my opinion of Cadurcis is,
+that his egotism, or selfism, or whatever you may style it, will
+ultimately preserve him from any very fatal, from any irrecoverable
+excesses. He is of the world, worldly. All his works, all his conduct,
+tend only to astonish mankind. He is not prompted by any visionary
+ideas of ameliorating his species. The instinct of self-preservation
+will serve him as ballast.'
+
+'We shall see,' said Lady Annabel; 'for myself, whatever may be his
+end, I feel assured that great and disgraceful vicissitudes are in
+store for him.'
+
+'It is strange after what, in comparison with such extraordinary
+changes, must be esteemed so brief an interval,' observed Masham, with
+a smile, 'to witness such a revolution in his position. I often think
+to myself, can this indeed be our little Plantagenet?'
+
+'It is awful!' said Lady Annabel; 'much more than strange. For myself,
+when I recall certain indications of his feelings when he was last at
+Cadurcis, and think for a moment of the results to which they might
+have led, I shiver; I assure you, my dear lord, I tremble from head to
+foot. And I encouraged him! I smiled with fondness on his feelings! I
+thought I was securing the peaceful happiness of my child! What can we
+trust to in this world! It is too dreadful to dwell upon! It must have
+been an interposition of Providence that Venetia escaped.'
+
+'Dear little Venetia,' exclaimed the good Bishop; 'for I believe I
+shall call her little Venetia to the day of my death. How well she
+looks to-night! Her aunt is, I think, very fond of her! See!'
+
+'Yes, it pleases me,' said Lady Annabel; but I do wish my sister was
+not such an admirer of Lord Cadurcis' poems. You cannot conceive how
+uneasy it makes me. I am quite annoyed that he was asked here to-day.
+Why ask him?'
+
+'Oh! there is no harm,' said Masham; 'you must forget the past. By all
+accounts, Cadurcis is not a marrying man. Indeed, as I understood,
+marriage with him is at present quite out of the question. And as for
+Venetia, she rejected him before, and she will, if necessary, reject
+him again. He has been a brother to her, and after that he can be no
+more. Girls never fall in love with those with whom they are bred up.'
+
+'I hope, I believe there is no occasion for apprehension,' replied
+Lady Annabel; 'indeed, it has scarcely entered my head. The very
+charms he once admired in Venetia can have no sway over him, as
+I should think, now. I should believe him as little capable of
+appreciating Venetia now, as he was when last at Cherbury, of
+anticipating the change in his own character.'
+
+'You mean opinions, my dear lady, for characters never change. Believe
+me, Cadurcis is radically the same as in old days. Circumstances have
+only developed his latent predisposition.'
+
+'Not changed, my dear lord! what, that innocent, sweet-tempered,
+docile child--'
+
+'Hush! here he comes.'
+
+The Earl and his guests entered the room; a circle was formed round
+Lady Annabel; some evening visitors arrived; there was singing. It had
+not been the intention of Lord Cadurcis to return to the drawing-room
+after his rebuff by Lady Annabel; he had meditated making his peace at
+Monteagle House; but when the moment of his projected departure had
+arrived, he could not resist the temptation of again seeing Venetia.
+He entered the room last, and some moments after his companions. Lady
+Annabel, who watched the general entrance, concluded he had gone, and
+her attention was now fully engaged. Lord Cadurcis remained at the
+end of the room alone, apparently abstracted, and looking far from
+amiable; but his eye, in reality, was watching Venetia. Suddenly her
+aunt approached her, and invited the lady who was conversing with Miss
+Herbert to sing; Lord Cadurcis immediately advanced, and took her
+seat. Venetia was surprised that for the first time in her life
+with Plantagenet she felt embarrassed. She had met his look when he
+approached her, and had welcomed, or, at least, intended to welcome
+him with a smile, but she was at a loss for words; she was haunted
+with the recollection of her mother's behaviour to him at dinner, and
+she looked down on the ground, far from being at ease.
+
+'Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+She started.
+
+'We are alone,' he said; 'let me call you Venetia when we are alone.'
+
+She did not, she could not reply; she felt confused; the blood rose to
+her cheek.
+
+'How changed is everything!' continued Cadurcis. 'To think the day
+should ever arrive when I should have to beg your permission to call
+you Venetia!'
+
+She looked up; she met his glance. It was mournful; nay, his eyes were
+suffused with tears. She saw at her side the gentle and melancholy
+Plantagenet of her childhood.
+
+'I cannot speak; I am agitated at meeting you,' she said with her
+native frankness. 'It is so long since we have been alone; and, as you
+say, all is so changed.'
+
+'But are you changed, Venetia?' he said in a voice of emotion; 'for
+all other change is nothing.'
+
+'I meet you with pleasure,' she replied; 'I hear of your fame with
+pride. You cannot suppose that it is possible I should cease to be
+interested in your welfare.'
+
+'Your mother does not meet me with pleasure; she hears of nothing
+that has occurred to me with pride; your mother has ceased to take an
+interest in my welfare; and why should you be unchanged?'
+
+'You mistake my mother.'
+
+'No, no,' replied Cadurcis, shaking his head, 'I have read her inmost
+soul to-day. Your mother hates me; me, whom she once styled her son.
+She was a mother once to me, and you were my sister. If I have lost
+her heart, why have I not lost yours?'
+
+'My heart, if you care for it, is unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'O Venetia, whatever you may think, I never wanted the solace of a
+sister's love more than I do at this moment.'
+
+'I pledged my affection to you when we were children,' replied
+Venetia; 'you have done nothing to forfeit it, and it is yours still.'
+
+'When we were children,' said Cadurcis, musingly; 'when we were
+innocent; when we were happy. You, at least, are innocent still; are
+you happy, Venetia?'
+
+'Life has brought sorrows even to me, Plantagenet.'
+
+The blood deserted his heart when she called him Plantagenet; he
+breathed with difficulty.
+
+'When I last returned to Cherbury,' he said, 'you told me you were
+changed, Venetia; you revealed to me on another occasion the secret
+cause of your affliction. I was a boy then, a foolish ignorant boy.
+Instead of sympathising with your heartfelt anxiety, my silly vanity
+was offended by feelings I should have shared, and soothed, and
+honoured. Ah, Venetia! well had it been for one of us that I had
+conducted myself more kindly, more wisely.'
+
+'Nay, Plantagenet, believe me, I remember that interview only to
+regret it. The recollection of it has always occasioned me great
+grief. We were both to blame; but we were both children then. We must
+pardon each other's faults.'
+
+'You will hear, that is, if you care to listen, Venetia, much of my
+conduct and opinions,' continued Lord Cadurcis, 'that may induce you
+to believe me headstrong and capricious. Perhaps I am less of both in
+all things than the world imagines. But of this be certain, that my
+feelings towards you have never changed, whatever you may permit them
+to be; and if some of my boyish judgments have, as was but natural,
+undergone some transformation, be you, my sweet friend, in some degree
+consoled for the inconsistency, since I have at length learned duly to
+appreciate one of whom we then alike knew little, but whom a natural
+inspiration taught you, at least, justly to appreciate: I need not say
+I mean the illustrious father of your being.'
+
+Venetia could not restrain her tears; she endeavoured to conceal her
+agitated countenance behind the fan with which she was fortunately
+provided.
+
+'To me a forbidden subject,' said Venetia, 'at least with them I could
+alone converse upon it, but one that my mind never deserts.'
+
+'O Venetia!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'would we were both
+with him!'
+
+'A wild thought,' she murmured, 'and one I must not dwell upon.'
+
+'We shall meet, I hope,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'we must meet, meet
+often. I called upon your mother to-day, fruitlessly. You must attempt
+to conciliate her. Why should we be parted? We, at least, are friends,
+and more than friends. I cannot exist unless we meet, and meet with
+the frankness of old days.'
+
+'I think you mistake mamma; I think you may, indeed. Remember how
+lately she has met you, and after how long an interval! A little time,
+and she will resume her former feelings, and believe that you have
+never forfeited yours. Besides, we have friends, mutual friends. My
+aunt admires you, and here I naturally must be a great deal. And the
+Bishop, he still loves you; that I am sure he does: and your cousin,
+mamma likes your cousin. I am sure if you can manage only to be
+patient, if you will only attempt to conciliate a little, all will be
+as before. Remember, too, how changed your position is,' Venetia added
+with a smile; 'you allow me to forget you are a great man, but mamma
+is naturally restrained by all this wonderful revolution. When she
+finds that you really are the Lord Cadurcis whom she knew such a very
+little boy, the Lord Cadurcis who, without her aid, would never have
+been able even to write his fine poems, oh! she must love you again.
+How can she help it?'
+
+Cadurcis smiled. 'We shall see,' he said. 'In the meantime do not you
+desert me, Venetia.'
+
+'That is impossible,' she replied; 'the happiest of my days have been
+passed with you. You remember the inscription on the jewel? I shall
+keep to my vows.'
+
+'That was a very good inscription so far as it went,' said Cadurcis;
+and then, as if a little alarmed at his temerity, he changed the
+subject.
+
+'Do you know,' said Venetia, after a pause, 'I am treating you all
+this time as a poet, merely in deference to public opinion. Not a line
+have I been permitted to read; but I am resolved to rebel, and you
+must arrange it all.'
+
+'Ah!' said the enraptured Cadurcis; 'this is fame!'
+
+At this moment the Countess approached them, and told Venetia that
+her mother wished to speak to her. Lady Annabel had discovered the
+tête-à-tête, and resolved instantly to terminate it. Lord Cadurcis,
+however, who was quick as lightning, read all that was necessary in
+Venetia's look. Instead of instantly retiring, he remained some little
+time longer, talked to the Countess, who was perfectly enchanted with
+him, even sauntered up to the singers, and complimented them, and did
+not make his bow until he had convinced at least the mistress of the
+mansion, if not her sister-in-law, that it was not Venetia Herbert who
+was his principal attraction in this agreeable society.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The moment he had quitted Venetia, Lord Cadurcis returned home. He
+could not endure the usual routine of gaiety after her society; and
+his coachman, often waiting until five o'clock in the morning at
+Monteagle House, could scarcely assure himself of his good fortune
+in this exception to his accustomed trial of patience. The vis-à-vis
+stopped, and Lord Cadurcis bounded out with a light step and a lighter
+heart. His table was covered with letters. The first one that caught
+his eye was a missive from Lady Monteagle. Cadurcis seized it like a
+wild animal darting on its prey, tore it in half without opening it,
+and, grasping the poker, crammed it with great energy into the fire.
+This exploit being achieved, Cadurcis began walking up and down the
+room; and indeed he paced it for nearly a couple of hours in a deep
+reverie, and evidently under a considerable degree of excitement, for
+his gestures were violent, and his voice often audible. At length,
+about an hour after midnight, he rang for his valet, tore off his
+cravat, and hurled it to one corner of the apartment, called for his
+robe de chambre, soda water, and more lights, seated himself, and
+began pouring forth, faster almost than his pen could trace the words,
+the poem that he had been meditating ever since he had quitted the
+roof where he had met Venetia. She had expressed a wish to read his
+poems; he had resolved instantly to compose one for her solitary
+perusal Thus he relieved his heart:
+
+  I.
+
+  Within a cloistered pile, whose Gothic towers
+  Rose by the margin of a sedgy lake,
+  Embosomed in a valley of green bowers,
+  And girt by many a grove and ferny brake
+  Loved by the antlered deer, a tender youth
+  Whom Time to childhood's gentle sway of love
+  Still spared; yet innocent as is the dove,
+  Nor mounded yet by Care's relentless tooth;
+  Stood musing, of that fair antique domain
+  The orphan lord! And yet, no childish thought
+  With wayward purpose holds its transient reign
+  In his young mind, with deeper feelings fraught;
+  Then mystery all to him, and yet a dream,
+  That Time has touched with its revealing beam.
+
+  II.
+
+  There came a maiden to that lonely boy,
+  And like to him as is the morn to night;
+  Her sunny face a very type of joy,
+  And with her soul's unclouded lustre bright.
+  Still scantier summers had her brow illumed
+  Than that on which she threw a witching smile,
+  Unconscious of the spell that could beguile
+  His being of the burthen it was doomed
+  By his ancestral blood to bear: a spirit,
+  Rife with desponding thoughts and fancies drear,
+  A moody soul that men sometimes inherit,
+  And worse than all the woes the world may bear.
+  But when he met that maiden's dazzling eye,
+  He bade each gloomy image baffled fly.
+
+  III.
+
+  Amid the shady woods and sunny lawns
+  The maiden and the youth now wander, gay
+  As the bright birds, and happy as the fawns,
+  Their sportive rivals, that around them play;
+  Their light hands linked in love, the golden hours
+  Unconscious fly, while thus they graceful roam,
+  And careless ever till the voice of home
+  Recalled them from their sunshine find their flowers;
+  For then they parted: to his lonely pile
+  The orphan-chief, for though his woe to lull,
+  The maiden called him brother, her fond smile
+  Gladdened another hearth, while his was dull
+  Yet as they parted, she reproved his sadness,
+  And for his sake she gaily whispered gladness.
+
+  IV.
+
+  She was the daughter of a noble race,
+  That beauteous girl, and yet she owed her name
+  To one who needs no herald's skill to trace
+  His blazoned lineage, for his lofty fame
+  Lives in the mouth of men, and distant climes
+  Re-echo his wide glory; where the brave
+  Are honoured, where 'tis noble deemed to save
+  A prostrate nation, and for future times
+  Work with a high devotion, that no taunt,
+  Or ribald lie, or zealot's eager curse,
+  Or the short-sighted world's neglect can daunt,
+  That name is worshipped! His immortal verse
+  Blends with his god-like deeds, a double spell
+  To bind the coming age he loved too well!
+
+  V.
+
+  For, from his ancient home, a scatterling,
+  They drove him forth, unconscious of their prize,
+  And branded as a vile unhallowed thing,
+  The man who struggled only to be wise.
+  And even his hearth rebelled, the duteous wife,
+  Whose bosom well might soothe in that dark hour,
+  Swelled with her gentle force the world's harsh power,
+  And aimed her dart at his devoted life.
+  That struck; the rest his mighty soul might scorn,
+  But when his household gods averted stood,
+  'Twas the last pang that cannot well be borne
+  When tortured e'en to torpor: his heart's blood
+  Flowed to the unseen blow: then forth he went,
+  And gloried in his ruthless banishment.
+
+  VI.
+
+  A new-born pledge of love within his home,
+  His alien home, the exiled father left;
+  And when, like Cain, he wandered forth to roam,
+  A Cain without his solace, all bereft,
+  Stole down his pallid cheek the scalding tear,
+  To think a stranger to his tender love
+  His child must grow, untroubled where might rove
+  His restless life, or taught perchance to fear
+  Her father's name, and bred in sullen hate,
+  Shrink from his image. Thus the gentle maid,
+  Who with her smiles had soothed an orphan's fate,
+  Had felt an orphan's pang; yet undismayed,
+  Though taught to deem her sire the child of shame,
+  She clung with instinct to that reverent name!
+
+  VII.
+
+  Time flew; the boy became a man; no more
+  His shadow falls upon his cloistered hall,
+  But to a stirring world he learn'd to pour
+  The passion of his being, skilled to call
+  From the deep caverns of his musing thought
+  Shadows to which they bowed, and on their mind
+  To stamp the image of his own; the wind,
+  Though all unseen, with force or odour fraught,
+  Can sway mankind, and thus a poet's voice,
+  Now touched with sweetness, now inflamed with rage,
+  Though breath, can make us grieve and then rejoice:
+  Such is the spell of his creative page,
+  That blends with all our moods; and thoughts can yield
+  That all have felt, and yet till then were sealed.
+
+  VIII.
+
+  The lute is sounding in a chamber bright
+  With a high festival; on every side,
+  Soft in the gleamy blaze of mellowed light,
+  Fair women smile, and dancers graceful glide;
+  And words still sweeter than a serenade
+  Are breathed with guarded voice and speaking eyes,
+  By joyous hearts in spite of all their sighs;
+  But byegone fantasies that ne'er can fade
+  Retain the pensive spirit of the youth;
+  Reclined against a column he surveys
+  His laughing compeers with a glance, in sooth,
+  Careless of all their mirth: for other days
+  Enchain him with their vision, the bright hours
+  Passed with the maiden in their sunny bowers.
+
+  IX.
+
+  Why turns his brow so pale, why starts to life
+  That languid eye? What form before unseen,
+  With all the spells of hallowed memory rife,
+  Now rises on his vision? As the Queen
+  Of Beauty from her bed of sparkling foam
+  Sprang to the azure light, and felt the air,
+  Soft as her cheek, the wavy dancers bear
+  To his rapt sight a mien that calls his home,
+  His cloistered home, before him, with his dreams
+  Prophetic strangely blending. The bright muse
+  Of his dark childhood still divinely beams
+  Upon his being; glowing with the hues
+  That painters love, when raptured pencils soar
+  To trace a form that nations may adore!
+
+  X.
+
+  One word alone, within her thrilling ear,
+  Breathed with hushed voice the brother of her heart,
+  And that for aye is hidden. With a tear
+  Smiling she strove to conquer, see her start,
+  The bright blood rising to her quivering cheek,
+  And meet the glance she hastened once to greet,
+  When not a thought had he, save in her sweet
+  And solacing society; to seek
+  Her smiles his only life! Ah! happy prime
+  Of cloudless purity, no stormy fame
+  His unknown sprite then stirred, a golden time
+  Worth all the restless splendour of a name;
+  And one soft accent from those gentle lips
+  Might all the plaudits of a world eclipse.
+
+  XI.
+
+  My tale is done; and if some deem it strange
+  My fancy thus should droop, deign then to learn
+  My tale is truth: imagination's range
+  Its bounds exact may touch not: to discern
+  Far stranger things than poets ever feign,
+  In life's perplexing annals, is the fate
+  Of those who act, and musing, penetrate
+  The mystery of Fortune: to whose reign
+  The haughtiest brow must bend; 'twas passing strange
+  The youth of these fond children; strange the flush
+  Of his high fortunes and his spirit's change;
+  Strange was the maiden's tear, the maiden's blush;
+  Strange were his musing thoughts and trembling heart,
+  'Tis strange they met, and stranger if they part!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered, which she did a very few hours after
+the mortifying event, where Lord Cadurcis had dined the day on which
+he had promised to be her guest, she was very indignant, but her
+vanity was more offended than her self-complacency. She was annoyed
+that Cadurcis should have compromised his exalted reputation by so
+publicly dangling in the train of the new beauty: still more that he
+should have signified in so marked a manner the impression which the
+fair stranger had made upon him, by instantly accepting an invitation
+to a house so totally unconnected with his circle, and where, had it
+not been to meet this Miss Herbert, it would of course never have
+entered his head to be a visitor. But, on the whole, Lady Monteagle
+was rather irritated than jealous; and far from suspecting that there
+was the slightest chance of her losing her influence, such as it might
+be, over Lord Cadurcis, all that she felt was, that less lustre must
+redound to her from its possession and exercise, if it were obvious
+to the world that his attentions could be so easily attracted and
+commanded.
+
+When Lord Cadurcis, therefore, having dispatched his poem to Venetia,
+paid his usual visit on the next day to Monteagle House, he was
+received rather with sneers than reproaches, as Lady Monteagle, with
+no superficial knowledge of society or his lordship's character,
+was clearly of opinion that this new fancy of her admirer was to be
+treated rather with ridicule than indignation; and, in short, as she
+had discovered that Cadurcis was far from being insensible to mockery,
+that it was clearly a fit occasion, to use a phrase then very much in
+vogue, for _quizzing_.
+
+'How d'ye do?' said her ladyship, with an arch smile, 'I really could
+not expect to see you!'
+
+Cadurcis looked a little confused; he detested scenes, and now he
+dreaded one.
+
+'You seem quite distrait,' continued Lady Monteagle, after a moment's
+pause, which his lordship ought to have broken. 'But no wonder, if the
+world be right.'
+
+'The world cannot be wrong,' said Cadurcis sarcastically.
+
+'Had you a pleasant party yesterday?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'Lady ---- must have been quite charmed to have you at last,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'I suppose she exhibited you to all her friends, as if you
+were one of the savages that went to Court the other day.'
+
+'She was courteous.'
+
+'Oh! I can fancy her flutter! For my part, if there be one character
+in the world more odious than another, I think it is a fussy woman.
+Lady ----, with Lord Cadurcis dining with her, and the new beauty for a
+niece, must have been in a most delectable state of bustle.'
+
+'I thought she was rather quiet,' said her companion with provoking
+indifference. 'She seemed to me an agreeable person.'
+
+'I suppose you mean Miss Herbert?' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Oh! these are moderate expressions to use in reference to a person
+like Miss Herbert.'
+
+'You know what they said of you two at Ranelagh?' said her ladyship.
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis, somewhat changing colour, and speaking
+through his teeth; 'something devilish pleasant, I dare say.'
+
+'They call you Sedition and Treason,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Then we are well suited,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'She certainly is a beautiful creature,' said her ladyship.
+
+'I think so,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Rather too tall, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Beautiful complexion certainly; wants delicacy, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Fine eyes! Grey, I believe. Cannot say I admire grey eyes. Certain
+sign of bad temper, I believe, grey eyes?'
+
+'Are they?'
+
+'I did not observe her hand. I dare say a little coarse. Fair people
+who are tall generally fail in the hand and arm. What sort of a hand
+and arm has she?'
+
+'I did not observe anything coarse about Miss Herbert.'
+
+'Ah! you admire her. And you have cause. No one can deny she is a fine
+girl, and every one must regret, that with her decidedly provincial
+air and want of style altogether, which might naturally be expected,
+considering the rustic way I understand she has been brought up (an
+old house in the country, with a methodistical mother), that she
+should have fallen into such hands as her aunt. Lady ---- is enough to
+spoil any girl's fortune in London.'
+
+'I thought that the ---- were people of high consideration,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Consideration!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'If you mean that they are
+people of rank, and good blood, and good property, they are certainly
+people of consideration; but they are Goths, Vandals, Huns, Calmucks,
+Canadian savages! They have no fashion, no style, no ton, no influence
+in the world. It is impossible that a greater misfortune could have
+befallen your beauty than having such an aunt. Why, no man who has the
+slightest regard for his reputation would be seen in her company. She
+is a regular quiz, and you cannot imagine how everybody was laughing
+at you the other night.'
+
+'I am very much obliged to them,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And, upon my honour,' continued Lady Monteagle, 'speaking merely as
+your friend, and not being the least jealous (Cadurcis do not suppose
+that), not a twinge has crossed my mind on that score; but still I
+must tell you that it was most ridiculous for a man like you, to
+whom everybody looks up, and from whom the slightest attention is
+an honour, to go and fasten yourself the whole night upon a rustic
+simpleton, something between a wax doll and a dairymaid, whom every
+fool in London was staring at; the very reason why you should not have
+appeared to have been even aware of her existence.'
+
+'We have all our moments of weakness, Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+charmed that the lady was so thoroughly unaware and unsuspicious of
+his long and intimate connection with the Herberts. 'I suppose it was
+my cursed vanity. I saw, as you say, every fool staring at her, and
+so I determined to show that in an instant I could engross her
+attention.'
+
+'Of course, I know it was only that; but you should not have gone
+and dined there, Cadurcis,' added the lady, very seriously, 'That
+compromised you; but, by cutting them in future in the most marked
+manner, you may get over it.'
+
+'You really think I may?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, with some anxiety.
+
+'Oh! I have no doubt of it,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'What it is to have a friend like you, Gertrude,' said Cadurcis, 'a
+friend who is neither a Goth, nor a Vandal, nor a Hun, nor a Calmuck,
+nor a Canadian savage; but a woman of fashion, style, ton, influence
+in the world! It is impossible that a greater piece of good fortune
+could have befallen me than having you for a friend.'
+
+'Ah, méchant! you may mock,' said the lady, triumphantly, for she was
+quite satisfied with the turn the conversation had taken; 'but I am
+glad for your sake that you take such a sensible view of the case.'
+
+Notwithstanding, however, this sensible view of the case, after
+lounging an hour at Monteagle House, Lord Cadurcis' carriage stopped
+at the door of Venetia's Gothic aunt. He was not so fortunate as
+to meet his heroine; but, nevertheless, he did not esteem his time
+entirely thrown away, and consoled himself for the disappointment
+by confirming the favourable impression he had already made in this
+establishment, and cultivating an intimacy which he was assured must
+contribute many opportunities of finding himself in the society
+of Venetia. From this day, indeed, he was a frequent guest at her
+uncle's, and generally contrived also to meet her several times in
+the week at some great assembly; but here, both from the occasional
+presence of Lady Monteagle, although party spirit deterred her from
+attending many circles where Cadurcis was now an habitual visitant,
+and from the crowd of admirers who surrounded the Herberts, he rarely
+found an opportunity for any private conversation with Venetia.
+His friend the Bishop also, notwithstanding the prejudices of Lady
+Annabel, received him always with cordiality, and he met the Herberts
+more than once at his mansion. At the opera and in the park also he
+hovered about them, in spite of the sarcasms or reproaches of Lady
+Monteagle; for the reader is not to suppose that that lady continued
+to take the same self-complacent view of Lord Cadurcis' acquaintance
+with the Herberts which she originally adopted, and at first flattered
+herself was the just one. His admiration of Miss Herbert had become
+the topic of general conversation; it could no longer be concealed or
+disguised. But Lady Monteagle was convinced that Cadurcis was not a
+marrying man, and persuaded herself that this was a fancy which must
+evaporate. Moreover, Monteagle House still continued his spot of most
+constant resort; for his opportunities of being with Venetia were,
+with all his exertions, limited, and he had no other resource which
+pleased him so much as the conversation and circle of the bright
+goddess of his party. After some fiery scenes therefore with the
+divinity, which only led to his prolonged absence, for the profound
+and fervent genius of Cadurcis revolted from the base sentiment and
+mock emotions of society, the lady reconciled herself to her lot,
+still believing herself the most envied woman in London, and often
+ashamed of being jealous of a country girl.
+
+The general result of the fortnight which elapsed since Cadurcis
+renewed his acquaintance with his Cherbury friends was, that he had
+become convinced of his inability of propitiating Lady Annabel, was
+devotedly attached to Venetia, though he had seldom an opportunity
+of intimating feelings, which the cordial manner in which she ever
+conducted herself to him gave him no reason to conclude desperate; at
+the same time that he had contrived that a day should seldom elapse,
+which did not under some circumstances, however unfavourable, bring
+them together, while her intimate friends and the circles in which she
+passed most of her life always witnessed his presence with favour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+We must, however, endeavour to be more intimately acquainted with
+the heart and mind of Venetia in her present situation, so strongly
+contrasting with the serene simplicity of her former life, than the
+limited and constrained opportunities of conversing with the companion
+of his childhood enjoyed by Lord Cadurcis could possibly enable him to
+become. Let us recur to her on the night when she returned home, after
+having met with Plantagenet at her uncle's, and having pursued a
+conversation with him, so unexpected, so strange, and so affecting!
+She had been silent in the carriage, and retired to her room
+immediately. She retired to ponder. The voice of Cadurcis lingered in
+her ear; his tearful eye still caught her vision. She leant her head
+upon her hand, and sighed! Why did she sigh? What at this instant was
+her uppermost thought? Her mother's dislike of Cadurcis. 'Your mother
+hates me.' These had been his words; these were the words she repeated
+to herself, and on whose fearful sounds she dwelt. 'Your mother hates
+me.' If by some means she had learnt a month ago at Weymouth, that her
+mother hated Cadurcis, that his general conduct had been such as to
+excite Lady Annabel's odium, Venetia might have for a moment
+been shocked that her old companion in whom she had once been so
+interested, had by his irregular behaviour incurred the dislike of her
+mother, by whom he had once been so loved. But it would have been a
+transient emotion. She might have mused over past feelings and past
+hopes in a solitary ramble on the seashore; she might even have shed
+a tear over the misfortunes or infelicity of one who had once been
+to her a brother; but, perhaps, nay probably, on the morrow the
+remembrance of Plantagenet would scarcely have occurred to her.
+Long years had elapsed since their ancient fondness; a considerable
+interval since even his name had met her ear. She had heard nothing
+of him that could for a moment arrest her notice or command her
+attention.
+
+But now the irresistible impression that her mother disliked this very
+individual filled, her with intolerable grief. What occasioned this
+change in her feelings, this extraordinary difference in her emotions?
+There was, apparently, but one cause. She had met Cadurcis. Could then
+a glance, could even the tender intonations of that unrivalled voice,
+and the dark passion of that speaking eye, work in an instant such
+marvels? Could they revive the past so vividly, that Plantagenet in
+a moment resumed his ancient place in her affections? No, it was not
+that: it was less the tenderness of the past that made Venetia mourn
+her mother's sternness to Cadurcis, than the feelings of the future.
+For now she felt that her mother's heart was not more changed towards
+this personage than was her own.
+
+It seemed to Venetia that even before they met, from the very moment
+that his name had so strangely caught her eye in the volume on the
+first evening she had visited her relations, that her spirit suddenly
+turned to him. She had never heard that name mentioned since without
+a fluttering of the heart which she could not repress, and an emotion
+she could ill conceal. She loved to hear others talk of him, and yet
+scarcely dared speak of him herself. She recalled her emotion
+at unexpectedly seeing his portrait when with her aunt, and her
+mortification when her mother deprived her of the poem which she
+sighed to read. Day after day something seemed to have occurred to fix
+her brooding thoughts with fonder earnestness on his image. At length
+they met. Her emotion when she first recognised him at Ranelagh and
+felt him approaching her, was one of those tumults of the heart that
+form almost a crisis in our sensations. With what difficulty had
+she maintained herself! Doubtful whether he would even formally
+acknowledge her presence, her vision as if by fascination had
+nevertheless met his, and grew dizzy as he passed. In the interval
+that had elapsed between his first passing and then joining her, what
+a chaos was her mind! What a wild blending of all the scenes and
+incidents of her life! What random answers had she made to those with
+whom she had been before conversing with ease and animation! And then,
+when she unexpectedly found Cadurcis at her side, and listened to the
+sound of that familiar voice, familiar and yet changed, expressing
+so much tenderness in its tones, and in its words such deference and
+delicate respect, existence felt to her that moment affluent with a
+blissful excitement of which she had never dreamed!
+
+Her life was a reverie until they met again, in which she only mused
+over his fame, and the strange relations of their careers. She had
+watched the conduct of her mother to him at dinner with poignant
+sorrow; she scarcely believed that she should have an opportunity
+of expressing to him her sympathy. And then what had followed?
+A conversation, every word of which had touched her heart; a
+conversation that would have entirely controlled her feelings even if
+he had not already subjected them. The tone in which he so suddenly
+had pronounced 'Venetia,' was the sweetest music to which she had ever
+listened. His allusion to her father had drawn tears, which could not
+be restrained even in a crowded saloon. Now she wept plenteously.
+It was so generous, so noble, so kind, so affectionate! Dear, dear
+Cadurcis, is it wonderful that you should be loved?
+
+Then falling into a reverie of sweet and unbroken stillness, with her
+eyes fixed in abstraction on the fire, Venetia reviewed her life from
+the moment she had known Plantagenet. Not an incident that had ever
+occurred to them that did not rise obedient to her magical bidding.
+She loved to dwell upon the time when she was the consolation of his
+sorrows, and when Cherbury was to him a pleasant refuge! Oh! she felt
+sure her mother must remember those fond days, and love him as she
+once did! She pictured to herself the little Plantagenet of her
+childhood, so serious and so pensive when alone or with others, yet
+with her at times so gay and wild, and sarcastic; forebodings all of
+that deep and brilliant spirit, which had since stirred up the heart
+of a great nation, and dazzled the fancy of an admiring world. The
+change too in their mutual lots was also, to a degree, not free from
+that sympathy that had ever bound them together. A train of strange
+accidents had brought Venetia from her spell-bound seclusion, placed
+her suddenly in the most brilliant circle of civilisation, and classed
+her among not the least admired of its favoured members. And whom had
+she come to meet? Whom did she find in this new and splendid life the
+most courted and considered of its community, crowned as it were with
+garlands, and perfumed with the incense of a thousand altars? Her own
+Plantagenet. It was passing strange.
+
+The morrow brought the verses from Cadurcis. They greatly affected
+her. The picture of their childhood, and of the singular sympathy of
+their mutual situations, and the description of her father, called
+forth her tears; she murmured, however, at the allusion to her other
+parent. It was not just, it could not be true. These verses were not,
+of course, shown to Lady Annabel. Would they have been shown, even if
+they had not contained the allusion? The question is not perplexing.
+Venetia had her secret, and a far deeper one than the mere reception
+of a poem; all confidence between her and her mother had expired. Love
+had stept in, and, before his magic touch, the discipline of a life
+expired in an instant.
+
+From all this an idea may be formed of the mood in which, during the
+fortnight before alluded to, Venetia was in the habit of meeting Lord
+Cadurcis. During this period not the slightest conversation respecting
+him had occurred between her mother and herself. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned him, and her brow clouded when his name, as was often the
+case, was introduced. At the end of this fortnight, it happened that
+her aunt and mother were out together in the carriage, and had left
+her in the course of the morning at her uncle's house. During this
+interval, Lord Cadurcis called, and having ascertained, through a
+garrulous servant, that though his mistress was out, Miss Herbert was
+in the drawing-room, he immediately took the opportunity of being
+introduced. Venetia was not a little surprised at his appearance, and,
+conscious of her mother's feelings upon the subject, for a moment
+a little agitated, yet, it must be confessed, as much pleased. She
+seized this occasion of speaking to him about his verses, for hitherto
+she had only been able to acknowledge the receipt of them by a
+word. While she expressed without affectation the emotions they had
+occasioned her, she complained of his injustice to her mother: this
+was the cause of an interesting conversation of which her father
+was the subject, and for which she had long sighed. With what deep,
+unbroken attention she listened to her companion's enthusiastic
+delineation of his character and career! What multiplied questions did
+she not ask him, and how eagerly, how amply, how affectionately he
+satisfied her just and natural curiosity! Hours flew away while they
+indulged in this rare communion.
+
+'Oh, that I could see him!' sighed Venetia.
+
+'You will,' replied Plantagenet; 'your destiny requires it. You will
+see him as surely as you beheld that portrait that it was the labour
+of a life to prevent you beholding.'
+
+Venetia shook her head; 'And yet,' she added musingly, 'my mother
+loves him.'
+
+'Her life proves it,' said Cadurcis bitterly.
+
+'I think it does,' replied Venetia, sincerely.
+
+'I pretend not to understand her heart,' he answered; 'it is an enigma
+that I cannot solve. I ought not to believe that she is without one;
+but, at any rate, her pride is deeper than her love.'
+
+'They were ill suited,' said Venetia, mournfully; 'and yet it is one
+of my dreams that they may yet meet.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' he exclaimed, in a voice of great softness, 'they had
+not known each other from their childhood, like us. They met, and they
+parted, alike in haste.'
+
+Venetia made no reply; her eyes were fixed in abstraction on a
+handscreen, which she was unconscious that she held.
+
+'Tell me,' said Cadurcis, drawing his chair close to hers; 'tell me,
+Venetia, if--'
+
+At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced the return of
+the Countess and her sister-in-law. Cadurcis rose from his seat, but
+his chair, which still remained close to that on which Venetia was
+sitting, did not escape the quick glance of her mortified mother. The
+Countess welcomed Cadurcis with extreme cordiality; Lady Annabel only
+returned his very courteous bow.
+
+'Stop and dine with us, my dear lord,' said the Countess. 'We are only
+ourselves, and Lady Annabel and Venetia.'
+
+'I thank you, Clara,' said Lady Annabel, 'but we cannot stop to-day.'
+
+'Oh!' exclaimed her sister. 'It will be such a disappointment to
+Philip. Indeed you must stay,' she added, in a coaxing tone; 'we shall
+be such an agreeable little party, with Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'I cannot indeed, my dear Clara,' replied Lady Annabel; 'not to-day,
+indeed not to-day. Come Venetia!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Lady Annabel was particularly kind to Venetia on their return to their
+hotel, otherwise her daughter might have fancied that she had offended
+her, for she was silent. Venetia did not doubt that the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis was the reason that her mother would not remain and
+dine at her uncle's. This conviction grieved Venetia, but she did not
+repine; she indulged the fond hope that time would remove the strong
+prejudice which Lady Annabel now so singularly entertained against one
+in whose welfare she was originally so deeply interested. During their
+simple and short repast Venetia was occupied in a reverie, in
+which, it must be owned, Cadurcis greatly figured, and answered the
+occasional though kind remarks of her mother with an absent air.
+
+After dinner, Lady Annabel drew her chair towards the fire, for,
+although May, the weather was chill, and said, 'A quiet evening at
+home, Venetia, will be a relief after all this gaiety.' Venetia
+assented to her mother's observation, and nearly a quarter of an hour
+elapsed without another word being spoken. Venetia had taken up a
+book, and Lady Annabel was apparently lost in her reflections. At
+length she said, somewhat abruptly, 'It is more than three years, I
+think, since Lord Cadurcis left Cherbury?'
+
+'Yes; it is more than three years,' replied Venetia.
+
+'He quitted us suddenly.'
+
+'Very suddenly,' agreed Venetia.
+
+'I never asked you whether you knew the cause, Venetia,' continued her
+mother, 'but I always concluded that you did. I suppose I was not in
+error?'
+
+This was not a very agreeable inquiry. Venetia did not reply to
+it with her previous readiness and indifference. That indeed was
+impossible; but, with her accustomed frankness, after a moment's
+hesitation, she answered, 'Lord Cadurcis never specifically stated the
+cause to me, mamma; indeed I was myself surprised at his departure,
+but some conversation had occurred between us on the very morning he
+quitted Cadurcis, which, on reflection, I could not doubt occasioned
+that departure.'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis preferred his suit to you, Venetia, and you rejected
+him?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is as you believe,' replied Venetia, not a little agitated.
+
+'You did wisely, my child, and I was weak ever to have regretted your
+conduct.'
+
+'Why should you think so, dearest mamma?'
+
+'Whatever may have been the cause that impelled your conduct then,'
+said Lady Annabel, 'I shall ever esteem your decision as a signal
+interposition of Providence in your favour. Except his extreme youth,
+there was apparently no reason which should not have induced you to
+adopt a different decision. I tremble when I think what might have
+been the consequences.'
+
+'Tremble, dearest mother?'
+
+'Tremble, Venetia. My only thought in this life is the happiness of my
+child. It was in peril.
+
+'Nay, I trust not that, mamma: you are prejudiced against Plantagenet.
+It makes me very unhappy, and him also.'
+
+'He is again your suitor?' said Lady Annabel, with a scrutinising
+glance.
+
+'Indeed he is not.'
+
+'He will be,' said Lady Annabel. 'Prepare yourself. Tell me, then, are
+your feelings the same towards him as when he last quitted us?'
+
+'Feelings, mamma!' said Venetia, echoing her mother's words; for
+indeed the question was one very difficult to answer; 'I ever loved
+Plantagenet; I love him still.'
+
+'But do you love him now as then? Then you looked upon him as a
+brother. He has no soul now for sisterly affections. I beseech you
+tell me, my child, me, your mother, your friend, your best, your only
+friend, tell me, have you for a moment repented that you ever refused
+to extend to him any other affection?'
+
+'I have not thought of the subject, mamma; I have not wished to think
+of the subject; I have had no occasion to think of it. Lord Cadurcis
+is not my suitor now.'
+
+'Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, 'I cannot doubt you love me.'
+
+'Dearest mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in a tone of mingled fondness and
+reproach, and she rose from her seat and embraced Lady Annabel.
+
+'My happiness is an object to you, Venetia?' continued Lady Annabel.
+
+'Mother, mother,' said Venetia, in a deprecatory tone. 'Do not ask
+such cruel questions? Whom should I love but you, the best, the
+dearest mother that ever existed? And what object can I have in life
+that for a moment can be placed in competition with your happiness?'
+
+'Then, Venetia, I tell you,' said Lady Annabel, in a solemn yet
+excited voice, 'that that happiness is gone for ever, nay, my very
+life will be the forfeit, if I ever live to see you the bride of Lord
+Cadurcis.'
+
+'I have no thought of being the bride of any one,' said Venetia. 'I am
+happy with you. I wish never to leave you.'
+
+'My child, the fulfilment of such a wish is not in the nature of
+things,' replied Lady Annabel. 'The day will come when we must part;
+I am prepared for the event; nay, I look forward to it not only with
+resignation, but delight, when I think it may increase your happiness;
+but were that step to destroy it, oh! then, then I could live no more.
+I can endure my own sorrows, I can struggle with my own bitter lot,
+I have some sources of consolation which enable me to endure my own
+misery without repining; but yours, yours, Venetia, I could not bear.
+No! if once I were to behold you lingering in life as your mother,
+with blighted hopes and with a heart broken, if hearts can break, I
+should not survive the spectacle; I know myself, Venetia, I could not
+survive it.'
+
+'But why anticipate such misery? Why indulge in such gloomy
+forebodings? Am I not happy now? Do you not love me?'
+
+Venetia had drawn her chair close to that of her mother; she sat by
+her side and held her hand.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, after a pause of some minutes, and in a
+low voice, 'I must speak to you on a subject on which we have never
+conversed. I must speak to you;' and here Lady Annabel's voice dropped
+lower and lower, but still its tones were distinct, although
+she expressed herself with evident effort: 'I must speak to you
+about--your father.'
+
+Venetia uttered a faint cry, she clenched her mother's hand with a
+convulsive grasp, and sank upon her bosom. She struggled to maintain
+herself, but the first sound of that name from her mother's lips, and
+all the long-suppressed emotions that it conjured up, overpowered her.
+The blood seemed to desert her heart; still she did not faint; she
+clung to Lady Annabel, pallid and shivering.
+
+Her mother tenderly embraced her, she whispered to her words of great
+affection, she attempted to comfort and console her. Venetia murmured,
+'This is very foolish of me, mother; but speak, oh! speak of what I
+have so long desired to hear.'
+
+'Not now, Venetia.'
+
+'Now, mother! yes, now! I am quite composed. I could not bear the
+postponement of what you were about to say. I could not sleep, dear
+mother, if you did not speak to me. It was only for a moment I was
+overcome. See! I am quite composed.' And indeed she spoke in a calm
+and steady voice, but her pale and suffering countenance expressed the
+painful struggle which it cost her to command herself.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'it has been one of the objects of my
+life, that you should not share my sorrows.'
+
+Venetia pressed her mother's hand, but made no other reply.
+
+'I concealed from you for years,' continued Lady Annabel, 'a
+circumstance in which, indeed, you were deeply interested, but the
+knowledge of which could only bring you unhappiness. Yet it was
+destined that my solicitude should eventually be baffled. I know that
+it is not from my lips that you learn for the first time that you have
+a father, a father living.'
+
+'Mother, let me tell you all!' said Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'I know all,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'But, mother, there is something that you do not know; and now I would
+confess it.'
+
+'There is nothing that you can confess with which I am not acquainted,
+Venetia; and I feel assured, I have ever felt assured, that your only
+reason for concealment was a desire to save me pain.'
+
+'That, indeed, has ever been my only motive,' replied Venetia, 'for
+having a secret from my mother.'
+
+'In my absence from Cherbury you entered the chamber,' said Lady
+Annabel, calmly. 'In the delirium of your fever I became acquainted
+with a circumstance which so nearly proved fatal to you.'
+
+Venetia's cheek turned scarlet.
+
+'In that chamber you beheld the portrait of your father,' continued
+Lady Annabel. 'From our friend you learnt that father was still
+living. That is all?' said Lady Annabel, inquiringly.
+
+'No, not all, dear mother; not all. Lord Cadurcis reproached me at
+Cherbury with, with, with having such a father,' she added, in a
+hesitating voice. 'It was then I learnt his misfortunes, mother; his
+misery.'
+
+'I thought that misfortunes, that misery, were the lot of your other
+parent,' replied Lady Annabel, somewhat coldly.
+
+'Not with my love,' said Venetia, eagerly; 'not with my love, mother.
+You have forgotten your misery in my love. Say so, say so, dearest
+mother.' And Venetia threw herself on her knees before Lady Annabel,
+and looked up with earnestness in her face.
+
+The expression of that countenance had been for a moment stern, but
+it relaxed into fondness, as Lady Annabel gently bowed her head, and
+pressed her lips to her daughter's forehead. 'Ah, Venetia!' she said,
+'all depends upon you. I can endure, nay, I can forget the past, if my
+child be faithful to me. There are no misfortunes, there is no misery,
+if the being to whom I have consecrated the devotion of my life will
+only be dutiful, will only be guided by my advice, will only profit by
+my sad experience.'
+
+'Mother, I repeat I have no thought but for you,' said Venetia. 'My
+own dearest mother, if my duty, if my devotion can content you, you
+shall be happy. But wherein have I failed?'
+
+'In nothing, love. Your life has hitherto been one unbroken course of
+affectionate obedience.'
+
+'And ever shall be,' said Venetia. 'But you were speaking, mother, you
+were speaking of, of my, my father!'
+
+'Of him!' said Lady Annabel, thoughtfully. 'You have seen his
+picture?'
+
+Venetia kissed her mother's hand.
+
+'Was he less beautiful than Cadurcis? Was he less gifted?' exclaimed
+Lady Annabel, with animation. 'He could whisper in tones as sweet, and
+pour out his vows as fervently. Yet what am I? O my child!' continued
+Lady Annabel, 'beware of such beings! They bear within them a spirit
+on which all the devotion of our sex is lavished in vain. A year, no!
+not a year, not one short year! and all my hopes were blighted! O
+Venetia! if your future should be like my bitter past! and it might
+have been, and I might have contributed to the fulfilment! can you
+wonder that I should look upon Cadurcis with aversion?'
+
+'But, mother, dearest mother, we have known Plantagenet from his
+childhood. You ever loved him; you ever gave him credit for a heart,
+most tender and affectionate.'
+
+'He has no heart.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'He cannot have a heart. Spirits like him are heartless. It is another
+impulse that sways their existence. It is imagination; it is vanity;
+it is self, disguised with glittering qualities that dazzle our weak
+senses, but selfishness, the most entire, the most concentrated. We
+knew him as a child: ah! what can women know? We are born to love, and
+to be deceived. We saw him young, helpless, abandoned; he moved our
+pity. We knew not his nature; then he was ignorant of it himself. But
+the young tiger, though cradled at our hearths and fed on milk, will
+in good time retire to its jungle and prey on blood. You cannot change
+its nature; and the very hand that fostered it will be its first
+victim.'
+
+'How often have we parted!' said Venetia, in a deprecating tone; 'how
+long have we been separated! and yet we find him ever the same; he
+ever loves us. Yes! dear mother, he loves you now, the same as in old
+days. If you had seen him, as I have seen him, weep when he recalled
+your promise to be a parent to him, and then contrasted with such
+sweet hopes your present reserve, oh! you would believe he had a
+heart, you would, indeed!'
+
+'Weep!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, bitterly, 'ay! they can weep.
+Sensibility is a luxury which they love to indulge. Their very
+susceptibility is our bane. They can weep; they can play upon our
+feelings; and our emotion, so easily excited, is an homage to their
+own power, in which they glory.
+
+'Look at Cadurcis,' she suddenly resumed; 'bred with so much care;
+the soundest principles instilled into him with such sedulousness;
+imbibing them apparently with so much intelligence, ardour, and
+sincerity, with all that fervour, indeed, with which men of his
+temperament for the moment pursue every object; but a few years back,
+pious, dutiful, and moral, viewing perhaps with intolerance too
+youthful all that differed from the opinions and the conduct he had
+been educated to admire and follow. And what is he now? The most
+lawless of the wild; casting to the winds every salutary principle of
+restraint and social discipline, and glorying only in the abandoned
+energy of self. Three years ago, you yourself confessed to me, he
+reproached you with your father's conduct; now he emulates it. There
+is a career which such men must run, and from which no influence can
+divert them; it is in their blood. To-day Cadurcis may vow to you
+eternal devotion; but, if the world speak truth, Venetia, a month ago
+he was equally enamoured of another, and one, too, who cannot be his.
+But grant that his sentiments towards you are for the moment sincere;
+his imagination broods upon your idea, it transfigures it with a halo
+which exists only to his vision. Yield to him; become his bride; and
+you will have the mortification of finding that, before six mouths
+have elapsed, his restless spirit is already occupied with objects
+which may excite your mortification, your disgust, even your horror!'
+
+'Ah, mother! it is not with Plantagenet as with my father; Plantagenet
+could not forget Cherbury, he could not forget our childhood,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'On the contrary, while you lived together these recollections would
+be wearisome, common-place to him; when you had separated, indeed,
+mellowed by distance, and the comparative vagueness with which your
+absence would invest them, they would become the objects of his muse,
+and he would insult you by making the public the confidant of all your
+most delicate domestic feelings.'
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat, and walked up and down the room,
+speaking with an excitement very unusual with her. 'To have all
+the soft secrets of your life revealed to the coarse wonder of the
+gloating multitude; to find yourself the object of the world's
+curiosity, still worse, their pity, their sympathy; to have the sacred
+conduct of your hearth canvassed in every circle, and be the grand
+subject of the pros and cons of every paltry journal, ah, Venetia! you
+know not, you cannot understand, it is impossible you can comprehend,
+the bitterness of such a lot.'
+
+'My beloved mother!' said Venetia, with streaming eyes, 'you cannot
+have a feeling that I do not share.'
+
+'Venetia, you know not what I had to endure!' exclaimed Lady Annabel,
+in a tone of extreme bitterness. 'There is no degree of wretchedness
+that you can conceive equal to what has been the life of your mother.
+And what has sustained me; what, throughout all my tumultuous
+troubles, has been the star on which I have ever gazed? My child! And
+am I to lose her now, after all my sufferings, all my hopes that she
+at least might be spared my miserable doom? Am I to witness her also a
+victim?' Lady Annabel clasped her hands in passionate grief.
+
+'Mother! mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in agony, 'spare yourself, spare
+me!'
+
+'Venetia, you know how I have doted upon you; you know how I have
+watched and tended you from your infancy. Have I had a thought, a
+wish, a hope, a plan? has there been the slightest action of my life,
+of which you have not been the object? All mothers feel, but none ever
+felt like me; you were my solitary joy.'
+
+Venetia leant her face upon the table at which she was sitting and
+sobbed aloud.
+
+'My love was baffled,' Lady Annabel continued. 'I fled, for both our
+sakes, from the world in which my family were honoured; I sacrificed
+without a sigh, in the very prime of my youth, every pursuit which
+interests woman; but I had my child, I had my child!'
+
+'And you have her still!' exclaimed the miserable Venetia. 'Mother,
+you have her still!'
+
+'I have schooled my mind,' continued Lady Annabel, still pacing the
+room with agitated steps; 'I have disciplined my emotions; I have felt
+at my heart the constant the undying pang, and yet I have smiled, that
+you might be happy. But I can struggle against my fate no longer. No
+longer can I suffer my unparalleled, yes, my unjust doom. What have I
+done to merit these afflictions? Now, then, let me struggle no more;
+let me die!'
+
+Venetia tried to rise; her limbs refused their office; she tottered;
+she fell again into her seat with an hysteric cry.
+
+'Alas! alas!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, 'to a mother, a child is
+everything; but to a child, a parent is only a link in the chain of
+her existence. It was weakness, it was folly, it was madness to stake
+everything on a resource which must fail me. I feel it now, but I feel
+it too late.'
+
+Venetia held forth her arms; she could not speak; she was stifled with
+her emotion.
+
+'But was it wonderful that I was so weak?' continued her mother, as it
+were communing only with herself. 'What child was like mine? Oh! the
+joy, the bliss, the hours of rapture that I have passed, in gazing
+upon my treasure, and dreaming of all her beauty and her rare
+qualities! I was so happy! I was so proud! Ah, Venetia! you know not
+how I have loved you!'
+
+Venetia sprang from her seat; she rushed forward with convulsive
+energy; she clung to her mother, threw her arms round her neck, and
+buried her passionate woe in Lady Annabel's bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel stood for some minutes supporting her speechless and
+agitated child; then, as her sobs became fainter, and the tumult of
+her grief gradually died away, she bore her to the sofa, and seated
+herself by her side, holding Venetia's hand in her own, and ever and
+anon soothing her with soft embraces, and still softer words.
+
+At length, in a faint voice, Venetia said, 'Mother, what can I do to
+restore the past? How can we be to each other as we were, for this I
+cannot bear?'
+
+'Love me, my Venetia, as I love you; be faithful to your mother; do
+not disregard her counsel; profit by her errors.'
+
+'I will in all things obey you,' said Venetia, in a low voice; 'there
+is no sacrifice I am not prepared to make for your happiness.'
+
+'Let us not talk of sacrifices, my darling child; it is not a
+sacrifice that I require. I wish only to prevent your everlasting
+misery.'
+
+'What, then, shall I do?'
+
+'Make me only one promise; whatever pledge you give, I feel assured
+that no influence, Venetia, will ever induce you to forfeit it.'
+
+'Name it, mother.'
+
+'Promise me never to marry Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+whisper, but a whisper of which not a word was lost by the person to
+whom it was addressed.
+
+'I promise never to marry, but with your approbation,' said Venetia,
+in a solemn voice, and uttering the words with great distinctness.
+
+The countenance of Lady Annabel instantly brightened; she embraced her
+child with extreme fondness, and breathed the softest and the sweetest
+expressions of gratitude and love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered that of which her good-natured friends
+took care she should not long remain ignorant, that Venetia Herbert
+had been the companion of Lord Cadurcis' childhood, and that the most
+intimate relations had once subsisted between the two families,
+she became the prey of violent jealousy; and the bitterness of her
+feelings was not a little increased, when she felt that she had not
+only been abandoned, but duped; and that the new beauty, out of his
+fancy for whom she had flattered herself she had so triumphantly
+rallied him, was an old friend, whom he always admired. She seized the
+first occasion, after this discovery, of relieving her feelings, by
+a scene so violent, that Cadurcis had never again entered Monteagle
+House; and then repenting of this mortifying result, which she had
+herself precipitated, she overwhelmed him with letters, which, next
+to scenes, were the very things which Lord Cadurcis most heartily
+abhorred. These, now indignant, now passionate, now loading him with
+reproaches, now appealing to his love, and now to his pity, daily
+arrived at his residence, and were greeted at first only with short
+and sarcastic replies, and finally by silence. Then the lady solicited
+a final interview, and Lord Cadurcis having made an appointment to
+quiet her, went out of town the day before to Richmond, to a villa
+belonging to Venetia's uncle, and where, among other guests, he was of
+course to meet Lady Annabel and her daughter.
+
+The party was a most agreeable one, and assumed an additional interest
+with Cadurcis, who had resolved to seize this favourable opportunity
+to bring his aspirations to Venetia to a crisis. The day after the
+last conversation with her, which we have noticed, he had indeed
+boldly called upon the Herberts at their hotel for that purpose, but
+without success, as they were again absent from home. He had been
+since almost daily in the society of Venetia; but London, to a lover
+who is not smiled upon by the domestic circle of his mistress, is a
+very unfavourable spot for confidential conversations. A villa life,
+with its easy, unembarrassed habits, its gardens and lounging walks,
+to say nothing of the increased opportunities resulting from being
+together at all hours, and living under the same roof, was more
+promising; and here he flattered himself he might defy even the Argus
+eye and ceaseless vigilance of his intended mother-in-law, his enemy,
+whom he could not propitiate, and whom he now fairly hated.
+
+His cousin George, too, was a guest, and his cousin George was the
+confidant of his love. Upon this kind relation devolved the duty, far
+from a disagreeable one, of amusing the mother; and as Lady Annabel,
+though she relaxed not a jot of the grim courtesy which she ever
+extended to Lord Cadurcis, was no longer seriously uneasy as to his
+influence after the promise she had exacted from her daughter, it
+would seem that these circumstances combined to prevent Lord Cadurcis
+from being disappointed at least in the first object which he wished
+to obtain, an opportunity.
+
+And yet several days elapsed before this offered itself, passed by
+Cadurcis, however, very pleasantly in the presence of the being he
+loved, and very judiciously too, for no one could possibly be more
+amiable and ingratiating than our friend. Every one present, except
+Lady Annabel, appeared to entertain for him as much affection as
+admiration: those who had only met him in throngs were quite surprised
+how their superficial observation and the delusive reports of the
+world had misled them. As for his hostess, whom it had ever been his
+study to please, he had long won her heart; and, as she could not
+be blind to his projects and pretensions, she heartily wished him
+success, assisted him with all her efforts, and desired nothing more
+sincerely than that her niece should achieve such a conquest, and she
+obtain so distinguished a nephew.
+
+Notwithstanding her promise to her mother, Venetia felt justified in
+making no alteration in her conduct to one whom she still sincerely
+loved; and, under the immediate influence of his fascination, it was
+often, when she was alone, that she mourned with a sorrowing heart
+over the opinion which her mother entertained of him. Could it indeed
+be possible that Plantagenet, the same Plantagenet she had known so
+early and so long, to her invariably so tender and so devoted, could
+entail on her, by their union, such unspeakable and inevitable misery?
+Whatever might be the view adopted by her mother of her conduct,
+Venetia felt every hour more keenly that it was a sacrifice, and the
+greatest; and she still indulged in a vague yet delicious dream,
+that Lady Annabel might ultimately withdraw the harsh and perhaps
+heart-breaking interdict she had so rigidly decreed.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said his cousin to him one morning, 'we are all going
+to Hampton Court. Now is your time; Lady Annabel, the Vernons, and
+myself, will fill one carriage; I have arranged that. Look out, and
+something may be done. Speak to the Countess.'
+
+Accordingly Lord Cadurcis hastened to make a suggestion to a friend
+always flattered by his notice. 'My dear friend,' he said in his
+softest tone, 'let you and Venetia and myself manage to be together;
+it will be so delightful; we shall quite enjoy ourselves.'
+
+The Countess did not require this animating compliment to effect the
+object which Cadurcis did not express. She had gradually fallen
+into the unacknowledged conspiracy against her sister-in-law, whose
+prejudice against her friend she had long discovered, and had now
+ceased to combat. Two carriages, and one filled as George had
+arranged, accordingly drove gaily away; and Venetia, and her aunt, and
+Lord Cadurcis were to follow them on horseback. They rode with delight
+through the splendid avenues of Bushey, and Cadurcis was never in a
+lighter or happier mood.
+
+The month of May was in its decline, and the cloudless sky and the
+balmy air such as suited so agreeable a season. The London season was
+approaching its close; for the royal birthday was, at the period of
+our history, generally the signal of preparation for country quarters.
+The carriages arrived long before the riding party, for they had
+walked their steeds, and they found a messenger who requested them to
+join their friends in the apartments which they were visiting.
+
+'For my part,' said Cadurcis, 'I love the sun that rarely shines in
+this land. I feel no inclination to lose the golden hours in these
+gloomy rooms. What say you, ladies fair, to a stroll in the gardens?
+It will be doubly charming after our ride.'
+
+His companions cheerfully assented, and they walked away,
+congratulating themselves on their escape from the wearisome amusement
+of palace-hunting, straining their eyes to see pictures hung at a
+gigantic height, and solemnly wandering through formal apartments full
+of state beds and massy cabinets and modern armour.
+
+Taking their way along the terrace, they struck at length into a less
+formal path. At length the Countess seated herself on a bench. 'I must
+rest,' she said, 'but you, young people, may roam about; only do not
+lose me.'
+
+'Come, Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Venetia was hesitating; she did not like to leave her aunt alone, but
+the Countess encouraged her, 'If you will not go, you will only make
+me continue walking,' she said. And so Venetia proceeded, and for the
+first time since her visit was alone with Plantagenet.
+
+'I quite love your aunt,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is difficult indeed not to love her,' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I wish your mother was like your aunt,' he continued.
+It was an observation which was not heard without some emotion by his
+companion, though it was imperceptible. 'Venetia,' said Cadurcis,
+'when I recollect old days, how strange it seems that we now never
+should be alone, but by some mere accident, like this, for instance.'
+
+'It is no use thinking of old days,' said Venetia.
+
+'No use! said Cadurcis. 'I do not like to hear you say that, Venetia.
+Those are some of the least agreeable words that were ever uttered
+by that mouth. I cling to old days; they are my only joy and my only
+hope.'
+
+'They are gone,' said Venetia.
+
+'But may they not return?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, mournfully.
+
+They had walked on to a marble fountain of gigantic proportions and
+elaborate workmanship, an assemblage of divinities and genii, all
+spouting water in fantastic attitudes.
+
+'Old days,' said Plantagenet, 'are like the old fountain at Cadurcis,
+dearer to me than all this modern splendour.'
+
+'The old fountain at Cadurcis,' said Venetia, musingly, and gazing on
+the water with an abstracted air, 'I loved it well!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yet
+not untouched with melancholy, 'dear Venetia, let us return, and
+return together, to that old fountain and those old days!'
+
+Venetia shook her head. 'Ah, Plantagenet!' she exclaimed in a mournful
+voice, 'we must not speak of these things.'
+
+'Why not, Venetia?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Why should we
+be estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; never
+have I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthful
+affection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank.'
+
+'I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury,' said
+Cadurcis. 'Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging the
+same. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now an
+obscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charm
+of my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?'
+
+'Plantagenet,' she replied, in a solemn tone, 'yours I never can be.'
+
+'You do not, then, love me?' said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in a
+voice of great feeling.
+
+'It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'My own Venetia!' said Cadurcis; 'Venetia that I dote on! what does
+this mean? Why, then, will you not be mine?'
+
+'I cannot; there is an obstacle, an insuperable obstacle.'
+
+'Tell it me,' said Cadurcis eagerly; 'I will overcome it.'
+
+'I have promised never to marry without the approbation of my mother;
+her approbation you never can obtain.'
+
+Cadurcis' countenance fell; this was an obstacle which he felt that
+even he could not overcome.
+
+'I told you your mother hated me, Venetia.' And then, as she did not
+reply, he continued, 'You confess it, I see you confess it. Once you
+flattered me I was mistaken; but now, now you confess it.'
+
+'Hatred is a word which I cannot understand,' replied Venetia. 'My
+mother has reasons for disapproving my union with you; not founded on
+the circumstances of your life, and therefore removable (for I know
+what the world says, Plantagenet, of you), but I have confidence in
+your love, and that is nothing; but founded on your character, on your
+nature; they may be unjust, but they are insuperable, and I must yield
+to them.'
+
+'You have another parent, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of almost
+irresistible softness, 'the best and greatest of men! Once you told me
+that his sanction was necessary to your marriage. I will obtain it.
+O Venetia! be mine, and we will join him; join that ill-fated and
+illustrious being who loves you with a passion second only to mine;
+him who has addressed you in language which rests on every lip, and
+has thrilled many a heart that you even can never know. My adored
+Venetia! picture to yourself, for one moment, a life with him; resting
+on my bosom, consecrated by his paternal love! Let us quit this mean
+and miserable existence, which we now pursue, which never could have
+suited us; let us shun for ever this dull and degrading life, that is
+not life, if life be what I deem it; let us fly to those beautiful
+solitudes where he communes with an inspiring nature; let us, let us
+be happy!'
+
+He uttered these last words in a tone of melting tenderness; he leant
+forward his head, and his gaze caught hers, which was fixed upon the
+water. Her hand was pressed suddenly in his; his eye glittered, his
+lip seemed still speaking; he awaited his doom.
+
+The countenance of Venetia was quite pale, but it was disturbed. You
+might see, as it were, the shadowy progress of thought, and mark the
+tumultuous passage of conflicting passions. Her mind, for a moment,
+was indeed a chaos. There was a terrible conflict between love and
+duty. At length a tear, one solitary tear, burst from her burning
+eye-ball, and stole slowly down her cheek; it relieved her pain. She
+pressed Cadurcis hand, and speaking in a hollow voice, and with a look
+vague and painful, she said, 'I am a victim, but I am resolved. I
+never will desert her who devoted herself to me.'
+
+Cadurcis quitted her hand rather abruptly, and began walking up and
+down on the turf that surrounded the fountain.
+
+'Devoted herself to you!' he exclaimed with a fiendish laugh, and
+speaking, as was his custom, between his teeth. 'Commend me to such
+devotion. Not content with depriving you of a father, now forsooth
+she must bereave you of a lover too! And this is a mother, a devoted
+mother! The cold-blooded, sullen, selfish, inexorable tyrant!'
+
+'Plantagenet!' exclaimed Venetia with great animation.
+
+'Nay, I will speak. Victim, indeed! You have ever been her slave. She
+a devoted mother! Ay! as devoted as a mother as she was dutiful as a
+wife! She has no heart; she never had a feeling. And she cajoles you
+with her love, her devotion, the stern hypocrite!'
+
+'I must leave you,' said Venetia; 'I cannot bear this.'
+
+'Oh! the truth, the truth is precious,' said Cadurcis, taking her
+hand, and preventing her from moving. 'Your mother, your devoted
+mother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.
+Yet there is another. Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow's sun shall
+light me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blend
+my tears with your father's, and I will publish to Europe the double
+infamy of your mother. I swear it solemnly. Still I stand here,
+Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, her
+dutiful son. Nay! her slave like you. She shall not murmur. I will be
+dutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy,' he added in a
+softer tone. 'Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now,
+now.'
+
+'I have spoken,' said Venetia. 'My heart may break, but my purpose
+shall not falter.'
+
+'Then my curse upon your mother's head?' said Cadurcis, with terrible
+vehemency. 'May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!'
+
+'I will listen no more,' exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she moved
+away. She had proceeded some little distance when she paused and
+looked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did not
+observe her. She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; she
+did not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them as
+abruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given. Her heart
+was nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting in
+bitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.
+She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in that
+silent spot it reached him. He joined her immediately, but with a slow
+step. When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in a
+frigid tone, 'I believe you called me?'
+
+Venetia burst into tears. 'I cannot bear to part in anger,
+Plantagenet. I wished to say farewell in kindness. I shall always pray
+for your happiness. God bless you, Plantagenet!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about to
+speak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned his
+steps in a different direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Venetia stopped for a moment to collect herself before she joined
+her aunt, but it was impossible to conceal her agitation from the
+Countess. They had not, however, been long together before they
+observed their friends in the distance, who had now quitted the
+palace. Venetia made the utmost efforts to compose herself, and not
+unsuccessful ones. She was sufficiently calm on their arrival, to
+listen, if not to converse. The Countess, with all the tact of a
+woman, covered her niece's confusion by her animated description of
+their agreeable ride, and their still more pleasant promenade; and in
+a few minutes the whole party were walking back to their carriages.
+When they had arrived at the inn, they found Lord Cadurcis, to
+whose temporary absence the Countess had alluded with some casual
+observation which she flattered herself was very satisfactory.
+Cadurcis appeared rather sullen, and the Countess, with feminine
+quickness, suddenly discovered that both herself and her niece were
+extremely fatigued, and that they had better return in the carriages.
+There was one vacant place, and some of the gentlemen must ride
+outside. Lord Cadurcis, however, said that he should return as he
+came, and the grooms might lead back the ladies' horses; and so in a
+few minutes the carriages had driven off.
+
+Our solitary equestrian, however, was no sooner mounted than he put
+his horse to its speed, and never drew in his rein until he reached
+Hyde Park Corner. The rapid motion accorded with his tumultuous mood.
+He was soon at home, gave his horse to a servant, for he had left
+his groom behind, rushed into his library, tore up a letter of Lady
+Monteagle's with a demoniac glance, and rang his bell with such force
+that it broke. His valet, not unused to such ebullitions, immediately
+appeared.
+
+'Has anything happened, Spalding?' said his lordship.
+
+'Nothing particular, my lord. Her ladyship sent every day, and called
+herself twice, but I told her your lordship was in Yorkshire.'
+
+'That was right; I saw a letter from her. When did it come?'
+
+'It has been here several days, my lord.'
+
+'Mind, I am at home to nobody; I am not in town.'
+
+The valet bowed and disappeared. Cadurcis threw himself into an easy
+chair, stretched his legs, sighed, and then swore; then suddenly
+starting up, he seized a mass of letters that were lying on the table,
+and hurled them to the other end of the apartment, dashed several
+books to the ground, kicked down several chairs that were in his way,
+and began pacing the room with his usual troubled step; and so he
+continued until the shades of twilight entered his apartment. Then he
+pulled down the other bell-rope, and Mr. Spalding again appeared.
+
+'Order posthorses for to-morrow,' said his lordship.
+
+'Where to, my lord?'
+
+'I don't know; order the horses.'
+
+Mr. Spalding again bowed and disappeared.
+
+In a few minutes he heard a great stamping and confusion in his
+master's apartment, and presently the door opened and his master's
+voice was heard calling him repeatedly in a very irritable tone.
+
+'Why are there no bells in this cursed room?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'The ropes are broken, my lord.'
+
+'Why are they broken?'
+
+'I can't say, my lord,'
+
+'I cannot leave this house for a day but I find everything in
+confusion. Bring me some Burgundy.'
+
+'Yes, my lord. There is a young lad, my lord, called a few minutes
+back, and asked for your lordship. He says he has something very
+particular to say to your lordship. I told him your lordship was out
+of town. He said your lordship would wish very much to see him, and
+that he had come from the Abbey.'
+
+'The Abbey!' said Cadurcis, in a tone of curiosity. 'Why did you not
+show him in?'
+
+'Your lordship said you were not at home to anybody.'
+
+'Idiot! Is this anybody? Of course I would have seen him. What the
+devil do I keep you for, sir? You seem to me to have lost your head.'
+
+Mr. Spalding retired.
+
+'The Abbey! that is droll,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe some duties to the
+poor Abbey. I should not like to quit England, and leave anybody in
+trouble at the Abbey. I wish I had seen the lad. Some son of a tenant
+who has written to me, and I have never opened his letters. I am
+sorry.'
+
+In a few minutes Mr. Spalding again entered the room. 'The young lad
+has called again, my lord. He says he thinks your lordship has come to
+town, and he wishes to see your lordship very much.'
+
+'Bring lights and show him up. Show him up first.'
+
+Accordingly, a country lad was ushered into the room, although it was
+so dusky that Cadurcis could only observe his figure standing at the
+door.
+
+'Well, my good fellow,' said Cadurcis; 'what do you want? Are you in
+any trouble?'
+
+The boy hesitated.
+
+'Speak out, my good fellow; do not be alarmed. If I can serve you, or
+any one at the Abbey, I will do it.'
+
+Here Mr. Spalding entered with the lights. The lad held a cotton
+handkerchief to his face; he appeared to be weeping; all that was
+seen of his head were his locks of red hair. He seemed a country lad,
+dressed in a long green coat with silver buttons, and he twirled in
+his disengaged hand a peasant's white hat.
+
+'That will do, Spalding,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'Leave the room. Now,
+my good fellow, my time is precious; but speak out, and do not be
+afraid.'
+
+'Cadurcis!' said the lad in a sweet and trembling voice.
+
+'Gertrude, by G--d!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, starting. 'What infernal
+masquerade is this?'
+
+'Is it a greater disguise than I have to bear every hour of my life?'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, advancing. 'Have I not to bear a smiling
+face with a breaking heart?'
+
+'By Jove! a scene,' exclaimed Cadurcis in a piteous tone.
+
+'A scene!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, bursting into a flood of
+indignant tears. 'Is this the way the expression of my feelings is
+ever to be stigmatised? Barbarous man!'
+
+Cadurcis stood with his back to the fireplace, with his lips
+compressed, and his hands under his coat-tails. He was resolved that
+nothing should induce him to utter a word. He looked the picture of
+dogged indifference.
+
+'I know where you have been,' continued Lady Monteagle. 'You have been
+to Richmond; you have been with Miss Herbert. Yes! I know all. I am a
+victim, but I will not be a dupe. Yorkshire indeed! Paltry coward!'
+
+Cadurcis hummed an air.
+
+'And this is Lord Cadurcis!' continued the lady. 'The sublime,
+ethereal Lord Cadurcis, condescending to the last refuge of the
+meanest, most commonplace mind, a vulgar, wretched lie! What could
+have been expected from such a mind? You may delude the world, but I
+know you. Yes, sir! I know you. And I will let everybody know you. I
+will tear away the veil of charlatanism with which you have enveloped
+yourself. The world shall at length discover the nature of the idol
+they have worshipped. All your meanness, all your falsehood, all your
+selfishness, all your baseness, shall be revealed. I may be spurned,
+but at any rate I will be revenged!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis yawned.
+
+'Insulting, pitiful wretch!' continued the lady. 'And you think that
+I wish to hear you speak! You think the sound of that deceitful voice
+has any charm for me! You are mistaken, sir! I have listened to you
+too long. It was not to remonstrate with you that I resolved to see
+you. The tones of your voice can only excite my disgust. I am here to
+speak myself; to express to you the contempt, the detestation, the
+aversion, the scorn, the hatred, which I entertain for you!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis whistled.
+
+The lady paused; she had effected the professed purport of her visit;
+she ought now to have retired, and Cadurcis would most willingly have
+opened the door for her, and bowed her out of his apartment. But her
+conduct did not exactly accord with her speech. She intimated no
+intention of moving. Her courteous friend retained his position, and
+adhered to his policy of silence. There was a dead pause, and then
+Lady Monteagle, throwing herself into a chair, went into hysterics.
+
+Lord Cadurcis, following her example, also seated himself, took up a
+book, and began to read.
+
+The hysterics became fainter and fainter; they experienced all those
+gradations of convulsive noise with which Lord Cadurcis was so well
+acquainted; at length they subsided into sobs and sighs. Finally,
+there was again silence, now only disturbed by the sound of a page
+turned by Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Suddenly the lady sprang from her seat, and firmly grasping the arm of
+Cadurcis, threw herself on her knees at his side.
+
+'Cadurcis!' she exclaimed, in a tender tone, 'do you love me?'
+
+'My dear Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis, coolly, but rather regretting
+he had quitted his original and less assailable posture, 'you know I
+like quiet women.'
+
+'Cadurcis, forgive me!' murmured the lady. 'Pity me! Think only how
+miserable I am!'
+
+'Your misery is of your own making,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'What
+occasion is there for any of these extraordinary proceedings? I have
+told you a thousand times that I cannot endure scenes. Female society
+is a relaxation to me; you convert it into torture. I like to sail
+upon a summer sea; and you always will insist upon a white squall.'
+
+'But you have deserted me!'
+
+'I never desert any one,' replied Cadurcis calmly, raising her from
+her supplicating attitude, and leading her to a seat. 'The last time
+we met, you banished me your presence, and told me never to speak to
+you again. Well, I obeyed your orders, as I always do.'
+
+'But I did not mean what I said,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'How should I know that?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Your heart ought to have assured you,' said the lady.
+
+'The tongue is a less deceptive organ than the heart,' replied her
+companion.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said the lady, looking at her strange disguise, 'what do
+you advise me to do?'
+
+'To go home; and if you like I will order my vis-à-vis for you
+directly,' and he rose from his seat to give the order.
+
+'Ah!' you are sighing to get rid of me!' said the lady, in a
+reproachful, but still subdued tone.
+
+'Why, the fact is, Gertrude, I prefer calling upon you, to your
+calling upon me. When I am fitted for your society, I seek it; and,
+when you are good-tempered, always with pleasure; when I am not in the
+mood for it, I stay away. And when I am at home, I wish to see no one.
+I have business now, and not very agreeable business. I am disturbed
+by many causes, and you could not have taken a step which could have
+given me greater annoyance than the strange one you have adopted this
+evening.'
+
+'I am sorry for it now,' said the lady, weeping. 'When shall I see you
+again?'
+
+'I will call upon you to-morrow, and pray receive me with smiles.'
+
+'I ever will,' said the lady, weeping plenteously. 'It is all my
+fault; you are ever too good. There is not in the world a kinder and
+more gentle being than yourself. I shall never forgive myself for this
+exposure.
+
+'Would you like to take anything?' said Lord Cadurcis: 'I am sure you
+must feel exhausted. You see I am drinking wine; it is my only dinner
+to-day, but I dare say there is some salvolatile in the house; I dare
+say, when my maids go into hysterics, they have it!'
+
+'Ah, mocker!' said Lady Monteagle; 'but I can pardon everything, if
+you will only let me see you.'
+
+'Au revoir! then,' said his lordship; 'I am sure the carriage must be
+ready. I hear it. Come, Mr. Gertrude, settle your wig; it is quite
+awry. By Jove! we might as well go to the Pantheon, as you are ready
+dressed. I have a domino.' And so saying, Lord Cadurcis handed the
+lady to his carriage, and pressed her lightly by the hand, as he
+reiterated his promise of calling at Monteagle House the next day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Lord Cadurcis, unhappy at home, and wearied of the commonplace
+resources of society, had passed the night in every species of
+dissipation; his principal companion being that same young nobleman in
+whose company he had been when he first met Venetia at Ranelagh. The
+morn was breaking when Cadurcis and his friend arrived at his door.
+They had settled to welcome the dawn with a beaker of burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Now, my dear Scrope,' said Cadurcis, 'now for quiet and philosophy.
+The laughter of those infernal women, the rattle of those cursed dice,
+and the oaths of those ruffians are still ringing in my ears. Let us
+compose ourselves, and moralise.'
+
+Accustomed to their master's habits, who generally turned night into
+day, the household were all on the alert; a blazing fire greeted them,
+and his lordship ordered instantly a devil and the burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Sit you down here, my Scrope; that is the seat of honour, and you
+shall have it. What is this, a letter? and marked "Urgent," and in a
+man's hand. It must be read. Some good fellow nabbed by a bailiff,
+or planted by his mistress. Signals of distress! We must assist our
+friends.'
+
+The flame of the fire fell upon Lord Cadurcis' face as he read the
+letter; he was still standing, while his friend was stretched out in
+his easy chair, and inwardly congratulating himself on his comfortable
+prospects. The countenance of Cadurcis did not change, but he bit
+his lip, and read the letter twice, and turned it over, but with a
+careless air; and then he asked what o'clock it was. The servant
+informed him, and left the room.
+
+'Scrope,' said Lord Cadurcis, quietly, and still standing, 'are you
+very drunk?'
+
+'My dear fellow, I am as fresh as possible; you will see what justice
+I shall do to the Burgundy.'
+
+'"Burgundy to-morrow," as the Greek proverb saith,' observed Lord
+Cadurcis. 'Read that.'
+
+His companion had the pleasure of perusing a challenge from Lord
+Monteagle, couched in no gentle terms, and requesting an immediate
+meeting.
+
+'Well, I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life,' said Lord
+Scrope. 'Does he want satisfaction because you have planted her?'
+
+'D--n her!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'She has occasioned me a thousand
+annoyances, and now she has spoilt our supper. I don't know, though;
+he wants to fight quickly, let us fight at once. I will send him a
+cartel now, and then we can have our Burgundy. You will go out with
+me, of course? Hyde Park, six o'clock, and short swords.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis accordingly sat down, wrote his letter, and dispatched
+it by Mr. Spalding to Monteagle House, with peremptory instructions to
+bring back an answer. The companions then turned to their devil.
+
+'This is a bore, Cadurcis,' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'It is. I cannot say I am very valorous in a bad cause. I do not like
+to fight "upon compulsion," I confess. If I had time to screw my
+courage up, I dare say I should do it very well. I dare say, for
+instance, if ever I am publicly executed, I shall die game.'
+
+'God forbid!' said Lord Scrope. 'I say, Cadurcis, I would not drink
+any Burgundy if I were you. I shall take a glass of cold water.'
+
+'Ah! you are only a second, and so you want to cool your valour,' said
+Cadurcis. 'You have all the fun.'
+
+'But how came this blow-up?' inquired Lord Scrope. 'Letters
+discovered, eh? Because I thought you never saw her now?'
+
+'By Jove! my dear fellow, she has been the whole evening here
+masquerading it like a very vixen, as she is; and now she has
+committed us both. I have burnt her letters, without reading them,
+for the last month. Now I call that honourable; because, as I had no
+longer any claim on her heart, I would not think of trenching on her
+correspondence. But honour, what is honour in these dishonourable
+days? This is my reward. She contrived to enter my house this evening,
+dressed like a farmer's boy, and you may imagine what ensued; rage,
+hysterics, and repentance. I am sure if Monteagle had seen me, he
+would not have been jealous. I never opened my mouth, but, like a
+fool, sent her home in my carriage; and now I am going to be run
+through the body for my politeness.'
+
+In this light strain, blended, however, with more decorous feeling on
+the part of Lord Scrope, the young men conversed until the messenger's
+return with Lord Monteagle's answer. In Hyde Park, in the course of an
+hour, himself and Lord Cadurcis, attended by their friends, were to
+meet.
+
+'Well, there is nothing like having these affairs over,' said
+Cadurcis; 'and to confess the truth, my dear Scrope, I should not much
+care if Monteagle were to despatch me to my fathers; for, in the whole
+course of my miserable life, and miserable, whatever the world may
+think, it has been, I never felt much more wretched than I have during
+the last four-and-twenty hours. By Jove! do you know I was going to
+leave England this morning, and I have ordered my horses, too.'
+
+'Leave England!'
+
+'Yes, leave England; and where I never intended to return.'
+
+'Well, you are the oddest person I ever knew, Cadurcis. I should have
+thought you the happiest person that ever existed. Everybody admires,
+everybody envies you. You seem to have everything that man can desire.
+Your life is a perpetual triumph.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Scrope, there is a skeleton in every house. If you knew
+all, you would not envy me.'
+
+'Well, we have not much time,' said Lord Scrope; 'have you any
+arrangements to make?'
+
+'None. My property goes to George, who is my only relative, without
+the necessity of a will, otherwise I should leave everything to him,
+for he is a good fellow, and my blood is in his veins. Just you
+remember, Scrope, that I will be buried with my mother. That is all;
+and now let us get ready.'
+
+The sun had just risen when the young men went forth, and the day
+promised to be as brilliant as the preceding one. Not a soul was
+stirring in the courtly quarter in which Cadurcis resided; even the
+last watchman had stolen to repose. They called a hackney coach at the
+first stand they reached, and were soon at the destined spot. They
+were indeed before their time, and strolling by the side of the
+Serpentine, Cadurcis said, 'Yesterday morning was one of the happiest
+of my life, Scrope, and I was in hopes that an event would have
+occurred in the course of the day that might have been my salvation.
+If it had, by-the-bye, I should not have returned to town, and got
+into this cursed scrape. However, the gods were against me, and now I
+am reckless.'
+
+Now Lord Monteagle and his friend, who was Mr. Horace Pole, appeared.
+Cadurcis advanced, and bowed; Lord Monteagle returned his bow,
+stiffly, but did not speak. The seconds chose their ground, the
+champions disembarrassed themselves of their coats, and their swords
+crossed. It was a brief affair. After a few passes, Cadurcis received
+a slight wound in his arm, while his weapon pierced his antagonist in
+the breast. Lord Monteagle dropped his sword and fell.
+
+'You had better fly, Lord Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'This is a
+bad business, I fear; we have a surgeon at hand, and he can help us to
+the coach that is waiting close by.'
+
+'I thank you, sir, I never fly,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'and I shall wait
+here until I see your principal safely deposited in his carriage; he
+will have no objection to my friend, Lord Scrope, assisting him, who,
+by his presence to-day, has only fulfilled one of the painful duties
+that society imposes upon us.'
+
+The surgeon gave an unfavourable report of the wound, which he dressed
+on the field. Lord Monteagle was then borne to his carriage, which was
+at hand, and Lord Scrope, the moment he had seen the equipage move
+slowly off, returned to his friend.
+
+'Well Cadurcis,' he exclaimed in an anxious voice, 'I hope you have
+not killed him. What will you do now?'
+
+'I shall go home, and await the result, my dear Scrope. I am sorry for
+you, for this may get you into trouble. For myself, I care nothing.'
+
+'You bleed!' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'A scratch. I almost wish our lots had been the reverse. Come, Scrope,
+help me on with my coat. Yesterday I lost my heart, last night I lost
+my money, and perhaps to-morrow I shall lose my arm. It seems we are
+not in luck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+It has been well observed, that no spectacle is so ridiculous as the
+British public in one of its periodical fits of morality. In general,
+elopements, divorces, and family quarrels pass with little notice. We
+read the scandal, talk about it for a day, and forget it. But, once in
+six or seven years, our virtue becomes outrageous. We cannot suffer
+the laws of religion and decency to be violated. We must make a
+stand against vice. We must teach libertines that the English people
+appreciate the importance of domestic ties. Accordingly, some
+unfortunate man, in no respect more depraved than hundreds whose
+offences have been treated with lenity, is singled out as an expiatory
+sacrifice. If he has children, they are to be taken from him. If he
+has a profession, he is to be driven from it. He is cut by the higher
+orders, and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, a sort of whipping
+boy, by whose vicarious agonies all the other transgressors of the
+same class are, it is supposed, sufficiently chastised. We reflect
+very complacently on our own severity, and compare, with great pride,
+the high standard of morals established in England, with the Parisian
+laxity. At length, our anger is satiated, our victim is ruined and
+heart-broken, and our virtue goes quietly to sleep for seven years
+more.
+
+These observations of a celebrated writer apply to the instance of
+Lord Cadurcis; he was the periodical victim, the scapegoat of English
+morality, sent into the wilderness with all the crimes and curses of
+the multitude on his head. Lord Cadurcis had certainly committed a
+great crime: not his intrigue with Lady Monteagle, for that surely was
+not an unprecedented offence; not his duel with her husband, for after
+all it was a duel in self-defence; and, at all events, divorces
+and duels, under any circumstances, would scarcely have excited or
+authorised the storm which was now about to burst over the late
+spoiled child of society. But Lord Cadurcis had been guilty of the
+offence which, of all offences, is punished most severely: Lord
+Cadurcis had been overpraised. He had excited too warm an interest;
+and the public, with its usual justice, was resolved to chastise him
+for its own folly.
+
+There are no fits of caprice so hasty and so violent as those of
+society. Society, indeed, is all passion and no heart. Cadurcis, in
+allusion to his sudden and singular success, had been in the habit of
+saying to his intimates, that he 'woke one morning and found himself
+famous.' He might now observe, 'I woke one morning and found myself
+infamous.' Before twenty-four hours had passed over his duel with Lord
+Monteagle, he found himself branded by every journal in London, as an
+unprincipled and unparalleled reprobate. The public, without waiting
+to think or even to inquire after the truth, instantly selected as
+genuine the most false and the most flagrant of the fifty libellous
+narratives that were circulated of the transaction. Stories,
+inconsistent with themselves, were all alike eagerly believed, and
+what evidence there might be for any one of them, the virtuous people,
+by whom they were repeated, neither cared nor knew. The public, in
+short, fell into a passion with their darling, and, ashamed of their
+past idolatry, nothing would satisfy them but knocking the divinity on
+the head.
+
+Until Lord Monteagle, to the great regret of society, who really
+wished him to die in order that his antagonist might commit murder,
+was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis never quitted his house, and
+he was not a little surprised that scarcely a human being called upon
+him except his cousin, who immediately flew to his succour. George,
+indeed, would gladly have spared Cadurcis any knowledge of the storm
+that was raging against him, and which he flattered himself would blow
+over before Cadurcis was again abroad; but he was so much with
+his cousin, and Cadurcis was so extremely acute and naturally so
+suspicious, that this was impossible. Moreover, his absolute desertion
+by his friends, and the invectives and the lampoons with which the
+newspapers abounded, and of which he was the subject, rendered any
+concealment out of the question, and poor George passed his life in
+running about contradicting falsehoods, stating truth, fighting his
+cousin's battles, and then reporting to him, in the course of the day,
+the state of the campaign.
+
+Cadurcis, being a man of infinite sensibility, suffered tortures. He
+had been so habituated to panegyric, that the slightest criticism
+ruffled him, and now his works had suddenly become the subject of
+universal and outrageous attack; having lived only in a cloud of
+incense, he suddenly found himself in a pillory of moral indignation;
+his writings, his habits, his temper, his person, were all alike
+ridiculed and vilified. In a word, Cadurcis, the petted, idolised,
+spoiled Cadurcis, was enduring that charming vicissitude in a
+prosperous existence, styled a reaction; and a conqueror, who deemed
+himself invincible, suddenly vanquished, could scarcely be more
+thunderstruck, or feel more impotently desperate.
+
+The tortures of his mind, however, which this sudden change in his
+position and in the opinions of society, were of themselves competent
+to occasion to one of so impetuous and irritable a temperament, and
+who ever magnified both misery and delight with all the creative
+power of a brooding imagination, were excited in his case even to the
+liveliest agony, when he reminded himself of the situation in which he
+was now placed with Venetia. All hope of ever obtaining her hand had
+now certainly vanished, and he doubted whether even her love could
+survive the quick occurrence, after his ardent vows, of this degrading
+and mortifying catastrophe. He execrated Lady Monteagle with the most
+heartfelt rage, and when he remembered that all this time the world
+believed him the devoted admirer of this vixen, his brain was
+stimulated almost to the verge of insanity. His only hope of the
+truth reaching Venetia was through the medium of his cousin, and he
+impressed daily upon Captain Cadurcis the infinite consolation it
+would prove to him, if he could contrive to make her aware of the real
+facts of the case. According to the public voice, Lady Monteagle at
+his solicitation had fled to his house, and remained there, and her
+husband forced his entrance into the mansion in the middle of the
+night, while his wife escaped disguised in Lord Cadurcis' clothes.
+She did not, however, reach Monteagle House in time enough to
+escape detection by her lord, who had instantly sought and obtained
+satisfaction from his treacherous friend. All the monstrous inventions
+of the first week had now subsided into this circumstantial and
+undoubted narrative; at least this was the version believed by those
+who had been Cadurcis' friends. They circulated the authentic tale
+with the most considerate assiduity, and shook their heads, and said
+it was too bad, and that he must not be countenanced.
+
+The moment Lord Monteagle was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis
+made his appearance in public. He walked into Brookes', and everybody
+seemed suddenly so deeply interested in the newspapers, that you might
+have supposed they had brought intelligence of a great battle, or a
+revolution, or a change of ministry at the least. One or two men spoke
+to him, who had never presumed to address him at any other time, and
+he received a faint bow from a distinguished nobleman, who had ever
+professed for him the greatest consideration and esteem.
+
+Cadurcis mounted his horse and rode down to the House of Lords. There
+was a debate of some public interest, and a considerable crowd was
+collected round the Peers' entrance. The moment Lord Cadurcis was
+recognised, the multitude began hooting. He was agitated, and grinned
+a ghastly smile at the rabble. But he dismounted, without further
+annoyance, and took his seat. Not a single peer of his own party spoke
+to him. The leader of the Opposition, indeed, bowed to him, and, in
+the course of the evening, he received, from one or two more of his
+party, some formal evidences of frigid courtesy. The tone of his
+reception by his friends could not be concealed from the ministerial
+party. It was soon detected, and generally whispered, that Lord
+Cadurcis was cut. Nevertheless, he sat out the debate and voted. The
+house broke up. He felt lonely; his old friend, the Bishop of----, who
+had observed all that had occurred, and who might easily have avoided
+him, came forward, however, in the most marked manner, and, in a tone
+which everybody heard, said, 'How do you do, Lord Cadurcis? I am very
+glad to see you,' shaking his hand most cordially. This made a great
+impression. Several of the Tory Lords, among them Venetia's uncle, now
+advanced and sainted him. He received their advances with a haughty,
+but not disdainful, courtesy; but when his Whig friends, confused, now
+hurried to encumber him with their assistance, he treated them with
+the scorn which they well deserved.
+
+'Will you take a seat in my carriage home, Lord Cadurcis?' said his
+leader, for it was notorious that Cadurcis had been mobbed on his
+arrival.
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Cadurcis, speaking very audibly, 'I
+prefer returning as I came. We are really both of us such unpopular
+personages, that your kindness would scarcely be prudent.'
+
+The house had been full; there was a great scuffle and confusion as
+the peers were departing; the mob, now considerable, were prepared for
+the appearance of Lord Cadurcis, and their demeanour was menacing.
+Some shouted out his name; then it was repeated with odious and
+vindictive epithets, followed by ferocious yells. A great many
+peers collected round Cadurcis, and entreated him not to return on
+horseback. It must be confessed that genuine and considerable feeling
+was now shown by all men of all parties. And indeed to witness this
+young, and noble, and gifted creature, but a few days back the idol
+of the nation, and from whom a word, a glance even, was deemed the
+greatest and most gratifying distinction, whom all orders, classes,
+and conditions of men had combined to stimulate with multiplied
+adulation, with all the glory and ravishing delights of the world, as
+it were, forced upon him, to see him thus assailed with the savage
+execrations of all those vile things who exult in the fall of
+everything that is great, and the abasement of everything that is
+noble, was indeed a spectacle which might have silenced malice and
+satisfied envy!
+
+'My carriage is most heartily at your service, Lord Cadurcis,' said
+the noble leader of the government in the upper house; 'you can enter
+it without the slightest suspicion by these ruffians.' 'Lord Cadurcis;
+my dear lord; my good lord, for our sakes, if not for your own;
+Cadurcis, dear Cadurcis, my good Cadurcis, it is madness, folly,
+insanity; a mob will do anything, and an English mob is viler than
+all; for Heaven's sake!' Such were a few of the varied exclamations
+which resounded on all sides, but which produced on the person to whom
+they were addressed only the result of his desiring the attendant to
+call for his horses.
+
+The lobby was yet full; it was a fine thing in the light of the
+archway to see Cadurcis spring into his saddle. Instantly there was a
+horrible yell. Yet in spite of all their menaces, the mob were for a
+time awed by his courage; they made way for him; he might even have
+rode quickly on for some few yards, but he would not; he reined his
+fiery steed into a slow but stately pace, and, with a countenance
+scornful and composed, he continued his progress, apparently
+unconscious of impediment. Meanwhile, the hooting continued without
+abatement, increasing indeed, after the first comparative pause,
+in violence and menace. At length a bolder ruffian, excited by the
+uproar, rushed forward and seized Cadurcis' bridle. Cadurcis struck
+the man over the eyes with his whip, and at the same time touched his
+horse with his spur, and the assailant was dashed to the ground. This
+seemed a signal for a general assault. It commenced with hideous
+yells. His friends at the house, who had watched everything with the
+keenest interest, immediately directed all the constables who were at
+hand to rush to his succour; hitherto they had restrained the police,
+lest their interference might stimulate rather than repress the mob.
+The charge of the constables was well timed; they laid about them with
+their staves; you might have heard the echo of many a broken crown.
+Nevertheless, though they dispersed the mass, they could not penetrate
+the immediate barrier that surrounded Lord Cadurcis, whose only
+defence indeed, for they had cut off his groom, was the terrors of his
+horse's heels, and whose managed motions he regulated with admirable
+skill, now rearing, now prancing, now kicking behind, and now
+turning round with a quick yet sweeping motion, before which the mob
+retreated. Off his horse, however, they seemed resolved to drag him;
+and it was not difficult to conceive, if they succeeded, what must
+be his eventual fate. They were infuriate, but his contact with his
+assailants fortunately prevented their co-mates from hurling stones at
+him from the fear of endangering their own friends.
+
+A messenger to the Horse Guards had been sent from the House of Lords;
+but, before the military could arrive, and fortunately (for, with
+their utmost expedition, they must have been too late), a rumour of
+the attack got current in the House of Commons. Captain Cadurcis,
+Lord Scrope, and a few other young men instantly rushed out; and,
+ascertaining the truth, armed with good cudgels and such other
+effective weapons as they could instantly obtain, they mounted their
+horses and charged the nearly-triumphant populace, dealing such
+vigorous blows that their efforts soon made a visible diversion in
+Lord Cadurcis' favour. It is difficult, indeed, to convey an idea of
+the exertions and achievements of Captain Cadurcis; no Paladin of
+chivalry ever executed such marvels on a swarm of Paynim slaves; and
+many a bloody coxcomb and broken limb bore witness in Petty France
+that night to his achievements. Still the mob struggled and were not
+daunted by the delay in immolating their victim. As long as they had
+only to fight against men in plain clothes, they were valorous and
+obstinate enough; but the moment that the crests of a troop of Horse
+Guards were seen trotting down Parliament Street, everybody ran away,
+and in a few minutes all Palace-yard was as still as if the genius of
+the place rendered a riot impossible.
+
+Lord Cadurcis thanked his friends, who were profuse in their
+compliments to his pluck. His manner, usually playful with his
+intimates of his own standing, was, however, rather grave at present,
+though very cordial. He asked them home to dine with him; but they
+were obliged to decline his invitation, as a division was expected;
+so, saying 'Good-bye, George, perhaps I shall see you to-night,'
+Cadurcis rode rapidly off.
+
+With Cadurcis there was but one step from the most exquisite
+sensitiveness to the most violent defiance. The experience of this
+day had entirely cured him of his previous nervous deference to the
+feelings of society. Society had outraged him, and now he resolved to
+outrage society. He owed society nothing; his reception at the House
+of Lords and the riot in Palace-yard had alike cleared his accounts
+with all orders of men, from the highest to the lowest. He had
+experienced, indeed, some kindness that he could not forget, but only
+from his own kin, and those who with his associations were the same as
+kin. His memory dwelt with gratification on his cousin's courageous
+zeal, and still more on the demonstration which Masham had made in his
+favour, which, if possible, argued still greater boldness and sincere
+regard. That was a trial of true affection, and an instance of moral
+courage, which Cadurcis honoured, and which he never could forget. He
+was anxious about Venetia; he wished to stand as well with her as he
+deserved; no better; but he was grieved to think she could believe all
+those infamous tales at present current respecting himself. But, for
+the rest of the world, he delivered them all to the most absolute
+contempt, disgust, and execration; he resolved, from this time,
+nothing should ever induce him again to enter society, or admit the
+advances of a single civilised ruffian who affected to be social. The
+country, the people, their habits, laws, manners, customs, opinions,
+and everything connected with them, were viewed with the same
+jaundiced eye; and his only object now was to quit England, to which
+he resolved never to return.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Venetia was, perhaps, not quite so surprised as the rest of her
+friends, when, on their return to Richmond, Lord Cadurcis was not
+again seen. She was very unhappy: she recalled the scene in the
+garden at Cherbury some years back; and, with the knowledge of the
+impetuosity of his temper, she believed she should never see him
+again. Poor Plantagenet, who loved her so much, and whose love she so
+fully returned! why might they not be happy? She neither doubted the
+constancy of his affection, nor their permanent felicity if they
+were united. She shared none of her mother's apprehensions or her
+prejudices, but she was the victim of duty and her vow. In the course
+of four-and-twenty hours, strange rumours were afloat respecting Lord
+Cadurcis; and the newspapers on the ensuing morning told the truth,
+and more than the truth. Venetia could not doubt as to the duel or the
+elopement; but, instead of feeling indignation, she attributed what
+had occurred to the desperation of his mortified mind; and she visited
+on herself all the fatal consequences that had happened. At present,
+however, all her emotions were quickly absorbed in the one terrible
+fear that Lord Monteagle would die. In that dreadful and urgent
+apprehension every other sentiment merged. It was impossible to
+conceal her misery, and she entreated her mother to return to town.
+
+Very differently, however, was the catastrophe viewed by Lady Annabel.
+She, on the contrary, triumphed in her sagacity and her prudence. She
+hourly congratulated herself on being the saviour of her daughter;
+and though she refrained from indulging in any open exultation
+over Venetia's escape and her own profound discretion, it was,
+nevertheless, impossible for her to conceal from her daughter her
+infinite satisfaction and self-congratulation. While Venetia was half
+broken-hearted, her mother silently returned thanks to Providence for
+the merciful dispensation which had exempted her child from so much
+misery.
+
+The day after their return to town, Captain Cadurcis called upon them.
+Lady Annabel never mentioned the name of his cousin; but George,
+finding no opportunity of conversing with Venetia alone, and being,
+indeed, too much excited to speak on any other subject, plunged at
+once into the full narrative; defended Lord Cadurcis, abused the
+Monteagles and the slanderous world, and, in spite of Lady Annabel's
+ill-concealed dissatisfaction, favoured her with an exact and
+circumstantial account of everything that had happened, how it
+happened, when it happened, and where it happened; concluding by a
+declaration that Cadurcis was the best fellow that ever lived; the
+most unfortunate, and the most ill-used; and that, if he were to be
+hunted down for an affair like this, over which he had no control,
+there was not a man in London who could be safe for ten minutes. All
+that George effected by his zeal, was to convince Lady Annabel that
+his cousin had entirely corrupted, him; she looked upon her former
+favourite as another victim; but Venetia listened in silence, and not
+without solace.
+
+Two or three days after the riot at the House of Lords, Captain
+Cadurcis burst into his cousin's room with a triumphant countenance.
+'Well, Plantagenet!' he exclaimed, 'I have done it; I have seen
+her alone, and I have put you as right as possible. Nothing can be
+better.'
+
+'Tell me, my dear fellow,' said Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Well, you know, I have called half-a-dozen times,' said George, 'but
+either Lady Annabel was there, or they were not at home, or something
+always occurred to prevent any private communication. But I met her
+to-day with her aunt; I joined them immediately, and kept with them
+the whole morning. I am sorry to say she, I mean Venetia, is devilish
+ill; she is, indeed. However, her aunt now is quite on your side, and
+very kind, I can tell you that. I put her right at first, and she has
+fought our battle bravely. Well, they stopped to call somewhere, and
+Venetia was so unwell that she would not get out, and I was left alone
+in the carriage with her. Time was precious, and I opened at once. I
+told her how wretched you were, and that the only thing that made you
+miserable was about her, because you were afraid she would think you
+so profligate, and all that. I went through it all; told her the exact
+truth, which, indeed, she had before heard; but now I assured her, on
+my honour, that it was exactly what happened; and she said she did not
+doubt it, and could not, from some conversation which you had together
+the day we were all at Hampton Court, and that she felt that nothing
+could have been premeditated, and fully believed that everything had
+occurred as I said; and, however she deplored it, she felt the same
+for you as ever, and prayed for your happiness. Then she told me what
+misery the danger of Lord Monteagle had occasioned her; that she
+thought his death must have been the forerunner of her own; but the
+moment he was declared out of danger seemed the happiest hour of
+her life. I told her you were going to leave England, and asked her
+whether she had any message for you; and she said, "Tell him he is the
+same to me that he has always been." So, when her aunt returned, I
+jumped out and ran on to you at once.'
+
+'You are the best fellow that ever lived, George,' said Lord Cadurcis;
+'and now the world may go to the devil!'
+
+This message from Venetia acted upon Lord Cadurcis like a charm. It
+instantly cleared his mind. He shut himself up in his house for a
+week, and wrote a farewell to England, perhaps the most masterly
+effusion of his powerful spirit. It abounded in passages of
+overwhelming passion, and almost Satanic sarcasm. Its composition
+entirely relieved his long-brooding brain. It contained, moreover,
+a veiled address to Venetia, delicate, tender, and irresistibly
+affecting. He appended also to the publication, the verses he had
+previously addressed to her.
+
+This volume, which was purchased with an avidity exceeding even
+the eagerness with which his former productions had been received,
+exercised extraordinary influence on public opinion. It enlisted the
+feelings of the nation on his side in a struggle with a coterie. It
+was suddenly discovered that Lord Cadurcis was the most injured of
+mortals, and far more interesting than ever. The address to the
+unknown object of his adoration, and the verses to Venetia, mystified
+everybody. Lady Monteagle was universally abused, and all sympathised
+with the long-treasured and baffled affection of the unhappy poet.
+Cadurcis, however, was not to be conciliated. He left his native
+shores in a blaze of glory, but with the accents of scorn still
+quivering on his lip.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The still waters of the broad and winding lake reflected the lustre
+of the cloudless sky. The gentle declinations of the green hills that
+immediately bordered the lake, with an undulating margin that now
+retired into bays of the most picturesque form, now jutted forth
+into woody promontories, and then opened into valleys of sequestered
+beauty, which the eye delighted to pursue, were studded with white
+villas, and cottages scarcely less graceful, and occasionally with
+villages, and even towns; here and there rose a solitary chapel; and,
+scarcely less conspicuous, the black spire of some cypress strikingly
+contrasting with the fair buildings or the radiant foliage that in
+general surrounded them. A rampart of azure mountains raised their
+huge forms behind the nearer hills; and occasionally peering over
+these, like spectres on some brilliant festival, were the ghastly
+visages of the Alpine glaciers.
+
+It was within an hour of sunset, and the long shadows had fallen upon
+the waters; a broad boat, with a variegated awning, rowed by two men,
+approached the steps of a marble terrace. The moment they had reached
+their point of destination, and had fastened the boat to its moorings,
+the men landed their oars, and immediately commenced singing a simple
+yet touching melody, wherewith it was their custom to apprise their
+employers of their arrival.
+
+'Will they come forth this evening, think you, Vittorio?' said one
+boatman to the other.
+
+'By our holy mother, I hope so!' replied his comrade, 'for this light
+air that is now rising will do the young signora more good than fifty
+doctors.'
+
+'They are good people,' said Vittorio. 'It gives me more pleasure to
+row them than any persons who ever hired us.'
+
+'Ay, ay!' said his comrade, 'It was a lucky day when we first put an
+oar in the lake for them, heretics though they be.'
+
+'But they may he converted yet,' said his companion; 'for, as I was
+saying to Father Francisco last night, if the young signora dies, it
+is a sad thing to think what will become of her.'
+
+'And what said the good Father?'
+
+'He shook his head,' said Vittorio.
+
+'When Father Francisco shakes his head, he means a great deal,' said
+his companion.
+
+At this moment a servant appeared on the terrace, to say the ladies
+were at hand; and very shortly afterwards Lady Annabel Herbert, with
+her daughter leaning on her arm, descended the steps, and entered the
+boat. The countenances of the boatmen brightened when they saw them,
+and they both made their inquiries after the health of Venetia with
+tenderness and feeling.
+
+'Indeed, my good friends,' said Venetia, 'I think you are right, and
+the lake will cure me after all.'
+
+'The blessing of the lake be upon you, signora,' said the boatmen,
+crossing themselves.
+
+Just as they were moving off, came running Mistress Pauncefort,
+quite breathless. 'Miss Herbert's fur cloak, my lady; you told me to
+remember, my lady, and I cannot think how I forgot it. But I really
+have been so very hot all day, that such a thing as furs never entered
+my head. And for my part, until I travelled, I always thought furs
+were only worn in Russia. But live and learn, as I say.'
+
+They were now fairly floating on the calm, clear waters, and the
+rising breeze was as grateful to Venetia as the boatmen had imagined.
+
+A return of those symptoms which had before disquieted Lady Annabel
+for her daughter, and which were formerly the cause of their residence
+at Weymouth, had induced her, in compliance with the advice of her
+physicians, to visit Italy; but the fatigue of travel had exhausted
+the energies of Venetia (for in those days the Alps were not passed in
+luxurious travelling carriages) on the very threshold of the promised
+land; and Lady Annabel had been prevailed upon to take a villa on the
+Lago Maggiore, where Venetia had passed two months, still suffering
+indeed from great debility, but not without advantage.
+
+There are few spots more favoured by nature than the Italian lakes and
+their vicinity, combining, as they do, the most sublime features
+of mountainous scenery with all the softer beauties and the varied
+luxuriance of the plain. As the still, bright lake is to the rushing
+and troubled cataract, is Italy to Switzerland and Savoy. Emerging
+from the chaotic ravines and the wild gorges of the Alps, the happy
+land breaks upon us like a beautiful vision. We revel in the sunny
+light, after the unearthly glare of eternal snow. Our sight seems
+renovated as we throw our eager glance over those golden plains,
+clothed with such picturesque trees, sparkling with such graceful
+villages, watered by such noble rivers, and crowned with such
+magnificent cities; and all bathed and beaming in an atmosphere so
+soft and radiant! Every isolated object charms us with its beautiful
+novelty: for the first time we gaze on palaces; the garden, the
+terrace, and the statue, recall our dreams beneath a colder sky;
+and we turn from these to catch the hallowed form of some cupolaed
+convent, crowning the gentle elevation of some green hill, and flanked
+by the cypress or the pine.
+
+The influence of all these delightful objects and of this benign
+atmosphere on the frame and mind of Venetia had been considerable.
+After the excitement of the last year of her life, and the harassing
+and agitating scenes with which it closed, she found a fine solace
+in this fair land and this soft sky, which the sad perhaps can alone
+experience. Its repose alone afforded a consolatory contrast to the
+turbulent pleasure of the great world. She looked back upon those
+glittering and noisy scenes with an aversion which was only modified
+by her self-congratulation at her escape from their exhausting and
+contaminating sphere. Here she recurred, but with all the advantages
+of a change of scene, and a scene so rich in novel and interesting
+associations, to the calm tenor of those days, when not a thought ever
+seemed to escape from Cherbury and its spell-bound seclusion. Her
+books, her drawings, her easel, and her harp, were now again her chief
+pursuits; pursuits, however, influenced by the genius of the land in
+which she lived, and therefore invested with a novel interest; for
+the literature and the history of the country naturally attracted her
+attention; and its fair aspects and sweet sounds, alike inspired her
+pencil and her voice. She had, in the society of her mother, indeed,
+the advantage of communing with a mind not less refined and cultivated
+than her own. Lady Annabel was a companion whose conversation, from
+reading and reflection, was eminently suggestive; and their hours,
+though they lived in solitude, never hung heavy. They were always
+employed, and always cheerful. But Venetia was not more than cheerful.
+Still very young, and gifted with an imaginative and therefore
+sanguine mind, the course of circumstances, however, had checked her
+native spirit, and shaded a brow which, at her time of life and with
+her temperament, should have been rather fanciful than pensive. If
+Venetia, supported by the disciplined energies of a strong mind, had
+schooled herself into not looking back to the past with grief, her
+future was certainly not tinged with the Iris pencil of Hope. It
+seemed to her that it was her fate that life should bring her no
+happier hours than those she now enjoyed. They did not amount to
+exquisite bliss. That was a conviction which, by no process of
+reflection, however ingenious, could she delude herself to credit.
+Venetia struggled to take refuge in content, a mood of mind perhaps
+less natural than it should be to one so young, so gifted, and so
+fair!
+
+Their villa was surrounded by a garden in the ornate and artificial
+style of the country. A marble terrace overlooked the lake, crowned
+with many a statue and vase that held the aloe. The laurel and the
+cactus, the cypress and the pine, filled the air with their fragrance,
+or charmed the eye with their rarity and beauty: the walks were
+festooned with the vine, and they could raise their hands and pluck
+the glowing fruit which screened them, from the beam by which, it was
+ripened. In this enchanted domain Venetia might be often seen, a
+form even fairer than the sculptured nymphs among which she glided,
+catching the gentle breeze that played upon the surface of the lake,
+or watching the white sail that glittered in the sun as it floated
+over its purple bosom.
+
+Yet this beautiful retreat Venetia was soon to quit, and she thought
+of her departure with a sigh. Her mother had been warned to avoid
+the neighbourhood of the mountains in the winter, and the autumn was
+approaching its close. If Venetia could endure the passage of the
+Apennines, it was the intention of Lady Annabel to pass the winter
+on the coast of the Mediterranean; otherwise to settle in one of the
+Lombard cities. At all events, in the course of a few weeks they were
+to quit their villa on the lake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A very few days after this excursion on the lake, Lady Annabel and her
+daughter were both surprised and pleased with a visit from a friend
+whose appearance was certainly very unexpected; this was Captain
+Cadurcis. On his way from Switzerland to Sicily, he had heard of their
+residence in the neighbourhood, and had crossed over from Arona to
+visit them.
+
+The name of Cadurcis was still dear to Venetia, and George had
+displayed such gallantry and devotion in all his cousin's troubles,
+that she was personally attached to him; he had always been a
+favourite of her mother; his arrival, therefore, was welcomed by each
+of the ladies with great cordiality. He accepted the hospitality which
+Lady Annabel offered him, and remained with them a week, a period
+which they spent in visiting the most beautiful and interesting spots
+of the lake, with which they were already sufficiently familiar to
+allow them to prove guides as able as they were agreeable. These
+excursions, indeed, contributed to the pleasure and happiness of the
+whole party. There was about Captain Cadurcis a natural cheerfulness
+which animated every one in his society; a gay simplicity, difficult
+to define, but very charming, and which, without effort, often
+produced deeper impressions than more brilliant and subtle qualities.
+Left alone in the world, and without a single advantage save those
+that nature had conferred upon him, it had often been remarked,
+that in whatever circle he moved George Cadurcis always became the
+favourite and everywhere made friends. His sweet and engaging temper
+had perhaps as much contributed to his professional success as his
+distinguished gallantry and skill. Other officers, no doubt, were
+as brave and able as Captain Cadurcis, but his commanders always
+signalled him out for favourable notice; and, strange to say, his
+success, instead of exciting envy and ill-will, pleased even his less
+fortunate competitors. However hard another might feel his own lot, it
+was soothed by the reflection that George Cadurcis was at least
+more fortunate. His popularity, however, was not confined to his
+profession. His cousin's noble guardian, whom George had never seen
+until he ventured to call upon his lordship on his return to England,
+now looked upon him almost as a son, and omitted no opportunity of
+advancing his interests in the world. Of all the members of the House
+of Commons he was perhaps the only one that everybody praised, and
+his success in the world of fashion had been as remarkable as in his
+profession. These great revolutions in his life and future prospects
+had, however, not produced the slightest change in his mind and
+manners; and this was perhaps the secret spell of his prosperity.
+Though we are most of us the creatures of affectation, simplicity has
+a great charm, especially when attended, as in the present instance,
+with many agreeable and some noble qualities. In spite of the rough
+fortunes of his youth, the breeding of Captain Cadurcis was high; the
+recollection of the race to which he belonged had never been forgotten
+by him. He was proud of his family. He had one of those light hearts,
+too, which enable their possessors to acquire accomplishments with
+facility: he had a sweet voice, a quick ear, a rapid eye. He
+acquired a language as some men learn an air. Then his temper was
+imperturbable, and although the most obliging and kindest-hearted
+creature that ever lived, there was a native dignity about him which
+prevented his goodnature from being abused. No sense of interest
+either could ever induce him to act contrary to the dictates of his
+judgment and his heart. At the risk of offending his patron, George
+sided with his cousin, although he had deeply offended his guardian,
+and although the whole world was against him. Indeed, the strong
+affection that Lord Cadurcis instantly entertained for George is
+not the least remarkable instance of the singular, though silent,
+influence that Captain Cadurcis everywhere acquired. Lord Cadurcis
+had fixed upon him for his friend from the first moment of their
+acquaintance; and though apparently there could not be two characters
+more dissimilar, there were at bottom some striking points of sympathy
+and some strong bonds of union, in the generosity and courage that
+distinguished both, and in the mutual blood that filled their veins.
+
+There seemed to be a tacit understanding between the several members
+of our party that the name of Lord Cadurcis was not to be mentioned.
+Lady Annabel made no inquiry after him; Venetia was unwilling to
+hazard a question which would annoy her mother, and of which the
+answer could not bring her much satisfaction; and Captain Cadurcis did
+not think fit himself to originate any conversation on the subject.
+Nevertheless, Venetia could not help sometimes fancying, when her eyes
+met his, that their mutual thoughts were the same, and both dwelling
+on one who was absent, and of whom her companion would willingly have
+conversed. To confess the truth, indeed, George Cadurcis was on his
+way to join his cousin, who had crossed over from Spain to Barbary,
+and journeyed along the African coast from Tangiers to Tripoli. Their
+point of reunion was to be Sicily or Malta. Hearing of the residence
+of the Herberts on the lake, he thought it would be but kind to
+Plantagenet to visit them, and perhaps to bear to him some message
+from Venetia. There was nothing, indeed, on which Captain Cadurcis
+was more intent than to effect the union between his cousin and Miss
+Herbert. He was deeply impressed with the sincerity of Plantagenet's
+passion, and he himself entertained for the lady the greatest
+affection and admiration. He thought she was the only person whom he
+had ever known, who was really worthy to be his cousin's bride. And,
+independent of her personal charms and undoubted talents, she had
+displayed during the outcry against Lord Cadurcis so much good sense,
+such a fine spirit, and such modest yet sincere affection for the
+victim, that George Cadurcis had almost lost his own heart to her,
+when he was endeavouring to induce her not utterly to reject that of
+another; and it became one of the dreams of his life, that in a little
+time, when all, as he fondly anticipated, had ended as it should,
+and as he wished it, he should be able to find an occasional home at
+Cadurcis Abbey, and enjoy the charming society of one whom he had
+already taught himself to consider as a sister.
+
+'And to-night you must indeed go?' said Venetia, as they were walking
+together on the terrace. It was the only time that they had been alone
+together during his visit.
+
+'I must start from Arona at daybreak,' replied George; 'and I must
+travel quickly, for in less than a month I must be in Sicily.'
+
+'Sicily! Why are you going to Sicily?'
+
+Captain Cadurcis smiled. 'I am going to join a friend of ours,' he
+answered.
+
+'Plantagenet?' she said.
+
+Captain Cadurcis nodded assent.
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'His name has been on my lips several times,' said George.
+
+'I am sure of that,' said Venetia. 'Is he well?'
+
+'He writes to me in fair spirits,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'He has been
+travelling in Spain, and now he is somewhere in Africa; we are to meet
+in Sicily or Malta. I think travel has greatly benefited him. He seems
+quite delighted with his glimpse of Oriental manners, and I should
+scarcely be surprised if he were now to stretch on to Constantinople.'
+
+'I wonder if he will ever return to England,' said Venetia,
+thoughtfully.
+
+'There is only one event that would induce him,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. And then after a pause he added, 'You will not ask me what
+it is?'
+
+'I wish he were in England, and were happy,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is in your power to effect both results,' said her companion.
+
+'It is useless to recur to that subject,' said Venetia. 'Plantagenet
+knows my feelings towards him, but fate has forbidden our destinies to
+be combined.'
+
+'Then he will never return to England, and never be happy. Ah,
+Venetia! what shall I tell him when we meet? What message am I to bear
+him from you?'
+
+'Those regards which he ever possessed, and has never forfeited,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' said his cousin, shaking his head, 'if any man ever
+had reason to be miserable, it is he.'
+
+'We are none of us very happy, I think,' said Venetia, mournfully. 'I
+am sure when I look back to the last few years of my life it seems
+to me that there is some curse hanging over our families. I cannot
+penetrate it; it baffles me.'
+
+'I am sure,' said Captain Cadurcis with great animation, 'nay, I would
+pledge my existence cheerfully on the venture, that if Lady Annabel
+would only relent towards Cadurcis, we should all be the happiest
+people in the world.'
+
+'Heigho!' said Venetia. 'There are other cares in our house besides
+our unfortunate acquaintance with your cousin. We were the last people
+in the world with whom he should ever have become connected.'
+
+'And yet it was an intimacy that commenced auspiciously,' said her
+friend. 'I am sure I have sat with Cadurcis, and listened to him by
+the hour, while he has told me of all the happy days at Cherbury when
+you were both children; the only happy days, according to him, that he
+ever knew.'
+
+'Yes! they were happy days,' said Venetia.
+
+'And what connection could have offered a more rational basis for
+felicity than your union?' he continued. 'Whatever the world may
+think, I, who know Cadurcis to the very bottom of his heart, feel
+assured that you never would have repented for an instant becoming the
+sharer of his life; your families were of equal rank, your estates
+joined, he felt for your mother the affection of a son. There seemed
+every element that could have contributed to earthly bliss. As for his
+late career, you who know all have already, have always indeed,
+viewed it with charity. Placed in his position, who could have acted
+otherwise? I know very well that his genius, which might recommend
+him to another woman, is viewed by your mother with more than
+apprehension. It is true that a man of his exquisite sensibility
+requires sympathies as refined to command his nature. It is no common
+mind that could maintain its hold over Cadurcis, and his spirit could
+not yield but to rare and transcendent qualities. He found them,
+Venetia, he found them in her whom he had known longest and most
+intimately, and loved from his boyhood. Talk of constancy, indeed! who
+has been so constant as my cousin? No, Venetia! you may think fit to
+bow to the feelings of your mother, and it would be impertinence in me
+to doubt for an instant the propriety of your conduct: I do not doubt
+it; I admire it; I admire you, and everything you have done; none can
+view your behaviour throughout all these painful transactions with
+more admiration, I might even say with more reverence, than myself;
+but, Venetia, you never can persuade me, you have never attempted to
+persuade me, that you yourself are incredulous of the strength and
+permanency of my cousin's love.'
+
+'Ah, George! you are our friend!' said Venetia, a tear stealing down
+her cheek. 'But, indeed, we must not talk of these things. As for
+myself, I think not of happiness. I am certain I am not born to be
+happy. I wish only to live calmly; contentedly, I would say; but that,
+perhaps, is too much. My feelings have been so harrowed, my mind so
+harassed, during these last few years, and so many causes of pain and
+misery seem ever hovering round my existence, that I do assure you,
+my dear friend, I have grown old before my time. Ah! you may smile,
+George, but my heart is heavy; it is indeed.'
+
+'I wish I could lighten it,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'I fear I am
+somewhat selfish in wishing you to marry my cousin, for then you know
+I should have a permanent and authentic claim to your regard. But no
+one, at least I think so, can feel more deeply interested in your
+welfare than I do. I never knew any one like you, and I always tell
+Cadurcis so, and that I think makes him worse, but I cannot help it.'
+
+Venetia could not refrain from smiling at the simplicity of this
+confession.
+
+'Well,' continued her companion,' everything, after all, is for the
+best. You and Plantagenet are both very young; I live in hopes that I
+shall yet see you Lady Cadurcis.'
+
+Venetia shook her head, but was not sorry that their somewhat
+melancholy conversation should end in a livelier vein. So they entered
+the villa.
+
+The hour of parting was painful, and the natural gaiety of Captain
+Cadurcis deserted him. He had become greatly attached to the Herberts.
+Without any female relatives of his own, their former intimacy and
+probable connection with his cousin had taught him to look upon them
+in some degree in the light of kindred. He had originally indeed
+become acquainted with them in all the blaze of London society, not
+very calculated to bring out the softer tints and more subdued tones
+of our character, but even then the dignified grace of Lady Annabel
+and the radiant beauty of Venetia, had captivated him, and he had
+cultivated their society with assiduity and extreme pleasure. The
+grand crisis of his cousin's fortunes had enabled him to become
+intimate with the more secret and serious qualities of Venetia, and
+from that moment he had taken the deepest interest in everything
+connected with her. His happy and unexpected meeting in Italy had
+completed the spell; and now that he was about to leave them,
+uncertain even if they should ever meet again, his soft heart
+trembled, and he could scarcely refrain from tears as he pressed their
+hands, and bade them his sincere adieus.
+
+The moon had risen, ere he entered his boat, and flung a rippling line
+of glittering light on the bosom of the lake. The sky was without a
+cloud, save a few thin fleecy vapours that hovered over the azure brow
+of a distant mountain. The shores of the lake were suffused with the
+serene effulgence, and every object was so distinct, that the eye was
+pained by the lights of the villages, that every instant became more
+numerous and vivid. The bell of a small chapel on the opposite shore,
+and the distant chant of some fishermen still working at their nets,
+were the only sounds that broke the silence which they did not
+disturb. Reclined in his boat, George Cadurcis watched the vanishing
+villa of the Herberts, until the light in the principal chamber was
+the only sign that assured him of its site. That chamber held Venetia,
+the unhappy Venetia! He covered his face with his hand when even
+the light of her chamber vanished, and, full of thoughts tender and
+disconsolate, he at length arrived at Arona.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Pursuant to their plans, the Herberts left the Lago Maggiore towards
+the end of October, and proceeded by gentle journeys to the Apennines.
+Before they crossed this barrier, they were to rest awhile in one of
+the Lombard cities; and now they were on the point of reaching Arquâ,
+which Venetia had expressed a strong desire to visit.
+
+At the latter part of the last century, the race of tourists, the
+offspring of a long peace, and the rapid fortunes made during the war,
+did not exist. Travelling was then confined to the aristocracy,
+and though the English, when opportunity offered, have ever been a
+restless people, the gentle bosom of the Euganean Hills was then
+rarely disturbed amid its green and sequestered valleys.
+
+There is not perhaps in all the Italian region, fertile as it is in
+interesting associations and picturesque beauty, a spot that tradition
+and nature have so completely combined to hallow, as the last
+residence of Petrarch. It seems, indeed, to have been formed for the
+retirement of a pensive and poetic spirit. It recedes from the world
+by a succession of delicate acclivities clothed with vineyards and
+orchards, until, winding within these hills, the mountain hamlet is
+at length discovered, enclosed by two ridges that slope towards each
+other, and seem to shut out all the passions of a troubled race. The
+houses are scattered at intervals on the steep sides of these summits,
+and on a little knoll is the mansion of the poet, built by himself,
+and commanding a rich and extensive view, that ends only with the
+shores of the Adriatic sea. His tomb, a sarcophagus of red marble,
+supported by pillars, doubtless familiar to the reader, is at hand;
+and, placed on an elevated site, gives a solemn impression to a scene,
+of which the character would otherwise be serenely cheerful.
+
+Our travellers were surprised to find that the house of the poet was
+inhabited by a very different tenant to the rustic occupier they had
+anticipated. They heard that a German gentleman had within the last
+year fixed upon it as the residence of himself and his wife. The
+peasants were profuse in their panegyrics of this visitor, whose
+arrival had proved quite an era in the history of their village.
+According to them, a kinder and more charitable gentleman never
+breathed; his whole life was spent in studying and contributing to the
+happiness of those around him. The sick, the sorrowful, and the needy
+were ever sure of finding a friend in him, and merit a generous
+patron. From him came portions to the portionless; no village maiden
+need despair of being united to her betrothed, while he could assist
+her; and at his own cost he had sent to the academy of Bologna, a
+youth whom his father would have made a cowherd, but whom nature
+predisposed to be a painter. The inhabitants believed this benevolent
+and generous person was a physician, for he attended the sick,
+prescribed for their complaints, and had once even performed an
+operation with great success. It seemed that, since Petrarch, no one
+had ever been so popular at Arquâ as this kind German. Lady Annabel
+and Venetia were interested with the animated narratives of the
+ever-active beneficence of this good man, and Lady Annabel especially
+regretted that his absence deprived her of the gratification of
+becoming acquainted with a character so rare and so invaluable. In the
+meantime they availed themselves of the offer of his servants to view
+the house of Petrarch, for their master had left orders, that his
+absence should never deprive a pilgrim from paying his homage to the
+shrine of genius.
+
+The house, consisting of two floors, had recently been repaired by
+the present occupier. It was simply furnished. The ground-floor was
+allotted to the servants. The upper story contained five rooms, three
+of which were of good size, and two closets. In one of these were the
+traditionary chair and table of Petrarch, and here, according to their
+guides, the master of the house passed a great portion of his time in
+study, to which, by their account, he seemed devoted. The adjoining
+chamber was his library; its windows opened on a balcony looking on
+two lofty and conical hills, one topped with a convent, while the
+valley opened on the side and spread into a calm and very pleasant
+view. Of the other apartments, one served as a saloon, but there was
+nothing in it remarkable, except an admirably painted portrait of a
+beautiful woman, which the servant informed them was their mistress.
+
+'But that surely is not a German physiognomy?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'The mistress is an Italian,' replied the servant.
+
+'She is very handsome, of whatever nation she may be,' replied Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Oh! how I should have liked to have met these happy people, mamma,'
+said Venetia, 'for happy they surely must be.'
+
+'They seem to be good people,' said Lady Annabel. 'It really lightened
+my heart to hear of all this gentleman's kind deeds.'
+
+'Ah! if the signora only knew the master,' said their guide, 'she
+would indeed know a good man.'
+
+They descended to the garden, which certainly was not like the garden
+of their villa; it had been but lately a wilderness of laurels, but
+there were evidences that the eye and hand of taste were commencing
+its restoration with effect.
+
+'The master did this,' said their guide. 'He will allow no one to work
+in the garden but himself. It is a week since he went to Bologna, to
+see our Paulo. He gained a prize at the academy, and his father begged
+the master to be present when it was conferred on him; he said it
+would do his son so much good! So the master went, though it is the
+only time he has quitted Quâ since he came to reside here.'
+
+'And how long has he resided here?' inquired Venetia.
+
+''Tis the second autumn,' said the guide, 'and he came in the spring.
+If the signora would only wait, we expect the master home to-night or
+to-morrow, and he would be glad to see her.'
+
+'We cannot wait, my friend,' said Lady Annabel, rewarding the guide;
+'but you will thank your master in our names, for the kindness we have
+experienced. You are all happy in such a friend.'
+
+'I must write my name in Petrarch's house,' said Venetia. 'Adieu,
+happy Arquâ! Adieu, happy dwellers in this happy valley!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Just as Lady Annabel and her daughter arrived at Rovigo, one of those
+sudden and violent storms that occasionally occur at the termination
+of an Italian autumn raged with irresistible fury. The wind roared
+with a noise that overpowered the thunder; then came a rattling shower
+of hail, with stones as big as pigeons' eggs, succeeded by rain, not
+in showers, but literally in cataracts. The only thing to which
+a tempest of rain in Italy can be compared is the bursting of a
+waterspout. Venetia could scarcely believe that this could be the same
+day of which the golden morning had found her among the sunny hills of
+Arquâ. This unexpected vicissitude induced Lady Annabel to alter her
+plans, and she resolved to rest at Rovigo, where she was glad to find
+that they could be sheltered in a commodious inn.
+
+The building had originally been a palace, and in its halls and
+galleries, and the vast octagonal vestibule on which the principal
+apartments opened, it retained many noble indications of the purposes
+to which it was formerly destined.
+
+At present, a lazy innkeeper who did nothing; his bustling wife,
+who seemed equally at home in the saloon, the kitchen, and even the
+stable; and a solitary waiter, were the only inmates, except the
+Herberts, and a travelling party, who had arrived shortly after them,
+and who, like them, had been driven by stress of weather to seek
+refuge at a place where otherwise they had not intended to remain.
+
+A blazing fire of pine wood soon gave cheerfulness to the vast and
+somewhat desolate apartment into which our friends had been ushered;
+their sleeping-room was adjoining, but separated. In spite of the
+lamentations of Pauncefort, who had been drenched to the skin, and who
+required much more waiting upon than her mistress, Lady Annabel and
+Venetia at length produced some degree of comfort. They drew the table
+near the fire; they ensconced themselves behind an old screen; and,
+producing their books and work notwithstanding the tempest, they
+contrived to domesticate themselves at Rovigo.
+
+'I cannot help thinking of Arquâ and its happy tenants, mamma,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'And yet, perhaps, they may have their secret sorrows,' said
+Lady Annabel. 'I know not why, I always associate seclusion with
+unhappiness.'
+
+Venetia remembered Cherbury. Their life at Cherbury was like the life
+of the German at Arquâ. A chance visitor to Cherbury in their absence,
+viewing the beautiful residence and the fair domain, and listening to
+the tales which they well might hear of all her mother's grace and
+goodness, might perhaps too envy its happy occupiers. But were they
+happy? Had they no secret sorrows? Was their seclusion associated with
+unhappiness? These were reflections that made Venetia grave; but she
+opened her journal, and, describing the adventures and feelings of the
+morning, she dissipated some mournful reminiscences.
+
+The storm still raged, Venetia had quitted the saloon in which her
+mother and herself had been sitting, and had repaired to the adjoining
+chamber to fetch a book. The door of this room opened, as all the
+other entrances of the different apartments, on to the octagonal
+vestibule. Just as she was quitting the room, and about to return to
+her mother, the door of the opposite chamber opened, and there came
+forward a gentleman in a Venetian dress of black velvet. His stature
+was much above the middle height, though his figure, which was
+remarkably slender, was bowed; not by years certainly, for his
+countenance, though singularly emaciated, still retained traces
+of youth. His hair, which he wore very long, descended over his
+shoulders, and must originally have been of a light golden colour, but
+now was severely touched with grey. His countenance was very pallid,
+so colourless indeed that its aspect was almost unearthly; but his
+large blue eyes, that were deeply set in his majestic brow, still
+glittered with fire, and their expression alone gave life to a visage,
+which, though singularly beautiful in its outline, from its faded and
+attenuated character seemed rather the countenance of a corpse than of
+a breathing being.
+
+The glance of the stranger caught that of Venetia, and seemed to
+fascinate her. She suddenly became motionless; wildly she stared at
+the stranger, who, in his turn, seemed arrested in his progress, and
+stood still as a statue, with his eyes fixed with absorbing interest
+on the beautiful apparition before him. An expression of perplexity
+and pain flitted over the amazed features of Venetia; and then it
+seemed that, by some almost supernatural effort, confusion amounting
+to stupefaction suddenly brightened and expanded into keen and
+overwhelming intelligence. Exclaiming in a frenzied tone, 'My father!'
+Venetia sprang forward, and fell senseless on the stranger's breast.
+
+Such, after so much mystery, so many aspirations, so much anxiety, and
+so much suffering, such was the first meeting of Venetia Herbert with
+her father!
+
+Marmion Herbert, himself trembling and speechless, bore the apparently
+lifeless Venetia into his apartment. Not permitting her for a moment
+to quit his embrace, he seated himself, and gazed silently on the
+inanimate and unknown form he held so strangely within his arms. Those
+lips, now closed as if in death, had uttered however one word
+which thrilled to his heart, and still echoed, like a supernatural
+annunciation, within his ear. He examined with an eye of agitated
+scrutiny the fair features no longer sensible of his presence. He
+gazed upon that transparent brow, as if he would read some secret in
+its pellucid veins; and touched those long locks of golden hair with a
+trembling finger, that seemed to be wildly seeking for some vague and
+miraculous proof of inexpressible identity. The fair creature had
+called him 'Father.' His dreaming reveries had never pictured a being
+half so beautiful! She called him 'Father!' Tha word had touched
+his brain, as lightning cuts a tree. He looked around him with a
+distracted air, then gazed on the tranced form he held with a glance
+which would have penetrated her soul, and murmured unconsciously the
+wild word she had uttered. She called him 'Father!' He dared not think
+who she might be. His thoughts were wandering in a distant land;
+visions of another life, another country, rose before him, troubled
+and obscure. Baffled aspirations, and hopes blighted in the bud, and
+the cherished secrets of his lorn existence, clustered like clouds
+upon his perplexed, yet creative, brain. She called him, 'Father!' It
+was a word to make him mad. 'Father!' This beautiful being had
+called him 'Father,' and seemed to have expired, as it were, in the
+irresistible expression. His heart yearned to her; he had met her
+embrace with an inexplicable sympathy; her devotion had seemed, as it
+were, her duty and his right. Yet who was she? He was a father. It
+was a fact, a fact alike full of solace and mortification, the
+consciousness of which never deserted him. But he was the father of an
+unknown child; to him the child of his poetic dreams, rather than his
+reality. And now there came this radiant creature, and called him
+'Father!' Was he awake, and in the harsh busy world; or was it the
+apparition of au over-excited imagination, brooding too constantly on
+one fond idea, on which he now gazed so fixedly? Was this some spirit?
+Would that she would speak again! Would that those sealed lips would
+part and utter but one word, would but again call him 'Father,' and he
+asked no more!
+
+'Father!' to be called 'Father' by one whom he could not name, by one
+over whom he mused in solitude, by one to whom he had poured forth all
+the passion of his desolate soul; to be called 'Father' by this being
+was the aspiring secret of his life. He had painted her to himself in
+his loneliness, he had conjured up dreams of ineffable loveliness, and
+inexpressible love; he had led with her an imaginary life of thrilling
+tenderness; he had indulged in a delicious fancy of mutual interchange
+of the most exquisite offices of our nature; and then, when he had
+sometimes looked around him, and found no daughter there, no beaming
+countenance of purity to greet him with its constant smile, and
+receive the quick and ceaseless tribute of his vigilant affection, the
+tears had stolen down his lately-excited features, all the consoling
+beauty of his visions had vanished into air, he had felt the deep
+curse of his desolation, and had anathematised the cunning brain
+that made his misery a thousand-fold keener by the mockery of its
+transporting illusions.
+
+And now there came this transcendent creature, with a form more
+glowing than all his dreams; a voice more musical than a seraphic
+chorus, though it had uttered but one thrilling word: there came this
+transcendent creature, beaming with grace, beauty, and love, and had
+fallen upon his heart, and called him 'Father!'
+
+Herbert looked up to heaven as if waiting for some fresh miracle to
+terminate the harrowing suspense of his tortured mind; Herbert looked
+down upon his mysterious companion; the rose was gradually returning
+to her cheek, her lips seemed to tremble with reviving breath. There
+was only one word more strange to his ear than that which she had
+uttered, but an irresistible impulse sent forth the sound.
+
+'Venetia!' he exclaimed.
+
+The eyes of the maiden slowly opened; she stared around her with a
+vague glance of perplexity, not unmingled with pain; she looked up;
+she caught the rapt gaze of her father, bending over her with
+fondness yet with fear; his lips moved, for a moment they refused to
+articulate, yet at length they again uttered, 'Venetia!' And the only
+response she made was to cling to him with nervous energy, and hide
+her face in his bosom.
+
+Herbert pressed her to his heart. Yet even now he hesitated to credit
+the incredible union. Again he called her by her name, but added with
+rising confidence, 'My Venetia!'
+
+'Your child, your child,' she murmured. 'Your own Venetia.'
+
+He pressed his lips to hers; he breathed over her a thousand
+blessings; she felt his tears trickling on her neck.
+
+At length Venetia looked up and sighed; she was exhausted by the
+violence of her emotions: her father relaxed his grasp with infinite
+tenderness, watching her with delicate solicitude; she leaned her arm
+upon his shoulder with downcast eyes.
+
+Herbert gently took her disengaged hand, and pressed it to his lips.
+'I am as in a dream,' murmured Venetia.
+
+'The daughter of my heart has found her sire,' said Herbert in an
+impassioned voice. 'The father who has long lived upon her fancied
+image; the father, I fear, she has been bred up to hate.'
+
+'Oh! no, no!' said Venetia, speaking rapidly and with a slight shiver;
+'not hate! it was a secret, his being was a secret, his name was never
+mentioned; it was unknown.'
+
+'A secret! My existence a secret from my child, my beautiful fond
+child!' exclaimed Herbert in a tone even more desolate than bitter.
+'Why did they not let you at least hate me!'
+
+'My father!' said Venetia, in a firmer voice, and with returning
+animation, yet gazing around her with a still distracted air, 'Am I
+with my father? The clouds clear from my brain. I remember that we
+met. Where was it? Was it at Arquâ? In the garden? I am with my
+father!' she continued in a rapid tone and with a wild smile. 'Oh! let
+me look on him;' and she turned round, and gazed upon Herbert with
+a serious scrutiny. 'Are you my father?' she continued, in a still,
+small voice. 'Your hair has grown grey since last I saw you; it was
+golden then, like mine. I know you are my father,' she added, after a
+pause, and in a tone almost of gaiety. 'You cannot deceive me. I know
+your name. They did not tell it me; I found it out myself, but it made
+me very ill, very; and I do not think I have ever been quite well
+since. You are Marmion Herbert. My mother had a dog called Marmion,
+when I was a little girl, but I did not know I had a father then.'
+
+'Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, with streaming eyes, as he listened with
+anguish to these incoherent sentences. 'My Venetia loves me!'
+
+'Oh! she always loved you,' replied Venetia; always, always. Before
+she knew her father she loved him. I dare say you think I do not love
+you, because I am not used to speak to a father. Everything must be
+learnt, you know,' she said, with a faint, sad smile; 'and then it
+was so sudden! I do not think my mother knows it yet. And after all,
+though I found you out in a moment, still, I know not why, I thought
+it was a picture. But I read your verses, and I knew them by heart at
+once; but now my memory has worn out, for I am ill, and everything has
+gone cross with me. And all because my father wrote me verses. 'Tis
+very strange, is not it?'
+
+'Sweet lamb of my affections,' exclaimed Herbert to himself, 'I fear
+me much this sudden meeting with one from whose bosom you ought never
+to have been estranged, has been for the moment too great a trial for
+this delicate brain.'
+
+'I will not tell my mother,' said Venetia; 'she will be angry.'
+
+'Your mother, darling; where is your mother?' said Herbert, looking,
+if possible, paler than he was wont.
+
+She was at Arquâ with me, and on the lake for months, but where we are
+now, I cannot say. If I could only remember where we are now,' she
+added with earnestness, and with a struggle to collect herself, 'I
+should know everything.'
+
+'This is Rovigo, my child, the inn of Rovigo. You are travelling with
+your mother. Is it not so?'
+
+'Yes! and we came this morning, and it rained. Now I know everything,'
+said Venetia, with an animated and even cheerful air.
+
+'And we met in the vestibule, my sweet,' continued Herbert, in a
+soothing voice; 'we came out of opposite chambers, and you knew me; my
+Venetia knew me. Try to tell me, my darling,' he added, in a tone of
+coaxing fondness, 'try to remember how Venetia knew her father.'
+
+'He was so like his picture at Cherbury,' replied Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' exclaimed Herbert, with a deep-drawn sigh.
+
+'Only your hair has grown grey, dear father; but it is long, quite as
+long as in your picture.'
+
+'Her dog called Marmion!' murmured Herbert to himself, 'and my
+portrait, too! You saw your father's portrait, then, every day, love?'
+
+'Oh, no! said Venetia, shaking her head, 'only once, only once. And I
+never told mamma. It was where no one could go, but I went there one
+day. It was in a room that no one ever entered except mamma, but
+I entered it. I stole the key, and had a fever, and in my fever I
+confessed all. But I never knew it. Mamma never told me I confessed
+it, until many, many years afterwards. It was the first, the only time
+she ever mentioned to me your name, my father.'
+
+'And she told you to shun me, to hate me? She told you I was a
+villain, a profligate, a demon? eh? eh? Was it not so, Venetia?'
+
+'She told me that you had broken her heart,' said Venetia; 'and she
+prayed to God that her child might not be so miserable.'
+
+'Oh, my Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, pressing her to his breast,
+and in a voice stifled with emotion, 'I feel now we might have been
+happy!'
+
+In the meantime the prolonged absence of her daughter surprised
+Lady Annabel. At length she rose, and walked into their adjoining
+apartment, but to her surprise Venetia was not there. Returning to her
+saloon, she found Pauncefort and the waiter arranging the table for
+dinner.
+
+'Where is Miss Herbert, Pauncefort?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I am sure, my lady, I cannot say. I have no doubt she is in the other
+room.'
+
+'She is not there, for I have just quitted it,' replied Lady Annabel.
+'How very strange! You have not seen the signora?' inquired Lady
+Annabel of the waiter.
+
+'The signora is in the room with the gentleman.'
+
+'The gentleman!' exclaimed Lady Annabel. 'Tell me, good man, what do
+you mean? I am inquiring for my daughter.'
+
+'I know well the signora is talking of her daughter,' replied the
+waiter.
+
+'But do you know my daughter by sight? Surely you you must mean some
+one else.'
+
+'Do I know the signora's daughter?' said the waiter. 'The beautiful
+young lady, with hair like Santa Marguerita, in the church of the Holy
+Trinity! I tell the signora, I saw her carried into numero 4, in the
+arms of the Signor Forestiere, who arrived this morning.'
+
+'Venetia is ill,' said Lady Annabel. 'Show me to the room, my friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accordingly, with a hurried step, following her guide,
+quitted the chamber. Pauncefort remained fixed to the earth, the very
+picture of perplexity.
+
+'Well, to be sure!' she exclaimed, 'was anything ever so strange! In
+the arms of Signor Forestiere! Forestiere. An English name. There is
+no person of the name of Forest that I know. And in his arms, too! I
+should not wonder if it was my lord after all. Well, I should be glad
+if he were to come to light again, for, after all, my lady may say
+what she likes, but if Miss Venetia don't marry Lord Cadurcis, I must
+say marriages were never made in heaven!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The waiter threw open the door of Mr. Herbert's chamber, and Lady
+Annabel swept in with a majesty she generally assumed when about to
+meet strangers. The first thing she beheld was her daughter in
+the arms of a man whose head was bent, and who was embracing her.
+Notwithstanding this astounding spectacle, Lady Annabel neither
+started nor screamed; she only said in an audible tone, and one rather
+expressing astonishment than agitation, 'Venetia!'
+
+Immediately the stranger looked up, and Lady Annabel beheld her
+husband!
+
+She was rooted to the earth. She turned deadly pale; for a moment her
+countenance expressed only terror, but the terror quickly changed into
+aversion. Suddenly she rushed forward, and exclaimed in a tone in
+which decision conquered dismay, 'Restore me my child!'
+
+The moment Herbert had recognised his wife he had dexterously
+disengaged himself from the grasp of Venetia, whom he left on the
+chair, and meeting Lady Annabel with extended arms, that seemed to
+deprecate her wrath, he said, 'I seek not to deprive you of her; she
+is yours, and she is worthy of you; but respect, for a few moments,
+the feelings of a father who has met his only child in a manner so
+unforeseen.'
+
+The presence of her mother instantaneously restored Venetia to
+herself. Her mind was in a moment cleared and settled. Her past and
+peculiar life, and all its incidents, recurred to her with their
+accustomed order, vividness, and truth. She thoroughly comprehended
+her present situation. Actuated by long-cherished feelings and the
+necessity of the occasion, she rose and threw herself at her mother's
+feet and exclaimed, 'O mother! he is my father, love him!'
+
+Lady Annabel stood with an averted countenance, Venetia clinging to
+her hand, which she had caught when she rushed forward, and which now
+fell passive by Lady Annabel's side, giving no sign, by any pressure
+or motion, of the slightest sympathy with her daughter, or feeling for
+the strange and agonising situation in which they were both placed.
+
+'Annabel,' said Herbert, in a voice that trembled, though the speaker
+struggled to appear calm, 'be charitable! I have never intruded upon
+your privacy; I will not now outrage it. Accident, or some diviner
+motive, has brought us together this day. If you will not treat me
+with kindness, look not upon me with aversion before our child.'
+
+Still she was silent and motionless, her countenance hidden from her
+husband and her daughter, but her erect and haughty form betokening
+her inexorable mind. 'Annabel,' said Herbert, who had now withdrawn
+to some distance, and leant against a pillar, 'will not then nearly
+twenty years of desolation purchase one moment of intercourse? I have
+injured you. Be it so. This is not the moment I will defend myself.
+But have I not suffered? Is not this meeting a punishment deeper
+even than your vengeance could devise? Is it nothing to behold this
+beautiful child, and feel that she is only yours? Annabel, look on me,
+look on me only one moment! My frame is bowed, my hair is grey, my
+heart is withered; the principle of existence waxes faint and slack in
+this attenuated frame. I am no longer that Herbert on whom you once
+smiled, but a man stricken with many sorrows. The odious conviction of
+my life cannot long haunt you; yet a little while, and my memory will
+alone remain. Think of this, Annabel; I beseech you, think of it. Oh!
+believe me, when the speedy hour arrives that will consign me to the
+grave, where I shall at least find peace, it will not be utterly
+without satisfaction that you will remember that we met if even by
+accident, and parted at least not with harshness!'
+
+'Mother, dearest mother!' murmured Venetia, 'speak to him, look on
+him!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her mother, without turning her head, but in a calm,
+firm tone, 'your father has seen you, has conversed with you. Between
+your father and myself there can be nothing to communicate, either of
+fact or feeling. Now let us depart.'
+
+'No, no, not depart!' said Venetia franticly. 'You did not say depart,
+dear mother! I cannot go,' she added in a low and half-hysterical
+voice.
+
+'Desert me, then,' said the mother. 'A fitting consequence of your
+private communications with your father,' she added in a tone of
+bitter scorn; and Lady Annabel moved to depart, but Venetia, still
+kneeling, clung to her convulsively.
+
+'Mother, mother, you shall not go; you shall not leave me; we will
+never part, mother,' continued Venetia, in a tone almost of violence,
+as she perceived her mother give no indication of yielding to her
+wish. 'Are my feelings then nothing?' she then exclaimed. 'Is this
+your sense of my fidelity? Am I for ever to be a victim?' She loosened
+her hold of her mother's hand, her mother moved on, Venetia fell upon
+her forehead and uttered a faint scream. The heart of Lady Annabel
+relented when she fancied her daughter suffered physical pain, however
+slight; she hesitated, she turned, she hastened to her child; her
+husband had simultaneously advanced; in the rapid movement and
+confusion her hand touched that of Herbert.
+
+'I yield her to you, Annabel,' said Herbert, placing Venetia in her
+mother's arms. 'You mistake me, as you have often mistaken me, if you
+think I seek to practise on the feelings of this angelic child. She is
+yours; may she compensate you for the misery I have caused you, but
+never sought to occasion!'
+
+'I am not hurt, dear mother,' said Venetia, as her mother tenderly
+examined her forehead. 'Dear, dear mother, why did you reproach me?'
+
+'Forget it,' said Lady Annabel, in a softened tone; 'for indeed you
+are irreproachable.'
+
+'O Annabel!' said Herbert, 'may not this child be some atonement, this
+child, of whom I solemnly declare I would not deprive you, though I
+would willingly forfeit my life for a year of her affection; and your,
+your sufferance,' he added.
+
+'Mother! speak to him,' said Venetia, with her head on her mother's
+bosom, who still, however, remained rigidly standing. But Lady Annabel
+was silent.
+
+'Your mother was ever stern and cold, Venetia,' said Herbert, the
+bitterness of his heart at length expressing itself.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, with great energy; 'never; you know not my
+mother. Was she stern and cold when she visited each night in secret
+your portrait?' said Venetia, looking round upon her astonished
+father, with her bright grey eye. 'Was she stern and cold when she
+wept over your poems, those poems whose characters your own hand had
+traced? Was she stern and cold when she hung a withered wreath on your
+bridal bed, the bed to which I owe my miserable being? Oh, no, my
+father! sad was the hour of separation for my mother and yourself.
+It may have dimmed the lustre of her eye, and shaded your locks with
+premature grey; but whatever may have been its inscrutable cause,
+there was one victim of that dark hour, less thought of than
+yourselves, and yet a greater sufferer than both, the being in whose
+heart you implanted affections, whose unfulfilled tenderness has made
+that wretched thing they call your daughter.'
+
+'Annabel!' exclaimed Herbert, rapidly advancing, with an imploring
+gesture, and speaking in a tone of infinite anguish, 'Annabel,
+Annabel, even now we can be happy!'
+
+The countenance of his wife was troubled, but its stern expression had
+disappeared. The long-concealed, yet at length irrepressible, emotion
+of Venetia had touched her heart. In the conflict of affection between
+the claims of her two parents, Lady Annabel had observed with a
+sentiment of sweet emotion, in spite of all the fearfulness of the
+meeting, that Venetia had not faltered in her devotion to her mother.
+The mental torture of her child touched her to the quick. In the
+excitement of her anguish, Venetia had expressed a profound sentiment,
+the irresistible truth of which Lady Annabel could no longer
+withstand. She had too long and too fondly schooled herself to look
+upon the outraged wife as the only victim. There was then, at length
+it appeared to this stern-minded woman, another. She had laboured in
+the flattering delusion that the devotion of a mother's love might
+compensate to Venetia for the loss of that other parent, which in some
+degree Lady Annabel had occasioned her; for the worthless husband, had
+she chosen to tolerate the degrading connection, might nevertheless
+have proved a tender father. But Nature, it seemed, had shrunk from
+the vain effort of the isolated mother. The seeds of affection for
+the father of her being were mystically implanted in the bosom of his
+child. Lady Annabel recalled the harrowing hours that this attempt by
+her to curb and control the natural course and rising sympathies
+of filial love had cost her child, on whom she had so vigilantly
+practised it. She recalled her strange aspirations, her inspired
+curiosity, her brooding reveries, her fitful melancholy, her terrible
+illness, her resignation, her fidelity, her sacrifices: there came
+across the mind of Lady Annabel a mortifying conviction that the
+devotion to her child, on which she had so rated herself, might
+after all only prove a subtle form of profound selfishness; and that
+Venetia, instead of being the idol of her love, might eventually be
+the martyr of her pride. And, thinking of these things, she wept.
+
+This evidence of emotion, which in such a spirit Herbert knew how to
+estimate, emboldened him to advance; he fell on one knee before her
+and her daughter; gently he stole her hand, and pressed it to his
+lips. It was not withdrawn, and Venetia laid her hand upon theirs,
+and would have bound them together had her mother been relentless.
+It seemed to Venetia that she was at length happy, but she would
+not speak, she would not disturb the still and silent bliss of the
+impending reconciliation. Was it then indeed at hand? In truth, the
+deportment of Herbert throughout the whole interview, so delicate, so
+subdued, so studiously avoiding the slightest rivaly with his wife
+in the affections of their child, and so carefully abstaining from
+attempting in the slightest degree to control the feelings of Venetia,
+had not been lost upon Lady Annabel. And when she thought of him, so
+changed from what he had been, grey, bent, and careworn, with all the
+lustre that had once so fascinated her, faded, and talking of that
+impending fate which his wan though spiritual countenance too clearly
+intimated, her heart melted.
+
+Suddenly the door burst open, and there stalked into the room a woman
+of eminent but most graceful stature, and of a most sovereign and
+voluptuous beauty. She was habited in the Venetian dress; her dark
+eyes glittered with fire, her cheek was inflamed with no amiable
+emotion, and her long black hair was disordered by the violence of her
+gesture.
+
+'And who are these?' she exclaimed in a shrill voice.
+
+All started; Herbert sprang up from his position with a glance of
+withering rage. Venetia was perplexed, Lady Annabel looked round, and
+recognised the identical face, however distorted by passion, that she
+had admired in the portrait at Arquâ.
+
+'And who are these?' exclaimed the intruder, advancing. 'Perfidious
+Marmion! to whom do you dare to kneel?'
+
+Lady Annabel drew herself up to a height that seemed to look down even
+upon this tall stranger. The expression of majestic scorn that she
+cast upon the intruder made her, in spite of all her violence and
+excitement, tremble and be silent: she felt cowed she knew not why.
+
+'Come, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel with all her usual composure, 'let
+me save my daughter at least from this profanation,'
+
+'Annabel!' said Herbert, rushing after them, 'be charitable, be just!'
+He followed them to the threshold of the door; Venetia was silent, for
+she was alarmed.
+
+'Adieu, Marmion!' said Lady Annabel, looking over her shoulder with a
+bitter smile, but placing her daughter before her, as if to guard her.
+'Adieu, Marmion! adieu for ever!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The moon shone brightly on the house of Petrarch, and the hamlet
+slept in peace. Not a sound was heard, save the shrill voice of the
+grasshoppers, so incessant that its monotony blended, as it were, with
+the stillness. Over the green hills and the far expanse of the sheeny
+plain, the beautiful light of heaven fell with all the magical repose
+of the serene hour, an hour that brought to one troubled breast, and
+one distracted spirit, in that still and simple village, no quietude.
+
+Herbert came forth into the balcony of his residence, and leaning over
+the balustrade, revolved in his agitated mind the strange and stirring
+incidents of the day. His wife and his child had quitted the inn of
+Rovigo instantly after that mortifying rencounter that had dashed so
+cruelly to the ground all his sweet and quickly-rising hopes. As for
+his companion, she had by his peremptory desire returned to Arquâ
+alone; he was not in a mood to endure her society; but he had
+conducted himself to her mildly, though with firmness; he had promised
+to follow her, and, in pursuance of his pledge, he rode home alone.
+
+He was greeted on his return by his servant, full of the the visit
+of the morning. With an irresistible curiosity, Herbert had made him
+describe every incident that had occurred, and repeat a hundred times
+every word that the visitors had uttered. He listened with some
+consolation, however mournful, to his wife's praises of the unknown
+stranger's life; he gazed with witching interest upon the autograph of
+his daughter on the wall of his library. He had not confessed to his
+mistress the relation which the two strangers bore to him; yet he was
+influenced in concealing the real circumstances, only by an indefinite
+sentiment, that made him reluctant to acknowledge to her ties so
+pure. The feelings of the parent overpowered the principles of the
+philosopher. This lady indeed, although at the moment she had indulged
+in so violent an ebullition of temper, possessed little influence over
+the mind of her companion. Herbert, however fond of solitude,
+required in his restricted world the graceful results of feminine
+superintendence. Time had stilled his passions, and cooled the fervour
+of his soul. The age of his illusions had long passed. This was a
+connection that had commenced in no extravagant or romantic mood, and
+perhaps for that reason had endured. He had become acquainted with her
+on his first unknown arrival in Italy, from America, now nearly two
+years back. It had been maintained on his side by a temper naturally
+sweet, and which, exhausted by years of violent emotion, now required
+only repose; seeking, in a female friend, a form that should not
+outrage an eye ever musing on the beautiful, and a disposition that
+should contribute to his comfort, and never ruffle his feelings.
+Separated from his wife by her own act, whatever might have been its
+impulse, and for so long an interval, it was a connection which the
+world in general might have looked upon with charity, which in her
+calmer hours one would imagine even Lady Annabel might have glanced
+over without much bitterness. Certainly it was one which, under all
+the circumstances of the case, could scarcely be esteemed by her as an
+outrage or an insult; but even Herbert felt, with all his philosophy
+and proud freedom from prejudice, that the rencounter of the morning
+was one which no woman could at the moment tolerate, few eventually
+excuse, and which of all incidents was that which would most tend to
+confirm his wife in her stoical obduracy. Of his offences towards
+her, whatever were their number or their quality, this surely was the
+least, and yet its results upon his life and fortunes would in all
+probability only be equalled by the mysterious cause of their original
+separation. But how much more bitter than that original separation
+was their present parting! Mortifying and annoying as had been the
+original occurrence, it was one that many causes and considerations
+combined to enable Herbert to support. He was then in the very prime
+of youth, inexperienced, sanguine, restless, and adventurous, with the
+whole world and its unknown results before him, and freedom for which
+he ever sighed to compensate for the loss of that domestic joy that
+he was then unable to appreciate. But now twenty years, which, in the
+career of such a spirit, were equal to a century of the existence of
+coarser clay, had elapsed; he was bowed with thought and suffering, if
+not by time; his conscience was light, but it was sad; his illusions
+had all vanished; he knew the world, and all that the world could
+bring, and he disregarded them; and the result of all his profound
+study, lofty aspirations, and great conduct was, that he sighed for
+rest. The original catastrophe had been merely a separation between
+a husband and a wife; the one that had just happened, involved other
+feelings; the father was also separated from his child, and a child of
+such surpassing qualities, that his brief acquaintance with her had
+alone sufficed to convert his dream of domestic repose into a vision
+of domestic bliss.
+
+Beautiful Venetia! so fair, and yet so dutiful; with a bosom teeming
+with such exquisite sensibilities, and a mind bright with such acute
+and elevated intelligence! An abstract conception of the sentiments
+that might subsist between a father and a daughter, heightened by all
+the devices of a glowing imagination, had haunted indeed occasionally
+the solitary musing of Marmion Herbert; but what was this creation of
+his poetic brain compared with the reality that now had touched his
+human heart? Vainly had he believed that repose was the only solace
+that remained for his exhausted spirit. He found that a new passion
+now swayed his soul; a passion, too, that he had never proved; of
+a nature most peculiar; pure, gentle, refined, yet ravishing and
+irresistible, compared with which all former transports, no matter how
+violent, tumultuous, and exciting, seemed evanescent and superficial:
+they were indeed the wind, the fire, and the tempest that had gone
+before, but this was the still small voice that followed, excelled,
+and survived their might and majesty, unearthly and eternal!
+
+His heart melted to his daughter, nor did he care to live without her
+love and presence. His philosophical theories all vanished. He felt
+how dependent we are in this world on our natural ties, and how
+limited, with all his arrogance, is the sphere of man. Dreaming of
+philanthropy, he had broken his wife's heart, and bruised, perhaps
+irreparably, the spirit of his child; he had rendered those miserable
+who depended on his love, and for whose affection his heart now
+yearned to that degree, that he could not contemplate existence
+without their active sympathy.
+
+Was it then too late! Was it then impossible to regain that Paradise
+he had forfeited so weakly, and of whose amaranthine bowers, but a few
+hours since, he had caught such an entrancing glimpse, of which the
+gate for a moment seemed about to re-open! In spite of all, then,
+Annabel still loved him, loved him passionately, visited his picture,
+mused over the glowing expression of their loves, wept over the bridal
+bed so soon deserted! She had a dog, too, when Venetia was a child,
+and called it Marmion.
+
+The recollection of this little trait, so trifling, yet so touching,
+made him weep even with wildness. The tears poured down his cheeks in
+torrents, he sobbed convulsively, his very heart seemed to burst. For
+some minutes he leant over the balustrade in a paroxysm of grief.
+
+He looked up. The convent hill rose before him, bright in the moon;
+beneath was his garden; around him the humble roofs that he made
+happy. It was not without an effort that he recalled the locality,
+that he remembered he was at Arquâ. And who was sleeping within the
+house? Not his wife, Annabel was far away with their daughter. The
+vision of his whole life passed before him. Study and strife, and fame
+and love; the pride of the philosopher, the rapture of the poet,
+the blaze of eloquence, the clash of arms, the vows of passion, the
+execration and the applause of millions; both once alike welcome to
+his indomitable soul! And what had they borne to him? Misery. He
+called up the image of his wife, young, beautiful, and noble, with a
+mind capable of comprehending his loftiest and his finest moods, with
+a soul of matchless purity, and a temper whose winning tenderness had
+only been equalled by her elevated sense of self-respect; a woman that
+might have figured in the days of chivalry, soft enough to be his
+slave, but too proud to be his victim. He called up her image in
+the castle of his fathers, exercising in a domain worthy of such a
+mistress, all those sweet offices of life which here, in this hired
+roof in a strange land, and with his crippled means, he had yet found
+solacing. He conjured before him a bud by the side of that beauteous
+flower, sharing all her lustre and all her fragrance, his own Venetia!
+What happiness might not have been his? And for what had he forfeited
+it? A dream, with no dream-like beauty; a perturbed, and restless, and
+agitated dream, from which he had now woke shattered and exhausted.
+
+He had sacrificed his fortune, he had forfeited his country, he had
+alienated his wife, and he had lost his child; the home of his heroic
+ancestry, the ancient land whose fame and power they had created, the
+beauteous and gifted woman who would have clung for ever to his bosom,
+and her transcendant offspring worthy of all their loves! Profound
+philosopher!
+
+The clock of the convent struck the second hour after midnight.
+Herbert started. And all this time where were Annabel and Venetia?
+They still lived, they were in the same country, an hour ago they were
+under the same roof, in the same chamber; their hands had joined,
+their hearts had opened, for a moment he had dared to believe that all
+that he cared for might be regained. And why was it not? The cause,
+the cause? It recurred to him with associations of dislike, of
+disgust, of wrath, of hatred, of which one whose heart was so tender,
+and whose reason was so clear, could under the influence of no other
+feelings have been capable. The surrounding scene, that had so often
+soothed his mournful soul, and connected it with the last hours of
+a spirit to whom he bore much resemblance, was now looked upon with
+aversion. To rid himself of ties, now so dreadful, was all his
+ambition. He entered the house quickly, and, seating himself in his
+closet, he wrote these words:
+
+'You beheld this morning my wife and child; we can meet no more. All
+that I can effect to console you under this sudden separation shall be
+done. My banker from Bologna will be here in two days; express to him
+all your wishes.'
+
+It was written, sealed, directed, and left upon the table at which
+they had so often been seated. Herbert descended into the garden,
+saddled his horse, and in a few minutes, in the heart of night, had
+quitted Arquâ.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The moment that the wife of Marmion Herbert re-entered her saloon, she
+sent for her courier and ordered horses to her carriage instantly.
+Until they were announced as ready, Lady Annabel walked up and down
+the room with an impatient step, but was as completely silent as the
+miserable Venetia, who remained weeping on the sofa. The confusion and
+curiosity of Mistress Pauncefort were extraordinary. She still had a
+lurking suspicion that the gentleman was Lord Cadurcis and she seized
+the first opportunity of leaving the room, and flouncing into that of
+the stranger, as if by mistake, determined to catch a glimpse of him;
+but all her notable skill was baffled, for she had scarcely opened the
+door before she was met by the Italian lady, who received Mistress
+Pauncefort's ready-made apology, and bowed her away. The faithful
+attendant then hurried downstairs to crossexamine the waiter, but,
+though she gained considerable information from that functionary, it
+was of a perplexing nature; for from him she only learnt that the
+stranger lived at Arquâ. 'The German gentleman!' soliloquised Mistress
+Pauncefort; 'and what could he have to say to Miss Venetia! and a
+married man, too! Well, to be sure, there is nothing like travelling
+for adventures! And I must say, considering all that I know, and how
+I have held my tongue for nearly twenty years, I think it is very
+strange indeed of my lady to have any secrets from me. Secrets,
+indeed! Poh!' and Mistress Pauncefort flounced again into Lady
+Annabel's room, with a face of offended pride, knocking the books
+about, dashing down writing cases, tossing about work, and making as
+much noise and disturbance as if she had a separate quarrel with every
+single article under her superintendence.
+
+In the meantime the carriage was prepared, to which they were obliged
+almost to carry Venetia, feeble and stupefied with grief. Uncertain
+of her course, but anxious, in the present state of her daughter, for
+rest and quiet, Lady Annabel ordered the courier to proceed to Padua,
+at which city they arrived late at night, scarcely a word having been
+interchanged during the whole journey between Lady Annabel and her
+child, though infinite were the soft and soothing attentions which the
+mother lavished upon her. Night, however, brought no rest to Venetia;
+and the next day, her state appeared so alarming to Lady Annabel, that
+she would have instantly summoned medical assistance, had it not been
+for Venetia's strong objections. 'Indeed, dear mother,' she said,
+'it is not physicians that I require. They cannot cure me. Let me be
+quiet.'
+
+The same cause, indeed, which during the last five years had at
+intervals so seriously menaced the existence of this unhappy girl, was
+now at work with renovated and even irresistible influence. Her frame
+could no longer endure the fatal action of her over-excited nerves.
+Her first illness, however alarming, had been baffled by time, skill,
+and principally by the vigour of an extremely youthful frame, then a
+stranger to any serious indisposition. At a later period, the change
+of life induced by their residence at Weymouth had permitted her again
+to rally. She had quitted England with renewed symptoms of her former
+attack, but a still more powerful change, not only of scene, but of
+climate and country, and the regular and peaceful life she had led on
+the Lago Maggiore, had again reassured the mind of her anxious mother.
+This last adventure at Rovigo, however, prostrated her. The strange
+surprise, the violent development of feeling, the agonising doubts and
+hopes, the terrible suspense the profound and bitter and overwhelming
+disappointment, all combined to shake her mind to its very
+foundations. She felt for the first time, that she could no longer
+bear up against the torture of her singular position. Her energy was
+entirely exhausted; she was no longer capable of making the slightest
+exertion; she took refuge in that torpid resignation that results from
+utter hopelessness.
+
+Lying on her sofa with her eyes fixed in listless abstraction, the
+scene at Rovigo flitted unceasingly before her languid vision. At
+length she had seen that father, that unknown and mysterious father,
+whose idea had haunted her infancy as if by inspiration; to gain
+the slightest knowledge of whom had cost her many long and acute
+suffering; and round whose image for so many years every thought of
+her intelligence, and every feeling of her heart, had clustered like
+spirits round some dim and mystical altar, At length she had beheld
+him; she had gazed on that spiritual countenance; she had listened to
+the tender accents of that musical voice; within his arms she had been
+folded with rapture, and pressed to a heart that seemed to beat
+only for her felicity. The blessing of her father, uttered by his
+long-loved lips, had descended on her brow, and been sealed with his
+passionate embrace.
+
+The entrance of her mother, that terrible contest of her lacerated
+heart, when her two parents, as it were, appealed to her love, which
+they would not share; the inspiration of her despair, that so suddenly
+had removed the barriers of long years, before whose irresistible
+pathos her father had bent a penitent, and her mother's inexorable
+pride had melted; the ravishing bliss that for a moment had thrilled
+through her, being experienced too for the first time, when she felt
+that her parents were again united and bound by the sweet tie of her
+now happy existence; this was the drama acted before her with an
+almost ceaseless repetition of its transporting incidents; and when
+she looked round, and beheld her mother sitting alone, and watching
+her with a countenance almost of anguish, it was indeed with extreme
+difficulty that Venetia could persuade herself that all had not been a
+reverie; and she was only convinced of the contrary by that heaviness
+of the heart which too quickly assures us of the reality of those
+sorrows of which fancy for a moment may cheat us into scepticism.
+
+And indeed her mother was scarcely less miserable. The sight of
+Herbert, so changed from the form that she remembered; those tones of
+heart-rending sincerity, in which he had mournfully appealed to the
+influence of time and sorrow on his life, still greatly affected her.
+She had indulged for a moment in a dream of domestic love, she had
+cast to the winds the inexorable determination of a life, and had
+mingled her tears with those of her husband and her child. And how
+had she been repaid? By a degrading catastrophe, from whose revolting
+associations her mind recoiled with indignation and disgust. But her
+lingering feeling for her husband, her own mortification, were as
+nothing compared with the harrowing anxiety she now entertained for
+her daughter. To converse with Venetia on the recent occurrence was
+impossible. It was a subject which admitted of no discussion. They
+had passed a week at Padua, and the slightest allusion to what had
+happened had never been made by either Lady Annabel or her child. It
+was only by her lavish testimonies of affection that Lady Annabel
+conveyed to Venetia how deeply she sympathised with her, and how
+unhappy she was herself. She had, indeed, never quitted for a moment
+the side of her daughter, and witnessed each day, with renewed
+anguish, her deplorable condition; for Venetia continued in a state
+which, to those unacquainted with her, might have been mistaken for
+insensibility, but her mother knew too well that it was despair.
+She never moved, she never sighed, nor wept; she took no notice of
+anything that occurred; she sought relief in no resources. Books, and
+drawings, and music, were quite forgotten by her; nothing amused, and
+nothing annoyed her; she was not even fretful; she had, apparently,
+no physical ailment; she remained pale and silent, plunged in an
+absorbing paroxysm of overwhelming woe.
+
+The unhappy Lady Annabel, at a loss how to act, at length thought it
+might be advisable to cross over to Venice. She felt assured now, that
+it would be a long time, if ever, before her child could again endure
+the fatigue of travel; and she thought that for every reason, whether
+for domestic comfort or medical advice, or those multifarious
+considerations which interest the invalid, a capital was by far the
+most desirable residence for them. There was a time when a visit to
+the city that had given her a name had been a favourite dream of
+Venetia; she had often sighed to be within
+
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard.
+
+Those lines of her father had long echoed in her ear; but now the
+proposition called no light to her glazed eye, nor summoned for an
+instant the colour back to her cheek. She listened to her mother's
+suggestion, and expressed her willingness to do whatever she desired.
+Venice to her was now only a name; for, without the presence and the
+united love of both her parents, no spot on earth could interest, and
+no combination of circumstances affect her. To Venice, however, they
+departed, having previously taken care that every arrangement should
+be made for their reception. The English ambassador at the Ducal court
+was a relative of Lady Annabel, and therefore no means or exertions
+were spared to study and secure the convenience and accommodation of
+the invalid. The barge of the ambassador met them at Fusina; and when
+Venetia beheld the towers and cupolas of Venice, suffused with a
+golden light and rising out of the bright blue waters, for a moment
+her spirit seemed to lighten. It is indeed a spectacle as beautiful as
+rare, and one to which the world offers few, if any, rivals. Gliding
+over the great Lagune, the buildings, with which the pictures at
+Cherbury had already made her familiar, gradually rose up before her:
+the mosque-like Church of St. Marc, the tall Campanile red in the sun,
+the Moresco Palace of the Doges, the deadly Bridge of Sighs, and the
+dark structure to which it leads.
+
+Venice had not then fallen. The gorgeous standards of the sovereign
+republic, and its tributary kingdoms, still waved in the Place of St.
+Marc; the Bucentaur was not rotting in the Arsenal, and the warlike
+galleys of the state cruised without the Lagune; a busy and
+picturesque population swarmed in all directions; and the Venetian
+noble, the haughtiest of men, might still be seen proudly moving from
+the council of state, or stepping into a gondola amid a bowing crowd.
+All was stirring life, yet all was silent; the fantastic architecture,
+the glowing sky, the flitting gondolas, and the brilliant crowd
+gliding about with noiseless step, this city without sound, it seemed
+a dream!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The ambassador had engaged for Lady Annabel a palace on the Grand
+Canal, belonging to Count Manfrini. It was a structure of great size
+and magnificence, and rose out of the water with a flight of marble
+steps. Within was a vast gallery, lined with statues and busts on tall
+pedestals; suites of spacious apartments, with marble floors and
+hung with satin; ceilings painted by Tintoretto and full of Turkish
+trophies; furniture alike sumptuous and massy; the gilding, although
+of two hundred years' duration, as bright and burnished as if it
+had but yesterday been touched with the brush; sequin gold, as
+the Venetians tell you to this day with pride. But even their old
+furniture will soon not be left to them, as palaces are now daily
+broken up like old ships, and their colossal spoils consigned to
+Hanway Yard and Bond Street, whence, re-burnished and vamped up, their
+Titantic proportions in time appropriately figure in the boudoirs of
+May Fair and the miniature saloons of St. James'. Many a fine lady now
+sits in a doge's chair, and many a dandy listens to his doom from a
+couch that has already witnessed the less inexorable decrees of the
+Council of Ten.
+
+Amid all this splendour, however, one mournful idea alone pervaded the
+tortured consciousness of Lady Annabel Herbert. Daily the dark truth
+stole upon her with increased conviction, that Venetia had come hither
+only to die. There seemed to the agitated ear of this distracted
+mother a terrible omen even in the very name of her child; and she
+could not resist the persuasion that her final destiny would, in some
+degree, be connected with her fanciful appellation. The physicians,
+for hopeless as Lady Annabel could not resist esteeming their
+interference, Venetia was now surrounded with physicians, shook their
+heads, prescribed different remedies and gave contrary opinions; each
+day, however, their patient became more languid, thinner and more
+thin, until she seemed like a beautiful spirit gliding into the
+saloon, leaning on her mother's arm, and followed by Pauncefort, who
+had now learnt the fatal secret from, her mistress, and whose heart
+was indeed almost broken at the prospect of the calamity that was
+impending over them.
+
+At Padua, Lady Annabel, in her mortified reveries, outraged as she
+conceived by her husband, and anxious about her daughter, had schooled
+herself into visiting her fresh calamities on the head of the unhappy
+Herbert, to whose intrusion and irresistible influence she ascribed
+all the illness of her child; but, as the indisposition of Venetia
+gradually, but surely, increased, until at length it assumed so
+alarming an aspect that Lady Annabel, in the distraction of her mind,
+could no longer refrain from contemplating the most fatal result, she
+had taught herself bitterly to regret the failure of that approaching
+reconciliation which now she could not but believe would, at least,
+have secured her the life of Venetia. Whatever might be the risk
+of again uniting herself with her husband, whatever might be the
+mortification and misery which it might ultimately, or even speedily,
+entail upon her, there was no unhappiness that she could herself
+experience, which for one moment she could put in competition with the
+existence of her child. When that was the question, every feeling
+that had hitherto impelled her conduct assumed a totally different
+complexion. That conduct, in her view, had been a systematic sacrifice
+of self to secure the happiness of her daughter; and the result of all
+her exertions was, that not only her happiness was destroyed, but her
+life was fast vanishing away. To save Venetia, it now appeared to Lady
+Annabel that there was no extremity which she would not endure; and if
+it came to a question, whether Venetia should survive, or whether
+she should even be separated from her mother, her maternal heart now
+assured her that she would not for an instant hesitate in preferring
+an eternal separation to the death of her child. Her terror now worked
+to such a degree upon her character, that she even, at times, half
+resolved to speak to Venetia upon the subject, and contrive some
+method of communicating her wishes to her father; but pride, the
+habitual repugnance of so many years to converse upon the topic,
+mingled also, as should be confessed, with an indefinite apprehension
+of the ill consequences of a conversation of such a character on the
+nervous temperament of her daughter, restrained her.
+
+'My love!' said Lady Annabel, one day to her daughter, 'do you think
+you could go out? The physicians think it of great importance that you
+should attempt to exert yourself, however slightly.'
+
+'Dear mother, if anything could annoy me from your lips, it would
+be to hear you quote these physicians,' said Venetia. 'Their daily
+presence and inquiries irritate me. Let me be at peace. I wish to see
+no one but you.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a voice of great emotion,
+'Venetia--,' and here she paused; 'think of my anxiety.'
+
+'Dear mother, it would be ungrateful for me ever to forget that. But
+you, and you alone, know that my state, whatever it may be, and to
+whatever it may be I am reconciled, is not produced by causes over
+which these physicians have any control, over which no one has
+control--now,' added Venetia, in a tone of great mournfulness.
+
+For here we must remark that so inexperienced was Venetia in the
+feelings of others, and so completely did she judge of the strength
+and purity of their emotions from her own, that reflection, since the
+terrible adventure of Rovigo, had only convinced her that it was no
+longer in her mother's power to unite herself again with her other
+parent. She had taught herself to look upon her father's burst of
+feeling towards Lady Annabel as the momentary and inevitable result of
+a meeting so unexpected and overpowering, but she did not doubt that
+the stranger whose presence had ultimately so fatally clouded that
+interview of promise, possessed claims upon Marmion Herbert which he
+would neither break, nor, upon reflection, be desirous to question. It
+was then the conviction that a reconciliation between her parents was
+now impossible, in which her despair originated, and she pictured to
+herself her father once more at Arquâ disturbed, perhaps, for a day
+or two, as he naturally must be, by an interview so sudden and so
+harassing; shedding a tear, perhaps, in secret to the wife whom he had
+injured, and the child whom he had scarcely seen; but relapsing, alike
+from the force of habit and inclination, into those previous and
+confirmed feelings, under whose influence, she was herself a witness,
+his life had been so serene, and even so laudable. She was confirmed
+in these opinions by the circumstance of their never having heard
+since from him. Placed in his situation, if indeed an irresistible
+influence were not controlling him, would he have hesitated for a
+moment to have prevented even their departure, or to have pursued
+them; to have sought at any rate some means of communicating with
+them? He was plainly reconciled to his present position, and felt that
+under these circumstances silence on his part was alike kindest and
+most discreet. Venetia had ceased, therefore, to question the justice
+or the expediency, or even the abstract propriety, of her mother's
+conduct. She viewed their condition now as the result of stern
+necessity. She pitied her mother, and for herself she had no hope.
+
+There was then much meaning in that little monosyllable with which
+Venetia concluded her reply to her mother. She had no hope 'now.' Lady
+Annabel, however, ascribed it to a very different meaning; she only
+believed that her daughter was of opinion that nothing would induce
+her now to listen to the overtures of her father. Prepared for any
+sacrifice of self, Lady Annabel replied, 'But there is hope, Venetia;
+when your life is in question, there is nothing that should not be
+done.'
+
+'Nothing can be done,' said Venetia, who, of course, could not dream
+of what was passing in her mother's mind.
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat and walked to the window; apparently
+her eye watched only the passing gondolas, but indeed she saw them
+not; she saw only her child stretched perhaps on the couch of death.
+
+'We quitted, perhaps, Rovigo too hastily,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+choking voice, and with a face of scarlet. It was a terrible struggle,
+but the words were uttered.
+
+'No, mother,' said Venetia, to Lady Annabel's inexpressible surprise,
+'we did right to go.'
+
+'Even my child, even Venetia, with all her devotion to him, feels the
+absolute necessity of my conduct,' thought Lady Annabel. Her pride
+returned; she felt the impossibility of making an overture to Herbert;
+she looked upon their daughter as the last victim of his fatal career.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+How beautiful is night in Venice! Then music and the moon reign
+supreme; the glittering sky reflected in the waters, and every gondola
+gliding with sweet sounds! Around on every side are palaces and
+temples, rising from the waves which they shadow with their solemn
+forms, their costly fronts rich with the spoils of kingdoms, and
+softened with the magic of the midnight beam. The whole city too is
+poured forth for festival. The people lounge on the quays and cluster
+on the bridges; the light barks skim along in crowds, just touching
+the surface of the water, while their bright prows of polished iron
+gleam in the moonshine, and glitter in the rippling wave. Not a sound
+that is not graceful: the tinkle of guitars, the sighs of serenaders,
+and the responsive chorus of gondoliers. Now and then a laugh,
+light, joyous, and yet musical, bursts forth from some illuminated
+coffee-house, before which a buffo disports, a tumbler stands on his
+head, or a juggler mystifies; and all for a sequin!
+
+The Place of St. Marc, at the period of our story, still presented the
+most brilliant spectacle of the kind in Europe. Not a spot was more
+distinguished for elegance, luxury, and enjoyment. It was indeed the
+inner shrine of the temple of pleasure, and very strange and amusing
+would be the annals of its picturesque arcades. We must not, however,
+step behind their blue awnings, but content ourselves with the
+exterior scene; and certainly the Place of St. Marc, with the
+variegated splendour of its Christian mosque, the ornate architecture
+of its buildings, its diversified population, a tribute from every
+shore of the midland sea, and where the noble Venetian, in his robe
+of crimson silk, and long white peruque, might be jostled by the
+Sclavonian with his target, and the Albanian in his kilt, while the
+Turk, sitting cross-legged on his Persian carpet, smoked his long
+chibouque with serene gravity, and the mild Armenian glided by him
+with a low reverence, presented an aspect under a Venetian moon such
+as we shall not easily find again in Christendom, and, in spite of the
+dying glory and the neighbouring vice, was pervaded with an air of
+romance and refinement, compared with which the glittering dissipation
+of Paris, even in its liveliest and most graceful hours, assumes a
+character alike coarse and commonplace.
+
+It is the hour of love and of faro; now is the hour to press your suit
+and to break a bank; to glide from the apartment of rapture into the
+chamber of chance. Thus a noble Venetian contrived to pass the night,
+in alternations of excitement that in general left him sufficiently
+serious for the morrow's council. For more vulgar tastes there was the
+minstrel, the conjuror, and the story-teller, goblets of Cyprus wine,
+flasks of sherbet, and confectionery that dazzled like diamonds. And
+for every one, from the grave senator to the gay gondolier, there was
+an atmosphere in itself a spell, and which, after all, has more to do
+with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune and all the
+arts of government.
+
+Amid this gay and brilliant multitude, one human being stood alone.
+Muffled in his cloak, and leaning against a column in the portico
+of St. Marc, an expression of oppressive care and affliction was
+imprinted on his countenance, and ill accorded with the light and
+festive scene. Had he been crossed in love, or had he lost at
+play? Was it woman or gold to which his anxiety and sorrow were
+attributable, for under one or other of these categories, undoubtedly,
+all the miseries of man may range. Want of love, or want of money,
+lies at the bottom of all our griefs.
+
+The stranger came forward, and leaving the joyous throng, turned down
+the Piazzetta, and approached the quay of the Lagune. A gondolier
+saluted him, and he entered his boat.
+
+'Whither, signor?' said the gondolier.
+
+'To the Grand Canal,' he replied.
+
+Over the moonlit wave the gondola swiftly skimmed! The scene was a
+marvellous contrast to the one which the stranger had just quitted;
+but it brought no serenity to his careworn countenance, though his eye
+for a moment kindled as he looked upon the moon, that was sailing in
+the cloudless heaven with a single star by her side.
+
+They had soon entered the Grand Canal, and the gondolier looked to his
+employer for instructions. 'Row opposite to the Manfrini palace,' said
+the stranger, 'and rest upon your oar.'
+
+The blinds of the great window of the palace were withdrawn.
+Distinctly might be recognised a female figure bending over the
+recumbent form of a girl. An hour passed away and still the gondola
+was motionless, and still the silent stranger gazed on the inmates of
+the palace. A servant now came forward and closed the curtain of the
+chamber. The stranger sighed, and waving his hand to the gondolier,
+bade him return to the Lagune.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+It is curious to recall our feelings at a moment when a great event
+is impending over us, and we are utterly unconscious of its probable
+occurrence. How often does it happen that a subject which almost
+unceasingly engages our mind, is least thought of at the very instant
+that the agitating suspense involved in its consideration is perhaps
+about to be terminated for ever! The very morning after the mysterious
+gondola had rested so long before the Manfrini Palace, Venetia rose
+for the first time since the flight from Rovigo, refreshed by her
+slumbers, and tranquil in her spirit. It was not in her power
+to recall her dreams; but they had left a vague and yet serene
+impression. There seemed a lightness in her heart, that long had been
+unusual with her, and she greeted her mother with a smile, faint
+indeed, yet natural.
+
+Perhaps this beneficial change, slight but still delightful, might be
+attributed to the softness and the splendour of the morn. Before the
+approach of winter, it seemed that the sun was resolved to remind the
+Venetians that they were his children; and that, although his rays
+might be soon clouded for a season, they were not to believe that
+their parent had deserted them. The sea was like glass, a golden haze
+suffused the horizon, and a breeze, not strong enough to disturb the
+waters, was wafted at intervals from the gardens of the Brenta, fitful
+and sweet.
+
+Venetia had yielded to the suggestion of her mother, and had agreed
+for the first time to leave the palace. They stepped into their
+gondola, and were wafted to an island in the Lagune where there was
+a convent, and, what in Venice was more rare and more delightful, a
+garden. Its scanty shrubberies sparkled in the sun; and a cypress
+flanked by a pine-tree offered to the eye unused to trees a novel and
+picturesque group. Beneath its shade they rested, watching on one side
+the distant city, and on the other the still and gleaming waters of
+the Adriatic. While they were thus sitting, renovated by the soft air
+and pleasant spectacle, a holy father, with a beard like a meteor,
+appeared and addressed them.
+
+'Welcome to St. Lazaro!' said the holy father, speaking in English;
+'and may the peace that reigns within its walls fill also your
+breasts!'
+
+'Indeed, holy father,' said Lady Annabel to the Armenian monk, 'I have
+long heard of your virtues and your happy life.'
+
+'You know that Paradise was placed in our country,' said the monk with
+a smile. 'We have all lost Paradise, but the Armenian has lost his
+country too. Nevertheless, with God's blessing, on this islet we have
+found an Eden, pure at least and tranquil.'
+
+'For the pious, Paradise exists everywhere,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'You have been in England, holy father?' said Venetia.
+
+'It has not been my good fortune,' replied the monk.
+
+'Yet you speak our tongue with a facility and accent that surprise
+me.'
+
+'I learnt it in America where I long resided,' rejoined the Armenian.
+
+'This is for your eye, lady,' continued the monk, drawing a letter
+from his bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel felt not a little surprised; but the idea immediately
+occurred to her that it was some conventual memorial appealing to her
+charity. She took the paper from the monk, who immediately moved away;
+but what was the agitation of Lady Annabel when she recognised the
+handwriting of her husband! Her first thought was to save Venetia
+from sharing that agitation. She rose quickly; she commanded herself
+sufficiently to advise her daughter, in a calm tone, to remain seated,
+while for a moment she refreshed herself by a stroll. She had not
+quitted Venetia many paces, when she broke the seal and read these
+lines:
+
+'Tremble not, Annabel, when you recognise this handwriting. It is that
+of one whose only aspiration is to contribute to your happiness; and
+although the fulfilment of that fond desire may be denied him, it
+never shall be said, even by you, that any conduct of his should now
+occasion you annoyance. I am in Venice at the peril of my life, which
+I only mention because the difficulties inseparable from my position
+are the principal cause that you did not receive this communication
+immediately after our strange meeting. I have gazed at night upon your
+palace, and watched the forms of my wife and our child; but one word
+from you, and I quit Venice for ever, and it shall not be my fault if
+you are ever again disturbed by the memory of the miserable Herbert.
+
+'But before I go, I will make this one appeal if not to your justice,
+at least to your mercy. After the fatal separation of a life, we have
+once more met: you have looked upon me not with hatred; my hand has
+once more pressed yours; for a moment I indulged the impossible hope,
+that this weary and exhausted spirit might at length be blessed. With
+agony I allude to the incident that dispelled the rapture of
+this vision. Sufficient for me most solemnly to assure you that
+four-and-twenty hours had not elapsed without that feeble and
+unhallowed tie being severed for ever! It vanished instantaneously
+before the presence of my wife and my child. However you decide, it
+can never again subsist: its utter and eternal dissolution was the
+inevitable homage to your purity.
+
+'Whatever may have been my errors, whatever my crimes, for I will not
+attempt to justify to you a single circumstance of my life, I humble
+myself in the dust before you, and solicit only mercy; yet whatever
+may have been my career, ah! Annabel, in the infinite softness of your
+soul was it not for a moment pardoned? Am I indeed to suffer for that
+last lamentable intrusion? You are a woman, Annabel, with a brain as
+clear as your heart is pure. Judge me with calmness, Annabel; were
+there no circumstances in my situation to extenuate that deplorable
+connection? I will not urge them; I will not even intimate them; but
+surely, Annabel, when I kneel before you full of deep repentance and
+long remorse, if you could pardon the past, it is not that incident,
+however mortifying to you, however disgraceful to myself, that should
+be an impassable barrier to all my hopes!
+
+'Once you loved me; I ask you not to love me now. There is nothing
+about me now that can touch the heart of woman. I am old before my
+time; bent with the blended influence of action and of thought, and of
+physical and moral suffering. The play of my spirit has gone for ever.
+My passions have expired like my hopes. The remaining sands of my life
+are few. Once it was otherwise: you can recall a different picture of
+the Marmion on whom you smiled, and of whom you were the first love. O
+Annabel! grey, feeble, exhausted, penitent, let me stagger over your
+threshold, and die! I ask no more; I will not hope for your affection;
+I will not even count upon your pity; but endure my presence; let your
+roof screen my last days!'
+
+It was read; it was read again, dim as was the sight of Lady Annabel
+with fast-flowing tears. Still holding the letter, but with hands
+fallen, she gazed upon the shining waters before her in a fit of
+abstraction. It was the voice of her child that roused her.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia in a tone of some decision, 'you are troubled,
+and we have only one cause of trouble. That letter is from my father.'
+
+Lady Annabel gave her the letter in silence.
+
+Venetia withdrew almost unconsciously a few paces from her mother. She
+felt this to be the crisis of her life. There never was a moment which
+she believed required more fully the presence of all her energies.
+Before she had addressed Lady Annabel, she had endeavoured to steel
+her mind to great exertion. Yet now that she held the letter, she
+could not command herself sufficiently to read it. Her breath deserted
+her; her hand lost its power; she could not even open the lines on
+which perhaps her life depended. Suddenly, with a rapid effort, she
+glanced at the contents. The blood returned to her check; her eye
+became bright with excitement; she gasped for breath; she advanced to
+Lady Annabel. 'Ah! mother,' she exclaimed, 'you will grant all that it
+desires!'
+
+Still gazing on the wave that laved the shore of the island with an
+almost inperceptible ripple, Lady Annabel continued silent.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia, 'my beloved mother, you hesitate.' She
+approached Lady Annabel, and with one arm round her neck, she grasped
+with the other her mother's hand. 'I implore you, by all that
+affection which you lavish on me, yield to this supplication. O
+mother! dearest mother! it has been my hope that my life has been at
+least a life of duty; I have laboured to yield to all your wishes.
+I have struggled to make their fulfilment the law of my being. Yes!
+mother, your memory will assure you, that when the sweetest emotions
+of my heart were the stake, you appealed to me to sacrifice them, and
+they were dedicated to your will. Have I ever murmured? I have sought
+only to repay your love by obedience. Speak to me, dearest mother! I
+implore you speak to me! Tell me, can you ever repent relenting in
+this instance? O mother! you will not hesitate; you will not indeed;
+you will bring joy and content to our long-harassed hearth! Tell me
+so; I beseech you tell me so! I wish, oh! how I wish, that you would
+comply from the mere impulse of your own heart! But, grant that it
+is a sacrifice; grant that it may be unwise; that it may be vain; I
+supplicate you to make it! I, your child, who never deserted you, who
+will never desert you, pledging my faith to you in the face of heaven;
+for my sake, I supplicate you to make it. You do not hesitate; you
+cannot hesitate; mother, you cannot hesitate. Ah! you would not if you
+knew all; if you knew all the misery of my life, you would be glad;
+you would be cheerful; you would look upon this as an interposition of
+Providence in favour of your Venetia; you would, indeed, dear mother!'
+
+'What evil fortune guided our steps to Italy?' said Lady Annabel in a
+solemn tone, and as if in soliloquy.
+
+'No, no, mother; not evil fortune; fortune the best and brightest,'
+exclaimed her daughter, 'We came here to be happy, and happiness we
+have at length gained. It is in our grasp; I feel it. It was not
+fortune, dear mother! it was fate, it was Providence, it was God. You
+have been faithful to Him, and He has brought back to you my father,
+chastened and repentant. God has turned his heart to all your virtues.
+Will you desert him? No, no, mother, you will not, you cannot; for his
+sake, for your own sake, and for your child's, you will not!'
+
+'For twenty years I have acted from an imperious sense of duty,' said
+Lady Annabel, 'and for your sake, Venetia, as much as for my own.
+Shall the feelings of a moment--'
+
+'O mother! dearest mother! say not these words. With me, at least,
+it has not been the feeling of a moment. It haunted my infancy; it
+harassed me while a girl; it has brought me in the prime of womanhood
+to the brink of the grave. And with you, mother, has it been the
+feeling of a moment? Ah! you ever loved him, when his name was never
+breathed by those lips. You loved him when you deemed he had forgotten
+you; when you pictured him to yourself in all the pride of health and
+genius, wanton and daring; and now, now that he comes to you penitent,
+perhaps dying, more like a remorseful spirit than a breathing being,
+and humbles himself before you, and appeals only to your mercy, ah! my
+mother, you cannot reject, you could not reject him, even if you were
+alone, even if you had no child!'
+
+'My child! my child! all my hopes were in my child,' murmured Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Is she not by your side?' said Venetia.
+
+'You know not what you ask; you know not what you counsel,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'It has been the prayer and effort of my life that you should
+never know. There is a bitterness in the reconciliation which follows
+long estrangement, that yields a pang more acute even than the first
+disunion. Shall I be called upon to mourn over the wasted happiness of
+twenty years? Why did he not hate us?'
+
+'The pang is already felt, mother,' said Venetia. 'Reject my father,
+but you cannot resume the feelings of a month back. You have seen
+him; you have listened to him. He is no longer the character which
+justified your conduct, and upheld you under the trial. His image has
+entered your soul; your heart is softened. Bid him quit Venice without
+seeing you, and you will remain the most miserable of women.'
+
+'On his head, then, be the final desolation,' said Lady Annabel; 'it
+is but a part of the lot that he has yielded me.'
+
+'I am silent,' said Venetia, relaxing her grasp. 'I see that your
+child is not permitted to enter into your considerations.' She turned
+away.
+
+'Venetia!' said her mother.
+
+'Mother!' said Venetia, looking back, but not returning.
+
+'Return one moment to me.'
+
+Venetia slowly rejoined her. Lady Annabel spoke in a kind and gentle,
+though serious tone.
+
+'Venetia,' she said, 'what I am about to speak is not the impulse of
+the moment, but has been long revolved in my mind; do not, therefore,
+misapprehend it. I express without passion what I believe to be truth.
+I am persuaded that the presence of your father is necessary to
+your happiness; nay, more, to your life. I recognise the mysterious
+influence which he has ever exercised over your existence. I feel it
+impossible for me any longer to struggle against a power to which I
+bow. Be happy, then, my daughter, and live. Fly to your father, and be
+to him as matchless a child as you have been to me.' She uttered these
+last words in a choking voice.
+
+'Is this, indeed, the dictate of your calm judgment, mother?' said
+Venetia.
+
+'I call God to witness, it has of late been more than once on my lips.
+The other night, when I spoke of Rovigo, I was about to express this.'
+
+'Then, mother!' said Venetia, 'I find that I have been misunderstood.
+At least I thought my feelings towards yourself had been appreciated.
+They have not; and I can truly say, my life does not afford a single
+circumstance to which I can look back with content. Well will it
+indeed be for me to die?'
+
+'The dream of my life,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of infinite
+distress, 'was that she, at least, should never know unhappiness. It
+was indeed a dream.'
+
+There was now a silence of several minutes. Lady Annabel remained in
+exactly the same position, Venetia standing at a little distance from
+her, looking resigned and sorrowful.
+
+'Venetia,' at length said Lady Annabel, 'why are you silent?'
+
+'Mother, I have no more to say. I pretend not to act in this life; it
+is my duty to follow you.'
+
+'And your inclination?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have ceased to have a wish upon any subject,' said Venetia.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, with a great effort, 'I am miserable.'
+
+This unprecedented confession of suffering from the strong mind of her
+mother, melted Venetia to the heart. She advanced, and threw her arms
+round her mother's neck, and buried her weeping face in Lady Annabel's
+bosom.
+
+'Speak to me, my daughter,' said Lady Annabel; 'counsel me, for my
+mind trembles; anxiety has weakened it. Nay, I beseech you, speak.
+Speak, speak, Venetia. What shall I do?'
+
+'Mother, I will never say anything again but that I love you!'
+
+'I see the holy father in the distance. Let us walk to him, my child,
+and meet him.'
+
+Accordingly Lady Annabel, now leaning on Venetia, approached the monk.
+About five minutes elapsed before they reached him, during which not a
+word was spoken.
+
+'Holy father,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of firmness that surprised
+her daughter and made her tremble with anticipation, 'you know the
+writer of this letter?'
+
+'He is my friend of many years, lady,' replied the Armenian; 'I knew
+him in America. I owe to him my life, and more than my life. There
+breathes not his equal among men.'
+
+A tear started to the eye of Lady Annabel; she recalled the terms in
+which the household at Arquâ had spoken of Herbert. 'He is in Venice?'
+she inquired.
+
+'He is within these walls,' the monk replied.
+
+Venetia, scarcely able to stand, felt her mother start. After a
+momentary pause, Lady Annabel said, 'Can I speak with him, and alone?'
+
+Nothing but the most nervous apprehension of throwing any obstacle in
+the way of the interview could have sustained Venetia. Quite pale,
+with her disengaged hand clenched, not a word escaped her lips. She
+hung upon the answer of the monk.
+
+'You can see him, and alone,' said the monk. 'He is now in the
+sacristy. Follow me.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'remain in this garden. I will accompany
+this holy man. Stop! embrace me before I go, and,' she added, in a
+whisper, 'pray for me.'
+
+It needed not the admonition of her mother to induce Venetia to seek
+refuge in prayer, in this agony of her life. But for its salutary and
+stilling influence, it seemed to her that she must have forfeited all
+control over her mind. The suspense was too terrible for human aid to
+support her. Seated by the sea-side, she covered her face with her
+hands, and invoked the Supreme assistance. More than an hour passed
+away. Venetia looked up. Two beautiful birds, of strange form and
+spotless plumage, that perhaps had wandered from the Aegean, were
+hovering over her head, bright and glancing in the sun. She accepted
+their appearance as a good omen. At this moment she heard a voice,
+and, looking up, observed a monk in the distance, beckoning to her.
+She rose, and with a trembling step approached him. He retired, still
+motioning to her to follow him. She entered, by a low portal, a dark
+cloister; it led to an ante-chapel, through which, as she passed, her
+ear caught the solemn chorus of the brethren. Her step faltered; her
+sight was clouded; she was as one walking in a dream. The monk opened
+a door, and, retiring, waved his hand, as for her to enter. There was
+a spacious and lofty chamber, scantily furnished, some huge chests,
+and many sacred garments. At the extreme distance her mother was
+reclined on a bench, her head supported by a large crimson cushion,
+and her father kneeling by her mother's side. With a soundless step,
+and not venturing even to breathe, Venetia approached them, and, she
+knew not how, found herself embraced by both her parents.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+In a green valley of the Apennines, close to the sea-coast between
+Genoa and Spezzia, is a marine villa, that once belonged to the
+Malaspina family, in olden time the friends and patrons of Dante. It
+is rather a fantastic pile, painted in fresco, but spacious, in good
+repair, and convenient. Although little more than a mile from Spezzia,
+a glimpse of the blue sea can only be caught from one particular spot,
+so completely is the land locked with hills, covered with groves of
+chestnut and olive orchards. From the heights, however, you enjoy
+magnificent prospects of the most picturesque portion of the Italian
+coast; a lofty, undulating, and wooded shore, with an infinite variety
+of bays and jutting promontories; while the eye, wandering from
+Leghorn on one side towards Genoa on the other, traces an almost
+uninterrupted line of hamlets and casinos, gardens and orchards,
+terraces of vines, and groves of olive. Beyond them, the broad and
+blue expanse of the midland ocean, glittering in the meridian blaze,
+or about to receive perhaps in its glowing waters the red orb of
+sunset.
+
+It was the month of May, in Italy, at least, the merry month of May,
+and Marmion Herbert came forth from the villa Malaspina, and throwing
+himself on the turf, was soon lost in the volume of Plato which he
+bore with him. He did not move until in the course of an hour he was
+roused by the arrival of servants, who brought seats and a table,
+when, looking up, he observed Lady Annabel and Venetia in the portico
+of the villa. He rose to greet them, and gave his arm to his wife.
+
+'Spring in the Apennines, my Annabel,' said Herbert, 'is a happy
+combination. I am more in love each day with this residence. The
+situation is so sheltered, the air so soft and pure, the spot so
+tranquil, and the season so delicious, that it realises all my romance
+of retirement. As for you, I never saw you look so well; and as for
+Venetia, I can scarcely believe this rosy nymph could have been our
+pale-eyed girl, who cost us such anxiety!'
+
+'Our breakfast is not ready. Let us walk to our sea view,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Give me your book to carry, Marmion.'
+
+'There let the philosopher repose,' said Herbert, throwing the volume
+on the turf. 'Plato dreamed of what I enjoy.'
+
+'And of what did Plato dream, papa?' said Venetia.
+
+'He dreamed of love, child.'
+
+Venetia took her father's disengaged arm.
+
+They had now arrived at their sea view, a glimpse of the Mediterranean
+between two tall crags.
+
+'A sail in the offing,' said Herbert. 'How that solitary sail tells,
+Annabel!'
+
+'I feel the sea breeze, mother. Does not it remind you of Weymouth?'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! Marmion,' said Lady Annabel, 'I would that you could see Masham
+once more. He is the only friend that I regret.'
+
+'He prospers, Annabel; let that be our consolation: I have at least
+not injured him.'
+
+They turned their steps; their breakfast was now prepared. The sun had
+risen above the hill beneath whose shade they rested, and the opposite
+side of the valley sparkled in light. It was a cheerful scene. 'I have
+a passion for living in the air,' said Herbert; 'I always envied the
+shepherds in Don Quixote. One of my youthful dreams was living among
+mountains of rosemary, and drinking only goat's milk. After breakfast
+I will read you Don Quixote's description of the golden age. I have
+often read it until the tears came into my eyes.'
+
+'We must fancy ourselves in Spain,' said Lady Annabel; 'it is not
+difficult in this wild green valley; and if we have not rosemary, we
+have scents as sweet. Nature is our garden here, Venetia; and I do not
+envy even the statues and cypresses of our villa of the lake.'
+
+'We must make a pilgrimage some day to the Maggiore, Annabel,' said
+Herbert. 'It is hallowed ground to me now.'
+
+Their meal was finished, the servants brought their work, and books,
+and drawings; and Herbert, resuming his natural couch, re-opened his
+Plato, but Venetia ran into the villa, and returned with a volume.
+'You must read us the golden age, papa,' she said, as she offered him,
+with a smile, his favourite Don Quixote.
+
+'You must fancy the Don looking earnestly upon a handful of acorns,'
+said Herbert, opening the book, 'while he exclaims, "O happy age!
+which our first parents called the age of gold! not because gold, so
+much adored in this iron age, was then easily purchased, but because
+those two fatal words, _meum_ and _tuum_, were distinctions unknown to
+the people of those fortunate times; for all things were in common in
+that holy age: men, for their sustenance, needed only to lift their
+hands, and take it from the sturdy oak, whose spreading arms liberally
+invited them to gather the wholesome savoury fruit; while the clear
+springs, and silver rivulets, with luxuriant plenty, afforded them
+their pure refreshing water. In hollow trees, and in the clefts
+of rocks, the labouring and industrious bees erected their little
+commonwealths, that men might reap with pleasure and with ease the
+sweet and fertile harvest of their toils, The tough and strenuous
+cork-trees did, of themselves, and without other art than their native
+liberality, dismiss and impart their broad light bark, which served to
+cover those lowly huts, propped up with rough-hewn stakes, that were
+first built as a shelter against the inclemencies of the air. All then
+was union, all peace, all love and friendship in the world. As yet no
+rude ploughshare presumed with violence to pry into the pious bowels
+of our mother earth, for she without compulsion kindly yielded from
+every part of her fruitful and spacious bosom, whatever might at once
+satisfy, sustain, and indulge her frugal children. Then was the time
+when innocent, beautiful young sheperdesses went tripping over the
+hills and vales; their lovely hair sometimes plaited, sometimes loose
+and flowing, clad in no other vestment but what the modesty of nature
+might require. The Tyrian dye, the rich glossy hue of silk, martyred
+and dissembled into every colour, which are now esteemed so fine and
+magnificent, were unknown to the innocent simplicity of that age; yet,
+bedecked with more becoming leaves and flowers, they outshone the
+proudest of the vaindressing ladies of our times, arrayed in the most
+magnificent garbs and all the most sumptuous adornings which idleness
+and luxury have taught succeeding pride. Lovers then expressed the
+passion of their souls in the unaffected language of the heart, with
+the native plainness and sincerity in which they were conceived, and
+divested of all that artificial contexture which enervates what it
+labours to enforce. Imposture, deceit, and malice had not yet crept
+in, and imposed themselves unbribed upon mankind in the disguise of
+truth: justice, unbiassed either by favour or interest, which now so
+fatally pervert it, was equally and impartially dispensed; nor was the
+judge's fancy law, for then there were neither judges nor causes to be
+judged. The modest maid might then walk alone. But, in this degenerate
+age, fraud and a legion of ills infecting the world, no virtue can be
+safe, no honour be secure; while wanton desires, diffused into the
+hearts of men, corrupt the strictest watches and the closest retreats,
+which, though as intricate, and unknown as the labyrinth of Crete,
+are no security for chastity. Thus, that primitive innocence being
+vanished, the oppression daily prevailing, there was a necessity
+to oppose the torrent of violence; for which reason the order of
+knighthood errant was instituted, to defend the honour of virgins,
+protect widows, relieve orphans, and assist all that are distressed.
+Now I myself am one of this order, honest friends and though all
+people are obliged by the law of nature to be kind to persons of my
+character, yet since you, without knowing anything of this obligation,
+have so generously entertained me, I ought to pay you my utmost
+acknowledgment, and accordingly return you my most hearty thanks."
+
+'There,' said Herbert, as he closed the book. 'In my opinion, Don
+Quixote was the best man that ever lived.'
+
+'But he did not ever live,' said Lady Annabel, smiling.
+
+'He lives to us,' said Herbert. 'He is the same to this age as if he
+had absolutely wandered over the plains of Castile and watched in the
+Sierra Morena. We cannot, indeed, find his tomb; but he has left us
+his great example. In his hero, Cervantes has given us the picture
+of a great and benevolent philosopher, and in his Sancho, a complete
+personification of the world, selfish and cunning, and yet overawed
+by the genius that he cannot comprehend: alive to all the material
+interests of existence, yet sighing after the ideal; securing his four
+young foals of the she-ass, yet indulging in dreams of empire.'
+
+'But what do you think of the assault on the windmills, Marmion?' said
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'In the outset of his adventures, as in the outset of our lives, he
+was misled by his enthusiasm,' replied Herbert, 'without which, after
+all, we can do nothing. But the result is, Don Quixote was a redresser
+of wrongs, and therefore the world esteemed him mad.'
+
+In this vein, now conversing, now occupied with their pursuits, and
+occasionally listening to some passage which Herbert called to their
+attention, and which ever served as the occasion for some critical
+remarks, always as striking from their originality as they were happy
+in their expression, the freshness of the morning disappeared; the sun
+now crowned the valley with his meridian beam, and they re-entered the
+villa. The ladies returned to their cool saloon, and Herbert to his
+study.
+
+It was there he amused himself by composing the following lines:
+
+  SPRING IN THE APENNINES.
+
+  I.
+
+  Spring in the Apennine now holds her court
+  Within an amphitheatre of hills,
+  Clothed with the blooming chestnut; musical
+  With murmuring pines, waving their light green cones
+  Like youthful Bacchants; while the dewy grass,
+  The myrtle and the mountain violet,
+  Blend their rich odours with the fragrant trees,
+  And sweeten the soft air. Above us spreads
+  The purple sky, bright with the unseen sun
+  The hills yet screen, although the golden beam
+  Touches the topmost boughs, and tints with light
+  The grey and sparkling crags. The breath of morn
+  Still lingers in the valley; but the bee
+  With restless passion hovers on the wing,
+  Waiting the opening flower, of whose embrace
+  The sun shall be the signal. Poised in air,
+  The winged minstrel of the liquid dawn,
+  The lark, pours forth his lyric, and responds
+  To the fresh chorus of the sylvan doves,
+  The stir of branches and the fall of streams,
+  The harmonies of nature!
+
+  II
+
+    Gentle Spring!
+  Once more, oh, yes! once more I feel thy breath,
+  And charm of renovation! To the sky
+  Thou bringest light, and to the glowing earth
+  A garb of grace: but sweeter than the sky
+  That hath no cloud, and sweeter than the earth
+  With all its pageantry, the peerless boon
+  Thou bearest to me, a temper like thine own;
+  A springlike spirit, beautiful and glad!
+  Long years, long years of suffering, and of thought
+  Deeper than woe, had dimmed the eager eye
+  Once quick to catch thy brightness, and the ear
+  That lingered on thy music, the harsh world
+  Had jarred. The freshness of my life was gone,
+  And hope no more an omen in thy bloom
+  Found of a fertile future! There are minds,
+  Like lands, but with one season, and that drear
+  Mine was eternal winter!
+
+  III.
+
+    A dark dream
+  Of hearts estranged, and of an Eden lost
+  Entranced my being; one absorbing thought
+  Which, if not torture, was a dull despair
+  That agony were light to. But while sad
+  Within the desert of my life I roamed,
+  And no sweet springs of love gushed for to greet
+  My wearied heart, behold two spirits came
+  Floating in light, seraphic ministers,
+  The semblance of whose splendour on me fell
+  As on some dusky stream the matin ray,
+  Touching the gloomy waters with its life.
+  And both were fond, and one was merciful!
+  And to my home long forfeited they bore
+  My vagrant spirit, and the gentle hearth.
+  I reckless fled, received me with its shade
+  And pleasant refuge. And our softened hearts
+  Were like the twilight, when our very bliss
+  Calls tears to soothe our rapture; as the stars
+  Steal forth, then shining smiles their trembling ray
+  Mixed with our tenderness; and love was there
+  In all his manifold forms; the sweet embrace,
+  And thrilling pressure of the gentle hand,
+  And silence speaking with the melting eye!
+
+  IV.
+
+  And now again I feel thy breath, O spring!
+  And now the seal hath fallen from my gaze,
+  And thy wild music in my ready ear
+  Finds a quick echo! The discordant world
+  Mars not thy melodies; thy blossoms now
+  Are emblems of my heart; and through my veins
+  The flow of youthful feeling, long pent up,
+  Glides like thy sunny streams! In this fair scene,
+  On forms still fairer I my blessing pour;
+  On her the beautiful, the wise, the good,
+  Who learnt the sweetest lesson to forgive;
+  And on the bright-eyed daughter of our love,
+  Who soothed a mother, and a father saved!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Between the reconciliation of Lady Annabel Herbert with her husband,
+at the Armenian convent at Venice, and the spring morning in the
+Apennines, which we have just described, half a year had intervened.
+The political position of Marmion Herbert rendered it impossible for
+him to remain in any city where there was a representative of his
+Britannic Majesty. Indeed, it was scarcely safe for him to be known
+out of America. He had quitted that country shortly after the struggle
+was over, chiefly from considerations for his health. His energies had
+been fast failing him; and a retired life and change of climate had
+been recommended by his physicians. His own feelings induced him to
+visit Italy, where he had once intended to pass his life, and where he
+now repaired to await death. Assuming a feigned name, and living in
+strict seclusion, it is probable that his presence would never have
+been discovered; or, if detected, would not have been noticed. Once
+more united with his wife, her personal influence at the court of St.
+James', and her powerful connections, might secure him from annoyance;
+and Venetia had even indulged in a vague hope of returning to England.
+But Herbert could only have found himself again in his native country
+as a prisoner on parole. It would have been quite impossible for him
+to mix in the civil business of his native land, or enjoy any of the
+rights of citizenship. If a mild sovereign in his mercy had indeed
+accorded him a pardon, it must have been accompanied with rigorous and
+mortifying conditions; and his presence, in all probability, would
+have been confined to his country residence and its immediate
+neighbourhood. The pride of Lady Annabel herself recoiled from this
+sufferance; and although Herbert, keenly conscious of the sacrifice
+which a permanent estrangement from England entailed upon his wife and
+child, would have submitted to any restrictions, however humiliating,
+provided they were not inconsistent with his honour, it must be
+confessed that, when he spoke of this painful subject to his wife,
+it was with no slight self-congratulation that he had found her
+resolution to remain abroad under any circumstances was fixed with her
+habitual decision. She communicated both to the Bishop of ---- and to
+her brother the unexpected change that had occurred in her condition,
+and she had reason to believe that a representation of what had
+happened would be made to the Royal family. Perhaps both the head of
+her house and her reverend friend anticipated that time might remove
+the barrier that presented itself to Herbert's immediate return to
+England: they confined their answers, however, to congratulations on
+the reconciliation, to their confidence in the satisfaction it would
+occasion her, and to the expression of their faithful friendship; and
+neither alluded to a result which both, if only for her sake, desired.
+
+The Herberts had quitted Venice a very few days after the meeting on
+the island of St. Lazaro; had travelled by slow journeys, crossing the
+Apennines, to Genoa; and only remained in that city until they engaged
+their present residence. It combined all the advantages which they
+desired: seclusion, beauty, comfort, and the mild atmosphere that
+Venetia had seemed to require. It was not, however, the genial air
+that had recalled the rose to Venetia's cheek and the sunny smile to
+her bright eye, or had inspired again that graceful form with all its
+pristine elasticity. It was a heart content; a spirit at length at
+peace. The contemplation of the happiness of those most dear to her
+that she hourly witnessed, and the blissful consciousness that her
+exertions had mainly contributed to, if not completely occasioned,
+all this felicity, were remedies of far more efficacy than all the
+consultations and prescriptions of her physicians. The conduct of her
+father repaid her for all her sufferings, and realised all her
+dreams of domestic tenderness and delight. Tender, grateful, and
+affectionate, Herbert hovered round her mother like a delicate spirit
+who had been released by some kind mortal from a tedious and revolting
+thraldom, and who believed he could never sufficiently testify his
+devotion. There was so much respect blended with his fondness, that
+the spirit of her mother was utterly subdued by his irresistible
+demeanour. All her sadness and reserve, her distrust and her fear, had
+vanished; and rising confidence mingling with the love she had ever
+borne to him, she taught herself even to seek his opinion, and be
+guided by his advice. She could not refrain, indeed, from occasionally
+feeling, in this full enjoyment of his love, that she might have
+originally acted with too much precipitation; and that, had she only
+bent for a moment to the necessity of conciliation, and condescended
+to the excusable artifices of affection, their misery might have been
+prevented. Once when they were alone, her softened heart would have
+confessed to Herbert this painful conviction, but he was too happy
+and too generous to permit her for a moment to indulge in such a
+remorseful retrospect. All the error, he insisted, was his own; and he
+had been fool enough to have wantonly forfeited a happiness which time
+and experience had now taught him to appreciate.
+
+'We married too young, Marmion,' said his wife.
+
+'It shall be that then, love,' replied Herbert; 'but for all that I
+have suffered. I would not have avoided my fate on the condition of
+losing the exquisite present!'
+
+It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark, that Herbert avoided with
+the most scrupulous vigilance the slightest allusion to any of those
+peculiar opinions for which he was, unhappily, too celebrated. Musing
+over the singular revolutions which had already occurred in his habits
+and his feelings towards herself, Lady Annabel, indeed, did not
+despair that his once self-sufficient soul might ultimately bow
+to that blessed faith which to herself had ever proved so great a
+support, and so exquisite a solace. It was, indeed, the inexpressible
+hope that lingered at the bottom of her heart; and sometimes she even
+indulged in the delightful fancy that his mild and penitent spirit
+had, by the gracious mercy of Providence, been already touched by the
+bright sunbeam of conviction. At all events, his subdued and chastened
+temperament was no unworthy preparation for still greater blessings.
+It was this hallowed anticipation which consoled, and alone consoled,
+Lady Annabel for her own estrangement from the communion of her
+national church. Of all the sacrifices which her devotion to Herbert
+entailed upon her, this was the one which she felt most constantly
+and most severely. Not a day elapsed but the chapel at Cherbury rose
+before her; and when she remembered that neither herself nor her
+daughter might again kneel round the altar of their God, she almost
+trembled at the step which she had taken, and almost esteemed it
+a sacrifice of heavenly to earthly duty, which no consideration,
+perhaps, warranted. This apprehension, indeed, was the cloud in
+her life, and one which Venetia, who felt all its validity, found
+difficulty in combating.
+
+Otherwise, when Venetia beheld her parents, she felt ethereal,
+and seemed to move in air; for her life, in spite of its apparent
+tranquillity, was to her all excitement. She never looked upon her
+father, or heard his voice, without a thrill. His society was as
+delightful as his heart was tender. It seemed to her that she could
+listen to him for ever. Every word he spoke was different from
+the language of other men; there was not a subject on which his
+richly-cultivated mind could not pour forth instantaneously a flood of
+fine fancies and deep intelligence. He seemed to have read every book
+in every language, and to have mused over every line he had read. She
+could not conceive how one, the tone of whose mind was so original
+that it suggested on every topic some conclusion that struck instantly
+by its racy novelty, could be so saturated with the learning and the
+views of other men. Although they lived in unbroken solitude, and were
+almost always together, not a day passed that she did not find herself
+musing over some thought or expression of her father, and which broke
+from his mind without effort, and as if by chance. Literature to
+Herbert was now only a source of amusement and engaging occupation.
+All thought of fame had long fled his soul. He cared not for being
+disturbed; and he would throw down his Plato for Don Quixote, or close
+his Aeschylus and take up a volume of Madame de Sévigné without a
+murmur, if reminded by anything that occurred of a passage which might
+contribute to the amusement and instruction of his wife and daughter.
+Indeed, his only study now was to contribute to their happiness. For
+him they had given up their country and society, and he sought, by his
+vigilant attention and his various accomplishments, to render their
+hours as light and pleasant as, under such circumstances, was
+possible. His muse, too, was only dedicated to the celebration of any
+topic which their life or themselves suggested. He loved to lie under
+the trees, and pour forth sonnets to Lady Annabel; and encouraged
+Venetia, by the readiness and interest with which he invariably
+complied with her intimations, to throw out every fancy which occurred
+to her for his verse. A life passed without the intrusion of a single
+evil passion, without a single expression that was not soft, and
+graceful, and mild, and adorned with all the resources of a most
+accomplished and creative spirit, required not the distractions
+of society. It would have shrunk from it, from all its artificial
+excitement and vapid reaction. The days of the Herberts flowed on in
+one bright, continuous stream of love, and literature, and gentle
+pleasures. Beneath them was the green earth, above them the blue sky.
+Their spirits were as clear, and their hearts as soft as the clime.
+
+The hour of twilight was approaching, and the family were preparing
+for their daily walk. Their simple repast was finished, and Venetia
+held the verses which her father had written in the morning, and which
+he had presented to her.
+
+'Let us descend to Spezzia,' said Herbert to Lady Annabel; 'I love an
+ocean sunset.'
+
+Accordingly they proceeded through their valley to the craggy path
+which led down to the bay. After passing through a small ravine, the
+magnificent prospect opened before them. The sun was yet an hour above
+the horizon, and the sea was like a lake of molten gold; the colour
+of the sky nearest to the sun, of a pale green, with two or three
+burnished streaks of vapour, quite still, and so thin you could almost
+catch the sky through them, fixed, as it were, in this gorgeous frame.
+It was now a dead calm, but the sail that had been hovering the whole
+morning in the offing had made the harbour in time, and had just
+cast anchor near some coasting craft and fishing-boats, all that now
+remained where Napoleon had projected forming one of the arsenals of
+the world.
+
+Tracing their way down a mild declivity, covered with spreading
+vineyards, and quite fragrant with the blossom of the vine, the
+Herberts proceeded through a wood of olives, and emerged on a terrace
+raised directly above the shore, leading to Spezzia, and studded here
+and there with rugged groups of aloes.
+
+'I have often observed here,' said Venetia, 'about a mile out at sea;
+there, now, where I point; the water rise. It is now a calm, and yet
+it is more troubled, I think, than usual. Tell me the cause, dear
+father, for I have often wished to know.'
+
+'It passes my experience,' said Herbert; 'but here is an ancient
+fisherman; let us inquire of him.'
+
+He was an old man, leaning against a rock, and smoking his pipe in
+contemplative silence; his face bronzed with the sun and the roughness
+of many seasons, and his grey hairs not hidden by his long blue cap.
+Herbert saluted him, and, pointing to the phenomenon, requested an
+explanation of it.
+
+''Tis a fountain of fresh water, signor, that rises in our gulf,' said
+the old fisherman, 'to the height of twenty feet.'
+
+'And is it constant?' inquired Herbert.
+
+''Tis the same in sunshine and in storm, in summer and in winter, in
+calm or in breeze,' said the old fisherman.
+
+'And has it always been so?'
+
+'It came before my time.'
+
+'A philosophic answer,' said Herbert, 'and deserves a paul. Mine was a
+crude question. Adio, good friend.'
+
+'I should like to drink of that fountain of fresh water, Annabel,'
+said Herbert. 'There seems to me something wondrous fanciful in it.
+Some day we will row there. It shall be a calm like this.'
+
+'We want a fountain in our valley,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'We do,' said Herbert; 'and I think we must make one; we must inquire
+at Genoa. I am curious in fountains. Our fountain should, I think, be
+classical; simple, compact, with a choice inscription, the altar of a
+Naiad.'
+
+'And mamma shall make the design, and you shall write the
+inscription,' said Venetia.
+
+'And you shall be the nymph, child,' said Herbert.
+
+They were now within a bowshot of the harbour, and a jutting cliff of
+marble, more graceful from a contiguous bed of myrtles, invited them
+to rest, and watch the approaching sunset.
+
+'Say what they like,' said Herbert, 'there is a spell in the shores
+of the Mediterranean Sea which no others can rival. Never was such a
+union of natural loveliness and magical associations! On these shores
+have risen all that interests us in the past: Egypt and Palestine,
+Greece, Rome, and Carthage, Moorish Spain, and feodal Italy. These
+shores have yielded us our religion, our arts, our literature, and our
+laws. If all that we have gained from the shores of the Mediterranean
+was erased from the memory of man, we should be savages. Will the
+Atlantic ever be so memorable? Its civilisation will be more rapid,
+but will it be as refined? and, far more important, will it be as
+permanent? Will it not lack the racy vigour and the subtle spirit of
+aboriginal genius? Will not a colonial character cling to its society,
+feeble, inanimate, evanescent? What America is deficient in is
+creative intellect. It has no nationality. Its intelligence has been
+imported, like its manufactured goods. Its inhabitants are a people,
+but are they a nation? I wish that the empire of the Incas and the
+kingdom of Montezuma had not been sacrificed. I wish that the republic
+of the Puritans had blended with the tribes of the wilderness.'
+
+The red sun was now hovering over the horizon; it quivered for an
+instant, and then sank. Immediately the high and undulating coast was
+covered with a crimson flush; the cliffs, the groves, the bays and
+jutting promontories, each straggling sail and tall white tower,
+suffused with a rosy light. Gradually that rosy tint became a bright
+violet, and then faded into purple. But the glory of the sunset long
+lingered in the glowing west, streaming with every colour of the Iris,
+while a solitary star glittered with silver light amid the shifting
+splendour.
+
+'Hesperus rises from the sunset like the fountain of fresh water from
+the sea,' said Herbert. 'The sky and the ocean have two natures, like
+ourselves,'
+
+At this moment the boat of the vessel, which had anchored about an
+hour back, put to shore.
+
+'That seems an English brig,' said Herbert. 'I cannot exactly make out
+its trim; it scarcely seems a merchant vessel.'
+
+The projection of the shore hid the boat from their sight as it
+landed. The Herberts rose, and proceeded towards the harbour. There
+were some rude steps cut in the rock which led from the immediate
+shore to the terrace. As they approached these, two gentlemen
+in sailors' jackets mounted suddenly. Lady Annabel and Venetia
+simultaneously started as they recognised Lord Cadurcis and his
+cousin. They were so close that neither party had time to prepare
+themselves. Venetia found her hand in that of Plantagenet, while Lady
+Annabel saluted George. Infinite were their mutual inquiries and
+congratulations, but it so happened that, with one exception, no name
+was mentioned. It was quite evident, however, to Herbert, that these
+were very familiar acquaintances of his family; for, in the surprise
+of the moment, Lord Cadurcis had saluted his daughter by her Christian
+name. There was no slight emotion, too, displayed on all sides.
+Indeed, independently of the agitation which so unexpected a
+rencounter was calculated to produce, the presence of Herbert, after
+the first moments of recognition, not a little excited the curiosity
+of the young men, and in some degree occasioned the embarrassment
+of all. Who was this stranger, on whom Venetia and her mother were
+leaning with such fondness? He was scarcely too old to be the admirer
+of Venetia, and if there were a greater disparity of years between
+them than is usual, his distinguished appearance might well reconcile
+the lady to her lot, or even justify her choice. Had, then, Cadurcis
+again met Venetia only to find her the bride or the betrothed of
+another? a mortifying situation, even an intolerable one, if his
+feelings remained unchanged; and if the eventful year that had elapsed
+since they parted had not replaced her image in his susceptible mind
+by another more cherished, and, perhaps, less obdurate. Again, to Lady
+Annabel the moment was one of great awkwardness, for the introduction
+of her husband to those with whom she was recently so intimate, and
+who were then aware that the name of that husband was never even
+mentioned in her presence, recalled the painful past with a disturbing
+vividness. Venetia, indeed, did not share these feelings fully,
+but she thought it ungracious to anticipate her mother in the
+announcement.
+
+The Herberts turned with Lord Cadurcis and his cousin; they were about
+to retrace their steps on the terrace, when Lady Annabel, taking
+advantage of the momentary silence, and summoning all her energy, with
+a pale cheek and a voice that slightly faltered, said, 'Lord Cadurcis,
+allow me to present you to Mr. Herbert, my husband,' she added with
+emphasis.
+
+'Good God!' exclaimed Cadurcis, starting; and then, outstretching his
+hand, he contrived to add, 'have I, indeed, the pleasure of seeing one
+I have so long admired?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Herbert, scarcely less surprised. 'Is it
+Lord Cadurcis? This is a welcome meeting.'
+
+Everyone present felt overwhelmed with confusion or astonishment; Lady
+Annabel sought refuge in presenting Captain Cadurcis to her husband.
+This ceremony, though little noticed even by those more immediately
+interested in it, nevertheless served, in some degree, as a diversion.
+Herbert, who was only astonished, was the first who rallied. Perhaps
+Lord Cadurcis was the only man in existence whom Herbert wished to
+know. He had read his works with deep interest; at least, those
+portions which foreign journals had afforded him. He was deeply
+impressed with his fame and genius; but what perplexed him at this
+moment, even more than his unexpected introduction to him, was the
+singular, the very extraordinary circumstance, that the name of their
+most celebrated countryman should never have escaped the lips either
+of his wife or his daughter, although they appeared, and Venetia
+especially, to be on terms with him of even domestic intimacy.
+
+'You arrived here to day, Lord Cadurcis?' said Herbert. 'From whence?'
+
+'Immediately from Naples, where we last touched,' replied his
+lordship; 'but I have been residing at Athens.'
+
+'I envy you,' said Herbert.
+
+'It would be a fit residence for you,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'You were,
+however, in some degree, my companion, for a volume of your poems was
+one of the few books I had with me. I parted with all the rest, but I
+retained that. It is in my cabin, and full of my scribblement. If you
+would condescend to accept it, I would offer it to you.'
+
+Mr. Herbert and Lord Cadurcis maintained the conversation along the
+terrace. Venetia, by whose side her old companion walked, was quite
+silent. Once her eyes met those of Cadurcis; his expression of mingled
+archness and astonishment was irresistible. His cousin and Lady
+Annabel carried on a more suppressed conversation, but on ordinary
+topics. When they had reached the olive-grove Herbert said, 'Here lies
+our way homeward, my lord. If you and your cousin will accompany us,
+it will delight Lady Annabel and myself.'
+
+'Nothing, I am sure, will give George and myself greater pleasure,' he
+replied. 'We had, indeed, no purpose when you met us but to enjoy our
+escape from imprisonment, little dreaming we should meet our kindest
+and oldest friends,' he added.
+
+'Kindest and oldest friends!' thought Herbert to himself. 'Well, this
+is strange indeed.'
+
+'It is but a slight distance,' said Lady Annabel, who thought it
+necessary to enforce the invitation. 'We live in the valley, of which
+yonder hill forms a part.'
+
+'And there we have passed our winter and our spring,' added Venetia,
+'almost as delightfully as you could have done at Athens.'
+
+'Well,' thought Cadurcis to himself, 'I have seen many of the world's
+marvels, but this day is a miracle.'
+
+When they had proceeded through the olive-wood, and mounted the
+acclivity, they arrived at a path which permitted the ascent of only
+one person at a time. Cadurcis was last, and followed Venetia. Unable
+any longer to endure the suspense, he was rather irritated that she
+kept so close to her father; he himself loitered a few paces behind,
+and, breaking off a branch of laurel, he tossed it at her. She looked
+round and smiled; he beckoned to her to fall back. 'Tell me, Venetia,'
+he said, 'what does all this mean?'
+
+'It means that we are at last all very happy,' she replied. 'Do you
+not see my father?'
+
+'Yes; and I am very glad to see him; but this company is the very last
+in which I expected to have that pleasure.'
+
+'It is too long a story to tell now; you must imagine it.'
+
+'But are you glad to see me?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'I don't think you care for me the least.'
+
+'Silly Lord Cadurcis!' she said, smiling.
+
+'If you call me Lord Cadurcis, I shall immediately go back to the
+brig, and set sail this night for Athens.'
+
+'Well then, silly Plantagenet!'
+
+He laughed, and they ran on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, I am not surprised that you should have passed your time
+delightfully here,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady Annabel, when they had
+entered the villa; 'for I never beheld so delightful a retreat. It is
+even more exquisite than your villa on the lake, of which George gave
+me so glowing a description. I was almost tempted to hasten to you.
+Would you have smiled on me!' he added, rather archly, and in a
+coaxing tone.
+
+'I am more gratified that we have met here,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And thus,' added Cadurcis.
+
+'You have been a great traveller since we last met?' said Lady
+Annabel, a little embarrassed.
+
+'My days of restlessness are over,' said Cadurcis. 'I desire nothing
+more dearly than to settle down in the bosom of these green hills as
+you have done.'
+
+'This life suits Mr. Herbert,' said Lady Annabel. 'He is fond of
+seclusion, and you know I am accustomed to it.'
+
+'Ah! yes,' said Cadurcis, mournfully. 'When I was in Greece, I used
+often to wish that none of us had ever left dear Cherbury; but I do
+not now.'
+
+'We must forget Cherbury,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I cannot: I cannot forget her who cherished my melancholy childhood.
+Dear Lady Annabel,' he added in a voice of emotion, and offering her
+his hand, 'forget all my follies, and remember that I was your child,
+once as dutiful as you were affectionate.'
+
+Who could resist this appeal? Lady Annabel, not without agitation,
+yielded him her hand, which he pressed to his lips. 'Now I am again
+happy,' said Cadurcis; 'now we are all happy. Sweetest of friends, you
+have removed in a moment the bitterness of years.'
+
+Although lights were in the saloon, the windows opening on the portico
+were not closed. The evening air was soft and balmy, and though the
+moon had not risen, the distant hills were clear in the starlight.
+Venetia was standing in the portico conversing with George Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose you are too much of a Turk to drink our coffee, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. Cadurcis turned and joined him, together with
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'Nay,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a joyous tone, 'Lady Annabel will answer
+for me that I always find everything perfect under her roof.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis and Venetia now re-entered the villa; they clustered
+round the table, and seated themselves.
+
+'Why, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, 'George met me in Sicily and quite
+frightened me about you. Is it the air of the Apennines that has
+worked these marvels? for, really, you appear to me exactly the same
+as when we learnt the French vocabulary together ten years ago.'
+
+'"The French vocabulary together, ten years ago!"' thought Herbert;
+'not a mere London acquaintance, then. This is very strange.'
+
+'Why, indeed, Plantagenet,' replied Venetia, 'I was very unwell when
+George visited us; but I really have quite forgotten that I ever was
+an invalid, and I never mean to be again.'
+
+'"Plantagenet!"' soliloquised Herbert. 'And this is the great poet
+of whom I have heard so much! My daughter is tolerably familiar with
+him.'
+
+'I have brought you all sorts of buffooneries from Stamboul,'
+continued Cadurcis; 'sweetmeats, and slippers, and shawls, and daggers
+worn only by sultanas, and with which, if necessary, they can keep
+"the harem's lord" in order. I meant to have sent them with George to
+England, for really I did not anticipate our meeting here.'
+
+'"Sweetmeats and slippers,"' said Herbert to himself, '"shawls and
+daggers!" What next?'
+
+'And has George been with you all the time?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Oh! we quarrelled now and then, of course. He found Athens dull, and
+would stay at Constantinople, chained by the charms of a fair Perote,
+to whom he wanted me to write sonnets in his name. I would not,
+because I thought it immoral. But, on the whole, we got on very well;
+a sort of Pylades and Orestes, I assure you; we never absolutely
+fought.'
+
+'Come, come,' said George, 'Cadurcis is always ashamed of being
+amiable. We were together much more than I ever intended or
+anticipated. You know mine was a sporting tour; and therefore, of
+course, we were sometimes separated. But he was exceedingly popular
+with all parties, especially the Turks, whom he rewarded for their
+courtesy by writing odes to the Greeks to stir them up to revolt.'
+
+'Well, they never read them,' said Cadurcis. 'All we, poor fellows,
+can do,' he added, turning to Herbert, 'is to wake the Hellenistic
+raptures of May Fair; and that they call fame; as much like fame as a
+toadstool is like a truffle.'
+
+'Nevertheless, I hope the muse has not slumbered,' said Herbert; 'for
+you have had the happiest inspiration in the climes in which you have
+resided; not only are they essentially poetic, but they offer a virgin
+vein.'
+
+'I have written a little,' replied Cadurcis; 'I will give it you, if
+you like, some day to turn over. Yours is the only opinion that I
+really care for. I have no great idea of the poetry; but I am very
+strong in my costume. I feel very confident about that. I fancy I know
+how to hit off a pasha, or touch in a Greek pirate now. As for all the
+things I wrote in England, I really am ashamed of them. I got up my
+orientalism from books, and sultans and sultanas at masquerades,' he
+added, archly. 'I remember I made my heroines always wear turbans;
+only conceive my horror when I found that a Turkish woman would as
+soon think of putting my hat on as a turban, and that it was an
+article of dress entirely confined to a Bond Street milliner.'
+
+The evening passed in interesting and diverting conversation; of
+course, principally contributed by the two travellers, who had seen so
+much. Inspirited by his interview with Lady Annabel, and her gracious
+reception of his overtures, Lord Cadurcis was in one of those frolic
+humours, which we have before noticed was not unnatural to him. He had
+considerable powers of mimicry, and the talent that had pictured to
+Venetia in old days, with such liveliness, the habits of the old maids
+of Morpeth, was now engaged on more considerable topics; an interview
+with a pasha, a peep into a harem, a visit to a pirate's isle, the
+slave-market, the bazaar, the barracks of the janissaries, all touched
+with irresistible vitality, and coloured with the rich phrases of
+unrivalled force of expression. The laughter was loud and continual;
+even Lady Annabel joined zealously in the glee. As for Herbert, he
+thought Cadurcis by far the most hearty and amusing person he had ever
+known, and could not refrain from contrasting him with the picture
+which his works and the report of the world had occasionally enabled
+him to sketch to his mind's eye; the noble, young, and impassioned
+bard, pouring forth the eloquent tide of his morbid feelings to an
+idolising world, from whose applause he nevertheless turned with an
+almost misanthropic melancholy.
+
+It was now much past the noon of night, and the hour of separation,
+long postponed, was inevitable. Often had Cadurcis risen to depart,
+and often, without regaining his seat, had he been tempted by his
+friends, and especially Venetia, into fresh narratives. At last he
+said, 'Now we must go. Lady Annabel looks good night. I remember the
+look,' he said, laughing, 'when we used to beg for a quarter of an
+hour more. O Venetia! do not you remember that Christmas when dear
+old Masham read Julius Caesar, and we were to sit up until it was
+finished. When he got to the last act I hid his spectacles. I never
+confessed it until this moment. Will you pardon me, Lady Annabel?' and
+he pressed his hands together in a mockery of supplication.
+
+'Will you come and breakfast with us to-morrow?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'With delight,' he answered. 'I am used, you know, to walks before
+breakfast. George, I do not think George can do it, though. George
+likes his comforts; he is a regular John Bull. He was always calling
+for tea when we were in Turkey!'
+
+At this moment Mistress Pauncefort entered the room, ostensibly on
+some little affair of her mistress, but really to reconnoitre.
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort; my old friend, Mistress Pauncefort, how do
+you do?' exclaimed his lordship.
+
+'Quite well, my lord, please your lordship; and very glad to see your
+lordship again, and looking so well too.'
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort, you always flattered me!'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord, your lordship, no,' said Mistress Pauncefort, with
+a simper.
+
+'But you, Pauncefort,' said Cadurcis, 'why there must be some magic in
+the air here. I have been complimenting your lady and Miss Venetia;
+but really, you, I should almost have thought it was some younger
+sister.'
+
+'Oh! my lord, you have such a way,' said Mistress Pauncefort,
+retreating with a slow step that still lingered for a remark.
+
+'Pauncefort, is that an Italian cap?' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you know,
+Pauncefort, you were always famous for your caps.'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort disappeared in a fluster of delight.
+
+And now they had indeed departed. There was a pause of complete
+silence after they had disappeared, the slight and not painful
+reaction after the mirthful excitement of the last few hours. At
+length Herbert, dropping, as was his evening custom, a few drops of
+orange-flower into a tumbler of water, said, 'Annabel, my love, I am
+rather surprised that neither you nor Venetia should have mentioned to
+me that you knew, and knew so intimately, a man like Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+Lady Annabel appeared a little confused; she looked even at Venetia,
+but Venetia's eyes were on the ground. At length she said, 'In truth,
+Marmion, since we met we have thought only of you.'
+
+'Cadurcis Abbey, papa, is close to Cherbury,' said Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' said Herbert, with a faint blush. 'I have never seen it,
+and now I shall never see it. No matter, my country is your mother and
+yourself. Some find a home in their country, I find a country in my
+home. Well,' he added, in a gayer tone, 'it has gratified me much to
+meet Lord Cadurcis. We were happy before, but now we are even gay.
+I like to see you smile, Annabel, and hear Venetia laugh. I feel,
+myself, quite an unusual hilarity. Cadurcis! It is very strange how
+often I have mused over that name. A year ago it was one of my few
+wishes to know him; my wishes, then, dear Annabel, were not very
+ambitious. They did not mount so high as you have since permitted
+them. And now I do know him, and under what circumstances! Is not life
+strange? But is it not happy? I feel it so. Good night, sweet wife;
+my darling daughter, a happy, happy night!' He embraced them ere
+they retired; and opening a volume composed his mind after the novel
+excitement of the evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis left the brig early in the morning alone, and strolled
+towards the villa. He met Herbert half-way to Spezzia, who turned back
+with him towards home. They sat down on a crag opposite the sea; there
+was a light breeze, the fishing boats wore out, and the view was as
+animated as the fresh air was cheering.
+
+'There they go,' said Cadurcis, smiling, 'catching John Dory, as you
+and I try to catch John Bull. Now if these people could understand
+what two great men were watching them, how they would stare! But they
+don't care a sprat for us, not they! They are not part of the world
+the three or four thousand civilised savages for whom we sweat our
+brains, and whose fetid breath perfumed with musk is fame. Pah!'
+
+Herbert smiled. 'I have not cared much myself for this same world.'
+
+'Why, no; you have done something, and shown your contempt for them.
+No one can deny that. I will some day, if I have an opportunity. I owe
+it them; I think I can show them a trick or two still.[A] I have got a
+Damascus blade in store for their thick hides. I will turn their flank
+yet.'
+
+[Footnote A: I think I know a trick or two would turn Your flanks.
+_Don Juan_.]
+
+'And gain a victory where conquest brings no glory. You are worth
+brighter laurels, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Now is not it the most wonderful thing in the world that you and I
+have met?' said Cadurcis. 'Now I look upon ourselves as something
+like, eh! Fellows with some pith in them. By Jove, if we only joined
+together, how we could lay it on! Crack, crack, crack; I think I see
+them wincing under the thong, the pompous poltroons! If you only knew
+how they behaved to me! By Jove, sir, they hooted me going to the
+House of Lords, and nearly pulled me off my horse. The ruffians would
+have massacred me if they could; and then they all ran away from a
+drummer-boy and a couple of grenadiers, who were going the rounds to
+change guard. Was not that good? Fine, eh? A brutish mob in a fit of
+morality about to immolate a gentleman, and then scampering off from a
+sentry. I call that human nature!'
+
+'As long as they leave us alone, and do not burn us alive, I am
+content,' said Herbert. 'I am callous to what they say.'
+
+'So am I,' said Cadurcis. 'I made out a list the other day of all
+the persons and things I have been compared to. It begins well, with
+Alcibiades, but it ends with the Swiss giantess or the Polish dwarf, I
+forget which. Here is your book. You see it has been well thumbed. In
+fact, to tell the truth, it was my cribbing book, and I always kept
+it by me when I was writing at Athens, like a gradus, a _gradus ad
+Parnassum_, you know. But although I crib, I am candid, and you see I
+fairly own it to you.'
+
+'You are welcome to all I have ever written,' said Herbert. 'Mine were
+but crude dreams. I wished to see man noble and happy; but if he will
+persist in being vile and miserable, I must even be content. I can
+struggle for him no more.'
+
+'Well, you opened my mind,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe you everything;
+but I quite agree with you that nothing is worth an effort. As for
+philosophy and freedom, and all that, they tell devilish well in a
+stanza; but men have always been fools and slaves, and fools and
+slaves they always will be.'
+
+'Nay,' said Herbert, 'I will not believe that. I will not give up
+a jot of my conviction of a great and glorious future for human
+destinies; but its consummation will not be so rapid as I once
+thought, and in the meantime I die.'
+
+'Ah, death!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that is a botherer. What can you
+make of death? There are those poor fishermen now; there will be a
+white squall some day, and they will go down with those lateen sails
+of theirs, and be food for the very prey they were going to catch; and
+if you continue living here, you may eat one of your neighbours in
+the shape of a shoal of red mullets, when it is the season. The great
+secret, we cannot penetrate that with all our philosophy, my dear
+Herbert. "All that we know is, nothing can be known." Barren, barren,
+barren! And yet what a grand world it is! Look at this bay, these blue
+waters, the mountains, and these chestnuts, devilish fine! The fact
+is, truth is veiled, but, like the Shekinah over the tabernacle, the
+veil is of dazzling light!'
+
+'Life is the great wonder,' said Herbert, 'into which all that is
+strange and startling resolves itself. The mist of familiarity
+obscures from us the miracle of our being. Mankind are constantly
+starting at events which they consider extraordinary. But a
+philosopher acknowledges only one miracle, and that is life. Political
+revolutions, changes of empire, wrecks of dynasties and the opinions
+that support them, these are the marvels of the vulgar, but these are
+only transient modifications of life. The origin of existence is,
+therefore, the first object which a true philosopher proposes to
+himself. Unable to discover it, he accepts certain results from
+his unbiassed observation of its obvious nature, and on them he
+establishes certain principles to be our guides in all social
+relations, whether they take the shape of laws or customs.
+Nevertheless, until the principle of life be discovered, all theories
+and all systems of conduct founded on theory must be considered
+provisional.'
+
+'And do you believe that there is a chance of its being discovered?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'I cannot, from any reason in my own intelligence, find why it should
+not,' said Herbert.
+
+'You conceive it possible that a man may attain earthly immortality?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'Undoubtedly.'
+
+'By Jove,' said Cadurcis, 'if I only knew how, I would purchase an
+immense annuity directly.'
+
+'When I said undoubtedly,' said Herbert, smiling, 'I meant only to
+express that I know no invincible reason to the contrary. I see
+nothing inconsistent with the existence of a Supreme Creator in the
+annihilation of death. It appears to me an achievement worthy of his
+omnipotence. I believe in the possibility, but I believe in nothing
+more. I anticipate the final result, but not by individual means. It
+will, of course, be produced by some vast and silent and continuous
+operation of nature, gradually effecting some profound and
+comprehensive alteration in her order, a change of climate, for
+instance, the great enemy of life, so that the inhabitants of the
+earth may attain a patriarchal age. This renovated breed may in turn
+produce a still more vigorous offspring, and so we may ascend the
+scale, from the threescore and ten of the Psalmist to the immortality
+of which we speak. Indeed I, for my own part, believe the operation
+has already commenced, although thousands of centuries may elapse
+before it is consummated; the threescore and ten of the Psalmist is
+already obsolete; the whole world is talking of the general change of
+its seasons and its atmosphere. If the origin of America were such as
+many profound philosophers suppose, viz., a sudden emersion of a new
+continent from the waves, it is impossible to doubt that such an event
+must have had a very great influence on the climate of the world.
+Besides, why should we be surprised that the nature of man should
+change? Does not everything change? Is not change the law of nature?
+My skin changes every year, my hair never belongs to me a month, the
+nail on my hand is only a passing possession. I doubt whether a man at
+fifty is the same material being that he is at five-and-twenty.'
+
+'I wonder,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'if a creditor brought an action
+against you at fifty for goods delivered at five-and-twenty, one
+could set up the want of identity as a plea in bar. It would be a
+consolation to an elderly gentleman.'
+
+'I am afraid mankind are too hostile to philosophy,' said Herbert,
+smiling, 'to permit so desirable a consummation.'
+
+'Should you consider a long life a blessing?' said Cadurcis. 'Would
+you like, for instance, to live to the age of Methusalem?'
+
+'Those whom the gods love die young,' said Herbert. 'For the last
+twenty years I have wished to die, and I have sought death. But my
+feelings, I confess, on that head are at present very much modified.'
+
+'Youth, glittering youth!' said Cadurcis in a musing tone; 'I remember
+when the prospect of losing my youth frightened me out of my wits;
+I dreamt of nothing but grey hairs, a paunch, and the gout or the
+gravel. But I fancy every period of life has its pleasures, and as we
+advance in life the exercise of power and the possession of wealth
+must be great consolations to the majority; we bully our children and
+hoard our cash.'
+
+'Two most noble occupations!' said Herbert; 'but I think in this world
+there is just as good a chance of being bullied by our children first,
+and paying their debts afterwards.'
+
+'Faith! you are right,' said Cadurcis, laughing, 'and lucky is he who
+has neither creditors nor offspring, and who owes neither money nor
+affection, after all the most difficult to pay of the two.'
+
+'It cannot be commanded, certainly,' said Herbert 'There is no usury
+for love.'
+
+'And yet it is very expensive, too, sometimes, said Cadurcis,
+laughing. 'For my part, sympathy is a puzzler.'
+
+'You should read Cabanis,' said Herbert, 'if indeed, you have not.
+I think I may find it here; I will lend it you. It has, from its
+subject, many errors, but it is very suggestive.'
+
+'Now, that is kind, for I have not a book here, and, after all, there
+is nothing like reading. I wish I had read more, but it is not too
+late. I envy you your learning, besides so many other things. However,
+I hope we shall not part in a hurry; we have met at last,' he said,
+extending his hand, 'and we were always friends.'
+
+Herbert shook his hand very warmly. 'I can assure you, Lord Cadurcis,
+you have not a more sincere admirer of your genius. I am happy in your
+society. For myself, I now aspire to be nothing better than an idler
+in life, turning over a page, and sometimes noting down a fancy. You
+have, it appears, known my family long and intimately, and you were,
+doubtless, surprised at finding me with them. I have returned to
+my hearth, and I am content. Once I sacrificed my happiness to my
+philosophy, and now I have sacrificed my philosophy to my happiness.'
+
+'Dear friend!' said Cadurcis, putting his arm affectionately in
+Herbert's as they walked along, 'for, indeed, you must allow me to
+style you so; all the happiness and all the sorrow of my life alike
+flow from your roof!'
+
+In the meantime Lady Annabel and Venetia came forth from the villa to
+their morning meal in their amphitheatre of hills. Marmion was not
+there to greet them as usual.
+
+'Was not Plantagenet amusing last night?' said Venetia; 'and are not
+you happy, dear mother, to see him once more?'
+
+'Indeed I am now always happy,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And George was telling me last night, in this portico, of all their
+life. He is more attached to Plantagenet than ever. He says it is
+impossible for any one to have behaved with greater kindness, or to
+have led, in every sense, a more calm and rational life. When he was
+alone at Athens, he did nothing but write. George says that all his
+former works are nothing to what he has written now.'
+
+'He is very engaging,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I think he will be such a delightful companion for papa. I am sure
+papa must like him. I hope he will stay some time; for, after all,
+poor dear papa, he must require a little amusement besides our
+society. Instead of being with his books, he might be walking and
+talking with Plantagenet. I think, dearest mother, we shall be happier
+than ever!'
+
+At this moment Herbert, with Cadurcis leaning on his arm, and
+apparently speaking with great earnestness, appeared in the distance.
+'There they are,' said Venetia; 'I knew they would be friends. Come,
+dearest mother, let us meet them.'
+
+'You see, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'it is just as I said:
+Mr. George is not here; he is having tea and toast on board the brig.'
+
+'I do not believe it,' said Venetia, smiling.
+
+They seated themselves at the breakfast-table.
+
+'You should have seen our Apennine breakfasts in the autumn, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. 'Every fruit of nature seemed crowded before
+us. It was indeed a meal for a poet or a painter like Paul Veronese;
+our grapes, our figs, our peaches, our mountain strawberries, they
+made a glowing picture. For my part, I have an original prejudice
+against animal food which I have never quite overcome, and I believe
+it is only to please Lady Annabel that I have relapsed into the heresy
+of cutlets.'
+
+'Do you think I have grown fatter, Lady Annabel?' said Lord Cadurcis,
+starting up; 'I brought myself down at Athens to bread and olives, but
+I have been committing terrible excesses lately, but only fish.'
+
+'Ah! here is George!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+And Captain Cadurcis appeared, followed by a couple of sailors,
+bearing a huge case.
+
+'George,' said Venetia, 'I have been defending you against
+Plantagenet; he said you would not come.'
+
+'Never mind, George, it was only behind your back,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and, under those legitimate circumstances, why even our
+best friends cannot expect us to spare them.'
+
+'I have brought Venetia her toys,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'and she was
+right to defend me, as I have been working for her.'
+
+The top of the case was knocked off, and all the Turkish buffooneries,
+as Cadurcis called them, made their appearance: slippers, and shawls,
+and bottles of perfumes, and little hand mirrors, beautifully
+embroidered; and fanciful daggers, and rosaries, and a thousand other
+articles, of which they had plundered the bazaars of Constantinople.
+
+'And here is a Turkish volume of poetry, beautifully illuminated; and
+that is for you,' said Cadurcis giving it to Herbert. 'Perhaps it is a
+translation of one of our works. Who knows? We can always say it is.'
+
+'This is the second present you have made me this morning. Here is a
+volume of my works,' said Herbert, producing the book that Cadurcis
+had before given him. 'I never expected that anything I wrote would be
+so honoured. This, too, is the work of which I am the least ashamed
+for my wife admired it. There, Annabel, even though Lord Cadurcis is
+here, I will present it to you; 'tis an old friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accepted the book very graciously, and, in spite of all
+the temptations of her toys, Venetia could not refrain from peeping
+over her mother's shoulder at its contents. 'Mother,' she whispered,
+in a voice inaudible save to Lady Annabel, 'I may read this!'
+
+Lady Annabel gave it her.
+
+'And now we must send for Pauncefort, I think,' said Lady Annabel, 'to
+collect and take care of our treasures.'
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, when that gentlewoman appeared, 'I
+have brought you a shawl, but I could not bring you a turban, because
+the Turkish ladies do not wear turbans; but if I had thought we should
+have met so soon, I would have had one made on purpose for you.'
+
+'La! my lord, you always are so polite!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When the breakfast was over, they wandered about the valley, which
+Cadurcis could not sufficiently admire. Insensibly he drew Venetia
+from the rest of the party, on the pretence of showing her a view at
+some little distance. They walked along by the side of a rivulet,
+which glided through the hills, until they were nearly a mile from the
+villa, though still in sight.
+
+'Venetia,' he at length said, turning the conversation to a more
+interesting topic, 'your father and myself have disburthened our minds
+to each, other this morning; I think we know each other now as well as
+if we were as old acquaintances as myself and his daughter.'
+
+'Ah! I knew that you and papa must agree,' said Venetia; 'I was saying
+so this morning to my mother.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Cadurcis, with a laughing eye, 'all this is very
+strange, is it not?'
+
+'Very strange, indeed, Plantagenet; I should not be surprised if it
+appeared to you as yet even incredible.'
+
+'It is miraculous,' said Cadurcis, 'but not incredible; an angel
+interfered, and worked the miracle. I know all.'
+
+Venetia looked at him with a faint flush upon her cheek; she gathered
+a flower and plucked it to pieces.
+
+'What a singular destiny ours has been, Venetia! 'said Cadurcis. 'Do
+you know, I can sit for an hour together and muse over it.'
+
+'Can you, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I have such an extraordinary memory; I do not think I ever forgot
+anything. We have had some remarkable conversations in our time,
+eh, Venetia? Do you remember my visit to Cherbury before I went to
+Cambridge, and the last time I saw you before I left England? And now
+it all ends in this! What do you think of it, Venetia?'
+
+'Think of what, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Why, of this reconciliation?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, what can I think of it but what I have expressed,
+that it is a wonderful event, but the happiest in my life.'
+
+'You are quite happy now?'
+
+'Quite.'
+
+'I see you do not care for me the least.'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are perverse. Are you not here?'
+
+'Did you ever think of me when I was away?'
+
+'You know very well, Plantagenet, that it is impossible for me to
+cease to be interested in you. Could I refrain from thinking of such a
+friend?'
+
+'Friend! poh! I am not your friend; and, as for that, you never once
+mentioned my name to your father, Miss Venetia.'
+
+'You might easily conceive that there were reasons for such silence,'
+said Venetia. 'It could not arise on my part from forgetfulness or
+indifference; for, even if my feelings were changed towards you, you
+are not a person that one would, or even could, avoid speaking of,
+especially to papa, who must have felt such interest in you! I am
+sure, even if I had not known you, there were a thousand occasions
+which would have called your name to my lips, had they been
+uncontrolled by other considerations.'
+
+'Come, Venetia, I am not going to submit to compliments from you,'
+said Lord Cadurcis; 'no blarney. I wish you only to think of me as
+you did ten years ago. I will not have our hearts polluted by the
+vulgarity of fame. I want you to feel for me as you did when we were
+children. I will not be an object of interest, and admiration, and
+fiddlestick to you; I will not submit to it.'
+
+'Well, you shall not,' said Venetia, laughing. 'I will not admire you
+the least; I will only think of you as a good little boy.'
+
+'You do not love me any longer, I see that,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Yes I do, Plantagenet.'
+
+'You do not love me so much as you did the night before I went to
+Eton, and we sat over the fire? Ah! how often I have thought of that
+night when I was at Athens!' he added in a tone of emotion.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' said Venetia, 'do not be silly. I am in the
+highest spirits in the world; I am quite gay with happiness, and all
+because you have returned. Do not spoil my pleasure.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I see how it is; you have forgotten me, or worse than
+forgotten me.'
+
+'Well, I am sure I do not know what to say to satisfy you,' said
+Venetia. 'I think you very unreasonable, and very ungrateful too, for
+I have always been your friend, Plantagenet, and I am sure you know
+it. You sent me a message before you went abroad.'
+
+'Darling!' said Lord Cadurcis, seizing her hand, 'I am not ungrateful,
+I am not unreasonable. I adore you. You were very kind then, when all
+the world was against me. You shall see how I will pay them off, the
+dogs! and worse than dogs, their betters far; dogs are faithful. Do
+you remember poor old Marmion? How we were mystified, Venetia! Little
+did we think then who was Marmion's godfather.'
+
+Venetia smiled; but she said, 'I do not like this bitterness of yours,
+Plantagenet. You have no cause to complain of the world, and you
+magnify a petty squabble with a contemptible coterie into a quarrel
+with a nation. It is not a wise humour, and, if you indulge it, it
+will not be a happy one.'
+
+'I will do exactly what you wish on every subject, said Cadurcis, 'if
+you will do exactly what I wish on one.'
+
+'Well!' said Venetia.
+
+'Once you told me,' said Cadurcis, 'that you would not marry me
+without the consent of your father; then, most unfairly, you added to
+your conditions the consent of your mother. Now both your parents are
+very opportunely at hand; let us fall down upon our knees, and beg
+their blessing.'
+
+'O! my dear Plantagenet, I think it will be much better for me never
+to marry. We are both happy now; let us remain so. You can live here,
+and I can be your sister. Will not that do?'
+
+'No, Venetia, it will not.'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet!' said Venetia with a faltering voice, 'if you knew
+how much I had suffered, dear Plantagenet!'
+
+'I know it; I know all,' said Cadurcis, taking her arm and placing it
+tenderly in his. 'Now listen to me, sweet girl; I loved you when a
+child, when I was unknown to the world, and unknown to myself; I loved
+you as a youth not utterly inexperienced in the world, and when my
+rising passions had taught me to speculate on the character of women;
+I loved you as a man, Venetia, with that world at my feet, that
+world which I scorn, but which I will command; I have been constant,
+Venetia; your heart assures you, of that. You are the only being in
+existence who exercises over me any influence; and the influence you
+possess is irresistible and eternal. It springs from some deep and
+mysterious sympathy of blood which I cannot penetrate. It can neither
+be increased nor diminished by time. It is entirely independent of
+its action. I pretend not to love you more at this moment than when
+I first saw you, when you entered the terrace-room at Cherbury and
+touched my cheek. From that moment I was yours. I declare to you, most
+solemnly I declare to you, that I know not what love is except to you.
+The world has called me a libertine; the truth is, no other woman can
+command my spirit for an hour. I see through them at a glance. I read
+all their weakness, frivolity, vanity, affectation, as if they were
+touched by the revealing rod of Asmodeus. You were born to be my
+bride. Unite yourself with me, control my destiny, and my course shall
+be like the sun of yesterday; but reject me, reject me, and I devote
+all my energies to the infernal gods; I will pour my lava over the
+earth until all that remains of my fatal and exhausted nature is a
+black and barren cone surrounded by bitter desolation.'
+
+'Plantagenet; be calm!'
+
+'I am perfectly calm, Venetia. You talk to me of your sufferings.
+What has occasioned them? A struggle against nature. Nature has now
+triumphed, and you are happy. What necessity was there for all this
+misery that has fallen on your house? Why is your father an exile? Do
+not you think that if your mother had chosen to exert her influence
+she might have prevented the most fatal part of his career?
+Undoubtedly despair impelled his actions as much as philosophy, though
+I give him credit for a pure and lofty spirit, to no man more. But not
+a murmur against your mother from me. She received my overtures of
+reconciliation last night with more than cordiality. She is your
+mother, Venetia, and she once was mine. Indeed, I love her; indeed,
+you would find that I would study her happiness. For after all, sweet,
+is there another woman in existence better qualified to fill the
+position of my mother-in-law? I could not behave unkindly to her; I
+could not treat her with neglect or harshness; not merely for the
+sake of her many admirable qualities, but from other considerations,
+Venetia, considerations we never can forget. By heavens! I love your
+mother; I do, indeed, Venetia! I remember so many things; her last
+words to me when I went to Eton. If she would only behave kindly
+to me, you would see what a son-in-law I should make. You would be
+jealous, that you should, Venetia. I can bear anything from you,
+Venetia, but, with others, I cannot forget who I am. It makes me
+bitter to be treated as Lady Annabel treated me last year in London:
+but a smile and a kind word and I recall all her maternal love; I do
+indeed, Venetia; last night when she was kind I could have kissed
+her!'
+
+Poor Venetia could not answer, her tears were flowing so plenteously.
+'I have told your father all, sweetest,' said Cadurcis; 'I concealed
+nothing.'
+
+'And what said he?' murmured Venetia.
+
+'It rests with your mother. After all that has passed, he will
+not attempt to control your fate. And he is right. Perhaps his
+interference in my favour might even injure me. But there is no cause
+for despair; all I wanted was to come to an understanding with you; to
+be sure you loved me as you always have done. I will not be impatient.
+I will do everything to soothe and conciliate and gratify Lady
+Annabel; you will see how I will behave! As you say, too, we are happy
+because we are together; and, therefore, it would be unreasonable not
+to be patient. I never can be sufficiently grateful for this meeting.
+I concluded you would be in England, though we were on our way to
+Milan to inquire after you. George has been a great comfort to me in
+all this affair, Venetia; he loves you, Venetia, almost as much as
+I do. I think I should have gone mad during that cursed affair in
+England, had it not been for George. I thought you would hate me; but,
+when George brought me your message, I cared for nothing; and then his
+visit to the lake was so devilish kind! He is a noble fellow and a
+true friend. My sweet, sweet Venetia, dry your eyes. Let us rejoin
+them with a smile. We have not been long away, I will pretend we have
+been violet hunting,' said Cadurcis, stooping down and plucking up a
+handful of flowers. 'Do you remember our violets at home, Venetia?
+Do you know, Venetia, I always fancy every human being is like some
+object in nature; and you always put me in mind of a violet so fresh
+and sweet and delicate!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+'We have been exploring the happy valley,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady
+Annabel, 'and here is our plunder,' and he gave her the violets.
+
+'You were always fond of flowers,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yes, I imbibed the taste from you,' said Cadurcis, gratified by the
+gracious remark.
+
+He seated himself at her feet, examined and admired her work, and
+talked of old times, but with such infinite discretion, that he did
+not arouse a single painful association. Venetia was busied with her
+father's poems, and smiled often at the manuscript notes of Cadurcis.
+Lying, as usual, on the grass, and leaning his head on his left arm,
+Herbert was listening to Captain Cadurcis, who was endeavouring to
+give him a clear idea of the Bosphorus. Thus the morning wore away,
+until the sun drove them into the villa.
+
+'I will show you my library, Lord Cadurcis,' said Herbert.
+
+Cadurcis followed him into a spacious apartment, where he found a
+collection so considerable that he could not suppress his surprise.
+'Italian spoils chiefly,' said Herbert; 'a friend of mine purchased
+an old library at Bologna for me, and it turned out richer than I
+imagined: the rest are old friends that have been with me, many of
+them at least, at college. I brought them back with me from America,
+for then they were my only friends.'
+
+'Can you find Cabanis?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Herbert looked about. It is in this neighbourhood, I imagine,' he
+said. Cadurcis endeavoured to assist him. 'What is this?' he said;
+'Plato!'
+
+'I should like to read Plato at Athens,' said Herbert. 'My ambition
+now does not soar beyond such elegant fortune.'
+
+'We are all under great obligations to Plato,' said Cadurcis. 'I
+remember, when I was in London, I always professed myself his
+disciple, and it is astonishing what results I experienced. Platonic
+love was a great invention.'
+
+Herbert smiled; but, as he saw Cadurcis knew nothing about the
+subject, he made no reply.
+
+'Plato says, or at least I think he says, that life is love,' said
+Cadurcis. 'I have said it myself in a very grand way too; I believe I
+cribbed it from you. But what does he mean? I am sure I meant nothing;
+but I dare say you did.'
+
+'I certainly had some meaning,' said Herbert, stopping in his search,
+and smiling, 'but I do not know whether I expressed it. The principle
+of every motion, that is of all life, is desire or love: at present;
+I am in love with the lost volume of Cabanis, and, if it were not
+for the desire of obtaining it, I should not now be affording any
+testimony of my vitality by looking after it.'
+
+'That is very clear,' said Cadurcis, 'but I was thinking of love in
+the vulgar sense, in the shape of a petticoat. Certainly, when I am in
+love with a woman, I feel love is life; but, when I am out of love,
+which often happens, and generally very soon, I still contrive to
+live.'
+
+'We exist,' said Herbert, 'because we sympathise. If we did not
+sympathise with the air, we should die. But, if we only sympathised
+with the air, we should be in the lowest order of brutes, baser than
+the sloth. Mount from the sloth to the poet. It is sympathy that makes
+you a poet. It is your desire that the airy children of your brain
+should be born anew within another's, that makes you create;
+therefore, a misanthropical poet is a contradiction in terms.'
+
+'But when he writes a lampoon?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'He desires that the majority, who are not lampooned, should share his
+hate,' said Herbert.
+
+'But Swift lampooned the species,' said Cadurcis. 'For my part, I
+think life is hatred.'
+
+'But Swift was not sincere, for he wrote the Drapier's Letters at the
+same time. Besides, the very fact of your abusing mankind proves that
+you do not hate them; it is clear that you are desirous of obtaining
+their good opinion of your wit. You value them, you esteem them, you
+love them. Their approbation causes you to act, and makes you happy.
+As for sexual love,' said Herbert, 'of which you were speaking, its
+quality and duration depend upon the degree of sympathy that subsists
+between the two persons interested. Plato believed, and I believe with
+him, in the existence of a spiritual antitype of the soul, so that
+when we are born, there is something within us which, from the instant
+we live and move, thirsts after its likeness. This propensity develops
+itself with the development of our nature. The gratification of the
+senses soon becomes a very small part of that profound and complicated
+sentiment, which we call love. Love, on the contrary, is an universal
+thirst for a communion, not merely of the senses, but of our whole
+nature, intellectual, imaginative, and sensitive. He who finds his
+antitype, enjoys a love perfect and enduring; time cannot change it,
+distance cannot remove it; the sympathy is complete. He who loves an
+object that approaches his antitype, is proportionately happy, the
+sympathy is feeble or strong, as it may be. If men were properly
+educated, and their faculties fully developed,' continued Herbert,
+'the discovery of the antitype would be easy; and, when the day
+arrives that it is a matter of course, the perfection of civilisation
+will be attained.'
+
+'I believe in Plato,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I think I have found my
+antitype. His theory accounts for what I never could understand.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+In the course of the evening Lady Annabel requested Lord Cadurcis and
+his cousin to take up their quarters at the villa. Independent of the
+delight which such an invitation occasioned him, Cadurcis was doubly
+gratified by its being given by her. It was indeed her unprompted
+solicitation; for neither Herbert nor even Venetia, however much
+they desired the arrangement, was anxious to appear eager for its
+fulfilment. Desirous of pleasing her husband and her daughter; a
+little penitent as to her previous treatment of Cadurcis, now that
+time and strange events had combined to soften her feelings; and won
+by his engaging demeanour towards herself, Lady Annabel had of mere
+impulse resolved upon the act; and she was repaid by the general air
+of gaiety and content which it diffused through the circle.
+
+Few weeks indeed passed ere her ladyship taught herself even to
+contemplate the possibility of an union between her daughter and
+Lord Cadurcis. The change which had occurred in her own feelings and
+position had in her estimation removed very considerable barriers to
+such a result. It would not become her again to urge the peculiarity
+of his temperament as an insuperable objection to the marriage; that
+was out of the question, even if the conscience of Lady Annabel
+herself, now that she was so happy, were perfectly free from any
+participation in the causes which occasioned the original estrangement
+between Herbert and herself. Desirous too, as all mothers are, that
+her daughter should be suitably married, Lady Annabel could not shut
+her eyes to the great improbability of such an event occurring, now
+that Venetia had, as it were, resigned all connection with her native
+country. As to her daughter marrying a foreigner, the very idea was
+intolerable to her; and Venetia appeared therefore to have resumed
+that singular and delicate position which she occupied at Cherbury in
+earlier years, when Lady Annabel had esteemed her connection with Lord
+Cadurcis so fortunate and auspicious. Moreover, while Lord Cadurcis,
+in birth, rank, country, and consideration, offered in every view of
+the ease so gratifying an alliance, he was perhaps the only Englishman
+whose marriage into her family would not deprive her of the society of
+her child. Cadurcis had a great distaste for England, which he seized
+every opportunity to express. He continually declared that he would
+never return there; and his habits of seclusion and study so entirely
+accorded with those of her husband, that Lady Annabel did not doubt
+they would continue to form only one family; a prospect so engaging to
+her, that it would perhaps have alone removed the distrust which she
+had so unfortunately cherished against the admirer of her daughter;
+and although some of his reputed opinions occasioned her doubtless
+considerable anxiety, he was nevertheless very young, and far from
+emancipated from the beneficial influence of his early education. She
+was sanguine that this sheep would yet return to the fold where once
+he had been tended with so much solicitude. When too she called to
+mind the chastened spirit of her husband, and could not refrain from
+feeling that, had she not quitted him, he might at a much earlier
+period have attained a mood so full of promise and to her so cheering,
+she could not resist the persuasion that, under the influence of
+Venetia, Cadurcis might speedily free himself from the dominion of
+that arrogant genius to which, rather than to any serious conviction,
+the result of a studious philosophy, she attributed his indifference
+on the most important of subjects. On the whole, however, it was with
+no common gratification that Lady Annabel observed the strong and
+intimate friendship that arose between her husband and Cadurcis. They
+were inseparable companions. Independently of the natural sympathy
+between two highly imaginative minds, there were in the superior
+experience, the noble character, the vast knowledge, and refined taste
+of Herbert, charms of which Cadurcis was very susceptible Cadurcis had
+not been a great reader himself, and he liked the company of one whose
+mind was at once so richly cultured and so deeply meditative: thus he
+obtained matter and spirit distilled through the alembic of another's
+brain. Jealousy had never had a place in Herbert's temperament; now he
+was insensible even to emulation. He spoke of Cadurcis as he thought,
+with the highest admiration; as one without a rival, and in whose
+power it was to obtain an imperishable fame. It was his liveliest
+pleasure to assist the full development of such an intellect, and to
+pour to him, with a lavish hand, all the treasures of his taste, his
+learning, his fancy, and his meditation. His kind heart, his winning
+manners, his subdued and perfect temper, and the remembrance of the
+relation which he bore to Venetia, completed the spell which bound
+Cadurcis to him with all the finest feelings of his nature. It was,
+indeed, an intercourse peculiarly beneficial to Cadurcis, whose career
+had hitherto tended rather to the development of the power, than the
+refinement of his genius; and to whom an active communion with an
+equal spirit of a more matured intelligence was an incident rather to
+be desired than expected. Herbert and Cadurcis, therefore, spent their
+mornings together, sometimes in the library, sometimes wandering in
+the chestnut woods, sometimes sailing in the boat of the brig, for
+they were both fond of the sea: in these excursions, George was in
+general their companion. He had become a great favourite with Herbert,
+as with everybody else. No one managed a boat so well, although
+Cadurcis prided himself also on his skill in this respect; and George
+was so frank and unaffected, and so used to his cousin's habits, that
+his presence never embarrassed Herbert and Cadurcis, and they read or
+conversed quite at their ease, as if there were no third person to
+mar, by his want of sympathy, the full communion of their intellect.
+The whole circle met at dinner, and never again parted until at a late
+hour of night. This was a most agreeable life; Cadurcis himself, good
+humoured because he was happy, doubly exerted himself to ingratiate
+himself with Lady Annabel, and felt every day that he was advancing.
+Venetia always smiled upon him, and praised him delightfully for his
+delightful conduct.
+
+In the evening, Herbert would read to them the manuscript poem of
+Cadurcis, the fruits of his Attic residence and Grecian meditations.
+The poet would sometimes affect a playful bashfulness on this head,
+perhaps not altogether affected, and amuse Venetia, in a whisper, with
+his running comments; or exclaim with an arch air, 'I say, Venetia,
+what would Mrs. Montague and the Blues give for this, eh? I can fancy
+Hannah More in decent ecstasies!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+'It is an odd thing, my dear Herbert,' said Cadurcis to his friend, in
+one of these voyages, 'that destiny should have given you and me the
+same tutor.'
+
+'Masham!' said Herbert, smiling. 'I tell you what is much more
+singular, my dear Cadurcis; it is, that, notwithstanding being our
+tutor, a mitre should have fallen upon his head.'
+
+'I am heartily glad,' said Cadurcis. 'I like Masham very much; I
+really have a sincere affection for him. Do you know, during my
+infernal affair about those accursed Monteagles, when I went to the
+House of Lords, and was cut even by my own party; think of that, the
+polished ruffians! Masham was the only person who came forward and
+shook hands with me, and in the most marked manner. A bishop, too! and
+the other side! that was good, was it not? But he would not see his
+old pupil snubbed; if he had waited ten minutes longer, he might have
+had a chance of seeing him massacred. And then they complain of my
+abusing England, my mother country; a step-dame, I take it.'
+
+'Masham is in politics a Tory, in religion ultra-orthodox,' Herbert.
+'He has nothing about him of the latitudinarian; and yet he is the
+most amiable man with whom I am acquainted. Nature has given him a
+kind and charitable heart, which even his opinions have not succeeded
+in spoiling.'
+
+'Perhaps that is exactly what he is saying of us two at this moment,'
+said Cadurcis. 'After all, what is truth? It changes as you change
+your clime or your country; it changes with the century. The truth of
+a hundred years ago is not the truth of the present day, and yet it
+may have been as genuine. Truth at Rome is not the truth of London,
+and both of them differ from the truth of Constantinople. For my part,
+I believe everything.'
+
+'Well, that is practically prudent, if it be metaphysically possible,'
+said Herbert. 'Do you know that I have always been of opinion, that
+Pontius Pilate has been greatly misrepresented by Lord Bacon in the
+quotation of his celebrated question. 'What is truth?' said jesting
+Pilate, and would not wait for an answer. Let us be just to Pontius
+Pilate, who has sins enough surely to answer for. There is no
+authority for the jesting humour given by Lord Bacon. Pilate was
+evidently of a merciful and clement disposition; probably an
+Epicurean. His question referred to a declaration immediately
+preceding it, that He who was before him came to bear witness to the
+truth. Pilate inquired what truth?'
+
+'Well, I always have a prejudice against Pontius Pilate,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and I think it is from seeing him, when I was a child,
+on an old Dutch tile fireplace at Marringhurst, dressed like a
+burgomaster. One cannot get over one's early impressions; but when you
+picture him to me as an Epicurean, he assumes a new character. I fancy
+him young, noble, elegant, and accomplished; crowned with a wreath and
+waving a goblet, and enjoying his government vastly.'
+
+'Before the introduction of Christianity,' said Herbert, 'the
+philosophic schools answered to our present religious sects. You said
+of a man that he was a Stoic or an Epicurean, as you say of a man now
+that he is a Calvinist or a Wesleyan.'
+
+'I should have liked to have known Epicurus,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I would sooner have known him and Plato than any of the ancients,'
+said Herbert. 'I look upon Plato as the wisest and the profoundest of
+men, and upon Epicurus as the most humane and gentle.'
+
+'Now, how do you account for the great popularity of Aristotle in
+modern ages?' said Cadurcis; 'and the comparative neglect of these, at
+least his equals? Chance, I suppose, that settles everything.'
+
+'By no means,' said Herbert. 'If you mean by chance an absence of
+accountable cause, I do not believe such a quality as chance exists.
+Every incident that happens, must be a link in a chain. In the present
+case, the monks monopolised literature, such as it might be, and they
+exercised their intellect only in discussing words. They, therefore,
+adopted Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Plato interfered with their
+heavenly knowledge, and Epicurus, who maintained the rights of man to
+pleasure and happiness, would have afforded a dangerous and seducing
+contrast to their dark and miserable code of morals.'
+
+'I think, of the ancients,' said Cadurcis; 'Alcibiades and Alexander
+the Great are my favourites. They were young, beautiful, and
+conquerors; a great combination.'
+
+'And among the moderns?' inquired Herbert.
+
+'They don't touch my fancy,' said Cadurcis. 'Who are your heroes?'
+
+'Oh! I have many; but I confess I should like to pass a day with
+Milton, or Sir Philip Sidney.'
+
+'Among mere literary men,' said Cadurcis; 'I should say Bayle.'
+
+'And old Montaigne for me,' said Herbert.
+
+'Well, I would fain visit him in his feudal chateau,' said Cadurcis.
+'His is one of the books which give a spring to the mind. Of modern
+times, the feudal ages of Italy most interest me. I think that was a
+springtide of civilisation, all the fine arts nourished at the same
+moment.'
+
+'They ever will,' said Herbert. 'All the inventive arts maintain a
+sympathetic connection between each other, for, after all, they are
+only various expressions of one internal power, modified by different
+circumstances either of the individual or of society. It was so in
+the age of Pericles; I mean the interval which intervened between
+the birth of that great man and the death of Aristotle; undoubtedly,
+whether considered in itself, or with reference to the effects which
+it produced upon the subsequent destinies of civilised man, the most
+memorable in the history of the world.'
+
+'And yet the age of Pericles has passed away,' said Lord Cadurcis
+mournfully, 'and I have gazed upon the mouldering Parthenon. O
+Herbert! you are a great thinker and muse deeply; solve me the
+problem why so unparalleled a progress was made during that period
+in literature and the arts, and why that progress, so rapid and so
+sustained, so soon received a check and became retrograde?'
+
+'It is a problem left to the wonder and conjecture of posterity,' said
+Herbert. 'But its solution, perhaps, may principally be found in the
+weakness of their political institutions. Nothing of the Athenians
+remains except their genius; but they fulfilled their purpose. The
+wrecks and fragments of their subtle and profound minds obscurely
+suggest to us the grandeur and perfection of the whole. Their language
+excels every other tongue of the Western world; their sculptures
+baffle all subsequent artists; credible witnesses assure us that their
+paintings were not inferior; and we are only accustomed to consider
+the painters of Italy as those who have brought the art to its highest
+perfection, because none of the ancient pictures have been preserved.
+Yet of all their fine arts, it was music of which the Greeks were
+themselves most proud. Its traditionary effects were far more powerful
+than any which we experience from the compositions of our times. And
+now for their poetry, Cadurcis. It is in poetry, and poetry alone,
+that modern nations have maintained the majesty of genius. Do we equal
+the Greeks? Do we even excel them?'
+
+'Let us prove the equality first,' said Cadurcis. 'The Greeks excelled
+in every species of poetry. In some we do not even attempt to rival
+them. We have not a single modern ode, or a single modern pastoral. We
+have no one to place by Pindar, or the exquisite Theocritus. As for
+the epic, I confess myself a heretic as to Homer; I look upon the
+Iliad as a remnant of national songs; the wise ones agree that the
+Odyssey is the work of a later age. My instinct agrees with the result
+of their researches. I credit their conclusion. The Paradise Lost is,
+doubtless, a great production, but the subject is monkish. Dante is
+national, but he has all the faults of a barbarous age. In general the
+modern epic is framed upon the assumption that the Iliad is an orderly
+composition. They are indebted for this fallacy to Virgil, who called
+order out of chaos; but the Aeneid, all the same, appears to me an
+insipid creation. And now for the drama. You will adduce Shakspeare?'
+
+'There are passages in Dante,' said Herbert, 'not inferior, in my
+opinion, to any existing literary composition, but, as a whole, I will
+not make my stand on him; I am not so clear that, as a lyric poet,
+Petrarch may not rival the Greeks. Shakspeare I esteem of ineffable
+merit.'
+
+'And who is Shakspeare?' said Cadurcis. 'We know of him as much as we
+do of Homer. Did he write half the plays attributed to him? Did he
+ever write a single whole play? I doubt it. He appears to me to have
+been an inspired adapter for the theatres, which were then not as
+good as barns. I take him to have been a botcher up of old plays.
+His popularity is of modern date, and it may not last; it would have
+surprised him marvellously. Heaven knows, at present, all that bears
+his name is alike admired; and a regular Shaksperian falls into
+ecstasies with trash which deserves a niche in the Dunciad. For my
+part, I abhor your irregular geniuses, and I love to listen to the
+little nightingale of Twickenham.'
+
+'I have often observed,' said Herbert, 'that writers of an unbridled
+imagination themselves, admire those whom the world, erroneously,
+in my opinion, and from a confusion of ideas, esteems correct. I am
+myself an admirer of Pope, though I certainly should not ever think of
+classing him among the great creative spirits. And you, you are the
+last poet in the world, Cadurcis, whom one would have fancied his
+votary.'
+
+'I have written like a boy,' said Cadurcis. 'I found the public bite,
+and so I baited on with tainted meat. I have never written for fame,
+only for notoriety; but I am satiated; I am going to turn over a new
+leaf.'
+
+'For myself,' said Herbert, 'if I ever had the power to impress my
+creations on my fellow-men, the inclination is gone, and perhaps the
+faculty is extinct. My career is over; perhaps a solitary echo from my
+lyre may yet, at times, linger about the world like a breeze that has
+lost its way. But there is a radical fault in my poetic mind, and I am
+conscious of it. I am not altogether void of the creative faculty, but
+mine is a fragmentary mind; I produce no whole. Unless you do this,
+you cannot last; at least, you cannot materially affect your species.
+But what I admire in you, Cadurcis, is that, with all the faults
+of youth, of which you will free yourself, your creative power is
+vigorous, prolific, and complete; your creations rise fast and fair,
+like perfect worlds.'
+
+'Well, we will not compliment each other,' said Cadurcis; 'for, after
+all, it is a miserable craft. What is poetry but a lie, and what are
+poets but liars?'
+
+'You are wrong, Cadurcis,' said Herbert, 'poets are the unacknowledged
+legislators of the world.'
+
+'I see the towers of Porto Venere,' said Cadurcis directing the sail;
+'we shall soon be on shore. I think, too, I recognise Venetia. Ah! my
+dear Herbert, your daughter is a poem that beats all our inspiration!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+One circumstance alone cast a gloom over this happy family, and that
+was the approaching departure of Captain Cadurcis for England. This
+had been often postponed, but it could be postponed no longer. Not
+even the entreaties of those kind friends could any longer prevent
+what was inevitable. The kind heart, the sweet temper, and the lively
+and companionable qualities of Captain Cadurcis, had endeared him to
+everyone; all felt that his departure would occasion a blank in
+their life, impossible to be supplied. It reminded the Herberts also
+painfully of their own situation, in regard to their native country,
+which they were ever unwilling to dwell upon. George talked of
+returning to them, but the prospect was necessarily vague; they
+felt that it was only one of those fanciful visions with which an
+affectionate spirit attempts to soothe the pang of separation. His
+position, his duties, all the projects of his life, bound him to
+England, from which, indeed, he had been too long absent. It was
+selfish to wish that, for their sakes, he should sink down into a mere
+idler in Italy; and yet, when they recollected how little his future
+life could be connected with their own, everyone felt dispirited.
+
+'I shall not go boating to-day,' said George to Venetia; 'it is my
+last day. Mr. Herbert and Plantagenet talk of going to Lavenza; let us
+take a stroll together.'
+
+Nothing can be refused to those we love on the last day, and Venetia
+immediately acceded to his request. In the course of the morning,
+therefore, herself and George quitted the valley, in the direction
+of the coast towards Genoa. Many a white sail glittered on the blue
+waters; it was a lively and cheering scene; but both Venetia and her
+companion were depressed.
+
+'I ought to be happy,' said George, and sighed. 'The fondest wish
+of my heart is attained. You remember our conversation on the Lago
+Maggiore, Venetia? You see I was a prophet, and you will be Lady
+Cadurcis yet.'
+
+'We must keep up our spirits,' said Venetia; 'I do not despair of our
+all returning to England yet. So many wonders have happened, that I
+cannot persuade myself that this marvel will not also occur. I am sure
+my uncle will do something; I have a secret idea that the Bishop is
+all this time working for papa; I feel assured I shall see Cherbury
+and Cadurcis again, and Cadurcis will be your home.'
+
+'A year ago you appeared dying, and Plantagenet was the most miserable
+of men,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'You are both now perfectly well and
+perfectly happy, living even under the same roof, soon, I feel, to be
+united, and with the cordial approbation of Lady Annabel. Your father
+is restored to you. Every blessing in the world seems to cluster round
+your roof. It is selfish for me to wear a gloomy countenance.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you never can be selfish,' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes, I am selfish, Venetia. What else can make me sad?'
+
+'You know how much you contribute to our happiness,' said Venetia,
+'and you feel for our sufferings at your absence.'
+
+'No, Venetia, I feel for myself,' said Captain Cadurcis with energy;
+'I am certain that I never can be happy, except in your society and
+Plantagenet's. I cannot express to you how I love you both. Nothing
+else gives me the slightest interest.'
+
+'You must go home and marry,' said Venetia, smiling 'You must marry an
+heiress.'
+
+'Never,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'Nothing shall ever induce me to
+marry. No! all my dreams are confined to being the bachelor uncle of
+the family.'
+
+'Well, now I think,' said Venetia, 'of all the persons I know, there
+is no one so qualified for domestic happiness as yourself. I think
+your wife, George, would be a very fortunate woman, and I only wish I
+had a sister, that you might marry her.'
+
+'I wish you had, Venetia; I would give up my resolution against
+marriage directly.'
+
+'Alas!' said Venetia, 'there is always some bitter drop in the cup of
+life. Must you indeed go, George?'
+
+'My present departure is inevitable,' he replied; 'but I have some
+thoughts of giving up my profession and Parliament, and then I will
+return, never to leave you again.'
+
+'What will Lord ---- say? That will never do,' said Venetia. 'No; I
+should not be content unless you prospered in the world, George. You
+are made to prosper, and I should be miserable if you sacrificed your
+existence to us. You must go home, and you must marry, and write
+letters to us by every post, and tell us what a happy man you are. The
+best thing for you to do would be to live with your wife at the abbey;
+or Cherbury, if you liked. You see I settle everything.'
+
+'I never will marry,' said Captain Cadurcis, seriously.
+
+'Yes you will,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am quite serious, Venetia. Now, mark my words, and remember this
+day. I never will marry. I have a reason, and a strong and good one,
+for my resolution.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'Because my marriage will destroy the intimacy that subsists between
+me and yourself, and Plantagenet,' he added.
+
+'Your wife should be my friend,' said Venetia.
+
+'Happy woman!' said George.
+
+'Let us indulge for a moment in a dream of domestic bliss,' said
+Venetia gaily. 'Papa and mamma at Cherbury; Plantagenet and myself at
+the abbey, where you and your wife must remain until we could build
+you a house; and Dr. Masham coming down to spend Christmas with us.
+Would it not be delightful? I only hope Plantagenet would be tame. I
+think he would burst out a little sometimes.'
+
+'Not with you, Venetia, not with you,' said George 'you have a hold
+over him which nothing can ever shake. I could always put him in an
+amiable mood in an instant by mentioning your name.'
+
+'I wish you knew the abbey, George,' said Venetia. 'It is the most
+interesting of all old places. I love it. You must promise me when you
+arrive in England to go on a pilgrimage to Cadurcis and Cherbury, and
+write me a long account of it.'
+
+'I will indeed; I will write to you very often.'
+
+'You shall find me a most faithful correspondent, which, I dare say,
+Plantagenet would not prove.'
+
+'Oh! I beg your pardon,' said George; 'you have no idea of the
+quantity of letters he wrote me when he first quitted England.
+And such delightful ones! I do not think there is a more lively
+letter-writer in the world! His descriptions are so vivid; a few
+touches give you a complete picture; and then his observations, they
+are so playful! I assure you there is nothing in the world more easy
+and diverting than a letter from Plantagenet.'
+
+'If you could only see his first letter from Eton to me?' said
+Venetia. 'I have always treasured it. It certainly was not very
+diverting; and, if by easy you mean easy to decipher,' she added
+laughing, 'his handwriting must have improved very much lately. Dear
+Plantagenet, I am always afraid I never pay him sufficient respect;
+that I do not feel sufficient awe in his presence; but I cannot
+disconnect him from the playfellow of my infancy; and, do you know, it
+seems to me, whenever he addresses me, his voice and air change, and
+assume quite the tone and manner of childhood.'
+
+'I have never known him but as a great man,' said Captain Cadurcis;
+'but he was so frank and simple with me from the very first, that I
+cannot believe that it is not two years since we first met.'
+
+'Ah! I shall never forget that night at Ranelagh,' said Venetia, half
+with a smile and half with a sigh. 'How interesting he looked! I loved
+to see the people stare at him, and to hear them whisper his name.'
+
+Here they seated themselves by a fountain, overshadowed by a
+plane-tree, and for a while talked only of Plantagenet.
+
+'All the dreams of my life have come to pass,' said Venetia. 'I
+remember when I was at Weymouth, ill and not very happy, I used to
+roam about the sands, thinking of papa, and how I wished Plantagenet
+was like him, a great man, a great poet, whom all the world admired.
+Little did I think that, before a year had passed, Plantagenet, my
+unknown Plantagenet, would be the admiration of England; little did I
+think another year would pass, and I should be living with my father
+and Plantagenet together, and they should be bosom friends. You see,
+George, we must never despair.'
+
+'Under this bright sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'one is naturally
+sanguine, but think of me alone and in gloomy England.'
+
+'It is indeed a bright sun,' said Venetia; 'how wonderful to wake
+every morning, and be sure of meeting its beam.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis looked around him with a sailor's eye. Over the
+Apennines, towards Genoa, there was a ridge of dark clouds piled up
+with such compactness, that they might have been mistaken in a hasty
+survey for part of the mountains themselves.
+
+'Bright as is the sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'we may have yet a
+squall before night.'
+
+'I was delighted with Venice,' said his companion, not noticing his
+observation; 'I think of all places in the world it is one which
+Plantagenet would most admire. I cannot believe but that even his
+delicious Athens would yield to it.'
+
+'He did lead the oddest life at Athens you can conceive,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'The people did not know what to make of him. He lived in
+the Latin convent, a fine building which he had almost to himself,
+for there are not half a dozen monks. He used to pace up and down the
+terrace which he had turned into a garden, and on which he kept all
+sorts of strange animals. He wrote continually there. Indeed he did
+nothing but write. His only relaxation was a daily ride to Piraeus,
+about five miles over the plain; he told me it was the only time in
+his life he was ever contented with himself except when he was at
+Cherbury. He always spoke of London with disgust.'
+
+'Plantagenet loves retirement and a quiet life,' said Venetia; 'but he
+must not be marred with vulgar sights and common-place duties. That is
+the secret with him.'
+
+'I think the wind has just changed,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'It seems
+to me that we shall have a sirocco. There, it shifts again! We shall
+have a sirocco for certain.'
+
+'What did you think of papa when you first saw him?' said Venetia.
+'Was he the kind of person you expected to see?'
+
+'Exactly,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'So very spiritual! Plantagenet said
+to me, as we went home the first night, that he looked like a golden
+phantom. I think him very like you, Venetia; indeed, there can be no
+doubt you inherited your face from your father.'
+
+'Ah! if you had seen his portrait at Cherbury, when he was only
+twenty!' said Venetia. 'That was a golden phantom, or rather he looked
+like Hyperion. What are you staring at so, George?'
+
+'I do not like this wind,' muttered Captain Cadurcis. 'There it goes.'
+
+'You cannot see the wind, George?'
+
+'Yes, I can, Venetia, and I do not like it at all. Do you see that
+black spot flitting like a shade over the sea? It is like the
+reflection of a cloud on the water; but there is no cloud. Well, that
+is the wind, Venetia, and a very wicked wind too.'
+
+'How strange! Is that indeed the wind?'
+
+'We had better return home,' said Captain Cadurcis I wish they had not
+gone to Lavenza.'
+
+'But there is no danger?' said Venetia.
+
+'Danger? No! no danger, but they may get a wet jacket.'
+
+They walked on; but Captain Cadurcis was rather distrait: his eye was
+always watching the wind; at last he said, 'I tell you, Venetia, we
+must walk quickly; for, by Jove, we are going to have a white squall.'
+
+They hurried their pace, Venetia mentioned her alarm again about the
+boat; but her companion reassured her; yet his manner was not so
+confident as his words.
+
+A white mist began to curl above the horizon, the blueness of the day
+seemed suddenly to fade, and its colour became grey; there was a swell
+on the waters that hitherto had been quite glassy, and they were
+covered with a scurfy foam.
+
+'I wish I had been with them,' said Captain Cadurcis, evidently very
+anxious.
+
+'George, you are alarmed,' said Venetia, earnestly. 'I am sure there
+is danger.'
+
+'Danger! How can there be danger, Venetia? Perhaps they are in port by
+this time. I dare say we shall find them at Spezzia. I will see you
+home and run down to them. Only hurry, for your own sake, for you do
+not know what a white squall in the Mediterranean is. We have but a
+few moments.'
+
+And even at this very instant, the wind came roaring and rushing with
+such a violent gush that Venetia could scarcely stand; George put his
+arm round her to support her. The air was filled with thick white
+vapour, so that they could no longer see the ocean, only the surf
+rising very high all along the coast.
+
+'Keep close to me, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis; 'hold my arm and I
+will walk first, for we shall not be able to see a yard before us in a
+minute. I know where we are. We are above the olive wood, and we shall
+soon be in the ravine. These Mediterranean white squalls are nasty
+things; I had sooner by half be in a south-wester; for one cannot run
+before the wind in this bay, the reefs stretch such a long way out.'
+
+The danger, and the inutility of expressing fears which could only
+perplex her guide, made Venetia silent, but she was terrified.
+She could not divest herself of apprehension about her father and
+Plantagenet. In spite of all he said, it was evident that her
+companion was alarmed.
+
+They had now entered the valley; the mountains had in some degree kept
+off the vapour; the air was more clear. Venetia and Captain Cadurcis
+stopped a moment to breathe. 'Now, Venetia, you are safe,' said
+Captain Cadurcis. 'I will not come in; I will run down to the bay at
+once.' He wiped the mist off his face: Venetia perceived him deadly
+pale.
+
+'George,' she said, 'conceal nothing from me; there is danger,
+imminent danger. Tell me at once.'
+
+'Indeed, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'I am sure everything will
+be quite right. There is some danger, certainly, at this moment; but
+of course, long ago, they have run into harbour. I have no doubt they
+are at Spezzia at this moment. Now, do not be alarmed; indeed there
+is no cause. God bless you!' he said, and bounded away. 'No cause,'
+thought he to himself, as the wind sounded like thunder, and the
+vapour came rushing up the ravine. 'God grant I may be right; but
+neither between the Tropics nor on the Line have I witnessed a severer
+squall than this! What open boat can live in this weather Oh! that I
+had been with them. I shall never forgive myself!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Venetia found her mother walking up and down the room, as was her
+custom when she was agitated. She hurried to her daughter. 'You must
+change your dress instantly, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel. 'Where is
+George?'
+
+'He has gone down to Spezzia to papa and Plantagenet; it is a white
+squall; it comes on very suddenly in this sea. He ran down to Spezzia
+instantly, because he thought they would be wet,' said the agitated
+Venetia, speaking with rapidity and trying to appear calm.
+
+'Are they at Spezzia?' inquired Lady Annabel, quickly.
+
+'George has no doubt they are, mother,' said Venetia.
+
+'No doubt!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, in great distress. 'God grant they
+may be only wet.'
+
+'Dearest mother,' said Venetia, approaching her, but speech deserted
+her. She had advanced to encourage Lady Annabel, but her own fear
+checked the words on her lips.
+
+'Change your dress, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel; 'lose no time in
+doing that. I think I will send down to Spezzia at once,'
+
+'That is useless now, dear mother, for George is there.'
+
+'Go, dearest,' said Lady Annabel; 'I dare say, we have no cause for
+fear, but I am exceedingly alarmed about your father, about them: I
+am, indeed. I do not like these sudden squalls, and I never liked this
+boating; indeed, I never did. George being with them reconciled me to
+it. Now go, Venetia; go, my love.'
+
+Venetia quitted the room. She was so agitated that she made Pauncefort
+a confidant of her apprehensions.
+
+'La! my dear miss,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'I should never have
+thought of such a thing! Do not you remember what the old man said
+at Weymouth, "there is many a boat will live in a rougher sea than a
+ship;" and it is such an unlikely thing, it is indeed, Miss Venetia. I
+am certain sure my lord can manage a boat as well as a common sailor,
+and master is hardly less used to it than he. La! miss, don't make
+yourself nervous about any such preposterous ideas. And I dare say you
+will find them in the saloon when you go down again. Really I should
+not wonder. I think you had better wear your twill dress; I have put
+the new trimming on.'
+
+They had not returned when Venetia joined her mother. That indeed she
+could scarcely expect. But, in about half an hour, a message arrived
+from Captain Cadurcis that they were not at Spezzia, but from
+something he had heard, he had no doubt they were at Sarzana, and he
+was going to ride on there at once. He felt sure, however, from what
+he had heard, they were at Sarzana. This communication afforded Lady
+Annabel a little ease, but Venetia's heart misgave her. She recalled
+the alarm of George in the morning, which it was impossible for him to
+disguise, and she thought she recognised in this hurried message and
+vague assurances of safety something of the same apprehension, and the
+same fruitless efforts to conceal it.
+
+Now came the time of terrible suspense. Sarzana was nearly twenty
+miles distant from Spezzia. The evening must arrive before they could
+receive intelligence from Captain Cadurcis. In the meantime the squall
+died away, the heavens became again bright, and, though the waves were
+still tumultuous, the surf was greatly decreased. Lady Annabel had
+already sent down more than one messenger to the bay, but they brought
+no intelligence; she resolved now to go herself, that she might have
+the satisfaction of herself cross-examining the fishermen who had been
+driven in from various parts by stress of weather. She would not let
+Venetia accompany her, who, she feared, might already suffer from the
+exertions and rough weather of the morning. This was a most anxious
+hour, and yet the absence of her mother was in some degree a relief to
+Venetia; it at least freed her from the perpetual effort of assumed
+composure. While her mother remained, Venetia had affected to read,
+though her eye wandered listlessly over the page, or to draw, though
+the pencil trembled in her hand; anything which might guard her from
+conveying to her mother that she shared the apprehensions which had
+already darkened her mother's mind. But now that Lady Annabel was
+gone, Venetia, muffling herself up in her shawl, threw herself on a
+sofa, and there she remained without a thought, her mind a chaos of
+terrible images.
+
+Her mother returned, and with a radiant countenance, Venetia sprang
+from the sofa. 'There is good news; O mother! have they returned?'
+
+'They are not at Spezzia,' said Lady Annabel, throwing herself into a
+chair panting for breath; 'but there is good news. You see I was right
+to go, Venetia. These stupid people we send only ask questions, and
+take the first answer. I have seen a fisherman, and he says he heard
+that two persons, Englishmen he believes, have put into Lerici in an
+open boat.'
+
+'God be praised!' said Venetia. 'O mother, I can now confess to you
+the terror I have all along felt.'
+
+'My own heart assures me of it, my child,' said Lady Annabel weeping;
+and they mingled their tears together, but tears not of sorrow.
+
+'Poor George!' said Lady Annabel, 'he will have a terrible journey to
+Sarzana, and be feeling so much for us! Perhaps he may meet them.'
+
+'I feel assured he will,' said Venetia; 'and perhaps ere long they
+will all three be here again. Joy! joy!'
+
+'They must never go in that boat again,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Oh! they never will, dearest mother, if you ask them not,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'We will send to Lerici,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Instantly,' said Venetia; 'but I dare say they already sent us a
+messenger.'
+
+'No!' said Lady Annabel; 'men treat the danger that is past very
+lightly. We shall not hear from them except in person.'
+
+Time now flew more lightly. They were both easy in their minds. The
+messenger was despatched to Lerici; but even Lerici was a considerable
+distance, and hours must elapse before his return. Still there was the
+hope of seeing them, or hearing from them in the interval.
+
+'I must go out, dear mother,' said Venetia. 'Let us both go out. It
+is now very fine. Let us go just to the ravine, for indeed it is
+impossible to remain here.'
+
+Accordingly they both went forth, and took up a position on the coast
+which commanded a view on all sides. All was radiant again, and
+comparatively calm. Venetia looked upon the sea, and said, 'Ah! I
+never shall forget a white squall in the Mediterranean, for all this
+splendour.'
+
+It was sunset: they returned home. No news yet from Lerici. Lady
+Annabel grew uneasy again. The pensive and melancholy hour encouraged
+gloom; but Venetia, who was sanguine, encouraged her mother.
+
+'Suppose they were not Englishmen in the boat,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is impossible, mother. What other two persons in this
+neighbourhood could have been in an open boat? Besides, the man said
+Englishmen. You remember, he said Englishmen. You are quite sure he
+did? It must be they. I feel as convinced of it as of your presence.'
+
+'I think there can be no doubt,' said Lady Annabel. 'I wish that the
+messenger would return.'
+
+The messenger did return. No two persons in an open boat had put into
+Lerici; but a boat, like the one described, with every stitch of
+canvas set, had passed Lerici just before the squall commenced, and,
+the people there doubted not, had made Sarzana.
+
+Lady Annabel turned pale, but Venetia was still sanguine. 'They are
+at Sarzana,' she said; 'they must be at Sarzana: you see George was
+right. He said he was sure they were at Sarzana. Besides, dear mother,
+he heard they were at Sarzana.'
+
+'And we heard they were at Lerici,' said Lady Annabel in a melancholy
+tone.
+
+And so they were, dear mother; it all agrees. The accounts are
+consistent. Do not you see how very consistent they are? They were
+seen at Lerici, and were off Lerici, but they made Sarzana; and George
+heard they were at Sarzana. I am certain they are at Sarzana. I feel
+quite easy; I feel as easy as if they were here. They are safe at
+Sarzana. But it is too far to return to-night. We shall see them at
+breakfast to-morrow, all three.'
+
+'Venetia, dearest! do not you sit up,' said her mother. 'I think there
+is a chance of George returning; I feel assured he will send to-night;
+but late, of course. Go, dearest, and sleep.'
+
+'Sleep!' thought Venetia to herself; but to please her mother she
+retired.
+
+'Good-night, my child,' said Lady Annabel. 'The moment any one
+arrives, you shall be aroused.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia, without undressing, lay down on her bed, watching for some
+sound that might give her hope of George's return. Dwelling on every
+instant, the time dragged heavily along, and she thought that the
+night had half passed when Pauncefort entered her room, and she
+learnt, to her surprise, that only an hour had elapsed since she had
+parted from her mother. This entrance of Pauncefort had given Venetia
+a momentary hope that they had returned.
+
+'I assure you, Miss Venetia, it is only an hour,' said Pauncefort,
+'and nothing could have happened. Now do try to go to sleep, that is
+a dear young lady, for I am certain sure that they will all return in
+the morning, as I am here. I was telling my lady just now, I said,
+says I, I dare say they are all very wet, and very fatigued.'
+
+'They would have returned, Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'or they would
+have sent. They are not at Sarzana.'
+
+'La! Miss Venetia, why should they be at Sarzana? Why should they not
+have gone much farther on! For, as Vicenzo was just saying to me, and
+Vicenzo knows all about the coast, with such a wind as this, I should
+not be surprised if they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'O Pauncefort!' said Venetia, 'I am sick at heart!'
+
+'Now really, Miss Venetia, do not take on so!' said Pauncefort; 'for
+do not you remember when his lordship ran away from the abbey, and
+went a gipsying, nothing would persuade poor Mrs. Cadurcis that he was
+not robbed and murdered, and yet you see he was as safe and sound all
+the time, as if he had been at Cherbury.'
+
+'Does Vicenzo really think they could have reached Leghorn?' said
+Venetia, clinging to every fragment of hope.
+
+'He is morally sure of it, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'and I feel
+quite as certain, for Vicenzo is always right.'
+
+'I had confidence about Sarzana,' said Venetia; 'I really did believe
+they were at Sarzana. If only Captain Cadurcis would return; if he
+only would return, and say they were not at Sarzana, I would try to
+believe they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'Now, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'I am certain sure that they are
+quite safe; for my lord is a very good sailor; he is, indeed; all the
+men say so; and the boat is as seaworthy a boat as boat can be. There
+is not the slightest fear, I do assure you, miss.'
+
+'Do the men say that Plantagenet is a good sailor?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Quite professional!' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and can command a
+ship as well as the best of them. They all say that.'
+
+'Hush! Pauncefort, I hear something.'
+
+'It's only my lady, miss. I know her step,'
+
+'Is my mother going to bed?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes,' said Pauncefort, 'my lady sent me here to see after you. I wish
+I could tell her you were asleep.'
+
+'It is impossible to sleep,' said Venetia, rising up from the bed,
+withdrawing the curtain, and looking at the sky. 'What a peaceful
+night! I wish my heart were like the sky. I think I will go to mamma,
+Pauncefort!'
+
+'Oh! dear, Miss Venetia, I am sure I think you had better not. If you
+and my lady, now, would only just go to sleep, and forget every thing
+till morning, it would be much better for you. Besides, I am sure if
+my lady knew you were not gone to bed already, it would only make her
+doubly anxious. Now, really, Miss Venetia, do take my advice, and just
+lie down, again. You may be sure the moment any one arrives I will let
+you know. Indeed, I shall go and tell my lady that you are lying down
+as it is, and very drowsy;' and, so saying, Mistress Pauncefort caught
+up her candle, and bustled out of the room.
+
+Venetia took up the volume of her father's poems, which Cadurcis had
+filled with his notes. How little did Plantagenet anticipate, when he
+thus expressed at Athens the passing impressions of his mind, that,
+ere a year had glided away, his fate would be so intimately blended
+with that of Herbert! It was impossible, however, for Venetia to lose
+herself in a volume which, under any other circumstances, might have
+compelled her spirit! the very associations with the writers added
+to the terrible restlessness of her mind. She paused each instant
+to listen for the wished-for sound, but a mute stillness reigned
+throughout the house and household. There was something in this deep,
+unbroken silence, at a moment when anxiety was universally diffused
+among the dwellers beneath that roof, and the heart of more than one
+of them was throbbing with all the torture of the most awful suspense,
+that fell upon Venetia's excited nerves with a very painful and even
+insufferable influence. She longed for sound, for some noise that
+might assure her she was not the victim of a trance. She closed her
+volume with energy, and she started at the sound she had herself
+created. She rose and opened the door of her chamber very softly, and
+walked into the vestibule. There were caps, and cloaks, and whips, and
+canes of Cadurcis and her father, lying about in familiar confusion.
+It seemed impossible but that they were sleeping, as usual, under the
+same roof. And where were they? That she should live and be unable to
+answer that terrible question! When she felt the utter helplessness of
+all her strong sympathy towards them, it seemed to her that she must
+go mad. She gazed around her with a wild and vacant stare. At the
+bottom of her heart there was a fear maturing into conviction too
+horrible for expression. She returned to her own chamber, and the
+exhaustion occasioned by her anxiety, and the increased coolness of
+the night, made her at length drowsy. She threw herself on the bed and
+slumbered.
+
+She started in her sleep, she awoke, she dreamed they had come home.
+She rose and looked at the progress of the night. The night was waning
+fast; a grey light was on the landscape; the point of day approached.
+Venetia stole softly to her mother's room, and entered it with a
+soundless step. Lady Annabel had not retired to bed. She had sat up
+the whole night, and was now asleep. A lamp on a small table was
+burning at her side, and she held, firmly grasped in her hand, the
+letter of her husband, which he had addressed to her at Venice, and
+which she had been evidently reading. A tear glided down the cheek of
+Venetia as she watched her mother retaining that letter with fondness
+even in her sleep, and when she thought of all the misery, and
+heartaches, and harrowing hours that had preceded its receipt, and
+which Venetia believed that letter had cured for ever. What misery
+awaited them now? Why were they watchers of the night? She shuddered
+when these dreadful questions flitted through her mind. She shuddered
+and sighed. Her mother started, and woke.
+
+'Who is there?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Venetia.'
+
+'My child, have you not slept?'
+
+'Yes, mother, and I woke refreshed, as I hope you do.'
+
+'I wake with trust in God's mercy,' said Lady Annabel. 'Tell me the
+hour.'
+
+'It is just upon dawn, mother.'
+
+'Dawn! no one has returned, or come.'
+
+'The house is still, mother.'
+
+'I would you were in bed, my child.'
+
+'Mother, I can sleep no more. I wish to be with you;' and Venetia
+seated herself at her mother's feet, and reclined her head upon her
+mother's knee.
+
+'I am glad the night has passed, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+suppressed yet solemn tone. 'It has been a trial.' And here she placed
+the letter in her bosom. Venetia could only answer with a sigh.
+
+'I wish Pauncefort would come,' said Lady Annabel; 'and yet I do not
+like to rouse her, she was up so late, poor creature! If it be the
+dawn I should like to send out messengers again; something may be
+heard at Spezzia.'
+
+'Vicenzo thinks they have gone to Leghorn, mother.'
+
+'Has he heard anything!' said Lady Annabel, eagerly.
+
+'No, but he is an excellent judge,' said Venetia, repeating all
+Pauncefort's consolatory chatter. 'He knows the coast so well. He says
+he is sure the wind would carry them on to Leghorn; and that accounts,
+you know, mother, for George not returning. They are all at Leghorn.'
+
+'Would that George would return,' murmured Lady Annabel; 'I wish I
+could see again that sailor who said they were at Lerici. He was an
+intelligent man.'
+
+'Perhaps if we send down to the bay he may be there,' said Venetia.'
+
+'Hush! I hear a step!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+Venetia sprung up and opened the door, but it was only Pauncefort in
+the vestibule.
+
+'The household are all up, my lady,' said that important personage
+entering; ''tis a beautiful morning. Vicenzo has run down to the bay,
+my lady; I sent him off immediately. Vicenzo says he is certain sure
+they are at Leghorn, my lady; and, this time three years, the very
+same thing happened. They were fishing for anchovies, my lady, close
+by, my lady, near Sarzana; two young men, or rather one about the same
+age as master, and one like my lord; cousins, my lady, and just in the
+same sort of boat, my lady; and there came on a squall, just the same
+sort of squall, my lady; and they did not return home; and everyone
+was frightened out of their wits, my lady, and their wives and
+families quite distracted; and after all they were at Leghorn; for
+this sort of wind always takes your open boats to Leghorn, Vicenzo
+says.'
+
+The sun rose, the household were all stirring, and many of them
+abroad; the common routine of domestic duty seemed, by some general
+yet not expressed understanding, to have ceased. The ladies descended
+below at a very early hour, and went forth into the valley, once the
+happy valley. What was to be its future denomination? Vicenzo returned
+from the bay, and he contrived to return with cheering intelligence.
+The master of a felucca who, in consequence of the squall had put in
+at Lerici, and in the evening dropped down to Spezzia, had met an open
+boat an hour before he reached Sarzana, and was quite confident that,
+if it had put into port, it must have been, from the speed at which it
+was going, a great distance down the coast. No wrecks had been heard
+of in the neighbourhood. This intelligence, the gladsome time of day,
+and the non-arrival of Captain Cadurcis, which according to their mood
+was always a circumstance that counted either for good or for evil,
+and the sanguine feelings which make us always cling to hope,
+altogether reassured our friends. Venetia dismissed from her mind the
+dark thought which for a moment had haunted her in the noon of night;
+and still it was a suspense, a painful, agitating suspense, but only
+suspense that yet influenced them.
+
+'Time! said Lady Annabel. 'Time! we must wait.'
+
+Venetia consoled her mother; she affected even a gaiety of spirit;
+she was sure that Vicenzo would turn out to be right, after all;
+Pauncefort said he always was right, and that they were at Leghorn.
+
+The day wore apace; the noon arrived and passed; it was even
+approaching sunset. Lady Annabel was almost afraid to counterorder the
+usual meals, lest Venetia should comprehend her secret terror; the
+very same sentiment influenced Venetia. Thus they both had submitted
+to the ceremony of breakfast, but when the hour of dinner approached
+they could neither endure the mockery. They looked at each other, and
+almost at the same time they proposed that, instead of dining, they
+should walk down to the bay.
+
+'I trust we shall at least hear something before the night,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'I confess I dread the coming night. I do not think I could
+endure it.'
+
+'The longer we do not hear, the more certain I am of their being at
+Leghorn,' said Venetia.
+
+'I have a great mind to travel there to-night,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+As they were stepping into the portico, Venetia recognised Captain
+Cadurcis in the distance. She turned pale; she would have fallen had
+she not leaned on her mother, who was not so advanced, and who had not
+seen him.
+
+'What is the matter, Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, alarmed.
+
+'He is here, he is here!'
+
+'Marmion?'
+
+'No, George. Let me sit down.'
+
+Her mother tried to support her to a chair. Lady Annabel took off her
+bonnet. She had not strength to walk forth. She could not speak. She
+sat down opposite Venetia, and her countenance pictured distress to so
+painful a degree, that at any other time Venetia would have flown to
+her, but in this crisis of suspense it was impossible. George was in
+sight; he was in the portico; he was in the room.
+
+He looked wan, haggard, and distracted. More than once he essayed to
+speak, but failed.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at him with a strange, delirious expression.
+Venetia rushed forward and seized his arm, and gazed intently on his
+face. He shrank from her glance; his frame trembled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+In the heart of the tempest Captain Cadurcis traced his way in a sea
+of vapour with extreme danger and difficulty to the shore. On his
+arrival at Spezzia, however, scarcely a house was visible, and the
+only evidence of the situation of the place was the cessation of an
+immense white surf which otherwise indicated the line of the sea, but
+the absence of which proved his contiguity to a harbour. In the thick
+fog he heard the cries and shouts of the returning fishermen, and
+of their wives and children responding from the land to their
+exclamations. He was forced, therefore, to wait at Spezzia, in an
+agony of impotent suspense, until the fury of the storm was over and
+the sky was partially cleared. At length the objects became gradually
+less obscure; he could trace the outline of the houses, and catch a
+glimpse of the water half a mile out, and soon the old castles which
+guard the entrance of the strait that leads into the gulf, looming
+in the distance, and now and then a group of human beings in the
+vanishing vapour. Of these he made some inquiries, but in vain,
+respecting the boat and his friends. He then made the brig, but could
+learn nothing except their departure in the morning. He at length
+obtained a horse and galloped along the coast towards Lerici, keeping
+a sharp look out as he proceeded and stopping at every village in his
+progress for intelligence. When he had arrived in the course of three
+hours at Lerici, the storm had abated, the sky was clear, and no
+evidence of the recent squall remained except the agitated state
+of the waves. At Lerici he could hear nothing, so he hurried on to
+Sarzana, where he learnt for the first time that an open boat,
+with its sails set, had passed more than an hour before the squall
+commenced. From Sarzana he hastened on to Lavenza, a little port, the
+nearest sea-point to Massa, and where the Carrara marble is shipped
+for England. Here also his inquiries were fruitless, and, exhausted
+by his exertions, he dismounted and rested at the inn, not only for
+repose, but to consider over the course which he should now pursue.
+The boat had not been seen off Lavenza, and the idea that they had
+made the coast towards Leghorn now occurred to him. His horse was so
+wearied that he was obliged to stop some time at Lavenza, for he could
+procure no other mode of conveyance; the night also was fast coming
+on, and to proceed to Leghorn by this dangerous route at this hour was
+impossible. At Lavenza therefore he remained, resolved to hasten
+to Leghorn at break of day. This was a most awful night. Although
+physically exhausted, Captain Cadurcis could not sleep, and, after
+some vain efforts, he quitted his restless bed on which he had laid
+down without undressing, and walked forth to the harbour. Between
+anxiety for Herbert and his cousin, and for the unhappy women whom he
+had left behind, he was nearly distracted. He gazed on the sea, as if
+some sail in sight might give him a chance of hope. His professional
+experience assured him of all the danger of the squall. He could not
+conceive how an open boat could live in such a sea, and an instant
+return to port so soon as the squall commenced, appeared the only
+chance of its salvation. Could they have reached Leghorn? It seemed
+impossible. There was no hope they could now be at Sarzana, or Lerici.
+When he contemplated the full contingency of what might have occurred,
+his mind wandered, and refused to comprehend the possibility of the
+terrible conclusion. He thought the morning would never break.
+
+There was a cavernous rock by the seashore, that jutted into the water
+like a small craggy promontory. Captain Cadurcis climbed to its top,
+and then descending, reclined himself upon an inferior portion of it,
+which formed a natural couch with the wave on each side. There, lying
+at his length, he gazed upon the moon and stars whose brightness he
+thought would never dim. The Mediterranean is a tideless sea, but the
+swell of the waves, which still set in to the shore, bore occasionally
+masses of sea-weed and other marine formations, and deposited them
+around him, plashing, as it broke against the shore, with a melancholy
+and monotonous sound. The abstraction of the scene, the hour, and the
+surrounding circumstances brought, however, no refreshment to the
+exhausted spirit of George Cadurcis. He could not think, indeed he did
+not dare to think; but the villa of the Apennines and the open boat in
+the squall flitted continually before him. His mind was feeble though
+excited, and he fell into a restless and yet unmeaning reverie. As
+long as he had been in action, as long as he had been hurrying along
+the coast, the excitement of motion, the constant exercise of his
+senses, had relieved or distracted the intolerable suspense. But this
+pause, this inevitable pause, overwhelmed him. It oppressed his spirit
+like eternity. And yet what might the morning bring? He almost wished
+that he might remain for ever on this rock watching the moon and
+stars, and that the life of the world might never recommence.
+
+He started; he had fallen into a light slumber; he had been dreaming;
+he thought he had heard the voice of Venetia calling him; he had
+forgotten where he was; he stared at the sea and sky, and recalled
+his dreadful consciousness. The wave broke with a heavy plash that
+attracted his attention: it was, indeed, that sound that had awakened
+him. He looked around; there was some object; he started wildly from
+his resting-place, sprang over the cavern, and bounded on the beach.
+It was a corpse; he is kneeling by its side. It is the corpse of his
+cousin! Lord Cadurcis was a fine swimmer, and had evidently made
+strong efforts for his life, for he was partly undressed. In all the
+insanity of hope, still wilder than despair, George Cadurcis seized
+the body and bore it some yards upon the shore. Life had been long
+extinct. The corpse was cold and stark, the eyes closed, an expression
+of energy, however, yet lingering in the fixed jaw, and the hair
+sodden with the sea. Suddenly Captain Cadurcis rushed to the inn and
+roused the household. With a distracted air, and broken speech and
+rapid motion, he communicated the catastrophe. Several persons, some
+bearing torches, others blankets and cordials, followed him instantly
+to the fatal spot. They hurried to the body, they applied all the rude
+remedies of the moment, rather from the impulse of nervous excitement
+than with any practical purpose; for the case had been indeed long
+hopeless. While Captain Cadurcis leant over the body, chafing
+the extremities in a hurried frenzy, and gazing intently on the
+countenance, a shout was heard from one of the stragglers who had
+recently arrived. The sea had washed on the beach another corpse: the
+form of Marmion Herbert. It would appear that he had made no struggle
+to save himself, for his hand was locked in his waistcoat, where, at
+the moment, he had thrust the Phaedo, showing that he had been reading
+to the last, and was meditating on immortality when he died.
+
+END OF BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+It was the commencement of autumn. The verdure of summer still
+lingered on the trees; the sky, if not so cloudless, was almost as
+refulgent as Italy; and the pigeons, bright and glancing, clustered on
+the roof of the hall of Cherbury. The steward was in attendance; the
+household, all in deep mourning, were assembled; everything was in
+readiness for the immediate arrival of Lady Annabel Herbert.
+
+''Tis nearly four years come Martinmas,' said the grey-headed butler,
+'since my lady left us.'
+
+'And no good has come of it,' said the housekeeper. 'And for my part I
+never heard of good coming from going to foreign parts.'
+
+'I shall like to see Miss Venetia again,' said a housemaid. 'Bless her
+sweet face.'
+
+'I never expected to see her Miss Venetia again from all we heard,'
+said a footman.
+
+'God's will be done!' said the grey-headed butler; 'but I hope she
+will find happiness at home. 'Tis nigh on twenty years since I first
+nursed her in these arms.'
+
+'I wonder if there is any new Lord Cadurcis,' said the footman. 'I
+think he was the last of the line.'
+
+'It would have been a happy day if I had lived to have seen the poor
+young lord marry Miss Venetia,' said the housekeeper. 'I always
+thought that match was made in heaven.'
+
+'He was a sweet-spoken young gentleman,' said the housemaid.
+
+'For my part,' said the footman, 'I should like to have seen our real
+master, Squire Herbert. He was a famous gentleman by all accounts.'
+
+'I wish they had lived quietly at home,' said the housekeeper.
+
+'I shall never forget the time when my lord returned,' said the
+grey-headed butler. 'I must say I thought it was a match.'
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort seemed to think so,' said the housemaid.
+
+'And she understands those things,' said the footman.
+
+'I see the carriage,' said a servant who was at a window in the hall.
+All immediately bustled about, and the housekeeper sent a message to
+the steward.
+
+The carriage might be just discovered at the end of the avenue. It was
+some time before it entered the iron gates that were thrown open for
+its reception. The steward stood on the steps with his hat off, the
+servants were ranged in order at the entrance. Touching their horses
+with the spur, and cracking their whips, the postilions dashed
+round the circular plot and stopped at the hall-door. Under any
+circumstances a return home after an interval of years is rather an
+awful moment; there was not a servant who was not visibly affected.
+On the outside of the carriage was a foreign servant and Mistress
+Pauncefort, who was not so profuse as might have been expected in her
+recognitions of her old friends; her countenance was graver than of
+yore. Misfortune and misery had subdued even Mistress Pauncefort. The
+foreign servant opened the door of the carriage; a young man, who was
+a stranger to the household, but who was in deep mourning, alighted,
+and then Lady Annabel appeared. The steward advanced to welcome her,
+the household bowed and curtseyed. She smiled on them for a moment
+graciously and kindly, but her countenance immediately reassumed a
+serious air, and whispering one word to the strange gentleman, she
+entered the hall alone, inviting the steward to follow her.
+
+'I hope your ladyship is well; welcome home, my lady; welcome again to
+Cherbury; a welcome return, my lady; hope Miss Venetia is quite well;
+happy to see your ladyship amongst us again, and Miss Venetia too, my
+lady.' Lady Annabel acknowledged these salutations with kindness, and
+then, saying that Miss Herbert was not very well and was fatigued with
+her journey, she dismissed her humble but trusty friends. Lady Annabel
+then turned and nodded to her fellow-traveller.
+
+Upon this Lord Cadurcis, if we must indeed use a title from which he
+himself shrank, carried a shrouded form in his arms into the hall,
+where the steward alone lingered, though withdrawn to the back part
+of the scene; and Lady Annabel, advancing to meet him, embraced his
+treasured burden, her own unhappy child.
+
+'Now, Venetia! dearest Venetia!' she said, ''tis past; we are at
+home.'
+
+Venetia leant upon her mother, but made no reply.
+
+'Upstairs, dearest,' said Lady Annabel: 'a little exertion, a very
+little.' Leaning on her mother and Lord Cadurcis, Venetia ascended the
+staircase, and they reached the terrace-room. Venetia looked around
+her as she entered the chamber; that scene of her former life,
+endeared to her by so many happy hours, and so many sweet incidents;
+that chamber where she had first seen Plantagenet. Lord Cadurcis
+supported her to a chair, and then, overwhelmed by irresistible
+emotion, she sank back in a swoon.
+
+No one was allowed to enter the room but Pauncefort. They revived her;
+Lord Cadurcis holding her hand, and touching, with a watchful finger,
+her pulse. Venetia opened her eyes, and looked around her. Her
+mind did not wander; she immediately recognised where she was, and
+recollected all that had happened. She faintly smiled, and said, in a
+low voice 'You are all too kind, and I am very weak. After our trials,
+what is this, George?' she added, struggling to appear animated; 'you
+are at length at Cherbury.'
+
+Once more at Cherbury! It was, indeed, an event that recalled a
+thousand associations. In the wild anguish of her first grief, when
+the dreadful intelligence was broken to her, if anyone had whispered
+to Venetia that she would yet find herself once more at Cherbury, she
+would have esteemed the intimation as mockery. But time and hope will
+struggle with the most poignant affliction, and their influence is
+irresistible and inevitable. From her darkened chamber in their
+Mediterranean villa, Venetia had again come forth, and crossed
+mountains, and traversed immense plains, and journeyed through many
+countries. She could not die, as she had supposed at first that she
+must, and therefore she had exerted herself to quit, and to quit
+speedily, a scene so terrible as their late abode. She was the very
+first to propose their return to England, and to that spot where she
+had passed her early life, and where she now wished to fulfil, in
+quiet and seclusion, the allotment of her remaining years; to
+meditate over the marvellous past, and cherish its sweet and bitter
+recollections. The native firmness of Lady Annabel, her long exercised
+control over her emotions, the sadness and subdued tone which the
+early incidents of her career had cast over her character, her
+profound sympathy with her daughter, and that religious consolation
+which never deserted her, had alike impelled and enabled her to bear
+up against the catastrophe with more fortitude than her child. The
+arrow, indeed, had struck Venetia with a double barb. She was the
+victim; and all the cares of Lady Annabel had been directed to soothe
+and support this stricken lamb. Yet perhaps these unhappy women must
+have sunk under their unparalleled calamities, had it not been for the
+devotion of their companion. In the despair of his first emotions,
+George Cadurcis was nearly plunging himself headlong into the wave
+that had already proved so fatal to his house. But when he thought of
+Lady Annabel and Venetia in a foreign land, without a single friend in
+their desolation, and pictured them to himself with the dreadful news
+abruptly communicated by some unfeeling stranger; and called upon,
+in the midst of their overwhelming agony, to attend to all the
+heart-rending arrangements which the discovery of the bodies of the
+beings to whom they were devoted, and in whom all their feelings were
+centred, must necessarily entail upon them, he recoiled from what he
+contemplated as an act of infamous desertion. He resolved to live, if
+only to preserve them from all their impending troubles, and with the
+hope that his exertions might tend, in however slight a degree, not
+to alleviate, for that was impossible; but to prevent the increase
+of that terrible woe, the very conception of which made his brain
+stagger. He carried the bodies, therefore, with him to Spezzia, and
+then prepared for that fatal interview, the commencement of which we
+first indicated. Yet it must be confessed that, though the bravest
+of men, his courage faltered as he entered the accustomed ravine. He
+stopped and looked down on the precipice below; he felt it utterly
+impossible to meet them; his mind nearly deserted him. Death, some
+great and universal catastrophe, an earthquake, a deluge, that would
+have buried them all in an instant and a common fate, would have been
+hailed by George Cadurcis, at that moment, as good fortune.
+
+He lurked about the ravine for nearly three hours before he could
+summon up heart for the awful interview. The position he had taken
+assured him that no one could approach the villa, to which he himself
+dared not advance. At length, in a paroxysm of energetic despair, he
+had rushed forward, met them instantly, and confessed with a whirling
+brain, and almost unconscious of his utterance, that 'they could not
+hope to see them again in this world.'
+
+What ensued must neither be attempted to be described, nor even
+remembered. It was one of those tragedies of life which enfeeble the
+most faithful memories at a blow shatter nerves beyond the faculty of
+revival, cloud the mind for ever, or turn the hair grey in an instant.
+They carried Venetia delirious to her bed. The very despair, and
+almost madness, of her daughter forced Lady Annabel to self-exertion,
+of which it was difficult to suppose that even she was capable. And
+George, too, was obliged to leave them. He stayed only the night. A
+few words passed between Lady Annabel and himself; she wished the
+bodies to be embalmed, and borne to England. There was no time to be
+lost, and there was no one to be entrusted except George. He had to
+hasten to Genoa to make all these preparations, and for two days he
+was absent from the villa. When he returned, Lady Annabel saw him, but
+Venetia was for a long time invisible. The moment she grew composed,
+she expressed a wish to her mother instantly to return to Cherbury.
+All the arrangements necessarily devolved upon George Cadurcis. It
+was his study that Lady Annabel should be troubled upon no point. The
+household were discharged, all the affairs were wound up, the felucca
+hired which was to bear them to Genoa, and in readiness, before he
+notified to them that the hour of departure had arrived. The most
+bitter circumstance was looking again upon the sea. It seemed so
+intolerable to Venetia, that their departure was delayed more than one
+day in consequence; but it was inevitable; they could reach Genoa in
+no other manner. George carried Venetia in his arms to the boat, with
+her face covered with a shawl, and bore her in the same manner to the
+hotel at Genoa, where their travelling carriage awaited them.
+
+They travelled home rapidly. All seemed to be impelled, as it were,
+by a restless desire for repose. Cherbury was the only thought in
+Venetia's mind. She observed nothing; she made no remark during their
+journey; they travelled often throughout the night; but no obstacles
+occurred, no inconveniences. There was one in this miserable society
+whose only object in life was to support Venetia under her terrible
+visitation. Silent, but with an eye that never slept, George Cadurcis
+watched Venetia as a nurse might a child. He read her thoughts, he
+anticipated her wishes without inquiring them; every arrangement was
+unobtrusively made that could possibly consult her comfort.
+
+They passed through London without stopping there. George would not
+leave them for an instant; nor would he spare a thought to his own
+affairs, though they urgently required his attention. The change in
+his position gave him no consolation; he would not allow his passport
+to be made out with his title; he shuddered at being called Lord
+Cadurcis; and the only reason that made him hesitate about attending
+them to Cherbury was its contiguity to his ancestral seat, which he
+resolved never to visit. There never in the world was a less selfish
+and more single-hearted man than George Cadurcis. Though the death of
+his cousin had invested him with one of the most ancient coronets in
+England, a noble residence and a fair estate, he would willingly have
+sacrificed his life to have recalled Plantagenet to existence, and to
+have secured the happiness of Venetia Herbert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+The reader must not suppose, from the irresistible emotion that
+overcame Venetia at the very moment of her return, that she was
+entirely prostrated by her calamities. On the contrary, her mind had
+been employed, during the whole of her journey to England, in a silent
+effort to endure her lot with resignation. She had resolved to bear up
+against her misery with fortitude, and she inherited from her mother
+sufficient firmness of mind to enable her to achieve her purpose. She
+came back to Cherbury to live with patience and submission; and though
+her dreams of happiness might be vanished for ever, to contribute as
+much as was in her power to the content of that dear and remaining
+relative who was yet spared to her, and who depended in this world
+only upon the affection of her child. The return to Cherbury was a
+pang, and it was over. Venetia struggled to avoid the habits of an
+invalid; she purposed resuming, as far as was in her power, all the
+pursuits and duties of her life; and if it were neither possible, nor
+even desirable, to forget the past, she dwelt upon it neither to sigh
+nor to murmur, but to cherish in a sweet and musing mood the ties and
+affections round which all her feelings had once gathered with so much
+enjoyment and so much hope.
+
+She rose, therefore, on the morning after her return to Cherbury, at
+least serene; and she took an early opportunity, when George and her
+mother were engaged, and absent from the terrace-room, to go forth
+alone and wander amid her old haunts. There was not a spot about the
+park and gardens, which had been favourite resorts of herself and
+Plantagenet in their childhood, that she did not visit. They were
+unchanged; as green, and bright, and still as in old days, but what
+was she? The freshness, and brilliancy, and careless happiness of her
+life were fled for ever. And here he lived, and here he roamed, and
+here his voice sounded, now in glee, now in melancholy, now in wild
+and fanciful amusement, and now pouring into her bosom all his
+domestic sorrows. It was but ten years since he first arrived at
+Cherbury, and who could have anticipated that that little, silent,
+reserved boy should, ere ten years had passed, have filled a wide and
+lofty space in the world's thought; that his existence should have
+influenced the mind of nations, and his death eclipsed their gaiety!
+His death! Terrible and disheartening thought! Plantagenet was no
+more. But he had not died without a record. His memory was embalmed
+in immortal verse, and he had breathed his passion to his Venetia in
+language that lingered in the ear, and would dwell for ever on the
+lips, of his fellow-men.
+
+Among these woods, too, had Venetia first mused over her father;
+before her rose those mysterious chambers, whose secret she had
+penetrated at the risk of her life. There were no secrets now. Was
+she happier? Now she felt that even in her early mystery there was
+delight, and that hope was veiled beneath its ominous shadow. There
+was now no future to ponder over; her hope was gone, and memory alone
+remained. All the dreams of those musing hours of her hidden reveries
+had been realised. She had seen that father, that surpassing parent,
+who had satisfied alike her heart and her imagination; she had been
+clasped to his bosom; she had lived to witness even her mother yield
+to his penitent embrace. And he too was gone; she could never meet him
+again in this world; in this world in which they had experienced such
+exquisite bliss; and now she was once more at Cherbury! Oh! give her
+back her girlhood, with all its painful mystery and harassing doubt!
+Give her again a future!
+
+She returned to the hall; she met George on the terrace, she welcomed
+him with a sweet, yet mournful smile. 'I have been very selfish,'
+she said, 'for I have been walking alone. I mean to introduce you to
+Cherbury, but I could not resist visiting some old spots.' Her voice
+faltered in these last words. They re-entered the terrace-room
+together, and joined her mother.
+
+'Nothing is changed, mamma,' said Venetia, in a more cheerful tone.
+'It is pleasant to find something that is the same.'
+
+Several days passed, and Lord Cadurcis evinced no desire to visit his
+inheritance. Yet Lady Annabel was anxious that he should do so, and
+had more than once impressed upon him the propriety. Even Venetia
+at length said to him, 'It is very selfish in us keeping you here,
+George. Your presence is a great consolation, and yet, yet, ought you
+not to visit your home?' She avoided the name of Cadurcis.
+
+'I ought, dear Venetia.' said George, 'and I will. I have promised
+Lady Annabel twenty times, but I feel a terrible disinclination.
+To-morrow, perhaps.'
+
+'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,' murmured Venetia to
+herself, 'I scarcely comprehend now what to-morrow means.' And then
+again addressing him, and with more liveliness, she said, 'We have
+only one friend in the world now, George, and I think that we ought to
+be very grateful that he is our neighbour.'
+
+'It is a consolation to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'for I cannot remain
+here, and otherwise I should scarcely know how to depart.'
+
+'I wish you would visit your home, if only for one morning,' said
+Venetia; 'if only to know how very near you are to us.'
+
+'I dread going alone,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'I cannot ask Lady Annabel
+to accompany me, because--' He hesitated.
+
+'Because?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'I cannot ask or wish her to leave you.'
+
+'You are always thinking of me, dear George,' said Venetia, artlessly.
+'I assure you, I have come back to Cherbury to be happy. I must visit
+your home some day, and I hope I shall visit it often. We will all go,
+soon,' she added.
+
+'Then I will postpone my visit to that day,' said George. 'I am in
+no humour for business, which I know awaits me there. Let me enjoy a
+little more repose at dear Cherbury.'
+
+'I have become very restless of late, I think,' said Venetia, 'but
+there is a particular spot in the garden that I wish to see. Come with
+me, George.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis was only too happy to attend her. They proceeded through
+a winding walk in the shrubberies until they arrived at a small
+and open plot of turf, where Venetia stopped. 'There are some
+associations,' she said, 'of this spot connected with both those
+friends that we have lost. I have a fancy that it should be in some
+visible manner consecrated to their memories. On this spot, George,
+Plantagenet once spoke to me of my father. I should like to raise
+their busts here; and indeed it is a fit place for such a purpose;
+for poets,' she added, faintly smiling, 'should be surrounded with
+laurels.'
+
+'I have some thoughts on this head that I am revolving in my fancy
+myself,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'but I will not speak of them now.'
+
+'Yes, now, George; for indeed it is a satisfaction for me to speak of
+them, at least with you, with one who understood them so well, and
+loved them scarcely less than I did.'
+
+George tenderly put his arm into hers and led her away. As they walked
+along, he explained to her his plans, which yet were somewhat crude,
+but which greatly interested her; but they were roused from their
+conversation by the bell of the hall sounding as if to summon them,
+and therefore they directed their way immediately to the terrace. A
+servant running met them; he brought a message from Lady Annabel.
+Their friend the Bishop of ---- had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, my little daughter,' said the good Masham, advancing as Venetia
+entered the room, and tenderly embracing her. The kind-hearted old man
+maintained a conversation on indifferent subjects with animation for
+some minutes; and thus a meeting, the anticipation of which would have
+cost Venetia hours of pain and anxiety, occurred with less uneasy
+feelings.
+
+Masham had hastened to Cherbury the moment he heard of the return of
+the Herberts to England. He did not come to console, but to enliven.
+He was well aware that even his eloquence, and all the influence of
+his piety, could not soften the irreparable past; and knowing, from
+experience, how in solitude the unhappy brood over sorrow, he fancied
+that his arrival, and perhaps his arrival only, might tend in some
+degree at this moment to their alleviation and comfort. He brought
+Lady Annabel and Venetia letters from their relations, with whom he
+had been staying at their country residence, and who were anxious that
+their unhappy kinsfolk should find change of scene under their roof.
+
+'They are very affectionate,' said Lady Annabel, 'but I rather think
+that neither Venetia nor myself feel inclined to quit Cherbury at
+present.'
+
+'Indeed not, mamma,' said Venetia. 'I hope we shall never leave home
+again.'
+
+'You must come and see me some day,' said the Bishop; then turning to
+George, whom he was glad to find here, he addressed him in a hearty
+tone, and expressed his delight at again meeting him.
+
+Insensibly to all parties this arrival of the good Masham exercised a
+beneficial influence on their spirits. They could sympathise with his
+cheerfulness, because they were convinced that he sympathised with
+their sorrow. His interesting conversation withdrew their minds from
+the painful subject on which they were always musing. It seemed
+profanation to either of the three mourners when they were together
+alone, to indulge in any topic but the absorbing one, and their utmost
+effort was to speak of the past with composure; but they all felt
+relieved, though at first unconsciously, when one, whose interest in
+their feelings could not be doubted, gave the signal of withdrawing
+their reflections from vicissitudes which it was useless to deplore.
+Even the social forms which the presence of a guest rendered
+indispensable, and the exercise of the courtesies of hospitality,
+contributed to this result. They withdrew their minds from the past.
+And the worthy Bishop, whose tact was as eminent as his good humour
+and benevolence, evincing as much delicacy of feeling as cheerfulness
+of temper, a very few days had elapsed before each of his companions
+was aware that his presence had contributed to their increased
+content.
+
+'You have not been to the abbey yet, Lord Cadurcis,' said Masham to
+him one day, as they were sitting together after dinner, the ladies
+having retired. 'You should go.'
+
+'I have been unwilling to leave them,' said George, 'and I could
+scarcely expect them to accompany me. It is a visit that must revive
+painful recollections.'
+
+'We must not dwell on the past,' said Masham; 'we must think only of
+the future.'
+
+'Venetia has no future, I fear,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Why not?' said Masham; 'she is yet a girl, and with a prospect of a
+long life. She must have a future, and I hope, and I believe, it will
+yet be a happy one.'
+
+'Alas!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'no one can form an idea of the attachment
+that subsisted between Plantagenet and Venetia. They were not common
+feelings, or the feelings of common minds, my dear lord.'
+
+'No one knew them both better than I did,' said Masham, 'not even
+yourself: they were my children.'
+
+'I feel that,' said George, 'and therefore it is a pleasure to us all
+to see you, and to speak with you.'
+
+'But we must look for consolation,' said Masham; 'to deplore is
+fruitless. If we live, we must struggle to live happily. To tell you
+the truth, though their immediate return to Cherbury was inevitable,
+and their residence here for a time is scarcely to be deprecated, I
+still hope they will not bury themselves here. For my part, after the
+necessary interval, I wish to see Venetia once more in the world.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis looked very mournful, and shook his head.
+
+'As for her dear mother, she is habituated to sorrow and
+disappointment,' said Masham. 'As long as Venetia lives Lady Annabel
+will be content. Besides, deplorable as may be the past, there must be
+solace to her in the reflection that she was reconciled to her husband
+before his death, and contributed to his happiness. Venetia is the
+stricken lamb, but Venetia is formed for happiness, and it is in the
+nature of things that she will be happy. We must not, however, yield
+unnecessarily to our feelings. A violent exertion would be unwise, but
+we should habituate ourselves gradually to the exercise of our duties,
+and to our accustomed pursuits. It would be well for you to go to
+Cadurcis. If I were you I would go to-morrow. Take advantage of my
+presence, and return and give a report of your visit. Habituate
+Venetia to talk of a spot with which ultimately she must renew her
+intimacy.'
+
+Influenced by this advice, Lord Cadurcis rose early on the next
+morning and repaired to the seat of his fathers, where hitherto his
+foot had never trod. When the circle at Cherbury assembled at their
+breakfast table he was missing, and Masham had undertaken the office
+of apprising his friends of the cause of his absence. He returned to
+dinner, and the conversation fell naturally upon the abbey, and the
+impressions he had received. It was maintained at first by Lady
+Annabel and the Bishop, but Venetia ultimately joined in it, and with
+cheerfulness. Many a trait and incident of former days was alluded to;
+they talked of Mrs. Cadurcis, whom George had never seen; they settled
+the chambers he should inhabit; they mentioned the improvements
+which Plantagenet had once contemplated, and which George must now
+accomplish.
+
+'You must go to London first,' said the Bishop; 'you have a great deal
+to do, and you should not delay such business. I think you had better
+return with me. At this time of the year you need not be long absent;
+you will not be detained; and when you return, you will find yourself
+much more at ease; for, after all, nothing is more harassing than the
+feeling, that there is business which must be attended to, and which,
+nevertheless, is neglected.'
+
+Both Lady Annabel and Venetia enforced this advice of their friend;
+and so it happened that, ere a week had elapsed, Lord Cadurcis,
+accompanying Masham, found himself once more in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Venetia was now once more alone with her mother; it was as in old
+times. Their life was the same as before the visit of Plantagenet
+previous to his going to Cambridge, except indeed that they had no
+longer a friend at Marringhurst. They missed the Sabbath visits of
+that good man; for, though his successor performed the duties of the
+day, which had been a condition when he was presented to the living,
+the friend who knew all the secrets of their hearts was absent.
+Venetia continued to bear herself with great equanimity, and the
+anxiety which she observed instantly impressed on her mother's
+countenance, the moment she fancied there was unusual gloom on the
+brow of her child, impelled Venetia doubly to exert herself to appear
+resigned. And in truth, when Lady Annabel revolved in her mind the
+mournful past, and meditated over her early and unceasing efforts
+to secure the happiness of her daughter, and then contrasted her
+aspirations with the result, she could not acquit herself of having
+been too often unconsciously instrumental in forwarding a very
+different conclusion than that for which she had laboured. This
+conviction preyed upon the mother, and the slightest evidence of
+reaction in Venetia's tranquilised demeanour occasioned her the utmost
+remorse and grief. The absence of George made both Lady Annabel and
+Venetia still more finely appreciate the solace of his society. Left
+to themselves, they felt how much they had depended on his vigilant
+and considerate attention, and how much his sweet temper and his
+unfailing sympathy had contributed to their consolation. He wrote,
+however, to Venetia by every post, and his letters, if possible,
+endeared him still more to their hearts. Unwilling to dwell upon
+their mutual sorrows, yet always expressing sufficient to prove that
+distance and absence had not impaired his sympathy, he contrived, with
+infinite delicacy, even to amuse their solitude with the adventures of
+his life of bustle. The arrival of the post was the incident of the
+day; and not merely letters arrived; one day brought books, another
+music; continually some fresh token of his thought and affection
+reached them. He was, however, only a fortnight absent; but when he
+returned, it was to Cadurcis. He called upon them the next day, and
+indeed every morning found him at Cherbury; but he returned to his
+home at night; and so, without an effort, from their guest he had
+become their neighbour.
+
+Plantagenet had left the whole of his property to his cousin: his
+mother's fortune, which, as an accessory fund, was not inconsiderable,
+besides the estate. And George intended to devote a portion of this to
+the restoration of the abbey. Venetia was to be his counsellor in this
+operation, and therefore there were ample sources of amusement for the
+remainder of the year. On a high ridge, which was one of the beacons
+of the county, and which, moreover, marked the junction of the domains
+of Cherbury and Cadurcis, it was his intention to raise a monument to
+the united memories of Marmion Herbert and Plantagenet Lord Cadurcis.
+He brought down a design with him from London, and this was the
+project which he had previously whispered to Venetia. With George for
+her companion, too, Venetia was induced to resume her rides. It was
+her part to make him acquainted with the county in which he was so
+important a resident. Time therefore, at Cherbury, on the whole,
+flowed on in a tide of tranquil pleasure; and Lady Annabel observed,
+with interest and fondness, the continual presence beneath her roof
+of one who, from the first day she had met him, had engaged her kind
+feelings, and had since become intimately endeared to her.
+
+The end of November was, however, now approaching, and Parliament
+was about to reassemble. Masham had written more than once to Lord
+Cadurcis, impressing upon him the propriety and expediency of taking
+his seat. He had shown these letters, as he showed everything, to
+Venetia, who was his counsellor on all subjects, and Venetia agreed
+with their friend.
+
+'It is right,' said Venetia; 'you have a duty to perform, and you must
+perform it. Besides, I do not wish the name of Cadurcis to sink again
+into obscurity. I shall look forward with interest to Lord Cadurcis
+taking the oaths and his seat. It will please me; it will indeed.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said George, 'I do not like to leave this place. I am
+happy, if we may be happy. This life suits me. I am a quiet man. I
+dislike London. I feel alone there.'
+
+'You can write to us; you will have a great deal to say. And I shall
+have something to say to you now. I must give you a continual report
+how they go on at the abbey. I will be your steward, and superintend
+everything.'
+
+'Ah!' said George, 'what shall I do in London without you, without
+your advice? There will be something occurring every day, and I shall
+have no one to consult. Indeed I shall feel quite miserable; I shall
+indeed.'
+
+'It is quite impossible that, with your station, and at your time of
+life, you should bury yourself in the country,' said Venetia. 'You
+have the whole world before you, and you must enjoy it. It is very
+well for mamma and myself to lead this life. I look upon ourselves as
+two nuns. If Cadurcis is an abbey, Cherbury is now a convent.'
+
+'How can a man wish to be more than happy? I am quite content here,'
+said George, 'What is London to me?'
+
+'It may be a great deal to you, more than you think,' said Venetia. 'A
+great deal awaits you yet. However, there can be no doubt you should
+take your seat. You can always return, if you wish. But take your
+seat, and cultivate dear Masham. I have the utmost confidence in his
+wisdom and goodness. You cannot have a friend more respectable. Now
+mind my advice, George.'
+
+'I always do, Venetia.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Time and Faith are the great consolers, and neither of these precious
+sources of solace were wanting to the inhabitants of Cherbury. They
+were again living alone, but their lives were cheerful; and if Venetia
+no longer indulged in a worldly and blissful future, nevertheless, in
+the society of her mother, in the resources of art and literature, in
+the diligent discharge of her duties to her humble neighbours, and in
+cherishing the memory of the departed, she experienced a life that was
+not without its tranquil pleasures. She maintained with Lord Cadurcis
+a constant correspondence; he wrote to her every day, and although
+they were separated, there was not an incident of his life, and
+scarcely a thought, of which she was not cognisant. It was with great
+difficulty that George could induce himself to remain in London; but
+Masham, who soon obtained over him all the influence which Venetia
+desired, ever opposed his return to the abbey. The good Bishop was not
+unaware of the feelings with which Lord Cadurcis looked back to the
+hall of Cherbury, and himself of a glad and sanguine temperament, he
+indulged in a belief in the consummation of all that happiness for
+which his young friend, rather sceptically, sighed. But Masham was
+aware that time could alone soften the bitterness of Venetia's sorrow,
+and prepare her for that change of life which he felt confident
+would alone ensure the happiness both of herself and her mother. He
+therefore detained Lord Cadurcis in London the whole of the sessions
+that, on his return to Cherbury, his society might be esteemed a novel
+and agreeable incident in the existence of its inhabitants, and not be
+associated merely with their calamities.
+
+It was therefore about a year after the catastrophe which had so
+suddenly changed the whole tenor of their lives, and occasioned so
+unexpected a revolution in his own position, that Lord Cadurcis
+arrived at his ancestral seat, with no intention of again speedily
+leaving it. He had long and frequently apprised his friends of his
+approaching presence, And, arriving at the abbey late at night, he was
+at Cherbury early on the following morning.
+
+Although no inconsiderable interval had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis
+had parted from the Herberts, the continual correspondence that had
+been maintained between himself and Venetia, divested his visit of the
+slightest embarrassment. They met as if they had parted yesterday,
+except perhaps with greater fondness. The chain of their feelings
+was unbroken. He was indeed welcomed, both by Lady Annabel and her
+daughter, with warm affection; and his absence had only rendered him
+dearer to them by affording an opportunity of feeling how much his
+society contributed to their felicity. Venetia was anxious to know his
+opinion of the improvements at the abbey, which she had superintended;
+but he assured her that he would examine nothing without her company,
+and ultimately they agreed to walk over to Cadurcis.
+
+It was a summer day, and they walked through that very wood wherein
+we described the journey of the child Venetia, at the commencement
+of this very history. The blue patches of wild hyacinths had all
+disappeared, but there were flowers as sweet. What if the first
+feelings of our heart fade, like the first flowers of spring,
+succeeding years, like the coming summer, may bring emotions not less
+charming, and, perchance, far more fervent!
+
+'I can scarcely believe,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I am once more
+with you. I know not what surprises me most, Venetia, that we should
+be walking once more together in the woods of Cherbury, or that I ever
+should have dared to quit them.'
+
+'And yet it was better, dear George,' said Venetia. 'You must now
+rejoice that you have fulfilled your duty, and yet you are here again.
+Besides, the abbey never would have been finished if you had remained.
+To complete all our plans, it required a mistress.'
+
+'I wish it always had one,' said George. 'Ah, Venetia! once you told
+me never to despair.'
+
+'And what have you to despair about, George?'
+
+'Heigh ho!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I never shall be able to live in this
+abbey alone.'
+
+'You should have brought a wife from London,' said Venetia.
+
+'I told you once, Venetia, that I was not a marrying man,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and certainly I never shall bring a wife from London.'
+
+'Then you cannot accustom yourself too soon to a bachelor's life,'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' said George, 'I wish I were clever; I wish I were a
+genius; I wish I were a great man.'
+
+'Why, George?'
+
+'Because, Venetia, perhaps,' and Lord Cadurcis hesitated, 'perhaps you
+would think differently of me? I mean perhaps your feelings towards me
+might; ah, Venetia! perhaps you might think me worthy of you; perhaps
+you might love me.'
+
+'I am sure, dear George, if I did not love you, I should be the most
+ungrateful of beings: you are our only friend.'
+
+'And can I never be more than a friend to you, Venetia?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, blushing very deeply.
+
+'I am sure, dear George, I should be very sorry for your sake, if you
+wished to be more,' said Venetia.
+
+'Why?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Because I should not like to see you unite your destiny with that of
+a very unfortunate, if not a very unhappy, person.'
+
+'The sweetest, the loveliest of women!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'O
+Venetia! I dare not express what I feel, still less what I could hope.
+I think so little of myself, so highly of you, that I am convinced my
+aspirations are too arrogant for me to breathe them.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you deserve to be happy,' said Venetia. 'Would that
+it were in my power to make you!'
+
+'Dearest Venetia! it is, it is,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis; then
+checking himself, as if frightened by his boldness, he added in a more
+subdued tone, 'I feel I am not worthy of you.'
+
+They stood upon the breezy down that divided the demesnes of Cherbury
+and the abbey. Beneath them rose, 'embosomed in a valley of green
+bowers,' the ancient pile lately renovated under the studious care of
+Venetia.
+
+'Ah!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'be not less kind to the master of these
+towers, than to the roof that you have fostered. You have renovated
+our halls, restore our happiness! There is an union that will bring
+consolation to more than one hearth, and baffle all the crosses of
+adverse fate. Venetia, beautiful and noble-minded Venetia, condescend
+to fulfil it!'
+
+Perhaps the reader will not be surprised that, within a few months of
+this morning walk, the hands of George, Lord Cadurcis, and Venetia
+Herbert were joined in the chapel at Cherbury by the good Masham.
+Peace be with them.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11869 ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Venetia, by Benjamin Disraeli
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Venetia
+
+Author: Benjamin Disraeli
+
+Release Date: April 2, 2004  [eBook #11869]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENETIA***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team
+
+
+
+VENETIA
+
+BY THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, K.G.
+
+1905
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  'Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child?'
+
+  'The child of love, though born in bitterness
+  And nurtured in convulsion.'
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+LORD LYNDHURST.
+
+In happier hours, when I first mentioned to you the idea of this Work,
+it was my intention, while inscribing it with your name, to have
+entered into some details as to the principles which had guided me in
+its composition, and the feelings with which I had attempted to shadow
+forth, though as 'in in a glass darkly,' two of the most renowned and
+refined spirits that have adorned these our latter days. But now I
+will only express a hope that the time may come when, in these pages,
+you may find some relaxation from the cares, and some distraction
+from the sorrows, of existence, and that you will then receive this
+dedication as a record of my respect and my affection.
+
+This Work was first published in the year 1837.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Some ten years before the revolt of our American colonies, there was
+situate in one of our midland counties, on the borders of an extensive
+forest, an ancient hall that belonged to the Herberts, but which,
+though ever well preserved, had not until that period been visited by
+any member of the family, since the exile of the Stuarts. It was an
+edifice of considerable size, built of grey stone, much covered with
+ivy, and placed upon the last gentle elevation of a long ridge of
+hills, in the centre of a crescent of woods, that far overtopped its
+clusters of tall chimneys and turreted gables. Although the principal
+chambers were on the first story, you could nevertheless step forth
+from their windows on a broad terrace, whence you descended into the
+gardens by a double flight of stone steps, exactly in the middle
+of its length. These gardens were of some extent, and filled with
+evergreen shrubberies of remarkable overgrowth, while occasionally
+turfy vistas, cut in the distant woods, came sloping down to the
+south, as if they opened to receive the sunbeam that greeted the
+genial aspect of the mansion, The ground-floor was principally
+occupied by the hall itself, which was of great dimensions, hung round
+with many a family portrait and rural picture, furnished with long
+oaken seats covered with scarlet cushions, and ornamented with a
+parti-coloured floor of alternate diamonds of black and white marble.
+From the centre of the roof of the mansion, which was always covered
+with pigeons, rose the clock-tower of the chapel, surmounted by a
+vane; and before the mansion itself was a large plot of grass, with a
+fountain in the centre, surrounded by a hedge of honeysuckle.
+
+This plot of grass was separated from an extensive park, that opened
+in front of the hall, by tall iron gates, on each of the pillars of
+which was a lion rampant supporting the escutcheon of the family. The
+deer wandered in this enclosed and well-wooded demesne, and about a
+mile from the mansion, in a direct line with the iron gates, was an
+old-fashioned lodge, which marked the limit of the park, and from
+which you emerged into a fine avenue of limes bounded on both sides
+by fields. At the termination of this avenue was a strong but simple
+gate, and a woodman's cottage; and then spread before you a vast
+landscape of open, wild lands, which seemed on one side interminable,
+while on the other the eye rested on the dark heights of the
+neighbouring forest.
+
+This picturesque and secluded abode was the residence of Lady Annabel
+Herbert and her daughter, the young and beautiful Venetia, a child, at
+the time when our history commences, of very tender age. It was nearly
+seven years since Lady Annabel and her infant daughter had sought the
+retired shades of Cherbury, which they had never since quitted. They
+lived alone and for each other; the mother educated her child, and
+the child interested her mother by her affectionate disposition,
+the development of a mind of no ordinary promise, and a sort of
+captivating grace and charming playfulness of temper, which were
+extremely delightful. Lady Annabel was still young and lovely. That
+she was wealthy her establishment clearly denoted, and she was a
+daughter of one of the haughtiest houses in the kingdom. It was
+strange then that, with all the brilliant accidents of birth, and
+beauty, and fortune, she should still, as it were in the morning of
+her life, have withdrawn to this secluded mansion, in a county where
+she was personally unknown, distant from the metropolis, estranged
+from all her own relatives and connexions, and without resource of
+even a single neighbour, for the only place of importance in her
+vicinity was uninhabited. The general impression of the villagers was
+that Lady Annabel was a widow; and yet there were some speculators
+who would shrewdly remark, that her ladyship had never worn weeds,
+although her husband could not have been long dead when she first
+arrived at Cherbury. On the whole, however, these good people were not
+very inquisitive; and it was fortunate for them, for there was little
+chance and slight means of gratifying their curiosity. The whole of
+the establishment had been formed at Cherbury, with the exception of
+her ladyship's waiting-woman, Mistress Pauncefort, and she was by far
+too great a personage to condescend to reply to any question which was
+not made to her by Lady Annabel herself.
+
+The beauty of the young Venetia was not the hereditary gift of her
+beautiful mother. It was not from Lady Annabel that Venetia Herbert
+had derived those seraphic locks that fell over her shoulders and
+down her neck in golden streams, nor that clear grey eye even, whose
+childish glance might perplex the gaze of manhood, nor that little
+aquiline nose, that gave a haughty expression to a countenance that
+had never yet dreamed of pride, nor that radiant complexion, that
+dazzled with its brilliancy, like some winged minister of Raffael or
+Correggio. The peasants that passed the lady and her daughter in their
+walks, and who blessed her as they passed, for all her grace and
+goodness, often marvelled why so fair a mother and so fair a child
+should be so dissimilar, that one indeed might be compared to a starry
+night, and the other to a sunny day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+It was a bright and soft spring morning: the dewy vistas of Cherbury
+sparkled in the sun, the cooing of the pigeons sounded around, the
+peacocks strutted about the terrace and spread their tails with
+infinite enjoyment and conscious pride, and Lady Annabel came forth
+with her little daughter, to breathe the renovating odours of the
+season. The air was scented with the violet, tufts of daffodils were
+scattered all about, and though the snowdrop had vanished, and the
+primroses were fast disappearing, their wild and shaggy leaves still
+looked picturesque and glad.
+
+'Mamma,' said the little Venetia, 'is this spring?'
+
+'This is spring, my child,' replied Lady Annabel, 'beautiful spring!
+The year is young and happy, like my little girl.'
+
+'If Venetia be like the spring, mamma is like the summer!' replied the
+child; and the mother smiled. 'And is not the summer young and happy?'
+resumed Venetia.
+
+'It is not quite so young as the spring,' said Lady Annabel, looking
+down with fondness on her little companion, 'and, I fear, not quite so
+happy.'
+
+'But it is as beautiful,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is not beauty that makes us happy,' said Lady Annabel; 'to be
+happy, my love, we must be good.'
+
+'Am I good?' said Venetia.
+
+'Very good,' said Lady Annabel
+
+'I am very happy,' said Venetia; 'I wonder whether, if I be always
+good, I shall always be happy?'
+
+'You cannot be happy without being good, my love; but happiness
+depends upon the will of God. If you be good he will guard over you.'
+
+'What can make me unhappy, mamma?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'An evil conscience, my love.'
+
+'Conscience!' said Venetia: 'what is conscience?'
+
+'You are not yet quite old enough to understand,' said Lady Annabel,
+'but some day I will teach you. Mamma is now going to take a long
+walk, and Venetia shall walk with her.'
+
+So saying, the Lady Annabel summoned Mistress Pauncefort, a
+gentlewoman of not more discreet years than might have been expected
+in the attendant of so young a mistress; but one well qualified for
+her office, very zealous and devoted, somewhat consequential, full of
+energy and decision, capable of directing, fond of giving advice, and
+habituated to command. The Lady Annabel, leading her daughter, and
+accompanied by her faithful bloodhound, Marmion, ascended one of those
+sloping vistas that we have noticed, Mistress Pauncefort following
+them about a pace behind, and after her a groom, at a respectful
+distance, leading Miss Herbert's donkey.
+
+They soon entered a winding path through the wood which was the
+background of their dwelling. Lady Annabel was silent, and lost in her
+reflections; Venetia plucked the beautiful wild hyacinths that then
+abounded in the wood in such profusion, that their beds spread like
+patches of blue enamel, and gave them to Mistress Pauncefort, who, as
+the collection increased, handed them over to the groom; who, in turn,
+deposited them in the wicker seat prepared for his young mistress. The
+bright sun bursting through the tender foliage of the year, the clear
+and genial air, the singing of the birds, and the wild and joyous
+exclamations of Venetia, as she gathered her flowers, made it a
+cheerful party, notwithstanding the silence of its mistress.
+
+When they emerged from the wood, they found themselves on the brow
+of the hill, a small down, over which Venetia ran, exulting in the
+healthy breeze which, at this exposed height, was strong and fresh.
+As they advanced to the opposite declivity to that which they had
+ascended, a wide and peculiar landscape opened before them. The
+extreme distance was formed by an undulating ridge of lofty and savage
+hills; nearer than these were gentler elevations, partially wooded;
+and at their base was a rich valley, its green meads fed by a clear
+and rapid stream, which glittered in the sun as it coursed on, losing
+itself at length in a wild and sedgy lake that formed the furthest
+limit of a widely-spreading park. In the centre of this park, and
+not very remote from the banks of the rivulet, was an ancient gothic
+building, that had once been an abbey of great repute and wealth, and
+had not much suffered in its external character, by having served for
+nearly two centuries and a half as the principal dwelling of an old
+baronial family.
+
+Descending the downy hill, that here and there was studded with fine
+old trees, enriching by their presence the view from the abbey, Lady
+Annabel and her party entered the meads, and, skirting the lake,
+approached the venerable walls without crossing the stream.
+
+It was difficult to conceive a scene more silent and more desolate.
+There was no sign of life, and not a sound save the occasional
+cawing of a rook. Advancing towards the abbey, they passed a pile of
+buildings that, in the summer, might be screened from sight by the
+foliage of a group of elms, too scanty at present to veil their
+desolation. Wide gaps in the roof proved that the vast and dreary
+stables were no longer used; there were empty granaries, whose doors
+had fallen from their hinges; the gate of the courtyard was prostrate
+on the ground; and the silent clock that once adorned the cupola over
+the noble entrance arch, had long lost its index. Even the litter of
+the yard appeared dusty and grey with age. You felt sure no human foot
+could have disturbed it for years. At the back of these buildings were
+nailed the trophies of the gamekeeper: hundreds of wild cats, dried to
+blackness, stretched their downward heads and legs from the mouldering
+wall; hawks, magpies, and jays hung in tattered remnants! but all
+grey, and even green, with age; and the heads of birds in plenteous
+rows, nailed beak upward, and so dried and shrivelled by the suns and
+winds and frosts of many seasons, that their distinctive characters
+were lost.
+
+'Do you know, my good Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'that I have
+an odd fancy to-day to force an entrance into the old abbey. It is
+strange, fond as I am of this walk, that we have never yet entered it.
+Do you recollect our last vain efforts? Shall we be more fortunate
+this time, think you?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort smiled and smirked, and, advancing to the old
+gloomy porch, gave a determined ring at the bell. Its sound might
+be heard echoing through the old cloisters, but a considerable time
+elapsed without any other effect being produced. Perhaps Lady Annabel
+would have now given up the attempt, but the little Venetia expressed
+so much regret at the disappointment, that her mother directed the
+groom to reconnoitre in the neighbourhood, and see if it were possible
+to discover any person connected with the mansion.
+
+'I doubt our luck, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'for they do
+say that the abbey is quite uninhabited.'
+
+''Tis a pity,' said Lady Annabel, 'for, with all its desolation, there
+is something about this spot which ever greatly interests me.'
+
+'Mamma, why does no one live here?' said Venetia.
+
+'The master of the abbey lives abroad, my child.'
+
+'Why does he, mamma?'
+
+'Never ask questions, Miss Venetia,' said Mistress Pauncefort, in a
+hushed and solemn tone; 'it is not pretty.' Lady Annabel had moved
+away.
+
+The groom returned, and said he had met an old man, picking
+water-cresses, and he was the only person who lived in the abbey,
+except his wife, and she was bedridden. The old man had promised to
+admit them when he had completed his task, but not before, and the
+groom feared it would be some time before he arrived.
+
+'Come, Pauncefort, rest yourself on this bench,' said Lady Annabel,
+seating herself in the porch; 'and Venetia, my child, come hither to
+me.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'what is the name of the gentleman to whom this
+abbey belongs?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, love.'
+
+'I should like to know why Lord Cadurcis lives abroad?' said Venetia,
+musingly.
+
+'There are many reasons why persons may choose to quit their native
+country, and dwell in another, my love,' said Lady Annabel, very
+quietly; 'some change the climate for their health.'
+
+'Did Lord Cadurcis, mamma?' asked Venetia.
+
+'I do not know Lord Cadurcis, dear, or anything of him, except that he
+is a very old man, and has no family.'
+
+At this moment there was a sound of bars and bolts withdrawn, and the
+falling of a chain, and at length the massy door slowly opened, and
+the old man appeared and beckoned to them to enter.
+
+''Tis eight years, come Martinmas, since I opened this door,' said the
+old man, 'and it sticks a bit. You must walk about by yourselves, for
+I have no breath, and my mistress is bedridden. There, straight down
+the cloister, you can't miss your way; there is not much to see.'
+
+The interior of the abbey formed a quadrangle, surrounded by the
+cloisters, and in this inner court was a curious fountain, carved with
+exquisite skill by some gothic artist in one of those capricious moods
+of sportive invention that produced those grotesque medleys for which
+the feudal sculptor was celebrated. Not a sound was heard except the
+fall of the fountain and the light echoes that its voice called up.
+
+The staircase led Lady Annabel and her party through several small
+rooms, scantily garnished with ancient furniture, in some of which
+were portraits of the family, until they at length entered a noble
+saloon, once the refectory of the abbey, and not deficient in
+splendour, though sadly soiled and worm-eaten. It was hung with
+tapestry representing the Cartoons of Raffael, and their still vivid
+colours contrasted with the faded hangings and the dingy damask of the
+chairs and sofas. A mass of Cromwellian armour was huddled together in
+a corner of a long monkish gallery, with a standard, encrusted with
+dust, and a couple of old drums, one broken. From one of the windows
+they had a good view of the old walled garden, which did not
+tempt them to enter it; it was a wilderness, the walks no longer
+distinguishable from the rank vegetation of the once cultivated lawns;
+the terraces choked up with the unchecked shrubberies; and here and
+there a leaden statue, a goddess or a satyr, prostrate, and covered
+with moss and lichen.
+
+'It makes me melancholy,' said Lady Annabel; 'let us return.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'are there any ghosts in this abbey?'
+
+'You may well ask me, love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'it seems a
+spell-bound place. But, Venetia, I have often told you there are no
+such things as ghosts.'
+
+'Is it naughty to believe in ghosts, mamma, for I cannot help
+believing in them?'
+
+'When you are older, and have more knowledge, you will not believe in
+them, Venetia,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+Our friends left Cadurcis Abbey. Venetia mounted her donkey, her
+mother walked by her side; the sun was beginning to decline when they
+again reached Cherbury, and the air was brisk. Lady Annabel was glad
+to find herself by her fireside in her little terrace-room, and
+Venetia fetching her book, read to her mother until their dinner hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Two serene and innocent years had glided away at Cherbury since this
+morning ramble to Cadurcis Abbey, and Venetia had grown in loveliness,
+in goodness, and intelligence. Her lively and somewhat precocious mind
+had become greatly developed; and, though she was only nine years of
+age, it scarcely needed the affection of a mother to find in her an
+interesting and engaging companion. Although feminine education was
+little regarded in those days, that of Lady Annabel had been an
+exception to the general practice of society. She had been brought
+up with the consciousness of other objects of female attainment and
+accomplishment than embroidery, 'the complete art of making pastry,'
+and reading 'The Whole Duty of Man.' She had profited, when a child,
+by the guidance of her brother's tutor, who had bestowed no unfruitful
+pains upon no ordinary capacity. She was a good linguist, a fine
+musician, was well read in our elder poets and their Italian
+originals, was no unskilful artist, and had acquired some knowledge
+of botany when wandering, as a girl, in her native woods. Since her
+retirement to Cherbury, reading had been her chief resource. The hall
+contained a library whose shelves, indeed, were more full than choice;
+but, amid folios of theological controversy and civil law, there might
+be found the first editions of most of the celebrated writers of the
+reign of Anne, which the contemporary proprietor of Cherbury, a man of
+wit and fashion in his day, had duly collected in his yearly visits to
+the metropolis, and finally deposited in the family book-room.
+
+The education of her daughter was not only the principal duty of Lady
+Annabel, but her chief delight. To cultivate the nascent intelligence
+of a child, in those days, was not the mere piece of scientific
+mechanism that the admirable labours of so many ingenious writers have
+since permitted it comparatively to become. In those days there was no
+Mrs. Barbauld, no Madame de Genlis, no Miss Edgeworth; no 'Evenings at
+Home,' no 'Children's Friend,' no 'Parent's Assistant.' Venetia loved
+her book; indeed, she was never happier than when reading; but she
+soon recoiled from the gilt and Lilliputian volumes of the good Mr.
+Newbury, and her mind required some more substantial excitement than
+'Tom Thumb,' or even 'Goody Two-Shoes.' 'The Seven Champions' was
+a great resource and a great favourite; but it required all the
+vigilance of a mother to eradicate the false impressions which such
+studies were continually making on so tender a student; and to
+disenchant, by rational discussion, the fascinated imagination of her
+child. Lady Annabel endeavoured to find some substitute in the essays
+of Addison and Steele; but they required more knowledge of the
+every-day world for their enjoyment than an infant, bred in such
+seclusion, could at present afford; and at last Venetia lost herself
+in the wildering pages of Clelia and the Arcadia, which she pored over
+with a rapt and ecstatic spirit, that would not comprehend the warning
+scepticism of her parent. Let us picture to ourselves the high-bred
+Lady Annabel in the terrace-room of her ancient hall, working at
+her tapestry, and, seated at her feet, her little daughter Venetia,
+reading aloud the Arcadia! The peacocks have jumped up on the
+window-sill, to look at their friends, who love to feed them, and by
+their pecking have aroused the bloodhound crouching at Lady Annabel's
+feet. And Venetia looks up from her folio with a flushed and smiling
+face to catch the sympathy of her mother, who rewards her daughter's
+study with a kiss. Ah! there are no such mothers and no such daughters
+now!
+
+Thus it will be seen that the life and studies of Venetia tended
+rather dangerously, in spite of all the care of her mother, to the
+development of her imagination, in case indeed she possessed that
+terrible and fatal gift. She passed her days in unbroken solitude, or
+broken only by affections which softened her heart, and in a scene
+which itself might well promote any predisposition of the kind;
+beautiful and picturesque objects surrounded her on all sides; she
+wandered, at it were, in an enchanted wilderness, and watched the deer
+reposing under the green shadow of stately trees; the old hall
+itself was calculated to excite mysterious curiosity; one wing was
+uninhabited and shut up; each morning and evening she repaired with
+her mother and the household through long galleries to the chapel,
+where she knelt to her devotions, illumined by a window blazoned with
+the arms of that illustrious family of which she was a member, and
+of which she knew nothing. She had an indefinite and painful
+consciousness that she had been early checked in the natural inquiries
+which occur to every child; she had insensibly been trained to speak
+only of what she saw; and when she listened, at night, to the long
+ivy rustling about the windows, and the wild owls hooting about the
+mansion, with their pining, melancholy voices, she might have been
+excused for believing in those spirits, which her mother warned her to
+discredit; or she forgot these mournful impressions in dreams, caught
+from her romantic volumes, of bright knights and beautiful damsels.
+
+Only one event of importance had occurred at Cherbury during these two
+years, if indeed that be not too strong a phrase to use in reference
+to an occurrence which occasioned so slight and passing an interest.
+Lord Cadurcis had died. He had left his considerable property to his
+natural children, but the abbey had descended with the title to a very
+distant relative. The circle at Cherbury had heard, and that was all,
+that the new lord was a minor, a little boy, indeed very little older
+than Venetia herself; but this information produced no impression. The
+abbey was still deserted and desolate as ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Every Sunday afternoon, the rector of a neighbouring though still
+somewhat distant parish, of which the rich living was in the gift of
+the Herberts, came to perform divine service at Cherbury. It was a
+subject of deep regret to Lady Annabel that herself and her family
+were debarred from the advantage of more frequent and convenient
+spiritual consolation; but, at this time, the parochial discipline
+of the Church of England was not so strict as it fortunately is at
+present. Cherbury, though a vicarage, possessed neither parish church,
+nor a residence for the clergyman; nor was there indeed a village. The
+peasants on the estate, or labourers as they are now styled, a term
+whose introduction into our rural world is much to be lamented, lived
+in the respective farmhouses on the lands which they cultivated. These
+were scattered about at considerable distances, and many of their
+inmates found it more convenient to attend the church of the
+contiguous parish than to repair to the hall chapel, where the
+household and the dwellers in the few cottages scattered about the
+park and woods always assembled. The Lady Annabel, whose lot it had
+been in life to find her best consolation in religion, and who was
+influenced by not only a sincere but even a severe piety, had no other
+alternative, therefore, but engaging a chaplain; but this, after much
+consideration, she had resolved not to do. She was indeed her own
+chaplain, herself performing each day such parts of our morning and
+evening service whose celebration becomes a laic, and reading portions
+from the writings of those eminent divines who, from the Restoration
+to the conclusion of the last reign, have so eminently distinguished
+the communion of our national Church.
+
+Each Sunday, after the performance of divine service, the Rev. Dr.
+Masham dined with the family, and he was the only guest at Cherbury
+Venetia ever remembered seeing. The Doctor was a regular orthodox
+divine of the eighteenth century; with a large cauliflower wig,
+shovel-hat, and huge knee-buckles, barely covered by his top-boots;
+learned, jovial, humorous, and somewhat courtly; truly pious, but not
+enthusiastic; not forgetful of his tithes, but generous and charitable
+when they were once paid; never neglecting the sick, yet occasionally
+following a fox; a fine scholar, an active magistrate, and a good
+shot; dreading the Pope, and hating the Presbyterians.
+
+The Doctor was attached to the Herbert family not merely because they
+had given him a good living. He had a great reverence for an old
+English race, and turned up his nose at the Walpolian loanmongers.
+Lady Annabel, too, so beautiful, so dignified, so amiable, and highly
+bred, and, above all, so pious, had won his regard. He was not a
+little proud, too, that he was the only person in the county who had
+the honour of her acquaintance, and yet was disinterested enough to
+regret that he led so secluded a life, and often lamented that nothing
+would induce her to show her elegant person on a racecourse, or to
+attend an assize ball, an assembly which was then becoming much the
+fashion. The little Venetia was a charming child, and the kind-hearted
+Doctor, though a bachelor, loved children.
+
+  O! matre pulchrâ, filia pulchrior,
+
+was the Rev. Dr. Masham's apposite and favourite quotation after his
+weekly visit to Cherbury.
+
+Divine service was concluded; the Doctor had preached a capital
+sermon; for he had been one of the shining lights of his university
+until his rich but isolating preferment had apparently closed the
+great career which it was once supposed awaited him. The accustomed
+walk on the terrace was completed, and dinner was announced. This meal
+was always celebrated at Cherbury, where new fashions stole down with
+a lingering pace, in the great hall itself. An ample table was placed
+in the centre on a mat of rushes, sheltered by a large screen covered
+with huge maps of the shire and the neighbouring counties. The Lady
+Annabel and her good pastor seated themselves at each end of the
+table, while Venetia, mounted on a high chair, was waited on by
+Mistress Pauncefort, who never condescended by any chance attention to
+notice the presence of any other individual but her little charge, on
+whose chair she just leaned with an air of condescending devotion.
+The butler stood behind his lady, and two other servants watched the
+Doctor; rural bodies all, but decked on this day in gorgeous livery
+coats of blue and silver, which had been made originally for men of
+very different size and bearing. Simple as was the usual diet at
+Cherbury the cook was permitted on Sunday full play to her art, which,
+in the eighteenth century, indulged in the production of dishes more
+numerous and substantial than our refined tastes could at present
+tolerate. The Doctor appreciated a good dinner, and his countenance
+glistened with approbation as he surveyed the ample tureen of potage
+royal, with a boned duck swimming in its centre. Before him still
+scowled in death the grim countenance of a huge roast pike, flanked
+on one side by a leg of mutton _à-la-daube_, and on the other by
+the tempting delicacies of bombarded veal. To these succeeded that
+masterpiece of the culinary art, a grand battalia pie, in which the
+bodies of chickens, pigeons, and rabbits were embalmed in spices,
+cocks' combs, and savoury balls, and well bedewed with one of those
+rich sauces of claret, anchovy, and sweet herbs, in which our
+great-grandfathers delighted, and which was technically termed a Lear.
+But the grand essay of skill was the cover of this pasty, whereon the
+curious cook had contrived to represent all the once-living forms that
+were now entombed in that gorgeous sepulchre. A Florentine tourte, or
+tansy, an old English custard, a more refined blamango, and a riband
+jelly of many colours, offered a pleasant relief after these vaster
+inventions, and the repast closed with a dish of oyster loaves and a
+pompetone of larks.
+
+Notwithstanding the abstemiousness of his hostess, the Doctor was
+never deterred from doing justice to her hospitality. Few were the
+dishes that ever escaped him. The demon dyspepsia had not waved its
+fell wings over the eighteenth century, and wonderful were the feats
+then achieved by a country gentleman with the united aid of a good
+digestion and a good conscience.
+
+The servants had retired, and Dr. Masham had taken his last glass
+of port, and then he rang a bell on the table, and, I trust my fair
+readers will not be frightened from proceeding with this history, a
+servant brought him his pipe. The pipe was well stuffed, duly lighted,
+and duly puffed; and then, taking it from his mouth, the Doctor spoke.
+
+'And so, my honoured lady, you have got a neighbour at last.'
+
+'Indeed!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+But the claims of the pipe prevented the good Doctor from too quickly
+satisfying her natural curiosity. Another puff or two, and he then
+continued.
+
+'Yes,' said he, 'the old abbey has at last found a tenant.'
+
+'A tenant, Doctor?'
+
+'Ay! the best tenant in the world: its proprietor.'
+
+'You quite surprise me. When did this occur?'
+
+'They have been there these three days; I have paid them a visit. Mrs.
+Cadurcis has come to live at the abbey with the little lord.'
+
+'This is indeed news to us,' said Lady Annabel; 'and what kind of
+people are they?'
+
+'You know, my dear madam,' said the Doctor, just touching the ash of
+his pipe with his tobacco-stopper of chased silver, 'that the present
+lord is a very distant relative of the late one?'
+
+Lady Annabel bowed assent.
+
+'The late lord,' continued the Doctor, 'who was as strange and
+wrong-headed a man as ever breathed, though I trust he is in the
+kingdom of heaven for all that, left all his property to his unlawful
+children, with the exception of this estate entailed on the title, as
+all estates should be, 'Tis a fine place, but no great rental. I doubt
+whether 'tis more than a clear twelve hundred a-year.'
+
+'And Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Was an heiress,' replied the Doctor, 'and the late Mr. Cadurcis a
+spendrift. He was a bad manager, and, worse, a bad husband. Providence
+was pleased to summon him suddenly from this mortal scene, but not
+before he had dissipated the greater part of his wife's means. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, since she was a widow, has lived in strict seclusion with
+her little boy, as you may, my dear lady, with your dear little girl.
+But I am afraid,' said the Doctor, shaking his head, 'she has not
+been in the habit of dining so well as we have to-day. A very
+limited income, my dear madam; a very limited income indeed. And
+the guardians, I am told, will only allow the little lord a hundred
+a-year; but, on her own income, whatever it may be, and that addition,
+she has resolved to live at the abbey; and I believe, I believe she
+has it rent-free; but I don't know.'
+
+'Poor woman!' said Lady Annabel, and not without a sigh. 'I trust her
+child is her consolation.'
+
+Venetia had not spoken during this conversation, but she had listened
+to it very attentively. At length she said, 'Mamma, is not a widow a
+wife that has lost her husband?'
+
+'You are right, my dear,' said Lady Annabel, rather gravely.
+
+Venetia mused a moment, and then replied, 'Pray, mamma, are you a
+widow?'
+
+'My dear little girl,' said Dr. Masham, 'go and give that beautiful
+peacock a pretty piece of cake.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor rose from the table with Venetia, and took
+a turn in the park, while the Doctor's horses were getting ready.
+
+'I think, my good lady,' said the Doctor, 'it would be but an act of
+Christian charity to call upon Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'I was thinking the same,' said Lady Annabel; 'I am interested by what
+you have told me of her history and fortunes. We have some woes in
+common; I hope some joys. It seems that this case should indeed be an
+exception to my rule.'
+
+'I would not ask you to sacrifice your inclinations to the mere
+pleasures of the world,' said the Doctor: 'but duties, my dear lady,
+duties; there are such things as duties to our neighbour; and here is
+a case where, believe me, they might be fulfilled.'
+
+The Doctor's horses now appeared. Both master and groom wore their
+pistols in their holsters. The Doctor shook hands warmly with Lady
+Annabel, and patted Venetia on her head, as she ran up from a little
+distance, with an eager countenance, to receive her accustomed
+blessing. Then mounting his stout mare, he once more waived his hand
+with an air of courtliness to his hostess, and was soon out of sight.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia returned to the terrace-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+'And so I would, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, when Lady Annabel
+communicated to her faithful attendant, at night, the news of the
+arrival of the Cadurcis family at the abbey, and her intention of
+paying Mrs. Cadurcis a visit; 'and so I would, my lady,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, 'and it would be but an act of Christian charity after
+all, as the Doctor says; for although it is not for me to complain
+when my betters are satisfied, and after all I am always content, if
+your ladyship be; still there is no denying the fact, that this is
+a terrible lonesome life after all. And I cannot help thinking your
+ladyship has not been looking so well of late, and a little society
+would do your ladyship good; and Miss Venetia too, after all, she
+wants a playfellow; I am certain sure that I was as tired of playing
+at ball with her this morning as if I had never sat down in my born
+days; and I dare say the little lord will play with her all day long.'
+
+'If I thought that this visit would lead to what is understood by the
+word society, my good Pauncefort, I certainly should refrain from
+paying it,' said Lady Annabel, very quietly.
+
+'Oh! Lord, dear my lady, I was not for a moment dreaming of any such
+thing,' replied Mistress Pauncefort; 'society, I know as well as any
+one, means grand balls, Ranelagh, and the masquerades. I can't abide
+the thought of them, I do assure your ladyship; all I meant was that a
+quiet dinner now and then with a few friends, a dance perhaps in the
+evening, or a hand of whist, or a game of romps at Christmas, when the
+abbey will of course be quite full, a--'
+
+'I believe there is as little chance of the abbey being full at
+Christmas, or any other time, as there is of Cherbury.' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Mrs. Cadurcis is a widow, with a very slender fortune. Her
+son will not enjoy his estate until he is of age, and its rental is
+small. I am led to believe that they will live quite as quietly as
+ourselves; and when I spoke of Christian charity, I was thinking only
+of kindness towards them, and not of amusement for ourselves.'
+
+'Well, my lady, your la'ship knows best,' replied Mistress Pauncefort,
+evidently very disappointed; for she had indulged in momentary visions
+of noble visitors and noble valets; 'I am always content, you know,
+when your la'ship is; but, I must say, I think it is very odd for a
+lord to be so poor. I never heard of such a thing. I think they will
+turn out richer than you have an idea, my lady. Your la'ship knows
+'tis quite a saying, "As rich as a lord."'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled, but did not reply.
+
+The next morning the fawn-coloured chariot, which had rarely been used
+since Lady Annabel's arrival at Cherbury, and four black long-tailed
+coach-horses, that from absolute necessity had been degraded, in
+the interval, to the service of the cart and the plough, made their
+appearance, after much bustle and effort, before the hall-door.
+Although a morning's stroll from Cherbury through the woods, Cadurcis
+was distant nearly ten miles by the road, and that road was in great
+part impassable, save in favourable seasons. This visit, therefore,
+was an expedition; and Lady Annabel, fearing the fatigue for a child,
+determined to leave Venetia at home, from whom she had actually never
+been separated one hour in her life. Venetia could not refrain from
+shedding a tear when her mother embraced and quitted her, and begged,
+as a last favour, that she might accompany her through the park to
+the avenue lodge. So Pauncefort and herself entered the chariot, that
+rocked like a ship, in spite of all the skill of the coachman and the
+postilion.
+
+Venetia walked home with Mistress Pauncefort, but Lady Annabel's
+little daughter was not in her usual lively spirits; many a butterfly
+glanced around without attracting her pursuit, and the deer trooped
+by without eliciting a single observation. At length she said, in a
+thoughtful tone, 'Mistress Pauncefort, I should have liked to have
+gone and seen the little boy.'
+
+'You shall go and see him another day, Miss,' replied her attendant.
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'are you a widow?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort almost started; had the inquiry been made by a
+man, she would almost have supposed he was going to be very rude. She
+was indeed much surprised.
+
+'And pray, Miss Venetia, what could put it in your head to ask such an
+odd question?' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'A widow! Miss Venetia;
+I have never yet changed my name, and I shall not in a hurry, that I
+can tell you.'
+
+'Do widows change their names?' said Venetia.
+
+'All women change their names when they marry,' responded Mistress
+Pauncefort.
+
+'Is mamma married?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'La! Miss Venetia. Well, to be sure, you do ask the strangest
+questions. Married! to be sure she is married,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, exceedingly flustered.
+
+'And whom is she married to?' pursued the unwearied Venetia.
+
+'Your papa, to be sure,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing up to her
+eyes, and looking very confused; 'that is to say, Miss Venetia, you
+are never to ask questions about such subjects. Have not I often told
+you it is not pretty?'
+
+'Why is it not pretty?' said Venetia.
+
+'Because it is not proper,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'because your
+mamma does not like you to ask such questions, and she will be very
+angry with me for answering them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I tell you what, Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'I think mamma
+is a widow.'
+
+'And what then, Miss Venetia? There is no shame in that.'
+
+'Shame!' exclaimed Venetia. 'What is shame?'
+
+'Look, there is a pretty butterfly!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort.
+'Did you ever see such a pretty butterfly, Miss?'
+
+'I do not care about butterflies to-day, Mistress Pauncefort; I like
+to talk about widows.'
+
+'Was there ever such a child!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, with a
+wondering glance.
+
+'I must have had a papa,' said Venetia; 'all the ladies I read about
+had papas, and married husbands. Then whom did my mamma marry?'
+
+'Lord! Miss Venetia, you know very well your mamma always tells
+you that all those books you read are a pack of stories,' observed
+Mistress Pauncefort, with an air of triumphant art.
+
+'There never were such persons, perhaps,' said Venetia, 'but it is not
+true that there never were such things as papas and husbands, for all
+people have papas; you must have had a papa, Mistress Pauncefort?'
+
+'To be sure I had,' said Mistress Pauncefort, bridling up.
+
+'And a mamma too?' said Venetia.
+
+'As honest a woman as ever lived,' said Mistress Pauncefort.
+
+'Then if I have no papa, mamma must be a wife that has lost her
+husband, and that, mamma told me at dinner yesterday, was a widow.'
+
+'Was the like ever seen!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'And what
+then, Miss Venetia?'
+
+'It seems to me so odd that only two people should live here, and both
+be widows,' said Venetia, 'and both have a little child; the only
+difference is, that one is a little boy, and I am a little girl.'
+
+'When ladies lose their husbands, they do not like to have their names
+mentioned,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and so you must never talk of
+your papa to my lady, and that is the truth.'
+
+'I will not now,' said Venetia.
+
+When they returned home, Mistress Pauncefort brought her work, and
+seated herself on the terrace, that she might not lose sight of her
+charge. Venetia played about for some little time; she made a castle
+behind a tree, and fancied she was a knight, and then a lady, and
+conjured up an ogre in the neighbouring shrubbery; but these daydreams
+did not amuse her as much as usual. She went and fetched her book, but
+even 'The Seven Champions' could not interest her. Her eye was fixed
+upon the page, and apparently she was absorbed in her pursuit, but
+her mind wandered, and the page was never turned. She indulged in an
+unconscious reverie; her fancy was with her mother on her visit; the
+old abbey rose up before her: she painted the scene without an effort:
+the court, with the fountain; the grand room, with the tapestry
+hangings; that desolate garden, with the fallen statues; and that
+long, gloomy gallery. And in all these scenes appeared that little
+boy, who, somehow or other, seemed wonderfully blended with her
+imaginings. It was a very long day this; Venetia dined along with
+Mistress Pauncefort; the time hung very heavy; at length she fell
+asleep in Mistress Pauncefort's lap. A sound roused her: the carriage
+had returned; she ran to greet her mother, but there was no news; Mrs.
+Cadurcis had been absent; she had gone to a distant town to buy some
+furniture; and, after all, Lady Annabel had not seen the little boy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+A few days after the visit to Cadurcis, when Lady Annabel was sitting
+alone, a postchaise drove up to the hall, whence issued a short and
+stout woman with a rubicund countenance, and dressed in a style which
+remarkably blended the shabby with the tawdry. She was accompanied
+by a boy between eleven and twelve years of age, whose appearance,
+however, much contrasted with that of his mother, for he was pale and
+slender, with long curling black hair and large black eyes, which
+occasionally, by their transient flashes, agreeably relieved a face
+the general expression of which might be esteemed somewhat shy and
+sullen. The lady, of course, was Mrs. Cadurcis, who was received by
+Lady Annabel with the greatest courtesy.
+
+'A terrible journey,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, fanning herself as she
+took her seat, 'and so very hot! Plantagenet, my love, make your
+bow! Have not I always told you to make a bow when you enter a room,
+especially where there are strangers? This is Lady Annabel Herbert,
+who was so kind as to call upon us. Make your bow to Lady Annabel.'
+
+The boy gave a sort of sulky nod, but Lady Annabel received it so
+graciously and expressed herself so kindly to him that his features
+relaxed a little, though he was quite silent and sat on the edge of
+his chair, the picture of dogged indifference.
+
+'Charming country, Lady Annabel,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but worse
+roads, if possible, than we had in Northumberland, where, indeed,
+there were no roads at all. Cherbury a delightful place, very unlike
+the abbey; dreadfully lonesome I assure you I find it, Lady Annabel.
+Great change for us from a little town and all our kind neighbours.
+Very different from Morpeth; is it not, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I hate Morpeth,' said the boy.
+
+'Hate Morpeth!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'well, I am sure, that
+is very ungrateful, with so many kind friends as we always found.
+Besides, Plantagenet, have I not always told you that you are to hate
+nothing? It is very wicked. The trouble it costs me, Lady Annabel, to
+educate this dear child!' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, turning to Lady
+Annabel, and speaking in a semi-tone. 'I have done it all myself, I
+assure you; and, when he likes, he can be as good as any one. Can't
+you, Plantagenet?'
+
+Lord Cadurcis gave a grim smile; seated himself at the very back of
+the deep chair and swung his feet, which no longer reached the ground,
+to and fro.
+
+'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis always behaves well,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'There, Plantagenet,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, 'only listen to that.
+Hear what Lady Annabel Herbert says; she is sure you always behave
+well. Now mind, never give her ladyship cause to change her opinion.'
+
+Plantagenet curled his lip, and half turned his back on his
+companions.
+
+'I regretted so much that I was not at home when you did me the honour
+to call,' resumed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'but I had gone over for the day to
+Southport, buying furniture. What a business it is to buy furniture,
+Lady Annabel!' added Mrs. Cadurcis, with a piteous expression.
+
+'It is indeed very troublesome,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Ah! you have none of these cares,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, surveying
+the pretty apartment. 'What a difference between Cherbury and the
+abbey! I suppose you have never been there?'
+
+'Indeed, it is one of my favourite walks,' answered Lady Annabel;
+'and, some two years ago, I even took the liberty of walking through
+the house.'
+
+'Was there ever such a place!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'I assure you
+my poor head turns whenever I try to find my way about it. But the
+trustees offered it us, and I thought it my duty to my son to reside
+there. Besides, it was a great offer to a widow; if poor Mr. Cadurcis
+had been alive it would have been different. I hardly know what
+I shall do there, particularly in winter. My spirits are always
+dreadfully low. I only hope Plantagenet will behave well. If he goes
+into his tantarums at the abbey, and particularly in winter, I hardly
+know what will become of me!'
+
+'I am sure Lord Cadurcis will do everything to make the abbey
+comfortable to you. Besides, it is but a short walk from Cherbury, and
+you must come often and see us.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet can be good if he likes, I can assure you,
+Lady Annabel; and behaves as properly as any little boy I know.
+Plantagenet, my dear, speak. Have not I always told you, when you pay
+a visit, that you should open your mouth now and then. I don't like
+chattering children,' added Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but I like them to answer
+when they are spoken to.'
+
+'Nobody has spoken to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a sullen tone.
+
+'Plantagenet, my love!' said his mother in a solemn voice.
+
+'Well, mother, what do you want?'
+
+'Plantagenet, my love, you know you promised me to be good!'
+
+'Well! what have I done?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, interfering, 'do you like to look
+at pictures?'
+
+'Thank you,' replied the little lord, in a more courteous tone; 'I
+like to be left alone.'
+
+'Did you ever know such an odd child!' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'and yet,
+Lady Annabel, you must not judge him by what you see. I do assure you
+he can behave, when he likes, as pretty as possible.'
+
+'Pretty!' muttered the little lord between his teeth.
+
+'If you had only seen him at Morpeth sometimes at a little tea party,'
+said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'he really was quite the ornament of the company.'
+
+'No, I wasn't,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet!' said his mother again in a solemn tone, 'have I not
+always told you that you are never to contradict any one?'
+
+The little lord indulged in a suppressed growl.
+
+'There was a little play last Christmas,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis,
+'and he acted quite delightfully. Now you would not think that, from
+the way he sits upon that chair. Plantagenet, my dear, I do insist
+upon your behaving yourself. Sit like a man.'
+
+'I am not a man,' said Lord Cadurcis, very quietly; 'I wish I were.'
+
+'Plantagenet!' said the mother, 'have not I always told you that you
+are never to answer me? It is not proper for children to answer! O
+Lady Annabel, if you knew what it cost me to educate my son. He never
+does anything I wish, and it is so provoking, because I know that he
+can behave as properly as possible if he likes. He does it to provoke
+me. You know you do it to provoke me, you little brat; now, sit
+properly, sir; I do desire you to sit properly. How vexatious that you
+should call at Cherbury for the first time, and behave in this manner!
+Plantagenet, do you hear me?' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, with a face
+reddening to scarlet, and almost menacing a move from her seat.
+
+'Yes, everybody hears you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said the little lord.
+
+'Don't call me Mrs. Cadurcis,' exclaimed the mother, in a dreadful
+rage. 'That is not the way to speak to your mother; I will not be
+called Mrs. Cadurcis by you. Don't answer me, sir; I desire you not
+to answer me. I have half a mind to get up and give you a good shake,
+that I have. O Lady Annabel,' sighed Mrs. Cadurcis, while a tear
+trickled down her cheek, 'if you only knew the life I lead, and what
+trouble it costs me to educate that child!'
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis has
+no other wish but to please you. Indeed you have misunderstood him.'
+
+'Yes! she always misunderstands me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a softer
+tone, but with pouting lips and suffused eyes.
+
+'Now he is going on,' said his mother, beginning herself to cry
+dreadfully. 'He knows my weak heart; he knows nobody in the world
+loves him like his mother; and this is the way he treats me.'
+
+'My dear Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, 'pray take luncheon after
+your long drive; and Lord Cadurcis, I am sure you must be fatigued.'
+
+'Thank you, I never eat, my dear lady,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'except at
+my meals. But one glass of Mountain, if you please, I would just take
+the liberty of tasting, for the weather is so dreadfully hot, and
+Plantagenet has so aggravated me, I really do not feel myself.'
+
+Lady Annabel sounded her silver hand-bell, and the butler brought some
+cakes and the Mountain. Mrs. Cadurcis revived by virtue of her single
+glass, and the providential co-operation of a subsequent one or two.
+Even the cakes and the Mountain, however, would not tempt her son to
+open his mouth; and this, in spite of her returning composure, drove
+her to desperation. A conviction that the Mountain and the cakes were
+delicious, an amiable desire that the palate of her spoiled child
+should be gratified, some reasonable maternal anxiety that after so
+long and fatiguing a drive he in fact needed some refreshment, and
+the agonising consciousness that all her own physical pleasure at the
+moment was destroyed by the mental sufferings she endured at having
+quarrelled with her son, and that he was depriving himself of what was
+so agreeable only to pique her, quite overwhelmed the ill-regulated
+mind of this fond mother. Between each sip and each mouthful, she
+appealed to him to follow her example, now with cajolery, now with
+menace, till at length, worked up by the united stimulus of the
+Mountain and her own ungovernable rage, she dashed down the glass and
+unfinished slice of cake, and, before the astonished Lady Annabel,
+rushed forward to give him what she had long threatened, and what she
+in general ultimately had recourse to, a good shake.
+
+Her agile son, experienced in these storms, escaped in time, and
+pushed his chair before his infuriated mother; Mrs. Cadurcis, however,
+rallied, and chased him round the room; once more she flattered
+herself she had captured him, once more he evaded her; in her despair
+she took up Venetia's 'Seven Champions,' and threw the volume at his
+head; he laughed a fiendish laugh, as, ducking his head, the book flew
+on, and dashed through a pane of glass; Mrs. Cadurcis made a desperate
+charge, and her son, a little frightened at her almost maniacal
+passion, saved himself by suddenly seizing Lady Annabel's work-table,
+and whirling it before her; Mrs. Cadurcis fell over the leg of the
+table, and went into hysterics; while the bloodhound, who had long
+started from his repose, looked at his mistress for instructions, and
+in the meantime continued barking. The astonished and agitated Lady
+Annabel assisted Mrs. Cadurcis to rise, and led her to a couch. Lord
+Cadurcis, pale and dogged, stood in a corner, and after all this
+uproar there was a comparative calm, only broken by the sobs of the
+mother, each instant growing fainter and fainter.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Mistress Pauncefort ushered in the
+little Venetia. She really looked like an angel of peace sent from
+heaven on a mission of concord, with her long golden hair, her bright
+face, and smile of ineffable loveliness.
+
+'Mamma!' said Venetia, in the sweetest tone.
+
+'Hush! darling,' said Lady Annabel, 'this lady is not very well.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis opened her eyes and sighed. She beheld Venetia, and
+stared at her with a feeling of wonder. 'O Lady Annabel,' she faintly
+exclaimed, 'what must you think of me? But was there ever such an
+unfortunate mother? and I have not a thought in the world but for that
+boy. I have devoted my life to him, and never would have buried myself
+in this abbey but for his sake. And this is the way he treats me,
+and his father before him treated me even worse. Am I not the most
+unfortunate woman you ever knew?'
+
+'My dear madam,' said the kind Lady Annabel, in a soothing tone, 'you
+will be very happy yet; all will be quite right and quite happy.'
+
+'Is this angel your child?' inquired Mrs. Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'This is my little girl, Venetia. Come hither, Venetia, and speak to
+Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'How do you do, Mrs. Cadurcis?' said Venetia. 'I am so glad you have
+come to live at the abbey.'
+
+'The angel!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'The sweet seraph! Oh! why did
+not my Plantagenet speak to you, Lady Annabel, in the same tone?
+And he can, if he likes; he can, indeed. It was his silence that so
+mortified me; it was his silence that led to all. I am so proud of
+him! and then he comes here, and never speaks a word. O Plantagenet, I
+am sure you will break my heart.'
+
+Venetia went up to the little lord in the corner, and gently stroked
+his dark cheek. 'Are you the little boy?' she said.
+
+Cadurcis looked at her; at first the glance was rather fierce, but
+it instantly relaxed. 'What is your name?' he said in a low, but not
+unkind, tone.
+
+'Venetia!'
+
+'I like you, Venetia,' said the boy. 'Do you live here?'
+
+'Yes, with my mamma.'
+
+'I like your mamma, too; but not so much as you. I like your gold
+hair.'
+
+'Oh, how funny! to like my gold hair!'
+
+'If you had come in sooner,' said Cadurcis, 'we should not have had
+this row.'
+
+'What is a row, little boy?' said Venetia.
+
+'Do not call me little boy,' he said, but not in an unkind tone; 'call
+me by my name.'
+
+'What is your name?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis; but you may call me by my Christian name, because I
+like you.'
+
+'What is your Christian name?'
+
+'Plantagenet.'
+
+'Plantagenet! What a long name!' said Venetia. 'Tell me then,
+Plantagenet, what is a row?'
+
+'What often takes place between me and my mother, but which I am sorry
+now has happened here, for I like this place, and should like to come
+often. A row is a quarrel.'
+
+'A quarrel! What! do you quarrel with your mamma?'
+
+'Often.'
+
+'Why, then, you are not a good boy.'
+
+'Ah! my mamma is not like yours,' said the little lord, with a sigh.
+'It is not my fault. But now I want to make it up; how shall I do it?'
+
+'Go and give her a kiss.'
+
+'Poh! that is not the way.'
+
+'Shall I go and ask my mamma what is best to do?' said Venetia;
+and she stole away on tiptoe, and whispered to Lady Annabel that
+Plantagenet wanted her. Her mother came forward and invited Lord
+Cadurcis to walk on the terrace with her, leaving Venetia to amuse her
+other guest.
+
+Lady Annabel, though kind, was frank and firm in her unexpected
+confidential interview with her new friend. She placed before him
+clearly the enormity of his conduct, which no provocation could
+justify; it was a violation of divine law, as well as human propriety.
+She found the little lord attentive, tractable, and repentant,
+and, what might not have been expected, exceedingly ingenious
+and intelligent. His observations, indeed, were distinguished by
+remarkable acuteness; and though he could not, and indeed did not even
+attempt to vindicate his conduct, he incidentally introduced much
+that might be urged in its extenuation. There was indeed in this,
+his milder moment, something very winning in his demeanour, and Lady
+Annabel deeply regretted that a nature of so much promise and capacity
+should, by the injudicious treatment of a parent, at once fond and
+violent, afford such slight hopes of future happiness. It was arranged
+between Lord Cadurcis and Lady Annabel that she should lead him to his
+mother, and that he should lament the past, and ask her forgiveness;
+so they re-entered the room. Venetia was listening to a long story
+from Mrs. Cadurcis, who appeared to have entirely recovered herself;
+but her countenance assumed a befitting expression of grief and
+gravity when she observed her son.
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'your son is unhappy that he
+should have offended you, and he has asked my kind offices to effect a
+perfect reconciliation between a child who wishes to be dutiful to a
+parent who, he feels, has always been so affectionate.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis began crying.
+
+'Mother,' said her son, 'I am sorry for what has occurred; mine was
+the fault. I shall not be happy till you pardon me.'
+
+'No, yours was not the fault,' said poor Mrs. Cadurcis, crying
+bitterly. 'Oh! no, it was not! I was in fault, only I. There, Lady
+Annabel, did I not tell you he was the sweetest, dearest, most
+generous-hearted creature that ever lived? Oh! if he would only always
+speak so, I am sure I should be the happiest woman that ever breathed!
+He puts me in mind quite of his poor dear father, who was an
+angel upon earth; he was indeed, when he was not vexed. O my
+dear Plantagenet! my only hope and joy! you are the treasure and
+consolation of my life, and always will be. God bless you, my darling
+child! You shall have that pony you wanted; I am sure I can manage it:
+I did not think I could.'
+
+As Lady Annabel thought it was as well that the mother and the son
+should not be immediately thrown together after this storm, she kindly
+proposed that they should remain, and pass the day at Cherbury; and,
+as Plantagenet's eyes brightened at the proposal, it did not require
+much trouble to persuade his mother to accede to it. The day, that had
+commenced so inauspiciously, turned out one of the most agreeable,
+both to Mrs. Cadurcis and her child. The two mothers conversed
+together, and, as Mrs. Cadurcis was a great workwoman, there was
+at least one bond of sympathy between her and the tapestry of her
+hostess. Then they all took a stroll in the park; and as Mrs. Cadurcis
+was not able to walk for any length of time, the children were
+permitted to stroll about together, attended by Mistress Pauncefort,
+while Mrs. Cadurcis, chatting without ceasing, detailed to Lady
+Annabel all the history of her life, all the details of her various
+complaints and her economical arrangements, and all the secrets of her
+husband's treatment of her, that favourite subject on which she ever
+waxed most eloquent. Plantagenet, equally indulging in confidence,
+which with him, however, was unusual, poured all his soul into the
+charmed ear of Venetia. He told her how he and his mother had lived at
+Morpeth, and how he hated it; how poor they had been, and how rich he
+should be; how he loved the abbey, and especially the old gallery, and
+the drums and armour; how he had been a day-scholar at a little school
+which he abhorred, and how he was to go some day to Eton, of which he
+was very proud.
+
+At length they were obliged to return, and when dinner was over the
+postchaise was announced. Mrs. Cadurcis parted from Lady Annabel with
+all the warm expressions of a heart naturally kind and generous; and
+Plantagenet embraced Venetia, and promised that the next day he would
+find his way alone from Cadurcis, through the wood, and come and take
+another walk with her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+This settlement of Mrs. Cadurcis and her son in the neighbourhood
+was an event of no slight importance in the life of the family at
+Cherbury. Venetia at length found a companion of her own age, itself
+an incident which, in its influence upon her character and pursuits,
+was not to be disregarded. There grew up between the little lord and
+the daughter of Lady Annabel that fond intimacy which not rarely
+occurs in childhood. Plantagenet and Venetia quickly imbibed for each
+other a singular affection, not displeasing to Lady Annabel, who
+observed, without dissatisfaction, the increased happiness of her
+child, and encouraged by her kindness the frequent visits of the boy,
+who soon learnt the shortest road from the abbey, and almost daily
+scaled the hill, and traced his way through the woods to the hall.
+There was much, indeed, in the character and the situation of Lord
+Cadurcis which interested Lady Annabel Herbert. His mild, engaging,
+and affectionate manners, when he was removed from the injudicious
+influence of his mother, won upon her feelings; she felt for this
+lone child, whom nature had gifted with so soft a heart and with a
+thoughtful mind whose outbreaks not unfrequently attracted her notice;
+with none to guide him, and with only one heart to look up to for
+fondness; and that, too, one that had already contrived to forfeit the
+respect even of so young a child.
+
+Yet Lady Annabel was too sensible of the paramount claims of a
+mother; herself, indeed, too jealous of any encroachment on the full
+privileges of maternal love, to sanction in the slightest degree, by
+her behaviour, any neglect of Mrs. Cadurcis by her son. For his sake,
+therefore, she courted the society of her new neighbour; and although
+Mrs. Cadurcis offered little to engage Lady Annabel's attention as
+a companion, though she was violent in her temper, far from well
+informed, and, from the society in which, in spite of her original
+good birth, her later years had passed, very far from being
+refined, she was not without her good qualities. She was generous,
+kind-hearted, and grateful; not insensible of her own deficiencies,
+and respectable from her misfortunes. Lady Annabel was one of those
+who always judged individuals rather by their good qualities than
+their bad. With the exception of her violent temper, which, under the
+control of Lady Annabel's presence, and by the aid of all that kind
+person's skilful management, Mrs. Cadurcis generally contrived to
+bridle, her principal faults were those of manner, which, from the
+force of habit, every day became less painful. Mrs. Cadurcis, who,
+indeed, was only a child of a larger growth, became scarcely less
+attached to the Herbert family than her son; she felt that her life,
+under their influence, was happier and serener than of yore; that
+there were less domestic broils than in old days; that her son was
+more dutiful; and, as she could not help suspecting, though she found
+it difficult to analyse the cause, herself more amiable. The truth
+was, Lady Annabel always treated Mrs. Cadurcis with studied respect;
+and the children, and especially Venetia, followed her example.
+Mrs. Cadurcis' self-complacency was not only less shocked, but more
+gratified, than before; and this was the secret of her happiness. For
+no one was more mortified by her rages, when they were past, than Mrs.
+Cadurcis herself; she felt they compromised her dignity, and had lost
+her all moral command over a child whom she loved at the bottom of her
+heart with a kind of wild passion, though she would menace and strike
+him, and who often precipitated these paroxysms by denying his mother
+that duty and affection which were, after all, the great charm and
+pride of her existence.
+
+As Mrs. Cadurcis was unable to walk to Cherbury, and as Plantagenet
+soon fell into the habit of passing every morning at the hall, Lady
+Annabel was frequent in her visits to the mother, and soon she
+persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to order the old postchaise regularly on
+Saturday, and remain at Cherbury until the following Monday; by these
+means both families united together in the chapel at divine service,
+while the presence of Dr. Masham, at their now increased Sunday
+dinner, was an incident in the monotonous life of Mrs. Cadurcis far
+from displeasing to her. The Doctor gave her a little news of the
+neighbourhood, and of the country in general; amused her with an
+occasional anecdote of the Queen and the young Princesses, and always
+lent her the last number of 'Sylvanus Urban.'
+
+This weekly visit to Cherbury, the great personal attention which she
+always received there, and the frequent morning walks of Lady Annabel
+to the abbey, effectually repressed on the whole the jealousy which
+was a characteristic of Mrs. Cadurcis' nature, and which the constant
+absence of her son from her in the mornings might otherwise have
+fatally developed. But Mrs. Cadurcis could not resist the conviction
+that the Herberts were as much her friends as her child's; her
+jealousy was balanced by her gratitude; she was daily, almost hourly,
+sensible of some kindness of Lady Annabel, for there were a thousand
+services in the power of the opulent and ample establishment of
+Cherbury to afford the limited and desolate household at the abbey.
+Living in seclusion, it is difficult to refrain from imbibing even a
+strong regard for our almost solitary companion, however incompatible
+may be our pursuits, and however our tastes may vary, especially when
+that companion is grateful, and duly sensible of the condescension of
+our intimacy. And so it happened that, before a year had elapsed, that
+very Mrs. Cadurcis, whose first introduction at Cherbury had been so
+unfavourable to her, and from whose temper and manners the elegant
+demeanour and the disciplined mind of Lady Annabel Herbert might have
+been excused for a moment recoiling, had succeeded in establishing a
+strong hold upon the affections of her refined neighbour, who sought,
+on every occasion, her society, and omitted few opportunities of
+contributing to her comfort and welfare.
+
+In the meantime her son was the companion of Venetia, both in her
+pastimes and studies. The education of Lord Cadurcis had received no
+further assistance than was afforded by the little grammar-school at
+Morpeth, where he had passed three or four years as a day-scholar, and
+where his mother had invariably taken his part on every occasion that
+he had incurred the displeasure of his master. There he had obtained
+some imperfect knowledge of Latin; yet the boy was fond of reading,
+and had picked up, in an odd way, more knowledge than might have been
+supposed. He had read 'Baker's Chronicle,' and 'The Old Universal
+History,' and 'Plutarch;' and had turned over, in the book room of an
+old gentleman at Morpeth, who had been attracted by his intelligence,
+not a few curious old folios, from which he had gleaned no
+contemptible store of curious instances of human nature. His guardian,
+whom he had never seen, and who was a great nobleman and lived in
+London, had signified to Mrs. Cadurcis his intention of sending his
+ward to Eton; but that time had not yet arrived, and Mrs. Cadurcis,
+who dreaded parting with her son, determined to postpone it by every
+maternal artifice in her power. At present it would have seemed that
+her son's intellect was to be left utterly uncultivated, for there
+was no school in the neighbourhood which he could attend, and no
+occasional assistance which could be obtained; and to the constant
+presence of a tutor in the house Mrs. Cadurcis was not less opposed
+than his lordship could have been himself.
+
+It was by degrees that Lord Cadurcis became the partner of Venetia
+in her studies. Lady Annabel had consulted Dr. Masham about the poor
+little boy, whose neglected state she deplored; and the good Doctor
+had offered to ride over to Cherbury at least once a week, besides
+Sunday, provided Lady Annabel would undertake that his directions,
+in his absence, should be attended to. This her ladyship promised
+cheerfully; nor had she any difficulty in persuading Cadurcis to
+consent to the arrangement. He listened with docility and patience to
+her representation of the fatal effects, in his after-life, of his
+neglected education; of the generous and advantageous offer of Dr.
+Masham; and how cheerfully she would exert herself to assist his
+endeavours, if Plantagenet would willingly submit to her supervision.
+The little lord expressed to her his determination to do all that she
+desired, and voluntarily promised her that she should never repent
+her goodness. And he kept his word. So every morning, with the full
+concurrence of Mrs. Cadurcis, whose advice and opinion on the affair
+were most formally solicited by Lady Annabel, Plantagenet arrived
+early at the hall, and took his writing and French lessons with
+Venetia, and then they alternately read aloud to Lady Annabel from the
+histories of Hooke and Echard. When Venetia repaired to her drawing,
+Cadurcis sat down to his Latin exercise, and, in encouraging and
+assisting him, Lady Annabel, a proficient in Italian, began herself
+to learn the ancient language of the Romans. With such a charming
+mistress even these Latin exercises were achieved. In vain Cadurcis,
+after turning leaf over leaf, would look round with a piteous air to
+his fair assistant, 'O Lady Annabel, I am sure the word is not in the
+dictionary;' Lady Annabel was in a moment at his side, and, by some
+magic of her fair fingers, the word would somehow or other make its
+appearance. After a little exposure of this kind, Plantagenet would
+labour with double energy, until, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion
+and vexation, he would burst forth, 'O Lady Annabel, indeed there is
+not a nominative case in this sentence.' And then Lady Annabel
+would quit her easel, with her pencil in her hand, and give all her
+intellect to the puzzling construction; at length, she would say,
+'I think, Plantagenet, this must be our nominative case;' and so it
+always was.
+
+Thus, when Wednesday came, the longest and most laborious morning of
+all Lord Cadurcis' studies, and when he neither wrote, nor read, nor
+learnt French with Venetia, but gave up all his soul to Dr. Masham, he
+usually acquitted himself to that good person's satisfaction, who left
+him, in general, with commendations that were not lost on the pupil,
+and plenty of fresh exercises to occupy him and Lady Annabel until the
+next week. When a year had thus passed away, the happiest year yet
+in Lord Cadurcis' life, in spite of all his disadvantages, he had
+contrived to make no inconsiderable progress. Almost deprived of a
+tutor, he had advanced in classical acquirement more than during the
+whole of his preceding years of scholarship, while his handwriting
+began to become intelligible, he could read French with comparative
+facility, and had turned over many a volume in the well-stored library
+at Cherbury.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When the hours of study were past, the children, with that zest for
+play which occupation can alone secure, would go forth together, and
+wander in the park. Here they had made a little world for themselves,
+of which no one dreamed; for Venetia had poured forth all her Arcadian
+lore into the ear of Plantagenet; and they acted together many of
+the adventures of the romance, under the fond names of Musidorus and
+Philoclea. Cherbury was Arcadia, and Cadurcis Macedon; while the
+intervening woods figured as the forests of Thessaly, and the breezy
+downs were the heights of Pindus. Unwearied was the innocent sport
+of their virgin imaginations; and it was a great treat if Venetia,
+attended by Mistress Pauncefort, were permitted to accompany
+Plantagenet some way on his return. Then they parted with an embrace
+in the woods of Thessaly, and Musidorus strolled home with a heavy
+heart to his Macedonian realm.
+
+Parted from Venetia, the magic suddenly seemed to cease, and Musidorus
+was instantly transformed into the little Lord Cadurcis, exhausted by
+the unconscious efforts of his fancy, depressed by the separation from
+his sweet companion, and shrinking from the unpoetical reception which
+at the best awaited him in his ungenial home. Often, when thus alone,
+would he loiter on his way and seat himself on the ridge, and watch
+the setting sun, as its dying glory illumined the turrets of his
+ancient house, and burnished the waters of the lake, until the tears
+stole down his cheek; and yet he knew not why. No thoughts of sorrow
+had flitted through his mind, nor indeed had ideas of any description
+occurred to him. It was a trance of unmeaning abstraction; all that he
+felt was a mystical pleasure in watching the sunset, and a conviction
+that, if he were not with Venetia, that which he loved next best, was
+to be alone.
+
+The little Cadurcis in general returned home moody and silent, and
+his mother too often, irritated by his demeanour, indulged in all the
+expressions of a quick and offended temper; but since his intimacy
+with the Herberts, Plantagenet had learnt to control his emotions,
+and often successfully laboured to prevent those scenes of domestic
+recrimination once so painfully frequent. There often, too, was a note
+from Lady Annabel to Mrs. Cadurcis, or some other slight memorial,
+borne by her son, which enlisted all the kind feelings of that lady in
+favour of her Cherbury friends, and then the evening was sure to pass
+over in peace; and, when Plantagenet was not thus armed, he exerted
+himself to be cordial; and so, on the whole, with some skill in
+management, and some trials of temper, the mother and child contrived
+to live together with far greater comfort than they had of old.
+
+Bedtime was always a great relief to Plantagenet, for it secured
+him solitude. He would lie awake for hours, indulging in sweet and
+unconscious reveries, and brooding over the future morn, that always
+brought happiness. All that he used to sigh for, was to be Lady
+Annabel's son; were he Venetia's brother, then he was sure he never
+should be for a moment unhappy; that parting from Cherbury, and the
+gloomy evenings at Cadurcis, would then be avoided. In such a mood,
+and lying awake upon his pillow, he sought refuge from the painful
+reality that surrounded him in the creative solace of his imagination.
+Alone, in his little bed, Cadurcis was Venetia's brother, and he
+conjured up a thousand scenes in which they were never separated, and
+wherein he always played an amiable and graceful part. Yet he loved
+the abbey; his painful infancy was not associated with that scene; it
+was not connected with any of those grovelling common-places of his
+life, from which he had shrunk back with instinctive disgust, even
+at a very tender age. Cadurcis was the spot to which, in his most
+miserable moments at Morpeth, he had always looked forward, as the
+only chance of emancipation from the distressing scene that surrounded
+him. He had been brought up with a due sense of his future position,
+and although he had ever affected a haughty indifference on the
+subject, from his disrelish for the coarse acquaintances who were
+perpetually reminding him, with chuckling self-complacency, of his
+future greatness, in secret he had ever brooded over his destiny as
+his only consolation. He had imbibed from his own reflections, at a
+very early period of life, a due sense of the importance of his lot;
+he was proud of his hereditary honours, blended, as they were, with
+some glorious passages in the history of his country, and prouder of
+his still more ancient line. The eccentric exploits and the violent
+passions, by which his race had been ever characterised, were to him a
+source of secret exultation. Even the late lord, who certainly had
+no claims to his gratitude, for he had robbed the inheritance to the
+utmost of his power, commanded, from the wild decision of his life,
+the savage respect of his successor. In vain Mrs. Cadurcis would
+pour forth upon this, the favourite theme for her wrath and her
+lamentations, all the bitter expressions of her rage and woe.
+Plantagenet had never imbibed her prejudices against the departed, and
+had often irritated his mother by maintaining that the late lord was
+perfectly justified in his conduct.
+
+But in these almost daily separations between Plantagenet and Venetia,
+how different was her lot to that of her companion! She was the
+confidante of all his domestic sorrows, and often he had requested
+her to exert her influence to obtain some pacifying missive from Lady
+Annabel, which might secure him a quiet evening at Cadurcis; and
+whenever this had not been obtained, the last words of Venetia were
+ever not to loiter, and to remember to speak to his mother as much as
+he possibly could. Venetia returned to a happy home, welcomed by the
+smile of a soft and beautiful parent, and with words of affection
+sweeter than music. She found an engaging companion, who had no
+thought but for her welfare, her amusement, and her instruction: and
+often, when the curtains were drawn, the candles lit, and Venetia,
+holding her mother's hand, opened her book, she thought of poor
+Plantagenet, so differently situated, with no one to be kind to him,
+with no one to sympathise with his thoughts, and perhaps at the very
+moment goaded into some unhappy quarrel with his mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The appearance of the Cadurcis family on the limited stage of her
+life, and the engrossing society of her companion, had entirely
+distracted the thoughts of Venetia from a subject to which in old days
+they were constantly recurring, and that was her father. By a process
+which had often perplexed her, and which she could never succeed in
+analysing, there had arisen in her mind, without any ostensible
+agency on the part of her mother which she could distinctly recall, a
+conviction that this was a topic on which she was never to speak. This
+idea had once haunted her, and she had seldom found herself alone
+without almost unconsciously musing over it. Notwithstanding the
+unvarying kindness of Lady Annabel, she exercised over her child
+a complete and unquestioned control. Venetia was brought up with
+strictness, which was only not felt to be severe, because the system
+was founded on the most entire affection, but, fervent as her love was
+for her mother, it was equalled by her profound respect, which every
+word and action of Lady Annabel tended to maintain.
+
+In all the confidential effusions with Plantagenet, Venetia had never
+dwelt upon this mysterious subject; indeed, in these conversations,
+when they treated of their real and not ideal life, Venetia was a mere
+recipient: all that she could communicate, Plantagenet could observe;
+he it was who avenged himself at these moments for his habitual
+silence before third persons; it was to Venetia that he poured forth
+all his soul, and she was never weary of hearing his stories about
+Morpeth, and all his sorrows, disgusts, and afflictions. There was
+scarcely an individual in that little town with whom, from his lively
+narratives, she was not familiar; and it was to her sympathising heart
+that he confided all his future hopes and prospects, and confessed the
+strong pride he experienced in being a Cadurcis, which from all others
+was studiously concealed.
+
+It had happened that the first Christmas Day after the settlement of
+the Cadurcis family at the abbey occurred in the middle of the week;
+and as the weather was severe, in order to prevent two journeys at
+such an inclement season, Lady Annabel persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to pass
+the whole week at the hall. This arrangement gave such pleasure to
+Plantagenet that the walls of the abbey, as the old postchaise was
+preparing for their journey, quite resounded with his merriment. In
+vain his mother, harassed with all the mysteries of packing, indulged
+in a thousand irritable expressions, which at any other time might
+have produced a broil or even a fray; Cadurcis did nothing but laugh.
+There was at the bottom of this boy's heart, with all his habitual
+gravity and reserve, a fund of humour which would occasionally break
+out, and which nothing could withstand. When he was alone with
+Venetia, he would imitate the old maids of Morpeth, and all the
+ceremonies of a provincial tea party, with so much life and genuine
+fun, that Venetia was often obliged to stop in their rambles to
+indulge her overwhelming mirth. When they were alone, and he was
+gloomy, she was often accustomed to say, 'Now, dear Plantagenet, tell
+me how the old ladies at Morpeth drink tea.'
+
+This morning at the abbey, Cadurcis was irresistible, and the more
+excited his mother became with the difficulties which beset her, the
+more gay and fluent were his quips and cranks. Puffing, panting,
+and perspiring, now directing her waiting-woman, now scolding her
+man-servant, and now ineffectually attempting to box her son's ears,
+Mrs. Cadurcis indeed offered a most ridiculous spectacle.
+
+'John!' screamed Mrs. Cadurcis, in a voice of bewildered passion, and
+stamping with rage, 'is that the place for my cap-box? You do it on
+purpose, that you do!'
+
+'John,' mimicked Lord Cadurcis, 'how dare you do it on purpose?'
+
+'Take that, you brat,' shrieked the mother, and she struck her own
+hand against the doorway. 'Oh! I'll give it you, I'll give it you,'
+she bellowed under the united influence of rage and pain, and she
+pursued her agile child, who dodged her on the other side of the
+postchaise, which he persisted in calling the family carriage.
+
+'Oh! ma'am, my lady,' exclaimed the waiting-woman, sallying forth from
+the abbey, 'what is to be done with the parrot when we are away? Mrs.
+Brown says she won't see to it, that she won't; 'taynt her place.'
+
+This rebellion of Mrs. Brown was a diversion in favour of Plantagenet.
+Mrs. Cadurcis waddled down the cloisters with precipitation, rushed
+into the kitchen, seized the surprised Mrs. Brown by the shoulder, and
+gave her a good shake; and darting at the cage, which held the parrot,
+she bore it in triumph to the carriage. 'I will take the bird with
+me,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'We cannot take the bird inside, madam,' said Plantagenet, 'for it
+will overhear all our conversation, and repeat it. We shall not be
+able to abuse our friends.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis threw the cage at her son's head, who, for the sake of
+the bird, dexterously caught it, but declared at the same time he
+would immediately throw it into the lake. Then Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+cry with rage, and, seating herself on the open steps of the chaise,
+sobbed hysterically. Plantagenet stole round on tip-toe, and peeped
+in her face: 'A merry Christmas and a happy new year, Mrs. Cadurcis,'
+said her son.
+
+'How can I be merry and happy, treated as I am?' sobbed the mother.
+'You do not treat Lady Annabel so. Oh! no; it is only your mother whom
+you use in this manner! Go to Cherbury. Go by all means, but go by
+yourself; I shall not go: go to your friends, Lord Cadurcis; they are
+your friends, not mine, and I hope they are satisfied, now that they
+have robbed me of the affections of my child. I have seen what they
+have been after all this time. I am not so blind as some people think.
+No! I see how it is. I am nobody. Your poor mother, who brought you
+up, and educated you, is nobody. This is the end of all your Latin and
+French, and your fine lessons. Honour your father and your mother,
+Lord Cadurcis; that's a finer lesson than all. Oh! oh! oh!'
+
+This allusion to the Herberts suddenly calmed Plantagenet. He felt in
+an instant the injudiciousness of fostering by his conduct the latent
+jealousy which always lurked at the bottom of his mother's heart, and
+which nothing but the united talent and goodness of Lady Annabel could
+have hitherto baffled. So he rejoined in a kind yet playful tone, 'If
+you will be good, I will give you a kiss for a Christmas-box, mother;
+and the parrot shall go inside if you like.'
+
+'The parrot may stay at home, I do not care about it: but I cannot
+bear quarrelling; it is not my temper, you naughty, very naughty boy.'
+
+'My dear mother,' continued his lordship, in a soothing tone, 'these
+scenes always happen when people are going to travel. I assure you it
+is quite a part of packing up.'
+
+'You will be the death of me, that you will,' said the mother, 'with
+all your violence. You are worse than your father, that you are.'
+
+'Come, mother,' said her son, drawing nearer, and just touching her
+shoulder with his hand, 'will you not have my Christmas-box?'
+
+The mother extended her cheek, which the son slightly touched with his
+lip, and then Mrs. Cadurcis jumped up as lively as ever, called for a
+glass of Mountain, and began rating the footboy.
+
+At length the postchaise was packed; they had a long journey before
+them, because Cadurcis would go round by Southport, to call upon a
+tradesman whom a month before he had commissioned to get a trinket
+made for him in London, according to the newest fashion, as a present
+for Venetia. The commission was executed; Mrs. Cadurcis, who had been
+consulted in confidence by her son on the subject, was charmed with
+the result of their united taste. She had good-naturedly contributed
+one of her own few, but fine, emeralds to the gift; upon the back of
+the brooch was engraved:--
+
+    TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.
+
+'I hope she will be a sister, and more than a sister, to you,' said
+Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'Why?' inquired her son, rather confused.
+
+'You may look farther, and fare worse,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+Plantagenet blushed; and yet he wondered why he blushed: he understood
+his mother, but he could not pursue the conversation; his heart
+fluttered.
+
+A most cordial greeting awaited them at Cherbury; Dr. Masham was
+there, and was to remain until Monday. Mrs. Cadurcis would have opened
+about the present immediately, but her son warned her on the threshold
+that if she said a word about it, or seemed to be aware of its
+previous existence, even when it was shown, he would fling it
+instantly away into the snow; and her horror of this catastrophe
+bridled her tongue. Mrs. Cadurcis, however, was happy, and Lady
+Annabel was glad to see her so; the Doctor, too, paid her some
+charming compliments; the good lady was in the highest spirits, for
+she was always in extremes, and at this moment she would willingly
+have laid down her life if she had thought the sacrifice could have
+contributed to the welfare of the Herberts.
+
+Cadurcis himself drew Venetia aside, and then, holding the brooch
+reversed, he said, with rather a confused air, 'Read that, Venetia.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet!' she said, very much astonished.
+
+'You see, Venetia,' he added, leaving it in her hand, 'it is yours.'
+
+Venetia turned the jewel; her eye was dazzled with its brilliancy.
+
+'It is too grand for a little girl, Plantagenet,' she exclaimed, a
+little pale.
+
+'No, it is not,' said Plantagenet, firmly; 'besides, you will not
+always be a little girl; and then, if ever we do not live together as
+we do now, you will always remember you have a brother.'
+
+'I must show it mamma; I must ask her permission to take it,
+Plantagenet.'
+
+Venetia went up to her mother, who was talking to Mrs. Cadurcis. She
+had not courage to speak before that lady and Dr. Masham, so she
+called her mother aside.
+
+'Mamma,' she said, 'something has happened.'
+
+'What, my dear?' said Lady Annabel, somewhat surprised at the
+seriousness of her tone.
+
+'Look at this, mamma!' said Venetia, giving her the brooch.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at the jewel, and read the inscription. It was
+a more precious offering than the mother would willingly have
+sanctioned, but she was too highly bred, and too thoughtful of the
+feelings of others, to hesitate for a moment to admire it herself, and
+authorise its acceptance by her daughter. So she walked up to Cadurcis
+and gave him a mother's embrace for his magnificent present to his
+sister, placed the brooch itself near Venetia's heart, and then led
+her daughter to Mrs. Cadurcis, that the gratified mother might
+admire the testimony of her son's taste and affection. It was a most
+successful present, and Cadurcis felt grateful to his mother for her
+share in its production, and the very proper manner in which she
+received the announcement of its offering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+This was Christmas Eve; the snow was falling briskly. After dinner
+they were glad to cluster round the large fire in the green
+drawing-room. Dr. Masham had promised to read the evening service in
+the chapel, which was now lit up, and the bell was sounding, that the
+cottagers might have the opportunity of attending.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia followed the elders to the chapel; they walked
+hand-in-hand down the long galleries.
+
+'I should like to go all over this house,' said Plantagenet to his
+companion. 'Have you ever been?'
+
+'Never,' said Venetia; 'half of it is shut up. Nobody ever goes into
+it, except mamma.'
+
+In the night there was a violent snowstorm; not only was the fall
+extremely heavy, but the wind was so high, that it carried the snow
+off the hills, and all the roads were blocked up, in many places
+ten or twelve feet deep. All communication was stopped. This was an
+adventure that amused the children, though the rest looked rather
+grave. Plantagenet expressed to Venetia his wish that the snow would
+never melt, and that they might remain at Cherbury for ever.
+
+The children were to have a holiday this week, and they had planned
+some excursions in the park and neighbourhood, but now they were all
+prisoners to the house. They wandered about, turning the staircase
+into mountains, the great hall into an ocean, and the different rooms
+into so many various regions. They amused themselves with their
+adventures, and went on endless voyages of discovery. Every moment
+Plantagenet longed still more for the opportunity of exploring the
+uninhabited chambers; but Venetia shook her head, because she was sure
+Lady Annabel would not grant them permission.
+
+'Did you ever live at any place before you came to Cherbury?' inquired
+Lord Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I know I was not born here,' said Venetia; 'but I was so young that I
+have no recollection of any other place.'
+
+'And did any one live here before you came?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'I do not know,' said Venetia; 'I never heard if anybody did. I, I,'
+she continued, a little constrained, 'I know nothing.'
+
+'Do you remember your papa?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'No,' said Venetia.
+
+'Then he must have died almost as soon as you were born, said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose he must,' said Venetia, and her heart trembled.
+
+'I wonder if he ever lived here!' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Mamma does not like me to ask questions about my papa,' said Venetia,
+'and I cannot tell you anything.'
+
+'Ah! your papa was different from mine, Venetia,' said Cadurcis; 'my
+mother talks of him often enough. They did not agree very well; and,
+when we quarrel, she always says I remind her of him. I dare say Lady
+Annabel loved your papa very much.'
+
+'I am sure mamma did,' replied Venetia.
+
+The children returned to the drawing-room, and joined their friends:
+Mrs. Cadurcis was sitting on the sofa, occasionally dozing over a
+sermon; Dr. Masham was standing with Lady Annabel in the recess of
+a distant window. Her ladyship's countenance was averted; she was
+reading a newspaper, which the Doctor had given her. As the door
+opened, Lady Annabel glanced round; her countenance was agitated; she
+folded up the newspaper rather hastily, and gave it to the Doctor.
+
+'And what have you been doing, little folks?' inquired the Doctor of
+the new comers.
+
+'We have been playing at the history of Rome,' said Venetia, 'and now
+that we have conquered every place, we do not know what to do.'
+
+'The usual result of conquest,' said the Doctor, smiling.
+
+'This snowstorm is a great trial for you; I begin to believe that,
+after all, you would be more pleased to take your holidays at another
+opportunity.'
+
+'We could amuse ourselves very well,' said Plantagenet, 'if Lady
+Annabel would be so kind as to permit us to explore the part of the
+house that is shut up.'
+
+'That would be a strange mode of diversion,' said Lady Annabel,
+quietly, 'and I do not think by any means a suitable one. There cannot
+be much amusement in roaming over a number of dusty unfurnished
+rooms.'
+
+'And so nicely dressed as you are too!' said Mrs. Cadurcis, rousing
+herself: 'I wonder how such an idea could enter your head!'
+
+'It snows harder than ever,' said Venetia; 'I think, after all, I
+shall learn my French vocabulary.'
+
+'If it snows to-morrow,' said Plantagenet, 'we will do our lessons as
+usual. Holidays, I find, are not so amusing as I supposed.'
+
+The snow did continue, and the next day the children voluntarily
+suggested that they should resume their usual course of life. With
+their mornings occupied, they found their sources of relaxation ample;
+and in the evening they acted plays, and Lady Annabel dressed them up
+in her shawls, and Dr. Masham read Shakspeare to them.
+
+It was about the fourth day of the visit that Plantagenet, loitering
+in the hall with Venetia, said to her, 'I saw your mamma go into the
+locked-up rooms last night. I do so wish that she would let us go
+there.'
+
+'Last night!' said Venetia; 'when could you have seen her last night?'
+
+'Very late: the fact is, I could not sleep, and I took it into my head
+to walk up and down the gallery. I often do so at the abbey. I like to
+walk up and down an old gallery alone at night. I do not know why; but
+I like it very much. Everything is so still, and then you hear the
+owls. I cannot make out why it is; but nothing gives me more pleasure
+than to get up when everybody is asleep. It seems as if one were the
+only living person in the world. I sometimes think, when I am a man, I
+will always get up in the night, and go to bed in the daytime. Is not
+that odd?'
+
+'But mamma!' said Venetia, 'how came you to see mamma?'
+
+'Oh! I am certain of it,' said the boy; 'for, to tell you the truth, I
+was rather frightened at first; only I thought it would not do for a
+Cadurcis to be afraid, so I stood against the wall, in the shade, and
+I was determined, whatever happened, not to cry out.'
+
+'Oh! you frighten me so, Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! you might well have been frightened if you had been there; past
+midnight, a tall white figure, and a light! However, there is nothing
+to be alarmed about; it was Lady Annabel, nobody else. I saw her as
+clearly as I see you now. She walked along the gallery, and went to
+the very door you showed me the other morning. I marked the door; I
+could not mistake it. She unlocked it, and she went in.'
+
+'And then?' inquired Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'Why, then, like a fool, I went back to bed,' said Plantagenet. 'I
+thought it would seem so silly if I were caught, and I might not have
+had the good fortune to escape twice. I know no more.'
+
+Venetia could not reply. She heard a laugh, and then her mother's
+voice. They were called with a gay summons to see a colossal
+snow-ball, that some of the younger servants had made and rolled to
+the window of the terrace-room. It was ornamented with a crown of
+holly and mistletoe, and the parti-coloured berries looked bright in a
+straggling sunbeam which had fought its way through the still-loaded
+sky, and fell upon the terrace.
+
+In the evening, as they sat round the fire, Mrs. Cadurcis began
+telling Venetia a long rambling ghost story, which she declared was
+a real ghost story, and had happened in her own family. Such
+communications were not very pleasing to Lady Annabel, but she was too
+well bred to interrupt her guest. When, however, the narrative was
+finished, and Venetia, by her observations, evidently indicated
+the effect that it had produced upon her mind, her mother took the
+occasion of impressing upon her the little credibility which should
+be attached to such legends, and the rational process by which many
+unquestionable apparitions might be accounted for. Dr. Masham,
+following this train, recounted a story of a ghost which had been
+generally received in a neighbouring village for a considerable
+period, and attested by the most veracious witnesses, but which was
+explained afterwards by turning out to be an instance of somnambulism.
+Venetia appeared to be extremely interested in the subject; she
+inquired much about sleep-walkers and sleepwalking; and a great many
+examples of the habit were cited. At length she said, 'Mamma, did you
+ever walk in your sleep?'
+
+'Not to my knowledge,' said Lady Annabel, smiling; 'I should hope
+not.'
+
+'Well, do you know,' said Plantagenet, who had hitherto listened in
+silence, 'it is very curious, but I once dreamt that you did, Lady
+Annabel.'
+
+'Indeed!' said the lady.
+
+'Yes! and I dreamt it last night, too,' continued Cadurcis. 'I thought
+I was sleeping in the uninhabited rooms here, and the door opened, and
+you walked in with a light.'
+
+'No! Plantagenet,' said Venetia, who was seated by him, and who spoke
+in a whisper, 'it was not--'
+
+'Hush!' said Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'Well, that was a strange dream,' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'was it not,
+Doctor?'
+
+'Now, children, I will tell you a very curious story,' said the
+Doctor; 'and it is quite a true one, for it happened to myself.'
+
+The Doctor was soon embarked in his tale, and his audience speedily
+became interested in the narrative; but Lady Annabel for some time
+maintained complete silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The spring returned; the intimate relations between the two families
+were each day more confirmed. Lady Annabel had presented her daughter
+and Plantagenet each with a beautiful pony, but their rides were at
+first to be confined to the park, and to be ever attended by a groom.
+In time, however, duly accompanied, they were permitted to extend
+their progress so far as Cadurcis. Mrs. Cadurcis had consented to
+the wishes of her son to restore the old garden, and Venetia was his
+principal adviser and assistant in the enterprise. Plantagenet was
+fond of the abbey, and nothing but the agreeable society of Cherbury
+on the one hand, and the relief of escaping from his mother on the
+other, could have induced him to pass so little of his time at home;
+but, with Venetia for his companion, his mornings at the abbey passed
+charmingly, and, as the days were now at their full length again,
+there was abundance of time, after their studies at Cherbury, to ride
+together through the woods to Cadurcis, spend several hours there, and
+for Venetia to return to the hall before sunset. Plantagenet always
+accompanied her to the limits of the Cherbury grounds, and then
+returned by himself, solitary and full of fancies.
+
+Lady Annabel had promised the children that they should some day
+ride together to Marringhurst, the rectory of Dr. Masham, to eat
+strawberries and cream. This was to be a great festival, and was
+looked forward to with corresponding interest. Her ladyship had kindly
+offered to accompany Mrs. Cadurcis in the carriage, but that lady was
+an invalid and declined the journey; so Lady Annabel, who was herself
+a good horsewoman, mounted her jennet with Venetia and Plantagenet.
+
+Marringhurst was only five miles from Cherbury by a cross-road,
+which was scarcely passable for carriages. The rectory house was a
+substantial, square-built, red brick mansion, shaded by gigantic elms,
+but the southern front covered with a famous vine, trained over it
+with elaborate care, and of which, and his espaliers, the Doctor was
+very proud. The garden was thickly stocked with choice fruit-trees;
+there was not the slightest pretence to pleasure grounds; but there
+was a capital bowling-green, and, above all, a grotto, where the
+Doctor smoked his evening pipe, and moralised in the midst of his
+cucumbers and cabbages. On each side extended the meadows of his
+glebe, where his kine ruminated at will. It was altogether a scene as
+devoid of the picturesque as any that could be well imagined; flat,
+but not low, and rich, and green, and still.
+
+His expected guests met as warm a reception as such a hearty friend
+might be expected to afford. Dr. Masham was scarcely less delighted at
+the excursion than the children themselves, and rejoiced in the sunny
+day that made everything more glad and bright. The garden, the grotto,
+the bowling-green, and all the novelty of the spot, greatly diverted
+his young companions; they visited his farmyard, were introduced to
+his poultry, rambled over his meadows, and admired his cows, which he
+had collected with equal care and knowledge. Nor was the interior of
+this bachelor's residence devoid of amusement. Every nook and corner
+was filled with objects of interest; and everything was in admirable
+order. The goddess of neatness and precision reigned supreme,
+especially in his hall, which, though barely ten feet square, was a
+cabinet of rural curiosities. His guns, his fishing-tackle, a cabinet
+of birds stuffed by himself, a fox in a glass-case that seemed
+absolutely running, and an otter with a real fish in its mouth, in
+turn delighted them; but chiefly, perhaps, his chimney-corner of Dutch
+tiles, all Scriptural subjects, which Venetia and Plantagenet emulated
+each other in discovering.
+
+Then his library, which was rare and splendid, for the Doctor was one
+of the most renowned scholars in the kingdom, and his pictures, his
+prints, and his gold fish, and his canary birds; it seemed they never
+could exhaust such sources of endless amusement; to say nothing of
+every other room in the house, for, from the garret to the dairy,
+his guests encouraged him in introducing them to every thing, every
+person, and every place.
+
+'And this is the way we old bachelors contrive to pass our lives,'
+said the good Doctor; 'and now, my dear lady, Goody Blount will give
+us some dinner.'
+
+The Doctor's repast was a substantial one; he seemed resolved, at one
+ample swoop, to repay Lady Annabel for all her hospitality; and he
+really took such delight in their participation of it, that his
+principal guest was constrained to check herself in more than one
+warning intimation that moderation was desirable, were it only for the
+sake of the strawberries and cream. All this time his housekeeper,
+Goody Blount, as he called her, in her lace cap and ruffles, as
+precise and starch as an old picture, stood behind his chair with
+pleased solemnity, directing, with unruffled composure, the movements
+of the liveried bumpkin who this day was promoted to the honour of
+'waiting at table.'
+
+'Come,' said the Doctor, as the cloth was cleared, 'I must bargain for
+one toast, Lady Annabel: "Church and State."'
+
+'What is Church and State?' said Venetia.
+
+'As good things. Miss Venetia, as strawberries and cream,' said the
+Doctor, laughing; 'and, like them, always best united.'
+
+After their repast, the children went into the garden to amuse
+themselves. They strolled about some time, until Plantagenet at length
+took it into his head that he should like to learn to play at bowls;
+and he said, if Venetia would wait in the grotto, where they then were
+talking, he would run back and ask the Doctor if the servant might
+teach him. He was not long absent; but appeared, on his return, a
+little agitated. Venetia inquired if he had been successful, but he
+shook his head, and said he had not asked.
+
+'Why did you not?' said Venetia.
+
+'I did not like,' he replied, looking very serious; 'something
+happened.'
+
+'What could have happened?' said Venetia.
+
+'Something strange,' was his answer.
+
+'Oh, do tell me, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Why,' said he, in a low voice, 'your mamma is crying.'
+
+'Crying!' exclaimed Venetia; 'my dear mamma crying! I must go to her
+directly.'
+
+'Hush!' said Plantagenet, shaking his head, 'you must not go.'
+
+'I must.'
+
+'No, you must not go, Venetia,' was his reply; 'I am sure she does not
+want us to know she is crying.'
+
+'What did she say to you?'
+
+'She did not see me; the Doctor did, and he gave me a nod to go away.'
+
+'I never saw mamma cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'Don't you say anything about it, Venetia,' said Plantagenet, with a
+manly air; 'listen to what I say.'
+
+'I do, Plantagenet, always; but still I should like to know what mamma
+can be crying about. Do tell me all about it.'
+
+'Why, I came to the room by the open windows, and your mamma was
+standing up, with her back to me, and leaning on the mantel-piece,
+with her face in her handkerchief; and the Doctor was standing up too,
+only his back was to the fireplace; and when he saw me, he made me a
+sign to go away, and I went directly.'
+
+'Are you sure mamma was crying?'
+
+'I heard her sob.'
+
+'I think I shall cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'You must not; you must know nothing about it. If you let your mamma
+know that I saw her crying, I shall never tell you anything again.'
+
+'What do you think she was crying about, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I cannot say; perhaps she had been talking about your papa. I do not
+want to play at bowls now,' added Plantagenet; 'let us go and see the
+cows.'
+
+In the course of half an hour the servant summoned the children to
+the house. The horses were ready, and they were now to return. Lady
+Annabel received them with her usual cheerfulness.
+
+'Well, dear children,' said she, 'have you been very much amused?'
+
+Venetia ran forward, and embraced her mother with even unusual
+fondness. She was mindful of Plantagenet's injunctions, and was
+resolved not to revive her mother's grief by any allusion that could
+recall the past; but her heart was, nevertheless, full of sympathy,
+and she could not have rode home, had she not thus expressed her love
+for her mother.
+
+With the exception of this strange incident, over which, afterwards,
+Venetia often pondered, and which made her rather serious the whole of
+the ride home, this expedition to Marringhurst was a very happy day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+This happy summer was succeeded by a singularly wet autumn. Weeks of
+continuous rain rendered it difficult even for the little Cadurcis,
+who defied the elements, to be so constant as heretofore in his daily
+visits to Cherbury. His mother, too, grew daily a greater invalid,
+and, with increasing sufferings and infirmities, the natural
+captiousness of her temper proportionally exhibited itself. She
+insisted upon the companionship of her son, and that he should not
+leave the house in such unseasonable weather. If he resisted, she fell
+into one of her jealous rages, and taunted him with loving strangers
+better than his own mother. Cadurcis, on the whole, behaved very well;
+he thought of Lady Annabel's injunctions, and restrained his passion.
+Yet he was not repaid for the sacrifice; his mother made no effort
+to render their joint society agreeable, or even endurable. She was
+rarely in an amiable mood, and generally either irritable or sullen.
+If the weather held up a little, and he ventured to pay a visit to
+Cherbury, he was sure to be welcomed back with a fit of passion;
+either Mrs. Cadurcis was angered for being left alone, or had
+fermented herself into fury by the certainty of his catching a fever.
+If Plantagenet remained at the abbey, she was generally sullen; and,
+as he himself was naturally silent under any circumstances, his mother
+would indulge in that charming monologue, so conducive to domestic
+serenity, termed 'talking at a person,' and was continually
+insinuating that she supposed he found it very dull to pass his day
+with her, and that she dared say that somebody could be lively enough
+if he were somewhere else.
+
+Cadurcis would turn pale, and bite his lip, and then leave the room;
+and whole days would sometimes pass with barely a monosyllable being
+exchanged between this parent and child. Cadurcis had found some
+opportunities of pouring forth his griefs and mortification into the
+ear of Venetia, and they had reached her mother; but Lady Annabel,
+though she sympathised with this interesting boy, invariably
+counselled duty. The morning studies were abandoned, but a quantity of
+books were sent over from Cherbury for Plantagenet, and Lady Annabel
+seized every opportunity of conciliating Mrs. Cadurcis' temper in
+favour of her child, by the attention which she paid the mother. The
+weather, however, prevented either herself or Venetia from visiting
+the abbey; and, on the whole, the communications between the two
+establishments and their inmates had become rare.
+
+Though now a continual inmate of the abbey, Cadurcis was seldom the
+companion of his mother. They met at their meals, and that was all. He
+entered the room every day with an intention of conciliating; but the
+mutual tempers of the mother and the son were so quick and sensitive,
+that he always failed in his purpose, and could only avoid a storm
+by dogged silence. This enraged Mrs. Cadurcis more even than his
+impertinence; she had no conduct; she lost all command over herself,
+and did not hesitate to address to her child terms of reproach and
+abuse, which a vulgar mind could only conceive, and a coarse tongue
+alone express. What a contrast to Cherbury, to the mild maternal
+elegance and provident kindness of Lady Annabel, and the sweet tones
+of Venetia's ever-sympathising voice. Cadurcis, though so young, was
+gifted with an innate fastidiousness, that made him shrink from a rude
+woman. His feelings were different in regard to men; he sympathised at
+a very early age with the bold and the energetic; his favourites among
+the peasantry were ever those who excelled in athletic sports; and,
+though he never expressed the opinion, he did not look upon the
+poacher with the evil eye of his class. But a coarse and violent woman
+jarred even his young nerves; and this woman was his mother, his only
+parent, almost his only relation; for he had no near relative except
+a cousin whom he had never even seen, the penniless orphan of a
+penniless brother of his father, and who had been sent to sea; so
+that, after all, his mother was the only natural friend he had. This
+poor little boy would fly from that mother with a sullen brow, or,
+perhaps, even with a harsh and cutting repartee; and then he would
+lock himself up in his room, and weep. But he allowed no witnesses of
+this weakness. The lad was very proud. If any of the household passed
+by as he quitted the saloon, and stared for a moment at his pale and
+agitated face, he would coin a smile for the instant, and say even a
+kind word, for he was very courteous to his inferiors, and all the
+servants loved him, and then take refuge in his solitary woe.
+
+Relieved by this indulgence of his mortified heart, Cadurcis looked
+about him for resources. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the
+plash of the troubled and swollen lake might be heard even at the
+abbey. At night the rising gusts of wind, for the nights were always
+clear and stormy, echoed down the cloisters with a wild moan to which
+he loved to listen. In the morning he beheld with interest the savage
+spoils of the tempest; mighty branches of trees strewn about,
+and sometimes a vast trunk uprooted from its ancient settlement.
+Irresistibly the conviction impressed itself upon his mind that, if
+he were alone in this old abbey, with no mother to break that strange
+fountain of fancies that seemed always to bubble up in his solitude,
+he might be happy. He wanted no companions; he loved to be alone, to
+listen to the winds, and gaze upon the trees and waters, and wander in
+those dim cloisters and that gloomy gallery.
+
+From the first hour of his arrival he had loved the venerable hall of
+his fathers. Its appearance harmonised with all the associations of
+his race. Power and pomp, ancestral fame, the legendary respect of
+ages, all that was great, exciting, and heroic, all that was marked
+out from the commonplace current of human events, hovered round him.
+In the halls of Cadurcis he was the Cadurcis; though a child, he was
+keenly sensible of his high race; his whole being sympathised with
+their glory; he was capable of dying sooner than of disgracing them;
+and then came the memory of his mother's sharp voice and harsh vulgar
+words, and he shivered with disgust.
+
+Forced into solitude, forced to feed upon his own mind, Cadurcis found
+in that solitude each day a dearer charm, and in that mind a richer
+treasure of interest and curiosity. He loved to wander about, dream of
+the past, and conjure up a future as glorious. What was he to be? What
+should be his career? Whither should he wend his course? Even at this
+early age, dreams of far lands flitted over his mind; and schemes of
+fantastic and adventurous life. But now he was a boy, a wretched boy,
+controlled by a vulgar and narrow-minded woman! And this servitude
+must last for years; yes! years must elapse before he was his own
+master. Oh! if he could only pass them alone, without a human voice to
+disturb his musings, a single form to distract his vision!
+
+Under the influence of such feelings, even Cherbury figured to his
+fancy in somewhat faded colours. There, indeed, he was loved and
+cherished; there, indeed, no sound was ever heard, no sight ever seen,
+that could annoy or mortify the high pitch of his unconscious ideal;
+but still, even at Cherbury, he was a child. Under the influence
+of daily intercourse, his tender heart had balanced, perhaps even
+outweighed, his fiery imagination. That constant yet delicate
+affection had softened all his soul: he had no time but to be grateful
+and to love. He returned home only to muse over their sweet society,
+and contrast their refined and gentle life with the harsh rude hearth
+that awaited him. Whatever might be his reception at home, he was
+thrown, back for solace on their memory, not upon his own heart; and
+he felt the delightful conviction that to-morrow would renew the spell
+whose enchantment had enabled him to endure the present vexation. But
+now the magic of that intercourse had ceased; after a few days of
+restlessness and repining, he discovered that he must find in his
+desolation sterner sources of support than the memory of Venetia, and
+the recollections of the domestic joys of Cherbury. It astonishing
+with what rapidity the character of Cadurcis developed itself in
+solitude; and strange was the contrast between the gentle child who,
+a few weeks before, had looked forward with so much interest to
+accompanying Venetia to a childish festival, and the stern and moody
+being who paced the solitary cloisters of Cadurcis, and then would
+withdraw to his lonely chamber and the amusement of a book. He was at
+this time deeply interested in Purchas's Pilgrimage, one of the few
+books of which the late lord had not despoiled him. Narratives of
+travels and voyages always particularly pleased him; he had an idea
+that he was laying up information which might be useful to him
+hereafter; the Cherbury collection was rich in this class of volumes,
+and Lady Annabel encouraged their perusal.
+
+In this way many weeks elapsed at the abbey, during which the visits
+of Plantagenet to Cherbury were very few. Sometimes, if the weather
+cleared for an hour during the morning, he would mount his pony, and
+gallop, without stopping, to the hall. The rapidity of the motion
+excited his mind; he fancied himself, as he embraced Venetia, some
+chieftain who had escaped for a moment from his castle to visit his
+mistress; his imagination conjured up a war between the opposing
+towers of Cadurcis and Cherbury; and when his mother fell into a
+passion on his return, it passed with him only, according to its
+length and spirit, as a brisk skirmish or a general engagement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+One afternoon, on his return from Cherbury, Plantagenet found the fire
+extinguished in the little room which he had appropriated to himself,
+and where he kept his books. As he had expressed his wish to the
+servant that the fire should be kept up, he complained to him of the
+neglect, but was informed, in reply, that the fire had been allowed to
+go out by his mother's orders, and that she desired in future that
+he would always read in the saloon. Plantagenet had sufficient
+self-control to make no observation before the servant, and soon after
+joined his mother, who looked very sullen, as if she were conscious
+that she had laid a train for an explosion.
+
+Dinner was now served, a short and silent meal. Lord Cadurcis did not
+choose to speak because he felt aggrieved, and his mother because
+she was husbanding her energies for the contest which she believed
+impending. At length, when the table was cleared, and the servant
+departed, Cadurcis said in a quiet tone, 'I think I shall write to my
+guardian to-morrow about my going to Eton.'
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, bristling up; 'I
+never heard such a ridiculous idea in my life as a boy like you
+writing letters on such subjects to a person you have never yet seen.
+When I think it proper that you should go to Eton, I shall write.'
+
+'I wish you would think it proper now then, ma'am.'
+
+'I won't be dictated to,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, fiercely.
+
+'I was not dictating,' replied her son, calmly.
+
+'You would if you could,' said his mother.
+
+'Time enough to find fault with me when I do, ma'am.'
+
+'There is enough to find fault about at all times, sir.'
+
+'On which side, Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Plantagenet, with a sneer.
+
+'Don't aggravate me, Lord Cadurcis,' said his mother.
+
+'How am I aggravating you, ma'am?'
+
+'I won't be answered,' said the mother.
+
+'I prefer silence myself,' said the son.
+
+'I won't be insulted in my own room, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'I am not insulting you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Plantagenet, rather
+fiercely; 'and, as for your own room, I never wish to enter it. Indeed
+I should not be here at this moment, had you not ordered my fire to be
+put out, and particularly requested that I should sit in the saloon.'
+
+'Oh! you are a vastly obedient person, I dare say,' replied Mrs.
+Cadurcis, very pettishly. 'How long, I should like to know, have my
+requests received such particular attention? Pooh!'
+
+'Well, then, I will order my fire to be lighted again,' said
+Plantagenet.
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said the mother; 'I am mistress in this
+house. No one shall give orders here but me, and you may write to your
+guardian and tell him that, if you like.'
+
+'I shall certainly not write to my guardian for the first time,' said
+Lord Cadurcis, 'about any such nonsense.'
+
+'Nonsense, sir! Nonsense you said, did you? Your mother nonsense! This
+is the way to treat a parent, is it? I am nonsense, am I? I will teach
+you what nonsense is. Nonsense shall be very good sense; you shall
+find that, sir, that you shall. Nonsense, indeed! I'll write to your
+guardian, that I will! You call your mother nonsense, do you? And
+where did you learn that, I should like to know? Nonsense, indeed!
+This comes of your going to Cherbury! So your mother is nonsense; a
+pretty lesson for Lady Annabel to teach you. Oh! I'll speak my mind to
+her, that I will.'
+
+'What has Lady Annabel to do with it?' inquired Cadurcis, in a loud
+tone.
+
+'Don't threaten me, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, with violent gesture.
+'I won't be menaced; I won't be menaced by my son. Pretty goings
+on, indeed! But I will put a stop to them; will I not? that is all.
+Nonsense, indeed; your mother nonsense!'
+
+'Well, you do talk nonsense, and the greatest,' said Plantagenet,
+doggedly; 'you are talking nonsense now, you are always talking
+nonsense, and you never open your mouth about Lady Annabel without
+talking nonsense.'
+
+'If I was not very ill I would give it you,' said his mother, grinding
+her teeth. 'O you brat! You wicked brat, you! Is this the way to
+address me? I have half a mind to shake your viciousness out of you,
+that I have!
+
+You are worse than your father, that you are!' and here she wept with
+rage.
+
+'I dare say my father was not so bad, after all!' said Cadurcis.
+
+'What should you know about your father, sir?' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+'How dare you speak about your father!'
+
+'Who should speak about a father but a son?'
+
+'Hold your impudence, sir!'
+
+'I am not impudent, ma'am.'
+
+'You aggravating brat!' exclaimed the enraged woman, 'I wish I had
+something to throw at you!'
+
+'Did you throw things at my father?' asked his lordship.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis went into an hysterical rage; then, suddenly jumping up,
+she rushed at her son. Lord Cadurcis took up a position behind
+the table, but the sportive and mocking air which he generally
+instinctively assumed on these occasions, and which, while it
+irritated his mother more, was in reality affected by the boy from a
+sort of nervous desire of preventing these dreadful exposures from
+assuming a too tragic tone, did not characterise his countenance on
+the present occasion; on the contrary, it was pale, but composed and
+very serious. Mrs. Cadurcis, after one or two ineffectual attempts to
+catch him, paused and panted for breath. He took advantage of this
+momentary cessation, and spoke thus, 'Mother, I am in no humour for
+frolics. I moved out of your way that you might not strike me, because
+I have made up my mind that, if you ever strike me again, I will live
+with you no longer. Now, I have given you warning; do what you please;
+I shall sit down in this chair, and not move. If you strike me, you
+know the consequences.' So saying, his lordship resumed his chair.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis simultaneously sprang forward and boxed his ears; and
+then her son rose without the slightest expression of any kind, and
+slowly quitted the chamber.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis remained alone in a savage sulk; hours passed away, and
+her son never made his appearance. Then she rang the bell, and ordered
+the servant to tell Lord Cadurcis that tea was ready; but the servant
+returned, and reported that his lordship had locked himself up in his
+room, and would not reply to his inquiries. Determined not to give in,
+Mrs. Cadurcis, at length, retired for the night, rather regretting her
+violence, but still sullen. Having well scolded her waiting-woman, she
+at length fell asleep.
+
+The morning brought breakfast, but no Lord Cadurcis; in vain were all
+the messages of his mother, her son would make no reply to them. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, at length, personally repaired to his room and knocked at
+the door, but she was as unsuccessful as the servants; she began to
+think he would starve, and desired the servant to offer from himself
+to bring his meal. Still silence. Indignant at his treatment of these
+overtures of conciliation, Mrs. Cadurcis returned to the saloon,
+confident that hunger, if no other impulse, would bring her wild cub
+out of his lair; but, just before dinner, her waiting-woman came
+running into the room.
+
+'Oh, ma'am, ma'am, I don't know where Lord Cadurcis has gone; but I
+have just seen John, and he says there was no pony in the stable this
+morning.'
+
+'Mrs. Cadurcis sprang up, rushed to her son's chamber, found the door
+still locked, ordered it to be burst open, and then it turned out that
+his lordship had never been there at all, for the bed was unused. Mrs.
+Cadurcis was frightened out of her life; the servants, to console
+her, assured her that Plantagenet must be at Cherbury; and while she
+believed their representations, which were probable, she became not
+only more composed, but resumed her jealousy and sullenness. 'Gone
+to Cherbury, indeed! No doubt of it! Let him remain at Cherbury.'
+Execrating Lady Annabel, she flung herself into an easy chair, and
+dined alone, preparing herself to speak her mind on her son's return.
+
+The night, however, did not bring him, and Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+recur to her alarm. Much as she now disliked Lady Annabel, she
+could not resist the conviction that her ladyship would not permit
+Plantagenet to remain at Cherbury. Nevertheless, jealous, passionate,
+and obstinate, she stifled her fears, vented her spleen on her unhappy
+domestics, and, finally, exhausting herself by a storm of passion
+about some very unimportant subject, again sought refuge in sleep.
+
+She awoke early in a fright, and inquired immediately for her son.
+He had not been seen. She ordered the abbey bell to be sounded, sent
+messengers throughout the demesne, and directed all the offices to
+be searched. At first she thought he must have returned, and slept,
+perhaps in a barn; then she adopted the more probable conclusion, that
+he had drowned himself in the lake. Then she went into hysterics;
+called Plantagenet her lost darling; declared he was the best and most
+dutiful of sons, and the image of his poor father, then abused all the
+servants, and then abused herself.
+
+About noon she grew quite distracted, and rushed about the house
+with her hair dishevelled, and in a dressing-gown, looked in all the
+closets, behind the screens, under the chairs, into her work-box, but,
+strange to say, with no success. Then she went off into a swoon, and
+her servants, alike frightened about master and mistress, mother and
+son, dispatched a messenger immediately to Cherbury for intelligence,
+advice, and assistance. In less than an hour's time the messenger
+returned, and informed them that Lord Cadurcis had not been at
+Cherbury since two days back, but that Lady Annabel was very sorry
+to hear that their mistress was so ill, and would come on to see her
+immediately. In the meantime, Lady Annabel added that she had sent
+to Dr. Masham, and had great hopes that Lord Cadurcis was at
+Marringhurst. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had now come to, as her waiting-woman
+described the returning consciousness of her mistress, eagerly
+embraced the hope held out of Plantagenet being at Marringhurst,
+poured forth a thousand expressions of gratitude, admiration, and
+affection for Lady Annabel, who, she declared, was her best, her only
+friend, and the being in the world whom she loved most, next to her
+unhappy and injured child.
+
+After another hour of suspense Lady Annabel arrived, and her entrance
+was the signal for a renewed burst of hysterics from Mrs. Cadurcis, so
+wild and terrible that they must have been contagious to any female of
+less disciplined emotions than her guest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Towards evening Dr. Masham arrived at Cadurcis. He could give no
+intelligence of Plantagenet, who had not called at Marringhurst; but
+he offered, and was prepared, to undertake his pursuit. The good
+Doctor had his saddle-bags well stocked, and was now on his way to
+Southport, that being the nearest town, and where he doubted not
+to gain some tidings of the fugitive. Mrs. Cadurcis he found so
+indisposed, that he anticipated the charitable intentions of Lady
+Annabel not to quit her; and after having bid them place their
+confidence in Providence and his humble exertions, he at once departed
+on his researches.
+
+In the meantime let us return to the little lord himself. Having
+secured the advantage of a long start, by the device of turning the
+key of his chamber, he repaired to the stables, and finding no one
+to observe him, saddled his pony and galloped away without plan or
+purpose. An instinctive love of novelty and adventure induced him to
+direct his course by a road which he had never before pursued; and,
+after two or three miles progress through a wild open country of
+brushwood, he found that he had entered that considerable forest which
+formed the boundary of many of the views from Cadurcis. The afternoon
+was clear and still, the sun shining in the light blue sky, and the
+wind altogether hushed. On each side of the winding road spread the
+bright green turf, occasionally shaded by picturesque groups of
+doddered oaks. The calm beauty of the sylvan scene wonderfully touched
+the fancy of the youthful fugitive; it soothed and gratified him. He
+pulled up his pony; patted its lively neck, as if in gratitude for
+its good service, and, confident that he could not be successfully
+pursued, indulged in a thousand dreams of Robin Hood and his merry
+men. As for his own position and prospects, he gave himself no anxiety
+about them: satisfied with his escape from a revolting thraldom, his
+mind seemed to take a bound from the difficulty of his situation and
+the wildness of the scene, and he felt himself a man, and one, too,
+whom nothing could daunt or appal.
+
+Soon the road itself quite disappeared and vanished in a complete
+turfy track; but the continuing marks of cartwheels assured him that
+it was a thoroughfare, although he was now indeed journeying in the
+heart of a forest of oaks and he doubted not it would lead to some
+town or village, or at any rate to some farmhouse. Towards sunset, he
+determined to make use of the remaining light, and pushed on apace;
+but it soon grew so dark, that he found it necessary to resume his
+walking pace, from fear of the overhanging branches and the trunks of
+felled trees which occasionally crossed his way.
+
+Notwithstanding the probable prospect of passing his night in the
+forest, our little adventurer did not lose heart. Cadurcis was an
+intrepid child, and when in the company of those with whom he was not
+familiar, and free from those puerile associations to which those who
+had known and lived with him long were necessarily subject, he would
+assume a staid and firm demeanour unusual with one of such tender
+years. A light in the distance was now not only a signal that
+the shelter he desired was at hand, but reminded him that it was
+necessary, by his assured port, to prove that he was not unused to
+travel alone, and that he was perfectly competent and qualified to be
+his own master.
+
+As he drew nearer, the lights multiplied, and the moon, which now rose
+over the forest, showed to him that the trees, retiring on both sides
+to some little distance, left a circular plot of ground, on which were
+not only the lights which had at first attracted his attention, but
+the red flames of a watch-fire, round which some dark figures had
+hitherto been clustered. The sound of horses' feet had disturbed them,
+and the fire was now more and more visible. As Cadurcis approached, he
+observed some low tents, and in a few minutes he was in the centre of
+an encampment of gipsies. He was for a moment somewhat dismayed, for
+he had been brought up with the usual terror of these wild people;
+nevertheless, he was not unequal to the occasion. He was surrounded in
+an instant, but only with women and children; for the gipsy-men never
+immediately appear. They smiled with their bright eyes, and the flames
+of the watch-fire threw a lurid glow over their dark and flashing
+countenances; they held out their practised hands; they uttered
+unintelligible, but not unfriendly sounds. The heart of Cadurcis
+faltered, but his voice did not betray him.
+
+'I am cold, good people,' said the undaunted boy; 'will you let me
+warm myself by your fire?'
+
+A beautiful girl, with significant gestures, pressed her hand to her
+heart, then pointed in the direction of the tents, and then rushed
+away, soon reappearing with a short thin man, inclining to middle age,
+but of a compact and apparently powerful frame, lithe, supple, and
+sinewy. His complexion was dark, but clear; his eye large, liquid, and
+black; but his other features small, though precisely moulded. He wore
+a green jacket and a pair of black velvet breeches, his legs and feet
+being bare, with the exception of slippers. Round his head was twisted
+a red handkerchief, which, perhaps, might not have looked like a
+turban on a countenance less oriental.
+
+'What would the young master?' inquired the gipsy-man, in a voice far
+from disagreeable, and with a gesture of courtesy; but, at the same
+time, he shot a scrutinising glance first at Plantagenet, and then at
+his pony.
+
+'I would remain with you,' said Cadurcis; 'that is, if you will let
+me.'
+
+The gipsy-man made a sign to the women, and Plantagenet was lifted
+by them off his pony, before he could be aware of their purpose; the
+children led the pony away, and the gipsy-man conducted Plantagenet to
+the fire, where an old woman sat, presiding over the mysteries of an
+enormous flesh-pot. Immediately his fellows, who had originally been
+clustered around it, re-appeared; fresh blocks and branches were
+thrown on, the flames crackled and rose, the men seated themselves
+around, and Plantagenet, excited by the adventure, rubbed his hands
+before the fire, and determined to fear nothing.
+
+A savoury steam exuded from the flesh-pot.
+
+'That smells well,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Tis a dimber cove,'[A] whispered one of the younger men to a
+companion.
+
+[Footnote A: 'Tis a lively lad.]
+
+'Our supper has but rough seasoning for such as you,' said the man who
+had first saluted him, and who was apparently the leader; 'but the
+welcome is hearty.'
+
+The woman and girls now came with wooden bowls and platters, and,
+after serving the men, seated themselves in an exterior circle, the
+children playing round them.
+
+'Come, old mort,' said the leader, in a very different tone to the one
+in which he addressed his young guest, 'tout the cobble-colter; are we
+to have darkmans upon us? And, Beruna, flick the panam.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Come, old woman, took after the turkey. Are we to wait
+till night! And, Beruna, cut the bread.]
+
+Upon this, that beautiful girl, who had at first attracted the notice
+of Cadurcis, called out in a sweet lively voice, 'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+and in a moment handed over the heads of the women a pannier of bread,
+which the leader took, and offered its contents to our fugitive.
+Cadurcis helped himself, with a bold but gracious air. The pannier was
+then passed round, and the old woman, opening the pot, drew out, with
+a huge iron fork, a fine turkey, which she tossed into a large wooden
+platter, and cut up with great quickness. First she helped Morgana,
+but only gained a reproof for her pains, who immediately yielded his
+portion to Plantagenet. Each man was provided with his knife, but the
+guest had none. Morgana immediately gave up his own.
+
+'Beruna!' he shouted, 'gibel a chiv for the gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Bring a knife for the gentleman.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!' said the girl; and she brought the knife to
+Plantagenet himself, saying at the same time, with sparkling eyes,
+'Yam, yam, gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Eat, eat, gentleman.]
+
+Cadurcis really thought it was the most delightful meal he had ever
+made in his life. The flesh-pot held something besides turkeys. Rough
+as was the fare, it was good and plentiful. As for beverage, they
+drank humpty-dumpty, which is ale boiled with brandy, and which is
+not one of the slightest charms of a gipsy's life. When the men were
+satisfied, their platters were filled, and given to the women and
+children; and Beruna, with her portion, came and seated herself by
+Plantagenet, looking at him with a blended glance of delight and
+astonishment, like a beautiful young savage, and then turning to her
+female companions to stifle a laugh. The flesh-pot was carried away,
+the men lit their pipes, the fire was replenished, its red shadow
+mingled with the silver beams of the moon; around were the glittering
+tents and the silent woods; on all sides flashing eyes and picturesque
+forms. Cadurcis glanced at his companions, and gazed upon the scene
+with feelings of ravishing excitement; and then, almost unconscious of
+what he was saying, exclaimed, 'At length I have found the life that
+suits me!'
+
+'Indeed, squire!' said Morgana. 'Would you be one of us?'
+
+'From this moment,' said Cadurcis, 'if you will admit me to your band.
+But what can I do? And I have nothing to give you. You must teach me
+to earn my right to our supper.'
+
+'We'll make a Turkey merchant[A] of you yet,' said an old gipsy,
+'never fear that.'
+
+[Footnote A: _i.e._ We will teach you to steal a turkey]
+
+'Bah, Peter!' said Morgana, with an angry look, 'your red rag will
+never be still. And what was the purpose of your present travel?' he
+continued to Plantagenet.
+
+'None; I was sick of silly home.'
+
+'The gentry cove will be romboyled by his dam,' said a third gipsy.
+'Queer Cuffin will be the word yet, if we don't tout.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: His mother will make a hue and cry after the gentleman
+yet; justice of the peace will be the word, if we don't look sharp.]
+
+'Well, you shall see a little more of us before you decide,' said
+Morgana, thoughtfully, and turning the conversation. 'Beruna.'
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+
+'Tip me the clank, like a dimber mort as you are; trim a ken for the
+gentry cove; he is no lanspresado, or I am a kinchin.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Give me the tankard, like a pretty girl. Get a bed ready
+for the gentleman. He is no informer, or I am an infant.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana' gaily exclaimed the girl, and she ran off to prepare
+a bed for the Lord of Cadurcis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Dr. Masham could gain no tidings of the object of his pursuit at
+Southport: here, however, he ascertained that Plantagenet could not
+have fled to London, for in those days public conveyances were rare.
+There was only one coach that ran, or rather jogged, along this road,
+and it went but once a week, it being expected that very night; while
+the innkeeper was confident that so far as Southport was concerned,
+his little lordship had not sought refuge in the waggon, which
+was more frequent, though somewhat slower, in its progress to the
+metropolis. Unwilling to return home, although the evening was now
+drawing in, the Doctor resolved to proceed to a considerable town
+about twelve miles further, which Cadurcis might have reached by a
+cross road; so drawing his cloak around him, looking to his pistols,
+and desiring his servant to follow his example, the stout-hearted
+Rector of Marringhurst pursued his way.
+
+It was dark when the Doctor entered the town, and he proceeded
+immediately to the inn where the coach was expected, with some faint
+hope that the fugitive might be discovered abiding within its walls;
+but, to all his inquiries about young gentlemen and ponies, he
+received very unsatisfactory answers; so, reconciling himself as well
+as he could to the disagreeable posture of affairs, he settled himself
+in the parlour of the inn, with a good fire, and, lighting his pipe,
+desired his servant to keep a sharp look-out.
+
+In due time a great uproar in the inn-yard announced the arrival of
+the stage, an unwieldy machine, carrying six inside, and dragged by as
+many horses. The Doctor, opening the door of his apartment, which
+led on to a gallery that ran round the inn-yard, leaned over the
+balustrade with his pipe in his mouth, and watched proceedings. It so
+happened that the stage was to discharge one of its passengers at this
+town, who had come from the north, and the Doctor recognised in him a
+neighbour and brother magistrate, one Squire Mountmeadow, an important
+personage in his way, the terror of poachers, and somewhat of an
+oracle on the bench, as it was said that he could take a deposition
+without the assistance of his clerk. Although, in spite of the
+ostler's lanterns, it was very dark, it was impossible ever to be
+unaware of the arrival of Squire Mountmeadow; for he was one of those
+great men who take care to remind the world of their dignity by the
+attention which they require on every occasion.
+
+'Coachman!' said the authoritative voice of the Squire. 'Where is the
+coachman? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Postilion! Where is the
+postilion? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Host! Where is the host?
+Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Waiter! Where is the waiter? I say
+where is the waiter?'
+
+'Coming, please your worship!'
+
+'How long am I to wait? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Coachman!'
+
+'Your worship!'
+
+'Postilion!'
+
+'Yes, your worship!'
+
+'Host!'
+
+'Your worship's servant!'
+
+'Waiter!'
+
+'Your worship's honour's humble servant!'
+
+'I am going to alight!'
+
+All four attendants immediately bowed, and extended their arms to
+assist this very great man; but Squire Mountmeadow, scarcely deigning
+to avail himself of their proffered assistance, and pausing on each
+step, looking around him with his long, lean, solemn visage, finally
+reached terra firma in safety, and slowly stretched his tall, ungainly
+figure. It was at this moment that Dr. Masham's servant approached
+him, and informed his worship that his master was at the inn, and
+would be happy to see him. The countenance of the great Mountmeadow
+relaxed at the mention of the name of a brother magistrate, and in an
+audible voice he bade the groom 'tell my worthy friend, his worship,
+your worthy master, that I shall be rejoiced to pay my respects to an
+esteemed neighbour and a brother magistrate.'
+
+With slow and solemn steps, preceded by the host, and followed by the
+waiter, Squire Mountmeadow ascended the staircase of the external
+gallery, pausing occasionally, and looking around him with thoughtful
+importance, and making an occasional inquiry as to the state of the
+town and neighbourhood during his absence, in this fashion: 'Stop!
+where are you, host? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Well, Mr. Host,
+and how have we been? orderly, eh?'
+
+'Quite orderly, your worship.'
+
+'Hoh! Orderly! Hem! Well, very well! Never easy, if absent only
+four-and-twenty hours. The law must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship.'
+
+'Lead on, sir. And, waiter; where are you, waiter? Oh, you are there,
+sir, are you? And so my brother magistrate is here?'
+
+'Yes, your honour's worship.'
+
+'Hem! What can he want? something in the wind; wants my advice, I dare
+say; shall have it. Soldiers ruly; king's servants; must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship; quite ruly, your worship,' said the host.
+
+'As obliging and obstreperous as can be,' said the waiter.
+
+'Well, very well;' and here the Squire had gained the gallery, where
+the Doctor was ready to receive him.
+
+'It always gives me pleasure to meet a brother magistrate,' said
+Squire Mountmeadow, bowing with cordial condescension; 'and a
+gentleman of your cloth, too. The clergy must be respected; I stand or
+fall by the Church. After you, Doctor, after you.' So saying, the two
+magistrates entered the room.
+
+'An unexpected pleasure, Doctor,' said the Squire; 'and what brings
+your worship to town?'
+
+'A somewhat strange business,' said the Doctor; 'and indeed I am not a
+little glad to have the advantage of your advice and assistance.'
+
+'Hem! I thought so,' said the Squire; 'your worship is very
+complimentary. What is the case? Larceny?'
+
+'Nay, my good sir, 'tis a singular affair; and, if you please, we will
+order supper first, and discuss it afterwards. 'Tis for your private
+ear.'
+
+'Oh! ho!' said the Squire, looking very mysterious and important.
+'With your worship's permission,' he added, filling a pipe.
+
+The host was no laggard in waiting on two such important guests. The
+brother magistrates despatched their rump-steak; the foaming tankard
+was replenished; the fire renovated. At length, the table and the room
+being alike clear, Squire Mountmeadow drew a long puff, and said, 'Now
+for business, Doctor.'
+
+His companion then informed him of the exact object of his visit, and
+narrated to him so much of the preceding incidents as was necessary.
+The Squire listened in solemn silence, elevating his eyebrows, nodding
+his head, trimming his pipe, with profound interjections; and finally,
+being appealed to for his opinion by the Doctor, delivered himself of
+a most portentous 'Hem!'
+
+'I question, Doctor,' said the Squire, 'whether we should not
+communicate with the Secretary of State. 'Tis no ordinary business.
+'Tis a spiriting away of a Peer of the realm. It smacks of treason.'
+
+'Egad!' said the Doctor, suppressing a smile, 'I think we can hardly
+make a truant boy a Cabinet question.'
+
+The Squire glanced a look of pity at his companion. 'Prove the
+truancy, Doctor; prove it. 'Tis a case of disappearance; and how do we
+know that there is not a Jesuit at the bottom of it?'
+
+'There is something in that,' said the Doctor.
+
+'There is everything in it,' said the Squire, triumphantly. 'We must
+offer rewards; we must raise the posse comitatus.'
+
+'For the sake of the family, I would make as little stir as
+necessary,' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'For the sake of the family!' said the Squire. 'Think of the nation,
+sir! For the sake of the nation we must make as much stir as possible.
+'Tis a Secretary of State's business; 'tis a case for a general
+warrant.'
+
+'He is a well-meaning lad enough,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Ay, and therefore more easily played upon,' said the Squire. 'Rome is
+at the bottom of it, brother Masham, and I am surprised that a good
+Protestant like yourself, one of the King's Justices of the Peace, and
+a Doctor of Divinity to boot, should doubt the fact for an instant.'
+
+'We have not heard much of the Jesuits of late years,' said the
+Doctor.
+
+'The very reason that they are more active,' said the Squire.
+
+'An only child!' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'A Peer of the realm!' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'I should think he must be in the neighbourhood.'
+
+'More likely at St. Omer's.'
+
+'They would scarely take him to the plantations with this war?'
+
+'Let us drink "Confusion to the rebels!"' said the Squire. 'Any news?'
+
+'Howe sails this week,' said the Doctor.
+
+'May he burn Boston!' said the Squire.
+
+'I would rather he would reduce it, without such extremities,' said
+Dr. Masham.
+
+'Nothing is to be done without extremities,' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'But this poor child?' said the Doctor, leading back the conversation.
+'What can we do?'
+
+'The law of the case is clear,' said the Squire; 'we must move a
+habeas corpus.'
+
+'But shall we be nearer getting him for that?' inquired the Doctor.
+
+'Perhaps not, sir; but 'tis the regular way. We must proceed by rule.'
+
+'I am sadly distressed,' said Dr. Masham. 'The worst is, he has gained
+such a start upon us; and yet he can hardly have gone to London; he
+would have been recognised here or at Southport.'
+
+'With his hair cropped, and in a Jesuit's cap?' inquired the Squire,
+with a slight sneer. 'Ah! Doctor, Doctor, you know not the gentry you
+have to deal with!'
+
+'We must hope,' said Dr. Masham. 'To-morrow we must organise some
+general search.'
+
+'I fear it will be of no use,' said the Squire, replenishing his pipe.
+'These Jesuits are deep fellows.'
+
+'But we are not sure about the Jesuits, Squire.'
+
+'I am,' said the Squire; 'the case is clear, and the sooner you break
+it to his mother the better. You asked me for my advice, and I give it
+you.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+It was on the following morning, as the Doctor was under the operation
+of the barber, that his groom ran into the room with a pale face and
+agitated air, and exclaimed,
+
+'Oh! master, master, what do you think? Here is a man in the yard with
+my lord's pony.'
+
+'Stop him, Peter,' exclaimed the Doctor. 'No! watch him, watch him;
+send for a constable. Are you certain 'tis the pony?'
+
+'I could swear to it out of a thousand,' said Peter.
+
+'There, never mind my beard, my good man,' said the Doctor. 'There is
+no time for appearances. Here is a robbery, at least; God grant no
+worse. Peter, my boots!' So saying, the Doctor, half equipped, and
+followed by Peter and the barber, went forth on the gallery. 'Where is
+he?' said the Doctor.
+
+'He is down below, talking to the ostler, and trying to sell the
+pony,' said Peter.
+
+'There is no time to lose,' said the Doctor; 'follow me, like true
+men:' and the Doctor ran downstairs in his silk nightcap, for his wig
+was not yet prepared.
+
+'There he is,' said Peter; and true enough there was a man in a
+smock-frock and mounted on the very pony which Lady Annabel had
+presented to Plantagenet.
+
+'Seize this man in the King's name,' said the Doctor, hastily
+advancing to him. 'Ostler, do your duty; Peter, be firm. I charge you
+all; I am a justice of the peace. I charge you arrest this man.'
+
+The man seemed very much astonished; but he was composed, and offered
+no resistance. He was dressed like a small farmer, in top-boots and a
+smock-frock. His hat was rather jauntily placed on his curly red hair.
+
+'Why am I seized?' at length said the man.
+
+'Where did you get that pony?' said the Doctor.
+
+'I bought it,' was the reply.
+
+'Of whom?'
+
+'A stranger at market.'
+
+'You are accused of robbery, and suspected of murder,' said Dr.
+Masham. 'Mr. Constable,' said the Doctor, turning to that functionary,
+who had now arrived, 'handcuff this man, and keep him in strict
+custody until further orders.'
+
+The report that a man was arrested for robbery, and suspected of
+murder, at the Red Dragon, spread like wildfire through the town;
+and the inn-yard was soon crowded with the curious and excited
+inhabitants.
+
+Peter and the barber, to whom he had communicated everything, were
+well qualified to do justice to the important information of which
+they were the sole depositaries; the tale lost nothing by their
+telling; and a circumstantial narrative of the robbery and murder of
+no less a personage than Lord Cadurcis, of Cadurcis Abbey, was soon
+generally prevalent.
+
+The stranger was secured in a stable, before which the constable kept
+guard; mine host, and the waiter, and the ostlers acted as a sort of
+supernumerary police, to repress the multitude; while Peter held the
+real pony by the bridle, whose identity, which he frequently attested,
+was considered by all present as an incontrovertible evidence of the
+commission of the crime.
+
+In the meantime Dr. Masham, really agitated, roused his brother
+magistrate, and communicated to his worship the important discovery.
+The Squire fell into a solemn flutter. 'We must be regular, brother
+Masham; we must proceed by rule; we are a bench in ourselves. Would
+that my clerk were here! We must send for Signsealer forthwith. I will
+not decide without the statutes. The law must be consulted, and it
+must be obeyed. The fellow hath not brought my wig. 'Tis a case of
+murder no doubt. A Peer of the realm murdered! You must break the
+intelligence to his surviving parent, and I will communicate to the
+Secretary of State. Can the body be found? That will prove the murder.
+Unless the body be found, the murder will not be proved, save
+the villain confess, which he will not do unless he hath sudden
+compunctions. I have known sudden compunctions go a great way. We had
+a case before our bench last month; there was no evidence. It was not
+a case of murder; it was of woodcutting; there was no evidence; but
+the defendant had compunctions. Oh! here is my wig. We must send for
+Signsealer. He is clerk to our bench, and he must bring the statutes.
+'Tis not simple murder this; it involves petty treason.'
+
+By this time his worship had completed his toilet, and he and his
+colleague took their way to the parlour they had inhabited the
+preceding evening. Mr. Signsealer was in attendance, much to the real,
+though concealed, satisfaction of Squire Mountmeadow. Their worships
+were seated like two consuls before the table, which Mr. Signsealer
+had duly arranged with writing materials and various piles of
+calf-bound volumes. Squire Mountmeadow then, arranging his
+countenance, announced that the bench was prepared, and mine host was
+instructed forthwith to summon the constable and his charge, together
+with Peter and the ostler as witnesses. There was a rush among some of
+the crowd who were nighest the scene to follow the prisoner into the
+room; and, sooth to say, the great Mountmeadow was much too enamoured
+of his own self-importance to be by any means a patron of close courts
+and private hearings; but then, though he loved his power to be
+witnessed, he was equally desirous that his person should be
+reverenced. It was his boast that he could keep a court of quarter
+sessions as quiet as a church; and now, when the crowd rushed in with
+all those sounds of tumult incidental to such a movement, it required
+only Mountmeadow slowly to rise, and drawing himself up to the full
+height of his gaunt figure, to knit his severe brow, and throw one
+of his peculiar looks around the chamber, to insure a most awful
+stillness. Instantly everything was so hushed, that you might have
+heard Signsealer nib his pen.
+
+The witnesses were sworn; Peter proved that the pony belonged to Lord
+Cadurcis, and that his lordship had been missing from home for several
+days, and was believed to have quitted the abbey on this identical
+pony. Dr. Masham was ready, if necessary, to confirm this evidence.
+The accused adhered to his first account, that he had purchased the
+animal the day before at a neighbouring fair, and doggedly declined to
+answer any cross-examination. Squire Mountmeadow looked alike pompous
+and puzzled; whispered to the Doctor; and then shook his head at Mr.
+Signsealer.
+
+'I doubt whether there be satisfactory evidence of the murder, brother
+Masham,' said the Squire; 'what shall be our next step?'
+
+'There is enough evidence to keep this fellow in custody,' said the
+Doctor. 'We must remand him, and make inquiries at the market town.
+I shall proceed there immediately, He is a strange-looking fellow,'
+added the Doctor: 'were it not for his carroty locks, I should
+scarcely take him for a native.'
+
+'Hem!' said the Squire, 'I have my suspicions. Fellow,' continued his
+worship, in an awful tone, 'you say that you are a stranger, and that
+your name is Morgan; very suspicious all this: you have no one to
+speak to your character or station, and you are found in possession of
+stolen goods. The bench will remand you for the present, and will at
+any rate commit you for trial for the robbery. But here is a Peer of
+the realm missing, fellow, and you are most grievously suspected of
+being concerned in his spiriting away, or even murder. You are upon
+tender ground, prisoner; 'tis a case verging on petty treason, if not
+petty treason itself. Eh! Mr. Signsealer? Thus runs the law, as I take
+it? Prisoner, it would be well for you to consider your situation.
+Have you no compunctions? Compunctions might save you, if not a
+principal offender. It is your duty to assist the bench in executing
+justice. The Crown is merciful; you may be king's evidence.'
+
+Mr. Signsealer whispered the bench; he proposed that the prisoner's
+hat should be examined, as the name of its maker might afford a clue
+to his residence.
+
+'True, true, Mr. Clerk,' said Squire Mountmeadow, 'I am coming to
+that. 'Tis a sound practice; I have known such a circumstance lead to
+great disclosures. But we must proceed in order. Order is everything.
+Constable, take the prisoner's hat off.'
+
+The constable took the hat off somewhat rudely; so rudely, indeed,
+that the carroty locks came off in company with it, and revealed a
+profusion of long plaited hair, which had been adroitly twisted under
+the wig, more in character with the countenance than its previous
+covering.
+
+'A Jesuit, after all!' exclaimed the Squire.
+
+'A gipsy, as it seems to me,' whispered the Doctor.
+
+'Still worse,' said the Squire.
+
+'Silence in the Court!' exclaimed the awful voice of Squire
+Mountmeadow, for the excitement of the audience was considerable.
+The disguise was generally esteemed as incontestable evidence of the
+murder. 'Silence, or I will order the Court to be cleared. Constable,
+proclaim silence. This is an awful business,' added the Squire, with a
+very long face. 'Brother Masham, we must do our duty; but this is an
+awful business. At any rate we must try to discover the body. A Peer
+of the realm must not be suffered to lie murdered in a ditch. He must
+have Christian burial, if possible, in the vaults of his ancestors.'
+
+When Morgana, for it was indeed he, observed the course affairs were
+taking, and ascertained that his detention under present circumstances
+was inevitable, he relaxed from his doggedness, and expressed a
+willingness to make a communication to the bench. Squire Mountmeadow
+lifted up his eyes to Heaven, as if entreating the interposition of
+Providence to guide him in his course; then turned to his brother
+magistrate, and then nodded to the clerk.
+
+'He has compunctions, brother Masham,' said his worship: 'I told you
+so; he has compunctions. Trust me to deal with these fellows. He knew
+not his perilous situation; the hint of petty treason staggered him.
+Mr. Clerk, take down the prisoner's confession; the Court must be
+cleared; constable, clear the Court. Let a stout man stand on each
+side of the prisoner, to protect the bench. The magistracy of England
+will never shrink from doing their duty, but they must be protected.
+Now, prisoner, the bench is ready to hear your confession. Conceal
+nothing, and if you were not a principal in the murder, or an
+accessory before the fact; eh, Mr. Clerk, thus runs the law, as I take
+it? there may be mercy; at any rate, if you be hanged, you will have
+the satisfaction of having cheerfully made the only atonement to
+society in your power.'
+
+'Hanging be damned!' said Morgana.
+
+Squire Mountmeadow started from his seat, his cheeks distended with
+rage, his dull eyes for once flashing fire. 'Did you ever witness such
+atrocity, brother Masham?' exclaimed his worship. 'Did you hear the
+villain? I'll teach him to respect the bench. I'll fine him before he
+is executed, that I will!'
+
+'The young gentleman to whom this pony belongs,' continued the gipsy,
+'may or may not be a lord. I never asked him his name, and he never
+told it me; but he sought hospitality of me and my people, and we gave
+it him, and he lives with us, of his own free choice. The pony is of
+no use to him now, and so I came to sell it for our common good.'
+
+'A Peer of the realm turned gipsy!' exclaimed the Squire. 'A very
+likely tale! I'll teach you to come here and tell your cock-and-bull
+stories to two of his majesty's justices of the peace. 'Tis a flat
+case of robbery and murder, and I venture to say something else. You
+shall go to gaol directly, and the Lord have mercy on your soul!'
+
+'Nay,' said the gipsy, appealing to Dr. Marsham; 'you, sir, appear to
+be a friend of this youth. You will not regain him by sending me to
+gaol. Load me, if you will, with irons; surround me with armed men,
+but at least give me the opportunity of proving the truth of what I
+say. I offer in two hours to produce to you the youth, and you shall
+find he is living with my people in content and peace.'
+
+'Content and fiddlestick!' said the Squire, in a rage.
+
+'Brother Mountmeadow,' said the Doctor, in a low tone, to his
+colleague, 'I have private duties to perform to this family. Pardon
+me if, with all deference to your sounder judgment and greater
+experience, I myself accept the prisoner's offer.'
+
+'Brother Masham, you are one of his majesty's justices of the peace,
+you are a brother magistrate, and you are a Doctor of Divinity; you
+owe a duty to your country, and you owe a duty to yourself. Is it
+wise, is it decorous, that one of the Quorum should go a-gipsying?
+Is it possible that you can credit this preposterous tale? Brother
+Masham, there will be a rescue, or my name is not Mountmeadow.'
+
+In spite, however, of all these solemn warnings, the good Doctor, who
+was not altogether unaware of the character of his pupil, and could
+comprehend that it was very possible the statement of the gipsy might
+be genuine, continued without very much offending his colleague, who
+looked upon, his conduct indeed rather with pity than resentment,
+to accept the offer of Morgana; and consequently, well-secured and
+guarded, and preceding the Doctor, who rode behind the cart with his
+servant, the gipsy soon sallied forth from the inn-yard, and requested
+the driver to guide his course in the direction of the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+It was the afternoon of the third day after the arrival of Cadurcis at
+the gipsy encampment, and nothing had yet occurred to make him repent
+his flight from the abbey, and the choice of life he had made. He had
+experienced nothing but kindness and hospitality, while the beautiful
+Beruna seemed quite content to pass her life in studying his
+amusement. The weather, too, had been extremely favourable to his new
+mode of existence; and stretched at his length upon the rich turf,
+with his head on Beruna's lap, and his eyes fixed upon the rich forest
+foliage glowing in the autumnal sunset, Plantagenet only wondered
+that he could have endured for so many years the shackles of his
+common-place home.
+
+His companions were awaiting the return of their leader, Morgana,
+who had been absent since the preceding day, and who had departed on
+Plantagenet's pony. Most of them were lounging or strolling in the
+vicinity of their tents; the children were playing; the old woman was
+cooking at the fire; and altogether, save that the hour was not so
+late, the scene presented much the same aspect as when Cadurcis had
+first beheld it. As for his present occupation, Beruna was giving him
+a lesson in the gipsy language, which he was acquiring with a rapid
+facility, which quite exceeded all his previous efforts in such
+acquisitions.
+
+Suddenly a scout sang out that a party was in sight. The men instantly
+disappeared; the women were on the alert; and one ran forward as a
+spy, on pretence of telling fortunes. This bright-eyed professor of
+palmistry soon, however, returned running, and out of breath, yet
+chatting all the time with inconceivable rapidity, and accompanying
+the startling communication she was evidently making with the most
+animated gestures. Beruna started up, and, leaving the astonished
+Cadurcis, joined them. She seemed alarmed. Cadurcis was soon convinced
+there was consternation in the camp.
+
+Suddenly a horseman galloped up, and was immediately followed by a
+companion. They called out, as if encouraging followers, and one of
+them immediately galloped away again, as if to detail the results
+of their reconnaissance. Before Cadurcis could well rise and make
+inquiries as to what was going on, a light cart, containing several
+men, drove up, and in it, a prisoner, he detected Morgana. The
+branches of the trees concealed for a moment two other horsemen
+who followed the cart; but Cadurcis, to his infinite alarm and
+mortification, soon recognised Dr. Masham and Peter.
+
+When the gipsies found their leader was captive, they no longer
+attempted to conceal themselves; they all came forward, and would have
+clustered round the cart, had not the riders, as well as those who
+more immediately guarded the prisoner, prevented them. Morgana spoke
+some words in a loud voice to the gipsies, and they immediately
+appeared less agitated; then turning to Dr. Masham, he said in
+English, 'Behold your child!'
+
+Instantly two gipsy men seized Cadurcis, and led him to the Doctor.
+
+'How now, my lord!' said the worthy Rector, in a stern voice, 'is this
+your duty to your mother and your friends?'
+
+Cadurcis looked down, but rather dogged than ashamed.
+
+'You have brought an innocent man into great peril,' continued the
+Doctor. 'This person, no longer a prisoner, has been arrested on
+suspicion of robbery, and even murder, through your freak. Morgana, or
+whatever your name may be, here is some reward for your treatment of
+this child, and some compensation for your detention. Mount your pony,
+Lord Cadurcis, and return to your home with me.'
+
+'This is my home, sir,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, this childish nonsense must cease; it has already
+endangered the life of your mother, nor can I answer for her safety,
+if you lose a moment in returning.'
+
+'Child, you must return,' said Morgana.
+
+'Child!' said Plantagenet, and he walked some steps away, and leant
+against a tree. 'You promised that I should remain,' said he,
+addressing himself reproachfully to Morgana.
+
+'You are not your own master,' said the gipsy; 'your remaining here
+will only endanger and disturb us. Fortunately we have nothing to fear
+from laws we have never outraged; but had there been a judge less wise
+and gentle than the master here, our peaceful family might have been
+all harassed and hunted to the very death.'
+
+He waved his hand, and addressed some words to his tribe, whereupon
+two brawny fellows seized Cadurcis, and placed him again, in spite of
+his struggling, upon his pony, with the same irresistible facility
+with which they had a few nights before dismounted him. The little
+lord looked very sulky, but his position was beginning to get
+ludicrous. Morgana, pocketing his five guineas, leaped over the side
+of the cart, and offered to guide the Doctor and his attendants
+through the forest. They moved on accordingly. It was the work of an
+instant, and Cadurcis suddenly found himself returning home between
+the Rector and Peter. Not a word, however, escaped his lips; once only
+he moved; the light branch of a tree, aimed with delicate precision,
+touched his back; he looked round; it was Beruna. She kissed her hand
+to him, and a tear stole down his pale, sullen cheek, as, taking from
+his breast his handkerchief, he threw it behind him, unperceived, that
+she might pick it up, and keep it for his sake.
+
+After proceeding two or three miles under the guidance of Morgana, the
+equestrians gained the road, though it still ran through the forest.
+Here the Doctor dismissed the gipsy-man, with whom he had occasionally
+conversed during their progress; but not a sound ever escaped from the
+mouth of Cadurcis, or rather, the captive, who was now substituted in
+Morgana's stead. The Doctor, now addressing himself to Plantagenet,
+informed him that it was of importance that they should make the best
+of their way, and so he put spurs to his mare, and Cadurcis sullenly
+complied with the intimation. At this rate, in the course of little
+more than another hour, they arrived in sight of the demesne of
+Cadurcis, where they pulled up their steeds.
+
+They entered the park, they approached the portal of the abbey; at
+length they dismounted. Their coming was announced by a servant, who
+had recognised his lord at a distance, and had ran on before with the
+tidings. When they entered the abbey, they were met by Lady Annabel in
+the cloisters; her countenance was very serious. She shook hands with
+Dr. Masham, but did not speak, and immediately led him aside. Cadurcis
+remained standing in the very spot where Doctor Masham left him, as if
+he were quite a stranger in the place, and was no longer master of
+his own conduct. Suddenly Doctor Masham, who was at the end of the
+cloister, while Lady Annabel was mounting the staircase, looked round
+with a pale face, and said in an agitated voice, 'Lord Cadurcis, Lady
+Annabel wishes to speak to you in the saloon.'
+
+Cadurcis immediately, but slowly, repaired to the saloon. Lady Annabel
+was walking up and down in it. She seemed greatly disturbed. When she
+saw him, she put her arm round his neck affectionately, and said in
+a low voice, 'My dearest Plantagenet, it has devolved upon me to
+communicate to you some distressing intelligence.' Her voice faltered,
+and the tears stole down her cheek.
+
+'My mother, then, is dangerously ill?' he inquired in a calm but
+softened tone.
+
+'It is even sadder news than that, dear child.'
+
+Cadurcis looked about him wildly, and then with an inquiring glance at
+Lady Annabel:
+
+'There can be but one thing worse than that,' he at length said.
+
+'What if it have happened?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+He threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his hands.
+After a few minutes he looked up and said, in a low but distinct
+voice, 'It is too terrible to think of; it is too terrible to mention;
+but, if it have happened, let me be alone.'
+
+Lady Annabel approached him with a light step; she embraced him, and,
+whispering that she should be found in the next room, she quitted the
+apartment.
+
+Cadurcis remained seated for more than half an hour without changing
+in the slightest degree his position. The twilight died away; it grew
+quite dark; he looked up with a slight shiver, and then quitted the
+apartment.
+
+In the adjoining room, Lady Annabel was seated with Doctor Masham,
+and giving him the details of the fatal event. It had occurred that
+morning. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had never slept a wink since her knowledge
+of her son's undoubted departure, and scarcely for an hour been free
+from violent epileptic fits, had fallen early in the morning into a
+doze, which lasted about half an hour, and from which her medical
+attendant, who with Pauncefort had sat up with her during the night,
+augured the most favourable consequences. About half-past six o'clock
+she woke, and inquired whether Plantagenet had returned. They answered
+her that Doctor Masham had not yet arrived, but would probably be at
+the abbey in the course of the morning. She said it would be too late.
+They endeavoured to encourage her, but she asked to see Lady Annabel,
+who was immediately called, and lost no time in repairing to her. When
+Mrs. Cadurcis recognised her, she held out her hand, and said in a
+dying tone, 'It was my fault; it was ever my fault; it is too late
+now; let him find a mother in you.' She never spoke again, and in the
+course of an hour expired.
+
+While Lady Annabel and the Doctor were dwelling on these sad
+circumstances, and debating whether he should venture to approach
+Plantagenet, and attempt to console him, for the evening was now
+far advanced, and nearly three hours had elapsed since the fatal
+communication had been made to him, it happened that Mistress
+Pauncefort chanced to pass Mrs. Cadurcis' room, and as she did so she
+heard some one violently sobbing. She listened, and hearing the sounds
+frequently repeated, she entered the room, which, but for her candle,
+would have been quite dark, and there she found Lord Cadurcis kneeling
+and weeping by his mother's bedside. He seemed annoyed at being seen
+and disturbed, but his spirit was too broken to murmur. 'La! my lord,'
+said Mistress Pauncefort, 'you must not take on so; you must not
+indeed. I am sure this dark room is enough to put any one in low
+spirits. Now do go downstairs, and sit with my lady and the Doctor,
+and try to be cheerful; that is a dear good young gentleman. I wish
+Miss Venetia were here, and then she would amuse you. But you must not
+take on, because there is no use in it. You must exert yourself, for
+what is done cannot be undone; and, as the Doctor told us last Sunday,
+we must all die; and well for those who die with a good conscience;
+and I am sure the poor dear lady that is gone must have had a good
+conscience, because she had a good heart, and I never heard any one
+say the contrary. Now do exert yourself, my dear lord, and try to be
+cheerful, do; for there is nothing like a little exertion in these
+cases, for God's will must be done, and it is not for us to say yea or
+nay, and taking on is a murmuring against God's providence.' And so
+Mistress Pauncefort would have continued urging the usual topics of
+coarse and common-place consolation; but Cadurcis only answered with a
+sigh that came from the bottom of his heart, and said with streaming
+eyes, 'Ah! Mrs. Pauncefort, God had only given me one friend in this
+world, and there she lies.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+The first conviction that there is death in the house is perhaps the
+most awful moment of youth. When we are young, we think that not only
+ourselves, but that all about us, are immortal. Until the arrow has
+struck a victim round our own hearth, death is merely an unmeaning
+word; until then, its casual mention has stamped no idea upon our
+brain. There are few, even among those least susceptible of thought
+and emotion, in whose hearts and minds the first death in the family
+does not act as a powerful revelation of the mysteries of life, and of
+their own being; there are few who, after such a catastrophe, do not
+look upon the world and the world's ways, at least for a time, with
+changed and tempered feelings. It recalls the past; it makes us ponder
+over the future; and youth, gay and light-hearted youth, is taught,
+for the first time, to regret and to fear.
+
+On Cadurcis, a child of pensive temperament, and in whose strange
+and yet undeveloped character there was, amid lighter elements, a
+constitutional principle of melancholy, the sudden decease of his
+mother produced a profound effect. All was forgotten of his parent,
+except the intimate and natural tie, and her warm and genuine
+affection. He was now alone in the world; for reflection impressed
+upon him at this moment what the course of existence too generally
+teaches to us all, that mournful truth, that, after all, we have no
+friends that we can depend upon in this life but our parents. All
+other intimacies, however ardent, are liable to cool; all other
+confidence, however unlimited, to be violated. In the phantasmagoria
+of life, the friend with whom we have cultivated mutual trust for
+years is often suddenly or gradually estranged from us, or becomes,
+from, painful, yet irresistible circumstances, even our deadliest foe.
+As for women, as for the mistresses of our hearts, who has not learnt
+that the links of passion are fragile as they are glittering; and
+that the bosom on which we have reposed with idolatry all our secret
+sorrows and sanguine hopes, eventually becomes the very heart that
+exults in our misery and baffles our welfare? Where is the enamoured
+face that smiled upon our early love, and was to shed tears over our
+grave? Where are the choice companions of our youth, with whom we were
+to breast the difficulties and share the triumphs of existence? Even
+in this inconstant world, what changes like the heart? Love is a
+dream, and friendship a delusion. No wonder we grow callous; for how
+few have the opportunity of returning to the hearth which they quitted
+in levity or thoughtless weariness, yet which alone is faithful to
+them; whose sweet affections require not the stimulus of prosperity
+or fame, the lure of accomplishments, or the tribute of flattery; but
+which are constant to us in distress, and console us even in disgrace!
+
+Before she retired for the night, Lady Annabel was anxious to see
+Plantagenet. Mistress Pauncefort had informed her of his visit to
+his mother's room. Lady Annabel found Cadurcis in the gallery, now
+partially lighted by the moon which had recently risen. She entered
+with her light, as if she were on her way to her own room, and not
+seeking him.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'will you not go to bed?'
+
+'I do not intend to go to bed to-night,' he replied.
+
+She approached him and took him by the hand, which he did not withdraw
+from her, and they walked together once or twice up and down the
+gallery.
+
+'I think, dear child,' said Lady Annabel, 'you had better come and sit
+with us.'
+
+'I like to be alone,' was his answer; but not in a sullen voice, low
+and faltering.
+
+'But in sorrow we should be with our friends,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have no friends,' he answered. 'I only had one.'
+
+'I am your friend, dear child; I am your mother now, and you shall
+find me one if you like. And Venetia, have you forgotten your sister?
+Is she not your friend? And Dr. Masham, surely you cannot doubt his
+friendship?'
+
+Cadurcis tried to stifle a sob. 'Ay, Lady Annabel,' he said, 'you are
+my friend now, and so are you all; and you know I love you much. But
+you were not my friends two years ago; and things will change again;
+they will, indeed. A mother is your friend as long as she lives; she
+cannot help being your friend.'
+
+'You shall come to Cherbury and live with us,' said Lady Annabel.' You
+know you love Cherbury, and you shall find it a home, a real home.'
+
+He pressed her hand to his lips; the hand was covered with his tears.
+
+'We will go to Cherbury to-morrow, dear Plantagenet; remaining here
+will only make you sad.'
+
+'I will never leave Cadurcis again while my mother is in this house,'
+he said, in a firm and serious voice. And then, after a moment's
+pause, he added, 'I wish to know when the burial is to take place.'
+
+'We will ask Dr. Masham,' replied Lady Annabel. 'Come, let us go to
+him; come, my own child.'
+
+He permitted himself to be led away. They descended to the small
+apartment where Lady Annabel had been previously sitting. They found
+the Doctor there; he rose and pressed Plantagenet's hand with great
+emotion. They made room for him at the fire between them; he sat in
+silence, with his gaze intently fixed upon the decaying embers,
+yet did not quit his hold of Lady Annabel's hand. He found it a
+consolation to him; it linked him to a being who seemed to love him.
+As long as he held her hand he did not seem quite alone in the world.
+
+Now nobody spoke; for Lady Annabel felt that Cadurcis was in some
+degree solaced; and she thought it unwise to interrupt the more
+composed train of his thoughts. It was, indeed, Plantagenet himself
+who first broke silence.
+
+'I do not think I can go to bed, Lady Annabel,' he said. 'The thought
+of this night is terrible to me. I do not think it ever can end. I
+would much sooner sit up in this room.'
+
+'Nay! my child, sleep is a great consoler; try to go to bed, love.'
+
+'I should like to sleep in my mother's room,' was his strange reply.
+'It seems to me that I could sleep there. And if I woke in the night,
+I should like to see her.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor exchanged looks.
+
+'I think,' said the Doctor, 'you had better sleep in my room, and
+then, if you wake in the night, you will have some one to speak to.
+You will find that a comfort.'
+
+'Yes, that you will,' said Lady Annabel. 'I will go and have the sofa
+bed made up in the Doctor's room for you. Indeed that will be the very
+best plan.'
+
+So at last, but not without a struggle, they persuaded Cadurcis to
+retire. Lady Annabel embraced him tenderly when she bade him good
+night; and, indeed, he felt consoled by her affection.
+
+As nothing could persuade Plantagenet to leave the abbey until his
+mother was buried, Lady Annabel resolved to take up her abode there,
+and she sent the next morning for Venetia. There were a great many
+arrangements to make about the burial and the mourning; and Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham were obliged, in consequence, to go the next
+morning to Southport; but they delayed their departure until the
+arrival of Venetia, that Cadurcis might not be left alone.
+
+The meeting between himself and Venetia was a very sad one, and yet
+her companionship was a great solace. Venetia urged every topic that
+she fancied could reassure his spirits, and upon the happy home he
+would find at Cherbury.
+
+'Ah!' said Cadurcis, 'they will not leave me here; I am sure of that.
+I think our happy days are over, Venetia.'
+
+What mourner has not felt the magic of time? Before the funeral could
+take place, Cadurcis had recovered somewhat of his usual cheerfulness,
+and would indulge with Venetia in plans of their future life. And
+living, as they all were, under the same roof, sharing the same
+sorrows, participating in the same cares, and all about to wear the
+same mournful emblems of their domestic calamity, it was difficult for
+him to believe that he was indeed that desolate being he had at first
+correctly estimated himself. Here were true friends, if such could
+exist; here were fine sympathies, pure affections, innocent and
+disinterested hearts! Every domestic tie yet remained perfect, except
+the spell-bound tie of blood. That wanting, all was a bright and happy
+vision, that might vanish in an instant, and for ever; that perfect,
+even the least graceful, the most repulsive home, had its irresistible
+charms; and its loss, when once experienced, might be mourned for
+ever, and could never be restored.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+After the funeral of Mrs. Cadurcis, the family returned to Cherbury
+with Plantagenet, who was hereafter to consider it his home. All that
+the most tender solicitude could devise to reconcile him to the change
+in his life was fulfilled by Lady Annabel and her daughter, and, under
+their benignant influence, he soon regained his usual demeanour. His
+days were now spent as in the earlier period of their acquaintance,
+with the exception of those painful returns to home, which had once
+been a source to him of so much gloom and unhappiness. He pursued his
+studies as of old, and shared the amusements of Venetia. His allotted
+room was ornamented by her drawings, and in the evenings they read
+aloud by turns to Lady Annabel the volume which she selected. The
+abbey he never visited again after his mother's funeral.
+
+Some weeks had passed in this quiet and contented manner, when one
+day Doctor Masham, who, since the death of his mother, had been
+in correspondence with his guardian, received a letter from that
+nobleman, to announce that he had made arrangements for sending his
+ward to Eton, and to request that he would accordingly instantly
+proceed to the metropolis. This announcement occasioned both Cadurcis
+and Venetia poignant affliction. The idea of separation was to both
+of them most painful; and although Lady Annabel herself was in
+some degree prepared for an arrangement, which sooner or later she
+considered inevitable, she was herself scarcely less distressed.
+The good Doctor, in some degree to break the bitterness of parting,
+proposed accompanying Plantagenet to London, and himself personally
+delivering the charge, in whose welfare they were so much interested,
+to his guardian. Nevertheless, it was a very sad affair, and the week
+which was to intervene before his departure found both himself and
+Venetia often in tears. They no longer took any delight in their
+mutual studies but passed the day walking about and visiting old
+haunts, and endeavouring to console each other for what they both
+deemed a great calamity, and which was indeed, the only serious
+misfortune Venetia had herself experienced in the whole course of her
+serene career.
+
+'But if I were really your brother,' said Plantagenet, 'I must have
+quitted you the same, Venetia. Boys always go to school; and then we
+shall be so happy when I return.'
+
+'Oh! but we are so happy now, Plantagenet. I cannot believe that we
+are going to part. And are you sure that you will return? Perhaps your
+guardian will not let you, and will wish you to spend your holidays at
+his house. His house will be your home now.'
+
+It was impossible for a moment to forget the sorrow that was impending
+over them. There were so many preparations to be made for his
+departure, that every instant something occurred to remind them of
+their sorrow. Venetia sat with tears in her eyes marking his new
+pocket-handkerchiefs which they had all gone to Southport to purchase,
+for Plantagenet asked, as a particular favour, that no one should mark
+them but Venetia. Then Lady Annabel gave Plantagenet a writing-case,
+and Venetia filled it with pens and paper, that he might never want
+means to communicate with them; and her evenings were passed in
+working him a purse, which Lady Annabel took care should be well
+stocked. All day long there seemed something going on to remind them
+of what was about to happen; and as for Pauncefort, she flounced in
+and out the room fifty times a day, with 'What is to be done about my
+lord's shirts, my lady? I think his lordship had better have another
+dozen, your la'ship. Better too much than too little, I always say;'
+or, 'O! my lady, your la'ship cannot form an idea of what a state my
+lord's stockings are in, my lady. I think I had better go over to
+Southport with John, my lady, and buy him some;' or, 'Please, my lady,
+did I understand your la'ship spoke to the tailor on Thursday about
+my lord's things? I suppose your la'ship knows my lord has got no
+great-coat?'
+
+Every one of these inquiries made Venetia's heart tremble. Then there
+was the sad habit of dating every coming day by its distance from
+the fatal one. There was the last day but four, and the last day
+but three, and the last day but two. The last day but one at length
+arrived; and at length, too, though it seemed incredible, the last day
+itself.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia both rose very early, that they might make it
+as long as possible. They sighed involuntarily when they met, and then
+they went about to pay last visits to every creature and object of
+which they had been so long fond. Plantagenet went to bid farewell
+to the horses and adieu to the cows, and then walked down to the
+woodman's cottage, and then to shake hands with the keeper. He would
+not say 'Good-bye' to the household until the very last moment; and as
+for Marmion, the bloodhound, he accompanied both of them so faithfully
+in this melancholy ramble, and kept so close to both, that it was
+useless to break the sad intelligence to him yet.
+
+'I think now, Venetia, we have been to see everything,' said
+Plantagenet, 'I shall see the peacocks at breakfast time. I wish Eton
+was near Cherbury, and then I could come home on Sunday. I cannot bear
+going to Cadurcis again, but I should like you to go once a week, and
+try to keep up our garden, and look after everything, though there is
+not much that will not take care of itself, except the garden. We made
+that together, and I could not bear its being neglected.'
+
+Venetia could not assure him that no wish of his should be neglected,
+because she was weeping.
+
+'I am glad the Doctor,' he continued, 'is going to take me to town.
+I should be very wretched by myself. But he will put me in mind of
+Cherbury, and we can talk together of Lady Annabel and you. Hark! the
+bell rings; we must go to breakfast, the last breakfast but one.'
+
+Lady Annabel endeavoured, by unusual good spirits, to cheer up her
+little friends. She spoke of Plantagenet's speedy return so much as a
+matter of course, and the pleasant things they were to do when he came
+back, that she really succeeded in exciting a smile in Venetia's April
+face, for she was smiling amid tears.
+
+Although it was the last day, time hung heavily on their hands. After
+breakfast they went over the house together; and Cadurcis, half with
+genuine feeling, and half in a spirit of mockery of their sorrow, made
+a speech to the inanimate walls, as if they were aware of his intended
+departure. At length, in their progress, they passed the door of the
+closed apartments, and here, holding Venetia's hand, he stopped, and,
+with an expression of irresistible humour, making a low bow to them,
+he said, very gravely, 'And good-bye rooms that I have never entered;
+perhaps, before I come back, Venetia will find out what is locked up
+in you!'
+
+Dr. Masham arrived for dinner, and in a postchaise. The unusual
+conveyance reminded them of the morrow very keenly. Venetia could not
+bear to see the Doctor's portmanteau taken out and carried into the
+hall. She had hopes, until then, that something would happen and
+prevent all this misery. Cadurcis whispered her, 'I say, Venetia, do
+not you wish this was winter?'
+
+'Why, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Because then we might have a good snowstorm, and be blocked up again
+for a week.'
+
+Venetia looked at the sky, but not a cloud was to be seen.
+
+The Doctor was glad to warm himself at the hall-fire, for it was a
+fresh autumnal afternoon.
+
+'Are you cold, sir?' said Venetia, approaching him.
+
+'I am, my little maiden,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Do you think there is any chance of its snowing, Doctor Masham?'
+
+'Snowing! my little maiden; what can you be thinking of?'
+
+The dinner was rather gayer than might have been expected. The Doctor
+was jocular, Lady Annabel lively, and Plantagenet excited by an
+extraordinary glass of wine. Venetia alone remained dispirited. The
+Doctor made mock speeches and proposed toasts, and told Plantagenet
+that he must learn to make speeches too, or what would he do when
+he was in the House of Lords? And then Plantagenet tried to make a
+speech, and proposed Venetia's health; and then Venetia, who could not
+bear to hear herself praised by him on such a day, the last day, burst
+into tears. Her mother called her to her side and consoled her, and
+Plantagenet jumped up and wiped her eyes with one of those very
+pocket-handkerchiefs on which she had embroidered his cipher and
+coronet with her own beautiful hair. Towards evening Plantagenet began
+to experience the reaction of his artificial spirits. The Doctor had
+fallen into a gentle slumber, Lady Annabel had quitted the room,
+Venetia sat with her hand in Plantagenet's on a stool by the fireside.
+Both were sad and silent. At last Venetia said, 'O Plantagenet, I
+wish I were your real sister! Perhaps, when I see you again, you will
+forget this,' and she turned the jewel that was suspended round her
+neck, and showed him the inscription.
+
+'I am sure when I see you-again, Venetia,' he replied, 'the only
+difference will be, that I shall love you more than ever.'
+
+'I hope so,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am sure of it. Now remember what we are talking about. When we meet
+again, we shall see which of us two will love each other the most.'
+
+'O Plantagenet, I hope they will be kind to you at Eton.'
+
+'I will make them.'
+
+'And, whenever you are the least unhappy, you will write to us?'
+
+'I shall never be unhappy about anything but being away from you. As
+for the rest, I will make people respect me; I know what I am.'
+
+'Because if they do not behave well to you, mamma could ask Dr. Masham
+to go and see you, and they will attend to him; and I would ask him
+too. I wonder,' she continued after a moment's pause, 'if you have
+everything you want. I am quite sure the instant you are gone, we
+shall remember something you ought to have; and then I shall be quite
+brokenhearted.'
+
+'I have got everything.'
+
+'You said you wanted a large knife.'
+
+'Yes! but I am going to buy one in London. Dr. Masham says he will
+take me to a place where the finest knives in the world are to be
+bought. It is a great thing to go to London with Dr. Masham.'
+
+'I have never written your name in your Bible and Prayer-book. I will
+do it this evening.'
+
+'Lady Annabel is to write it in the Bible, and you are to write it in
+the Prayer-book.'
+
+'You are to write to us from London by Dr. Masham, if only a line.'
+
+'I shall not fail.'
+
+'Never mind about your handwriting; but mind you write.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel's step was heard, and Plantagenet said,
+'Give me a kiss, Venetia, for I do not mean to bid good-bye to-night.'
+
+'But you will not go to-morrow before we are up?'
+
+'Yes, we shall.'
+
+'Now, Plantagenet, I shall be up to bid you good-bye, mind that'
+
+Lady Annabel entered, the Doctor woke, lights followed, the servant
+made up the fire, and the room looked cheerful again. After tea,
+the names were duly written in the Bible and Prayer-book; the last
+arrangements were made, all the baggage was brought down into the
+hall, all ransacked their memory and fancy, to see if it were possible
+that anything that Plantagenet could require was either forgotten
+or had been omitted. The clock struck ten; Lady Annabel rose. The
+travellers were to part at an early hour: she shook hands with Dr.
+Masham, but Cadurcis was to bid her farewell in her dressing-room, and
+then, with heavy hearts and glistening eyes, they all separated. And
+thus ended the last day!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+Venetia passed a restless night. She was so resolved to be awake in
+time for Plantagenet's departure, that she could not sleep; and at
+length, towards morning, fell, from exhaustion, into a light slumber,
+from which she sprang up convulsively, roused by the sound of the
+wheels of the postchaise. She looked out of her window, and saw the
+servant strapping on the portmanteaus. Shortly after this she heard
+Plantagenet's step in the vestibule; he passed her room, and proceeded
+to her mother's dressing-room, at the door of which she heard him
+knock, and then there was silence.
+
+'You are in good time,' said Lady Annabel, who was seated in an easy
+chair when Plantagenet entered her room. 'Is the Doctor up?'
+
+'He is breakfasting.'
+
+'And have you breakfasted?'
+
+'I have no appetite.'
+
+'You should take something, my child, before you go. Now, come hither,
+my dear Plantagenet,' she said, extending her hand; 'listen to me, one
+word. When you arrive in London, you will go to your guardian's. He
+is a great man, and I believe a very good one, and the law and your
+father's will have placed him in the position of a parent to you. You
+must therefore love, honour, and obey him; and I doubt not he will
+deserve all your affection, respect, and duty. Whatever he desires or
+counsels you will perform, and follow. So long as you act according to
+his wishes, you cannot be wrong. But, my dear Plantagenet, if by any
+chance it ever happens, for strange things sometimes happen in this
+world, that you are in trouble and require a friend, remember that
+Cherbury is also your home; the home of your heart, if not of the law;
+and that not merely from my own love for you, but because I promised
+your poor mother on her death-bed, I esteem myself morally, although
+not legally, in the light of a parent to you. You will find Eton a
+great change; you will experience many trials and temptations; but you
+will triumph over and withstand them all, if you will attend to these
+few directions. Fear God; morning and night let nothing induce you
+ever to omit your prayers to Him; you will find that praying will
+make you happy. Obey your superiors; always treat your masters with
+respect. Ever speak the truth. So long as you adhere to this rule,
+you never can be involved in any serious misfortune. A deviation from
+truth is, in general, the foundation of all misery. Be kind to your
+companions, but be firm. Do not be laughed into doing that which you
+know to be wrong. Be modest and humble, but ever respect yourself.
+Remember who you are, and also that it is your duty to excel.
+Providence has given you a great lot. Think ever that you are born to
+perform great duties.
+
+'God bless you, Plantagenet!' she continued, after a slight pause,
+with a faltering voice, 'God bless you, my sweet child. And God will
+bless you if you remember Him. Try also to remember us,' she added, as
+she embraced him, and placed in his hand Venetia's well-lined purse.
+'Do not forget Cherbury and all it contains; hearts that love you
+dearly, and will pray ever for your welfare.'
+
+Plantagenet leant upon her bosom. He had entered the room resolved to
+be composed, with an air even of cheerfulness, but his tender heart
+yielded to the first appeal to his affections. He could only murmur
+out some broken syllables of devotion, and almost unconsciously found
+that he had quitted the chamber.
+
+With streaming eyes and hesitating steps he was proceeding along the
+vestibule, when he heard his name called by a low sweet voice. He
+looked around; it was Venetia. Never had he beheld such a beautiful
+vision. She was muffled up in her dressing-gown, her small white feet
+only guarded from the cold by her slippers. Her golden hair seemed to
+reach her waist, her cheek was flushed, her large blue eyes glittered
+with tears.
+
+'Plantagenet,' she said--
+
+Neither of them could speak. They embraced, they mingled their tears
+together, and every instant they wept more plenteously. At length a
+footstep was heard; Venetia murmured a blessing, and vanished.
+
+Cadurcis lingered on the stairs a moment to compose himself. He wiped
+his eyes; he tried to look undisturbed. All the servants were in the
+hall; from Mistress Pauncefort to the scullion there was not a dry
+eye. All loved the little lord, he was so gracious and so gentle.
+Every one asked leave to touch his hand before he went. He tried to
+smile and say something kind to all. He recognised the gamekeeper,
+and told him to do what he liked at Cadurcis; said something to the
+coachman about his pony; and begged Mistress Pauncefort, quite aloud,
+to take great care of her young mistress. As he was speaking, he
+felt something rubbing against his hand: it was Marmion, the old
+bloodhound. He also came to bid his adieus. Cadurcis patted him with
+affection, and said, 'Ah! my old fellow, we shall yet meet again.'
+
+The Doctor appeared, smiling as usual, made his inquiries whether all
+were right, nodded to the weeping household, called Plantagenet his
+brave boy, and patted him on the back, and bade him jump into the
+chaise. Another moment, and Dr. Masham had also entered; the door was
+closed, the fatal 'All right' sung out, and Lord Cadurcis was whirled
+away from that Cherbury where he was so loved.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Life is not dated merely by years. Events are sometimes the best
+calendars. There are epochs in our existence which cannot be
+ascertained by a formal appeal to the registry. The arrival of the
+Cadurcis family at their old abbey, their consequent intimacy at
+Cherbury, the death of the mother, and the departure of the son: these
+were events which had been crowded into a space of less than two
+years; but those two years were not only the most eventful in the life
+of Venetia Herbert, but in their influence upon the development of her
+mind, and the formation of her character, far exceeded the effects of
+all her previous existence.
+
+Venetia once more found herself with no companion but her mother,
+but in vain she attempted to recall the feelings she had before
+experienced under such circumstances, and to revert to the resources
+she had before commanded. No longer could she wander in imaginary
+kingdoms, or transform the limited world of her experience into a
+boundless region of enchanted amusement. Her play-pleasure hours were
+fled for ever. She sighed for her faithful and sympathising companion.
+The empire of fancy yielded without a struggle to the conquering sway
+of memory.
+
+For the first few weeks Venetia was restless and dispirited, and when
+she was alone she often wept. A mysterious instinct prompted her,
+however, not to exhibit such emotion before her mother. Yet she loved
+to hear Lady Annabel talk of Plantagenet, and a visit to the abbey was
+ever her favourite walk. Sometimes, too, a letter arrived from Lord
+Cadurcis, and this was great joy; but such communications were rare.
+Nothing is more difficult than for a junior boy at a public school to
+maintain a correspondence; yet his letters were most affectionate,
+and always dwelt upon the prospect of his return. The period for this
+hoped-for return at length arrived, but it brought no Plantagenet.
+His guardian wished that the holidays should be spent under his roof.
+Still at intervals Cadurcis wrote to Cherbury, to which, as time flew
+on, it seemed destined he never was to return. Vacation followed
+vacation, alike passed with his guardian, either in London, or at
+a country seat still more remote from Cherbury, until at length it
+became so much a matter of course that his guardian's house should
+be esteemed his home, that Plantagenet ceased to allude even to the
+prospect of return. In time his letters became rarer and rarer, until,
+at length, they altogether ceased. Meanwhile Venetia had overcome the
+original pang of separation; if not as gay as in old days, she was
+serene and very studious; delighting less in her flowers and birds,
+but much more in her books, and pursuing her studies with an
+earnestness and assiduity which her mother was rather fain to check
+than to encourage. Venetia Herbert, indeed, promised to become a most
+accomplished woman. She had a fine ear for music, a ready tongue for
+languages; already she emulated her mother's skill in the arts; while
+the library of Cherbury afforded welcome and inexhaustible resources
+to a girl whose genius deserved the richest and most sedulous
+cultivation, and whose peculiar situation, independent of her studious
+predisposition, rendered reading a pastime to her rather than a
+task. Lady Annabel watched the progress of her daughter with lively
+interest, and spared no efforts to assist the formation of her
+principles and her taste. That deep religious feeling which was the
+characteristic of the mother had been carefully and early cherished
+in the heart of the child, and in time the unrivalled writings of the
+great divines of our Church became a principal portion of her reading.
+Order, method, severe study, strict religious exercise, with no
+amusement or relaxation but of the most simple and natural character,
+and with a complete seclusion from society, altogether formed a
+system, which, acting upon a singularly susceptible and gifted nature,
+secured the promise in Venetia Herbert, at fourteen years of age, of
+an extraordinary woman; a system, however, against which her lively
+and somewhat restless mind might probably have rebelled, had not
+that system been so thoroughly imbued with all the melting spell of
+maternal affection. It was the inspiration of this sacred love that
+hovered like a guardian angel over the life of Venetia. It roused her
+from her morning slumbers with an embrace, it sanctified her evening
+pillow with a blessing; it anticipated the difficulty of the student's
+page, and guided the faltering hand of the hesitating artist; it
+refreshed her memory, it modulated her voice; it accompanied her in
+the cottage, and knelt by her at the altar. Marvellous and beautiful
+is a mother's love. And when Venetia, with her strong feelings and
+enthusiastic spirit, would look around and mark that a graceful form
+and a bright eye were for ever watching over her wants and wishes,
+instructing with sweetness, and soft even with advice, her whole soul
+rose to her mother, all thoughts and feelings were concentrated in
+that sole existence, and she desired no happier destiny than to pass
+through life living in the light of her mother's smiles, and clinging
+with passionate trust to that beneficent and guardian form.
+
+But with all her quick and profound feelings Venetia was thoughtful
+and even shrewd, and when she was alone her very love for her
+mother, and her gratitude for such an ineffable treasure as parental
+affection, would force her mind to a subject which at intervals had
+haunted her even from her earliest childhood. Why had she only one
+parent? What mystery was this that enveloped that great tie? For
+that there was a mystery Venetia felt as assured as that she was a
+daughter. By a process which she could not analyse, her father had
+become a forbidden subject. True, Lady Annabel had placed no formal
+prohibition upon its mention; nor at her present age was Venetia one
+who would be influenced in her conduct by the bygone and arbitrary
+intimations of a menial; nevertheless, that the mention of her father
+would afford pain to the being she loved best in the world, was a
+conviction which had grown with her years and strengthened with her
+strength. Pardonable, natural, even laudable as was the anxiety of the
+daughter upon such a subject, an instinct with which she could not
+struggle closed the lips of Venetia for ever upon this topic. His name
+was never mentioned, his past existence was never alluded to. Who was
+he? That he was of noble family and great position her name betokened,
+and the state in which they lived. He must have died very early;
+perhaps even before her mother gave her birth. A dreadful lot indeed;
+and yet was the grief that even such a dispensation might occasion, so
+keen, so overwhelming, that after fourteen long years his name might
+not be permitted, even for an instant, to pass the lips of his
+bereaved wife? Was his child to be deprived of the only solace for
+his loss, the consolation of cherishing his memory? Strange, passing
+strange indeed, and bitter! At Cherbury the family of Herbert were
+honoured only from tradition. Until the arrival of Lady Annabel, as we
+have before mentioned, they had not resided at the hall for more than
+half a century. There were no old retainers there from whom Venetia
+might glean, without suspicion, the information for which she panted.
+Slight, too, as was Venetia's experience of society, there were times
+when she could not resist the impression that her mother was not
+happy; that there was some secret sorrow that weighed upon her
+spirit, some grief that gnawed at her heart. Could it be still the
+recollection of her lost sire? Could one so religious, so resigned,
+so assured of meeting the lost one in a better world, brood with a
+repining soul over the will of her Creator? Such conduct was entirely
+at variance with all the tenets of Lady Annabel. It was not thus she
+consoled the bereaved, that she comforted the widow, and solaced the
+orphan. Venetia, too, observed everything and forgot nothing. Not an
+incident of her earliest childhood that was not as fresh in her memory
+as if it had occurred yesterday. Her memory was naturally keen; living
+in solitude, with nothing to distract it, its impressions never faded
+away. She had never forgotten her mother's tears the day that she and
+Plantagenet had visited Marringhurst. Somehow or other Dr. Masham
+seemed connected with this sorrow. Whenever Lady Annabel was most
+dispirited it was after an interview with that gentleman; yet the
+presence of the Doctor always gave her pleasure, and he was the most
+kind-hearted and cheerful of men. Perhaps, after all, it was only her
+illusion; perhaps, after all, it was the memory of her father to which
+her mother was devoted, and which occasionally overcame her; perhaps
+she ventured to speak of him to Dr. Masham, though not to her
+daughter, and this might account for that occasional agitation which
+Venetia had observed at his visits. And yet, and yet, and yet; in vain
+she reasoned. There is a strange sympathy which whispers convictions
+that no evidence can authorise, and no arguments dispel. Venetia
+Herbert, particularly as she grew older, could not refrain at times
+from yielding to the irresistible belief that her existence was
+enveloped in some mystery. Mystery too often presupposes the idea of
+guilt. Guilt! Who was guilty? Venetia shuddered at the current of her
+own thoughts. She started from the garden seat in which she had fallen
+into this dangerous and painful reverie; flew to her mother, who
+received her with smiles; and buried her face in the bosom of Lady
+Annabel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+We have indicated in a few pages the progress of three years. How
+differently passed to the two preceding ones, when the Cadurcis family
+were settled at the abbey! For during this latter period it seemed
+that not a single incident had occurred. They had glided away in one
+unbroken course of study, religion, and domestic love, the enjoyment
+of nature, and the pursuits of charity; like a long summer
+sabbath-day, sweet and serene and still, undisturbed by a single
+passion, hallowed and hallowing.
+
+If the Cadurcis family were now not absolutely forgotten at Cherbury,
+they were at least only occasionally remembered. These last three
+years so completely harmonised with the life of Venetia before their
+arrival, that, taking a general view of her existence, their residence
+at the abbey figured only as an episode in her career; active indeed
+and stirring, and one that had left some impressions not easily
+discarded; but, on the whole, mellowed by the magic of time, Venetia
+looked back to her youthful friendship as an event that was only an
+exception in her lot, and she viewed herself as a being born and bred
+up in a seclusion which she was never to quit, with no aspirations
+beyond the little world in which she moved, and where she was to die
+in peace, as she had lived in purity.
+
+One Sunday, the conversation after dinner fell upon Lord Cadurcis.
+Doctor Masham had recently met a young Etonian, and had made some
+inquiries about their friend of old days. The information he had
+obtained was not very satisfactory. It seemed that Cadurcis was a more
+popular boy with his companions than his tutors; he had been rather
+unruly, and had only escaped expulsion by the influence of his
+guardian, who was not only a great noble, but a powerful minister.
+
+This conversation recalled old times. They talked over the arrival of
+Mrs. Cadurcis at the abbey, her strange character, her untimely end.
+Lady Annabel expressed her conviction of the natural excellence of
+Plantagenet's disposition, and her regret of the many disadvantages
+under which he laboured; it gratified Venetia to listen to his praise.
+
+'He has quite forgotten us, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+'My love, he was very young when he quitted us,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and you must remember the influence of a change of life at so tender
+an age. He lives now in a busy world.'
+
+'I wish that he had not forgotten to write to us sometimes,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Writing a letter is a great achievement for a schoolboy,' said the
+Doctor; 'it is a duty which even grown-up persons too often forget
+to fulfil, and, when postponed, it is generally deferred for ever.
+However, I agree with Lady Annabel, Cadurcis was a fine fellow, and
+had he been properly brought up, I cannot help thinking, might have
+turned out something.'
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia, 'how I pity him. His was a terrible
+lot, to lose both his parents! Whatever were the errors of Mrs.
+Cadurcis, she was his mother, and, in spite of every mortification, he
+clung to her. Ah! I shall never forget when Pauncefort met him coming
+out of her room the night before the burial, when he said, with
+streaming eyes, "I only had one friend in the world, and now she is
+gone." I could not love Mrs. Cadurcis, and yet, when I heard of these
+words, I cried as much as he.'
+
+'Poor fellow!' said the Doctor, filling his glass.
+
+'If there be any person in the world whom I pity,' said Venetia, ''tis
+an orphan. Oh! what should I be without mamma? And Plantagenet, poor
+Plantagenet! he has no mother, no father.' Venetia added, with a
+faltering voice: 'I can sympathise with him in some degree; I, I, I
+know, I feel the misfortune, the misery;' her face became crimson, yet
+she could not restrain the irresistible words, 'the misery of never
+having known a father,' she added.
+
+There was a dead pause, a most solemn silence. In vain Venetia
+struggled to look calm and unconcerned; every instant she felt
+the blood mantling in her cheek with a more lively and spreading
+agitation. She dared not look up; it was not possible to utter a word
+to turn the conversation. She felt utterly confounded and absolutely
+mute. At length, Lady Annabel spoke. Her tone was severe and choking,
+very different to her usual silvery voice.
+
+'I am sorry that my daughter should feel so keenly the want of a
+parent's love,' said her ladyship.
+
+What would not Venetia have given for the power or speech! but
+it seemed to have deserted her for ever. There she sat mute and
+motionless, with her eyes fixed on the table, and with a burning
+cheek, as if she were conscious of having committed some act of shame,
+as if she had been detected in some base and degrading deed. Yet, what
+had she done? A daughter had delicately alluded to her grief at the
+loss of a parent, and expressed her keen sense of the deprivation.
+
+It was an autumnal afternoon: Doctor Masham looked at the sky, and,
+after a long pause, made an observation about the weather, and then
+requested permission to order his horses, as the evening came on
+apace, and he had some distance to ride. Lady Annabel rose; the
+Doctor, with a countenance unusually serious, offered her his arm; and
+Venetia followed them like a criminal. In a few minutes the horses
+appeared; Lady Annabel bid adieu to her friend in her usual kind tone,
+and with her usual sweet smile; and then, without noticing Venetia,
+instantly retired to her own chamber.
+
+And this was her mother; her mother who never before quitted her for
+an instant without some sign and symbol of affection, some playful
+word of love, a winning smile, a passing embrace, that seemed to
+acknowledge that the pang of even momentary separation could only be
+alleviated by this graceful homage to the heart. What had she done?
+Venetia was about to follow Lady Annabel, but she checked herself.
+Agony at having offended her mother, and, for the first time, was
+blended with a strange curiosity as to the cause, and some hesitating
+indignation at her treatment. Venetia remained anxiously awaiting
+the return of Lady Annabel; but her ladyship did not reappear. Every
+instant, the astonishment and the grief of Venetia increased. It was
+the first domestic difference that had occurred between them. It
+shocked her much. She thought of Plantagenet and Mrs. Cadurcis. There
+was a mortifying resemblance, however slight, between the respective
+situations of the two families. Venetia, too, had quarrelled with her
+mother; that mother who, for fourteen years, had only looked upon her
+with fondness and joy; who had been ever kind, without being ever
+weak, and had rendered her child happy by making her good; that mother
+whose beneficent wisdom had transformed duty into delight; that
+superior, yet gentle being, so indulgent yet so just, so gifted yet so
+condescending, who dedicated all her knowledge, and time, and care,
+and intellect to her daughter.
+
+Venetia threw herself upon a couch and wept. They were the first tears
+of unmixed pain that she had ever shed. It was said by the household
+of Venetia when a child, that she had never cried; not a single tear
+had ever sullied that sunny face. Surrounded by scenes of innocence,
+and images of happiness and content, Venetia smiled on a world that
+smiled on her, the radiant heroine of a golden age. She had, indeed,
+wept over the sorrows and the departure of Cadurcis; but those were
+soft showers of sympathy and affection sent from a warm heart, like
+drops from a summer sky. But now this grief was agony: her brow
+throbbed, her hand was clenched, her heart beat with tumultuous
+palpitation; the streaming torrent came scalding down her cheek like
+fire rather than tears, and instead of assuaging her emotion, seemed,
+on the contrary, to increase its fierce and fervid power.
+
+The sun had set, the red autumnal twilight had died away, the shadows
+of night were brooding over the halls of Cherbury. The moan of the
+rising wind might be distinctly heard, and ever and anon the branches
+of neighbouring trees swung with a sudden yet melancholy sound against
+the windows of the apartment, of which the curtains had remained
+undrawn. Venetia looked up; the room would have been in perfect
+darkness but for a glimmer which just indicated the site of the
+expiring fire, and an uncertain light, or rather modified darkness,
+that seemed the sky. Alone and desolate! Alone and desolate and
+unhappy! Alone and desolate and unhappy, and for the first time! Was
+it a sigh, or a groan, that issued from the stifling heart of Venetia
+Herbert? That child of innocence, that bright emanation of love and
+beauty, that airy creature of grace and gentleness, who had never said
+an unkind word or done an unkind thing in her whole career, but had
+glanced and glided through existence, scattering happiness and
+joy, and receiving the pleasure which she herself imparted, how
+overwhelming was her first struggle with that dark stranger, Sorrow!
+
+Some one entered the room; it was Mistress Pauncefort. She held a
+taper in her hand, and came tripping gingerly in, with a new cap
+streaming with ribands, and scarcely, as it were, condescending to
+execute the mission with which she was intrusted, which was no greater
+than fetching her lady's reticule. She glanced at the table, but it
+was not there; she turned up her nose at a chair or two, which she
+even condescended to propel a little with a saucy foot, as if the
+reticule might be hid under the hanging drapery, and then, unable to
+find the object of her search, Mistress Pauncefort settled herself
+before the glass, elevating the taper above her head, that she might
+observe what indeed she had been examining the whole day, the effect
+of her new cap. With a complacent simper, Mistress Pauncefort then
+turned from pleasure to business, and, approaching the couch, gave
+a faint shriek, half genuine, half affected, as she recognised the
+recumbent form of her young mistress. 'Well to be sure,' exclaimed
+Mistress Pauncefort, 'was the like ever seen! Miss Venetia, as I live!
+La! Miss Venetia, what can be the matter? I declare I am all of a
+palpitation.'
+
+Venetia, affecting composure, said she was rather unwell; that she
+had a headache, and, rising, murmured that she would go to bed. 'A
+headache!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, 'I hope no worse, for there
+is my lady, and she is as out of sorts as possible. She has a headache
+too; and when I shut the door just now, I am sure as quiet as a lamb,
+she told me not to make so much noise when I left the room. "Noise!"
+says I; "why really, my lady, I don't pretend to be a spirit; but if
+it comes to noise--" "Never answer me, Pauncefort," says my lady. "No,
+my lady," says I, "I never do, and, I am sure, when I have a headache
+myself, I don't like to be answered." But, to be sure, if you have a
+headache, and my lady has a headache too, I only hope we have not got
+the epidemy. I vow, Miss Venetia, that your eyes are as red as if you
+had been running against the wind. Well, to be sure, if you have not
+been crying! I must go and tell my lady immediately.'
+
+'Light me to my room,' said Venetia; 'I will not disturb my mother, as
+she is unwell.'
+
+Venetia rose, and Mistress Pauncefort followed her to her chamber, and
+lit her candles. Venetia desired her not to remain; and when she had
+quitted the chamber, Venetia threw herself in her chair and sighed.
+
+To sleep, it was impossible; it seemed to Venetia that she could never
+rest again. She wept no more, but her distress was very great. She
+felt it impossible to exist through the night without being reconciled
+to her mother; but she refrained from going to her room, from the fear
+of again meeting her troublesome attendant. She resolved, therefore,
+to wait until she heard Mistress Pauncefort retire for the night, and
+she listened with restless anxiety for the sign of her departure in
+the sound of her footsteps along the vestibule on which the doors of
+Lady Annabel's and her daughter's apartments opened.
+
+An hour elapsed, and at length the sound was heard. Convinced that
+Pauncefort had now quitted her mother for the night, Venetia ventured
+forth, and stopping before the door of her mother's room, she knocked
+gently. There was no reply, and in a few minutes Venetia knocked
+again, and rather louder. Still no answer. 'Mamma,' said Venetia, in a
+faltering tone, but no sound replied. Venetia then tried the door,
+and found it fastened. Then she gave up the effort in despair, and
+retreating to her own chamber, she threw herself on her bed, and wept
+bitterly.
+
+Some time elapsed before she looked up again; the candles were flaring
+in their sockets. It was a wild windy night; Venetia rose, and
+withdrew the curtain of her window. The black clouds were scudding
+along the sky, revealing, in their occasional but transient rifts,
+some glimpses of the moon, that seemed unusually bright, or of a star
+that trembled with supernatural brilliancy. She stood a while gazing
+on the outward scene that harmonised with her own internal agitation:
+her grief was like the storm, her love like the light of that bright
+moon and star. There came over her a desire to see her mother, which
+she felt irresistible; she was resolved that no difficulty, no
+impediment, should prevent her instantly from throwing herself on her
+bosom. It seemed to her that her brain would burn, that this awful
+night could never end without such an interview. She opened her door,
+went forth again into the vestibule, and approached with a nervous but
+desperate step her mother's chamber. To her astonishment the door was
+ajar, but there was a light within. With trembling step and downcast
+eyes, Venetia entered the chamber, scarcely daring to advance, or to
+look up.
+
+'Mother,' she said, but no one answered; she heard the tick of the
+clock; it was the only sound. 'Mother,' she repeated, and she dared to
+look up, but the bed was empty. There was no mother. Lady Annabel was
+not in the room. Following an irresistible impulse, Venetia knelt by
+the side of her mother's bed and prayed. She addressed, in audible and
+agitated tones, that Almighty and Beneficent Being of whom she was
+so faithful and pure a follower. With sanctified simplicity, she
+communicated to her Creator and her Saviour all her distress, all her
+sorrow, all the agony of her perplexed and wounded spirit. If she had
+sinned, she prayed for forgiveness, and declared in solitude, to One
+whom she could not deceive, how unintentional was the trespass; if she
+were only misapprehended, she supplicated for comfort and consolation,
+for support under the heaviest visitation she had yet experienced, the
+displeasure of that earthly parent whom she revered only second to her
+heavenly Father.
+
+'For thou art my Father,' said Venetia, 'I have no other father
+but thee, O God! Forgive me, then, my heavenly parent, if in my
+wilfulness, if in my thoughtless and sinful blindness, I have sighed
+for a father on earth, as well as in heaven! Great have thy mercies
+been to me, O God! in a mother's love. Turn, then, again to me the
+heart of that mother whom I have offended! Let her look upon her child
+as before; let her continue to me a double parent, and let me pay to
+her the duty and the devotion that might otherwise have been divided!'
+
+'Amen!' said a sweet and solemn voice; and Venetia was clasped in her
+mother's arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+If the love of Lady Annabel for her child were capable of increase, it
+might have been believed that it absolutely became more profound and
+ardent after that short-lived but painful estrangement which we have
+related in the last chapter. With all Lady Annabel's fascinating
+qualities and noble virtues, a fine observer of human nature enjoying
+opportunities of intimately studying her character, might have
+suspected that an occasion only was wanted to display or develop in
+that lady's conduct no trifling evidence of a haughty, proud, and even
+inexorable spirit. Circumstanced as she was at Cherbury, with no one
+capable or desirous of disputing her will, the more gracious and
+exalted qualities of her nature were alone apparent. Entertaining a
+severe, even a sublime sense of the paramount claims of duty in all
+conditions and circumstances of life, her own conduct afforded an
+invariable and consistent example of her tenet; from those around her
+she required little, and that was cheerfully granted; while, on the
+other hand, her more eminent situation alike multiplied her own
+obligations and enabled her to fulfil them; she appeared, therefore,
+to pass her life in conferring happiness and in receiving gratitude.
+Strictly religious, of immaculate reputation, rigidly just,
+systematically charitable, dignified in her manners, yet more than
+courteous to her inferiors, and gifted at the same time with great
+self-control and great decision, she was looked up to by all within
+her sphere with a sentiment of affectionate veneration. Perhaps there
+was only one person within her little world who, both by disposition
+and relative situation, was qualified in any way to question her
+undoubted sway, or to cross by independence of opinion the tenour of
+the discipline she had established, and this was her child. Venetia,
+with one of the most affectionate and benevolent natures in the world,
+was gifted with a shrewd, inquiring mind, and a restless imagination.
+She was capable of forming her own opinions, and had both reason and
+feeling at command to gauge their worth. But to gain an influence over
+this child had been the sole object of Lady Annabel's life, and she
+had hitherto met that success which usually awaits in this world the
+strong purpose of a determined spirit. Lady Annabel herself was far
+too acute a person not to have detected early in life the talents of
+her child, and she was proud of them. She had cultivated them with
+exemplary devotion and with admirable profit. But Lady Annabel had not
+less discovered that, in the ardent and susceptible temperament of
+Venetia, means were offered by which the heart might be trained not
+only to cope with but overpower the intellect. With great powers of
+pleasing, beauty, accomplishments, a sweet voice, a soft manner, a
+sympathetic heart, Lady Annabel was qualified to charm the world; she
+had contrived to fascinate her daughter. She had inspired Venetia with
+the most romantic attachment for her: such as rather subsists
+between two female friends of the same age and hearts, than between
+individuals in the relative situations which they bore to each other.
+Yet while Venetia thus loved her mother, she could not but also
+respect and revere the superior being whose knowledge was her guide on
+all subjects, and whose various accomplishments deprived her secluded
+education of all its disadvantages; and when she felt that one so
+gifted had devoted her life to the benefit of her child, and that
+this beautiful and peerless lady had no other ambition but to be
+her guardian and attendant spirit; gratitude, fervent and profound,
+mingled with admiring reverence and passionate affection, and together
+formed a spell that encircled the mind of Venetia with talismanic
+sway.
+
+Under the despotic influence of these enchanted feelings, Venetia
+was fast growing into womanhood, without a single cloud having ever
+disturbed or sullied the pure and splendid heaven of her domestic
+life. Suddenly the horizon had become clouded, a storm had gathered
+and burst, and an eclipse could scarcely have occasioned more terror
+to the untutored roamer of the wilderness, than this unexpected
+catastrophe to one so inexperienced in the power of the passions as
+our heroine. Her heaven was again serene; but such was the effect
+of this ebullition on her character, so keen was her dread of again
+encountering the agony of another misunderstanding with her mother,
+that she recoiled with trembling from that subject which had so often
+and so deeply engaged her secret thoughts; and the idea of her father,
+associated as it now was with pain, mortification, and misery, never
+rose to her imagination but instantly to be shunned as some unhallowed
+image, of which the bitter contemplation was fraught with not less
+disastrous consequences than the denounced idolatry of the holy
+people.
+
+Whatever, therefore, might be the secret reasons which impelled Lady
+Annabel to shroud the memory of the lost parent of her child in such
+inviolate gloom, it is certain that the hitherto restless though
+concealed curiosity of Venetia upon the subject, the rash
+demonstration to which it led, and the consequence of her boldness,
+instead of threatening to destroy in an instant the deep and matured
+system of her mother, had, on the whole, greatly contributed to the
+fulfilment of the very purpose for which Lady Annabel had so long
+laboured. That lady spared no pains in following up the advantage
+which her acuteness and knowledge of her daughter's character assured
+her that she had secured. She hovered round her child more like an
+enamoured lover than a fond mother; she hung upon her looks, she read
+her thoughts, she anticipated every want and wish; her dulcet tones
+seemed even sweeter than before; her soft and elegant manners even
+more tender and refined. Though even in her childhood Lady Annabel had
+rather guided than commanded Venetia; now she rather consulted than
+guided her. She seized advantage of the advanced character and mature
+appearance of Venetia to treat her as a woman rather than a child, and
+as a friend rather than a daughter. Venetia yielded herself up to this
+flattering and fascinating condescension. Her love for her mother
+amounted to passion; she had no other earthly object or desire but to
+pass her entire life in her sole and sweet society; she could conceive
+no sympathy deeper or more delightful; the only unhappiness she
+had ever known had been occasioned by a moment trenching upon its
+exclusive privilege; Venetia could not picture to herself that such a
+pure and entrancing existence could ever experience a change.
+
+And this mother, this devoted yet mysterious mother, jealous of her
+child's regret for a father that she had lost, and whom she had never
+known! shall we ever penetrate the secret of her heart?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+It was in the enjoyment of these exquisite feelings that a year,
+and more than another year, elapsed at our lone hall of Cherbury.
+Happiness and content seemed at least the blessed destiny of the
+Herberts. Venetia grew in years, and grace, and loveliness; each day
+apparently more her mother's joy, and each day bound to that mother
+by, if possible, more ardent love. She had never again experienced
+those uneasy thoughts which at times had haunted her from her infancy;
+separated from her mother, indeed, scarcely for an hour together, she
+had no time to muse. Her studies each day becoming more various and
+interesting, and pursued with so gifted and charming a companion,
+entirely engrossed her; even the exercise that was her relaxation was
+participated by Lady Annabel; and the mother and daughter, bounding
+together on their steeds, were fanned by the same breeze, and
+freshened by the same graceful and healthy exertion.
+
+One day the post, that seldom arrived at Cherbury, brought a letter to
+Lady Annabel, the perusal of which evidently greatly agitated her.
+Her countenance changed as her eye glanced over the pages; her hand
+trembled as she held it. But she made no remark; and succeeded in
+subduing her emotion so quickly that Venetia, although she watched
+her mother with anxiety, did not feel justified in interfering with
+inquiring sympathy. But while Lady Annabel resumed her usual calm
+demeanour, she relapsed into unaccustomed silence, and, soon rising
+from the breakfast table, moved to the window, and continued
+apparently gazing on the garden, with her face averted from Venetia
+for some time. At length she turned to her, and said, 'I think,
+Venetia, of calling on the Doctor to-day; there is business on which I
+wish to consult him, but I will not trouble you, dearest, to accompany
+me. I must take the carriage, and it is a long and tiring drive.'
+
+There was a tone of decision even in the slightest observations of
+Lady Annabel, which, however sweet might be the voice in which they
+were uttered, scarcely encouraged their propriety to be canvassed. Now
+Venetia was far from desirous of being separated from her mother this
+morning. It was not a vain and idle curiosity, prompted by the receipt
+of the letter and its consequent effects, both in the emotion of her
+mother and the visit which it had rendered necessary, that swayed her
+breast. The native dignity of a well-disciplined mind exempted Venetia
+from such feminine weakness. But some consideration might be due to
+the quick sympathy of an affectionate spirit that had witnessed, with
+corresponding feeling, the disturbance of the being to whom she was
+devoted. Why this occasional and painful mystery that ever and anon
+clouded the heaven of their love, and flung a frigid shadow over the
+path of a sunshiny life? Why was not Venetia to share the sorrow or
+the care of her only friend, as well as participate in her joy and her
+content? There were other claims, too, to this confidence, besides
+those of the heart. Lady Annabel was not merely her only friend; she
+was her parent, her only parent, almost, for aught she had ever heard
+or learnt, her only relative. For her mother's family, though she was
+aware of their existence by the freedom with which Lady Annabel ever
+mentioned them, and though Venetia was conscious that an occasional
+correspondence was maintained between them and Cherbury, occupied no
+station in Venetia's heart, scarcely in her memory. That noble family
+were nullities to her; far distant, apparently estranged from her
+hearth, except in form she had never seen them; they were associated
+in her recollection with none of the sweet ties of kindred. Her
+grandfather was dead without her ever having received his blessing;
+his successor, her uncle, was an ambassador, long absent from his
+country; her only aunt married to a soldier, and established at a
+foreign station. Venetia envied Dr. Masham the confidence which was
+extended to him; it seemed to her, even leaving out of sight the
+intimate feelings that subsisted between her and her mother, that the
+claims of blood to this confidence were at least as strong as those of
+friendship. But Venetia stifled these emotions; she parted from her
+mother with a kind, yet somewhat mournful expression. Lady Annabel
+might have read a slight sentiment of affectionate reproach in the
+demeanour of her daughter when she bade her farewell. Whatever might
+be the consciousness of the mother, she was successful in concealing
+her impression. Very kind, but calm and inscrutable, Lady Annabel,
+having given directions for postponing the dinner-hour, embraced her
+child and entered the chariot.
+
+Venetia, from the terrace, watched her mother's progress through the
+park. After gazing for some minutes, a tear stole down her cheek. She
+started, as if surprised at her own emotion. And now the carriage
+was out of sight, and Venetia would have recurred to some of those
+resources which were ever at hand for the employment or amusement of
+her secluded life. But the favourite volume ceased to interest this
+morning, and almost fell from her hand. She tried her spinet, but her
+ear seemed to have lost its music; she looked at her easel, but the
+cunning had fled from her touch.
+
+Restless and disquieted, she knew not why, Venetia went forth again
+into the garden. All nature smiled around her; the flitting birds were
+throwing their soft shadows over the sunny lawns, and rustling amid
+the blossoms of the variegated groves. The golden wreaths of the
+laburnum and the silver knots of the chestnut streamed and glittered
+around; the bees were as busy as the birds, and the whole scene was
+suffused and penetrated with brilliancy and odour. It still was
+spring, and yet the gorgeous approach of summer, like the advancing
+procession of some triumphant king, might almost be detected amid the
+lingering freshness of the year; a lively and yet magnificent period,
+blending, as it were, Attic grace with Roman splendour; a time when
+hope and fruition for once meet, when existence is most full of
+delight, alike delicate and voluptuous, and when the human frame is
+most sensible to the gaiety and grandeur of nature.
+
+And why was not the spirit of the beautiful and innocent Venetia as
+bright as the surrounding scene? There are moods of mind that baffle
+analysis, that arise from a mysterious sympathy we cannot penetrate.
+At this moment the idea of her father irresistibly recurred to the
+imagination of Venetia. She could not withstand the conviction that
+the receipt of the mysterious letter and her mother's agitation were
+by some inexplicable connexion linked with that forbidden subject.
+Strange incidents of her life flitted across her memory: her mother
+weeping on the day they visited Marringhurst; the mysterious chambers;
+the nocturnal visit of Lady Annabel that Cadurcis had witnessed; her
+unexpected absence from her apartment when Venetia, in her despair,
+had visited her some months ago. What was the secret that enveloped
+her existence? Alone, which was unusual; dispirited, she knew not
+why; and brooding over thoughts which haunted her like evil spirits,
+Venetia at length yielded to a degree of nervous excitement which
+amazed her. She looked up to the uninhabited wing of the mansion with
+an almost fierce desire to penetrate its mysteries. It seemed to her
+that a strange voice came whispering on the breeze, urging her to the
+fulfilment of a mystical mission. With a vague, yet wild, purpose she
+entered the house, and took her way to her mother's chamber. Mistress
+Pauncefort was there. Venetia endeavoured to assume her accustomed
+serenity. The waiting-woman bustled about, arranging the toilet-table,
+which had been for a moment discomposed, putting away a cap, folding
+up a shawl, and indulging in a multitude of inane observations which
+little harmonised with the high-strung tension of Venetia's mind.
+Mistress Pauncefort opened a casket with a spring lock, in which she
+placed some trinkets of her mistress. Venetia stood by her in silence;
+her eye, vacant and wandering, beheld the interior of the casket.
+There must have been something in it, the sight of which greatly
+agitated her, for Venetia turned pale, and in a moment left the
+chamber and retired to her own room.
+
+She locked her door, threw herself in a chair; almost gasping for
+breath, she covered her face with her hands. It was some minutes
+before she recovered comparative composure; she rose and looked in
+the mirror; her face was quite white, but her eyes glittering with
+excitement. She walked up and down her room with a troubled step, and
+a scarlet flush alternately returned to and retired from her changing
+cheek. Then she leaned against a cabinet in thought. She was disturbed
+from her musings by the sound of Pauncefort's step along the
+vestibule, as she quitted her mother's chamber. In a few minutes
+Venetia herself stepped forth into the vestibule and listened. All was
+silent. The golden morning had summoned the whole household to its
+enjoyment. Not a voice, not a domestic sound, broke the complete
+stillness. Venetia again repaired to the apartment of Lady Annabel.
+Her step was light, but agitated; it seemed that she scarcely dared
+to breathe. She opened the door, rushed to the cabinet, pressed the
+spring lock, caught at something that it contained, and hurried again
+to her own chamber.
+
+And what is this prize that the trembling Venetia holds almost
+convulsively in her grasp, apparently without daring even to examine
+it? Is this the serene and light-hearted girl, whose face was like
+the cloudless splendour of a sunny day? Why is she so pallid and
+perturbed? What strong impulse fills her frame? She clutches in her
+hand a key!
+
+On that tempestuous night of passionate sorrow which succeeded the
+first misunderstanding between Venetia and her mother, when the voice
+of Lady Annabel had suddenly blended with that of her kneeling
+child, and had ratified with her devotional concurrence her wailing
+supplications; even at the moment when Venetia, in a rapture of love
+and duty, felt herself pressed to her mother's reconciled heart, it
+had not escaped her that Lady Annabel held in her hand a key; and
+though the feelings which that night had so forcibly developed, and
+which the subsequent conduct of Lady Annabel had so carefully and
+skilfully cherished, had impelled Venetia to banish and erase from her
+thought and memory all the associations which that spectacle, however
+slight, was calculated to awaken, still, in her present mood, the
+unexpected vision of the same instrument, identical she could not
+doubt, had triumphed in an instant over all the long discipline of
+her mind and conduct, in an instant had baffled and dispersed her
+self-control, and been hailed as the providential means by which she
+might at length penetrate that mystery which she now felt no longer
+supportable.
+
+The clock of the belfry of Cherbury at this moment struck, and Venetia
+instantly sprang from her seat. It reminded her of the preciousness
+of the present morning. Her mother was indeed absent, but her mother
+would return. Before that event a great fulfilment was to occur.
+Venetia, still grasping the key, as if it were the talisman of her
+existence, looked up to Heaven as if she required for her allotted
+task an immediate and special protection; her lips seemed to move, and
+then she again quitted her apartment. As she passed through an oriel
+in her way towards the gallery, she observed Pauncefort in the avenue
+of the park, moving in the direction of the keeper's lodge. This
+emboldened her. With a hurried step she advanced along the gallery,
+and at length stood before the long-sealed door that had so often
+excited her strange curiosity. Once she looked around; but no one was
+near, not a sound was heard. With a faltering hand she touched the
+lock; but her powers deserted her: for a minute she believed that the
+key, after all, would not solve the mystery. And yet the difficulty
+arose only from her own agitation. She rallied her courage; once more
+she made the trial; the key fitted with completeness, and the
+lock opened with ease, and Venetia found herself in a small and
+scantily-furnished ante-chamber. Closing the door with noiseless care,
+Venetia stood trembling in the mysterious chamber, where apparently
+there was nothing to excite wonder. The chamber into which the
+ante-room opened was still closed, and it was some minutes before the
+adventurous daughter of Lady Annabel could summon courage for the
+enterprise which awaited her.
+
+The door yielded without an effort. Venetia stepped into a spacious
+and lofty chamber. For a moment she paused almost upon the threshold,
+and looked around her with a vague and misty vision. Anon she
+distinguished something of the character of the apartment. In the
+recess of a large oriel window that looked upon the park, and of which
+the blinds were nearly drawn, was an old-fashioned yet sumptuous
+toilet-table of considerable size, arranged as if for use. Opposite
+this window, in a corresponding recess, was what might be deemed a
+bridal bed, its furniture being of white satin richly embroidered; the
+curtains half closed; and suspended from the canopy was a wreath of
+roses that had once emulated, or rather excelled, the lustrous purity
+of the hangings, but now were wan and withered. The centre of the
+inlaid and polished floor of the apartment was covered with a Tournay
+carpet of brilliant yet tasteful decoration. An old cabinet of
+fanciful workmanship, some chairs of ebony, and some girandoles of
+silver completed the furniture of the room, save that at its extreme
+end, exactly opposite to the door by which Venetia entered, covered
+with a curtain of green velvet, was what she concluded must be a
+picture.
+
+An awful stillness pervaded the apartment: Venetia herself, with
+a face paler even than the hangings of the mysterious bed, stood
+motionless with suppressed breath, gazing on the distant curtain with
+a painful glance of agitated fascination. At length, summoning her
+energies as if for the achievement of some terrible yet inevitable
+enterprise, she crossed the room, and averting her face, and closing
+her eyes in a paroxysm of nervous excitement, she stretched forth her
+arm, and with a rapid motion withdrew the curtain. The harsh sound of
+the brass rings drawn quickly over the rod, the only noise that had
+yet met her ear in this mystical chamber, made her start and tremble.
+She looked up, she beheld, in a broad and massy frame, the full-length
+portrait of a man.
+
+A man in the very spring of sunny youth, and of radiant beauty. Above
+the middle height, yet with a form that displayed exquisite grace, he
+was habited in a green tunic that enveloped his figure to advantage,
+and became the scene in which he was placed: a park, with a castle in
+the distance; while a groom at hand held a noble steed, that seemed
+impatient for the chase. The countenance of its intended rider met
+fully the gaze of the spectator. It was a countenance of singular
+loveliness and power. The lips and the moulding of the chin resembled
+the eager and impassioned tenderness of the shape of Antinous; but
+instead of the effeminate sullenness of the eye, and the narrow
+smoothness of the forehead, shone an expression of profound and
+piercing thought. On each side of the clear and open brow descended,
+even to the shoulders, the clustering locks of golden hair; while the
+eyes, large and yet deep, beamed with a spiritual energy, and shone
+like two wells of crystalline water that reflect the all-beholding
+heavens.
+
+Now when Venetia Herbert beheld this countenance a change came over
+her. It seemed that when her eyes met the eyes of the portrait, some
+mutual interchange of sympathy occurred between them. She freed
+herself in an instant from the apprehension and timidity that before
+oppressed her. Whatever might ensue, a vague conviction of having
+achieved a great object pervaded, as it were, her being. Some great
+end, vast though indefinite, had been fulfilled. Abstract and
+fearless, she gazed upon the dazzling visage with a prophetic heart.
+Her soul was in a tumult, oppressed with thick-coming fancies too big
+for words, panting for expression. There was a word which must be
+spoken: it trembled on her convulsive lip, and would not sound. She
+looked around her with an eye glittering with unnatural fire, as if to
+supplicate some invisible and hovering spirit to her rescue, or that
+some floating and angelic chorus might warble the thrilling word whose
+expression seemed absolutely necessary to her existence. Her cheek
+is flushed, her eye wild and tremulous, the broad blue veins of her
+immaculate brow quivering and distended; her waving hair falls back
+over her forehead, and rustles like a wood before the storm. She seems
+a priestess in the convulsive throes of inspiration, and about to
+breathe the oracle. The picture, as we have mentioned, was hung in
+a broad and massy frame. In the centre of its base was worked an
+escutcheon, and beneath the shield this inscription:
+
+    MARMION HERBERT, AET. XX.
+
+Yet there needed not these letters to guide the agitated spirit of
+Venetia, for, before her eye had reached them, the word was spoken;
+and falling on her knees before the portrait, the daughter of Lady
+Annabel had exclaimed, 'My father!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The daughter still kneels before the form of the father, of whom she
+had heard for the first time in her life. He is at length discovered.
+It was, then, an irresistible destiny that, after the wild musings and
+baffled aspirations of so many years, had guided her to this chamber.
+She is the child of Marmion Herbert; she beholds her lost parent. That
+being of supernatural beauty, on whom she gazes with a look of blended
+reverence and love, is her father. What a revelation! Its reality
+exceeded the wildest dreams of her romance; her brightest visions of
+grace and loveliness and genius seemed personified in this form; the
+form of one to whom she was bound by the strongest of all earthly
+ties, of one on whose heart she had a claim second only to that of the
+being by whose lips his name was never mentioned. Was he, then, no
+more? Ah! could she doubt that bitterest calamity? Ah! was it, was
+it any longer a marvel, that one who had lived in the light of those
+seraphic eyes, and had watched them until their terrestrial splendour
+had been for ever extinguished, should shrink from the converse that
+could remind her of the catastrophe of all her earthly hopes! This
+chamber, then, was the temple of her mother's woe, the tomb of her
+baffled affections and bleeding heart. No wonder that Lady Annabel,
+the desolate Lady Annabel, that almost the same spring must have
+witnessed the most favoured and the most disconsolate of women, should
+have fled from the world that had awarded her at the same time a lot
+so dazzling and so full of despair. Venetia felt that the existence
+of her mother's child, her own fragile being, could have been that
+mother's sole link to life. The heart of the young widow of Marmion
+Herbert must have broken but for Venetia; and the consciousness of
+that remaining tie, and the duties that it involved, could alone have
+sustained the victim under a lot of such unparalleled bitterness. The
+tears streamed down her cheek as she thought of her mother's misery,
+and her mother's gentle love; the misery that she had been so cautious
+her child should never share; the vigilant affection that, with all
+her own hopes blighted, had still laboured to compensate to her
+child for a deprivation the fulness of which Venetia could only now
+comprehend.
+
+When, where, why did he die? Oh that she might talk of him to her
+mother for ever! It seemed that life might pass away in listening to
+his praises. Marmion Herbert! and who was Marmion Herbert? Young as he
+was, command and genius, the pride of noble passions, all the glory of
+a creative mind, seemed stamped upon his brow. With all his marvellous
+beauty, he seemed a being born for greatness. Dead! in the very burst
+of his spring, a spring so sweet and splendid; could he be dead? Why,
+then, was he ever born? It seemed to her that he could not be dead;
+there was an animated look about the form, that seemed as if it could
+not die without leaving mankind a prodigal legacy of fame.
+
+Venetia turned and looked upon her parents' bridal bed. Now that
+she had discovered her father's portrait, every article in the room
+interested her, for her imagination connected everything with him. She
+touched the wreath of withered roses, and one instantly broke away
+from the circle, and fell; she knelt down, and gathered up the
+scattered leaves, and placed them in her bosom. She approached the
+table in the oriel: in its centre was a volume, on which reposed a
+dagger of curious workmanship; the volume bound in velvet, and the
+word 'ANNABEL' embroidered upon it in gold. Venetia unclasped it. The
+volume was his; in a fly-leaf were written these words:
+
+    'TO THE LADY OF MY LOVE, FROM HER MARMION HERBERT.'
+
+With a fluttering heart, yet sparkling eye, Venetia sank into a chair,
+which was placed before the table, with all her soul concentred in the
+contents of this volume. Leaning on her right hand, which shaded her
+agitated brow, she turned a page of the volume with a trembling hand.
+It contained a sonnet, delineating the feelings of a lover at the
+first sight of his beloved, a being to him yet unknown. Venetia
+perused with breathless interest the graceful and passionate picture
+of her mother's beauty. A series of similar compositions detailed the
+history of the poet's heart, and all the thrilling adventures of his
+enchanted life. Not an incident, not a word, not a glance, in that
+spell-bound prime of existence, that was not commemorated by his lyre
+in strains as sweet and as witching! Now he poured forth his passion;
+now his doubts; now his hopes; now came the glowing hour when he was
+first assured of his felicity; the next page celebrated her visit to
+the castle of his fathers; and another led her to the altar.
+
+With a flushed cheek and an excited eye, Venetia had rapidly pored
+over these ardent annals of the heart from whose blood she had sprung.
+She turns the page; she starts; the colour deserts her countenance;
+a mist glides over her vision; she clasps her hands with convulsive
+energy; she sinks back in her chair. In a few moments she extends one
+hand, as if fearful again to touch the book that had excited so much
+emotion, raises herself in her seat, looks around her with a vacant
+and perplexed gaze, apparently succeeds in collecting herself, and
+then seizes, with an eager grasp, the volume, and throwing herself on
+her, knees before the chair, her long locks hanging on each side over
+a cheek crimson as the sunset, loses her whole soul in the lines which
+the next page reveals.
+
+  ON THE NIGHT OUR DAUGHTER WAS BORN.
+
+  I.
+
+  Within our heaven of love, the new-born star
+  We long devoutly watched, like shepherd kings,
+  Steals into light, and, floating from afar,
+  Methinks some bright transcendent seraph sings,
+  Waving with flashing light her radiant wings,
+  Immortal welcome to the stranger fair:
+  To us a child is born. With transport clings
+  The mother to the babe she sighed to bear;
+  Of all our treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+  II.
+
+  My daughter! can it be a daughter now
+  Shall greet my being with her infant smile?
+  And shall I press that fair and taintless brow
+  With my fond lips, and tempt, with many a wile
+  Of playful love, those features to beguile
+  A parent with their mirth? In the wild sea
+  Of this dark life, behold a little isle
+  Rises amid the waters, bright and free,
+  A haven for my hopes of fond security!
+
+  III.
+
+  And thou shalt bear a name my line has loved,
+  And their fair daughters owned for many an age,
+  Since first our fiery blood a wanderer roved,
+  And made in sunnier lands his pilgrimage,
+  Where proud defiance with the waters wage
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard and honoured by the sage!
+  My own VENETIA now shall gild our bowers,
+  And with her spell enchain our life's enchanted hours!
+
+  IV.
+
+  Oh! if the blessing of a father's heart
+  Hath aught of sacred in its deep-breath'd prayer,
+  Skilled to thy gentle being to impart,
+  As thy bright form itself, a fate as fair;
+  On thee I breathe that blessing! Let me share,
+  O God! her joys; and if the dark behest
+  Of woe resistless, and avoidless care,
+  Hath, not gone forth, oh! spare this gentle guest.
+  And wreak thy needful wrath on my resigned breast!
+
+An hour elapsed, and Venetia did not move. Over and over again she
+conned the only address from the lips of her father that had ever
+reached her ear. A strange inspiration seconded the exertion of an
+exercised memory. The duty was fulfilled, the task completed. Then
+a sound was heard without. The thought that her mother had returned
+occurred to her; she looked up, the big tears streaming down her face;
+she listened, like a young hind just roused by the still-distant
+huntsman, quivering and wild: she listened, and she sprang up,
+replaced the volume, arranged the chair, cast one long, lingering,
+feverish glance at the portrait, skimmed through the room, hesitated
+one moment in the ante-chamber; opened, as all was silent, the no
+longer mysterious door, turned the noiseless lock, tripped lightly
+along the vestibule; glided into her mother's empty apartment,
+reposited the key that had opened so many wonders in the casket; and,
+then, having hurried to her own chamber, threw herself on her bed in a
+paroxysm of contending emotions, that left her no power of pondering
+over the strange discovery that had already given a new colour to her
+existence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Her mother had not returned; it was a false alarm; but Venetia could
+not quit her bed. There she remained, repeating to herself her
+father's verses. Then one thought alone filled her being. Was he dead?
+Was this fond father, who had breathed this fervent blessing over her
+birth, and invoked on his own head all the woe and misfortunes of her
+destiny, was he, indeed, no more? How swiftly must the arrow have sped
+after he received the announcement that a child was given to him,
+
+  Of all his treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+He could scarcely have embraced her ere the great Being, to whom he
+had offered his prayer, summoned him to his presence! Of that father
+she had not the slightest recollection; she had ascertained that she
+had reached Cherbury a child, even in arms, and she knew that her
+father had never lived under the roof. What an awful bereavement! Was
+it wonderful that her mother was inconsolable? Was it wonderful that
+she could not endure even his name to be mentioned in her presence;
+that not the slightest allusion to his existence could be tolerated by
+a wife who had been united to such a peerless being, only to behold
+him torn away from her embraces? Oh! could he, indeed, be dead? That
+inspired countenance that seemed immortal, had it in a moment been
+dimmed? and all the symmetry of that matchless form, had it indeed
+been long mouldering in the dust? Why should she doubt it? Ah! why,
+indeed? How could she doubt it? Why, ever and anon, amid the tumult of
+her excited mind, came there an unearthly whisper to her ear, mocking
+her with the belief that he still lived? But he was dead; he must be
+dead; and why did she live? Could she survive what she had seen and
+learnt this day? Did she wish to survive it? But her mother, her
+mother with all her sealed-up sorrows, had survived him. Why? For her
+sake; for her child; for 'his own Venetia!' His own!
+
+She clenched her feverish hand, her temples beat with violent
+palpitations, her brow was burning hot. Time flew on, and every minute
+Venetia was more sensible of the impossibility of rising to welcome
+her mother. That mother at length returned; Venetia could not again
+mistake the wheels of the returning carriage. Some minutes passed, and
+there was a knock at her door. With a choking voice Venetia bade them
+enter. It was Pauncefort.
+
+'Well, Miss,' she exclaimed, 'if you ayn't here, after all! I told my
+lady, "My lady," says I, "I am sure Miss Venetia must be in the park,
+for I saw her go out myself, and I have never seen her come home."
+And, after all, you are here. My lady has come home, you know, Miss,
+and has been inquiring for you several times.'
+
+'Tell mamma that I am not very well,' said Venetia, in a low voice,
+'and that I have been obliged to lie down.'
+
+'Not well, Miss,' exclaimed Pauncefort; 'and what can be the matter
+with you? I am afraid you have walked too much; overdone it, I dare
+say; or, mayhap, you have caught cold; it is an easterly wind: for I
+was saying to John this morning, "John," says I, "if Miss Venetia will
+walk about with only a handkerchief tied round her head, why, what can
+be expected?"'
+
+'I have only a headache, a very bad headache, Pauncefort; I wish to be
+quiet,' said Venetia.
+
+Pauncefort left the room accordingly, and straightway proceeded to
+Lady Annabel, when she communicated the information that Miss Venetia
+was in the house, after all, though she had never seen her return,
+and that she was lying down because she had a very bad headache. Lady
+Annabel, of course, did not lose a moment in visiting her darling. She
+entered the room softly, so softly that she was not heard; Venetia was
+lying on her bed, with her back to the door. Lady Annabel stood by her
+bedside for some moments unnoticed. At length Venetia heaved a
+deep sigh. Her mother then said in a soft voice, 'Are you in pain,
+darling?'
+
+'Is that mamma?' said Venetia, turning with quickness.
+
+'You are ill, dear,' said Lady Annabel, taking her hand. 'Your hand is
+hot; you are feverish. How long has my Venetia felt ill?'
+
+Venetia could not answer; she did nothing but sigh. Her strange manner
+excited her mother's wonder. Lady Annabel sat by the bedside, still
+holding her daughter's hand in hers, watching her with a glance of
+great anxiety.
+
+'Answer me, my love,' she repeated in a voice of tenderness. 'What do
+you feel?'
+
+'My head, my head,' murmured Venetia.
+
+Her mother pressed her own hand to her daughter's brow; it was very hot.
+'Does that pain you?' inquired Lady Annabel; but Venetia did not reply;
+her look was wild and abstracted. Her mother gently withdrew her hand,
+and then summoned Pauncefort, with whom she communicated without
+permitting her to enter the room.
+
+'Miss Herbert is very ill,' said Lady Annabel, pale, but in a firm
+tone. 'I am alarmed about her. She appears to me to have fever; send
+instantly to Southport for Mr. Hawkins; and let the messenger use
+and urge all possible expedition. Be in attendance in the vestibule,
+Pauncefort; I shall not quit her room, but she must be kept perfectly
+quiet.'
+
+Lady Annabel then drew her chair to the bedside of her daughter, and
+bathed her temples at intervals with rose-water; but none of these
+attentions apparently attracted the notice of the sufferer. She was,
+it would seem, utterly unconscious of all that was occurring. She now
+lay with her face turned towards her mother, but did not exchange even
+looks with her. She was restless, and occasionally she sighed deeply.
+
+Once, by way of experiment, Lady Annabel again addressed her, but
+Venetia gave no answer. Then the mother concluded what, indeed, had
+before attracted her suspicion, that Venetia's head was affected. But
+then, what was this strange, this sudden attack, which appeared to
+have prostrated her daughter's faculties in an instant? A few hours
+back, and Lady Annabel had parted from Venetia in all the glow of
+health and beauty. The season was most genial; her exercise had
+doubtless been moderate; as for her general health, so complete was
+her constitution, and so calm the tenour of her life, that Venetia
+had scarcely experienced in her whole career a single hour of
+indisposition. It was an anxious period of suspense until the medical
+attendant arrived from Southport. Fortunately he was one in whom, from
+reputation, Lady Annabel was disposed to place great trust; and his
+matured years, his thoughtful manner, and acute inquiries, confirmed
+her favourable opinion of him. All that Mr. Hawkins could say,
+however, was, that Miss Herbert had a great deal of fever, but the
+cause was concealed, and the suddenness of the attack perplexed him.
+He administered one of the usual remedies; and after an hour had
+elapsed, and no favourable change occurring, he blooded her. He
+quitted Cherbury, with the promise of returning late in the evening,
+having several patients whom he was obliged to visit.
+
+The night drew on; the chamber was now quite closed, but Lady Annabel
+never quitted it. She sat reading, removed from her daughter, that her
+presence might not disturb her, for Venetia seemed inclined to sleep.
+Suddenly Venetia spoke; but she said only one word, 'Father!'
+
+Lady Annabel started; her book nearly fell from her hand; she grew
+very pale. Quite breathless, she listened, and again Venetia spoke,
+and again called upon her father. Now, with a great effort, Lady
+Annabel stole on tiptoe to the bedside of her daughter. Venetia was
+lying on her back, her eyes were closed, her lips still as it were
+quivering with the strange word they had dared to pronounce. Again
+her voice sounded; she chanted, in an unearthly voice, verses. The
+perspiration stood in large drops on the pallid forehead of the mother
+as she listened. Still Venetia proceeded; and Lady Annabel, throwing
+herself on her knees, held up her hands to Heaven in an agony of
+astonishment, terror, and devotion.
+
+Now there was again silence; but her mother remained apparently buried
+in prayer. Again Venetia spoke; again she repeated the mysterious
+stanzas. With convulsive agony her mother listened to every fatal line
+that she unconsciously pronounced.
+
+The secret was then discovered. Yes! Venetia must have penetrated the
+long-closed chamber; all the labours of years had in a moment been
+subverted; Venetia had discovered her parent, and the effects of the
+discovery might, perhaps, be her death. Then it was that Lady Annabel,
+in the torture of her mind, poured forth her supplications that the
+life or the heart of her child might never be lost to her, 'Grant, O
+merciful God!' she exclaimed, 'that this sole hope of my being may be
+spared to me. Grant, if she be spared, that she may never desert her
+mother! And for him, of whom she has heard this day for the first
+time, let him be to her as if he were no more! May she never learn
+that he lives! May she never comprehend the secret agony of her
+mother's life! Save her, O God! save her from his fatal, his
+irresistible influence! May she remain pure and virtuous as she has
+yet lived! May she remain true to thee, and true to thy servant, who
+now bows before thee! Look down upon me at this moment with gracious
+mercy; turn to me my daughter's heart; and, if it be my dark doom to
+be in this world a widow, though a wife, add not to this bitterness
+that I shall prove a mother without a child!'
+
+At this moment the surgeon returned. It was absolutely necessary that
+Lady Annabel should compose herself. She exerted all that strength of
+character for which she was remarkable. From this moment she resolved,
+if her life were the forfeit, not to quit for an instant the bedside
+of Venetia until she was declared out of danger; and feeling conscious
+that if she once indulged her own feelings, she might herself soon
+be in a situation scarcely less hazardous than her daughter's, she
+controlled herself with a mighty effort. Calm as a statue, she
+received the medical attendant, who took the hand of the unconscious
+Venetia with apprehension too visibly impressed upon his grave
+countenance. As he took her hand, Venetia opened her eyes, stared at
+her mother and her attendant, and then immediately closed them.
+
+'She has slept?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'No,' said the surgeon, 'no: this is not sleep; it is a feverish
+trance that brings her no refreshment.' He took out his watch, and
+marked her pulse with great attention; then he placed his hand on her
+brow, and shook his head. 'These beautiful curls must come off,' he
+said. Lady Annabel glided to the table, and instantly brought the
+scissors, as if the delay of an instant might be fatal. The surgeon
+cut off those long golden locks. Venetia raised her hand to her head,
+and said, in a low voice, 'They are for my father.' Lady Annabel leant
+upon the surgeon's arm and shook.
+
+Now he led the mother to the window, and spoke in a hushed tone.
+
+'Is it possible that there is anything on your daughter's mind, Lady
+Annabel?' he inquired.
+
+The agitated mother looked at the inquirer, and then at her daughter;
+and then for a moment she raised her hand to her eyes; then she
+replied, in a low but firm voice, 'Yes.'
+
+'Your ladyship must judge whether you wish me to be acquainted with
+it,' said Mr. Hawkins, calmly.
+
+'My daughter has suddenly become acquainted, sir, with some family
+incidents of a painful nature, and the knowledge of which I have
+hitherto spared her. They are events long past, and their consequences
+are now beyond all control.'
+
+'She knows, then, the worst?'
+
+'Without her mind, I cannot answer that question,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is my duty to tell you that Miss Herbert is in imminent danger;
+she has every appearance of a fever of a malignant character. I cannot
+answer for her life.'
+
+'O God!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yet you must compose yourself, my dear lady. Her chance of recovery
+greatly depends upon the vigilance of her attendants. I shall bleed
+her again, and place leeches on her temples. There is inflammation on
+the brain. There are other remedies also not less powerful. We must
+not despair; we have no cause to despair until we find these fail. I
+shall not leave her again; and, for your satisfaction, not for my own,
+I shall call in additional advice, the aid of a physician.'
+
+A messenger accordingly was instantly despatched for the physician,
+who resided at a town more distant than Southport; the very town,
+by-the-bye, where Morgana, the gipsy, was arrested. They contrived,
+with the aid of Pauncefort, to undress Venetia, and place her in her
+bed, for hitherto they had refrained from this exertion. At this
+moment the withered leaves of a white rose fell from Venetia's dress.
+A sofa-bed was then made for Lady Annabel, of which, however, she did
+not avail herself. The whole night she sat by her daughter's side,
+watching every movement of Venetia, refreshing her hot brow and
+parched lips, or arranging, at every opportunity, her disordered
+pillows. About an hour past midnight the surgeon retired to rest, for
+a few hours, in the apartment prepared for him, and Pauncefort, by the
+desire of her mistress, also withdrew: Lady Annabel was alone with her
+child, and with those agitated thoughts which the strange occurrences
+of the day were well calculated to excite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Early in the morning the physician arrived at Cherbury. It remained
+for him only to approve of the remedies which had been pursued. No
+material change, however, had occurred in the state of Venetia: she
+had not slept, and still she seemed unconscious of what was occurring.
+The gracious interposition of Nature seemed the only hope. When the
+medical men had withdrawn to consult in the terrace-room, Lady Annabel
+beckoned to Pauncefort, and led her to the window of Venetia's
+apartment, which she would not quit.
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'Venetia has been in her father's
+room.'
+
+'Oh! impossible, my lady,' burst forth Mistress Pauncefort; but Lady
+Annabel placed her finger on her lip, and checked her. 'There is no
+doubt of it, there can be no doubt of it, Pauncefort; she entered it
+yesterday; she must have passed the morning there, when you believed
+she was in the park.'
+
+'But, my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'how could it be? For I scarcely left
+your la'ship's room a second, and Miss Venetia, I am sure, never was
+near it. And the key, my lady, the key is in the casket. I saw it half
+an hour ago with my own eyes.'
+
+'There is no use arguing about it, Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel,
+with decision. 'It is as I say. I fear great misfortunes are about to
+commence at Cherbury.'
+
+'Oh! my lady, don't think of such things,' said Pauncefort, herself
+not a little alarmed. 'What can happen?'
+
+'I fear more than I know,' said Lady Annabel; 'but I do fear much. At
+present I can only think of her.'
+
+'Well! my lady,' said poor Mistress Pauncefort, looking bewildered,
+'only to think of such a thing! and after all the pains I have taken!
+I am sure I have not opened my lips on the subject these fifteen
+years; and the many questions I have been asked too! I am sure there
+is not a servant in the house--'
+
+'Hush! hush!' said Lady Annabel, 'I do not blame you, and therefore
+you need not defend yourself. Go, Pauncefort, I must be alone.'
+Pauncefort withdrew, and Lady Annabel resumed her seat by her
+daughter's side.
+
+On the fourth day of her attack the medical attendants observed a
+favourable change in their patient, and were not, of course, slow in
+communicating this joyful intelligence to her mother. The crisis had
+occurred and was past: Venetia had at length sunk into slumber. How
+different was her countenance from the still yet settled features
+they had before watched with such anxiety! She breathed lightly, the
+tension of the eyelids had disappeared, her mouth was slightly open.
+The physician and his colleague declared that immediate danger was
+past, and they counselled Lady Annabel to take repose. On condition
+that one of them should remain by the side of her daughter, the
+devoted yet miserable mother quitted, for the first time her child's
+apartment. Pauncefort followed her to her room.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'I am so glad your la'ship is going to
+lie down a bit.'
+
+'I am not going to lie down, Pauncefort. Give me the key.'
+
+And Lady Annabel proceeded alone to the forbidden chamber, that
+chamber which, after what has occurred, we may now enter with her, and
+where, with so much labour, she had created a room exactly imitative
+of their bridal apartment at her husband's castle. With a slow but
+resolved step she entered the apartment, and proceeding immediately to
+the table, took up the book; it opened at the stanzas to Venetia. The
+pages had recently been bedewed with tears. Lady Annabel then looked
+at the bridal bed, and marked the missing rose in the garland: it was
+as she expected. She seated herself then in the chair opposite the
+portrait, on which she gazed with a glance rather stern than fond.
+
+'Marmion,' she exclaimed, 'for fifteen years, a solitary votary,
+I have mourned over, in this temple of baffled affections, the
+inevitable past. The daughter of our love has found her way, perhaps
+by an irresistible destiny, to a spot sacred to my long-concealed
+sorrows. At length she knows her father. May she never know more! May
+she never learn that the being, whose pictured form has commanded her
+adoration, is unworthy of those glorious gifts that a gracious Creator
+has bestowed upon him! Marmion, you seem to smile upon me; you seem
+to exult in your triumph over the heart of your child. But there is a
+power in a mother's love that yet shall baffle you. Hitherto I have
+come here to deplore the past; hitherto I have come here to dwell
+upon the form that, in spite of all that has happened, I still was,
+perhaps, weak enough, to love. Those feelings are past for ever. Yes!
+you would rob me of my child, you would tear from my heart the only
+consolation you have left me. But Venetia shall still be mine; and
+I, I am no longer yours. Our love, our still lingering love, has
+vanished. You have been my enemy, now I am yours. I gaze upon your
+portrait for the last time; and thus I prevent the magical fascination
+of that face again appealing to the sympathies of my child. Thus and
+thus!' She seized the ancient dagger that we have mentioned as lying
+on the volume, and, springing on the chair, she plunged it into the
+canvas; then, tearing with unflinching resolution the severed parts,
+she scattered the fragments over the chamber, shook into a thousand
+leaves the melancholy garland, tore up the volume of his enamoured
+Muse, and then quitting the chamber, and locking and double locking
+the door, she descended the staircase, and proceeding to the great
+well of Cherbury, hurled into it the fatal key.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, as she met Lady Annabel
+returning in the vestibule, 'Doctor Masham is here.'
+
+'Is he?' said Lady Annabel, as calm as usual. 'I will see him before I
+lie down. Do not go into Venetia's room. She sleeps, and Mr. Hawkins
+has promised me to let me know when she wakes.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+As Lady Annabel entered the terrace-room, Doctor Masham came forward
+and grasped her hand.
+
+'You have heard of our sorrow!' said her ladyship in a faint voice.
+
+'But this instant,' replied the Doctor, in a tone of great anxiety.'
+Immediate danger--'
+
+'Is past. She sleeps,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+'A most sudden and unaccountable attack,' said the Doctor.
+
+It is difficult to describe the contending emotions of the mother as
+her companion made this observation. At length she replied, 'Sudden,
+certainly sudden; but not unaccountable. Oh! my friend,' she added,
+after a moment's pause, 'they will not be content until they have torn
+my daughter from me.'
+
+'They tear your daughter from you!' exclaimed Doctor Masham. 'Who?'
+
+'He, he,' muttered Lady Annabel; her speech was incoherent, her manner
+very disturbed.
+
+'My dear lady,' said the Doctor, gazing on her with extreme anxiety,
+'you are yourself unwell.'
+
+Lady Annabel heaved a deep sigh; the Doctor bore her to a seat. 'Shall
+I send for any one, anything?'
+
+'No one, no one,' quickly answered Lady Annabel. 'With you, at least,
+there is no concealment necessary.'
+
+She leant back in her chair, the Doctor holding her hand, and standing
+by her side.
+
+Still Lady Annabel continued sighing deeply: at length she looked up
+and said, 'Does she love me? Do you think, after all, she loves me?'
+
+'Venetia?' inquired the Doctor, in a low and doubtful voice, for he
+was greatly perplexed.
+
+'She has seen him; she loves him; she has forgotten her mother.'
+
+'My dear lady, you require rest,' said Doctor Masham. 'You are
+overcome with strange fancies. Whom has your daughter seen?'
+
+'Marmion.'
+
+'Impossible! you forget he is--'
+
+'Here also. He has spoken to her: she loves him: she will recover: she
+will fly to him; sooner let us both die!'
+
+'Dear lady!'
+
+'She knows everything. Fate has baffled me; we cannot struggle with
+fate. She is his child; she is like him; she is not like her mother.
+Oh! she hates me; I know she hates me.'
+
+'Hush! hush! hush!' said the Doctor, himself very agitated. 'Venetia
+loves you, only you. Why should she love any one else?'
+
+'Who can help it? I loved him. I saw him. I loved him. His voice was
+music. He has spoken to her, and she yielded: she yielded in a moment.
+I stood by her bedside. She would not speak to me; she would not know
+me; she shrank from me. Her heart is with her father: only with him.'
+
+'Where did she see him? How?'
+
+'His room: his picture. She knows all. I was away with you, and she
+entered his chamber.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'Oh! Doctor, you have influence with her. Speak to her. Make her love
+me! Tell her she has no father; tell her he is dead.'
+
+'We will do that which is well and wise,' replied Doctor Masham: 'at
+present let us be calm; if you give way, her life may be the forfeit.
+Now is the moment for a mother's love.'
+
+'You are right. I should not have left her for an instant. I would not
+have her wake and find her mother not watching over her. But I was
+tempted. She slept; I left her for a moment; I went to destroy the
+spell. She cannot see him again. No one shall see him again. It was my
+weakness, the weakness of long years; and now I am its victim.'
+
+'Nay, nay, my sweet lady, all will be quite well. Be but calm; Venetia
+will recover.'
+
+'But will she love me? Oh! no, no, no! She will think only of him. She
+will not love her mother. She will yearn for her father now. She has
+seen him, and she will not rest until she is in his arms. She will
+desert me, I know it.'
+
+'And I know the contrary,' said the Doctor, attempting to reassure
+her; 'I will answer for Venetia's devotion to you. Indeed she has no
+thought but your happiness, and can love only you. When there is
+a fitting time, I will speak to her; but now, now is the time for
+repose. And you must rest, you must indeed.'
+
+'Rest! I cannot. I slumbered in the chair last night by her bedside,
+and a voice roused me. It was her own. She was speaking to her father.
+She told him how she loved him; how long, how much she thought of him;
+that she would join him when she was well, for she knew he was not
+dead; and, if he were dead, she would die also. She never mentioned
+me.'
+
+'Nay! the light meaning of a delirious brain.' 'Truth, truth, bitter,
+inevitable truth. Oh! Doctor, I could bear all but this; but my child,
+my beautiful fond child, that made up for all my sorrows. My joy, my
+hope, my life! I knew it would be so; I knew he would have her heart.
+He said she never could be alienated from him; he said she never
+could be taught to hate him. I did not teach her to hate him. I said
+nothing. I deemed, fond, foolish mother, that the devotion of my life
+might bind her to me. But what is a mother's love? I cannot contend
+with him. He gained the mother; he will gain the daughter too.'
+
+'God will guard over you,' said Masham, with streaming eyes; 'God will
+not desert a pious and virtuous woman.'
+
+'I must go,' said Lady Annabel, attempting to rise, but the Doctor
+gently controlled her; 'perhaps she is awake, and I am not at her
+side. She will not ask for me, she will ask for him; but I will be
+there; she will desert me, but she shall not say I ever deserted her.'
+
+'She will never desert you,' said the Doctor; 'my life on her pure
+heart. She has been a child of unbroken love and duty; still she
+will remain so. Her mind is for a moment overpowered by a marvellous
+discovery. She will recover, and be to you as she was before.'
+
+'We'll tell her he is dead,' said Lady Annabel, eagerly. 'You must
+tell her. She will believe you. I cannot speak to her of him; no, not
+to secure her heart; never, never, never can I speak to Venetia of her
+father.'
+
+'I will speak,' replied the Doctor, 'at the just time. Now let us
+think of her recovery. She is no longer in danger. We should be
+grateful, we should be glad.'
+
+'Let us pray to God! Let us humble ourselves,' said Lady Annabel. 'Let
+us beseech him not to desert this house. We have been faithful to him,
+we have struggled to be faithful to him. Let us supplicate him to
+favour and support us!'
+
+'He will favour and support you,' said the Doctor, in a solemn tone.
+'He has upheld you in many trials; he will uphold you still.'
+
+'Ah! why did I love him! Why did I continue to love him! How weak, how
+foolish, how mad I have been! I have alone been the cause of all this
+misery. Yes, I have destroyed my child.'
+
+'She lives, she will live. Nay, nay! you must reassure yourself. Come,
+let me send for your servant, and for a moment repose. Nay! take my
+arm. All depends upon you. We have great cares now; let us not conjure
+up fantastic fears.'
+
+'I must go to my daughter's room. Perhaps by her side I might rest.
+Nowhere else. You will attend me to the door, my friend. Yes! it is
+something in this life to have a friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel took the arm of the good Masham. They stopped at her
+daughter's door.
+
+'Rest here a moment,' she said, as she entered the room without a
+sound. In a moment she returned. 'She still sleeps,' said the mother;
+'I shall remain with her, and you--?'
+
+'I will not leave you,' said the Doctor, 'but think not of me. Nay! I
+will not leave you. I will remain under this roof. I have shared its
+serenity and joy; let me not avoid it in this time of trouble and
+tribulation.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Venetia still slept: her mother alone in the chamber watched by her
+side. Some hours had elapsed since her interview with Dr. Masham; the
+medical attendant had departed for a few hours.
+
+Suddenly Venetia moved, opened her eyes, and said in a faint voice,
+'Mamma!'
+
+The blood rushed to Lady Annabel's heart. That single word afforded
+her the most exquisite happiness.
+
+'I am here, dearest,' she replied.
+
+'Mamma, what is all this?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'You have not been well, my own, but now you are much better.'
+
+'I thought I had been dreaming,' replied Venetia, 'and that all was
+not right; somebody, I thought, struck me on my head. But all is right
+now, because you are here, my dear mamma.'
+
+But Lady Annabel could not speak for weeping.
+
+'Are you sure, mamma, that nothing has been done to my head?'
+continued Venetia. 'Why, what is this?' and she touched a light
+bandage on her brow.
+
+'My darling, you have been ill, and you have lost blood; but now you
+are getting quite well. I have been very unhappy about you; but now I
+am quite happy, my sweet, sweet child.'
+
+'How long have I been ill?'
+
+'You have been very ill indeed for four or five days; you have had a
+fever, Venetia; but now the fever is gone; and you are only a little
+weak, and you will soon be well.'
+
+'A fever! and how did I get the fever?'
+
+'Perhaps you caught cold, my child; but we must not talk too much.'
+
+'A fever! I never had a fever before. A fever is like a dream.'
+
+'Hush! sweet love. Indeed you must not speak.'
+
+'Give me your hand, mamma; I will not speak if you will let me hold
+your hand. I thought in the fever that we were parted.'
+
+'I have never left your side, my child, day or night,' said Lady
+Annabel, not without agitation.
+
+'All this time! all these days and nights! No one would do that but
+you, mamma. You think only of me.'
+
+'You repay me by your love, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, feeling that
+her daughter ought not to speak, yet irresistibly impelled to lead out
+her thoughts.
+
+'How can I help loving you, my dear mamma?'
+
+'You do love me, you do love me very much; do you not, sweet child?'
+
+'Better than all the world,' replied Venetia to her enraptured parent.
+'And yet, in the fever I seemed to love some one else: but fevers are
+like dreams; they are not true.'
+
+Lady Annabel pressed her lips gently to her daughter's, and whispered
+her that she must speak no more.
+
+When Mr. Hawkins returned, he gave a favourable report of Venetia. He
+said that all danger was now past, and that all that was required for
+her recovery were time, care, and repose. He repeated to Lady Annabel
+alone that the attack was solely to be ascribed to some great mental
+shock which her daughter had received, and which suddenly had affected
+her circulation; leaving it, after this formal intimation, entirely to
+the mother to take those steps in reference to the cause, whatever it
+might be, which she should deem expedient.
+
+In the evening, Lady Annabel stole down for a few moments to Dr.
+Masham, laden with joyful intelligence; assured of the safety of her
+child, and, what was still more precious, of her heart, and even
+voluntarily promising her friend that she should herself sleep
+this night in her daughter's chamber, on the sofa-bed. The Doctor,
+therefore, now bade her adieu, and said that he should ride over from
+Marringhurst every day, to hear how their patient was proceeding.
+
+From this time, the recovery of Venetia, though slow, was gradual. She
+experienced no relapse, and in a few weeks quitted her bed. She was
+rather surprised at her altered appearance when it first met her
+glance in the mirror, but scarcely made any observation on the loss of
+her locks. During this interval, the mind of Venetia had been quite
+dormant; the rage of the fever, and the violent remedies to which it
+had been necessary to have recourse, had so exhausted her, that she
+had not energy enough to think. All that she felt was a strange
+indefinite conviction that some occurrence had taken place with which
+her memory could not grapple. But as her strength returned, and as she
+gradually resumed her usual health, by proportionate though almost
+invisible degrees her memory returned to her, and her intelligence.
+She clearly recollected and comprehended what had taken place. She
+recalled the past, compared incidents, weighed circumstances, sifted
+and balanced the impressions that now crowded upon her consciousness.
+It is difficult to describe each link in the metaphysical chain which
+at length connected the mind of Venetia Herbert with her actual
+experience and precise situation. It was, however, at length perfect,
+and gradually formed as she sat in an invalid chair, apparently
+listless, not yet venturing on any occupation, or occasionally amused
+for a moment by her mother reading to her. But when her mind had thus
+resumed its natural tone, and in time its accustomed vigour, the past
+demanded all her solicitude. At length the mystery of her birth was
+revealed to her. She was the daughter of Marmion Herbert; and who was
+Marmion Herbert? The portrait rose before her. How distinct was the
+form, how definite the countenance! No common personage was Marmion
+Herbert, even had he not won his wife, and celebrated his daughter in
+such witching strains. Genius was stamped on his lofty brow, and spoke
+in his brilliant eye; nobility was in all his form. This chivalric
+poet was her father. She had read, she had dreamed of such beings, she
+had never seen them. If she quitted the solitude in which she lived,
+would she see men like her father? No other could ever satisfy her
+imagination; all beneath that standard would rank but as imperfect
+creations in her fancy. And this father, he was dead. No doubt.
+Ah! was there indeed no doubt? Eager as was her curiosity on this
+all-absorbing subject, Venetia could never summon courage to speak
+upon it to her mother. Her first disobedience, or rather her first
+deception of her mother, in reference to this very subject, had
+brought, and brought so swiftly on its retributive wings, such
+disastrous consequences, that any allusion to Lady Annabel was
+restrained by a species of superstitious fear, against which Venetia
+could not contend. Then her father was either dead or living. That was
+certain. If dead, it was clear that his memory, however cherished by
+his relict, was associated with feelings too keen to admit of any
+other but solitary indulgence. If living, there was a mystery
+connected with her parents, a mystery evidently of a painful
+character, and one which it was a prime object with her mother to
+conceal and to suppress. Could Venetia, then, in defiance of that
+mother, that fond devoted mother, that mother who had watched through
+long days and long nights over her sick bed, and who now, without a
+murmur, was a prisoner to this very room, only to comfort and console
+her child: could Venetia take any step which might occasion this
+matchless parent even a transient pang? No; it was impossible. To her
+mother she could never speak. And yet, to remain enveloped in the
+present mystery, she was sensible, was equally insufferable. All she
+asked, all she wanted to know, was he alive? If he were alive, then,
+although she could not see him, though she might never see him, she
+could exist upon his idea; she could conjure up romances of future
+existence with him; she could live upon the fond hope of some day
+calling him father, and receiving from his hands the fervid blessing
+he had already breathed to her in song.
+
+In the meantime her remaining parent commanded all her affections.
+Even if he were no more, blessed was her lot with such a mother! Lady
+Annabel seemed only to exist to attend upon her daughter. No lover
+ever watched with such devotion the wants or even the caprices of his
+mistress. A thousand times every day Venetia found herself expressing
+her fondness and her gratitude. It seemed that the late dreadful
+contingency of losing her daughter had developed in Lady Annabel's
+heart even additional powers of maternal devotion; and Venetia, the
+fond and grateful Venetia, ignorant of the strange past, which she
+believed she so perfectly comprehended, returned thanks to Heaven that
+her mother was at least spared the mortification of knowing that her
+daughter, in her absence, had surreptitiously invaded the sanctuary of
+her secret sorrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+When Venetia had so far recovered that, leaning on her mother's arm,
+she could resume her walks upon the terrace, Doctor Masham persuaded
+his friends, as a slight and not unpleasant change of scene, to pay
+him a visit at Marringhurst. Since the chamber scene, indeed, Lady
+Annabel's tie to Cherbury was much weakened. There were certain
+feelings of pain, and fear, and mortification, now associated with
+that place which she could not bear to dwell upon, and which greatly
+balanced those sentiments of refuge and repose, of peace and love,
+with which the old hall, in her mind, was heretofore connected.
+Venetia ever adopted the slightest intimations of a wish on the part
+of her mother, and so she readily agreed to fall into the arrangement.
+
+It was rather a long and rough journey to Marringhurst, for they were
+obliged to use the old chariot; but Venetia forgot her fatigues in
+the cordial welcome of their host, whose sparkling countenance well
+expressed the extreme gratification their arrival occasioned him.
+All that the tenderest solicitude could devise for the agreeable
+accommodation of the invalid had been zealously concerted; and the
+constant influence of Dr. Masham's cheerful mind was as beneficial to
+Lady Annabel as to her daughter. The season was gay, the place was
+pleasant; and although they were only a few miles from home, in a
+house with which they were familiar, and their companion one whom they
+had known intimately all their lives, and of late almost daily seen;
+yet such is the magic of a change in our habits, however slight, and
+of the usual theatre of their custom, that this visit to Marringhurst
+assumed quite the air of an adventure, and seemed at first almost
+invested with the charm and novelty of travel.
+
+The surrounding country, which, though verdant, was flat, was well
+adapted to the limited exertions and still feeble footsteps of an
+invalid, and Venetia began to study botany with the Doctor, who indeed
+was not very profound in his attainments in this respect, but knew
+quite enough to amuse his scholar. By degrees also, as her strength
+daily increased, they extended their walks; and at length she even
+mounted her pony, and was fast recovering her elasticity both of body
+and mind. There were also many pleasant books with which she was
+unacquainted; a cabinet of classic coins, prints, and pictures. She
+became, too, interested in the Doctor's rural pursuits; would watch
+him with his angle, and already meditated a revolution in his garden.
+So time, on the whole, flew cheerfully on, certainly without
+any weariness; and the day seldom passed that they did not all
+congratulate themselves on the pleasant and profitable change.
+
+In the meantime Venetia, when alone, still recurred to that idea that
+was now so firmly rooted in her mind, that it was quite out of the
+power of any social discipline to divert her attention from it. She
+was often the sole companion of the Doctor, and she had long resolved
+to seize a favourable opportunity to appeal to him on the subject of
+her father. It so happened that she was walking alone with him one
+morning in the neighbourhood of Marringhurst, having gone to visit the
+remains of a Roman encampment in the immediate vicinity. When they had
+arrived at the spot, and the Doctor had delivered his usual lecture on
+the locality, they sat down together on a mound, that Venetia might
+rest herself.
+
+'Were you ever in Italy, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'I never was out of my native country,' said the Doctor. 'I once,
+indeed, was about making the grand tour with a pupil of mine at
+Oxford, but circumstances interfered which changed his plans, and so I
+remain a regular John Bull.'
+
+'Was my father at Oxford?' said Venetia, quietly.
+
+'He was,' replied the Doctor, looking confused.
+
+'I should like to see Oxford much,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is a most interesting seat of learning,' said the Doctor, quite
+delighted to change the subject. 'Whether we consider its antiquity,
+its learning, the influence it has exercised upon the history of the
+country, its magnificent endowments, its splendid buildings, its great
+colleges, libraries, and museums, or that it is one of the principal
+head-quarters of all the hope of England, our youth, it is not too
+much to affirm that there is scarcely a spot on the face of the globe
+of equal interest and importance.'
+
+'It is not for its colleges, or libraries, or museums, or all its
+splendid buildings,' observed Venetia, 'that I should wish to see it.
+I wish to see it because my father was once there. I should like to
+see a place where I was quite certain my father had been.'
+
+'Still harping of her father,' thought the Doctor to himself, and
+growing uneasy; yet, from his very anxiety to turn the subject, quite
+incapable of saying an appropriate word.
+
+'Do you remember my father at Oxford, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes! no, yes!' said the Doctor, rather colouring; 'that he must have
+been there in my time, I rather think.'
+
+'But you do not recollect him?' said Venetia, pressing question.
+
+'Why,' rejoined the Doctor, a little more collected, 'when you
+remember that there are between two and three thousand young men at
+the university, you must not consider it very surprising that I might
+not recollect your father.'
+
+'No,' said Venetia, 'perhaps not: and yet I cannot help thinking that
+he must always have been a person who, if once seen, would not easily
+have been forgotten.'
+
+'Here is an Erica vagans,' said the Doctor, picking a flower; 'it
+is rather uncommon about here;' and handing it at the same time to
+Venetia.
+
+'My father must have been very young when he died?' said Venetia,
+scarcely looking at the flower.
+
+'Yes, your father was very young,' he replied.
+
+'Where did he die?'
+
+'I cannot answer that question.'
+
+'Where was he buried?'
+
+'You know, my dear young lady, that the subject is too tender for any
+one to converse with your poor mother upon it. It is not in my power
+to give you the information you desire. Be satisfied, my dear Miss
+Herbert, that a gracious Providence has spared to you one parent, and
+one so inestimable.'
+
+'I trust I know how to appreciate so great a blessing,' replied
+Venetia; 'but I should be sorry if the natural interest which all
+children must take in those who have given them birth, should be
+looked upon as idle and unjustifiable curiosity.'
+
+'My dear young lady, you misapprehend me.'
+
+'No, Doctor Masham, indeed I do not,' replied Venetia, with firmness.
+'I can easily conceive that the mention of my father may for various
+reasons be insupportable to my mother; it is enough for me that I am
+convinced such is the case: my lips are sealed to her for ever upon
+the subject; but I cannot recognise the necessity of this constraint
+to others. For a long time I was kept in ignorance whether I had
+a father or not. I have discovered, no matter how, who he was. I
+believe, pardon me, my dearest friend, I cannot help believing, that
+you were acquainted, or, at least, that you know something of him; and
+I entreat you! yes,' repeated Venetia with great emphasis, laying
+her hand upon his arm, and looking with earnestness in his face, 'I
+entreat you, by all your kind feelings to my mother and myself, by all
+that friendship we so prize, by the urgent solicitation of a daughter
+who is influenced in her curiosity by no light or unworthy feeling;
+yes! by all the claims of a child to information which ought not to be
+withheld from her, tell me, tell me all, tell me something! Speak, Dr.
+Masham, do speak!'
+
+'My dear young lady,' said the Doctor, with a glistening eye, 'it is
+better that we should both be silent.'
+
+'No, indeed,' replied Venetia, 'it is not better; it is not well that
+we should be silent. Candour is a great virtue. There is a charm, a
+healthy charm, in frankness. Why this mystery? Why these secrets? Have
+they worked good? Have they benefited us? O! my friend, I would not
+say so to my mother, I would not be tempted by any sufferings to pain
+for an instant her pure and affectionate heart; but indeed, Doctor
+Masham, indeed, indeed, what I tell you is true, all my late illness,
+my present state, all, all are attributable but to one cause, this
+mystery about my father!'
+
+'What can I tell you?' said the unhappy Masham.
+
+'Tell me only one fact. I ask no more. Yes! I promise you, solemnly I
+promise you, I will ask no more. Tell me, does he live?'
+
+'He does!' said the Doctor. Venetia sank upon his shoulder.
+
+'My dear young lady, my darling young lady!' said the Doctor; 'she has
+fainted. What can I do?' The unfortunate Doctor placed Venetia in a
+reclining posture, and hurried to a brook that was nigh, and brought
+water in his hand to sprinkle on her. She revived; she made a struggle
+to restore herself.
+
+'It is nothing,' she said, 'I am resolved to be well. I am well. I am
+myself again. He lives; my father lives! I was confident of it! I will
+ask no more. I am true to my word. O! Doctor Masham, you have always
+been my kind friend, but you have never yet conferred on me a favour
+like the one you have just bestowed.'
+
+'But it is well,' said the Doctor, 'as you know so much, that you
+should know more.'
+
+'Yes! yes!'
+
+'As we walk along,' he continued, 'we will converse, or at another
+time; there is no lack of opportunity.'
+
+'No, now, now!' eagerly exclaimed Venetia, 'I am quite well. It was
+not pain or illness that overcame me. Now let us walk, now let us talk
+of these things. He lives?'
+
+'I have little to add,' said Dr. Masham, after a moment's thought;
+'but this, however painful, it is necessary for you to know, that your
+father is unworthy of your mother, utterly; they are separated; they
+never can be reunited.'
+
+'Never?' said Venetia.
+
+'Never,' replied Dr. Masham; 'and I now warn you; if, indeed, as I
+cannot doubt, you love your mother; if her peace of mind and happiness
+are, as I hesitate not to believe, the principal objects of your life,
+upon this subject with her be for ever silent. Seek to penetrate no
+mysteries, spare all allusions, banish, if possible, the idea of your
+father from your memory. Enough, you know he lives. We know no more.
+Your mother labours to forget him; her only consolation for sorrows
+such as few women ever experienced, is her child, yourself, your love.
+Now be no niggard with it. Cling to this unrivalled parent, who has
+dedicated her life to you. Soothe her sufferings, endeavour to make
+her share your happiness; but, of this be certain, that if you
+raise up the name and memory of your father between your mother and
+yourself, her life will be the forfeit!'
+
+'His name shall never pass my lips,' said Venetia; 'solemnly I vow it.
+That his image shall be banished from my heart is too much to ask, and
+more than it is in my power to grant. But I am my mother's child. I
+will exist only for her; and if my love can console her, she shall
+never be without solace. I thank you, Doctor, for all your kindness.
+We will never talk again upon the subject; yet, believe me, you have
+acted wisely, you have done good.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia observed her promise to Doctor Masham with strictness. She
+never alluded to her father, and his name never escaped her mother's
+lips. Whether Doctor Masham apprised Lady Annabel of the conversation
+that had taken place between himself and her daughter, it is not in
+our power to mention. The visit to Marringhurst was not a short one.
+It was a relief both to Lady Annabel and Venetia, after all that had
+occurred, to enjoy the constant society of their friend; and this
+change of life, though apparently so slight, proved highly beneficial
+to Venetia. She daily recovered her health, and a degree of mental
+composure which she had not for some time enjoyed. On the whole she
+was greatly satisfied with the discoveries which she had made. She had
+ascertained the name and the existence of her father: his very form
+and appearance were now no longer matter for conjecture; and in a
+degree she had even communicated with him. Time, she still believed,
+would develope even further wonders. She clung to an irresistible
+conviction that she should yet see him; that he might even again
+be united to her mother. She indulged in dreams as to his present
+pursuits and position; she repeated to herself his verses, and
+remembered his genius with pride and consolation.
+
+They returned to Cherbury, they resumed the accustomed tenour of their
+lives, as if nothing had occurred to disturb it. The fondness between
+the mother and her daughter was unbroken and undiminished. They shared
+again the same studies and the same amusements. Lady Annabel perhaps
+indulged the conviction that Venetia had imbibed the belief that her
+father was no more, and yet in truth that father was the sole idea on
+which her child ever brooded. Venetia had her secret now; and often
+as she looked up at the windows of the uninhabited portion of the
+building, she remembered with concealed, but not less keen exultation,
+that she had penetrated their mystery. She could muse for hours over
+all that chamber had revealed to her, and indulge in a thousand
+visions, of which her father was the centre. She was his 'own
+Venetia.' Thus he had hailed her at her birth, and thus he might yet
+again acknowledge her. If she could only ascertain where he existed!
+What if she could, and she were to communicate with him? He must love
+her. Her heart assured her he must love her. She could not believe,
+if they were to meet, that his breast could resist the silent appeal
+which the sight merely of his only child would suffice to make. Oh!
+why had her parents parted? What could have been his fault? He was so
+young! But a few, few years older than herself, when her mother must
+have seen him for the last time. Yes! for the last time beheld that
+beautiful form, and that countenance that seemed breathing only with
+genius and love. He might have been imprudent, rash, violent; but
+she would not credit for an instant that a stain could attach to the
+honour or the spirit of Marmion Herbert.
+
+The summer wore away. One morning, as Lady Annabel and Venetia were
+sitting together, Mistress Pauncefort bustled into the room with
+a countenance radiant with smiles and wonderment. Her ostensible
+business was to place upon the table a vase of flowers, but it was
+evident that her presence was occasioned by affairs of far greater
+urgency. The vase was safely deposited; Mistress Pauncefort gave the
+last touch to the arrangement of the flowers; she lingered about Lady
+Annabel. At length she said, 'I suppose you have heard the news, my
+lady?'
+
+'Indeed, Pauncefort, I have not,' replied Lady Annabel. 'What news?'
+
+'My lord is coming to the abbey.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'Oh! yes, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'I am not at all
+surprised your ladyship should be so astonished. Never to write, too!
+Well, I must say he might have given us a line. But he is coming, I am
+certain sure of that, my lady. My lord's gentleman has been down these
+two days; and all his dogs and guns too, my lady. And the keeper is
+ordered to be quite ready, my lady, for the first. I wonder if there
+is going to be a party. I should not be at all surprised.'
+
+'Plantagenet returned!' said Lady Annabel. 'Well, I shall be very glad
+to see him again.'
+
+'So shall I, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'but I dare say we
+shall hardly know him again, he must be so grown. Trimmer has been
+over to the abbey, my lady, and saw my lord's valet. Quite the fine
+gentleman, Trimmer says. I was thinking of walking over myself this
+afternoon, to see poor Mrs. Quin, my lady; I dare say we might be
+of use, and neighbours should be handy, as they say. She is a very
+respectable woman, poor Mrs. Quin, and I am sure for my part, if your
+ladyship has no objection, I should be very glad to be of service to
+her.'
+
+'I have of course no objection, Pauncefort, to your being of service
+to the housekeeper, but has she required your assistance?'
+
+'Why no, my lady, but poor Mrs. Quin would hardly like to ask for
+anything, my lady; but I am sure we might be of very great use, for
+my lord's gentleman seems very dissatisfied at his reception, Trimmer
+says. He has his hot breakfast every morning, my lady, and poor Mrs.
+Quin says--'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, that will do,' said Lady Annabel, and the
+functionary disappeared.
+
+'We have almost forgotten Plantagenet, Venetia,' added Lady Annabel,
+addressing herself to her daughter.
+
+'He has forgotten us, I think, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Five years had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis had quitted the seat of his
+fathers, nor did the fair inhabitants of Cherbury hear of his return
+without emotion. Although the intercourse between them during this
+interval had from the first been too slightly maintained, and of late
+years had entirely died off, his return was, nevertheless, an event
+which recalled old times and revived old associations. His visit to
+the hall was looked forward to with interest. He did not long keep his
+former friends in suspense; for although he was not uninfluenced by
+some degree of embarrassment from the consciousness of neglect on his
+side, rendered more keen now that he again found himself in the scene
+endeared by the remembrance of their kindness, he was, nevertheless,
+both too well bred and too warm-hearted to procrastinate the
+performance of a duty which the regulations of society and natural
+impulse alike assured him was indispensable. On the very morning,
+therefore, after his arrival, having sauntered awhile over the old
+abbey and strolled over the park, mused over his mother's tomb with
+emotion, not the less deep because there was no outward and visible
+sign of its influence, he ordered his horses, and directed his way
+through the accustomed woods to Cherbury.
+
+Five years had not passed away without their effects at least upon the
+exterior being of Cadurcis. Although still a youth, his appearance
+was manly. A thoughtful air had become habitual to a countenance
+melancholy even in his childhood. Nor was its early promise of beauty
+unfulfilled; although its expression was peculiar, and less pleasing
+than impressive. His long dark locks shaded a pale and lofty brow that
+well became a cast of features delicately moulded, yet reserved and
+haughty, and perhaps even somewhat scornful. His figure had set into a
+form of remarkable slightness and elegance, and distinguished for
+its symmetry. Altogether his general mien was calculated to attract
+attention and to excite interest.
+
+His vacations while at Eton had been spent by Lord Cadurcis in the
+family of his noble guardian, one of the king's ministers. Here he had
+been gradually initiated in the habits and manners of luxurious and
+refined society. Since he had quitted Eton he had passed a season,
+previous to his impending residence at Cambridge, in the same sphere.
+The opportunities thus offered had not been lost upon a disposition
+which, with all its native reserve, was singularly susceptible.
+Cadurcis had quickly imbibed the tone and adopted the usages of
+the circle in which he moved. Naturally impatient of control, he
+endeavoured by his precocious manhood to secure the respect and
+independence which would scarcely have been paid or permitted to his
+years. From an early period he never permitted himself to be treated
+as a boy; and his guardian, a man whose whole soul was concentred in
+the world, humoured a bent which he approved and from which he augured
+the most complete success. Attracted by the promising talents and the
+premature character of his ward, he had spared more time to assist the
+development of his mind and the formation of his manners than might
+have been expected from a minister of state. His hopes, indeed, rested
+with confidence on his youthful relative, and he looked forward with
+no common emotion to the moment when he should have the honour of
+introducing to public life one calculated to confer so much credit
+on his tutor, and shed so much lustre on his party. The reader will,
+therefore, not be surprised if at this then unrivalled period of
+political excitement, when the existence of our colonial empire was
+at stake, Cadurcis, with his impetuous feelings, had imbibed to
+their fullest extent all the plans, prejudices, and passions of his
+political connections. He was, indeed, what the circumstances of the
+times and his extreme youth might well excuse, if not justify, a most
+violent partisan. Bold, sanguine, resolute, and intolerant, it was
+difficult to persuade him that any opinions could be just which were
+opposed to those of the circle in which he lived; and out of that
+pale, it must be owned, he was as little inclined to recognise the
+existence of ability as of truth.
+
+As Lord Cadurcis slowly directed his way through the woods and park of
+Cherbury, past years recurred to him like a faint yet pleasing dream.
+Among these meads and bowers had glided away the only happy years of
+his boyhood, the only period of his early life to which he could look
+back without disgust. He recalled the secret exultation with which, in
+company with his poor mother, he had first repaired to Cadurcis, about
+to take possession of what, to his inexperienced imagination, then
+appeared a vast and noble inheritance, and for the first time in his
+life to occupy a position not unworthy of his rank. For how many
+domestic mortifications did the first sight of that old abbey
+compensate! How often, in pacing its venerable galleries and solemn
+cloisters, and musing over the memory of an ancient and illustrious
+ancestry, had he forgotten those bitter passages of daily existence,
+so humbling to his vanity and so harassing to his heart! Ho had beheld
+that morn, after an integral of many years, the tomb of his mother.
+That simple and solitary monument had revived and impressed upon him a
+conviction that too easily escaped in the various life and busy scenes
+in which he had since moved, the conviction of his worldly desolation
+and utter loneliness. He had no parents, no relations; now that he was
+for a moment free from the artificial life in which he had of late
+mingled, he felt that he had no friends. The image of his mother came
+back to him, softened by the magical tint of years; after all she was
+his mother, and a deep sharer in all his joys and woes. Transported to
+the old haunts of his innocent and warm-hearted childhood. He sighed
+for a finer and a sweeter sympathy than was ever yielded by the roof
+which he had lately quitted; a habitation, but not a home. He conjured
+up the picture of his guardian, existing in a whirl of official bustle
+and social excitement. A dreamy reminiscence of finer impulses stole
+over the heart of Cadurcis. The dazzling pageant of metropolitan
+splendour faded away before the bright scene of nature that surrounded
+him. He felt the freshness of the fragrant breeze; he gazed with
+admiration on the still and ancient woods, and his pure and lively
+blood bubbled beneath the influence of the golden sunbeams. Before him
+rose the halls of Cherbury, that roof where he had been so happy, that
+roof to which he had appeared so ungrateful. The memory of a thousand
+acts of kindness, of a thousand soft and soothing traits of affection,
+recurred to him with a freshness which startled as much as it pleased
+him. Not to him only, but to his mother, that mother whose loss he had
+lived to deplore, had the inmates of Cherbury been ministering angels
+of peace and joy. Oh! that indeed had been a home; there indeed had
+been days of happiness; there indeed he had found sympathy, and
+solace, and succour! And now he was returning to them a stranger, to
+fulfil one of the formal duties of society in paying them his cold
+respects; an attention which he could scarcely have avoided offering
+had he been to them the merest acquaintance, instead of having found
+within those walls a home not merely in words, but friendship the most
+delicate and love the most pure, a second parent, and the only being
+whom he had ever styled sister!
+
+The sight of Cadurcis became dim with emotion as the associations of
+old scenes and his impending interview with Venetia brought back
+the past with a power which he had rarely experienced in the
+playing-fields of Eton, or the saloons of London. Five years! It was
+an awful chasm in their acquaintance.
+
+He despaired of reviving the kindness which had been broken by such a
+dreary interval, and broken on his side so wilfully; and yet he
+began to feel that unless met with that kindness he should be very
+miserable. Sooth to say, he was not a little embarrassed, and scarcely
+knew which contingency he most desired, to meet, or to escape from
+her. He almost repented his return to Cadurcis, and yet to see Venetia
+again he felt must be exquisite pleasure. Influenced by these feelings
+he arrived at the hall steps, and so, dismounting and giving his horse
+to his groom, Cadurcis, with a palpitating heart and faltering hand,
+formally rang the bell of that hall which in old days he entered at
+all seasons without ceremony.
+
+Never perhaps did a man feel more nervous; he grew pale, paler even
+than usual, and his whole frame trembled as the approaching footstep
+of the servant assured him the door was about to open. He longed now
+that the family might not be at home, that he might at least gain
+four-and-twenty hours to prepare himself. But the family were at home
+and he was obliged to enter. He stopped for a moment in the hall under
+the pretence of examining the old familiar scene, but it was merely to
+collect himself, for his sight was clouded; spoke to the old servant,
+to reassure himself by the sound of his own voice, but the husky words
+seemed to stick in his throat; ascended the staircase with tottering
+steps, and leant against the banister as he heard his name announced.
+The effort, however, must be made; it was too late to recede; and Lord
+Cadurcis, entering the terrace-room, extended his hand to Lady Annabel
+Herbert. She was not in the least changed, but looked as beautiful and
+serene as usual. Her salutation, though far from deficient in warmth,
+was a little more dignified than that which Plantagenet remembered;
+but still her presence reassured him, and while he pressed her hand
+with earnestness he contrived to murmur forth with pleasing emotion,
+his delight at again meeting her. Strange to say, in the absorbing
+agitation of the moment, all thought of Venetia had vanished; and
+it was when he had turned and beheld a maiden of the most exquisite
+beauty that his vision had ever lighted on, who had just risen from
+her seat and was at the moment saluting him, that he entirely lost his
+presence of mind; he turned scarlet, was quite silent, made an awkward
+bow, and then stood perfectly fixed.
+
+'My daughter,' said Lady Annabel, slightly pointing to Venetia; 'will
+not you be seated?'
+
+Cadurcis fell into a chair in absolute confusion. The rare and
+surpassing beauty of Venetia, his own stupidity, his admiration of
+her, his contempt for himself, the sight of the old chamber, the
+recollection of the past, the minutest incidents of which seemed all
+suddenly to crowd upon his memory, the painful consciousness of the
+revolution which had occurred in his position in the family, proved by
+his first being obliged to be introduced to Venetia, and then
+being addressed so formally by his title by her mother; all these
+impressions united overcame him; he could not speak, he sat silent and
+confounded; and had it not been for the imperturbable self-composure
+and delicate and amiable consideration of Lady Annabel, it would
+have been impossible for him to have remained in a room where he
+experienced agonising embarrassment.
+
+Under cover, however, of a discharge of discreet inquiries as to when
+he arrived, how long he meant to stay, whether he found Cadurcis
+altered, and similar interrogations which required no extraordinary
+exertion of his lordship's intellect to answer, but to which he
+nevertheless contrived to give inconsistent and contradictory
+responses, Cadurcis in time recovered himself sufficiently to maintain
+a fair though not very brilliant conversation, and even ventured
+occasionally to address an observation to Venetia, who was seated at
+her work perfectly composed, but who replied to all his remarks with
+the same sweet voice and artless simplicity which had characterised
+her childhood, though time and thought had, by their blended
+influence, perhaps somewhat deprived her of that wild grace and
+sparkling gaiety for which she was once so eminent.
+
+These great disenchanters of humanity, if indeed they had stolen away
+some of the fascinating qualities of infancy, had amply recompensed
+Venetia Herbert for the loss by the additional and commanding charms
+which they had conferred on her. From a beautiful child she had
+expanded into a most beautiful woman. She had now entirely recovered
+from her illness, of which the only visible effect was the addition
+that it had made to her stature, already slightly above the middle
+height, but of exquisite symmetry. Like her mother, she did not wear
+powder, then usual in society; but her auburn hair, of the finest
+texture, descended in long and luxuriant tresses far over her
+shoulders, braided with ribands, perfectly exposing her pellucid brow,
+here and there tinted with an undulating vein, for she had retained,
+if possible with increased lustre, the dazzling complexion of her
+infancy. If the rose upon the cheek were less vivid than of yore, the
+dimples were certainly more developed; the clear grey eye was shadowed
+by long dark lashes, and every smile and movement of those ruby lips
+revealed teeth exquisitely small and regular, and fresh and brilliant
+as pearls just plucked by a diver.
+
+Conversation proceeded and improved. Cadurcis became more easy and
+more fluent. His memory, which seemed suddenly to have returned to him
+with unusual vigour, wonderfully served him. There was scarcely an
+individual of whom he did not contrive to inquire, from Dr. Masham to
+Mistress Pauncefort; he was resolved to show that if he had neglected,
+he had at least not forgotten them. Nor did he exhibit the slightest
+indication of terminating his visit; so that Lady Annabel, aware that
+he was alone at the abbey and that he could have no engagement in the
+neighbourhood, could not refrain from inviting him to remain and dine
+with them. The invitation was accepted without hesitation. In due
+course of time Cadurcis attended the ladies in their walk; it was a
+delightful stroll in the park, though he felt some slight emotion when
+he found himself addressing Venetia by the title of 'Miss Herbert.'
+When he had exhausted all the topics of local interest, he had a great
+deal to say about himself in answer to the inquiries of Lady Annabel.
+He spoke with so much feeling and simplicity of his first days at
+Eton, and the misery he experienced on first quitting Cherbury, that
+his details could not fail of being agreeable to those whose natural
+self-esteem they so agreeably mattered. Then he dwelt upon his casual
+acquaintance with London society, and Lady Annabel was gratified to
+observe, from many incidental observations, that his principles were
+in every respect of the right tone; and that he had zealously enlisted
+himself in the ranks of that national party who opposed themselves
+to the disorganising opinions then afloat. He spoke of his impending
+residence at the university with the affectionate anticipations which
+might have been expected from a devoted child of the ancient and
+orthodox institutions of his country, and seemed perfectly impressed
+with the responsible duties for which he was destined, as an
+hereditary legislator of England. On the whole, his carriage and
+conversation afforded a delightful evidence of a pure, and earnest,
+and frank, and gifted mind, that had acquired at an early age much of
+the mature and fixed character of manhood, without losing anything
+of that boyish sincerity and simplicity too often the penalty of
+experience.
+
+The dinner passed in pleasant conversation, and if they were no longer
+familiar, they were at least cordial. Cadurcis spoke of Dr. Masham
+with affectionate respect, and mentioned his intention of visiting
+Marringhurst on the following day. He ventured to hope that Lady
+Annabel and Miss Herbert might accompany him, and it was arranged that
+his wish should be gratified. The evening drew on apace, and Lady
+Annabel was greatly pleased when Lord Cadurcis expressed his wish to
+remain for their evening prayers. He was indeed sincerely religious;
+and as he knelt in the old chapel that had been the hallowed scene
+of his boyish devotions, he offered his ardent thanksgivings to his
+Creator who had mercifully kept his soul pure and true, and allowed
+him, after so long an estrangement from the sweet spot of his
+childhood, once more to mingle his supplications with his kind and
+virtuous friends.
+
+Influenced by the solemn sounds still lingering in his ear, Cadurcis
+bade them farewell for the night, with an earnestness of manner and
+depth of feeling which he would scarcely have ventured to exhibit at
+their first meeting. 'Good night, dear Lady Annabel,' he said, as he
+pressed her hand; 'you know not how happy, how grateful I feel, to be
+once more at Cherbury. Good night, Venetia!'
+
+That last word lingered on his lips; it was uttered in a tone at once
+mournful and sweet, and her hand was unconsciously retained for a
+moment in his; but for a moment; and yet in that brief instant a
+thousand thoughts seemed to course through his brain.
+
+Before Venetia retired to rest she remained for a few minutes in her
+mother's room. 'What do you think of him, mamma?' she said; 'is he not
+very changed?'
+
+'He is, my love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'what I sometimes thought he
+might, what I always hoped he would, be.'
+
+'He really seemed happy to meet us again, and yet how strange that for
+years he should never have communicated with us.'
+
+'Not so very strange, my love! He was but a child when we parted, and
+he has felt embarrassment in resuming connections which for a long
+interval had been inevitably severed. Remember what a change his life
+had to endure; few, after such an interval, would have returned with
+feelings so kind and so pure!'
+
+'He was always a favourite of yours, mamma!'
+
+'I always fancied that I observed in him the seeds of great virtues
+and great talents; but I was not so sanguine that they would have
+flourished as they appear to have done.'
+
+In the meantime the subject of their observations strolled home
+on foot, for he had dismissed his horses, to the abbey. It was a
+brilliant night, and the white beams of the moon fell full upon the
+old monastic pile, of which massy portions were in dark shade while
+the light gracefully rested on the projecting ornaments of the
+building, and played, as it were, with the fretted and fantastic
+pinnacles. Behind were the savage hills, softened by the hour; and on
+the right extended the still and luminous lake. Cadurcis rested for
+a moment and gazed upon the fair, yet solemn scene. The dreams of
+ambition that occasionally distracted him were dead. The surrounding
+scene harmonised with the thoughts of purity, repose, and beauty that
+filled his soul. Why should he ever leave this spot, sacred to him by
+the finest emotions of his nature? Why should he not at once quit
+that world which he had just entered, while he could quit it without
+remorse? If ever there existed a being who was his own master, who
+might mould his destiny at his will, it seemed to be Cadurcis. His
+lone yet independent situation, his impetuous yet firm volition, alike
+qualified him to achieve the career most grateful to his disposition.
+Let him, then, achieve it here; here let him find that solitude he had
+ever loved, softened by that affection for which he had ever sighed,
+and which here only he had ever found. It seemed to him that there
+was only one being in the world whom he had ever loved, and that was
+Venetia Herbert: it seemed to him that there was only one thing in
+this world worth living for, and that was the enjoyment of her sweet
+heart. The pure-minded, the rare, the gracious creature! Why should
+she ever quit these immaculate bowers wherein she had been so
+mystically and delicately bred? Why should she ever quit the fond
+roof of Cherbury, but to shed grace and love amid the cloisters of
+Cadurcis? Her life hitherto had been an enchanted tale; why should
+the spell ever break? Why should she enter that world where care,
+disappointment, mortification, misery, must await her? He for a season
+had left the magic circle of her life, and perhaps it was well. He was
+a man, and so he should know all. But he had returned, thank Heaven!
+he had returned, and never again would he quit her. Fool that he had
+been ever to have neglected her! And for a reason that ought to have
+made him doubly her friend, her solace, her protector. Oh! to think of
+the sneers or the taunts of the world calling for a moment the colour
+from that bright cheek, or dusking for an instant the radiance of that
+brilliant eye! His heart ached at the thought of her unhappiness, and
+he longed to press her to it, and cherish her like some innocent dove
+that had flown from the terrors of a pursuing hawk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+'Well, Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, smiling, as he renewed his
+acquaintance with his old friend, 'I hope you have not forgotten my
+last words, and have taken care of your young lady.'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing and simpering.
+'Well to be sure, how your lordship has surprised us all! I thought we
+were never going to see you again!'
+
+'You know I told you I should return; and now I mean never to leave
+you again.'
+
+'Never is a long word, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, looking
+very archly.
+
+'Ah! but I mean to settle, regularly to settle here,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry and settle, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, still more
+arch.
+
+'And why not?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, laughing.
+
+'That is just what I said last night,' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort,
+eagerly. 'And why not? for I said, says I, his lordship must marry
+sooner or later, and the sooner the better, say I: and to be sure he
+is very young, but what of that? for, says I, no one can say he does
+not look quite a man. And really, my lord, saving your presence, you
+are grown indeed.'
+
+'Pish!' said Lord Cadurcis, turning away and laughing, 'I have left
+off growing, Pauncefort, and all those sort of things.'
+
+'You have not forgotten our last visit to Marringhurst?' said Lord
+Cadurcis to Venetia, as the comfortable mansion of the worthy Doctor
+appeared in sight.
+
+'I have forgotten nothing,' replied Venetia with a faint smile; 'I do
+not know what it is to forget. My life has been so uneventful that
+every past incident, however slight, is as fresh in my memory as if it
+occurred yesterday.'
+
+'Then you remember the strawberries and cream?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And other circumstances less agreeable,' he fancied Venetia observed,
+but her voice was low.
+
+'Do you know, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I was very
+nearly riding my pony to-day? I wish to bring back old times with the
+utmost possible completeness; I wish for a moment to believe that I
+have never quitted Cherbury.'
+
+'Let us think only of the present now,' said Lady Annabel in a
+cheerful voice, 'for it is very agreeable. I see the good Doctor; he
+has discovered us.'
+
+'I wonder whom he fancies Lord Cadurcis to be?' said Venetia.
+
+'Have you no occasional cavalier for whom at a distance I may be
+mistaken?' inquired his lordship in a tone of affected carelessness,
+though in truth it was an inquiry that he made not without anxiety.
+
+'Everything remains here exactly as you left it,' replied Lady
+Annabel, with some quickness, yet in a lively tone.
+
+'Happy Cherbury!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis. 'May it indeed never
+change!'
+
+They rode briskly on; the Doctor was standing at his gate. He saluted
+Lady Annabel and Venetia with his accustomed cordiality, and then
+stared at their companion as if waiting for an introduction.
+
+'You forget an old friend, my dear Doctor,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Dr. Masham. His lordship had by this time
+dismounted and eagerly extended his hand to his old tutor.
+
+Having quitted their horses they all entered the house, nor was there
+naturally any want of conversation. Cadurcis had much information to
+give and many questions to answer. He was in the highest spirits
+and the most amiable mood; gay, amusing, and overflowing with
+kind-heartedness. The Doctor seldom required any inspiration, to be
+joyous, and Lady Annabel was unusually animated. Venetia alone, though
+cheerful, was calmer than pleased Cadurcis. Time, he sorrowfully
+observed, had occasioned a greater change in her manner than he could
+have expected. Youthful as she still was, indeed but on the threshold
+of womanhood, and exempted, as it seemed she had been, from anything
+to disturb the clearness of her mind, that enchanting play of fancy
+which had once characterised her, and which he recalled with a sigh,
+appeared in a great degree to have deserted her. He watched her
+countenance with emotion, and, supremely beautiful as it undeniably
+was, there was a cast of thoughtfulness or suffering impressed upon
+the features which rendered him mournful he knew not why, and caused
+him to feel as if a cloud had stolen unexpectedly over the sun and
+made him shiver.
+
+But there was no time or opportunity for sad reflections; he had to
+renew his acquaintance with all the sights and curiosities of the
+rectory, to sing to the canaries, and visit the gold fish, admire the
+stuffed fox, and wonder that in the space of five years the voracious
+otter had not yet contrived to devour its prey. Then they refreshed
+themselves after their ride with a stroll in the Doctor's garden;
+Cadurcis persisted in attaching himself to Venetia, as in old days,
+and nothing would prevent him from leading her to the grotto. Lady
+Annabel walked behind, leaning on the Doctor's arm, narrating, with no
+fear of being heard, all the history of their friend's return.
+
+'I never was so surprised in my life,' said the Doctor; 'he is vastly
+improved; he is quite a man; his carriage is very finished.'
+
+'And his principles,' said Lady Annabel. 'You have no idea, my dear
+Doctor, how right his opinions seem to be on every subject. He has
+been brought up in a good school; he does his guardian great credit.
+He is quite loyal and orthodox in all his opinions; ready to risk his
+life for our blessed constitution in Church and State. He requested,
+as a favour, that he might remain at our prayers last night. It is
+delightful for me to see him turn out so well!'
+
+In the meantime Cadurcis and Venetia entered the grotto.
+
+'The dear Doctor!' said Cadurcis: 'five years have brought no visible
+change even to him; perhaps he may be a degree less agile, but I will
+not believe it. And Lady Annabel; it seems to me your mother is more
+youthful and beautiful than ever. There is a spell in our air,'
+continued his lordship, with a laughing eye; 'for if we have changed,
+Venetia, ours is, at least, an alteration that bears no sign of decay.
+We are advancing, but they have not declined; we are all enchanted.'
+
+'I feel changed,' said Venetia gravely.
+
+'I left you a child and I find you a woman,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'a
+change which who can regret?'
+
+'I would I were a child again,' said Venetia.
+
+'We were happy,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a thoughtful tone; and then in
+an inquiring voice he added, 'and so we are now?'
+
+Venetia shook her head.
+
+'Can you be unhappy?'
+
+'To be unhappy would be wicked,' said Venetia; 'but my mind has lost
+its spring.'
+
+'Ah! say not so, Venetia, or you will make even me gloomy. I am happy,
+positively happy. There must not be a cloud upon your brow.'
+
+'You are joyous,' said Venetia, 'because you are excited. It is the
+novelty of return that animates you. It will wear off; you will grow
+weary, and when you go to the university you will think yourself happy
+again.'
+
+'I do not intend to go to the university,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I understood from you that you were going there immediately.'
+
+'My plans are changed,' said Cadurcis; 'I do not intend ever to leave
+home again.'
+
+'When you go to Cambridge,' said Dr. Masham, who just then reached
+them, 'I shall trouble you with a letter to an old friend of mine
+whose acquaintance you may find valuable.'
+
+Venetia smiled; Cadurcis bowed, expressed his thanks, and muttered
+something about talking over the subject with the Doctor.
+
+After this the conversation became general, and at length they all
+returned to the house to partake of the Doctor's hospitality, who
+promised to dine at the hall on the morrow. The ride home was
+agreeable and animated, but the conversation on the part of the ladies
+was principally maintained by Lady Annabel, who seemed every moment
+more delighted with the society of Lord Cadurcis, and to sympathise
+every instant more completely with his frank exposition of his
+opinions on all subjects. When they returned to Cherbury, Cadurcis
+remained with them as a matter of course. An invitation was neither
+expected nor given. Not an allusion was made to the sports of the
+field, to enjoy which was the original purpose of his visit to the
+abbey; and he spoke of to-morrow as of a period which, as usual, was
+to be spent entirely in their society. He remained with them, as on
+the previous night, to the latest possible moment. Although reserved
+in society, no one could be more fluent with those with whom he was
+perfectly unembarrassed. He was indeed exceedingly entertaining, and
+Lady Annabel relaxed into conversation beyond her custom. As for
+Venetia, she did not speak often, but she listened with interest, and
+was evidently amused. When Cadurcis bade them good-night Lady Annabel
+begged him to breakfast with them; while Venetia, serene, though kind,
+neither seconded the invitation, nor seemed interested one way or the
+other in its result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Except returning to sleep at the abbey, Lord Cadurcis was now as much
+an habitual inmate of Cherbury Hall as in the days of his childhood.
+He was there almost with the lark, and never quitted its roof until
+its inmates were about to retire for the night. His guns and dogs,
+which had been sent down from London with so much pomp of preparation,
+were unused and unnoticed; and he passed his days in reading
+Richardson's novels, which he had brought with him from town, to the
+ladies, and then in riding with them about the country, for he loved
+to visit all his old haunts, and trace even the very green sward
+where he first met the gipsies, and fancied that he had achieved his
+emancipation from all the coming cares and annoyances of the world.
+In this pleasant life several weeks had glided away: Cadurcis had
+entirely resumed his old footing in the family, nor did he attempt to
+conceal the homage he was paying to the charms of Venetia. She indeed
+seemed utterly unconscious that such projects had entered, or indeed
+could enter, the brain of her old playfellow, with whom, now that
+she was habituated to his presence, and revived by his inspiriting
+society, she had resumed all her old familiar intimacy, addressing him
+by his Christian name, as if he had never ceased to be her brother.
+But Lady Annabel was not so blind as her daughter, and had indeed her
+vision been as clouded, her faithful minister, Mistress Pauncefort,
+would have taken care quickly to couch it; for a very short time had
+elapsed before that vigilant gentlewoman, resolved to convince her
+mistress that nothing could escape her sleepless scrutiny, and that it
+was equally in vain for her mistress to hope to possess any secrets
+without her participation, seized a convenient opportunity before she
+bid her lady good night, just to inquire 'when it might be expected to
+take place?' and in reply to the very evident astonishment which Lady
+Annabel testified at this question, and the expression of her extreme
+displeasure at any conversation on a circumstance for which there
+was not the slightest foundation, Mistress Pauncefort, after duly
+flouncing about with every possible symbol of pettish agitation and
+mortified curiosity, her cheek pale with hesitating impertinence, and
+her nose quivering with inquisitiveness, condescended to admit with a
+sceptical sneer, that, of course, no doubt her ladyship knew more of
+such a subject than she could; it was not her place to know anything
+of such business; for her part she said nothing; it was not her
+place, but if it were, she certainly must say that she could not help
+believing that my lord was looking remarkably sweet on Miss Venetia,
+and what was more, everybody in the house thought the same, though for
+her part, whenever they mentioned the circumstance to her, she said
+nothing, or bid them hold their tongues, for what was it to them; it
+was not their business, and they could know nothing; and that nothing
+would displease her ladyship more than chattering on such subjects,
+and many's the match as good as finished, that's gone off by no worse
+means than the chitter-chatter of those who should hold their tongues.
+Therefore she should say no more; but if her ladyship wished her to
+contradict it, why she could, and the sooner, perhaps, the better.
+
+Lady Annabel observed to her that she wished no such thing, but
+she desired that Pauncefort would make no more observations on the
+subject, either to her or to any one else. And then Pauncefort bade
+her ladyship good night in a huff, catching up her candle with a
+rather impertinent jerk, and gently slamming the door, as if she had
+meant to close it quietly, only it had escaped out of her fingers.
+
+Whatever might be the tone, whether of surprise or displeasure, which
+Lady Annabel thought fit to assume to her attendant on her noticing
+Lord Cadurcis' attentions to her daughter, there is no doubt that
+his conduct had early and long engaged her ladyship's remark, her
+consideration, and her approval. Without meditating indeed an
+immediate union between Cadurcis and Venetia, Lady Annabel pleased
+herself with the prospect of her daughter's eventual marriage with one
+whom she had known so early and so intimately; who was by nature of a
+gentle, sincere, and affectionate disposition, and in whom education
+had carefully instilled the most sound and laudable principles and
+opinions; one apparently with simple tastes, moderate desires, fair
+talents, a mind intelligent, if not brilliant, and passions which at
+the worst had been rather ill-regulated than violent; attached also
+to Venetia from her childhood, and always visibly affected by her
+influence. All these moral considerations seemed to offer a fair
+security for happiness; and the material ones were neither less
+promising, nor altogether disregarded by the mother. It was an union
+which would join broad lands and fair estates; which would place on
+the brow of her daughter one of the most ancient coronets in England;
+and, which indeed was the chief of these considerations, would,
+without exposing Venetia to that contaminating contact with the
+world from which Lady Annabel recoiled, establish her, without this
+initiatory and sorrowful experience, in a position superior to which
+even the blood of the Herberts, though it might flow in so fair and
+gifted a form as that of Venetia, need not aspire.
+
+Lord Cadurcis had not returned to Cherbury a week before this scheme
+entered into the head of Lady Annabel. She had always liked him; had
+always given him credit for good qualities; had always believed that
+his early defects were the consequence of his mother's injudicious
+treatment; and that at heart he was an amiable, generous, and
+trustworthy being, one who might be depended on, with a naturally good
+judgment, and substantial and sufficient talents, which only required
+cultivation. When she met him again after so long an interval, and
+found her early prognostics so fairly, so completely fulfilled, and
+watched his conduct and conversation, exhibiting alike a well-informed
+mind, an obliging temper, and, what Lady Annabel valued even above all
+gifts and blessings, a profound conviction of the truth of all her own
+opinions, moral, political, and religious, she was quite charmed; she
+was moved to unusual animation; she grew excited in his praise; his
+presence delighted her; she entertained for him the warmest affection,
+and reposed in him unbounded confidence. All her hopes became
+concentred in the wish of seeing him her son-in-law; and she detected
+with lively satisfaction the immediate impression which Venetia had
+made upon his heart; for indeed it should not be forgotten, that
+although Lady Annabel was still young, and although her frame and
+temperament were alike promising of a long life, it was natural, when
+she reflected upon the otherwise lone condition of her daughter, that
+she should tremble at the thought of quitting this world without
+leaving her child a protector. To Doctor Masham, from whom Lady
+Annabel had no secrets, she confided in time these happy but covert
+hopes, and he was not less anxious than herself for their fulfilment.
+Since the return of Cadurcis the Doctor contrived to be a more
+frequent visitor at the hall than usual, and he lost no opportunity of
+silently advancing the object of his friend.
+
+As for Cadurcis himself, it was impossible for him not quickly to
+discover that no obstacle to his heart's dearest wish would arise on
+the part of the parent. The demeanour of the daughter somewhat more
+perplexed him. Venetia indeed had entirely fallen into her old habits
+of intimacy and frankness with Plantagenet; she was as affectionate
+and as unembarrassed as in former days, and almost as gay; for his
+presence and companionship had in a great degree insensibly removed
+that stillness and gravity which had gradually influenced her mind and
+conduct. But in that conduct there was, and he observed it with some
+degree of mortification, a total absence of the consciousness of being
+the object of the passionate admiration of another. She treated Lord
+Cadurcis as a brother she much loved, who had returned to his home
+after a long absence. She liked to listen to his conversation, to hear
+of his adventures, to consult over his plans. His arrival called
+a smile to her face, and his departure for the night was always
+alleviated by some allusion to their meeting on the morrow. But many
+an ardent gaze on the part of Cadurcis, and many a phrase of emotion,
+passed unnoticed and unappreciated. His gallantry was entirely
+thrown away, or, if observed, only occasioned a pretty stare at the
+unnecessary trouble he gave himself, or the strange ceremony which
+she supposed an acquaintance with society had taught him. Cadurcis
+attributed this reception of his veiled and delicate overtures to
+her ignorance of the world; and though he sighed for as passionate
+a return to his strong feelings as the sentiments which animated
+himself, he was on the whole not displeased, but rather interested, by
+these indications of a pure and unsophisticated spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis had proposed, and Lady Annabel had seconded the proposition
+with eager satisfaction, that they should seek some day at the abbey
+whatever hospitality it might offer; Dr. Masham was to be of the
+party, which was, indeed, one of those fanciful expeditions where the
+same companions, though they meet at all times without restraint
+and with every convenience of life, seek increased amusement in the
+novelty of a slight change of habits. With the aid of the neighbouring
+town of Southport, Cadurcis had made preparations for his friends not
+entirely unworthy of them, though he affected to the last all the
+air of a conductor of a wild expedition of discovery, and laughingly
+impressed upon them the necessity of steeling their minds and bodies
+to the experience and endurance of the roughest treatment and the most
+severe hardships.
+
+The morning of this eventful day broke as beautifully as the preceding
+ones. Autumn had seldom been more gorgeous than this year. Although he
+was to play the host, Cadurcis would not deprive himself of his usual
+visit to the hall; and he appeared there at an early hour to accompany
+his guests, who were to ride over to the abbey, to husband all their
+energies for their long rambles through the demesne.
+
+Cadurcis was in high spirits, and Lady Annabel scarcely less
+joyous. Venetia smiled with her usual sweetness and serenity. They
+congratulated each other on the charming season; and Mistress
+Pauncefort received a formal invitation to join the party and go
+a-nutting with one of her fellow-servants and his lordship's valet.
+The good Doctor was rather late, but he arrived at last on his stout
+steed, in his accustomed cheerful mood. Here was a party of pleasure
+which all agreed must be pleasant; no strangers to amuse, or to be
+amusing, but formed merely of four human beings who spent every day of
+their lives in each other's society, between whom there was the most
+complete sympathy and the most cordial good-will.
+
+By noon they were all mounted on their steeds, and though the air was
+warmed by a meridian sun shining in a clear sky, there was a gentle
+breeze abroad, sweet and grateful; and moreover they soon entered the
+wood and enjoyed the shelter of its verdant shade. The abbey looked
+most picturesque when they first burst upon it; the nearer and wooded
+hills, which formed its immediate background, just tinted by the
+golden pencil of autumn, while the meads of the valley were still
+emerald green; and the stream, now lost, now winding, glittered
+here and there in the sun, and gave a life and sprightliness to the
+landscape which exceeded even the effect of the more distant and
+expansive lake.
+
+They were received at the abbey by Mistress Pauncefort, who had
+preceded them, and who welcomed them with a complacent smile. Cadurcis
+hastened to assist Lady Annabel to dismount, and was a little confused
+but very pleased when she assured him she needed no assistance but
+requested him to take care of Venetia. He was just in time to receive
+her in his arms, where she found herself without the slightest
+embarrassment. The coolness of the cloisters was grateful after their
+ride, and they lingered and looked upon the old fountain, and felt the
+freshness of its fall with satisfaction which all alike expressed.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia then retired for a while to free themselves
+from their riding habits, and Cadurcis affectionately taking the arm
+of Dr. Masham led him a few paces, and then almost involuntarily
+exclaimed, 'My dear Doctor, I think I am the happiest fellow that ever
+lived!'
+
+'That I trust you may always be, my dear boy,' said Dr. Masham; 'but
+what has called forth this particular exclamation?'
+
+'To feel that I am once more at Cadurcis; to feel that I am here once
+more with you all; to feel that I never shall leave you again.'
+
+'Not again?'
+
+'Never!' said Cadurcis. 'The experience of these last few weeks, which
+yet have seemed an age in my existence, has made me resolve never to
+quit a society where I am persuaded I may obtain a degree of happiness
+which what is called the world can never afford me.'
+
+'What will your guardian say?'
+
+'What care I?'
+
+'A dutiful ward!'
+
+'Poh! the relations between us were formed only to secure my welfare.
+It is secured; it will be secured by my own resolution.'
+
+'And what is that?' inquired Dr. Masham.
+
+'To marry Venetia, if she will accept me.'
+
+'And that you do not doubt.'
+
+'We doubt everything when everything is at stake,' replied Lord
+Cadurcis. 'I know that her consent would ensure my happiness; and when
+I reflect, I cannot help being equally persuaded that it would secure
+hers. Her mother, I think, would not be adverse to our union. And you,
+my dear sir, what do you think?'
+
+'I think,' said Dr. Masham, 'that whoever marries Venetia will marry
+the most beautiful and the most gifted of God's creatures; I hope you
+may marry her; I wish you to marry her; I believe you will marry her,
+but not yet; you are too young, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Oh, no! my dear Doctor, not too young to marry Venetia. Remember I
+have known her all my life, at least so long as I have been able to
+form an opinion. How few are the men, my dear Doctor, who are so
+fortunate as to unite themselves with women whom they have known, as I
+have known Venetia, for more than seven long years!'
+
+'During five of which you have never seen or heard of her.'
+
+'Mine was the fault! And yet I cannot help thinking, as it may
+probably turn out, as you yourself believe it will turn out, that
+it is as well that we have been separated for this interval. It has
+afforded me opportunities for observation which I should never have
+enjoyed at Cadurcis; and although my lot either way could not have
+altered the nature of things, I might have been discontented, I might
+have sighed for a world which now I do not value. It is true I have
+not seen Venetia for five years, but I find her the same, or changed
+only by nature, and fulfilling all the rich promise which her
+childhood intimated. No, my dear Doctor, I respect your opinion more
+than that of any man living; but nobody, nothing, can persuade me that
+I am not as intimately acquainted with Venetia's character, with all
+her rare virtues, as if we had never separated.'
+
+'I do not doubt it,' said the Doctor; 'high as you may pitch your
+estimate you cannot overvalue her.'
+
+'Then why should we not marry?'
+
+'Because, my dear friend, although you may be perfectly acquainted
+with Venetia, you cannot be perfectly acquainted with yourself.'
+
+'How so?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis in a tone of surprise, perhaps a
+little indignant.
+
+'Because it is impossible. No young man of eighteen ever possessed
+such precious knowledge. I esteem and admire you; I give you every
+credit for a good heart and a sound head; but it is impossible, at
+your time of life, that your character can be formed; and, until it
+be, you may marry Venetia and yet be a very miserable man.'
+
+'It is formed,' said his lordship firmly; 'there is not a subject
+important to a human being on which my opinions are not settled.'
+
+'You may live to change them all,' said the Doctor, 'and that very
+speedily.'
+
+'Impossible!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'My dear Doctor, I cannot understand
+you; you say that you hope, that you wish, even that you believe that
+I shall marry Venetia; and yet you permit me to infer that our union
+will only make us miserable. What do you wish me to do?'
+
+'Go to college for a term or two.'
+
+'Without Venetia! I should die.'
+
+'Well, if you be in a dying state you can return.'
+
+'You joke, my dear Doctor.'
+
+'My dear boy, I am perfectly serious.'
+
+'But she may marry somebody else?'
+
+'I am your only rival,' said the Doctor, with a smile; 'and though
+even friends can scarcely be trusted under such circumstances, I
+promise you not to betray you.'
+
+'Your advice is not very pleasant,' said his lordship.
+
+'Good advice seldom is,' said the Doctor.
+
+'My dear Doctor, I have made up my mind to marry her, and marry her at
+once. I know her well, you admit that yourself. I do not believe that
+there ever was a woman like her, that there ever will be a woman like
+her. Nature has marked her out from other women, and her education
+has not been less peculiar. Her mystic breeding pleases me. It
+is something to marry a wife so fair, so pure, so refined, so
+accomplished, who is, nevertheless, perfectly ignorant of the world.
+I have dreamt of such things; I have paced these old cloisters when a
+boy and when I was miserable at home, and I have had visions, and
+this was one. I have sighed to live alone with a fair spirit for my
+minister. Venetia has descended from heaven for me, and for me alone.
+I am resolved I will pluck this flower with the dew upon its leaves.'
+
+'I did not know I was reasoning with a poet,' said the Doctor, with a
+smile. 'Had I been conscious of it, I would not have been so rash.'
+
+'I have not a grain of poetry in my composition,' said his lordship;
+'I never could write a verse; I was notorious at Eton for begging all
+their old manuscripts from boys when they left school, to crib from;
+but I have a heart, and I can feel. I love Venetia, I have always
+loved her, and, if possible, I will marry her, and marry her at once.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The reappearance of the ladies at the end of the cloister terminated
+this conversation, the result of which was rather to confirm Lord
+Cadurcis in his resolution of instantly urging his suit, than the
+reverse. He ran forward to greet his friends with a smile, and took
+his place by the side of Venetia, whom, a little to her surprise, he
+congratulated in glowing phrase on her charming costume. Indeed she
+looked very captivating, with a pastoral hat, then much in fashion,
+and a dress as simple and as sylvan, both showing to admirable
+advantage her long descending hair, and her agile and springy figure.
+
+Cadurcis proposed that they should ramble over the abbey, he talked of
+projected alterations, as if he really had the power immediately to
+effect them, and was desirous of obtaining their opinions before any
+change was made. So they ascended the staircase which many years
+before Venetia had mounted for the first time with her mother, and
+entered that series of small and ill-furnished rooms in which Mrs.
+Cadurcis had principally resided, and which had undergone no change.
+The old pictures were examined; these, all agreed, never must move;
+and the new furniture, it was settled, must be in character with the
+building. Lady Annabel entered into all the details with an interest
+and animation which rather amused Dr. Masham. Venetia listened and
+suggested, and responded to the frequent appeals of Cadurcis to her
+judgment with an unconscious equanimity not less diverting.
+
+'Now here we really can do something,' said his lordship as they
+entered the saloon, or rather refectory; 'here I think we may effect
+wonders. The tapestry must always remain. Is it not magnificent,
+Venetia? But what hangings shall we have? We must keep the old chairs,
+I think. Do you approve of the old chairs, Venetia? And what shall we
+cover them with? Shall it be damask? What do you think, Venetia? Do
+you like damask? And what colour shall it be? Shall it be crimson?
+Shall it be crimson damask, Lady Annabel? Do you think Venetia would
+like crimson damask? Now, Venetia, do give us the benefit of your
+opinion.'
+
+Then they entered the old gallery; here was to be a great
+transformation. Marvels were to be effected in the old gallery,
+and many and multiplied were the appeals to the taste and fancy of
+Venetia.
+
+'I think,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I shall leave the gallery to be
+arranged when I am settled. The rooms and the saloon shall be done at
+once, I shall give orders for them to begin instantly. Whom do you
+recommend, Lady Annabel? Do you think there is any person at Southport
+who could manage to do it, superintended by our taste? Venetia, what
+do you think?'
+
+Venetia was standing at the window, rather apart from her companions,
+looking at the old garden. Lord Cadurcis joined her. 'Ah! it has been
+sadly neglected since my poor mother's time. We could not do much in
+those days, but still she loved this garden. I must depend upon you
+entirely to arrange my garden, Venetia. This spot is sacred to you.
+You have not forgotten our labours here, have you, Venetia? Ah! those
+were happy days, and these shall be more happy still. This is your
+garden; it shall always be called Venetia's garden.'
+
+'I would have taken care of it when you were away, but--'
+
+'But what?' inquired Lord Cadurcis anxiously.
+
+'We hardly felt authorised,' replied Venetia calmly. 'We came at first
+when you left Cadurcis, but at last it did not seem that our presence
+was very acceptable.'
+
+'The brutes!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'No, no; good simple people, they were unused to orders from strange
+masters, and they were perplexed. Besides, we had no right to
+interfere.'
+
+'No right to interfere! Venetia, my little fellow-labourer, no
+right to interfere! Why all is yours! Fancy your having no right to
+interfere at Cadurcis!'
+
+Then they proceeded to the park and wandered to the margin of the
+lake. There was not a spot, not an object, which did not recall
+some adventure or incident of childhood. Every moment Lord Cadurcis
+exclaimed, 'Venetia! do you remember this?' 'Venetia! have you
+forgotten that?' and every time Venetia smiled, and proved how
+faithful was her memory by adding some little unmentioned trait to the
+lively reminiscences of her companion.
+
+'Well, after all,' said Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'my poor mother was
+a strange woman, and, God bless her! used sometimes to worry me out
+of my senses! but still she always loved you. No one can deny that.
+Cherbury was a magic name with her. She loved Lady Annabel, and she
+loved you, Venetia. It ran in the blood, you see. She would be happy,
+quite happy, if she saw us all here together, and if she knew--'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Lady Annabel, 'you must build a lodge at this
+end of the park. I cannot conceive anything more effective than an
+entrance from the Southport road in this quarter.'
+
+'Certainly, Lady Annabel, certainly we must build a lodge. Do not you
+think so, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed I think it would be a great improvement,' replied Venetia;
+'but you must take care to have a lodge in character with the abbey.'
+
+'You shall make a drawing for it,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'it shall be
+built directly, and it shall be called Venetia Lodge.'
+
+The hours flew away, loitering in the park, roaming in the woods. They
+met Mistress Pauncefort and her friends loaded with plunder, and they
+offered to Venetia a trophy of their success; but when Venetia, merely
+to please their kind hearts, accepted their tribute with cordiality,
+and declared there was nothing she liked better, Lord Cadurcis would
+not be satisfied unless he immediately commenced nutting, and each
+moment he bore to Venetia the produce of his sport, till in time she
+could scarcely sustain the rich and increasing burden. At length they
+bent their steps towards home, sufficiently wearied to look forward
+with welcome to rest and their repast, yet not fatigued, and
+exhilarated by the atmosphere, for the sun was now in its decline,
+though in this favoured season there were yet hours enough remaining
+of enchanting light.
+
+In the refectory they found, to the surprise of all but their host, a
+banquet. It was just one of those occasions when nothing is
+expected and everything is welcome and surprising; when, from the
+unpremeditated air generally assumed, all preparation startles and
+pleases; when even ladies are not ashamed to eat, and formality
+appears quite banished. Game of all kinds, teal from the lake,
+and piles of beautiful fruit, made the table alike tempting and
+picturesque. Then there were stray bottles of rare wine disinterred
+from venerable cellars; and, more inspiriting even than the choice
+wine, a host under the influence of every emotion, and swayed by every
+circumstance that can make a man happy and delightful. Oh! they were
+very gay, and it seemed difficult to believe that care or sorrow,
+or the dominion of dark or ungracious passions, could ever disturb
+sympathies so complete and countenances so radiant.
+
+At the urgent request of Cadurcis, Venetia sang to them; and while she
+sang, the expression of her countenance and voice harmonising with the
+arch hilarity of the subject, Plantagenet for a moment believed that
+he beheld the little Venetia of his youth, that sunny child so full
+of mirth and grace, the very recollection of whose lively and bright
+existence might enliven the gloomiest hour and lighten the heaviest
+heart.
+
+Enchanted by all that surrounded him, full of hope, and joy, and
+plans of future felicity, emboldened by the kindness of the daughter,
+Cadurcis now ventured to urge a request to Lady Annabel, and the
+request was granted, for all seemed to feel that it was a day on which
+nothing was to be refused to their friend. Happy Cadurcis! The child
+had a holiday, and it fancied itself a man enjoying a triumph. In
+compliance, therefore, with his wish, it was settled that they should
+all walk back to the hall; even Dr. Masham declared he was competent
+to the exertion, but perhaps was half entrapped into the declaration
+by the promise of a bed at Cherbury. This consent enchanted Cadurcis,
+who looked forward with exquisite pleasure to the evening walk with
+Venetia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Although the sun had not set, it had sunk behind the hills leading
+to Cherbury when our friends quitted the abbey. Cadurcis, without
+hesitation, offered his arm to Venetia, and whether from a secret
+sympathy with his wishes, or merely from some fortunate accident, Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham strolled on before without busying themselves
+too earnestly with their companions.
+
+'And how do you think our expedition to Cadurcis has turned out?'
+inquired the young lord, of Venetia, 'Has it been successful?'
+
+'It has been one of the most agreeable days I ever passed,' was the
+reply.
+
+'Then it has been successful,' rejoined his lordship; 'for my only
+wish was to amuse you.'
+
+'I think we have all been equally amused,' said Venetia. 'I never knew
+mamma in such good spirits. I think ever since you returned she has
+been unusually light-hearted.'
+
+'And you: has my return lightened only her heart, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed it has contributed to the happiness of every one.'
+
+'And yet, when I first returned, I heard you utter a complaint; the
+first that to my knowledge ever escaped your lips.'
+
+'Ah! we cannot be always equally gay.'
+
+'Once you were, dear Venetia.'
+
+'I was a child then.'
+
+'And I, I too was a child; yet I am happy, at least now that I am with
+you.'
+
+'Well, we are both happy now.'
+
+'Oh! say that again, say that again, Venetia; for indeed you made me
+miserable when you told me that you had changed. I cannot bear that
+you, Venetia, should ever change.'
+
+'It is the course of nature, Plantagenet; we all change, everything
+changes. This day that was so bright is changing fast.'
+
+'The stars are as beautiful as the sun, Venetia.'
+
+'And what do you infer?'
+
+'That Venetia, a woman, is as beautiful as Venetia, a little girl; and
+should be as happy.'
+
+'Is beauty happiness, Plantagenet?'
+
+'It makes others happy, Venetia; and when we make others happy we
+should be happy ourselves.'
+
+'Few depend upon my influence, and I trust all of them are happy.'
+
+'No one depends upon your influence more than I do.'
+
+'Well, then, be happy always.'
+
+'Would that I might! Ah, Venetia! can I ever forget old days? You were
+the solace of my dark childhood; you were the charm that first taught
+me existence was enjoyment. Before I came to Cherbury I never was
+happy, and since that hour--Ah, Venetia! dear, dearest Venetia! who is
+like to you?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, you were always too kind to me. Would we were
+children once more!'
+
+'Nay, my own Venetia! you tell me everything changes, and we must not
+murmur at the course of nature. I would not have our childhood back
+again, even with all its joys, for there are others yet in store for
+us, not less pure, not less beautiful. We loved each other then,
+Venetia, and we love each other now.'
+
+'My feelings towards you have never changed, Plantagenet; I heard
+of you always with interest, and I met you again with heartfelt
+pleasure.'
+
+'Oh, that morning! Have you forgotten that morning? Do you know, you
+will smile very much, but I really believe that I expected to see my
+Venetia still a little girl, the very same who greeted me when I first
+arrived with my mother and behaved so naughtily! And when I saw you,
+and found what you had become, and what I ought always to have known
+you must become, I was so confused I entirely lost my presence of
+mind. You must have thought me very awkward, very stupid?'
+
+'Indeed, I was rather gratified by observing that you could not meet
+us again without emotion. I thought it told well for your heart, which
+I always believed to be most kind, at least, I am sure, to us.'
+
+'Kind! oh, Venetia! that word but ill describes what my heart ever
+was, what it now is, to you. Venetia! dearest, sweetest Venetia!
+can you doubt for a moment my feelings towards your home, and what
+influence must principally impel them? Am I so dull, or you so blind,
+Venetia? Can I not express, can you not discover how much, how
+ardently, how fondly, how devotedly, I, I, I love you?'
+
+'I am sure we always loved each other, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Yes! but not with this love; not as I love you now!'
+
+Venetia stared.
+
+'I thought we could not love each other more than we did,
+Plantagenet,' at length she said. 'Do you remember the jewel that you
+gave me? I always wore it until you seemed to forget us, and then I
+thought it looked so foolish! You remember what is inscribed on it:
+'TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.' And as a
+brother I always loved you; had I indeed been your sister I could not
+have loved you more warmly and more truly.'
+
+'I am not your brother, Venetia; I wish not to be loved as a brother:
+and yet I must be loved by you, or I shall die.'
+
+'What then do you wish?' inquired Venetia, with great simplicity.
+
+'I wish you to marry me,' replied Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry!' exclaimed Venetia, with a face of wonder. 'Marry! Marry you!
+Marry you, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Ay! is that so wonderful? I love you, and if you love me, why should
+we not marry?'
+
+Venetia was silent and looked upon the ground, not from agitation,
+for she was quite calm, but in thought; and then she said, 'I never
+thought of marriage in my life, Plantagenet; I have no intention, no
+wish to marry; I mean to live always with mamma.'
+
+'And you shall always live with mamma, but that need not prevent you
+from marrying me,' he replied. 'Do not we all live together now? What
+will it signify if you dwell at Cadurcis and Lady Annabel at Cherbury?
+Is it not one home? But at any rate, this point shall not be an
+obstacle; for if it please you we will all live at Cherbury.'
+
+'You say that we are happy now, Plantagenet; oh! let us remain as we
+are.'
+
+'My own sweet girl, my sister, if you please, any title, so it be one
+of fondness, your sweet simplicity charms me; but, believe me, it
+cannot be as you wish; we cannot remain as we are unless we marry.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because I shall be wretched and must live elsewhere, if indeed I can
+live at all.'
+
+'Oh, Plantagenet! indeed I thought you were my brother; when I found
+you after so long a separation as kind as in old days, and kinder
+still, I was so glad; I was so sure you loved me; I thought I had the
+kindest brother in the world. Let us not talk of any other love. It
+will, indeed it will, make mamma so miserable!'
+
+'I am greatly mistaken,' replied Lord Cadurcis, who saw no obstacles
+to his hopes in their conversation hitherto, 'if, on the contrary, our
+union would not prove far from disagreeable to your mother, Venetia; I
+will say our mother, for indeed to me she has been one.'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Venetia, in a very earnest tone, 'I love you
+very much; but, if you love me, press me on this subject no more at
+present. You have surprised, indeed you have bewildered me. There are
+thoughts, there are feelings, there are considerations, that must be
+respected, that must influence me. Nay! do not look so sorrowful,
+Plantagenet. Let us be happy now. To-morrow, only to-morrow, and
+to-morrow we are sure to meet, we will speak further of all this; but
+now, now, for a moment let us forget it, if we can forget anything so
+strange. Nay! you shall smile!'
+
+He did. Who could resist that mild and winning glance! And indeed Lord
+Cadurcis was scarcely disappointed, and not at all mortified at his
+reception, or, as he esteemed it, the progress of his suit. The
+conduct of Venetia he attributed entirely to her unsophisticated
+nature and the timidity of a virgin soul. It made him prize even more
+dearly the treasure that he believed awaited him. Silent, then, though
+for a time they both struggled to speak on different subjects, silent,
+and almost content, Cadurcis proceeded, with the arm of Venetia locked
+in his and ever and anon unconsciously pressing it to his heart. The
+rosy twilight had faded away, the stars were stealing forth, and the
+moon again glittered. With a soul softer than the tinted shades of eve
+and glowing like the heavens, Cadurcis joined his companions as they
+entered the gardens of Cherbury. When they had arrived at home it
+seemed that exhaustion had suddenly succeeded all the excitement
+of the day. The Doctor, who was wearied, retired immediately. Lady
+Annabel pressed Cadurcis to remain and take tea, or, at least to ride
+home; but his lordship, protesting that he was not in the slightest
+degree fatigued, and anticipating their speedy union on the morrow,
+bade her good night, and pressing with fondness the hand of Venetia,
+retraced his steps to the now solitary abbey.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Cadurcis returned to the abbey, but not to slumber. That love of
+loneliness which had haunted him from his boyhood, and which ever
+asserted its sway when under the influence of his passions, came over
+him now with irresistible power. A day of enjoyment had terminated,
+and it left him melancholy. Hour after hour he paced the moon-lit
+cloisters of his abbey, where not a sound disturbed him, save the
+monotonous fall of the fountain, that seems by some inexplicable
+association always to blend with and never to disturb our feelings;
+gay when we are joyful, and sad amid our sorrow.
+
+Yet was he sorrowful! He was gloomy, and fell into a reverie about
+himself, a subject to him ever perplexing and distressing. His
+conversation of the morning with Doctor Masham recurred to him. What
+did the Doctor mean by his character not being formed, and that
+he might yet live to change all his opinions? Character! what was
+character? It must be will; and his will was violent and firm. Young
+as he was, he had early habituated himself to reflection, and the
+result of his musings had been a desire to live away from the world
+with those he loved. The world, as other men viewed it, had no charms
+for him. Its pursuits and passions seemed to him on the whole paltry
+and faint. He could sympathise with great deeds, but not with bustling
+life. That which was common did not please him. He loved things that
+were rare and strange; and the spell that bound him so strongly to
+Venetia Herbert was her unusual life, and the singular circumstances
+of her destiny that were not unknown to him. True he was young;
+but, lord of himself, youth was associated with none of those
+mortifications which make the juvenile pant for manhood. Cadurcis
+valued his youth and treasured it. He could not conceive love, and the
+romantic life that love should lead, without the circumambient charm
+of youth adding fresh lustre to all that was bright and fair, and a
+keener relish to every combination of enjoyment. The moonbeam fell
+upon his mother's monument, a tablet on the cloister wall that
+recorded the birth and death of KATHERINE CADURCIS. His thoughts flew
+to his ancestry. They had conquered in France and Palestine, and left
+a memorable name to the annalist of his country. Those days were past,
+and yet Cadurcis felt within him the desire, perhaps the power, of
+emulating them; but what remained? What career was open in this
+mechanical age to the chivalric genius of his race? Was he misplaced
+then in life? The applause of nations, there was something grand and
+exciting in such a possession. To be the marvel of mankind what would
+he not hazard? Dreams, dreams! If his ancestors were valiant and
+celebrated it remained for him to rival, to excel them, at least in
+one respect. Their coronet had never rested on a brow fairer than
+the one for which he destined it. Venetia then, independently of his
+passionate love, was the only apparent object worth his pursuit, the
+only thing in this world that had realised his dreams, dreams sacred
+to his own musing soul, that even she had never shared or guessed. And
+she, she was to be his. He could not doubt it: but to-morrow would
+decide; to-morrow would seal his triumph.
+
+His sleep was short and restless; he had almost out-watched the stars,
+and yet he rose with the early morn. His first thought was of Venetia;
+he was impatient for the interview, the interview she promised and
+even proposed. The fresh air was grateful to him; he bounded along to
+Cherbury, and brushed the dew in his progress from the tall grass and
+shrubs. In sight of the hall, he for a moment paused. He was before
+his accustomed hour; and yet he was always too soon. Not to-day,
+though, not to-day; suddenly he rushes forward and springs down the
+green vista, for Venetia is on the terrace, and alone!
+
+Always kind, this morning she greeted him with unusual affection.
+Never had she seemed to him so exquisitely beautiful. Perhaps her
+countenance to-day was more pale than wont. There seemed a softness in
+her eyes usually so brilliant and even dazzling; the accents of her
+salutation were suppressed and tender.
+
+'I thought you would be here early,' she remarked, 'and therefore I
+rose to meet you.'
+
+Was he to infer from this artless confession that his image had
+haunted her in her dreams, or only that she would not delay the
+conversation on which his happiness depended? He could scarcely doubt
+which version to adopt when she took his arm and led him from the
+terrace to walk where they could not be disturbed.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'for indeed you are very dear to me; I
+told you last night that I would speak to you to-day on your wishes,
+that are so kind to me and so much intended for my happiness. I do not
+love suspense; but indeed last night I was too much surprised, too
+much overcome by what occurred, that exhausted as I naturally was by
+all our pleasure, I could not tell you what I wished; indeed I could
+not, dear Plantagenet.'
+
+'My own Venetia!'
+
+'So I hope you will always deem me; for I should be very unhappy if
+you did not love me, Plantagenet, more unhappy than I have even been
+these last two years; and I have been very unhappy, very unhappy
+indeed, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Unhappy, Venetia! my Venetia unhappy?'
+
+'Listen! I will not weep. I can control my feelings. I have learnt to
+do this; it is very sad, and very different to what my life once was;
+but I can do it.'
+
+'You amaze me!'
+
+Venetia sighed, and then resumed, but in a tone mournful and low, and
+yet to a degree firm.
+
+'You have been away five years, Plantagenet.'
+
+'But you have pardoned that.'
+
+'I never blamed you; I had nothing to pardon. It was well for you to
+be away; and I rejoice your absence has been so profitable to you.'
+
+'But it was wicked to have been so silent.'
+
+'Oh! no, no, no! Such ideas never entered into my head, nor even
+mamma's. You were very young; you did as all would, as all must do.
+Harbour not such thoughts. Enough, you have returned and love us yet.'
+
+'Love! adore!'
+
+'Five years are a long space of time, Plantagenet. Events will happen
+in five years, even at Cherbury. I told you I was changed.'
+
+'Yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, in a voice of some anxiety, with a
+scrutinising eye.
+
+'You left me a happy child; you find me a woman, and a miserable one.'
+
+'Good God, Venetia! this suspense is awful. Be brief, I pray you. Has
+any one--'
+
+Venetia looked at him with an air of perplexity. She could not
+comprehend the idea that impelled his interruption.
+
+'Go on,' Lord Cadurcis added, after a short pause; 'I am indeed all
+anxiety.'
+
+'You remember that Christmas which you passed at the hall and walking
+at night in the gallery, and--'
+
+'Well! Your mother, I shall never forget it.'
+
+'You found her weeping when you were once at Marringhurst. You told me
+of it.'
+
+'Ay, ay!'
+
+'There is a wing of our house shut up. We often talked of it.'
+
+'Often, Venetia; it was a mystery.'
+
+'I have penetrated it,' replied Venetia in a solemn tone; 'and never
+have I known what happiness is since.'
+
+'Yes, yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, very pale, and in a whisper.
+
+'Plantagenet, I have a father.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis started, and for an instant his arm quitted Venetia's.
+At length he said in a gloomy voice, 'I know it.'
+
+'Know it!' exclaimed Venetia with astonishment. 'Who could have told
+you the secret?'
+
+'It is no secret,' replied Cadurcis; 'would that it were!'
+
+'Would that it were! How strange you speak, how strange you look,
+Plantagenet! If it be no secret that I have a father, why this
+concealment then? I know that I am not the child of shame!' she added,
+after a moment's pause, with an air of pride. A tear stole down the
+cheek of Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet! dear, good Plantagenet! my brother! my own brother! see,
+I kneel to you; Venetia kneels to you! your own Venetia! Venetia that
+you love! Oh! if you knew the load that is on my spirit bearing me
+down to a grave which I would almost welcome, you would speak to me;
+you would tell me all. I have sighed for this; I have longed for this;
+I have prayed for this. To meet some one who would speak to me of my
+father; who had heard of him, who knew him; has been for years the
+only thought of my being, the only object for which I existed. And
+now, here comes Plantagenet, my brother! my own brother! and he knows
+all, and he will tell me; yes, that he will; he will tell his Venetia
+all, all!'
+
+'Is there not your mother?' said Lord Cadurcis, in a broken tone.
+
+'Forbidden, utterly forbidden. If I speak, they tell me her heart will
+break; and therefore mine is breaking.'
+
+'Have you no friend?'
+
+'Are not you my friend?'
+
+'Doctor Masham?'
+
+'I have applied to him; he tells me that he lives, and then he shakes
+his head.'
+
+'You never saw your father; think not of him.'
+
+'Not think of him!' exclaimed Venetia, with extraordinary energy. 'Of
+what else? For what do I live but to think of him? What object have I
+in life but to see him? I have seen him, once.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'I know his form by heart, and yet it was but a shade. Oh, what a
+shade! what a glorious, what an immortal shade! If gods were upon
+earth they would be like my father!'
+
+'His deeds, at least, are not godlike,' observed Lord Cadurcis dryly,
+and with some bitterness.
+
+'I deny it!' said Venetia, her eyes sparkling with fire, her form
+dilated with enthusiasm, and involuntarily withdrawing her arm from
+her companion. Lord Cadurcis looked exceedingly astonished.
+
+'You deny it!' he exclaimed. 'And what should you know about it?'
+
+'Nature whispers to me that nothing but what is grand and noble could
+be breathed by those lips, or fulfilled by that form.'
+
+'I am glad you have not read his works,' said Lord Cadurcis, with
+increased bitterness. 'As for his conduct, your mother is a living
+evidence of his honour, his generosity, and his virtue.'
+
+'My mother!' said Venetia, in a softened voice; 'and yet he loved my
+mother!'
+
+'She was his victim, as a thousand others may have been.'
+
+'She is his wife!' replied Venetia, with some anxiety.
+
+'Yes, a deserted wife; is that preferable to being a cherished
+mistress? More honourable, but scarcely less humiliating.'
+
+'She must have misunderstood him,' said Venetia. 'I have perused the
+secret vows of his passion. I have read his praises of her beauty.
+I have pored over the music of his emotions when he first became a
+father; yes, he has gazed on me, even though but for a moment, with
+love! Over me he has breathed forth the hallowed blessing of a parent!
+That transcendent form has pressed his lips to mine, and held me with
+fondness to his heart! And shall I credit aught to his dishonour? Is
+there a being in existence who can persuade me he is heartless or
+abandoned? No! I love him! I adore him! I am devoted to him with all
+the energies of my being! I live only on the memory that he lives,
+and, were he to die, I should pray to my God that I might join him
+without delay in a world where it cannot be justice to separate a
+child from a father.'
+
+And this was Venetia! the fair, the serene Venetia! the young, the
+inexperienced Venetia! pausing, as it were, on the parting threshold
+of girlhood, whom, but a few hours since, he had fancied could
+scarcely have proved a passion; who appeared to him barely to
+comprehend the meaning of his advances; for whose calmness or whose
+coldness he had consoled himself by the flattering conviction of her
+unknowing innocence. Before him stood a beautiful and inspired Moenad,
+her eye flashing supernatural fire, her form elevated above her
+accustomed stature, defiance on her swelling brow, and passion on her
+quivering lip!
+
+Gentle and sensitive as Cadurcis ever appeared to those he loved,
+there was in his soul a deep and unfathomed well of passions that had
+been never stirred, and a bitter and mocking spirit in his brain, of
+which he was himself unconscious. He had repaired this hopeful morn to
+Cherbury to receive, as he believed, the plighted faith of a simple
+and affectionate, perhaps grateful, girl. That her unsophisticated and
+untutored spirit might not receive the advances of his heart with an
+equal and corresponding ardour, he was prepared. It pleased him
+that he should watch the gradual development of this bud of sweet
+affections, waiting, with proud anxiety, her fragrant and her
+full-blown love. But now it appeared that her coldness or her
+indifference might be ascribed to any other cause than the one to
+which he had attributed it, the innocence of an inexperienced mind.
+This girl was no stranger to powerful passions; she could love, and
+love with fervency, with devotion, with enthusiasm. This child of joy
+was a woman of deep and thoughtful sorrows, brooding in solitude over
+high resolves and passionate aspirations. Why were not the emotions
+of such a tumultuous soul excited by himself? To him she was calm and
+imperturbable; she called him brother, she treated him as a child. But
+a picture, a fantastic shade, could raise in her a tempestuous swell
+of sentiment that transformed her whole mind, and changed the colour
+of all her hopes and thoughts. Deeply prejudiced against her father,
+Cadurcis now hated him, and with a fell and ferocious earnestness that
+few bosoms but his could prove. Pale with rage, he ground his teeth
+and watched her with a glance of sarcastic aversion.
+
+'You led me here to listen to a communication which interested me,' he
+at length said. 'Have I heard it?'
+
+His altered tone, the air of haughtiness which he assumed, were
+not lost upon Venetia. She endeavoured to collect herself, but she
+hesitated to reply.
+
+'I repeat my inquiry,' said Cadurcis. 'Have you brought me here only
+to inform me that you have a father, and that you adore him, or his
+picture?'
+
+'I led you here,' replied Venetia, in a subdued tone, and looking on
+the ground, 'to thank you for your love, and to confess to you that I
+love another.'
+
+'Love another!' exclaimed Cadurcis, in a tone of derision. Simpleton!
+The best thing your mother can do is to lock you up in the chamber
+with the picture that has produced such marvellous effects.'
+
+'I am no simpleton, Plantagenet,' rejoined Venetia, quietly, 'but one
+who is acting as she thinks right; and not only as her mind, but as
+her heart prompts her.'
+
+They had stopped in the earlier part of this conversation on a little
+plot of turf surrounded by shrubs; Cadurcis walked up and down this
+area with angry steps, occasionally glancing at Venetia with a look of
+mortification and displeasure.
+
+'I tell you, Venetia,' he at length said, 'that you are a little fool.
+What do you mean by saying that you cannot marry me because you love
+another? Is not that other, by your own account, your father? Love him
+as much as you like. Is that to prevent you from loving your husband
+also?'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are rude, and unnecessarily so,' said Venetia. 'I
+repeat to you again, and for the last time, that all my heart is my
+father's. It would be wicked in me to marry you, because I cannot love
+you as a husband should be loved. I can never love you as I love my
+father. However, it is useless to talk upon this subject. I have not
+even the power of marrying you if I wished, for I have dedicated
+myself to my father in the name of God; and I have offered a vow, to
+be registered in heaven, that thenceforth I would exist only for the
+purpose of being restored to his heart.'
+
+'I congratulate you on your parent, Miss Herbert.'
+
+'I feel that I ought to be proud of him, though, alas I can only feel
+it. But, whatever your opinion may be of my father, I beg you to
+remember that you are speaking to his child.'
+
+'I shall state my opinion respecting your father, madam, with the most
+perfect unreserve, wherever and whenever I choose; quite convinced
+that, however you esteem that opinion, it will not be widely different
+from the real sentiments of the only parent whom you ought to respect,
+and whom you are bound to obey.'
+
+'And I can tell you, sir, that whatever your opinion is on any subject
+it will never influence mine. If, indeed, I were the mistress of my
+own destiny, which I am not, it would have been equally out of my
+power to have acted as you have so singularly proposed. I do not wish
+to marry, and marry I never will; but were it in my power, or in
+accordance with my wish, to unite my fate for ever with another's, it
+should at least be with one to whom I could look up with reverence,
+and even with admiration. He should be at least a man, and a great
+man; one with whose name the world rung; perhaps, like my father, a
+genius and a poet.'
+
+'A genius and a poet!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, in a fury, stamping
+with passion; 'are these fit terms to use when speaking of the most
+abandoned profligate of his age? A man whose name is synonymous with
+infamy, and which no one dares to breathe in civilised life; whose
+very blood is pollution, as you will some day feel; who has violated
+every tie, and derided every principle, by which society is
+maintained; whose life is a living illustration of his own shameless
+doctrines; who is, at the same time, a traitor to his king and an
+apostate from his God!'
+
+Curiosity, overpowering even indignation, had permitted Venetia to
+listen even to this tirade. Pale as her companion, but with a glance
+of withering scorn, she exclaimed, 'Passionate and ill-mannered boy!
+words cannot express the disgust and the contempt with which you
+inspire me.' She spoke and she disappeared. Cadurcis was neither able
+nor desirous to arrest her flight. He remained rooted to the ground,
+muttering to himself the word 'boy!' Suddenly raising his arm and
+looking up to the sky, he exclaimed, 'The illusion is vanished!
+Farewell, Cherbury! farewell, Cadurcis! a wider theatre awaits me! I
+have been too long the slave of soft affections! I root them out of my
+heart for ever!' and, fitting the action to the phrase, it seemed that
+he hurled upon the earth all the tender emotions of his soul. 'Woman!
+henceforth you shall be my sport! I have now no feeling but for
+myself. When she spoke I might have been a boy; I am a boy no longer.
+What I shall do I know not; but this I know, the world shall ring with
+my name; I will be a man, and a great man!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The agitation of Venetia on her return was not unnoticed by her
+mother; but Lady Annabel ascribed it to a far different cause than the
+real one. She was rather surprised when the breakfast passed, and Lord
+Cadurcis did not appear; somewhat perplexed when her daughter seized
+the earliest opportunity of retiring to her own chamber; but, with
+that self-restraint of which she was so complete a mistress, Lady
+Annabel uttered no remark.
+
+Once more alone, Venetia could only repeat to herself the wild words
+that had burst from Plantagenet's lips in reference to her father.
+What could they mean? His morals might be misrepresented, his opinions
+might be misunderstood; stupidity might not comprehend his doctrines,
+malignity might torture them; the purest sages have been accused
+of immorality, the most pious philosophers have been denounced as
+blasphemous: but, 'a traitor to his king,' that was a tangible, an
+intelligible proposition, one with which all might grapple, which
+could be easily disproved if false, scarcely propounded were it
+not true. 'False to his God!' How false? Where? When? What mystery
+involved her life? Unhappy girl! in vain she struggled with the
+overwhelming burden of her sorrows. Now she regretted that she had
+quarrelled with Cadurcis; it was evident that he knew everything and
+would have told her all. And then she blamed him for his harsh and
+unfeeling demeanour, and his total want of sympathy with her cruel and
+perplexing situation. She had intended, she had struggled to be so
+kind to him; she thought she had such a plain tale to tell that he
+would have listened to it in considerate silence, and bowed to her
+necessary and inevitable decision without a murmur. Amid all these
+harassing emotions her mind tossed about like a ship without a rudder,
+until, in her despair, she almost resolved to confess everything to
+her mother, and to request her to soothe and enlighten her agitated
+and confounded mind. But what hope was there of solace or information
+from such a quarter? Lady Annabel's was not a mind to be diverted from
+her purpose. Whatever might have been the conduct of her husband, it
+was evident that Lady Annabel had traced out a course from which she
+had resolved not to depart. She remembered the earnest and repeated
+advice of Dr. Masham, that virtuous and intelligent man who never
+advised anything but for their benefit. How solemnly had he enjoined
+upon her never to speak to her mother upon the subject, unless she
+wished to produce misery and distress! And what could her mother tell
+her? Her father lived, he had abandoned her, he was looked upon as a
+criminal, and shunned by the society whose laws and prejudices he had
+alike outraged. Why should she revive, amid the comparative happiness
+and serenity in which her mother now lived, the bitter recollection of
+the almost intolerable misfortune of her existence? No! Venetia was
+resolved to be a solitary victim. In spite of her passionate and
+romantic devotion to her father she loved her mother with perfect
+affection, the mother who had dedicated her life to her child, and at
+least hoped she had spared her any share in their common unhappiness.
+And this father, whoso image haunted her dreams, whose unknown voice
+seemed sometimes to float to her quick ear upon the wind, could he be
+that abandoned being that Cadurcis had described, and that all around
+her, and all the circumstances of her life, would seem to indicate?
+Alas! it might be truth; alas! it seemed like truth: and for one so
+lost, so utterly irredeemable, was she to murmur against that pure
+and benevolent parent who had cherished her with such devotion, and
+snatched her perhaps from disgrace, dishonour, and despair!
+
+And Cadurcis, would he return? With all his violence, the kind
+Cadurcis! Never did she need a brother more than now; and now he was
+absent, and she had parted with him in anger, deep, almost deadly:
+she, too, who had never before uttered a harsh word to a human being,
+who had been involved in only one quarrel in her life, and that almost
+unconsciously, and which had nearly broken her heart. She wept,
+bitterly she wept, this poor Venetia!
+
+By one of those mental efforts which her strange lot often forced her
+to practise, Venetia at length composed herself, and returned to the
+room where she believed she would meet her mother, and hoped she
+should see Cadurcis. He was not there: but Lady Annabel was seated as
+calm and busied as usual; the Doctor had departed. Even his presence
+would have proved a relief, however slight, to Venetia, who dreaded at
+this moment to be alone with her mother. She had no cause, however,
+for alarm; Lord Cadurcis never appeared, and was absent even from
+dinner; the day died away, and still he was wanting; and at length
+Venetia bade her usual good night to Lady Annabel, and received
+her usual blessing and embrace without his name having been even
+mentioned.
+
+Venetia passed a disturbed night, haunted by painful dreams, in which
+her father and Cadurcis were both mixed up, and with images of pain,
+confusion, disgrace, and misery; but the morrow, at least, did not
+prolong her suspense, for just as she had joined her mother at
+breakfast, Mistress Pauncefort, who had been despatched on some
+domestic mission by her mistress, entered with a face of wonder,
+and began as usual: 'Only think, my lady; well to be sure, who have
+thought it? I am quite confident, for my own part, I was quite taken
+aback when I heard it; and I could not have believed my ears, if John
+had not told me himself, and he had it from his lordship's own man.'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, what have you to say?' inquired Lady Annabel, very
+calmly.
+
+'And never to send no note, my lady; at least I have not seen one come
+up. That makes it so very strange.'
+
+'Makes what, Pauncefort?'
+
+'Why, my lady, doesn't your la'ship know his lordship left the abbey
+yesterday, and never said nothing to nobody; rode off without a word,
+by your leave or with your leave? To be sure he always was the oddest
+young gentleman as ever I met with; and, as I said to John: John, says
+I, I hope his lordship has not gone to join the gipsies again.'
+
+Venetia looked into a teacup, and then touched an egg, and then
+twirled a spoon; but Lady Annabel seemed quite imperturbable, and only
+observed, 'Probably his guardian is ill, and he has been suddenly
+summoned to town. I wish you would bring my knitting-needles,
+Pauncefort.'
+
+The autumn passed, and Lord Cadurcis never returned to the abbey,
+and never wrote to any of his late companions. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned his name; and although she seemed to have no other object in
+life but the pleasure and happiness of her child, this strange mother
+never once consulted Venetia on the probable occasion of his sudden
+departure, and his strange conduct.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Party feeling, perhaps, never ran higher in England than during the
+period immediately subsequent to the expulsion of the Coalition
+Ministry. After the indefatigable faction of the American war, and the
+flagrant union with Lord North, the Whig party, and especially Charles
+Fox, then in the full vigour of his bold and ready mind, were stung to
+the quick that all their remorseless efforts to obtain and preserve
+the government of the country should terminate in the preferment and
+apparent permanent power of a mere boy.
+
+Next to Charles Fox, perhaps the most eminent and influential member
+of the Whig party was Lady Monteagle. The daughter of one of the
+oldest and most powerful peers in the kingdom, possessing lively
+talents and many fascinating accomplishments, the mistress of a great
+establishment, very beautiful, and, although she had been married
+some years, still young, the celebrated wife of Lord Monteagle found
+herself the centre of a circle alike powerful, brilliant, and refined.
+She was the Muse of the Whig party, at whose shrine every man of wit
+and fashion was proud to offer his flattering incense; and her house
+became not merely the favourite scene of their social pleasures, but
+the sacred, temple of their political rites; here many a manoeuvre was
+planned, and many a scheme suggested; many a convert enrolled, and
+many a votary initiated.
+
+Reclining on a couch in a boudoir, which she was assured was the exact
+facsimile of that of Marie Antoinette, Lady Monteagle, with an eye
+sparkling with excitement and a cheek flushed with emotion, appeared
+deeply interested in a volume, from which she raised her hand as her
+husband entered the room.
+
+'Gertrude, my love,' said his lordship, 'I have asked the new bishop
+to dine with us to-day.'
+
+'My dear Henry,' replied her ladyship, 'what could induce you to do
+anything so strange?'
+
+'I suppose I have made a mistake, as usual,' said his lordship,
+shrugging his shoulders, with a smile.
+
+'My dear Henry, you know you may ask whomever you like to your house.
+I never find fault with what you do. But what could induce you to ask
+a Tory bishop to meet a dozen of our own people?'
+
+'I thought I had done wrong directly I had asked him,' rejoined his
+lordship; 'and yet he would not have come if I had not made such a
+point of it. I think I will put him off.'
+
+'No, my love, that would be wrong; you cannot do that.'
+
+'I cannot think how it came into my head. The fact is, I lost my
+presence of mind. You know he was my tutor at Christchurch, when poor
+dear Herbert and I were such friends, and very kind he was to us both;
+and so, the moment I saw him, I walked across the House, introduced
+myself, and asked him to dinner.'
+
+'Well, never mind,' said Lady Monteagle, smiling. 'It is rather
+ridiculous: but I hope nothing will be said to offend him.'
+
+'Oh! do not be alarmed about that: he is quite a man of the world,
+and, although he has his opinions, not at all a partisan. I assure you
+poor dear Herbert loved him to the last, and to this very moment has
+the greatest respect and affection for him.'
+
+'How very strange that not only your tutor, but Herbert's, should be a
+bishop,' remarked the lady, smiling.
+
+'It is very strange,' said his lordship, 'and it only shows that it is
+quite useless in this world to lay plans, or reckon on anything. You
+know how it happened?'
+
+'Not I, indeed; I have never given a thought to the business; I only
+remember being very vexed that that stupid old Bangerford should not
+have died when we were in office, and then, at any rate, we should
+have got another vote.'
+
+'Well, you know,' said his lordship, 'dear old Masham, that is his
+name, was at Weymouth this year; with whom do you think, of all people
+in the world?'
+
+'How should I know? Why should I think about it, Henry?'
+
+'Why, with Herbert's wife.'
+
+'What, that horrid woman?'
+
+'Yes, Lady Annabel.'
+
+'And where was his daughter? Was she there?'
+
+'Of course. She has grown up, and a most beautiful creature they say
+she is; exactly like her father.'
+
+'Ah! I shall always regret I never saw him,' said her ladyship.
+
+'Well, the daughter is in bad health; and so, after keeping her shut
+up all her life, the mother was obliged to take her to Weymouth; and
+Masham, who has a living in their neighbourhood, which, by-the-bye,
+Herbert gave him, and is their chaplain and counsellor, and friend of
+the family, and all that sort of thing, though I really believe he has
+always acted for the best, he was with them. Well, the King took the
+greatest fancy to these Herberts; and the Queen, too, quite singled
+them out; and, in short, they were always with the royal family. It
+ended by his Majesty making Masham his chaplain; and now he has made
+him a bishop.'
+
+'Very droll indeed,' said her ladyship; 'and the drollest thing of all
+is, that he is now coming to dine here.'
+
+'Have you seen Cadurcis to-day?' said Lord Monteagle.
+
+'Of course,' said her ladyship.
+
+'He dines here?'
+
+'To be sure. I am reading his new poem; it will not be published till
+to-morrow.'
+
+'Is it good?'
+
+'Good! What crude questions you do always ask, Henry!' exclaimed Lady
+Monteagle. 'Good! Of course it is good. It is something better than
+good.'
+
+'But I mean is it as good as his other things? Will it make as much
+noise as his last thing?'
+
+'Thing! Now, Henry, you know very well that if there be anything I
+dislike in the world, it is calling a poem a thing.'
+
+'Well, my dear, you know I am no judge of poetry. But if you are
+pleased, I am quite content. There is a knock. Some of your friends.
+I am off. I say, Gertrude, be kind to old Masham, that is a dear
+creature!'
+
+Her ladyship extended her hand, to which his lordship pressed his
+lips, and just effected his escape as the servant announced a visitor,
+in the person of Mr. Horace Pole.
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole, I am quite exhausted,' said her ladyship; 'I am
+reading Cadurcis' new poem; it will not he published till to-morrow,
+and it really has destroyed my nerves. I have got people to dinner
+to-day, and I am sure I shall not be able to encounter them.'
+
+'Something outrageous, I suppose,' said Mr. Pole, with a sneer. 'I
+wish Cadurcis would study Pope.'
+
+'Study Pope! My dear Mr. Pole, you have no imagination.'
+
+'No, I have not, thank Heaven!' drawled out Mr. Pole.
+
+'Well, do not let us have a quarrel about Cadurcis,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'All you men are jealous of him.'
+
+'And some of you women, I think, too,' said Mr. Pole.
+
+Lady Monteagle faintly smiled.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' she exclaimed; 'he has a very hard life of it. He
+complains bitterly that so many women are in love with him. But then
+he is such an interesting creature, what can he expect?'
+
+'Interesting!' exclaimed Mr. Pole. 'Now I hold he is the most
+conceited, affected fellow that I ever met,' he continued with unusual
+energy.
+
+'Ah! you men do not understand him,' said Lady Monteagle, shaking her
+head. 'You cannot,' she added, with a look of pity.
+
+'I cannot, certainly,' said Mr. Pole, 'or his writings either. For my
+part I think the town has gone mad.'
+
+'Well, you must confess,' said her ladyship, with a glance of triumph,
+'that it was very lucky for us that I made him a Whig.'
+
+'I cannot agree with you at all on that head,' said Mr. Pole. 'We
+certainly are not very popular at this moment, and I feel convinced
+that a connection with a person who attracts so much notice as
+Cadurcis unfortunately does, and whose opinions on morals and religion
+must be so offensive to the vast majority of the English public, must
+ultimately prove anything but advantageous to our party.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole,' said her ladyship, in a tone of affected
+deprecation, 'think what a genius he is!'
+
+'We have very different ideas of genius, Lady Monteagle, I suspect,'
+said her visitor.
+
+'You cannot deny,' replied her ladyship, rising from her recumbent
+posture, with some animation, 'that he is a poet?'
+
+'It is difficult to decide upon our contemporaries,' said Mr. Pole
+dryly.
+
+'Charles Fox thinks he is the greatest poet that ever existed,' said
+her ladyship, as if she were determined to settle the question.
+
+'Because he has written a lampoon on the royal family,' rejoined Mr.
+Pole.
+
+'You are a very provoking person,' said Lady Monteagle; 'but you do
+not provoke me; do not flatter yourself you do.'
+
+'That I feel to be an achievement alike beyond my power and my
+ambition,' replied Mr. Pole, slightly bowing, but with a sneer.
+
+'Well, read this,' said Lady Monteagle, 'and then decide upon the
+merits of Cadurcis.'
+
+Mr. Pole took the extended volume, but with no great willingness, and
+turned over a page or two and read a passage here and there.
+
+'Much the same as his last effusion, I think' he observed, as far as
+I can judge from so cursory a review. Exaggerated passion, bombastic
+language, egotism to excess, and, which perhaps is the only portion
+that is genuine, mixed with common-place scepticism and impossible
+morals, and a sort of vague, dreamy philosophy, which, if it mean
+anything, means atheism, borrowed from his idol, Herbert, and which he
+himself evidently does not comprehend.'
+
+'Monster!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, with a mock assumption of
+indignation, 'and you are going to dine with him here to-day. You do
+not deserve it.'
+
+'It is a reward which is unfortunately too often obtained by me,'
+replied Mr. Pole. 'One of the most annoying consequences of your
+friend's popularity, Lady Monteagle, is that there is not a dinner
+party where one can escape him. I met him yesterday at Fanshawe's. He
+amused himself by eating only biscuits, and calling for soda water,
+while we quaffed our Burgundy. How very original! What a thing it is
+to be a great poet!'
+
+'Perverse, provoking mortal!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'And on what
+should a poet live? On coarse food, like you coarse mortals? Cadurcis
+is all spirit, and in my opinion his diet only makes him more
+interesting.'
+
+'I understand,' said Mr. Pole, 'that he cannot endure a woman to eat
+at all. But you are all spirit, Lady Monteagle, and therefore of
+course are not in the least inconvenienced. By-the-bye, do you mean to
+give us any of those charming little suppers this season?'
+
+'I shall not invite you,' replied her ladyship; 'none but admirers of
+Lord Cadurcis enter this house.'
+
+'Your menace effects my instant conversion,' replied Mr. Pole. 'I will
+admire him as much as you desire, only do not insist upon my reading
+his works.'
+
+'I have not the slightest doubt you know them by heart,' rejoined her
+ladyship.
+
+Mr. Pole smiled, bowed, and disappeared; and Lady Monteagle sat down
+to write a billet to Lord Cadurcis, to entreat him to be with her at
+five o'clock, which was at least half an hour before the other guests
+were expected. The Monteagles were considered to dine ridiculously
+late.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Marmion Herbert, sprung from one of the most illustrious families in
+England, became at an early age the inheritor of a great estate, to
+which, however, he did not succeed with the prejudices or opinions
+usually imbibed or professed by the class to which he belonged. While
+yet a boy, Marmion Herbert afforded many indications of possessing a
+mind alike visionary and inquisitive, and both, although not in an
+equal degree, sceptical and creative. Nature had gifted him with
+precocious talents; and with a temperament essentially poetic, he
+was nevertheless a great student. His early reading, originally by
+accident and afterwards by an irresistible inclination, had fallen
+among the works of the English freethinkers: with all their errors,
+a profound and vigorous race, and much superior to the French
+philosophers, who were after all only their pupils and their
+imitators. While his juvenile studies, and in some degree the
+predisposition of his mind, had thus prepared him to doubt and finally
+to challenge the propriety of all that was established and received,
+the poetical and stronger bias of his mind enabled him quickly to
+supply the place of everything he would remove and destroy; and, far
+from being the victim of those frigid and indifferent feelings
+which must ever be the portion of the mere doubter, Herbert, on the
+contrary, looked forward with ardent and sanguine enthusiasm to a
+glorious and ameliorating future, which should amply compensate and
+console a misguided and unhappy race for the miserable past and
+the painful and dreary present. To those, therefore, who could not
+sympathise with his views, it will be seen that Herbert, in attempting
+to fulfil them, became not merely passively noxious from his example,
+but actively mischievous from his exertions. A mere sceptic, he would
+have been perhaps merely pitied; a sceptic with a peculiar faith of
+his own, which he was resolved to promulgate, Herbert became odious. A
+solitary votary of obnoxious opinions, Herbert would have been looked
+upon only as a madman; but the moment he attempted to make proselytes
+he rose into a conspirator against society.
+
+Young, irresistibly prepossessing in his appearance, with great
+eloquence, crude but considerable knowledge, an ardent imagination
+and a subtle mind, and a generous and passionate soul, under any
+circumstances he must have obtained and exercised influence, even if
+his Creator had not also bestowed upon him a spirit of indomitable
+courage; but these great gifts of nature being combined with accidents
+of fortune scarcely less qualified to move mankind, high rank, vast
+wealth, and a name of traditionary glory, it will not be esteemed
+surprising that Marmion Herbert, at an early period, should have
+attracted around him many enthusiastic disciples.
+
+At Christchurch, whither he repaired at an unusually early age,
+his tutor was Doctor Masham; and the profound respect and singular
+affection with which that able, learned, and amiable man early
+inspired his pupil, for a time controlled the spirit of Herbert; or
+rather confined its workings to so limited a sphere that the results
+were neither dangerous to society nor himself. Perfectly comprehending
+and appreciating the genius of the youth entrusted to his charge,
+deeply interested in his spiritual as well as worldly welfare, and
+strongly impressed with the importance of enlisting his pupil's
+energies in favour of that existing order, both moral and religious,
+in the truth and indispensableness of which he was a sincere believer,
+Doctor Masham omitted no opportunity of combating the heresies of the
+young inquirer; and as the tutor, equally by talent, experience, and
+learning, was a competent champion of the great cause to which he was
+devoted, his zeal and ability for a time checked the development of
+those opinions of which he witnessed the menacing influence over
+Herbert with so much fear and anxiety. The college life of Marmion
+Herbert, therefore, passed in ceaseless controversy with his tutor;
+and as he possessed, among many other noble qualities, a high and
+philosophic sense of justice, he did not consider himself authorised,
+while a doubt remained on his own mind, actively to promulgate those
+opinions, of the propriety and necessity of which he scarcely ever
+ceased to be persuaded. To this cause it must be mainly attributed
+that Herbert was not expelled the university; for had he pursued there
+the course of which his cruder career at Eton had given promise, there
+can be little doubt that some flagrant outrage of the opinions held
+sacred in that great seat of orthodoxy would have quickly removed him
+from the salutary sphere of their control.
+
+Herbert quitted Oxford in his nineteenth year, yet inferior to
+few that he left there, even among the most eminent, in classical
+attainments, and with a mind naturally profound, practised in all the
+arts of ratiocination. His general knowledge also was considerable,
+and he was a proficient in those scientific pursuits which were then
+rare. Notwithstanding his great fortune and position, his departure
+from the university was not a signal with him for that abandonment to
+the world, and that unbounded self-enjoyment naturally so tempting to
+youth. On the contrary, Herbert shut himself up in his magnificent
+castle, devoted to solitude and study. In his splendid library he
+consulted the sages of antiquity, and conferred with them on the
+nature of existence and of the social duties; while in his laboratory
+or his dissecting-room he occasionally flattered himself he might
+discover the great secret which had perplexed generations. The
+consequence of a year passed in this severe discipline was
+unfortunately a complete recurrence to those opinions that he had
+early imbibed, and which now seemed fixed in his conviction beyond the
+hope or chance of again faltering. In politics a violent republican,
+and an advocate, certainly a disinterested one, of a complete equality
+of property and conditions, utterly objecting to the very foundation
+of our moral system, and especially a strenuous antagonist of
+marriage, which he taught himself to esteem not only as an unnatural
+tie, but as eminently unjust towards that softer sex, who had been
+so long the victims of man; discarding as a mockery the received
+revelation of the divine will; and, if no longer an atheist,
+substituting merely for such an outrageous dogma a subtle and shadowy
+Platonism; doctrines, however, which Herbert at least had acquired by
+a profound study of the works of their great founder; the pupil of
+Doctor Masham at length deemed himself qualified to enter that world
+which he was resolved to regenerate; prepared for persecution, and
+steeled even to martyrdom.
+
+But while the doctrines of the philosopher had been forming, the
+spirit of the poet had not been inactive. Loneliness, after all, the
+best of Muses, had stimulated the creative faculty of his being.
+Wandering amid his solitary woods and glades at all hours and seasons,
+the wild and beautiful apparitions of nature had appealed to a
+sympathetic soul. The stars and winds, the pensive sunset and the
+sanguine break of morn, the sweet solemnity of night, the ancient
+trees and the light and evanescent flowers, all signs and sights and
+sounds of loveliness and power, fell on a ready eye and a responsive
+ear. Gazing on the beautiful, he longed to create it. Then it was that
+the two passions which seemed to share the being of Herbert appeared
+simultaneously to assert their sway, and he resolved to call in his
+Muse to the assistance of his Philosophy.
+
+Herbert celebrated that fond world of his imagination, which he wished
+to teach men to love. In stanzas glittering with refined images, and
+resonant with subtle symphony, he called into creation that society of
+immaculate purity and unbounded enjoyment which he believed was the
+natural inheritance of unshackled man. In the hero he pictured a
+philosopher, young and gifted as himself; in the heroine, his idea of
+a perfect woman. Although all those peculiar doctrines of Herbert,
+which, undisguised, must have excited so much odium, were more or
+less developed and inculcated in this work; nevertheless they were
+necessarily so veiled by the highly spiritual and metaphorical
+language of the poet, that it required some previous acquaintance with
+the system enforced, to be able to detect and recognise the esoteric
+spirit of his Muse. The public read only the history of an ideal world
+and of creatures of exquisite beauty, told in language that alike
+dazzled their fancy and captivated their ear. They were lost in a
+delicious maze of metaphor and music, and were proud to acknowledge
+an addition to the glorious catalogue of their poets in a young and
+interesting member of their aristocracy.
+
+In the meanwhile Herbert entered that great world that had long
+expected him, and hailed his advent with triumph. How long might have
+elapsed before they were roused by the conduct of Herbert to the
+error under which they were labouring as to his character, it is
+not difficult to conjecture; but before he could commence those
+philanthropic exertions which apparently absorbed him, he encountered
+an individual who most unconsciously put his philosophy not merely to
+the test, but partially even to the rout; and this was Lady Annabel
+Sidney. Almost as new to the world as himself, and not less admired,
+her unrivalled beauty, her unusual accomplishments, and her pure and
+dignified mind, combined, it must be confessed, with the flattering
+admiration of his genius, entirely captivated the philosophical
+antagonist of marriage. It is not surprising that Marmion Herbert,
+scarcely of age, and with a heart of extreme susceptibility, resolved,
+after a struggle, to be the first exception to his system, and, as he
+faintly flattered himself, the last victim of prejudice. He wooed and
+won the Lady Annabel.
+
+The marriage ceremony was performed by Doctor Masham, who had read his
+pupil's poem, and had been a little frightened by its indications; but
+this happy union had dissipated all his fears. He would not believe in
+any other than a future career for him alike honourable and happy; and
+he trusted that if any wild thoughts still lingered in Herbert's mind,
+that they would clear off by the same literary process; so that
+the utmost ill consequences of his immature opinions might be an
+occasional line that the wise would have liked to blot, and yet which
+the unlettered might scarcely be competent to comprehend. Mr. and Lady
+Annabel Herbert departed after the ceremony to his castle, and Doctor
+Masham to Marringhurst, a valuable living in another county, to which
+his pupil had just presented him.
+
+Some months after this memorable event, rumours reached the ear of the
+good Doctor that all was not as satisfactory as he could desire in
+that establishment, in the welfare of which he naturally took so
+lively an interest. Herbert was in the habit of corresponding with the
+rector of Marringhurst, and his first letters were full of details as
+to his happy life and his perfect consent; but gradually these details
+had been considerably abridged, and the correspondence assumed chiefly
+a literary or philosophical character. Lady Annabel, however, was
+always mentioned with regard, and an intimation had been duly given
+to the Doctor that she was in a delicate and promising situation, and
+that they were both alike anxious that he should christen their child.
+It did not seem very surprising to the good Doctor, who was a man of
+the world, that a husband, six months after marriage, should not
+speak of the memorable event with all the fulness and fondness of
+the honeymoon; and, being one of those happy tempers that always
+anticipate the best, he dismissed from his mind, as vain gossip and
+idle exaggerations, the ominous whispers that occasionally reached
+him.
+
+Immediately after the Christmas ensuing his marriage, the Herberts
+returned to London, and the Doctor, who happened to be a short time
+in the metropolis, paid them a visit. His observations were far from
+unsatisfactory; it was certainly too evident that Marmion was no
+longer enamoured of Lady Annabel, but he treated her apparently with
+courtesy, and even cordiality. The presence of Dr. Masham tended,
+perhaps, a little to revive old feelings, for he was as much a
+favourite with the wife as with the husband; but, on the whole,
+the Doctor quitted them with an easy heart, and sanguine that the
+interesting and impending event would, in all probability, revive
+affection on the part of Herbert, or at least afford Lady Annabel the
+only substitute for a husband's heart.
+
+In due time the Doctor heard from Herbert that his wife had gone
+down into the country, but was sorry to observe that Herbert did not
+accompany her. Even this disagreeable impression was removed by a
+letter, shortly after received from Herbert, dated from the castle,
+and written in high spirits, informing him that Annabel had made him
+the happy father of the most beautiful little girl in the world.
+During the ensuing three months Mr. Herbert, though he resumed his
+residence in London, paid frequent visits to the castle, where Lady
+Annabel remained; and his occasional correspondence, though couched
+in a careless vein, still on the whole indicated a cheerful spirit;
+though ever and anon were sarcastic observations as to the felicity of
+the married state, which, he said, was an undoubted blessing, as it
+kept a man out of all scrapes, though unfortunately under the penalty
+of his total idleness and inutility in life. On the whole, however,
+the reader may judge of the astonishment of Doctor Masham when, in
+common with the world, very shortly after the receipt of this letter,
+Mr. Herbert having previously proceeded to London, and awaiting, as
+was said, the daily arrival of his wife and child, his former tutor
+learned that Lady Annabel, accompanied only by Pauncefort and Venetia,
+had sought her father's roof, declaring that circumstances had
+occurred which rendered it quite impossible that she could live with
+Mr. Herbert any longer, and entreating his succour and parental
+protection.
+
+Never was such a hubbub in the world! In vain Herbert claimed his
+wife, and expressed his astonishment, declaring that he had parted
+from her with the expression of perfect kind feeling on both sides.
+No answer was given to his letter, and no explanation of any kind
+conceded him. The world universally declared Lady Annabel an injured
+woman, and trusted that she would eventually have the good sense and
+kindness to gratify them by revealing the mystery; while Herbert,
+on the contrary, was universally abused and shunned, avoided by his
+acquaintances, and denounced as the most depraved of men.
+
+In this extraordinary state of affairs Herbert acted in a manner
+the best calculated to secure his happiness, and the very worst to
+preserve his character. Having ostentatiously shown himself in every
+public place, and courted notice and inquiry by every means in his
+power, to prove that he was not anxious to conceal himself or avoid
+any inquiry, he left the country, free at last to pursue that career
+to which he had always aspired, and in which he had been checked by
+a blunder, from the consequences of which he little expected that
+he should so speedily and strangely emancipate himself. It was in a
+beautiful villa on the lake of Geneva that he finally established
+himself, and there for many years he employed himself in the
+publication of a series of works which, whether they were poetry or
+prose, imaginative or investigative, all tended to the same consistent
+purpose, namely, the fearless and unqualified promulgation of those
+opinions, on the adoption of which he sincerely believed the happiness
+of mankind depended; and the opposite principles to which, in his own
+case, had been productive of so much mortification and misery.
+His works, which were published in England, were little read, and
+universally decried. The critics were always hard at work, proving
+that he was no poet, and demonstrating in the most logical manner
+that he was quite incapable of reasoning on the commonest topic. In
+addition to all this, his ignorance was self-evident; and though he
+was very fond of quoting Greek, they doubted whether he was capable of
+reading the original authors. The general impression of the English
+public, after the lapse of some years, was, that Herbert was an
+abandoned being, of profligate habits, opposed to all the institutions
+of society that kept his infamy in check, and an avowed atheist; and
+as scarcely any one but a sympathetic spirit ever read a line he
+wrote, for indeed the very sight of his works was pollution, it is not
+very wonderful that this opinion was so generally prevalent. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have suspected that abandoned profligacy is
+not very compatible with severe study, and that an author is seldom
+loose in his life, even if he be licentious in his writings. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have been of opinion that a solitary sage
+may be the antagonist of a priesthood without absolutely denying the
+existence of a God; but there never are calm inquirers. The world, on
+every subject, however unequally, is divided into parties; and even in
+the case of Herbert and his writings, those who admired his genius,
+and the generosity of his soul, were not content without advocating,
+principally out of pique to his adversaries, his extreme opinions on
+every subject, moral, political, and religious.
+
+Besides, it must be confessed, there was another circumstance which
+was almost as fatal to Herbert's character in England as his loose and
+heretical opinions. The travelling English, during their visits to
+Geneva, found out that their countryman solaced or enlivened his
+solitude by unhallowed ties. It is a habit to which very young men,
+who are separated from or deserted by their wives, occasionally have
+recourse. Wrong, no doubt, as most things are, but it is to be hoped
+venial; at least in the case of any man who is not also an atheist.
+This unfortunate mistress of Herbert was magnified into a seraglio;
+the most extraordinary tales of the voluptuous life of one who
+generally at his studies out-watched the stars, were rife in English
+society; and
+
+  Hoary marquises and stripling dukes,
+
+who were either protecting opera dancers, or, still worse, making
+love to their neighbours' wives, either looked grave when the name of
+Herbert was mentioned in female society, or affectedly confused, as if
+they could a tale unfold, were they not convinced that the sense of
+propriety among all present was infinitely superior to their sense of
+curiosity.
+
+The only person to whom Herbert communicated in England was Doctor
+Masham. He wrote to him immediately on his establishment at Geneva, in
+a calm yet sincere and serious tone, as if it were useless to dwell
+too fully on the past. Yet he declared, although now that it was all
+over he avowed his joy at the interposition of his destiny, and the
+opportunity which he at length possessed of pursuing the career for
+which he was adapted, that he had to his knowledge given his wife
+no cause of offence which could authorise her conduct. As for his
+daughter, he said he should not be so cruel as to tear her from
+her mother's breast; though, if anything could induce him to such
+behaviour, it would be the malignant and ungenerous menace of his
+wife's relatives, that they would oppose his preferred claim to
+the guardianship of his child, on the plea of his immoral life and
+atheistical opinions. With reference to pecuniary arrangements, as
+his chief seat was entailed on male heirs, he proposed that his wife
+should take up her abode at Cherbury, an estate which had been settled
+on her and her children at her marriage, and which, therefore, would
+descend to Venetia. Finally, he expressed his satisfaction that the
+neighbourhood of Marringhurst would permit his good and still faithful
+friend to cultivate the society and guard over the welfare of his wife
+and daughter.
+
+During the first ten years of Herbert's exile, for such indeed it
+might be considered, the Doctor maintained with him a rare yet regular
+correspondence; but after that time a public event occurred, and
+a revolution took place in Herbert's life which terminated all
+communication between them; a termination occasioned, however, by such
+a simultaneous conviction of its absolute necessity, that it was not
+attended by any of those painful communications which are too often
+the harrowing forerunners of a formal disruption of ancient ties.
+
+This event was the revolt of the American colonies; and this
+revolution in Herbert's career, his junction with the rebels against
+his native country. Doubtless it was not without a struggle, perhaps
+a pang, that Herbert resolved upon a line of conduct to which it
+must assuredly have required the strongest throb of his cosmopolitan
+sympathy, and his amplest definition of philanthropy to have impelled
+him. But without any vindictive feelings towards England, for he ever
+professed and exercised charity towards his enemies, attributing their
+conduct entirely to their ignorance and prejudice, upon this step he
+nevertheless felt it his duty to decide. There seemed in the opening
+prospects of America, in a world still new, which had borrowed from
+the old as it were only so much civilisation as was necessary to
+create and to maintain order; there seemed in the circumstances of its
+boundless territory, and the total absence of feudal institutions and
+prejudices, so fair a field for the practical introduction of those
+regenerating principles to which Herbert had devoted all the thought
+and labour of his life, that he resolved, after long and perhaps
+painful meditation, to sacrifice every feeling and future interest to
+its fulfilment. All idea of ever returning to his native country, even
+were it only to mix his ashes with the generations of his ancestors;
+all hope of reconciliation with his wife, or of pressing to his
+heart that daughter, often present to his tender fancy, and to whose
+affections he had feelingly appealed in an outburst of passionate
+poetry; all these chances, chances which, in spite of his philosophy,
+had yet a lingering charm, must be discarded for ever. They were
+discarded. Assigning his estate to his heir upon conditions, in order
+to prevent its forfeiture, with such resources as he could command,
+and which were considerable, Marmion Herbert arrived at Boston, where
+his rank, his wealth, his distinguished name, his great talents, and
+his undoubted zeal for the cause of liberty, procured him an eminent
+and gratifying reception. He offered to raise a regiment for the
+republic, and the offer was accepted, and he was enrolled among the
+citizens. All this occurred about the time that the Cadurcis family
+first settled at the abbey, and this narrative will probably throw
+light upon several slight incidents which heretofore may have
+attracted the perplexed attention of the reader: such as the newspaper
+brought by Dr. Masham at the Christmas visit; the tears shed at a
+subsequent period at Marringhurst, when he related to her the last
+intelligence that had been received from America. For, indeed, it is
+impossible to express the misery and mortification which this last
+conduct of her husband occasioned Lady Annabel, brought up, as she had
+been, with feelings of romantic loyalty and unswerving patriotism.
+To be a traitor seemed the only blot that remained for his sullied
+scutcheon, and she had never dreamed of that. An infidel, a
+profligate, a deserter from his home, an apostate from his God! one
+infamy alone remained, and now he had attained it; a traitor to his
+king! Why, every peasant would despise him!
+
+General Herbert, however, for such he speedily became, at the head of
+his division, soon arrested the attention, and commanded the respect,
+of Europe. To his exertions the successful result of the struggle
+was, in a great measure, attributed; and he received the thanks of
+Congress, of which he became a member. His military and political
+reputation exercised a beneficial influence upon his literary fame.
+His works were reprinted in America, and translated into French,
+and published at Geneva and Basle, whence they were surreptitiously
+introduced into France. The Whigs, who had become very factious, and
+nearly revolutionary, during the American war, suddenly became proud
+of their countryman, whom a new world hailed as a deliverer, and
+Paris declared to be a great poet and an illustrious philosopher. His
+writings became fashionable, especially among the young; numerous
+editions of them appeared, and in time it was discovered that Herbert
+was now not only openly read, and enthusiastically admired, but had
+founded a school.
+
+The struggle with America ceased about the time of Lord Cadurcis' last
+visit to Cherbury, when, from his indignant lips, Venetia first learnt
+the enormities of her father's career. Since that period some three
+years had elapsed until we introduced our readers to the boudoir
+of Lady Monteagle. During this period, among the Whigs and their
+partisans the literary fame of Herbert had arisen and become
+established. How they have passed in regard to Lady Annabel Herbert
+and her daughter, on the one hand, and Lord Cadurcis himself on the
+other, we will endeavour to ascertain in the following chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the last departure of Lord Cadurcis from Cherbury, the health of
+Venetia again declined. The truth is, she brooded in solitude over her
+strange lot, until her nerves became relaxed by intense reverie and
+suppressed feeling. The attention of a mother so wrapt up in her child
+as Lady Annabel, was soon attracted to the increasing languor of
+our heroine, whose eye each day seemed to grow less bright, and her
+graceful form less lithe and active. No longer, fond of the sun and
+breeze as a beautiful bird, was Venetia seen, as heretofore, glancing
+in the garden, or bounding over the lawns; too often might she be
+found reclining on the couch, in spite of all the temptations of the
+spring; while her temper, once so singularly sweet that it seemed
+there was not in the world a word that could ruffle it, and which
+required so keenly and responded so quickly to sympathy, became
+reserved, if not absolutely sullen, or at times even captious and
+fretful.
+
+This change in the appearance and demeanour of her daughter filled
+Lady Annabel with anxiety and alarm. In vain she expressed to Venetia
+her conviction of her indisposition; but Venetia, though her altered
+habits confirmed the suspicion, and authorised the inquiry of her
+parent, persisted ever in asserting that she had no ailment. Her old
+medical attendant was, however, consulted, and, being perplexed with
+the case, he recommended change of air. Lady Annabel then consulted
+Dr. Masham, and he gave his opinion in favour of change of air for one
+reason: and that was, that it would bring with it what he had long
+considered Venetia to stand in need of, and that was change of life.
+
+Dr. Masham was right; but then, to guide him in forming his judgment,
+he had the advantage of some psychological knowledge of the case,
+which, in a greet degree, was a sealed book to the poor puzzled
+physician. We laugh very often at the errors of medical men; but if
+we would only, when we consult them, have strength of mind enough to
+extend to them something better than a half-confidence, we might be
+cured the sooner. How often, when the unhappy disciple of Esculapius
+is perplexing himself about the state of our bodies, we might throw
+light upon his obscure labours by simply detailing to him the state of
+our minds!
+
+The result of these consultations in the Herbert family was a final
+resolution, on the part of Lady Annabel, to quit Cherbury for a while.
+As the sea air was especially recommended to Venetia, and as Lady
+Annabel shrank with a morbid apprehension from society, to which
+nothing could persuade her she was not an object either of odium or
+impertinent curiosity, she finally resolved to visit Weymouth, then a
+small and secluded watering-place, and whither she arrived and settled
+herself, it not being even the season when its few customary visitors
+were in the habit of gathering.
+
+This residence at Weymouth quite repaid Lady Annabel for all the
+trouble of her new settlement, and for the change in her life very
+painful to her confirmed habits, which she experienced in leaving for
+the first time for such a long series of years, her old hall; for the
+rose returned to the cheek of her daughter, and the western breezes,
+joined with the influence of the new objects that surrounded her, and
+especially of that ocean, and its strange and inexhaustible variety,
+on which she gazed for the first time, gradually, but surely,
+completed the restoration of Venetia to health, and with it to much of
+her old vivacity.
+
+When Lady Annabel had resided about a year at Weymouth, in the society
+of which she had invariably made the indisposition of Venetia a reason
+for not entering, a great revolution suddenly occurred at this little
+quiet watering-place, for it was fixed upon as the summer residence of
+the English court. The celebrated name, the distinguished appearance,
+and the secluded habits of Lady Annabel and her daughter, had rendered
+them the objects of general interest. Occasionally they were met in a
+seaside walk by some fellow-wanderer over the sands, or toiler over
+the shingles; and romantic reports of the dignity of the mother and
+the daughter's beauty were repeated by the fortunate observers to the
+lounging circle of the public library or the baths.
+
+The moment that Lady Annabel was assured that the royal family had
+positively fixed upon Weymouth for their residence, and were even
+daily expected, she resolved instantly to retire. Her stern sense of
+duty assured her that it was neither delicate nor loyal to obtrude
+before the presence of an outraged monarch the wife and daughter of a
+traitor; her haughty, though wounded, spirit shrank from the revival
+of her husband's history, which must be the consequence of such a
+conjunction, and from the startling and painful remarks which might
+reach the shrouded ear of her daughter. With her characteristic
+decision, and with her usual stern volition, Lady Annabel quitted
+Weymouth instantly, but she was in some degree consoled for the regret
+and apprehensiveness which she felt at thus leaving a place that had
+otherwise so happily fulfilled all her hopes and wishes, and that
+seemed to agree so entirely with Venetia, by finding unexpectedly
+a marine villa, some few miles further up the coast, which was
+untenanted, and which offered to Lady Annabel all the accommodation
+she could desire.
+
+It so happened this summer that Dr. Masham paid the Herberts a visit,
+and it was his habit occasionally to ride into Weymouth to read the
+newspaper, or pass an hour in that easy lounging chat, which is,
+perhaps, one of the principal diversions of a watering-place. A great
+dignitary of the church, who was about the King, and to whom Dr.
+Masham was known not merely by reputation, mentioned his presence to
+his Majesty; and the King, who was fond of the society of eminent
+divines, desired that Dr. Masham should be presented to him. Now, so
+favourable was the impression that the rector of Marringhurst made
+upon his sovereign, that from that moment the King was scarcely ever
+content unless he was in attendance. His Majesty, who was happy in
+asking questions, and much too acute to be baffled when he sought
+information, finally elicited from the Doctor all that, in order to
+please Lady Annabel, he long struggled to conceal; but when the King
+found that the deserted wife and daughter of Herbert were really
+living in the neighbourhood, and that they had quitted Weymouth on his
+arrival, from a feeling of delicate loyalty, nothing would satisfy the
+kind-hearted monarch but personally assuring them of the interest he
+took in their welfare; and accordingly, the next day, without giving
+Lady Annabel even the preparation of a notice, his Majesty and his
+royal consort, attended only by a lord in waiting, called at the
+marine villa, and fairly introduced themselves.
+
+An acquaintance, occasioned by a sentiment of generous and
+condescending sympathy, was established and strengthened into
+intimacy, by the personal qualities of those thus delicately honoured.
+The King and Queen were equally delighted with the wife and daughter
+of the terrible rebel; and although, of course, not an allusion was
+made to his existence, Lady Annabel felt not the less acutely the
+cause to which she was indebted for a notice so gratifying, but
+which she afterwards ensured by her own merits. How strange are the
+accidents of life! Venetia Herbert, who had been bred up in unbroken
+solitude, and whose converse had been confined to two or three beings,
+suddenly found herself the guest of a king, and the visitor to a
+court! She stepped at once from solitude into the most august circle
+of society; yet, though she had enjoyed none of that initiatory
+experience which is usually held so indispensable to the votaries
+of fashion, her happy nature qualified her to play her part without
+effort and with success. Serene and graceful, she mingled in the
+strange and novel scene, as if it had been for ever her lot to dazzle
+and to charm. Ere the royal family returned to London, they extracted
+from Lady Annabel a compliance with their earnest wishes, that
+she should fix her residence, during the ensuing season, in the
+metropolis, and that she should herself present Venetia at St.
+James's. The wishes of kings are commands; and Lady Annabel, who thus
+unexpectedly perceived some of the most painful anticipations of her
+solitude at once dissipated, and that her child, instead of being
+subjected on her entrance into life to all the mortifications she had
+imagined, would, on the contrary, find her first introduction under
+auspices the most flattering and advantageous, bowed a dutiful assent
+to the condescending injunctions.
+
+Such were the memorable consequences of this visit to Weymouth! The
+return of Lady Annabel to the world, and her intended residence in the
+metropolis, while the good Masham preceded their arrival to receive a
+mitre. Strange events, and yet not improbable!
+
+In the meantime Lord Cadurcis had repaired to the university, where
+his rank and his eccentric qualities quickly gathered round him a
+choice circle of intimates, chiefly culled from his old schoolfellows.
+Of these the great majority were his seniors, for whose society
+the maturity of his mind qualified him. It so happened that these
+companions were in general influenced by those liberal opinions which
+had become in vogue during the American war, and from which Lord
+Cadurcis had hitherto been preserved by the society in which he
+had previously mingled in the house of his guardian. With the
+characteristic caprice and impetuosity of youth, Cadurcis rapidly
+and ardently imbibed all these doctrines, captivated alike by their
+boldness and their novelty. Hitherto the child of prejudice, he
+flattered himself that he was now the creature of reason, and,
+determined to take nothing for granted, he soon learned to question
+everything that was received. A friend introduced him to the writings
+of Herbert, that very Herbert whom he had been taught to look upon
+with so much terror and odium. Their perusal operated a complete
+revolution of his mind; and, in little more than a year from his
+flight from Cherbury, he had become an enthusiastic votary of the
+great master, for his violent abuse of whom he had been banished from
+those happy bowers. The courage, the boldness, the eloquence, the
+imagination, the strange and romantic career of Herbert, carried the
+spirit of Cadurcis captive. The sympathetic companions studied his
+works and smiled with scorn at the prejudice of which their great
+model had been the victim, and of which they had been so long the
+dupes. As for Cadurcis, he resolved to emulate him, and he commenced
+his noble rivalship by a systematic neglect of all the duties and
+the studies of his college life. His irregular habits procured him
+constant reprimands in which he gloried; he revenged himself on the
+authorities by writing epigrams, and by keeping a bear, which he
+declared should stand for a fellowship. At length, having wilfully
+outraged the most important regulations, he was expelled; and he
+made his expulsion the subject of a satire equally personal and
+philosophic, and which obtained applause for the great talent which it
+displayed, even from those who lamented its want of judgment and the
+misconduct of its writer. Flushed with success, Cadurcis at length
+found, to his astonishment, that Nature had intended him for a poet.
+He repaired to London, where he was received with open arms by the
+Whigs, whose party he immediately embraced, and where he published a
+poem, in which he painted his own character as the hero, and of which,
+in spite of all the exaggeration and extravagance of youth, the genius
+was undeniable. Society sympathised with a young and a noble poet;
+his poem was read by all parties with enthusiasm; Cadurcis became the
+fashion. To use his own expression, 'One morning he awoke, and found
+himself famous.' Young, singularly handsome, with every gift of nature
+and fortune, and with an inordinate vanity that raged in his soul,
+Cadurcis soon forgot the high philosophy that had for a moment
+attracted him, and delivered himself up to the absorbing egotism which
+had ever been latent in his passionate and ambitious mind. Gifted with
+energies that few have ever equalled, and fooled to the bent by the
+excited sympathies of society, he poured forth his creative and daring
+spirit with a license that conquered all obstacles, from the very
+audacity with which he assailed them. In a word, the young, the
+reserved, and unknown Cadurcis, who, but three years back, was to have
+lived in the domestic solitude for which he alone felt himself fitted,
+filled every heart and glittered in every eye. The men envied, the
+women loved, all admired him. His life was a perpetual triumph; a
+brilliant and applauding stage, on which he ever played a dazzling and
+heroic part. So sudden and so startling had been his apparition, so
+vigorous and unceasing the efforts by which he had maintained his
+first overwhelming impression, and not merely by his writings, but by
+his unusual manners and eccentric life, that no one had yet found time
+to draw his breath, to observe, to inquire, and to criticise. He had
+risen, and still flamed, like a comet as wild as it was beautiful, and
+strange is it was brilliant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+We must now return to the dinner party at Lord Monteagle's. When the
+Bishop of ---- entered the room, he found nearly all the expected
+guests assembled, and was immediately presented by his host to the
+lady of the house, who received him with all that fascinating address
+for which she was celebrated, expressing the extreme delight which she
+felt at thus becoming formally acquainted with one whom her husband
+had long taught her to admire and reverence. Utterly unconscious who
+had just joined the circle, while Lord Monteagle was introducing his
+newly-arrived guest to many present, and to all of whom he was unknown
+except by reputation, Lord Cadurcis was standing apart, apparently
+wrapt in his own thoughts; but the truth is, in spite of all the
+excitement in which he lived, he had difficulty in overcoming the
+natural reserve of his disposition.
+
+'Watch Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole to a fine lady. 'Does not he
+look sublime?'
+
+'Show me him,' said the lady, eagerly. 'I have never seen him yet; I
+am actually dying to know him. You know we have just come to town.'
+
+'And have caught the raging epidemic, I see,' said Mr. Pole, with a
+sneer. 'However, there is the marvellous young gentleman! "Alone in a
+crowd," as he says in his last poem. Very interesting!'
+
+'Wonderful creature!' exclaimed the dame.
+
+'Charming!' said Mr. Pole. 'If you ask Lady Monteagle, she will
+introduce him to you, and then, perhaps, you will be fortunate enough
+to be handed to dinner by him.'
+
+'Oh! how I should like it!'
+
+'You must take care, however, not to eat; he cannot endure a woman who
+eats.'
+
+'I never do,' said the lady, simply; 'at least at dinner.'
+
+'Ah! then you will quite suit him; I dare say he will write a sonnet
+to you, and call you Thyrza.'
+
+'I wish I could get him to write some lines in my book, said the lady;
+'Charles Fox has written some; he was staying with us in the autumn,
+and he has written an ode to my little dog.'
+
+'How amiable!' said Mr. Pole; 'I dare say they are as good as his
+elegy on Mrs. Crewe's cat. But you must not talk of cats and dogs to
+Cadurcis. He is too exalted to commemorate any animal less sublime
+than a tiger or a barb.'
+
+'You forget his beautiful lines on his Newfoundland,' said the lady.
+
+'Very complimentary to us all,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'The interesting
+misanthrope!'
+
+'He looks unhappy.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'Evidently something on his conscience.'
+
+'They do whisper very odd things,' said the lady, with great
+curiosity. 'Do you think there is anything in them?'
+
+'Oh! no doubt,' said Mr. Pole; 'look at him; you can detect crime in
+every glance.'
+
+'Dear me, how shocking! I think he must be the most interesting person
+that ever lived. I should so like to know him! They say he is so very
+odd.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'He must be a man of genius; he is so unlike
+everybody; the very tie of his cravat proves it. And his hair, so
+savage and dishevelled; none but a man of genius would not wear
+powder. Watch him to-day, and you will observe that he will not
+condescend to perform the slightest act like an ordinary mortal. I
+met him at dinner yesterday at Fanshawe's, and he touched nothing but
+biscuits and soda-water. Fanshawe, you know, is famous for his cook.
+Complimentary and gratifying, was it not?'
+
+'Dear me!' said the lady, 'I am delighted to see him; and yet I hope I
+shall not sit by him at dinner. I am quite afraid of him.'
+
+'He is really awful!' said Mr. Pole.
+
+In the meantime the subject of these observations slowly withdrew to
+the further end of the saloon, apart from every one, and threw himself
+upon a couch with a somewhat discontented air. Lady Monteagle, whose
+eye had never left him for a moment, although her attentions had been
+necessarily commanded by her guests, and who dreaded the silent rages
+in which Cadurcis constantly indulged, and which, when once assumed
+for the day, were with difficulty dissipated, seized the first
+opportunity to join and soothe him.
+
+'Dear Cadurcis,' she said, 'why do you sit here? You know I am obliged
+to speak to all these odious people, and it is very cruel of you.'
+
+'You seemed to me to be extremely happy,' replied his lordship, in a
+sarcastic tone.
+
+'Now, Cadurcis, for Heaven's sake do not play with my feelings,'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, in a deprecating tone. 'Pray be amiable. If
+I think you are in one of your dark humours, it is quite impossible
+for me to attend to these people; and you know it is the only point on
+which Monteagle ever has an opinion; he insists upon my attending to
+his guests.'
+
+'If you prefer his guests to me, attend to them.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis! I ask you as a favour, a favour to me, only for
+to-day. Be kind, be amiable, you can if you like; no person can be
+more amiable; now, do!'
+
+'I am amiable,' said his lordship; 'I am perfectly satisfied, if you
+are. You made me dine here.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis!'
+
+'Have I not dined here to satisfy you?'
+
+'Yes! It was very kind.'
+
+'But, really, that I should be wearied with all the common-places of
+these creatures who come to eat your husband's cutlets, is too much,'
+said his lordship. 'And you, Gertrude, what necessity can there be in
+your troubling yourself to amuse people whom you meet every day of
+your life, and who, from the vulgar perversity of society, value you
+in exact proportion as you neglect them?'
+
+'Yes, but to-day I must be attentive; for Henry, with his usual
+thoughtlessness, has asked this new bishop to dine with us.'
+
+'The Bishop of----?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Is he coming?'
+
+'He has been in the room this quarter of an hour?'
+
+'What, Masham! Doctor Masham!' continued Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Assuredly.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis changed colour, and even sighed. He rose rather quickly,
+and said, 'I must go and speak to him.'
+
+So, quitting Lady Monteagle, he crossed the room, and with all the
+simplicity of old days, which instantly returned on him, those
+melancholy eyes sparkling with animation, and that languid form quick
+with excitement, he caught the Doctor's glance, and shook his extended
+hand with a heartiness which astonished the surrounding spectators,
+accustomed to the elaborate listlessness of his usual manner.
+
+'My dear Doctor! my dear Lord! I am glad to say,' said Cadurcis, 'this
+is the greatest and the most unexpected pleasure I ever received. Of
+all persons in the world, you are the one whom I was most anxious to
+meet.'
+
+The good Bishop appeared not less gratified with the rencounter than
+Cadurcis himself; but, in the midst of their mutual congratulations,
+dinner was announced and served; and, in due order, Lord Cadurcis
+found himself attending that fine lady, whom Mr. Horace Pole had, in
+jest, suggested should be the object of his services; while Mr. Pole
+himself was seated opposite to him at table.
+
+The lady, remembering all Mr. Pole's intimations, was really
+much frightened; she at first could scarcely reply to the casual
+observations of her neighbour, and quite resolved not to eat anything.
+But his lively and voluble conversation, his perfectly unaffected
+manner, and the nonchalance with which he helped himself to every dish
+that was offered him, soon reassured her. Her voice became a little
+firmer, her manner less embarrassed, and she even began meditating a
+delicate assault upon a fricassee.
+
+'Are you going to Ranelagh to-night?' inquired Lord Cadurcis; 'I think
+I shall take a round. There is nothing like amusement; it is the only
+thing worth living for; and I thank my destiny I am easily amused. We
+must persuade Lady Monteagle to go with us. Let us make a party, and
+return and sup. I like a supper; nothing in the world more charming
+than a supper,
+
+  A lobster salad, and champagne and chat.
+
+That is life, and delightful. Why, really, my dear madam, you eat
+nothing. You will never be able to endure the fatigues of a Ranelagh
+campaign on the sustenance of a pâté. Pole, my good fellow, will you
+take a glass of wine? We had a pleasant party yesterday at Fanshawe's,
+and apparently a capital dinner. I was sorry that I could not play my
+part; but I have led rather a raking life lately. We must go and dine
+with him again.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis' neighbour and Mr. Pole exchanged looks; and the lady,
+emboldened by the unexpected conduct of her cavalier and the exceeding
+good friends which he seemed resolved to be with her and every
+one else, began to flatter herself that she might yet obtain the
+much-desired inscription in her volume. So, after making the usual
+approaches, of having a great favour to request, which, however, she
+could not flatter herself would be granted, and which she even was
+afraid to mention; encouraged by the ready declaration of Lord
+Cadurcis, that he should think it would be quite impossible for any
+one to deny her anything, the lady ventured to state, that Mr. Fox had
+written something in her book, and she should be the most honoured and
+happiest lady in the land if--'
+
+'Oh! I shall be most happy,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'I really esteem your
+request quite an honour: you know I am only a literary amateur, and
+cannot pretend to vie with your real authors. If you want them, you
+must go to Mrs. Montagu. I would not write a line for her, and no the
+blues have quite excommunicated me. Never mind; I leave them to Miss
+Hannah More; but you, you are quite a different sort of person. What
+shall I write?'
+
+'I must leave the subject to you,' said his gratified friend.
+
+'Well, then,' said his lordship, 'I dare say you have got a lapdog or
+a broken fan; I don't think I could soar above them. I think that is
+about my tether.'
+
+This lady, though a great person, was not a beauty, and very little
+of a wit, and not calculated in any respect to excite the jealousy of
+Lady Monteagle. In the meantime that lady was quite delighted with the
+unusual animation of Lord Cadurcis, who was much the most entertaining
+member of the party. Every one present would circulate throughout
+the world that it was only at the Monteagle's that Lord Cadurcis
+condescended to be amusing. As the Bishop was seated on her right
+hand, Lady Monteagle seized the opportunity of making inquiries as to
+their acquaintance; but she only obtained from the good Masham that he
+had once resided in his lordship's neighbourhood, and had known him as
+a child, and was greatly attached to him. Her ladyship was anxious to
+obtain some juvenile anecdotes of her hero; but the Bishop contrived
+to be amusing without degenerating into gossip. She did not glean
+much, except that all his early friends were more astonished at his
+present career than the Bishop himself, who was about to add, that
+he always had some misgivings, but, recollecting where he was, he
+converted the word into a more gracious term. But if Lady Monteagle
+were not so successful as she could wish in her inquiries, she
+contrived still to speak on the, to her, ever-interesting subject, and
+consoled herself by the communications which she poured into a guarded
+yet not unwilling ear, respecting the present life and conduct of
+the Bishop's former pupil. The worthy dignitary had been prepared by
+public fame for much that was dazzling and eccentric; but it must be
+confessed he was not a little astonished by a great deal to which he
+listened. One thing, however, was clear that whatever might be the
+demeanour of Cadurcis to the circle in which he now moved, time, and
+the strange revolutions of his life, had not affected his carriage
+to his old friend. It gratified the Bishop while he listened to Lady
+Monteagle's details of the haughty, reserved, and melancholy demeanour
+of Cadurcis, which impressed every one with an idea that some superior
+being had, as a punishment, been obliged to visit their humble globe,
+to recall the apparently heartfelt cordiality with which he had
+resumed his old acquaintance with the former rector of Marringhurst.
+
+And indeed, to speak truth, the amiable and unpretending behaviour of
+Cadurcis this day was entirely attributable to the unexpected meeting
+with this old friend. In the hurry of society he could scarcely dwell
+upon the associations which it was calculated to call up; yet
+more than once he found himself quite absent, dwelling on sweet
+recollections of that Cherbury that he had so loved. And ever and anon
+the tones of a familiar voice caught his ear, so that they almost made
+him start: they were not the less striking, because, as Masham was
+seated on the same side of the table as Cadurcis, his eye had not
+become habituated to the Bishop's presence, which sometimes he almost
+doubted.
+
+He seized the first opportunity after dinner of engaging his old tutor
+in conversation. He took him affectionately by the arm, and led him,
+as if unintentionally, to a sofa apart from the rest of the company,
+and seated himself by his side. Cadurcis was agitated, for he was
+about to inquire of some whom he could not mention without emotion.
+
+'Is it long since you have seen our friends?' said his lordship, 'if
+indeed I may call them mine.'
+
+'Lady Annabel Herbert?' said the Bishop.
+
+Cadurcis bowed.
+
+'I parted from her about two months back,' continued the Bishop.
+
+'And Cherbury, dear Cherbury, is it unchanged?'
+
+'They have not resided there for more than two years.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'They have lived, of late, at Weymouth, for the benefit of the sea
+air.'
+
+'I hope neither Lady Annabel nor her daughter needs it?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, in a tone of much feeling.
+
+'Neither now, God be praised!' replied Masham; 'but Miss Herbert has
+been a great invalid.'
+
+There was a rather awkward silence. At length Lord Cadurcis said, 'We
+meet rather unexpectedly, my dear sir.'
+
+'Why, you have become a great man,' said the Bishop, with a smile;
+'and one must expect to meet you.'
+
+'Ah! my dear friend,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, with a sigh, 'I would
+willingly give a whole existence of a life like this for one year of
+happiness at Cherbury.'
+
+'Nay!' said the Bishop, with a look of good-natured mockery, 'this
+melancholy is all very well in poetry; but I always half-suspected,
+and I am quite sure now, that Cherbury was not particularly adapted to
+you.'
+
+'You mistake me,' said Cadurcis, mournfully shaking his head.
+
+'Hitherto I have not been so very wrong in my judgment respecting
+Lord Cadurcis, that I am inclined very easily to give up my opinion,'
+replied the Bishop.
+
+'I have often thought of the conversation to which you allude,'
+replied Lord Cadurcis; 'nevertheless, there is one opinion I never
+changed, one sentiment that still reigns paramount in my heart.'
+
+'You think so,' said his companion; but, perhaps, were it more than a
+sentiment, it would cease to flourish.'
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis firmly; 'the only circumstance in the world
+of which I venture to feel certain is my love for Venetia.'
+
+'It raged certainly during your last visit to Cherbury,' said the
+Bishop, 'after an interval of five years; it has been revived slightly
+to-day, after an interval of three more, by the sight of a mutual
+acquaintance, who has reminded you of her. But what have been your
+feelings in the meantime? Confess the truth, and admit you have very
+rarely spared a thought to the person to whom you fancy yourself at
+this moment so passionately devoted.'
+
+'You do not do me justice,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you are prejudiced
+against me.'
+
+'Nay! prejudice is not my humour, my good lord. I decide only from
+what I myself observe; I give my opinion to you at this moment as
+freely as I did when you last conversed with me at the abbey, and when
+I a little displeased you by speaking what you will acknowledge has
+since turned out to be the truth.'
+
+'You mean, then, to say,' said his lordship, with some excitement,
+'that you do not believe that I love Venetia?'
+
+'I think you do, at this moment,' replied Masham; 'and I think,' he
+continued, smiling, 'that you may probably continue very much in love
+with her, even during the rest of the week.'
+
+'You mock me!'
+
+'Nay! I am sincerely serious.'
+
+'What, then, do you mean?'
+
+'I mean that your imagination, my lord, dwelling for the moment with
+great power upon the idea of Venetia, becomes inflamed, and your whole
+mind is filled with her image.'
+
+'A metaphysical description of being in love,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+rather dryly.
+
+'Nay!' said Masham, 'I think the heart has something to do with that.'
+
+'But the imagination acts upon the heart,' rejoined his companion.
+
+'But it is in the nature of its influence not to endure. At this
+moment, I repeat, your lordship may perhaps love Miss Herbert; you
+may go home and muse over her memory, and even deplore in passionate
+verses your misery in being separated from her; but, in the course of
+a few days, she will be again forgotten.'
+
+'But were she mine?' urged Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Why, you would probably part from her in a year, as her father parted
+from Lady Annabel.'
+
+'Impossible! for my imagination could not conceive anything more
+exquisite than she is.'
+
+'Then it would conceive something less exquisite,' said the Bishop.
+'It is a restless quality, and is ever creative, either of good or of
+evil.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Doctor, excuse me for again calling you Doctor, it is so
+natural,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of affection.
+
+'Call me what you will, my dear lord,' said the good Bishop, whose
+heart was moved; 'I can never forget old days.'
+
+'Believe me, then,' continued Cadurcis, 'that you misjudge me in
+respect of Venetia. I feel assured that, had we married three years
+ago, I should have been a much happier man.'
+
+'Why, you have everything to make you happy,' said the Bishop; 'if you
+are not happy, who should be? You are young, and you are famous: all
+that is now wanted is to be wise.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis shrugged his shoulders. I am tired of this life,' he
+said; 'I am wearied of the same hollow bustle, and the same false
+glitter day after day. Ah! my dear friend, when I remember the happy
+hours when I used to roam through the woods of Cherbury with Venetia,
+and ramble in that delicious park, both young, both innocent, lit by
+the sunset and guided by the stars; and then remember that it has all
+ended in this, and that this is success, glory, fame, or whatever be
+the proper title to baptize the bubble, the burthen of existence is
+too great for me.'
+
+'Hush, hush!' said his friend, rising from the sofa; 'you will be
+happy if you be wise.'
+
+'But what is wisdom?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'One quality of it, in your situation, my lord, is to keep your head
+as calm as you can. Now, I must bid you good night.'
+
+The Bishop disappeared, and Lord Cadurcis was immediately surrounded
+by several fine ladies, who were encouraged by the flattering bulletin
+that his neighbour at dinner, who was among them, had given of his
+lordship's temper. They were rather disappointed to find him sullen,
+sarcastic, and even morose. As for going to Ranelagh, he declared
+that, if he had the power of awarding the punishment of his bitterest
+enemy, it would be to consign him for an hour to the barbarous
+infliction of a promenade in that temple of ennui; and as for the
+owner of the album, who, anxious about her verses, ventured to express
+a hope that his lordship would call upon her, the contemptuous bard
+gave her what he was in the habit of styling 'a look,' and quitted
+the room, without deigning otherwise to acknowledge her hopes and her
+courtesy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+We must now return to our friends the Herberts, who, having quitted
+Weymouth, without even revisiting Cherbury, are now on their journey
+to the metropolis. It was not without considerable emotion that Lady
+Annabel, after an absence of nearly nineteen years, contemplated her
+return to the scene of some of the most extraordinary and painful
+occurrences of her life. As for Venetia, who knew nothing of towns and
+cities, save from the hasty observations she had made in travelling,
+the idea of London, formed only from books and her imagination, was
+invested with even awful attributes. Mistress Pauncefort alone
+looked forward to their future residence simply with feelings of
+self-congratulation at her return, after so long an interval, to the
+theatre of former triumphs and pleasures, and where she conceived
+herself so eminently qualified to shine and to enjoy.
+
+The travellers entered town towards nightfall, by Hyde Park Corner,
+and proceeded to an hotel in St. James's Street, where Lady Annabel's
+man of business had engaged them apartments. London, with its pallid
+parish lamps, scattered at long intervals, would have presented but a
+gloomy appearance to the modern eye, habituated to all the splendour
+of gas; but to Venetia it seemed difficult to conceive a scene of more
+brilliant bustle; and she leant back in the carriage, distracted with
+the lights and the confusion of the crowded streets. When they were
+once safely lodged in their new residence, the tumult of unpacking the
+carriages had subsided, and the ceaseless tongue of Pauncefort had
+in some degree refrained from its wearying and worrying chatter,
+a feeling of loneliness, after all this agitation and excitement,
+simultaneously came over the feelings of both mother and daughter,
+though they alike repressed its expression. Lady Annabel was lost
+in many sad thoughts, and Venetia felt mournful, though she could
+scarcely define the cause. Both were silent, and they soon sought
+refuge from fatigue and melancholy in sleep.
+
+The next morning, it being now April, was fortunately bright and
+clear. It certainly was a happy fortune that the fair Venetia was not
+greeted with a fog. She rose refreshed and cheerful, and joined her
+mother, who was, however, not a little agitated by an impending visit,
+of which Venetia had been long apprised. This was from Lady Annabel's
+brother, the former ambassador, who had of late returned to his native
+country. The brother and sister had been warmly attached in youth, but
+the awful interval of time that had elapsed since they parted, filled
+Venetia's mother with many sad and serious reflections. The Earl and
+his family had been duly informed of Lady Annabel's visit to the
+metropolis, and had hastened to offer her the hospitality of their
+home; but the offer had been declined, with feelings, however, not a
+little gratified by the earnestness with which it had been proffered.
+
+Venetia was now, for the first time in her life, to see a relative.
+The anticipated meeting excited in her mind rather curiosity than
+sentiment. She could not share the agitation of her mother, and
+yet she looked forward to the arrival of her uncle with extreme
+inquisitiveness. She was not long kept in suspense. Their breakfast
+was scarcely finished, when he was announced. Lady Annabel turned
+rather pale; and Venetia, who felt herself as it were a stranger to
+her blood, would have retired, had not her mother requested her to
+remain; so she only withdrew to the back of the apartment.
+
+Her uncle was ten years the senior of his sister, but not unlike her.
+Tall, graceful, with those bland and sympathising manners that easily
+win hearts, he entered the room with a smile of affection, yet with a
+composure of deportment that expressed at the same time how sincerely
+delighted he was at the meeting, and how considerately determined, at
+the same time, not to indulge in a scene. He embraced his sister with
+tenderness, assured her that she looked as young as ever, softly
+chided her for not making his house her home, and hoped that they
+should never part again; and he then turned to his niece. A fine
+observer, one less interested in the scene than the only witnesses,
+might have detected in the Earl, notwithstanding his experienced
+breeding, no ordinary surprise and gratification at the sight of the
+individual whose relationship he was now to claim for the first time.
+
+'I must claim an uncle's privilege,' he said, in a tone of sweetness
+and some emotion, as he pressed with his own the beautiful lips of
+Venetia. 'I ought to be proud of my niece. Why, Annabel! if only for
+the honour of our family, you should not have kept this jewel so long
+enshrined in the casket of Cherbury.'
+
+The Earl remained with them some hours, and his visit was really
+prolonged by the unexpected pleasure which he found in the society of
+his relations. He would not leave them until they promised to dine
+with him that day, and mentioned that he had prevented his wife from
+calling with him that morning, because he thought, after so long a
+separation, it might be better to meet thus quietly. Then they parted
+with affectionate cordiality on both sides; the Earl enchanted to find
+delightful companions where he was half afraid he might only meet
+tiresome relatives; Lady Annabel proud of her brother, and gratified
+by his kindness; and Venetia anxious to ascertain whether all her
+relations were as charming as her uncle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+When Lady Annabel and her daughter returned from their morning drive,
+they found the visiting ticket of the Countess on the table, who had
+also left a note, with which she had provided herself in case she was
+not so fortunate as to meet her relations. The note was affectionate,
+and expressed the great delight of the writer at again meeting her
+dear sister, and forming an acquaintance with her charming niece.
+
+'More relations!' said Venetia, with a somewhat droll expression of
+countenance.
+
+At this moment the Bishop of----, who had already called twice upon
+them unsuccessfully, entered the room. The sight of this old and dear
+friend gave great joy. He came to engage them to dine with him the
+next day, having already ineffectually endeavoured to obtain them for
+permanent guests. They sat chatting so long with him, that they were
+obliged at last to bid him an abrupt adieu, and hasten and make their
+toilettes for their dinner.
+
+Their hostess received her relations with a warmth which her husband's
+praises of her sister-in-law and niece had originally prompted, but
+which their appearance and manners instantly confirmed. As all the
+Earl's children were married, their party consisted to-day only of
+themselves; but it was a happy and agreeable meeting, for every
+one was desirous of being amiable. To be sure they had not many
+recollections or associations in common, and no one recurred to the
+past; but London, and the history of its fleeting hours, was an
+inexhaustible source of amusing conversation; and the Countess seemed
+resolved that Venetia should have a brilliant season; that she should
+be much amused and much admired. Lady Annabel, however, put in a plea
+for moderation, at least until Venetia was presented; but that the
+Countess declared must be at the next drawing-room, which was early in
+the ensuing week. Venetia listened to glittering narratives of balls
+and routs, operas and theatres, breakfasts and masquerades, Ranelagh
+and the Pantheon, with the same smiling composure as if she had been
+accustomed to them all her life, instead of having been shut up in
+a garden, with no livelier or brighter companions than birds and
+flowers.
+
+After dinner, as her aunt and uncle and Lady Annabel sat round the
+fire, talking of her maternal grandfather, a subject which did not at
+all interest her, Venetia stole from her chair to a table in a distant
+part of the room, and turned over some books and music that were lying
+upon it. Among these was a literary journal, which she touched almost
+by accident, and which opened, with the name of Lord Cadurcis on the
+top of its page. This, of course, instantly attracted her attention.
+Her eye passed hastily over some sentences which greatly astonished
+her, and, extending her arm for a chair without quitting the book,
+she was soon deeply absorbed by the marvels which rapidly unfolded
+themselves to her. The article in question was an elaborate criticism
+as well of the career as the works of the noble poet; for, indeed, as
+Venetia now learnt, they were inseparably blended. She gathered from
+these pages a faint and hasty yet not altogether unfaithful conception
+of the strange revolution that had occurred in the character,
+pursuits, and position of her former companion. In that mighty
+metropolis, whose wealth and luxury and power had that morning so
+vividly impressed themselves upon her consciousness, and to the
+history of whose pleasures and brilliant and fantastic dissipation she
+had recently been listening with a lively and diverted ear, it seemed
+that, by some rapid and magical vicissitude, her little Plantagenet,
+the faithful and affectionate companion of her childhood, whose
+sorrows she had so often soothed, and who in her pure and devoted love
+had always found consolation and happiness, had become 'the observed
+of all observers;' the most remarkable where all was striking, and
+dazzling where all were brilliant!
+
+His last visit to Cherbury, and its strange consequences, then
+occurred to her; his passionate addresses, and their bitter parting.
+Here was surely matter enough for a maiden's reverie, and into a
+reverie Venetia certainly fell, from which she was roused by the voice
+of her uncle, who could not conceive what book his charming niece
+could find so interesting, and led her to feel what an ill compliment
+she was paying to all present. Venetia hastily closed the volume, and
+rose rather confused from her seat; her radiant smile was the
+best apology to her uncle: and she compensated for her previous
+inattention, by playing to him on the harpsichord. All the time,
+however, the image of Cadurcis flitted across her vision, and she
+was glad when her mother moved to retire, that she might enjoy the
+opportunity of pondering in silence and unobserved over the strange
+history that she had read.
+
+London is a wonderful place! Four-and-twenty hours back, with a
+feeling of loneliness and depression amounting to pain, Venetia had
+fled to sleep as her only refuge; now only a day had passed, and
+she had both seen and heard many things that had alike startled and
+pleased her; had found powerful and charming friends; and laid her
+head upon her pillow in a tumult of emotion that long banished slumber
+from her beautiful eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Venetia soon found that she must bid adieu for ever, in London, to her
+old habits of solitude. She soon discovered that she was never to be
+alone. Her aunt called upon them early in the morning, and said that
+the whole day must be devoted to their court dresses; and in a few
+minutes they were all whirled off to a celebrated milliner's. After
+innumerable consultations and experiments, the dress of Venetia was
+decided on; her aunt and Lady Annabel were both assured that it would
+exceed in splendour and propriety any dress at the drawing-room.
+Indeed, as the great artist added, with such a model to work from
+it would reflect but little credit on the establishment, if any
+approached Miss Herbert in the effect she must inevitably produce.
+
+While her mother was undergoing some of those attentions to which
+Venetia had recently submitted, and had retired for a few minutes into
+an adjoining apartment, our little lady of Cherbury strolled about the
+saloon in which she had been left, until her attention was attracted
+by a portrait of a young man in an oriental dress, standing very
+sublimely amid the ruins of some desert city; a palm tree in the
+distance, and by his side a crouching camel, and some recumbent
+followers slumbering amid the fallen columns.
+
+'That is Lord Cadurcis, my love,' said her aunt, who at the moment
+joined her, 'the famous poet. All the young ladies are in love with
+him. I dare say you know his works by heart.'
+
+'No, indeed, aunt,' said Venetia; 'I have never even read them; but I
+should like very much.'
+
+'Not read Lord Cadurcis' poems! Oh! we must go and get them directly
+for you. Everybody reads them. You will be looked upon quite as a
+little barbarian. We will stop the carriage at Stockdale's, and get
+them for you.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel rejoined them; and, having made all their
+arrangements, they re-entered the carriage.
+
+'Stop at Stockdale's,' said her ladyship to the servant; 'I must
+get Cadurcis' last poem for Venetia. She will be quite back in her
+learning, Annabel.'
+
+'Cadurcis' last poem!' said Lady Annabel; 'do you mean Lord Cadurcis?
+Is he a poet?'
+
+'To he sure! Well, you are countrified not to know Lord Cadurcis!'
+
+'I know him very well,' said Lady Annabel, gravely; 'but I did not
+know he was a poet.'
+
+The Countess laughed, the carriage stopped, the book was brought; Lady
+Annabel looked uneasy, and tried to catch her daughter's countenance,
+but, strange to say, for the first time in her life was quite
+unsuccessful. The Countess took the book, and immediately gave it
+Venetia. 'There, my dear,' said her aunt, 'there never was anything so
+charming. I am so provoked that Cadurcis is a Whig.'
+
+'A Whig!' said Lady Annabel; 'he was not a Whig when I knew him.'
+
+'Oh! my dear, I am afraid he is worse than a Whig. He is almost a
+rebel! But then he is such a genius! Everything is allowed, you know,
+to a genius!' said the thoughtless sister-in-law.
+
+Lady Annabel was silent; but the stillness of her emotion must not be
+judged from the stillness of her tongue. Her astonishment at all she
+had heard was only equalled by what we may justly term her horror. It
+was impossible that she could have listened to any communication at
+the same time so astounding, and to her so fearful.
+
+'We knew Lord Cadurcis when he was very young, aunt,' said Venetia, in
+a quiet tone. 'He lived near mamma, in the country.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Annabel, if you see him in town bring him to me; he is
+the most difficult person in the world to get to one's house, and I
+would give anything if he would come and dine with me.'
+
+The Countess at last set her relations down at their hotel. When Lady
+Annabel was once more alone with her daughter, she said, 'Venetia,
+dearest, give me that book your aunt lent you.'
+
+Venetia immediately handed it to her, but her mother did not open it;
+but saying, 'The Bishop dines at four, darling; I think it is time for
+us to dress,' Lady Annabel left the room.
+
+To say the truth, Venetia was less surprised than disappointed by this
+conduct of her mother's; but she was not apt to murmur, and she tried
+to dismiss the subject from her thoughts.
+
+It was with unfeigned delight that the kind-hearted Masham welcomed
+under his own roof his two best and dearest friends. He had asked
+nobody to meet them; it was settled that they were to be quite alone,
+and to talk of nothing but Cherbury and Marringhurst. When they were
+seated at table, the Bishop, who had been detained at the House of
+Lords, and been rather hurried to be in time to receive his guests,
+turned to his servant and inquired whether any one had called.
+
+'Yes, my lord, Lord Cadurcis,' was the reply.
+
+'Our old companion,' said the Bishop to Lady Annabel, with a
+smile. 'He has called upon me twice, and I have on both occasions
+unfortunately been absent.'
+
+Lady Annabel merely bowed an assent to the Bishop's remark. Venetia
+longed to speak, but found it impossible. 'What is it that represses
+me?' she asked herself. 'Is there to be another forbidden subject
+insensibly to arise between us? I must struggle against this
+indefinable despotism that seems to pervade my life.'
+
+'Have you met Lord Cadurcis, sir?' at length asked Venetia.
+
+'Once; we resumed our acquaintance at a dinner party one day; but I
+shall soon see a great deal of him, for he has just taken his seat. He
+is of age, you know.'
+
+'I hope he has come to years of discretion in every sense,' said Lady
+Annabel; 'but I fear not.'
+
+'Oh, my dear lady!' said the Bishop, 'he has become a great man; he is
+our star. I assure you there is nobody in London talked of but Lord
+Cadurcis. He asked me a great deal after you and Cherbury. He will be
+delighted to see you.'
+
+'I cannot say,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that the desire of meeting is
+at all mutual. From all I hear, our connections and opinions are very
+different, and I dare say our habits likewise.'
+
+'My aunt lent us his new poem to-day,' said Venetia, boldly.
+
+'Have you read it?' asked the Bishop.
+
+'I am no admirer of modern poetry,' said Lady Annabel, somewhat
+tartly.
+
+'Poetry of any kind is not much in my way,' said the Bishop, 'but if
+you like to read his poems, I will lend them to you, for he gave me a
+copy; esteemed a great honour, I assure you.'
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Lady Annabel, 'both Venetia and myself
+are much engaged now; and I do not wish her to read while she is in
+London. When we return to Cherbury she will have abundance of time, if
+desirable.'
+
+Both Venetia and her worthy host felt that the present subject of
+conversation was not agreeable to Lady Annabel, and it was changed.
+They fell upon more gracious topics, and in spite of this somewhat
+sullen commencement the meeting was quite as delightful as they
+anticipated. Lady Annabel particularly exerted herself to please, and,
+as was invariably the case under such circumstances with this lady,
+she was eminently successful; she apparently endeavoured, by her
+remarkable kindness to her daughter, to atone for any unpleasant
+feeling which her previous manner might for an instant have
+occasioned. Venetia watched her beautiful and affectionate parent,
+as Lady Annabel now dwelt with delight upon the remembrance of their
+happy home, and now recurred to the anxiety she naturally felt about
+her daughter's approaching presentation, with feelings of love and
+admiration, which made her accuse herself for the recent rebellion of
+her heart. She thought only of her mother's sorrows, and her devotion
+to her child; and, grateful for the unexpected course of circumstances
+which seemed to be leading every member of their former little society
+to honour and happiness, she resolved to persist in that career of
+duty and devotion to her mother, from which it seemed to her she had
+never deviated for a moment but to experience sorrow, misfortune, and
+remorse. Never did Venetia receive her mother's accustomed embrace
+and blessing with more responsive tenderness and gratitude than
+this night. She banished Cadurcis and his poems from her thoughts,
+confident that, so long as her mother approved neither of her
+continuing his acquaintance, nor perusing his writings, it was well
+that the one should be a forgotten tie, and the other a sealed book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Among the intimate acquaintances of Lady Annabel's brother was the
+nobleman who had been a minister during the American war, and who
+had also been the guardian of Lord Cadurcis, of whom, indeed, he was
+likewise a distant relative. He had called with his wife on Lady
+Annabel, after meeting her and her daughter at her brother's, and had
+cultivated her acquaintance with great kindness and assiduity, so
+that Lady Annabel had found it impossible to refuse his invitation to
+dinner.
+
+This dinner occurred a few days after the visit of the Herberts to the
+Bishop, and that excellent personage, her own family, and some others
+equally distinguished, but all of the ministerial party, were invited
+to meet her. Lady Annabel found herself placed at table between a
+pompous courtier, who, being a gourmand, was not very prompt to
+disturb his enjoyment by conversation, and a young man whom she found
+very agreeable, and who at first, indeed, attracted her attention by
+his resemblance to some face with which she felt she was familiar,
+and yet which she was not successful in recalling. His manners were
+remarkably frank and ingenuous, yet soft and refined. Without having
+any peculiar brilliancy of expression, he was apt and fluent, and his
+whole demeanour characterised by a gentle modesty that was highly
+engaging. Apparently he had travelled a great deal, for he more than
+once alluded to his experience of foreign countries; but this was
+afterwards explained by Lady Annabel discovering, from an observation
+he let fall, that he was a sailor. A passing question from an opposite
+guest also told her that he was a member of parliament. While she was
+rather anxiously wishing to know who he might be, and congratulating
+herself that one in whose favour she was so much prepossessed should
+be on the right side, their host saluted him from the top of the
+table, and said, 'Captain Cadurcis, a glass of wine.'
+
+The countenance was now explained. It was indeed Lord Cadurcis whom he
+resembled, though his eyes were dark blue, and his hair light brown.
+This then was that cousin who had been sent to sea to make his
+fortune, and whom Lady Annabel had a faint recollection of poor Mrs.
+Cadurcis once mentioning. George Cadurcis had not exactly made his
+fortune, but he had distinguished himself in his profession, and
+especially in Rodney's victory, and had fought his way up to the
+command of a frigate. The frigate had recently been paid off, and he
+had called to pay his respects to his noble relative with the hope of
+obtaining his interest for a new command. The guardian of his
+cousin, mortified with the conduct of his hopeful ward, was not very
+favourably impressed towards any one who bore the name of Cadurcis;
+yet George, with no pretence, had a winning honest manner that made
+friends; his lordship took a fancy to him, and, as he could not at the
+moment obtain him a ship, he did the next best thing for him in his
+power; a borough was vacant, and he put him into parliament.
+
+'Do you know,' said Lady Annabel to her neighbour, 'I have been
+fancying all dinner time that we had met before; but I find it is that
+you only resemble one with whom I was once acquainted.'
+
+'My cousin!' said the Captain; 'he will be very mortified when I go
+home, if I tell him your ladyship speaks of his acquaintance as one
+that is past.'
+
+'It is some years since we met,' said Lady Annabel, in a more reserved
+tone.
+
+'Plantagenet can never forget what he owes to you,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'How often has he spoken to me of you and Miss Herbert! It
+was only the other night; yes! not a week ago; that he made me sit up
+with him all night, while he was telling stories of Cherbury: you see
+I am quite familiar with the spot,' he added, smiling.
+
+'You are very intimate with your cousin, I see,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I live a great deal with him,' said George Cadurcis. 'You know we had
+never met or communicated; and it was not Plantagenet's fault, I am
+sure; for of all the generous, amiable, lovable beings, Cadurcis is
+the best I ever met with in this world. Ever since we knew each other
+he has been a brother to me; and though our politics and opinions are
+so opposed, and we naturally live in such a different circle, he would
+have insisted even upon my having apartments in his house; nor is it
+possible for me to give you the slightest idea of the delicate and
+unceasing kindness I experience from him. If we had lived together all
+our lives, it would be impossible to be more united.'
+
+This eulogium rather softened Lady Annabel's heart; she even observed,
+'I always thought Lord Cadurcis naturally well disposed; I always
+hoped he would turn out well; but I was afraid, from what I heard, he
+was much changed. He shows, however, his sense and good feeling in
+selecting you for his friend; for you are his natural one,' she added,
+after a momentary pause.
+
+'And then you know,' he continued, 'it is so purely kind of him; for
+of course I am not fit to be a companion for Cadurcis, and perhaps, as
+far as that, no one is. Of course we have not a thought in common. I
+know nothing but what I have picked up in a rough life; and he, you
+know, is the cleverest person that ever lived, at least I think so.'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled.
+
+'Well, he is very young,' she observed, 'much your junior, Captain
+Cadurcis; and I hope he will yet prove a faithful steward of the great
+gifts that God has given him.'
+
+'I would stake all I hold dear,' said the Captain, with great
+animation, 'that Cadurcis turns out well. He has such a good heart.
+Ah! Lady Annabel, if he be now and then a little irregular, only think
+of the temptations that assail him. Only one-and-twenty, his own
+master, and all London at his feet. It is too much for any one's head.
+But say or think what the world may, I know him better than they do;
+and I know there is not a finer creature in existence. I hope his old
+friends will not desert him,' added Captain Cadurcis, with a smile
+which, seemed to deprecate the severity of Lady Annabel; 'for in spite
+of all his fame and prosperity, perhaps, after all, this is the time
+when he most needs them.'
+
+'Very possibly,' said her ladyship rather dryly.
+
+While the mother was engaged in this conversation with her neighbour
+respecting her former interesting acquaintance, such was the fame of
+Lord Cadurcis then in the metropolis, that he also formed the topic of
+conversation at another part of the table, to which the daughter was
+an attentive listener. The tone in which he was spoken of, however,
+was of a very different character. While no one disputed his genius,
+his principles, temper, and habits of life were submitted to the
+severest scrutiny; and it was with blended feelings of interest and
+astonishment that Venetia listened to the detail of wild opinions,
+capricious conduct, and extravagant and eccentric behaviour ascribed
+to the companion of her childhood, who had now become the spoiled
+child of society. A shrewd gentleman, who had taken an extremely
+active part in this discussion, inquired of Venetia, next to whom he
+was seated, whether she had read his lordship's last poem. He was
+extremely surprised when Venetia answered in the negative; but he
+seized the opportunity of giving her an elaborate criticism on the
+poetical genius of Cadurcis. 'As for his style,' said the critic, 'no
+one can deny that is his own, and he will last by his style; as for
+his philosophy, and all these wild opinions of his, they will pass
+away, because they are not genuine, they are not his own, they are
+borrowed. He will outwrite them; depend upon it, he will. The fact is,
+as a friend of mine observed the other day, Herbert's writings have
+turned his head. Of course you could know nothing about them, but
+there are wonderful things in them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I believe it most sincerely,' said Venetia.
+
+The critic stared at his neighbour. 'Hush!' said he, 'his wife and
+daughter are here. We must not talk of these things. You know Lady
+Annabel Herbert? There she is; a very fine woman too. And that is his
+daughter there, I believe, that dark girl with a turned-up nose. I
+cannot say she warrants the poetical address to her:
+
+  My precious pearl the false and glittering world
+  Has ne'er polluted with, its garish light!
+
+She does not look much like a pearl, does she? She should keep in
+solitude, eh?'
+
+The ladies rose and relieved Venetia from her embarrassment.
+
+After dinner Lady Annabel introduced George Cadurcis to her daughter;
+and, seated by them both, he contrived without effort, and without the
+slightest consciousness of success, to confirm the pleasing impression
+in his favour which he had already made, and, when they parted, it was
+even with a mutual wish that they might meet again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was the night after the drawing-room. Lord Cadurcis was at Brookes'
+dining at midnight, having risen since only a few hours. Being a
+malcontent, he had ceased to attend the Court, where his original
+reception had been most gracious, which he had returned by some
+factious votes, and a caustic lampoon.
+
+A party of young men entered, from the Court Ball, which in those days
+always terminated at midnight, whence the guests generally proceeded
+to Ranelagh; one or two of them seated themselves at the table at
+which Cadurcis was sitting. They were full of a new beauty who had
+been presented. Their violent and even extravagant encomiums excited
+his curiosity. Such a creature had never been seen, she was peerless,
+the most radiant of acknowledged charms had been dimmed before her.
+Their Majesties had accorded to her the most marked reception. A
+Prince of the blood had honoured her with his hand. Then they began to
+expatiate with fresh enthusiasm on her unparalleled loveliness.
+
+'O Cadurcis,' said a young noble, who was one of his extreme admirers,
+'she is the only creature I ever beheld worthy of being one of your
+heroines.'
+
+'Whom are you talking about?' asked Cadurcis in a rather listless
+tone.
+
+'The new beauty, of course.'
+
+'And who may she be?'
+
+'Miss Herbert, to be sure. Who speaks or thinks of any one else?'
+
+'What, Ve----, I mean Miss Herbert?' exclaimed Cadurcis, with no
+little energy.
+
+'Yes. Do you know her?'
+
+'Do you mean to say--' and Cadurcis stopped and rose from the table,
+and joined the party round the fire. 'What Miss Herbert is it?' he
+added, after a short pause.
+
+'Why _the_ Miss Herbert; Herbert's daughter, to be sure. She was
+presented to-day by her mother.
+
+'Lady Annabel?'
+
+'The same.'
+
+'Presented to-day!' said Cadurcis audibly, yet speaking as it were to
+himself. 'Presented to-day! Presented! How strange!'
+
+'So every one thinks; one of the strangest things that ever happened,'
+remarked a bystander.
+
+'And I did not even know they were in town,' continued Cadurcis, for,
+from his irregular hours, he had not seen his cousin since the party
+of yesterday. He began walking up and down the room, muttering,
+'Masham, Weymouth, London, presented at Court, and I know nothing. How
+life changes! Venetia at Court, my Venetia!' Then turning round and
+addressing the young nobleman who had first spoken to him, he asked
+'if the ball were over.'
+
+'Yes; all the world are going to Ranelagh. Are you inclined to take a
+round?'
+
+'I have a strange fancy,' said Cadurcis, 'and if you will go with me,
+I will take you in my vis-à-vis. It is here.'
+
+This was an irresistible invitation, and in a few minutes the
+companions were on their way; Cadurcis, apparently with no peculiar
+interest in the subject, leading the conversation very artfully to
+the presentation of Miss Herbert. His friend was heartily inclined to
+gratify his curiosity. He gave him ample details of Miss Herbert's
+person: even of her costume, and the sensation both produced; how she
+was presented by her mother, who, after so long an estrangement from
+the world, scarcely excited less impression, and the remarkable
+cordiality with which both mother and daughter were greeted by the
+sovereign and his royal consort.
+
+The two young noblemen found Ranelagh crowded, but the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis occasioned a sensation the moment he was recognised.
+Everywhere the whisper went round, and many parties crowded near to
+catch a glimpse of the hero of the day. 'Which is he? That fair,
+tall young man? No, the other to be sure. Is it really he? How
+distinguished! How melancholy! Quite the poet. Do you think he is
+really so unhappy as he looks? I would sooner see him than the King
+and Queen. He seems very young, but then he has seen so much of the
+world! Fine eyes, beautiful hair! I wonder who is his friend? How
+proud he must be! Who is that lady he bowed to? That is the Duke
+of ---- speaking to him,' Such were the remarks that might be caught in
+the vicinity of Lord Cadurcis as he took his round, gazed at by the
+assembled crowd, of whom many knew him only by fame, for the charm of
+Ranelagh was that it was rather a popular than a merely fashionable
+assembly. Society at large blended with the Court, which maintained
+and renewed its influence by being witnessed under the most graceful
+auspices. The personal authority of the aristocracy has decreased with
+the disappearance of Ranelagh and similar places of amusement, where
+rank was not exclusive, and luxury by the gratification it occasioned
+others seemed robbed of half its selfism.
+
+In his second round, Lord Cadurcis recognised the approach of the
+Herberts. They formed the portion of a large party. Lady Annabel was
+leaning on her brother, whom Cadurcis knew by sight; Venetia was at
+the side of her aunt, and several gentlemen were hovering about them;
+among them, to his surprise, his cousin, George Cadurcis, in his
+uniform, for he had been to Court and to the Court Ball. Venetia was
+talking with animation. She was in her Court dress and in powder. Her
+appearance was strange to him. He could scarcely recognise the
+friend of his childhood; but without any doubt in all that assembly,
+unrivalled in the whole world for beauty, grace, and splendour, she
+was without a parallel; a cynosure on which all eyes were fixed.
+
+So occupied were the ladies of the Herbert party by the conversation
+of their numerous and brilliant attendants, that the approach of any
+one else but Lord Cadurcis might have been unnoticed by them, but
+a hundred tongues before he drew nigh had prepared Venetia for his
+appearance. She was indeed most anxious to behold him, and though she
+was aware that her heart fluttered not slightly as the moment was at
+hand, she commanded her gaze, and her eyes met his, although she was
+doubtful whether he might choose or care to recognise her. He bowed
+almost to the ground; and when Venetia had raised her responsive head
+he had passed by.
+
+'Why, Cadurcis, you know Miss Herbert?' said his friend in a tone of
+some astonishment.
+
+'Well; but it is a long time since I have seen her.'
+
+'Is she not beautiful?'
+
+'I never doubted on that subject; I tell you, Scrope, we must contrive
+to join her party. I wish we had some of our friends among them. Here
+comes the Monteagle; aid me to escape her.'
+
+The most fascinating smile failed in arresting the progress of
+Cadurcis; fortunately, the lady was the centre of a brilliant band;
+all that he had to do, therefore, was boldly to proceed.
+
+'Do you think my cousin is altered since you knew him?' inquired
+George Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I scarcely had time to observe him,' she replied.
+
+'I wish you would let me bring him to you. He did not know until this
+moment you were in town. I have not seen him since we met yesterday.'
+
+'Oh, no,' said Venetia. 'Do not disturb him.'
+
+In time, however, Lord Cadurcis was again in sight; and now without
+any hesitation he stopped, and falling into the line by Miss Herbert,
+he addressed her: 'I am proud of being remembered by Miss Herbert,' he
+said.
+
+'I am most happy to meet you,' replied Venetia, with unaffected
+sincerity.
+
+'And Lady Annabel, I have not been able to catch her eye: is she quite
+well? I was ignorant that you were in London until I heard of your
+triumph this night.'
+
+The Countess whispered her niece, and Venetia accordingly presented
+Lord Cadurcis to her aunt. This was a most gratifying circumstance to
+him. He was anxious, by some means or other, to effect his entrance
+into her circle; and he had an irresistible suspicion that Lady
+Annabel no longer looked upon him with eyes of favour. So he resolved
+to enlist the aunt as his friend. Few persons could be more winning
+than Cadurcis, when he willed it; and every attempt to please from one
+whom all emulated to gratify and honour, was sure to be successful.
+The Countess, who, in spite of politics, was a secret votary of his,
+was quite prepared to be enchanted. She congratulated herself
+on forming, as she had long wished, an acquaintance with one so
+celebrated. She longed to pass Lady Monteagle in triumph. Cadurcis
+improved his opportunity to the utmost. It was impossible for any
+one to be more engaging; lively, yet at the same time gentle, and
+deferential with all his originality. He spoke, indeed, more to the
+aunt than to Venetia, but when he addressed the latter, there was
+a melting, almost a mournful tenderness in his tones, that alike
+affected her heart and charmed her imagination. Nor could she be
+insensible to the gratification she experienced as she witnessed,
+every instant, the emotion his presence excited among the passers-by,
+and of which Cadurcis himself seemed so properly and so utterly
+unconscious. And this was Plantagenet!
+
+Lord Cadurcis spoke of his cousin, who, on his joining the party, had
+assisted the arrangement by moving to the other side; and he spoke of
+him with a regard which pleased Venetia, though Cadurcis envied him
+his good fortune in having the advantage of a prior acquaintance
+with Miss Herbert in town; 'but then we are old acquaintances in the
+country,' he added, half in a playful, half in a melancholy tone, 'are
+we not?'
+
+'It is a long time that we have known each other, and it is a long
+time since we have met,' replied Venetia.
+
+'A delicate reproach,' said Cadurcis; 'but perhaps rather my
+misfortune than my fault. My thoughts have been often, I might say
+ever, at Cherbury.'
+
+'And the abbey; have you forgotten the abbey?'
+
+'I have never been near it since a morning you perhaps remember,' said
+his lordship in a low voice. 'Ah! Miss Herbert,' he continued, with
+a sigh, 'I was young then; I have lived to change many opinions, and
+some of which you then disapproved.'
+
+The party stopped at a box just vacant, and in which the ladies seated
+themselves while their carriages were inquired for. Lord Cadurcis,
+with a rather faltering heart, went up to pay his respects to
+Venetia's mother. Lady Annabel received him with a courtesy, that
+however was scarcely cordial, but the Countess instantly presented
+him to her husband with an unction which a little astonished her
+sister-in-law. Then a whisper, but unobserved, passed between the Earl
+and his lady, and in a minute Lord Cadurcis had been invited to dine
+with them on the next day, and meet his old friends from the country.
+Cadurcis was previously engaged, but hesitated not a moment in
+accepting the invitation. The Monteagle party now passed by; the
+lady looked a little surprised at the company in which she found her
+favourite, and not a little mortified by his neglect. What business
+had Cadurcis to be speaking to that Miss Herbert? Was it not enough
+that the whole day not another name had scarcely crossed her ear, but
+the night must even witness the conquest of Lord Cadurcis by the
+new beauty? It was such bad ton, it was so unlike him, it was so
+underbred, for a person of his position immediately to bow before the
+new idol of the hour, and a Tory girl too! It was the last thing
+she could have expected from him. She should, on the contrary,
+have thought that the universal admiration which this Miss Herbert
+commanded, would have been exactly the reason why a man like Cadurcis
+would have seemed almost unconscious of her existence. She determined
+to remonstrate with him; and she was sure of a speedy opportunity, for
+he was to dine with her on the morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Notwithstanding Lady Annabel's reserved demeanour, Lord Cadurcis,
+supported by the presence of his cousin, whom he had discovered to be
+a favourite of that lady, ventured to call upon her the next day, but
+she was out. They were to meet, however, at dinner, where Cadurcis
+determined to omit no opportunity to propitiate her. The Countess had
+a great deal of tact, and she contrived to make up a party to receive
+him, in which there were several of his friends, among them his cousin
+and the Bishop of----, and no strangers who were not, like herself,
+his great admirers; but if she had known more, she need not have given
+herself this trouble, for there was a charm among her guests of which
+she was ignorant, and Cadurcis went determined to please and to be
+pleased.
+
+At dinner he was seated next to Lady Annabel, and it was impossible
+for any person to be more deferential, soft, and insinuating. He spoke
+of old days with emotion which he did not attempt to suppress; he
+alluded to the present with infinite delicacy. But it was very
+difficult to make way. Lady Annabel was courteous, but she was
+reserved. His lively reminiscences elicited from her no corresponding
+sentiment; and no art would induce her to dwell upon the present. If
+she only would have condescended to compliment him, it would have
+given him an opportunity of expressing his distaste of the life which
+he now led, and a description of the only life which he wished to
+lead; but Lady Annabel studiously avoided affording him any opening
+of the kind. She treated him like a stranger. She impressed upon him
+without effort that she would only consider him an acquaintance. How
+Cadurcis, satiated with the incense of the whole world, sighed for one
+single congratulation from Lady Annabel! Nothing could move her.
+
+'I was so surprised to meet you last night,' at length he again
+observed. 'I have made so many inquiries after you. Our dear friend
+the Bishop was, I fear, almost wearied with my inquiries after
+Cherbury. I know not how it was, I felt quite a pang when I heard that
+you had left it, and that all these years, when I have been conjuring
+up so many visions of what was passing under that dear roof, you were
+at Weymouth.'
+
+'Yes. We were at Weymouth some time.'
+
+'But do not you long to see Cherbury again? I cannot tell you how
+I pant for it. For my part, I have seen the world, and I have seen
+enough of it. After all, the end of all our exertions is to be happy
+at home; that is the end of everything; don't you think so?'
+
+'A happy home is certainly a great blessing,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and a rare one.'
+
+'But why should it be rare?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is our own fault,' said Lady Annabel; 'our vanity drives us from
+our hearths.'
+
+'But we soon return again, and calm and cooled. For my part, I have no
+object in life but to settle down at the old abbey, and never to quit
+again our woods. But I shall lead a dull life without my neighbours,'
+he added, with a smile, and in a tone half-coaxing.
+
+'I suppose you never see Lord ---- now?' said Lady Annabel, mentioning
+his late guardian. There was, as Cadurcis fancied, some sarcasm in the
+question, though not in the tone in which it was asked.
+
+'No, I never see him,' his lordship answered firmly; 'we differ in our
+opinions, and I differ from him with regret; but I differ from a sense
+of duty, and therefore I have no alternative.'
+
+'The claims of duty are of course paramount,' observed Lady Annabel.
+
+'You know my cousin?' said Cadurcis, to turn the conversation.
+
+'Yes, and I like him much; he appears to be a sensible, amiable
+person, of excellent principles.'
+
+'I am not bound to admire George's principles,' said Lord
+Cadurcis, gaily; 'but I respect them, because I know that they are
+conscientious. I love George; he is my only relation, and he is my
+friend.'
+
+'I trust he will always be your friend, for I think you will then, at
+least, know one person on whom you can depend.'
+
+'I believe it. The friendships of the world are wind.'
+
+'I am surprised to hear you say so,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Why, Lady Annabel?'
+
+'You have so many friends.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis smiled. 'I wish,' he said, after a little hesitation,
+'if only for "Auld lang syne," I might include Lady Annabel Herbert
+among them.'
+
+'I do not think there is any basis for friendship between us, my
+lord,' she said, very dryly.
+
+'The past must ever be with me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I should
+have thought a sure and solid one.'
+
+'Our opinions on all subjects are so adverse, that I must believe that
+there could be no great sympathy in our feelings.'
+
+'My feelings are beyond my control,' he replied; 'they are, and must
+ever be, totally independent of my opinions.'
+
+Lady Annabel did not reply. His lordship felt baffled, but he was
+resolved to make one more effort.
+
+'Do you know,' he said, 'I can scarcely believe myself in London
+to-day? To be sitting next to you, to see Miss Herbert, to hear Dr.
+Masham's voice. Oh! does it not recall Cherbury, or Marringhurst, or
+that day at Cadurcis, when you were so good as to smile over my rough
+repast? Ah! Lady Annabel, those days were happy! those were feelings
+that can never die! All the glitter and hubbub of the world can never
+make me forget them, can never make you, I hope, Lady Annabel, quite
+recall them with an effort. We were friends then: let us be friends
+now.'
+
+'I am too old to cultivate new friendships,' said Lady Annabel; 'and
+if we are to be friends, Lord Cadurcis, I am sorry to say that, after
+the interval that has occurred since we last parted, we should have to
+begin again.'
+
+'It is a long time,' said Cadurcis, mournfully, 'a very long time, and
+one, in spite of what the world may think, to which I cannot look back
+with any self-congratulation. I wished three years ago never to leave
+Cadurcis again. Indeed I did; and indeed it was not my fault that I
+quitted it.'
+
+'It was no one's fault, I hope. Whatever the cause may have been, I
+have ever remained quite ignorant of it. I wished, and wish, to
+remain ignorant of it. I, for one, have ever considered it the wise
+dispensation of a merciful Providence.'
+
+Cadurcis ground his teeth; a dark look came over him which, when
+once it rose on his brow, was with difficulty dispelled; and for the
+remainder of the dinner he continued silent and gloomy.
+
+He was, however, not unobserved by Venetia. She had watched his
+evident attempts to conciliate her mother with lively interest; she
+had witnessed their failure with sincere sorrow. In spite of that
+stormy interview, the results of which, in his hasty departure, and
+the severance of their acquaintance, she had often regretted, she had
+always retained for him the greatest affection. During these three
+years he had still, in her inmost heart, remained her own Plantagenet,
+her adopted brother, whom she loved, and in whose welfare her feelings
+were deeply involved. The mysterious circumstances of her birth, and
+the discoveries to which they had led, had filled her mind with a
+fanciful picture of human nature, over which she had long brooded. A
+great poet had become her ideal of a man. Sometimes she had sighed,
+when musing over her father and Plantagenet on the solitary seashore
+at Weymouth, that Cadurcis, instead of being the merely amiable, and
+somewhat narrow-minded being that she supposed, had not been invested
+with those brilliant and commanding qualities which she felt could
+alone master her esteem. Often had she, in those abstracted hours,
+played with her imagination in combining the genius of her father with
+the soft heart of that friend to whom she was so deeply attached. She
+had wished, in her reveries, that Cadurcis might have been a great
+man; that he might have existed in an atmosphere of glory amid the
+plaudits and admiration of his race; and that then he might have
+turned from all that fame, so dear to them both, to the heart which
+could alone sympathise with the native simplicity of his childhood.
+
+The ladies withdrew. The Bishop and another of the guests joined them
+after a short interval. The rest remained below, and drank their wine
+with the freedom not unusual in those days, Lord Cadurcis among them,
+although it was not his habit. But he was not convivial, though he
+never passed the bottle untouched. He was in one of those dark humours
+of which there was a latent spring in his nature, but which in old
+days had been kept in check by his simple life, his inexperienced
+mind, and the general kindness that greeted him, and which nothing but
+the caprice and perversity of his mother could occasionally develope.
+But since the great revolution in his position, since circumstances
+had made him alike acquainted with his nature, and had brought all
+society to acknowledge its superiority; since he had gained and felt
+his irresistible power, and had found all the world, and all the
+glory of it, at his feet, these moods had become more frequent. The
+slightest reaction in the self-complacency that was almost unceasingly
+stimulated by the applause of applauded men and the love of the
+loveliest women, instantly took the shape and found refuge in the
+immediate form of the darkest spleen, generally, indeed, brooding in
+silence, and, if speaking, expressing itself only in sarcasm. Cadurcis
+was indeed, as we have already described him, the spoiled child of
+society; a froward and petted darling, not always to be conciliated by
+kindness, but furious when neglected or controlled. He was habituated
+to triumph; it had been his lot to come, to see, and to conquer; even
+the procrastination of certain success was intolerable to him; his
+energetic volition could not endure a check. To Lady Annabel Herbert,
+indeed, he was not exactly what he was to others; there was a spell
+in old associations from which he unconsciously could not emancipate
+himself, and from which it was his opinion he honoured her in not
+desiring to be free. He had his reasons for wishing to regain his old,
+his natural influence, over her heart; he did not doubt for an instant
+that, if Cadurcis sued, success must follow the condescending effort.
+He had sued, and he had been met with coldness, almost with disdain.
+He had addressed her in those terms of tenderness which experience
+had led him to believe were irresistible, yet to which he seldom had
+recourse, for hitherto he had not been under the degrading necessity
+of courting. He had dwelt with fondness on the insignificant past,
+because it was connected with her; he had regretted, or affected
+even to despise, the glorious present, because it seemed, for some
+indefinite cause, to have estranged him from her hearth. Yes! he had
+humbled himself before her; he had thrown with disdain at her feet all
+that dazzling fame and expanding glory which seemed his peculiar and
+increasing privilege. He had delicately conveyed to her that even
+these would be sacrificed, not only without a sigh, but with cheerful
+delight, to find himself once more living, as of old, in the limited
+world of her social affections. Three years ago he had been rejected
+by the daughter, because he was an undistinguished youth. Now the
+mother recoiled from his fame. And who was this woman? The same cold,
+stern heart that had alienated the gifted Herbert; the same narrow,
+rigid mind that had repudiated ties that every other woman in the
+world would have gloried to cherish and acknowledge. And with her he
+had passed his prejudiced youth, and fancied, like an idiot, that he
+had found sympathy! Yes, so long as he was a slave, a mechanical,
+submissive slave, bowing his mind to all the traditionary bigotry
+which she adored, never daring to form an opinion for himself,
+worshipping her idol, custom, and labouring by habitual hypocrisy to
+perpetuate the delusions of all around her!
+
+In the meantime, while Lord Cadurcis was chewing the cud of these
+bitter feelings, we will take the opportunity of explaining the
+immediate cause of Lady Annabel's frigid reception of his friendly
+advances. All that she had heard of Cadurcis, all the information she
+had within these few days so rapidly acquired of his character and
+conduct, were indeed not calculated to dispose her to witness the
+renewal of their intimacy with feelings of remarkable satisfaction.
+But this morning she had read his poem, the poem that all London was
+talking of, and she had read it with horror. She looked upon Cadurcis
+as a lost man. With her, indeed, since her marriage, an imaginative
+mind had become an object of terror; but there were some peculiarities
+in the tone of Cadurcis' genius, which magnified to excess her general
+apprehension on this head. She traced, in every line, the evidences
+of a raging vanity, which she was convinced must prompt its owner
+to sacrifice, on all occasions, every feeling of duty to its
+gratification. Amid all the fervour of rebellious passions, and the
+violence of a wayward mind, a sentiment of profound egotism appeared
+to her impressed on every page she perused. Great as might have been
+the original errors of Herbert, awful as in her estimation were the
+crimes to which they had led him, they might in the first instance be
+traced rather to a perverted view of society than of himself. But self
+was the idol of Cadurcis; self distorted into a phantom that seemed
+to Lady Annabel pregnant not only with terrible crimes, but with the
+basest and most humiliating vices. The certain degradation which in
+the instance of her husband had been the consequence of a bad system,
+would, in her opinion, in the case of Cadurcis, be the result of a
+bad nature; and when she called to mind that there had once been a
+probability that this individual might have become the husband of her
+Venetia, her child whom it had been the sole purpose of her life to
+save from the misery of which she herself had been the victim; that
+she had even dwelt on the idea with complacency, encouraged its
+progress, regretted its abrupt termination, but consoled herself by
+the flattering hope that time, with even more favourable auspices,
+would mature it into fulfilment; she trembled, and turned pale.
+
+It was to the Bishop that, after dinner, Lady Annabel expressed some
+of the feelings which the reappearance of Cadurcis had occasioned her.
+
+'I see nothing but misery for his future,' she exclaimed; 'I tremble
+for him when he addresses me. In spite of the glittering surface on
+which he now floats, I foresee only a career of violence, degradation,
+and remorse.'
+
+'He is a problem difficult to solve,' replied Masham; 'but there are
+elements not only in his character, but his career, so different from
+those of the person of whom we were speaking, that I am not inclined
+at once to admit, that the result must necessarily be the same.'
+
+'I see none,' replied Lady Annabel; 'at least none of sufficient
+influence to work any material change.'
+
+'What think you of his success?' replied Masham. 'Cadurcis is
+evidently proud of it. With all his affected scorn of the world, he
+is the slave of society. He may pique the feelings of mankind, but I
+doubt whether he will outrage them.'
+
+'He is on such a dizzy eminence,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that I do not
+believe he is capable of calculating so finely. He does not believe, I
+am sure, in the possibility of resistance. His vanity will tempt him
+onwards.'
+
+'Not to persecution,' said Masham. 'Now, my opinion of Cadurcis is,
+that his egotism, or selfism, or whatever you may style it, will
+ultimately preserve him from any very fatal, from any irrecoverable
+excesses. He is of the world, worldly. All his works, all his conduct,
+tend only to astonish mankind. He is not prompted by any visionary
+ideas of ameliorating his species. The instinct of self-preservation
+will serve him as ballast.'
+
+'We shall see,' said Lady Annabel; 'for myself, whatever may be his
+end, I feel assured that great and disgraceful vicissitudes are in
+store for him.'
+
+'It is strange after what, in comparison with such extraordinary
+changes, must be esteemed so brief an interval,' observed Masham, with
+a smile, 'to witness such a revolution in his position. I often think
+to myself, can this indeed be our little Plantagenet?'
+
+'It is awful!' said Lady Annabel; 'much more than strange. For myself,
+when I recall certain indications of his feelings when he was last at
+Cadurcis, and think for a moment of the results to which they might
+have led, I shiver; I assure you, my dear lord, I tremble from head to
+foot. And I encouraged him! I smiled with fondness on his feelings! I
+thought I was securing the peaceful happiness of my child! What can we
+trust to in this world! It is too dreadful to dwell upon! It must have
+been an interposition of Providence that Venetia escaped.'
+
+'Dear little Venetia,' exclaimed the good Bishop; 'for I believe I
+shall call her little Venetia to the day of my death. How well she
+looks to-night! Her aunt is, I think, very fond of her! See!'
+
+'Yes, it pleases me,' said Lady Annabel; but I do wish my sister was
+not such an admirer of Lord Cadurcis' poems. You cannot conceive how
+uneasy it makes me. I am quite annoyed that he was asked here to-day.
+Why ask him?'
+
+'Oh! there is no harm,' said Masham; 'you must forget the past. By all
+accounts, Cadurcis is not a marrying man. Indeed, as I understood,
+marriage with him is at present quite out of the question. And as for
+Venetia, she rejected him before, and she will, if necessary, reject
+him again. He has been a brother to her, and after that he can be no
+more. Girls never fall in love with those with whom they are bred up.'
+
+'I hope, I believe there is no occasion for apprehension,' replied
+Lady Annabel; 'indeed, it has scarcely entered my head. The very
+charms he once admired in Venetia can have no sway over him, as
+I should think, now. I should believe him as little capable of
+appreciating Venetia now, as he was when last at Cherbury, of
+anticipating the change in his own character.'
+
+'You mean opinions, my dear lady, for characters never change. Believe
+me, Cadurcis is radically the same as in old days. Circumstances have
+only developed his latent predisposition.'
+
+'Not changed, my dear lord! what, that innocent, sweet-tempered,
+docile child--'
+
+'Hush! here he comes.'
+
+The Earl and his guests entered the room; a circle was formed round
+Lady Annabel; some evening visitors arrived; there was singing. It had
+not been the intention of Lord Cadurcis to return to the drawing-room
+after his rebuff by Lady Annabel; he had meditated making his peace at
+Monteagle House; but when the moment of his projected departure had
+arrived, he could not resist the temptation of again seeing Venetia.
+He entered the room last, and some moments after his companions. Lady
+Annabel, who watched the general entrance, concluded he had gone, and
+her attention was now fully engaged. Lord Cadurcis remained at the
+end of the room alone, apparently abstracted, and looking far from
+amiable; but his eye, in reality, was watching Venetia. Suddenly her
+aunt approached her, and invited the lady who was conversing with Miss
+Herbert to sing; Lord Cadurcis immediately advanced, and took her
+seat. Venetia was surprised that for the first time in her life
+with Plantagenet she felt embarrassed. She had met his look when he
+approached her, and had welcomed, or, at least, intended to welcome
+him with a smile, but she was at a loss for words; she was haunted
+with the recollection of her mother's behaviour to him at dinner, and
+she looked down on the ground, far from being at ease.
+
+'Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+She started.
+
+'We are alone,' he said; 'let me call you Venetia when we are alone.'
+
+She did not, she could not reply; she felt confused; the blood rose to
+her cheek.
+
+'How changed is everything!' continued Cadurcis. 'To think the day
+should ever arrive when I should have to beg your permission to call
+you Venetia!'
+
+She looked up; she met his glance. It was mournful; nay, his eyes were
+suffused with tears. She saw at her side the gentle and melancholy
+Plantagenet of her childhood.
+
+'I cannot speak; I am agitated at meeting you,' she said with her
+native frankness. 'It is so long since we have been alone; and, as you
+say, all is so changed.'
+
+'But are you changed, Venetia?' he said in a voice of emotion; 'for
+all other change is nothing.'
+
+'I meet you with pleasure,' she replied; 'I hear of your fame with
+pride. You cannot suppose that it is possible I should cease to be
+interested in your welfare.'
+
+'Your mother does not meet me with pleasure; she hears of nothing
+that has occurred to me with pride; your mother has ceased to take an
+interest in my welfare; and why should you be unchanged?'
+
+'You mistake my mother.'
+
+'No, no,' replied Cadurcis, shaking his head, 'I have read her inmost
+soul to-day. Your mother hates me; me, whom she once styled her son.
+She was a mother once to me, and you were my sister. If I have lost
+her heart, why have I not lost yours?'
+
+'My heart, if you care for it, is unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'O Venetia, whatever you may think, I never wanted the solace of a
+sister's love more than I do at this moment.'
+
+'I pledged my affection to you when we were children,' replied
+Venetia; 'you have done nothing to forfeit it, and it is yours still.'
+
+'When we were children,' said Cadurcis, musingly; 'when we were
+innocent; when we were happy. You, at least, are innocent still; are
+you happy, Venetia?'
+
+'Life has brought sorrows even to me, Plantagenet.'
+
+The blood deserted his heart when she called him Plantagenet; he
+breathed with difficulty.
+
+'When I last returned to Cherbury,' he said, 'you told me you were
+changed, Venetia; you revealed to me on another occasion the secret
+cause of your affliction. I was a boy then, a foolish ignorant boy.
+Instead of sympathising with your heartfelt anxiety, my silly vanity
+was offended by feelings I should have shared, and soothed, and
+honoured. Ah, Venetia! well had it been for one of us that I had
+conducted myself more kindly, more wisely.'
+
+'Nay, Plantagenet, believe me, I remember that interview only to
+regret it. The recollection of it has always occasioned me great
+grief. We were both to blame; but we were both children then. We must
+pardon each other's faults.'
+
+'You will hear, that is, if you care to listen, Venetia, much of my
+conduct and opinions,' continued Lord Cadurcis, 'that may induce you
+to believe me headstrong and capricious. Perhaps I am less of both in
+all things than the world imagines. But of this be certain, that my
+feelings towards you have never changed, whatever you may permit them
+to be; and if some of my boyish judgments have, as was but natural,
+undergone some transformation, be you, my sweet friend, in some degree
+consoled for the inconsistency, since I have at length learned duly to
+appreciate one of whom we then alike knew little, but whom a natural
+inspiration taught you, at least, justly to appreciate: I need not say
+I mean the illustrious father of your being.'
+
+Venetia could not restrain her tears; she endeavoured to conceal her
+agitated countenance behind the fan with which she was fortunately
+provided.
+
+'To me a forbidden subject,' said Venetia, 'at least with them I could
+alone converse upon it, but one that my mind never deserts.'
+
+'O Venetia!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'would we were both
+with him!'
+
+'A wild thought,' she murmured, 'and one I must not dwell upon.'
+
+'We shall meet, I hope,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'we must meet, meet
+often. I called upon your mother to-day, fruitlessly. You must attempt
+to conciliate her. Why should we be parted? We, at least, are friends,
+and more than friends. I cannot exist unless we meet, and meet with
+the frankness of old days.'
+
+'I think you mistake mamma; I think you may, indeed. Remember how
+lately she has met you, and after how long an interval! A little time,
+and she will resume her former feelings, and believe that you have
+never forfeited yours. Besides, we have friends, mutual friends. My
+aunt admires you, and here I naturally must be a great deal. And the
+Bishop, he still loves you; that I am sure he does: and your cousin,
+mamma likes your cousin. I am sure if you can manage only to be
+patient, if you will only attempt to conciliate a little, all will be
+as before. Remember, too, how changed your position is,' Venetia added
+with a smile; 'you allow me to forget you are a great man, but mamma
+is naturally restrained by all this wonderful revolution. When she
+finds that you really are the Lord Cadurcis whom she knew such a very
+little boy, the Lord Cadurcis who, without her aid, would never have
+been able even to write his fine poems, oh! she must love you again.
+How can she help it?'
+
+Cadurcis smiled. 'We shall see,' he said. 'In the meantime do not you
+desert me, Venetia.'
+
+'That is impossible,' she replied; 'the happiest of my days have been
+passed with you. You remember the inscription on the jewel? I shall
+keep to my vows.'
+
+'That was a very good inscription so far as it went,' said Cadurcis;
+and then, as if a little alarmed at his temerity, he changed the
+subject.
+
+'Do you know,' said Venetia, after a pause, 'I am treating you all
+this time as a poet, merely in deference to public opinion. Not a line
+have I been permitted to read; but I am resolved to rebel, and you
+must arrange it all.'
+
+'Ah!' said the enraptured Cadurcis; 'this is fame!'
+
+At this moment the Countess approached them, and told Venetia that
+her mother wished to speak to her. Lady Annabel had discovered the
+tête-à-tête, and resolved instantly to terminate it. Lord Cadurcis,
+however, who was quick as lightning, read all that was necessary in
+Venetia's look. Instead of instantly retiring, he remained some little
+time longer, talked to the Countess, who was perfectly enchanted with
+him, even sauntered up to the singers, and complimented them, and did
+not make his bow until he had convinced at least the mistress of the
+mansion, if not her sister-in-law, that it was not Venetia Herbert who
+was his principal attraction in this agreeable society.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The moment he had quitted Venetia, Lord Cadurcis returned home. He
+could not endure the usual routine of gaiety after her society; and
+his coachman, often waiting until five o'clock in the morning at
+Monteagle House, could scarcely assure himself of his good fortune
+in this exception to his accustomed trial of patience. The vis-à-vis
+stopped, and Lord Cadurcis bounded out with a light step and a lighter
+heart. His table was covered with letters. The first one that caught
+his eye was a missive from Lady Monteagle. Cadurcis seized it like a
+wild animal darting on its prey, tore it in half without opening it,
+and, grasping the poker, crammed it with great energy into the fire.
+This exploit being achieved, Cadurcis began walking up and down the
+room; and indeed he paced it for nearly a couple of hours in a deep
+reverie, and evidently under a considerable degree of excitement, for
+his gestures were violent, and his voice often audible. At length,
+about an hour after midnight, he rang for his valet, tore off his
+cravat, and hurled it to one corner of the apartment, called for his
+robe de chambre, soda water, and more lights, seated himself, and
+began pouring forth, faster almost than his pen could trace the words,
+the poem that he had been meditating ever since he had quitted the
+roof where he had met Venetia. She had expressed a wish to read his
+poems; he had resolved instantly to compose one for her solitary
+perusal Thus he relieved his heart:
+
+  I.
+
+  Within a cloistered pile, whose Gothic towers
+  Rose by the margin of a sedgy lake,
+  Embosomed in a valley of green bowers,
+  And girt by many a grove and ferny brake
+  Loved by the antlered deer, a tender youth
+  Whom Time to childhood's gentle sway of love
+  Still spared; yet innocent as is the dove,
+  Nor mounded yet by Care's relentless tooth;
+  Stood musing, of that fair antique domain
+  The orphan lord! And yet, no childish thought
+  With wayward purpose holds its transient reign
+  In his young mind, with deeper feelings fraught;
+  Then mystery all to him, and yet a dream,
+  That Time has touched with its revealing beam.
+
+  II.
+
+  There came a maiden to that lonely boy,
+  And like to him as is the morn to night;
+  Her sunny face a very type of joy,
+  And with her soul's unclouded lustre bright.
+  Still scantier summers had her brow illumed
+  Than that on which she threw a witching smile,
+  Unconscious of the spell that could beguile
+  His being of the burthen it was doomed
+  By his ancestral blood to bear: a spirit,
+  Rife with desponding thoughts and fancies drear,
+  A moody soul that men sometimes inherit,
+  And worse than all the woes the world may bear.
+  But when he met that maiden's dazzling eye,
+  He bade each gloomy image baffled fly.
+
+  III.
+
+  Amid the shady woods and sunny lawns
+  The maiden and the youth now wander, gay
+  As the bright birds, and happy as the fawns,
+  Their sportive rivals, that around them play;
+  Their light hands linked in love, the golden hours
+  Unconscious fly, while thus they graceful roam,
+  And careless ever till the voice of home
+  Recalled them from their sunshine find their flowers;
+  For then they parted: to his lonely pile
+  The orphan-chief, for though his woe to lull,
+  The maiden called him brother, her fond smile
+  Gladdened another hearth, while his was dull
+  Yet as they parted, she reproved his sadness,
+  And for his sake she gaily whispered gladness.
+
+  IV.
+
+  She was the daughter of a noble race,
+  That beauteous girl, and yet she owed her name
+  To one who needs no herald's skill to trace
+  His blazoned lineage, for his lofty fame
+  Lives in the mouth of men, and distant climes
+  Re-echo his wide glory; where the brave
+  Are honoured, where 'tis noble deemed to save
+  A prostrate nation, and for future times
+  Work with a high devotion, that no taunt,
+  Or ribald lie, or zealot's eager curse,
+  Or the short-sighted world's neglect can daunt,
+  That name is worshipped! His immortal verse
+  Blends with his god-like deeds, a double spell
+  To bind the coming age he loved too well!
+
+  V.
+
+  For, from his ancient home, a scatterling,
+  They drove him forth, unconscious of their prize,
+  And branded as a vile unhallowed thing,
+  The man who struggled only to be wise.
+  And even his hearth rebelled, the duteous wife,
+  Whose bosom well might soothe in that dark hour,
+  Swelled with her gentle force the world's harsh power,
+  And aimed her dart at his devoted life.
+  That struck; the rest his mighty soul might scorn,
+  But when his household gods averted stood,
+  'Twas the last pang that cannot well be borne
+  When tortured e'en to torpor: his heart's blood
+  Flowed to the unseen blow: then forth he went,
+  And gloried in his ruthless banishment.
+
+  VI.
+
+  A new-born pledge of love within his home,
+  His alien home, the exiled father left;
+  And when, like Cain, he wandered forth to roam,
+  A Cain without his solace, all bereft,
+  Stole down his pallid cheek the scalding tear,
+  To think a stranger to his tender love
+  His child must grow, untroubled where might rove
+  His restless life, or taught perchance to fear
+  Her father's name, and bred in sullen hate,
+  Shrink from his image. Thus the gentle maid,
+  Who with her smiles had soothed an orphan's fate,
+  Had felt an orphan's pang; yet undismayed,
+  Though taught to deem her sire the child of shame,
+  She clung with instinct to that reverent name!
+
+  VII.
+
+  Time flew; the boy became a man; no more
+  His shadow falls upon his cloistered hall,
+  But to a stirring world he learn'd to pour
+  The passion of his being, skilled to call
+  From the deep caverns of his musing thought
+  Shadows to which they bowed, and on their mind
+  To stamp the image of his own; the wind,
+  Though all unseen, with force or odour fraught,
+  Can sway mankind, and thus a poet's voice,
+  Now touched with sweetness, now inflamed with rage,
+  Though breath, can make us grieve and then rejoice:
+  Such is the spell of his creative page,
+  That blends with all our moods; and thoughts can yield
+  That all have felt, and yet till then were sealed.
+
+  VIII.
+
+  The lute is sounding in a chamber bright
+  With a high festival; on every side,
+  Soft in the gleamy blaze of mellowed light,
+  Fair women smile, and dancers graceful glide;
+  And words still sweeter than a serenade
+  Are breathed with guarded voice and speaking eyes,
+  By joyous hearts in spite of all their sighs;
+  But byegone fantasies that ne'er can fade
+  Retain the pensive spirit of the youth;
+  Reclined against a column he surveys
+  His laughing compeers with a glance, in sooth,
+  Careless of all their mirth: for other days
+  Enchain him with their vision, the bright hours
+  Passed with the maiden in their sunny bowers.
+
+  IX.
+
+  Why turns his brow so pale, why starts to life
+  That languid eye? What form before unseen,
+  With all the spells of hallowed memory rife,
+  Now rises on his vision? As the Queen
+  Of Beauty from her bed of sparkling foam
+  Sprang to the azure light, and felt the air,
+  Soft as her cheek, the wavy dancers bear
+  To his rapt sight a mien that calls his home,
+  His cloistered home, before him, with his dreams
+  Prophetic strangely blending. The bright muse
+  Of his dark childhood still divinely beams
+  Upon his being; glowing with the hues
+  That painters love, when raptured pencils soar
+  To trace a form that nations may adore!
+
+  X.
+
+  One word alone, within her thrilling ear,
+  Breathed with hushed voice the brother of her heart,
+  And that for aye is hidden. With a tear
+  Smiling she strove to conquer, see her start,
+  The bright blood rising to her quivering cheek,
+  And meet the glance she hastened once to greet,
+  When not a thought had he, save in her sweet
+  And solacing society; to seek
+  Her smiles his only life! Ah! happy prime
+  Of cloudless purity, no stormy fame
+  His unknown sprite then stirred, a golden time
+  Worth all the restless splendour of a name;
+  And one soft accent from those gentle lips
+  Might all the plaudits of a world eclipse.
+
+  XI.
+
+  My tale is done; and if some deem it strange
+  My fancy thus should droop, deign then to learn
+  My tale is truth: imagination's range
+  Its bounds exact may touch not: to discern
+  Far stranger things than poets ever feign,
+  In life's perplexing annals, is the fate
+  Of those who act, and musing, penetrate
+  The mystery of Fortune: to whose reign
+  The haughtiest brow must bend; 'twas passing strange
+  The youth of these fond children; strange the flush
+  Of his high fortunes and his spirit's change;
+  Strange was the maiden's tear, the maiden's blush;
+  Strange were his musing thoughts and trembling heart,
+  'Tis strange they met, and stranger if they part!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered, which she did a very few hours after
+the mortifying event, where Lord Cadurcis had dined the day on which
+he had promised to be her guest, she was very indignant, but her
+vanity was more offended than her self-complacency. She was annoyed
+that Cadurcis should have compromised his exalted reputation by so
+publicly dangling in the train of the new beauty: still more that he
+should have signified in so marked a manner the impression which the
+fair stranger had made upon him, by instantly accepting an invitation
+to a house so totally unconnected with his circle, and where, had it
+not been to meet this Miss Herbert, it would of course never have
+entered his head to be a visitor. But, on the whole, Lady Monteagle
+was rather irritated than jealous; and far from suspecting that there
+was the slightest chance of her losing her influence, such as it might
+be, over Lord Cadurcis, all that she felt was, that less lustre must
+redound to her from its possession and exercise, if it were obvious
+to the world that his attentions could be so easily attracted and
+commanded.
+
+When Lord Cadurcis, therefore, having dispatched his poem to Venetia,
+paid his usual visit on the next day to Monteagle House, he was
+received rather with sneers than reproaches, as Lady Monteagle, with
+no superficial knowledge of society or his lordship's character,
+was clearly of opinion that this new fancy of her admirer was to be
+treated rather with ridicule than indignation; and, in short, as she
+had discovered that Cadurcis was far from being insensible to mockery,
+that it was clearly a fit occasion, to use a phrase then very much in
+vogue, for _quizzing_.
+
+'How d'ye do?' said her ladyship, with an arch smile, 'I really could
+not expect to see you!'
+
+Cadurcis looked a little confused; he detested scenes, and now he
+dreaded one.
+
+'You seem quite distrait,' continued Lady Monteagle, after a moment's
+pause, which his lordship ought to have broken. 'But no wonder, if the
+world be right.'
+
+'The world cannot be wrong,' said Cadurcis sarcastically.
+
+'Had you a pleasant party yesterday?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'Lady ---- must have been quite charmed to have you at last,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'I suppose she exhibited you to all her friends, as if you
+were one of the savages that went to Court the other day.'
+
+'She was courteous.'
+
+'Oh! I can fancy her flutter! For my part, if there be one character
+in the world more odious than another, I think it is a fussy woman.
+Lady ----, with Lord Cadurcis dining with her, and the new beauty for a
+niece, must have been in a most delectable state of bustle.'
+
+'I thought she was rather quiet,' said her companion with provoking
+indifference. 'She seemed to me an agreeable person.'
+
+'I suppose you mean Miss Herbert?' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Oh! these are moderate expressions to use in reference to a person
+like Miss Herbert.'
+
+'You know what they said of you two at Ranelagh?' said her ladyship.
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis, somewhat changing colour, and speaking
+through his teeth; 'something devilish pleasant, I dare say.'
+
+'They call you Sedition and Treason,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Then we are well suited,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'She certainly is a beautiful creature,' said her ladyship.
+
+'I think so,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Rather too tall, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Beautiful complexion certainly; wants delicacy, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Fine eyes! Grey, I believe. Cannot say I admire grey eyes. Certain
+sign of bad temper, I believe, grey eyes?'
+
+'Are they?'
+
+'I did not observe her hand. I dare say a little coarse. Fair people
+who are tall generally fail in the hand and arm. What sort of a hand
+and arm has she?'
+
+'I did not observe anything coarse about Miss Herbert.'
+
+'Ah! you admire her. And you have cause. No one can deny she is a fine
+girl, and every one must regret, that with her decidedly provincial
+air and want of style altogether, which might naturally be expected,
+considering the rustic way I understand she has been brought up (an
+old house in the country, with a methodistical mother), that she
+should have fallen into such hands as her aunt. Lady ---- is enough to
+spoil any girl's fortune in London.'
+
+'I thought that the ---- were people of high consideration,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Consideration!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'If you mean that they are
+people of rank, and good blood, and good property, they are certainly
+people of consideration; but they are Goths, Vandals, Huns, Calmucks,
+Canadian savages! They have no fashion, no style, no ton, no influence
+in the world. It is impossible that a greater misfortune could have
+befallen your beauty than having such an aunt. Why, no man who has the
+slightest regard for his reputation would be seen in her company. She
+is a regular quiz, and you cannot imagine how everybody was laughing
+at you the other night.'
+
+'I am very much obliged to them,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And, upon my honour,' continued Lady Monteagle, 'speaking merely as
+your friend, and not being the least jealous (Cadurcis do not suppose
+that), not a twinge has crossed my mind on that score; but still I
+must tell you that it was most ridiculous for a man like you, to
+whom everybody looks up, and from whom the slightest attention is
+an honour, to go and fasten yourself the whole night upon a rustic
+simpleton, something between a wax doll and a dairymaid, whom every
+fool in London was staring at; the very reason why you should not have
+appeared to have been even aware of her existence.'
+
+'We have all our moments of weakness, Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+charmed that the lady was so thoroughly unaware and unsuspicious of
+his long and intimate connection with the Herberts. 'I suppose it was
+my cursed vanity. I saw, as you say, every fool staring at her, and
+so I determined to show that in an instant I could engross her
+attention.'
+
+'Of course, I know it was only that; but you should not have gone
+and dined there, Cadurcis,' added the lady, very seriously, 'That
+compromised you; but, by cutting them in future in the most marked
+manner, you may get over it.'
+
+'You really think I may?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, with some anxiety.
+
+'Oh! I have no doubt of it,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'What it is to have a friend like you, Gertrude,' said Cadurcis, 'a
+friend who is neither a Goth, nor a Vandal, nor a Hun, nor a Calmuck,
+nor a Canadian savage; but a woman of fashion, style, ton, influence
+in the world! It is impossible that a greater piece of good fortune
+could have befallen me than having you for a friend.'
+
+'Ah, méchant! you may mock,' said the lady, triumphantly, for she was
+quite satisfied with the turn the conversation had taken; 'but I am
+glad for your sake that you take such a sensible view of the case.'
+
+Notwithstanding, however, this sensible view of the case, after
+lounging an hour at Monteagle House, Lord Cadurcis' carriage stopped
+at the door of Venetia's Gothic aunt. He was not so fortunate as
+to meet his heroine; but, nevertheless, he did not esteem his time
+entirely thrown away, and consoled himself for the disappointment
+by confirming the favourable impression he had already made in this
+establishment, and cultivating an intimacy which he was assured must
+contribute many opportunities of finding himself in the society
+of Venetia. From this day, indeed, he was a frequent guest at her
+uncle's, and generally contrived also to meet her several times in
+the week at some great assembly; but here, both from the occasional
+presence of Lady Monteagle, although party spirit deterred her from
+attending many circles where Cadurcis was now an habitual visitant,
+and from the crowd of admirers who surrounded the Herberts, he rarely
+found an opportunity for any private conversation with Venetia.
+His friend the Bishop also, notwithstanding the prejudices of Lady
+Annabel, received him always with cordiality, and he met the Herberts
+more than once at his mansion. At the opera and in the park also he
+hovered about them, in spite of the sarcasms or reproaches of Lady
+Monteagle; for the reader is not to suppose that that lady continued
+to take the same self-complacent view of Lord Cadurcis' acquaintance
+with the Herberts which she originally adopted, and at first flattered
+herself was the just one. His admiration of Miss Herbert had become
+the topic of general conversation; it could no longer be concealed or
+disguised. But Lady Monteagle was convinced that Cadurcis was not a
+marrying man, and persuaded herself that this was a fancy which must
+evaporate. Moreover, Monteagle House still continued his spot of most
+constant resort; for his opportunities of being with Venetia were,
+with all his exertions, limited, and he had no other resource which
+pleased him so much as the conversation and circle of the bright
+goddess of his party. After some fiery scenes therefore with the
+divinity, which only led to his prolonged absence, for the profound
+and fervent genius of Cadurcis revolted from the base sentiment and
+mock emotions of society, the lady reconciled herself to her lot,
+still believing herself the most envied woman in London, and often
+ashamed of being jealous of a country girl.
+
+The general result of the fortnight which elapsed since Cadurcis
+renewed his acquaintance with his Cherbury friends was, that he had
+become convinced of his inability of propitiating Lady Annabel, was
+devotedly attached to Venetia, though he had seldom an opportunity
+of intimating feelings, which the cordial manner in which she ever
+conducted herself to him gave him no reason to conclude desperate; at
+the same time that he had contrived that a day should seldom elapse,
+which did not under some circumstances, however unfavourable, bring
+them together, while her intimate friends and the circles in which she
+passed most of her life always witnessed his presence with favour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+We must, however, endeavour to be more intimately acquainted with
+the heart and mind of Venetia in her present situation, so strongly
+contrasting with the serene simplicity of her former life, than the
+limited and constrained opportunities of conversing with the companion
+of his childhood enjoyed by Lord Cadurcis could possibly enable him to
+become. Let us recur to her on the night when she returned home, after
+having met with Plantagenet at her uncle's, and having pursued a
+conversation with him, so unexpected, so strange, and so affecting!
+She had been silent in the carriage, and retired to her room
+immediately. She retired to ponder. The voice of Cadurcis lingered in
+her ear; his tearful eye still caught her vision. She leant her head
+upon her hand, and sighed! Why did she sigh? What at this instant was
+her uppermost thought? Her mother's dislike of Cadurcis. 'Your mother
+hates me.' These had been his words; these were the words she repeated
+to herself, and on whose fearful sounds she dwelt. 'Your mother hates
+me.' If by some means she had learnt a month ago at Weymouth, that her
+mother hated Cadurcis, that his general conduct had been such as to
+excite Lady Annabel's odium, Venetia might have for a moment
+been shocked that her old companion in whom she had once been so
+interested, had by his irregular behaviour incurred the dislike of her
+mother, by whom he had once been so loved. But it would have been a
+transient emotion. She might have mused over past feelings and past
+hopes in a solitary ramble on the seashore; she might even have shed
+a tear over the misfortunes or infelicity of one who had once been
+to her a brother; but, perhaps, nay probably, on the morrow the
+remembrance of Plantagenet would scarcely have occurred to her.
+Long years had elapsed since their ancient fondness; a considerable
+interval since even his name had met her ear. She had heard nothing
+of him that could for a moment arrest her notice or command her
+attention.
+
+But now the irresistible impression that her mother disliked this very
+individual filled, her with intolerable grief. What occasioned this
+change in her feelings, this extraordinary difference in her emotions?
+There was, apparently, but one cause. She had met Cadurcis. Could then
+a glance, could even the tender intonations of that unrivalled voice,
+and the dark passion of that speaking eye, work in an instant such
+marvels? Could they revive the past so vividly, that Plantagenet in
+a moment resumed his ancient place in her affections? No, it was not
+that: it was less the tenderness of the past that made Venetia mourn
+her mother's sternness to Cadurcis, than the feelings of the future.
+For now she felt that her mother's heart was not more changed towards
+this personage than was her own.
+
+It seemed to Venetia that even before they met, from the very moment
+that his name had so strangely caught her eye in the volume on the
+first evening she had visited her relations, that her spirit suddenly
+turned to him. She had never heard that name mentioned since without
+a fluttering of the heart which she could not repress, and an emotion
+she could ill conceal. She loved to hear others talk of him, and yet
+scarcely dared speak of him herself. She recalled her emotion
+at unexpectedly seeing his portrait when with her aunt, and her
+mortification when her mother deprived her of the poem which she
+sighed to read. Day after day something seemed to have occurred to fix
+her brooding thoughts with fonder earnestness on his image. At length
+they met. Her emotion when she first recognised him at Ranelagh and
+felt him approaching her, was one of those tumults of the heart that
+form almost a crisis in our sensations. With what difficulty had
+she maintained herself! Doubtful whether he would even formally
+acknowledge her presence, her vision as if by fascination had
+nevertheless met his, and grew dizzy as he passed. In the interval
+that had elapsed between his first passing and then joining her, what
+a chaos was her mind! What a wild blending of all the scenes and
+incidents of her life! What random answers had she made to those with
+whom she had been before conversing with ease and animation! And then,
+when she unexpectedly found Cadurcis at her side, and listened to the
+sound of that familiar voice, familiar and yet changed, expressing
+so much tenderness in its tones, and in its words such deference and
+delicate respect, existence felt to her that moment affluent with a
+blissful excitement of which she had never dreamed!
+
+Her life was a reverie until they met again, in which she only mused
+over his fame, and the strange relations of their careers. She had
+watched the conduct of her mother to him at dinner with poignant
+sorrow; she scarcely believed that she should have an opportunity
+of expressing to him her sympathy. And then what had followed?
+A conversation, every word of which had touched her heart; a
+conversation that would have entirely controlled her feelings even if
+he had not already subjected them. The tone in which he so suddenly
+had pronounced 'Venetia,' was the sweetest music to which she had ever
+listened. His allusion to her father had drawn tears, which could not
+be restrained even in a crowded saloon. Now she wept plenteously.
+It was so generous, so noble, so kind, so affectionate! Dear, dear
+Cadurcis, is it wonderful that you should be loved?
+
+Then falling into a reverie of sweet and unbroken stillness, with her
+eyes fixed in abstraction on the fire, Venetia reviewed her life from
+the moment she had known Plantagenet. Not an incident that had ever
+occurred to them that did not rise obedient to her magical bidding.
+She loved to dwell upon the time when she was the consolation of his
+sorrows, and when Cherbury was to him a pleasant refuge! Oh! she felt
+sure her mother must remember those fond days, and love him as she
+once did! She pictured to herself the little Plantagenet of her
+childhood, so serious and so pensive when alone or with others, yet
+with her at times so gay and wild, and sarcastic; forebodings all of
+that deep and brilliant spirit, which had since stirred up the heart
+of a great nation, and dazzled the fancy of an admiring world. The
+change too in their mutual lots was also, to a degree, not free from
+that sympathy that had ever bound them together. A train of strange
+accidents had brought Venetia from her spell-bound seclusion, placed
+her suddenly in the most brilliant circle of civilisation, and classed
+her among not the least admired of its favoured members. And whom had
+she come to meet? Whom did she find in this new and splendid life the
+most courted and considered of its community, crowned as it were with
+garlands, and perfumed with the incense of a thousand altars? Her own
+Plantagenet. It was passing strange.
+
+The morrow brought the verses from Cadurcis. They greatly affected
+her. The picture of their childhood, and of the singular sympathy of
+their mutual situations, and the description of her father, called
+forth her tears; she murmured, however, at the allusion to her other
+parent. It was not just, it could not be true. These verses were not,
+of course, shown to Lady Annabel. Would they have been shown, even if
+they had not contained the allusion? The question is not perplexing.
+Venetia had her secret, and a far deeper one than the mere reception
+of a poem; all confidence between her and her mother had expired. Love
+had stept in, and, before his magic touch, the discipline of a life
+expired in an instant.
+
+From all this an idea may be formed of the mood in which, during the
+fortnight before alluded to, Venetia was in the habit of meeting Lord
+Cadurcis. During this period not the slightest conversation respecting
+him had occurred between her mother and herself. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned him, and her brow clouded when his name, as was often the
+case, was introduced. At the end of this fortnight, it happened that
+her aunt and mother were out together in the carriage, and had left
+her in the course of the morning at her uncle's house. During this
+interval, Lord Cadurcis called, and having ascertained, through a
+garrulous servant, that though his mistress was out, Miss Herbert was
+in the drawing-room, he immediately took the opportunity of being
+introduced. Venetia was not a little surprised at his appearance, and,
+conscious of her mother's feelings upon the subject, for a moment
+a little agitated, yet, it must be confessed, as much pleased. She
+seized this occasion of speaking to him about his verses, for hitherto
+she had only been able to acknowledge the receipt of them by a
+word. While she expressed without affectation the emotions they had
+occasioned her, she complained of his injustice to her mother: this
+was the cause of an interesting conversation of which her father
+was the subject, and for which she had long sighed. With what deep,
+unbroken attention she listened to her companion's enthusiastic
+delineation of his character and career! What multiplied questions did
+she not ask him, and how eagerly, how amply, how affectionately he
+satisfied her just and natural curiosity! Hours flew away while they
+indulged in this rare communion.
+
+'Oh, that I could see him!' sighed Venetia.
+
+'You will,' replied Plantagenet; 'your destiny requires it. You will
+see him as surely as you beheld that portrait that it was the labour
+of a life to prevent you beholding.'
+
+Venetia shook her head; 'And yet,' she added musingly, 'my mother
+loves him.'
+
+'Her life proves it,' said Cadurcis bitterly.
+
+'I think it does,' replied Venetia, sincerely.
+
+'I pretend not to understand her heart,' he answered; 'it is an enigma
+that I cannot solve. I ought not to believe that she is without one;
+but, at any rate, her pride is deeper than her love.'
+
+'They were ill suited,' said Venetia, mournfully; 'and yet it is one
+of my dreams that they may yet meet.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' he exclaimed, in a voice of great softness, 'they had
+not known each other from their childhood, like us. They met, and they
+parted, alike in haste.'
+
+Venetia made no reply; her eyes were fixed in abstraction on a
+handscreen, which she was unconscious that she held.
+
+'Tell me,' said Cadurcis, drawing his chair close to hers; 'tell me,
+Venetia, if--'
+
+At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced the return of
+the Countess and her sister-in-law. Cadurcis rose from his seat, but
+his chair, which still remained close to that on which Venetia was
+sitting, did not escape the quick glance of her mortified mother. The
+Countess welcomed Cadurcis with extreme cordiality; Lady Annabel only
+returned his very courteous bow.
+
+'Stop and dine with us, my dear lord,' said the Countess. 'We are only
+ourselves, and Lady Annabel and Venetia.'
+
+'I thank you, Clara,' said Lady Annabel, 'but we cannot stop to-day.'
+
+'Oh!' exclaimed her sister. 'It will be such a disappointment to
+Philip. Indeed you must stay,' she added, in a coaxing tone; 'we shall
+be such an agreeable little party, with Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'I cannot indeed, my dear Clara,' replied Lady Annabel; 'not to-day,
+indeed not to-day. Come Venetia!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Lady Annabel was particularly kind to Venetia on their return to their
+hotel, otherwise her daughter might have fancied that she had offended
+her, for she was silent. Venetia did not doubt that the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis was the reason that her mother would not remain and
+dine at her uncle's. This conviction grieved Venetia, but she did not
+repine; she indulged the fond hope that time would remove the strong
+prejudice which Lady Annabel now so singularly entertained against one
+in whose welfare she was originally so deeply interested. During their
+simple and short repast Venetia was occupied in a reverie, in
+which, it must be owned, Cadurcis greatly figured, and answered the
+occasional though kind remarks of her mother with an absent air.
+
+After dinner, Lady Annabel drew her chair towards the fire, for,
+although May, the weather was chill, and said, 'A quiet evening at
+home, Venetia, will be a relief after all this gaiety.' Venetia
+assented to her mother's observation, and nearly a quarter of an hour
+elapsed without another word being spoken. Venetia had taken up a
+book, and Lady Annabel was apparently lost in her reflections. At
+length she said, somewhat abruptly, 'It is more than three years, I
+think, since Lord Cadurcis left Cherbury?'
+
+'Yes; it is more than three years,' replied Venetia.
+
+'He quitted us suddenly.'
+
+'Very suddenly,' agreed Venetia.
+
+'I never asked you whether you knew the cause, Venetia,' continued her
+mother, 'but I always concluded that you did. I suppose I was not in
+error?'
+
+This was not a very agreeable inquiry. Venetia did not reply to
+it with her previous readiness and indifference. That indeed was
+impossible; but, with her accustomed frankness, after a moment's
+hesitation, she answered, 'Lord Cadurcis never specifically stated the
+cause to me, mamma; indeed I was myself surprised at his departure,
+but some conversation had occurred between us on the very morning he
+quitted Cadurcis, which, on reflection, I could not doubt occasioned
+that departure.'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis preferred his suit to you, Venetia, and you rejected
+him?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is as you believe,' replied Venetia, not a little agitated.
+
+'You did wisely, my child, and I was weak ever to have regretted your
+conduct.'
+
+'Why should you think so, dearest mamma?'
+
+'Whatever may have been the cause that impelled your conduct then,'
+said Lady Annabel, 'I shall ever esteem your decision as a signal
+interposition of Providence in your favour. Except his extreme youth,
+there was apparently no reason which should not have induced you to
+adopt a different decision. I tremble when I think what might have
+been the consequences.'
+
+'Tremble, dearest mother?'
+
+'Tremble, Venetia. My only thought in this life is the happiness of my
+child. It was in peril.
+
+'Nay, I trust not that, mamma: you are prejudiced against Plantagenet.
+It makes me very unhappy, and him also.'
+
+'He is again your suitor?' said Lady Annabel, with a scrutinising
+glance.
+
+'Indeed he is not.'
+
+'He will be,' said Lady Annabel. 'Prepare yourself. Tell me, then, are
+your feelings the same towards him as when he last quitted us?'
+
+'Feelings, mamma!' said Venetia, echoing her mother's words; for
+indeed the question was one very difficult to answer; 'I ever loved
+Plantagenet; I love him still.'
+
+'But do you love him now as then? Then you looked upon him as a
+brother. He has no soul now for sisterly affections. I beseech you
+tell me, my child, me, your mother, your friend, your best, your only
+friend, tell me, have you for a moment repented that you ever refused
+to extend to him any other affection?'
+
+'I have not thought of the subject, mamma; I have not wished to think
+of the subject; I have had no occasion to think of it. Lord Cadurcis
+is not my suitor now.'
+
+'Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, 'I cannot doubt you love me.'
+
+'Dearest mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in a tone of mingled fondness and
+reproach, and she rose from her seat and embraced Lady Annabel.
+
+'My happiness is an object to you, Venetia?' continued Lady Annabel.
+
+'Mother, mother,' said Venetia, in a deprecatory tone. 'Do not ask
+such cruel questions? Whom should I love but you, the best, the
+dearest mother that ever existed? And what object can I have in life
+that for a moment can be placed in competition with your happiness?'
+
+'Then, Venetia, I tell you,' said Lady Annabel, in a solemn yet
+excited voice, 'that that happiness is gone for ever, nay, my very
+life will be the forfeit, if I ever live to see you the bride of Lord
+Cadurcis.'
+
+'I have no thought of being the bride of any one,' said Venetia. 'I am
+happy with you. I wish never to leave you.'
+
+'My child, the fulfilment of such a wish is not in the nature of
+things,' replied Lady Annabel. 'The day will come when we must part;
+I am prepared for the event; nay, I look forward to it not only with
+resignation, but delight, when I think it may increase your happiness;
+but were that step to destroy it, oh! then, then I could live no more.
+I can endure my own sorrows, I can struggle with my own bitter lot,
+I have some sources of consolation which enable me to endure my own
+misery without repining; but yours, yours, Venetia, I could not bear.
+No! if once I were to behold you lingering in life as your mother,
+with blighted hopes and with a heart broken, if hearts can break, I
+should not survive the spectacle; I know myself, Venetia, I could not
+survive it.'
+
+'But why anticipate such misery? Why indulge in such gloomy
+forebodings? Am I not happy now? Do you not love me?'
+
+Venetia had drawn her chair close to that of her mother; she sat by
+her side and held her hand.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, after a pause of some minutes, and in a
+low voice, 'I must speak to you on a subject on which we have never
+conversed. I must speak to you;' and here Lady Annabel's voice dropped
+lower and lower, but still its tones were distinct, although
+she expressed herself with evident effort: 'I must speak to you
+about--your father.'
+
+Venetia uttered a faint cry, she clenched her mother's hand with a
+convulsive grasp, and sank upon her bosom. She struggled to maintain
+herself, but the first sound of that name from her mother's lips, and
+all the long-suppressed emotions that it conjured up, overpowered her.
+The blood seemed to desert her heart; still she did not faint; she
+clung to Lady Annabel, pallid and shivering.
+
+Her mother tenderly embraced her, she whispered to her words of great
+affection, she attempted to comfort and console her. Venetia murmured,
+'This is very foolish of me, mother; but speak, oh! speak of what I
+have so long desired to hear.'
+
+'Not now, Venetia.'
+
+'Now, mother! yes, now! I am quite composed. I could not bear the
+postponement of what you were about to say. I could not sleep, dear
+mother, if you did not speak to me. It was only for a moment I was
+overcome. See! I am quite composed.' And indeed she spoke in a calm
+and steady voice, but her pale and suffering countenance expressed the
+painful struggle which it cost her to command herself.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'it has been one of the objects of my
+life, that you should not share my sorrows.'
+
+Venetia pressed her mother's hand, but made no other reply.
+
+'I concealed from you for years,' continued Lady Annabel, 'a
+circumstance in which, indeed, you were deeply interested, but the
+knowledge of which could only bring you unhappiness. Yet it was
+destined that my solicitude should eventually be baffled. I know that
+it is not from my lips that you learn for the first time that you have
+a father, a father living.'
+
+'Mother, let me tell you all!' said Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'I know all,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'But, mother, there is something that you do not know; and now I would
+confess it.'
+
+'There is nothing that you can confess with which I am not acquainted,
+Venetia; and I feel assured, I have ever felt assured, that your only
+reason for concealment was a desire to save me pain.'
+
+'That, indeed, has ever been my only motive,' replied Venetia, 'for
+having a secret from my mother.'
+
+'In my absence from Cherbury you entered the chamber,' said Lady
+Annabel, calmly. 'In the delirium of your fever I became acquainted
+with a circumstance which so nearly proved fatal to you.'
+
+Venetia's cheek turned scarlet.
+
+'In that chamber you beheld the portrait of your father,' continued
+Lady Annabel. 'From our friend you learnt that father was still
+living. That is all?' said Lady Annabel, inquiringly.
+
+'No, not all, dear mother; not all. Lord Cadurcis reproached me at
+Cherbury with, with, with having such a father,' she added, in a
+hesitating voice. 'It was then I learnt his misfortunes, mother; his
+misery.'
+
+'I thought that misfortunes, that misery, were the lot of your other
+parent,' replied Lady Annabel, somewhat coldly.
+
+'Not with my love,' said Venetia, eagerly; 'not with my love, mother.
+You have forgotten your misery in my love. Say so, say so, dearest
+mother.' And Venetia threw herself on her knees before Lady Annabel,
+and looked up with earnestness in her face.
+
+The expression of that countenance had been for a moment stern, but
+it relaxed into fondness, as Lady Annabel gently bowed her head, and
+pressed her lips to her daughter's forehead. 'Ah, Venetia!' she said,
+'all depends upon you. I can endure, nay, I can forget the past, if my
+child be faithful to me. There are no misfortunes, there is no misery,
+if the being to whom I have consecrated the devotion of my life will
+only be dutiful, will only be guided by my advice, will only profit by
+my sad experience.'
+
+'Mother, I repeat I have no thought but for you,' said Venetia. 'My
+own dearest mother, if my duty, if my devotion can content you, you
+shall be happy. But wherein have I failed?'
+
+'In nothing, love. Your life has hitherto been one unbroken course of
+affectionate obedience.'
+
+'And ever shall be,' said Venetia. 'But you were speaking, mother, you
+were speaking of, of my, my father!'
+
+'Of him!' said Lady Annabel, thoughtfully. 'You have seen his
+picture?'
+
+Venetia kissed her mother's hand.
+
+'Was he less beautiful than Cadurcis? Was he less gifted?' exclaimed
+Lady Annabel, with animation. 'He could whisper in tones as sweet, and
+pour out his vows as fervently. Yet what am I? O my child!' continued
+Lady Annabel, 'beware of such beings! They bear within them a spirit
+on which all the devotion of our sex is lavished in vain. A year, no!
+not a year, not one short year! and all my hopes were blighted! O
+Venetia! if your future should be like my bitter past! and it might
+have been, and I might have contributed to the fulfilment! can you
+wonder that I should look upon Cadurcis with aversion?'
+
+'But, mother, dearest mother, we have known Plantagenet from his
+childhood. You ever loved him; you ever gave him credit for a heart,
+most tender and affectionate.'
+
+'He has no heart.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'He cannot have a heart. Spirits like him are heartless. It is another
+impulse that sways their existence. It is imagination; it is vanity;
+it is self, disguised with glittering qualities that dazzle our weak
+senses, but selfishness, the most entire, the most concentrated. We
+knew him as a child: ah! what can women know? We are born to love, and
+to be deceived. We saw him young, helpless, abandoned; he moved our
+pity. We knew not his nature; then he was ignorant of it himself. But
+the young tiger, though cradled at our hearths and fed on milk, will
+in good time retire to its jungle and prey on blood. You cannot change
+its nature; and the very hand that fostered it will be its first
+victim.'
+
+'How often have we parted!' said Venetia, in a deprecating tone; 'how
+long have we been separated! and yet we find him ever the same; he
+ever loves us. Yes! dear mother, he loves you now, the same as in old
+days. If you had seen him, as I have seen him, weep when he recalled
+your promise to be a parent to him, and then contrasted with such
+sweet hopes your present reserve, oh! you would believe he had a
+heart, you would, indeed!'
+
+'Weep!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, bitterly, 'ay! they can weep.
+Sensibility is a luxury which they love to indulge. Their very
+susceptibility is our bane. They can weep; they can play upon our
+feelings; and our emotion, so easily excited, is an homage to their
+own power, in which they glory.
+
+'Look at Cadurcis,' she suddenly resumed; 'bred with so much care;
+the soundest principles instilled into him with such sedulousness;
+imbibing them apparently with so much intelligence, ardour, and
+sincerity, with all that fervour, indeed, with which men of his
+temperament for the moment pursue every object; but a few years back,
+pious, dutiful, and moral, viewing perhaps with intolerance too
+youthful all that differed from the opinions and the conduct he had
+been educated to admire and follow. And what is he now? The most
+lawless of the wild; casting to the winds every salutary principle of
+restraint and social discipline, and glorying only in the abandoned
+energy of self. Three years ago, you yourself confessed to me, he
+reproached you with your father's conduct; now he emulates it. There
+is a career which such men must run, and from which no influence can
+divert them; it is in their blood. To-day Cadurcis may vow to you
+eternal devotion; but, if the world speak truth, Venetia, a month ago
+he was equally enamoured of another, and one, too, who cannot be his.
+But grant that his sentiments towards you are for the moment sincere;
+his imagination broods upon your idea, it transfigures it with a halo
+which exists only to his vision. Yield to him; become his bride; and
+you will have the mortification of finding that, before six mouths
+have elapsed, his restless spirit is already occupied with objects
+which may excite your mortification, your disgust, even your horror!'
+
+'Ah, mother! it is not with Plantagenet as with my father; Plantagenet
+could not forget Cherbury, he could not forget our childhood,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'On the contrary, while you lived together these recollections would
+be wearisome, common-place to him; when you had separated, indeed,
+mellowed by distance, and the comparative vagueness with which your
+absence would invest them, they would become the objects of his muse,
+and he would insult you by making the public the confidant of all your
+most delicate domestic feelings.'
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat, and walked up and down the room,
+speaking with an excitement very unusual with her. 'To have all
+the soft secrets of your life revealed to the coarse wonder of the
+gloating multitude; to find yourself the object of the world's
+curiosity, still worse, their pity, their sympathy; to have the sacred
+conduct of your hearth canvassed in every circle, and be the grand
+subject of the pros and cons of every paltry journal, ah, Venetia! you
+know not, you cannot understand, it is impossible you can comprehend,
+the bitterness of such a lot.'
+
+'My beloved mother!' said Venetia, with streaming eyes, 'you cannot
+have a feeling that I do not share.'
+
+'Venetia, you know not what I had to endure!' exclaimed Lady Annabel,
+in a tone of extreme bitterness. 'There is no degree of wretchedness
+that you can conceive equal to what has been the life of your mother.
+And what has sustained me; what, throughout all my tumultuous
+troubles, has been the star on which I have ever gazed? My child! And
+am I to lose her now, after all my sufferings, all my hopes that she
+at least might be spared my miserable doom? Am I to witness her also a
+victim?' Lady Annabel clasped her hands in passionate grief.
+
+'Mother! mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in agony, 'spare yourself, spare
+me!'
+
+'Venetia, you know how I have doted upon you; you know how I have
+watched and tended you from your infancy. Have I had a thought, a
+wish, a hope, a plan? has there been the slightest action of my life,
+of which you have not been the object? All mothers feel, but none ever
+felt like me; you were my solitary joy.'
+
+Venetia leant her face upon the table at which she was sitting and
+sobbed aloud.
+
+'My love was baffled,' Lady Annabel continued. 'I fled, for both our
+sakes, from the world in which my family were honoured; I sacrificed
+without a sigh, in the very prime of my youth, every pursuit which
+interests woman; but I had my child, I had my child!'
+
+'And you have her still!' exclaimed the miserable Venetia. 'Mother,
+you have her still!'
+
+'I have schooled my mind,' continued Lady Annabel, still pacing the
+room with agitated steps; 'I have disciplined my emotions; I have felt
+at my heart the constant the undying pang, and yet I have smiled, that
+you might be happy. But I can struggle against my fate no longer. No
+longer can I suffer my unparalleled, yes, my unjust doom. What have I
+done to merit these afflictions? Now, then, let me struggle no more;
+let me die!'
+
+Venetia tried to rise; her limbs refused their office; she tottered;
+she fell again into her seat with an hysteric cry.
+
+'Alas! alas!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, 'to a mother, a child is
+everything; but to a child, a parent is only a link in the chain of
+her existence. It was weakness, it was folly, it was madness to stake
+everything on a resource which must fail me. I feel it now, but I feel
+it too late.'
+
+Venetia held forth her arms; she could not speak; she was stifled with
+her emotion.
+
+'But was it wonderful that I was so weak?' continued her mother, as it
+were communing only with herself. 'What child was like mine? Oh! the
+joy, the bliss, the hours of rapture that I have passed, in gazing
+upon my treasure, and dreaming of all her beauty and her rare
+qualities! I was so happy! I was so proud! Ah, Venetia! you know not
+how I have loved you!'
+
+Venetia sprang from her seat; she rushed forward with convulsive
+energy; she clung to her mother, threw her arms round her neck, and
+buried her passionate woe in Lady Annabel's bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel stood for some minutes supporting her speechless and
+agitated child; then, as her sobs became fainter, and the tumult of
+her grief gradually died away, she bore her to the sofa, and seated
+herself by her side, holding Venetia's hand in her own, and ever and
+anon soothing her with soft embraces, and still softer words.
+
+At length, in a faint voice, Venetia said, 'Mother, what can I do to
+restore the past? How can we be to each other as we were, for this I
+cannot bear?'
+
+'Love me, my Venetia, as I love you; be faithful to your mother; do
+not disregard her counsel; profit by her errors.'
+
+'I will in all things obey you,' said Venetia, in a low voice; 'there
+is no sacrifice I am not prepared to make for your happiness.'
+
+'Let us not talk of sacrifices, my darling child; it is not a
+sacrifice that I require. I wish only to prevent your everlasting
+misery.'
+
+'What, then, shall I do?'
+
+'Make me only one promise; whatever pledge you give, I feel assured
+that no influence, Venetia, will ever induce you to forfeit it.'
+
+'Name it, mother.'
+
+'Promise me never to marry Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+whisper, but a whisper of which not a word was lost by the person to
+whom it was addressed.
+
+'I promise never to marry, but with your approbation,' said Venetia,
+in a solemn voice, and uttering the words with great distinctness.
+
+The countenance of Lady Annabel instantly brightened; she embraced her
+child with extreme fondness, and breathed the softest and the sweetest
+expressions of gratitude and love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered that of which her good-natured friends
+took care she should not long remain ignorant, that Venetia Herbert
+had been the companion of Lord Cadurcis' childhood, and that the most
+intimate relations had once subsisted between the two families,
+she became the prey of violent jealousy; and the bitterness of her
+feelings was not a little increased, when she felt that she had not
+only been abandoned, but duped; and that the new beauty, out of his
+fancy for whom she had flattered herself she had so triumphantly
+rallied him, was an old friend, whom he always admired. She seized the
+first occasion, after this discovery, of relieving her feelings, by
+a scene so violent, that Cadurcis had never again entered Monteagle
+House; and then repenting of this mortifying result, which she had
+herself precipitated, she overwhelmed him with letters, which, next
+to scenes, were the very things which Lord Cadurcis most heartily
+abhorred. These, now indignant, now passionate, now loading him with
+reproaches, now appealing to his love, and now to his pity, daily
+arrived at his residence, and were greeted at first only with short
+and sarcastic replies, and finally by silence. Then the lady solicited
+a final interview, and Lord Cadurcis having made an appointment to
+quiet her, went out of town the day before to Richmond, to a villa
+belonging to Venetia's uncle, and where, among other guests, he was of
+course to meet Lady Annabel and her daughter.
+
+The party was a most agreeable one, and assumed an additional interest
+with Cadurcis, who had resolved to seize this favourable opportunity
+to bring his aspirations to Venetia to a crisis. The day after the
+last conversation with her, which we have noticed, he had indeed
+boldly called upon the Herberts at their hotel for that purpose, but
+without success, as they were again absent from home. He had been
+since almost daily in the society of Venetia; but London, to a lover
+who is not smiled upon by the domestic circle of his mistress, is a
+very unfavourable spot for confidential conversations. A villa life,
+with its easy, unembarrassed habits, its gardens and lounging walks,
+to say nothing of the increased opportunities resulting from being
+together at all hours, and living under the same roof, was more
+promising; and here he flattered himself he might defy even the Argus
+eye and ceaseless vigilance of his intended mother-in-law, his enemy,
+whom he could not propitiate, and whom he now fairly hated.
+
+His cousin George, too, was a guest, and his cousin George was the
+confidant of his love. Upon this kind relation devolved the duty, far
+from a disagreeable one, of amusing the mother; and as Lady Annabel,
+though she relaxed not a jot of the grim courtesy which she ever
+extended to Lord Cadurcis, was no longer seriously uneasy as to his
+influence after the promise she had exacted from her daughter, it
+would seem that these circumstances combined to prevent Lord Cadurcis
+from being disappointed at least in the first object which he wished
+to obtain, an opportunity.
+
+And yet several days elapsed before this offered itself, passed by
+Cadurcis, however, very pleasantly in the presence of the being he
+loved, and very judiciously too, for no one could possibly be more
+amiable and ingratiating than our friend. Every one present, except
+Lady Annabel, appeared to entertain for him as much affection as
+admiration: those who had only met him in throngs were quite surprised
+how their superficial observation and the delusive reports of the
+world had misled them. As for his hostess, whom it had ever been his
+study to please, he had long won her heart; and, as she could not
+be blind to his projects and pretensions, she heartily wished him
+success, assisted him with all her efforts, and desired nothing more
+sincerely than that her niece should achieve such a conquest, and she
+obtain so distinguished a nephew.
+
+Notwithstanding her promise to her mother, Venetia felt justified in
+making no alteration in her conduct to one whom she still sincerely
+loved; and, under the immediate influence of his fascination, it was
+often, when she was alone, that she mourned with a sorrowing heart
+over the opinion which her mother entertained of him. Could it indeed
+be possible that Plantagenet, the same Plantagenet she had known so
+early and so long, to her invariably so tender and so devoted, could
+entail on her, by their union, such unspeakable and inevitable misery?
+Whatever might be the view adopted by her mother of her conduct,
+Venetia felt every hour more keenly that it was a sacrifice, and the
+greatest; and she still indulged in a vague yet delicious dream,
+that Lady Annabel might ultimately withdraw the harsh and perhaps
+heart-breaking interdict she had so rigidly decreed.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said his cousin to him one morning, 'we are all going
+to Hampton Court. Now is your time; Lady Annabel, the Vernons, and
+myself, will fill one carriage; I have arranged that. Look out, and
+something may be done. Speak to the Countess.'
+
+Accordingly Lord Cadurcis hastened to make a suggestion to a friend
+always flattered by his notice. 'My dear friend,' he said in his
+softest tone, 'let you and Venetia and myself manage to be together;
+it will be so delightful; we shall quite enjoy ourselves.'
+
+The Countess did not require this animating compliment to effect the
+object which Cadurcis did not express. She had gradually fallen
+into the unacknowledged conspiracy against her sister-in-law, whose
+prejudice against her friend she had long discovered, and had now
+ceased to combat. Two carriages, and one filled as George had
+arranged, accordingly drove gaily away; and Venetia, and her aunt, and
+Lord Cadurcis were to follow them on horseback. They rode with delight
+through the splendid avenues of Bushey, and Cadurcis was never in a
+lighter or happier mood.
+
+The month of May was in its decline, and the cloudless sky and the
+balmy air such as suited so agreeable a season. The London season was
+approaching its close; for the royal birthday was, at the period of
+our history, generally the signal of preparation for country quarters.
+The carriages arrived long before the riding party, for they had
+walked their steeds, and they found a messenger who requested them to
+join their friends in the apartments which they were visiting.
+
+'For my part,' said Cadurcis, 'I love the sun that rarely shines in
+this land. I feel no inclination to lose the golden hours in these
+gloomy rooms. What say you, ladies fair, to a stroll in the gardens?
+It will be doubly charming after our ride.'
+
+His companions cheerfully assented, and they walked away,
+congratulating themselves on their escape from the wearisome amusement
+of palace-hunting, straining their eyes to see pictures hung at a
+gigantic height, and solemnly wandering through formal apartments full
+of state beds and massy cabinets and modern armour.
+
+Taking their way along the terrace, they struck at length into a less
+formal path. At length the Countess seated herself on a bench. 'I must
+rest,' she said, 'but you, young people, may roam about; only do not
+lose me.'
+
+'Come, Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Venetia was hesitating; she did not like to leave her aunt alone, but
+the Countess encouraged her, 'If you will not go, you will only make
+me continue walking,' she said. And so Venetia proceeded, and for the
+first time since her visit was alone with Plantagenet.
+
+'I quite love your aunt,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is difficult indeed not to love her,' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I wish your mother was like your aunt,' he continued.
+It was an observation which was not heard without some emotion by his
+companion, though it was imperceptible. 'Venetia,' said Cadurcis,
+'when I recollect old days, how strange it seems that we now never
+should be alone, but by some mere accident, like this, for instance.'
+
+'It is no use thinking of old days,' said Venetia.
+
+'No use! said Cadurcis. 'I do not like to hear you say that, Venetia.
+Those are some of the least agreeable words that were ever uttered
+by that mouth. I cling to old days; they are my only joy and my only
+hope.'
+
+'They are gone,' said Venetia.
+
+'But may they not return?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, mournfully.
+
+They had walked on to a marble fountain of gigantic proportions and
+elaborate workmanship, an assemblage of divinities and genii, all
+spouting water in fantastic attitudes.
+
+'Old days,' said Plantagenet, 'are like the old fountain at Cadurcis,
+dearer to me than all this modern splendour.'
+
+'The old fountain at Cadurcis,' said Venetia, musingly, and gazing on
+the water with an abstracted air, 'I loved it well!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yet
+not untouched with melancholy, 'dear Venetia, let us return, and
+return together, to that old fountain and those old days!'
+
+Venetia shook her head. 'Ah, Plantagenet!' she exclaimed in a mournful
+voice, 'we must not speak of these things.'
+
+'Why not, Venetia?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Why should we
+be estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; never
+have I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthful
+affection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank.'
+
+'I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury,' said
+Cadurcis. 'Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging the
+same. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now an
+obscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charm
+of my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?'
+
+'Plantagenet,' she replied, in a solemn tone, 'yours I never can be.'
+
+'You do not, then, love me?' said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in a
+voice of great feeling.
+
+'It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'My own Venetia!' said Cadurcis; 'Venetia that I dote on! what does
+this mean? Why, then, will you not be mine?'
+
+'I cannot; there is an obstacle, an insuperable obstacle.'
+
+'Tell it me,' said Cadurcis eagerly; 'I will overcome it.'
+
+'I have promised never to marry without the approbation of my mother;
+her approbation you never can obtain.'
+
+Cadurcis' countenance fell; this was an obstacle which he felt that
+even he could not overcome.
+
+'I told you your mother hated me, Venetia.' And then, as she did not
+reply, he continued, 'You confess it, I see you confess it. Once you
+flattered me I was mistaken; but now, now you confess it.'
+
+'Hatred is a word which I cannot understand,' replied Venetia. 'My
+mother has reasons for disapproving my union with you; not founded on
+the circumstances of your life, and therefore removable (for I know
+what the world says, Plantagenet, of you), but I have confidence in
+your love, and that is nothing; but founded on your character, on your
+nature; they may be unjust, but they are insuperable, and I must yield
+to them.'
+
+'You have another parent, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of almost
+irresistible softness, 'the best and greatest of men! Once you told me
+that his sanction was necessary to your marriage. I will obtain it.
+O Venetia! be mine, and we will join him; join that ill-fated and
+illustrious being who loves you with a passion second only to mine;
+him who has addressed you in language which rests on every lip, and
+has thrilled many a heart that you even can never know. My adored
+Venetia! picture to yourself, for one moment, a life with him; resting
+on my bosom, consecrated by his paternal love! Let us quit this mean
+and miserable existence, which we now pursue, which never could have
+suited us; let us shun for ever this dull and degrading life, that is
+not life, if life be what I deem it; let us fly to those beautiful
+solitudes where he communes with an inspiring nature; let us, let us
+be happy!'
+
+He uttered these last words in a tone of melting tenderness; he leant
+forward his head, and his gaze caught hers, which was fixed upon the
+water. Her hand was pressed suddenly in his; his eye glittered, his
+lip seemed still speaking; he awaited his doom.
+
+The countenance of Venetia was quite pale, but it was disturbed. You
+might see, as it were, the shadowy progress of thought, and mark the
+tumultuous passage of conflicting passions. Her mind, for a moment,
+was indeed a chaos. There was a terrible conflict between love and
+duty. At length a tear, one solitary tear, burst from her burning
+eye-ball, and stole slowly down her cheek; it relieved her pain. She
+pressed Cadurcis hand, and speaking in a hollow voice, and with a look
+vague and painful, she said, 'I am a victim, but I am resolved. I
+never will desert her who devoted herself to me.'
+
+Cadurcis quitted her hand rather abruptly, and began walking up and
+down on the turf that surrounded the fountain.
+
+'Devoted herself to you!' he exclaimed with a fiendish laugh, and
+speaking, as was his custom, between his teeth. 'Commend me to such
+devotion. Not content with depriving you of a father, now forsooth
+she must bereave you of a lover too! And this is a mother, a devoted
+mother! The cold-blooded, sullen, selfish, inexorable tyrant!'
+
+'Plantagenet!' exclaimed Venetia with great animation.
+
+'Nay, I will speak. Victim, indeed! You have ever been her slave. She
+a devoted mother! Ay! as devoted as a mother as she was dutiful as a
+wife! She has no heart; she never had a feeling. And she cajoles you
+with her love, her devotion, the stern hypocrite!'
+
+'I must leave you,' said Venetia; 'I cannot bear this.'
+
+'Oh! the truth, the truth is precious,' said Cadurcis, taking her
+hand, and preventing her from moving. 'Your mother, your devoted
+mother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.
+Yet there is another. Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow's sun shall
+light me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blend
+my tears with your father's, and I will publish to Europe the double
+infamy of your mother. I swear it solemnly. Still I stand here,
+Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, her
+dutiful son. Nay! her slave like you. She shall not murmur. I will be
+dutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy,' he added in a
+softer tone. 'Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now,
+now.'
+
+'I have spoken,' said Venetia. 'My heart may break, but my purpose
+shall not falter.'
+
+'Then my curse upon your mother's head?' said Cadurcis, with terrible
+vehemency. 'May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!'
+
+'I will listen no more,' exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she moved
+away. She had proceeded some little distance when she paused and
+looked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did not
+observe her. She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; she
+did not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them as
+abruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given. Her heart
+was nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting in
+bitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.
+She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in that
+silent spot it reached him. He joined her immediately, but with a slow
+step. When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in a
+frigid tone, 'I believe you called me?'
+
+Venetia burst into tears. 'I cannot bear to part in anger,
+Plantagenet. I wished to say farewell in kindness. I shall always pray
+for your happiness. God bless you, Plantagenet!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about to
+speak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned his
+steps in a different direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Venetia stopped for a moment to collect herself before she joined
+her aunt, but it was impossible to conceal her agitation from the
+Countess. They had not, however, been long together before they
+observed their friends in the distance, who had now quitted the
+palace. Venetia made the utmost efforts to compose herself, and not
+unsuccessful ones. She was sufficiently calm on their arrival, to
+listen, if not to converse. The Countess, with all the tact of a
+woman, covered her niece's confusion by her animated description of
+their agreeable ride, and their still more pleasant promenade; and in
+a few minutes the whole party were walking back to their carriages.
+When they had arrived at the inn, they found Lord Cadurcis, to
+whose temporary absence the Countess had alluded with some casual
+observation which she flattered herself was very satisfactory.
+Cadurcis appeared rather sullen, and the Countess, with feminine
+quickness, suddenly discovered that both herself and her niece were
+extremely fatigued, and that they had better return in the carriages.
+There was one vacant place, and some of the gentlemen must ride
+outside. Lord Cadurcis, however, said that he should return as he
+came, and the grooms might lead back the ladies' horses; and so in a
+few minutes the carriages had driven off.
+
+Our solitary equestrian, however, was no sooner mounted than he put
+his horse to its speed, and never drew in his rein until he reached
+Hyde Park Corner. The rapid motion accorded with his tumultuous mood.
+He was soon at home, gave his horse to a servant, for he had left
+his groom behind, rushed into his library, tore up a letter of Lady
+Monteagle's with a demoniac glance, and rang his bell with such force
+that it broke. His valet, not unused to such ebullitions, immediately
+appeared.
+
+'Has anything happened, Spalding?' said his lordship.
+
+'Nothing particular, my lord. Her ladyship sent every day, and called
+herself twice, but I told her your lordship was in Yorkshire.'
+
+'That was right; I saw a letter from her. When did it come?'
+
+'It has been here several days, my lord.'
+
+'Mind, I am at home to nobody; I am not in town.'
+
+The valet bowed and disappeared. Cadurcis threw himself into an easy
+chair, stretched his legs, sighed, and then swore; then suddenly
+starting up, he seized a mass of letters that were lying on the table,
+and hurled them to the other end of the apartment, dashed several
+books to the ground, kicked down several chairs that were in his way,
+and began pacing the room with his usual troubled step; and so he
+continued until the shades of twilight entered his apartment. Then he
+pulled down the other bell-rope, and Mr. Spalding again appeared.
+
+'Order posthorses for to-morrow,' said his lordship.
+
+'Where to, my lord?'
+
+'I don't know; order the horses.'
+
+Mr. Spalding again bowed and disappeared.
+
+In a few minutes he heard a great stamping and confusion in his
+master's apartment, and presently the door opened and his master's
+voice was heard calling him repeatedly in a very irritable tone.
+
+'Why are there no bells in this cursed room?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'The ropes are broken, my lord.'
+
+'Why are they broken?'
+
+'I can't say, my lord,'
+
+'I cannot leave this house for a day but I find everything in
+confusion. Bring me some Burgundy.'
+
+'Yes, my lord. There is a young lad, my lord, called a few minutes
+back, and asked for your lordship. He says he has something very
+particular to say to your lordship. I told him your lordship was out
+of town. He said your lordship would wish very much to see him, and
+that he had come from the Abbey.'
+
+'The Abbey!' said Cadurcis, in a tone of curiosity. 'Why did you not
+show him in?'
+
+'Your lordship said you were not at home to anybody.'
+
+'Idiot! Is this anybody? Of course I would have seen him. What the
+devil do I keep you for, sir? You seem to me to have lost your head.'
+
+Mr. Spalding retired.
+
+'The Abbey! that is droll,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe some duties to the
+poor Abbey. I should not like to quit England, and leave anybody in
+trouble at the Abbey. I wish I had seen the lad. Some son of a tenant
+who has written to me, and I have never opened his letters. I am
+sorry.'
+
+In a few minutes Mr. Spalding again entered the room. 'The young lad
+has called again, my lord. He says he thinks your lordship has come to
+town, and he wishes to see your lordship very much.'
+
+'Bring lights and show him up. Show him up first.'
+
+Accordingly, a country lad was ushered into the room, although it was
+so dusky that Cadurcis could only observe his figure standing at the
+door.
+
+'Well, my good fellow,' said Cadurcis; 'what do you want? Are you in
+any trouble?'
+
+The boy hesitated.
+
+'Speak out, my good fellow; do not be alarmed. If I can serve you, or
+any one at the Abbey, I will do it.'
+
+Here Mr. Spalding entered with the lights. The lad held a cotton
+handkerchief to his face; he appeared to be weeping; all that was
+seen of his head were his locks of red hair. He seemed a country lad,
+dressed in a long green coat with silver buttons, and he twirled in
+his disengaged hand a peasant's white hat.
+
+'That will do, Spalding,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'Leave the room. Now,
+my good fellow, my time is precious; but speak out, and do not be
+afraid.'
+
+'Cadurcis!' said the lad in a sweet and trembling voice.
+
+'Gertrude, by G--d!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, starting. 'What infernal
+masquerade is this?'
+
+'Is it a greater disguise than I have to bear every hour of my life?'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, advancing. 'Have I not to bear a smiling
+face with a breaking heart?'
+
+'By Jove! a scene,' exclaimed Cadurcis in a piteous tone.
+
+'A scene!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, bursting into a flood of
+indignant tears. 'Is this the way the expression of my feelings is
+ever to be stigmatised? Barbarous man!'
+
+Cadurcis stood with his back to the fireplace, with his lips
+compressed, and his hands under his coat-tails. He was resolved that
+nothing should induce him to utter a word. He looked the picture of
+dogged indifference.
+
+'I know where you have been,' continued Lady Monteagle. 'You have been
+to Richmond; you have been with Miss Herbert. Yes! I know all. I am a
+victim, but I will not be a dupe. Yorkshire indeed! Paltry coward!'
+
+Cadurcis hummed an air.
+
+'And this is Lord Cadurcis!' continued the lady. 'The sublime,
+ethereal Lord Cadurcis, condescending to the last refuge of the
+meanest, most commonplace mind, a vulgar, wretched lie! What could
+have been expected from such a mind? You may delude the world, but I
+know you. Yes, sir! I know you. And I will let everybody know you. I
+will tear away the veil of charlatanism with which you have enveloped
+yourself. The world shall at length discover the nature of the idol
+they have worshipped. All your meanness, all your falsehood, all your
+selfishness, all your baseness, shall be revealed. I may be spurned,
+but at any rate I will be revenged!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis yawned.
+
+'Insulting, pitiful wretch!' continued the lady. 'And you think that
+I wish to hear you speak! You think the sound of that deceitful voice
+has any charm for me! You are mistaken, sir! I have listened to you
+too long. It was not to remonstrate with you that I resolved to see
+you. The tones of your voice can only excite my disgust. I am here to
+speak myself; to express to you the contempt, the detestation, the
+aversion, the scorn, the hatred, which I entertain for you!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis whistled.
+
+The lady paused; she had effected the professed purport of her visit;
+she ought now to have retired, and Cadurcis would most willingly have
+opened the door for her, and bowed her out of his apartment. But her
+conduct did not exactly accord with her speech. She intimated no
+intention of moving. Her courteous friend retained his position, and
+adhered to his policy of silence. There was a dead pause, and then
+Lady Monteagle, throwing herself into a chair, went into hysterics.
+
+Lord Cadurcis, following her example, also seated himself, took up a
+book, and began to read.
+
+The hysterics became fainter and fainter; they experienced all those
+gradations of convulsive noise with which Lord Cadurcis was so well
+acquainted; at length they subsided into sobs and sighs. Finally,
+there was again silence, now only disturbed by the sound of a page
+turned by Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Suddenly the lady sprang from her seat, and firmly grasping the arm of
+Cadurcis, threw herself on her knees at his side.
+
+'Cadurcis!' she exclaimed, in a tender tone, 'do you love me?'
+
+'My dear Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis, coolly, but rather regretting
+he had quitted his original and less assailable posture, 'you know I
+like quiet women.'
+
+'Cadurcis, forgive me!' murmured the lady. 'Pity me! Think only how
+miserable I am!'
+
+'Your misery is of your own making,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'What
+occasion is there for any of these extraordinary proceedings? I have
+told you a thousand times that I cannot endure scenes. Female society
+is a relaxation to me; you convert it into torture. I like to sail
+upon a summer sea; and you always will insist upon a white squall.'
+
+'But you have deserted me!'
+
+'I never desert any one,' replied Cadurcis calmly, raising her from
+her supplicating attitude, and leading her to a seat. 'The last time
+we met, you banished me your presence, and told me never to speak to
+you again. Well, I obeyed your orders, as I always do.'
+
+'But I did not mean what I said,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'How should I know that?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Your heart ought to have assured you,' said the lady.
+
+'The tongue is a less deceptive organ than the heart,' replied her
+companion.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said the lady, looking at her strange disguise, 'what do
+you advise me to do?'
+
+'To go home; and if you like I will order my vis-à-vis for you
+directly,' and he rose from his seat to give the order.
+
+'Ah!' you are sighing to get rid of me!' said the lady, in a
+reproachful, but still subdued tone.
+
+'Why, the fact is, Gertrude, I prefer calling upon you, to your
+calling upon me. When I am fitted for your society, I seek it; and,
+when you are good-tempered, always with pleasure; when I am not in the
+mood for it, I stay away. And when I am at home, I wish to see no one.
+I have business now, and not very agreeable business. I am disturbed
+by many causes, and you could not have taken a step which could have
+given me greater annoyance than the strange one you have adopted this
+evening.'
+
+'I am sorry for it now,' said the lady, weeping. 'When shall I see you
+again?'
+
+'I will call upon you to-morrow, and pray receive me with smiles.'
+
+'I ever will,' said the lady, weeping plenteously. 'It is all my
+fault; you are ever too good. There is not in the world a kinder and
+more gentle being than yourself. I shall never forgive myself for this
+exposure.
+
+'Would you like to take anything?' said Lord Cadurcis: 'I am sure you
+must feel exhausted. You see I am drinking wine; it is my only dinner
+to-day, but I dare say there is some salvolatile in the house; I dare
+say, when my maids go into hysterics, they have it!'
+
+'Ah, mocker!' said Lady Monteagle; 'but I can pardon everything, if
+you will only let me see you.'
+
+'Au revoir! then,' said his lordship; 'I am sure the carriage must be
+ready. I hear it. Come, Mr. Gertrude, settle your wig; it is quite
+awry. By Jove! we might as well go to the Pantheon, as you are ready
+dressed. I have a domino.' And so saying, Lord Cadurcis handed the
+lady to his carriage, and pressed her lightly by the hand, as he
+reiterated his promise of calling at Monteagle House the next day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Lord Cadurcis, unhappy at home, and wearied of the commonplace
+resources of society, had passed the night in every species of
+dissipation; his principal companion being that same young nobleman in
+whose company he had been when he first met Venetia at Ranelagh. The
+morn was breaking when Cadurcis and his friend arrived at his door.
+They had settled to welcome the dawn with a beaker of burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Now, my dear Scrope,' said Cadurcis, 'now for quiet and philosophy.
+The laughter of those infernal women, the rattle of those cursed dice,
+and the oaths of those ruffians are still ringing in my ears. Let us
+compose ourselves, and moralise.'
+
+Accustomed to their master's habits, who generally turned night into
+day, the household were all on the alert; a blazing fire greeted them,
+and his lordship ordered instantly a devil and the burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Sit you down here, my Scrope; that is the seat of honour, and you
+shall have it. What is this, a letter? and marked "Urgent," and in a
+man's hand. It must be read. Some good fellow nabbed by a bailiff,
+or planted by his mistress. Signals of distress! We must assist our
+friends.'
+
+The flame of the fire fell upon Lord Cadurcis' face as he read the
+letter; he was still standing, while his friend was stretched out in
+his easy chair, and inwardly congratulating himself on his comfortable
+prospects. The countenance of Cadurcis did not change, but he bit
+his lip, and read the letter twice, and turned it over, but with a
+careless air; and then he asked what o'clock it was. The servant
+informed him, and left the room.
+
+'Scrope,' said Lord Cadurcis, quietly, and still standing, 'are you
+very drunk?'
+
+'My dear fellow, I am as fresh as possible; you will see what justice
+I shall do to the Burgundy.'
+
+'"Burgundy to-morrow," as the Greek proverb saith,' observed Lord
+Cadurcis. 'Read that.'
+
+His companion had the pleasure of perusing a challenge from Lord
+Monteagle, couched in no gentle terms, and requesting an immediate
+meeting.
+
+'Well, I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life,' said Lord
+Scrope. 'Does he want satisfaction because you have planted her?'
+
+'D--n her!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'She has occasioned me a thousand
+annoyances, and now she has spoilt our supper. I don't know, though;
+he wants to fight quickly, let us fight at once. I will send him a
+cartel now, and then we can have our Burgundy. You will go out with
+me, of course? Hyde Park, six o'clock, and short swords.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis accordingly sat down, wrote his letter, and dispatched
+it by Mr. Spalding to Monteagle House, with peremptory instructions to
+bring back an answer. The companions then turned to their devil.
+
+'This is a bore, Cadurcis,' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'It is. I cannot say I am very valorous in a bad cause. I do not like
+to fight "upon compulsion," I confess. If I had time to screw my
+courage up, I dare say I should do it very well. I dare say, for
+instance, if ever I am publicly executed, I shall die game.'
+
+'God forbid!' said Lord Scrope. 'I say, Cadurcis, I would not drink
+any Burgundy if I were you. I shall take a glass of cold water.'
+
+'Ah! you are only a second, and so you want to cool your valour,' said
+Cadurcis. 'You have all the fun.'
+
+'But how came this blow-up?' inquired Lord Scrope. 'Letters
+discovered, eh? Because I thought you never saw her now?'
+
+'By Jove! my dear fellow, she has been the whole evening here
+masquerading it like a very vixen, as she is; and now she has
+committed us both. I have burnt her letters, without reading them,
+for the last month. Now I call that honourable; because, as I had no
+longer any claim on her heart, I would not think of trenching on her
+correspondence. But honour, what is honour in these dishonourable
+days? This is my reward. She contrived to enter my house this evening,
+dressed like a farmer's boy, and you may imagine what ensued; rage,
+hysterics, and repentance. I am sure if Monteagle had seen me, he
+would not have been jealous. I never opened my mouth, but, like a
+fool, sent her home in my carriage; and now I am going to be run
+through the body for my politeness.'
+
+In this light strain, blended, however, with more decorous feeling on
+the part of Lord Scrope, the young men conversed until the messenger's
+return with Lord Monteagle's answer. In Hyde Park, in the course of an
+hour, himself and Lord Cadurcis, attended by their friends, were to
+meet.
+
+'Well, there is nothing like having these affairs over,' said
+Cadurcis; 'and to confess the truth, my dear Scrope, I should not much
+care if Monteagle were to despatch me to my fathers; for, in the whole
+course of my miserable life, and miserable, whatever the world may
+think, it has been, I never felt much more wretched than I have during
+the last four-and-twenty hours. By Jove! do you know I was going to
+leave England this morning, and I have ordered my horses, too.'
+
+'Leave England!'
+
+'Yes, leave England; and where I never intended to return.'
+
+'Well, you are the oddest person I ever knew, Cadurcis. I should have
+thought you the happiest person that ever existed. Everybody admires,
+everybody envies you. You seem to have everything that man can desire.
+Your life is a perpetual triumph.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Scrope, there is a skeleton in every house. If you knew
+all, you would not envy me.'
+
+'Well, we have not much time,' said Lord Scrope; 'have you any
+arrangements to make?'
+
+'None. My property goes to George, who is my only relative, without
+the necessity of a will, otherwise I should leave everything to him,
+for he is a good fellow, and my blood is in his veins. Just you
+remember, Scrope, that I will be buried with my mother. That is all;
+and now let us get ready.'
+
+The sun had just risen when the young men went forth, and the day
+promised to be as brilliant as the preceding one. Not a soul was
+stirring in the courtly quarter in which Cadurcis resided; even the
+last watchman had stolen to repose. They called a hackney coach at the
+first stand they reached, and were soon at the destined spot. They
+were indeed before their time, and strolling by the side of the
+Serpentine, Cadurcis said, 'Yesterday morning was one of the happiest
+of my life, Scrope, and I was in hopes that an event would have
+occurred in the course of the day that might have been my salvation.
+If it had, by-the-bye, I should not have returned to town, and got
+into this cursed scrape. However, the gods were against me, and now I
+am reckless.'
+
+Now Lord Monteagle and his friend, who was Mr. Horace Pole, appeared.
+Cadurcis advanced, and bowed; Lord Monteagle returned his bow,
+stiffly, but did not speak. The seconds chose their ground, the
+champions disembarrassed themselves of their coats, and their swords
+crossed. It was a brief affair. After a few passes, Cadurcis received
+a slight wound in his arm, while his weapon pierced his antagonist in
+the breast. Lord Monteagle dropped his sword and fell.
+
+'You had better fly, Lord Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'This is a
+bad business, I fear; we have a surgeon at hand, and he can help us to
+the coach that is waiting close by.'
+
+'I thank you, sir, I never fly,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'and I shall wait
+here until I see your principal safely deposited in his carriage; he
+will have no objection to my friend, Lord Scrope, assisting him, who,
+by his presence to-day, has only fulfilled one of the painful duties
+that society imposes upon us.'
+
+The surgeon gave an unfavourable report of the wound, which he dressed
+on the field. Lord Monteagle was then borne to his carriage, which was
+at hand, and Lord Scrope, the moment he had seen the equipage move
+slowly off, returned to his friend.
+
+'Well Cadurcis,' he exclaimed in an anxious voice, 'I hope you have
+not killed him. What will you do now?'
+
+'I shall go home, and await the result, my dear Scrope. I am sorry for
+you, for this may get you into trouble. For myself, I care nothing.'
+
+'You bleed!' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'A scratch. I almost wish our lots had been the reverse. Come, Scrope,
+help me on with my coat. Yesterday I lost my heart, last night I lost
+my money, and perhaps to-morrow I shall lose my arm. It seems we are
+not in luck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+It has been well observed, that no spectacle is so ridiculous as the
+British public in one of its periodical fits of morality. In general,
+elopements, divorces, and family quarrels pass with little notice. We
+read the scandal, talk about it for a day, and forget it. But, once in
+six or seven years, our virtue becomes outrageous. We cannot suffer
+the laws of religion and decency to be violated. We must make a
+stand against vice. We must teach libertines that the English people
+appreciate the importance of domestic ties. Accordingly, some
+unfortunate man, in no respect more depraved than hundreds whose
+offences have been treated with lenity, is singled out as an expiatory
+sacrifice. If he has children, they are to be taken from him. If he
+has a profession, he is to be driven from it. He is cut by the higher
+orders, and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, a sort of whipping
+boy, by whose vicarious agonies all the other transgressors of the
+same class are, it is supposed, sufficiently chastised. We reflect
+very complacently on our own severity, and compare, with great pride,
+the high standard of morals established in England, with the Parisian
+laxity. At length, our anger is satiated, our victim is ruined and
+heart-broken, and our virtue goes quietly to sleep for seven years
+more.
+
+These observations of a celebrated writer apply to the instance of
+Lord Cadurcis; he was the periodical victim, the scapegoat of English
+morality, sent into the wilderness with all the crimes and curses of
+the multitude on his head. Lord Cadurcis had certainly committed a
+great crime: not his intrigue with Lady Monteagle, for that surely was
+not an unprecedented offence; not his duel with her husband, for after
+all it was a duel in self-defence; and, at all events, divorces
+and duels, under any circumstances, would scarcely have excited or
+authorised the storm which was now about to burst over the late
+spoiled child of society. But Lord Cadurcis had been guilty of the
+offence which, of all offences, is punished most severely: Lord
+Cadurcis had been overpraised. He had excited too warm an interest;
+and the public, with its usual justice, was resolved to chastise him
+for its own folly.
+
+There are no fits of caprice so hasty and so violent as those of
+society. Society, indeed, is all passion and no heart. Cadurcis, in
+allusion to his sudden and singular success, had been in the habit of
+saying to his intimates, that he 'woke one morning and found himself
+famous.' He might now observe, 'I woke one morning and found myself
+infamous.' Before twenty-four hours had passed over his duel with Lord
+Monteagle, he found himself branded by every journal in London, as an
+unprincipled and unparalleled reprobate. The public, without waiting
+to think or even to inquire after the truth, instantly selected as
+genuine the most false and the most flagrant of the fifty libellous
+narratives that were circulated of the transaction. Stories,
+inconsistent with themselves, were all alike eagerly believed, and
+what evidence there might be for any one of them, the virtuous people,
+by whom they were repeated, neither cared nor knew. The public, in
+short, fell into a passion with their darling, and, ashamed of their
+past idolatry, nothing would satisfy them but knocking the divinity on
+the head.
+
+Until Lord Monteagle, to the great regret of society, who really
+wished him to die in order that his antagonist might commit murder,
+was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis never quitted his house, and
+he was not a little surprised that scarcely a human being called upon
+him except his cousin, who immediately flew to his succour. George,
+indeed, would gladly have spared Cadurcis any knowledge of the storm
+that was raging against him, and which he flattered himself would blow
+over before Cadurcis was again abroad; but he was so much with
+his cousin, and Cadurcis was so extremely acute and naturally so
+suspicious, that this was impossible. Moreover, his absolute desertion
+by his friends, and the invectives and the lampoons with which the
+newspapers abounded, and of which he was the subject, rendered any
+concealment out of the question, and poor George passed his life in
+running about contradicting falsehoods, stating truth, fighting his
+cousin's battles, and then reporting to him, in the course of the day,
+the state of the campaign.
+
+Cadurcis, being a man of infinite sensibility, suffered tortures. He
+had been so habituated to panegyric, that the slightest criticism
+ruffled him, and now his works had suddenly become the subject of
+universal and outrageous attack; having lived only in a cloud of
+incense, he suddenly found himself in a pillory of moral indignation;
+his writings, his habits, his temper, his person, were all alike
+ridiculed and vilified. In a word, Cadurcis, the petted, idolised,
+spoiled Cadurcis, was enduring that charming vicissitude in a
+prosperous existence, styled a reaction; and a conqueror, who deemed
+himself invincible, suddenly vanquished, could scarcely be more
+thunderstruck, or feel more impotently desperate.
+
+The tortures of his mind, however, which this sudden change in his
+position and in the opinions of society, were of themselves competent
+to occasion to one of so impetuous and irritable a temperament, and
+who ever magnified both misery and delight with all the creative
+power of a brooding imagination, were excited in his case even to the
+liveliest agony, when he reminded himself of the situation in which he
+was now placed with Venetia. All hope of ever obtaining her hand had
+now certainly vanished, and he doubted whether even her love could
+survive the quick occurrence, after his ardent vows, of this degrading
+and mortifying catastrophe. He execrated Lady Monteagle with the most
+heartfelt rage, and when he remembered that all this time the world
+believed him the devoted admirer of this vixen, his brain was
+stimulated almost to the verge of insanity. His only hope of the
+truth reaching Venetia was through the medium of his cousin, and he
+impressed daily upon Captain Cadurcis the infinite consolation it
+would prove to him, if he could contrive to make her aware of the real
+facts of the case. According to the public voice, Lady Monteagle at
+his solicitation had fled to his house, and remained there, and her
+husband forced his entrance into the mansion in the middle of the
+night, while his wife escaped disguised in Lord Cadurcis' clothes.
+She did not, however, reach Monteagle House in time enough to
+escape detection by her lord, who had instantly sought and obtained
+satisfaction from his treacherous friend. All the monstrous inventions
+of the first week had now subsided into this circumstantial and
+undoubted narrative; at least this was the version believed by those
+who had been Cadurcis' friends. They circulated the authentic tale
+with the most considerate assiduity, and shook their heads, and said
+it was too bad, and that he must not be countenanced.
+
+The moment Lord Monteagle was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis
+made his appearance in public. He walked into Brookes', and everybody
+seemed suddenly so deeply interested in the newspapers, that you might
+have supposed they had brought intelligence of a great battle, or a
+revolution, or a change of ministry at the least. One or two men spoke
+to him, who had never presumed to address him at any other time, and
+he received a faint bow from a distinguished nobleman, who had ever
+professed for him the greatest consideration and esteem.
+
+Cadurcis mounted his horse and rode down to the House of Lords. There
+was a debate of some public interest, and a considerable crowd was
+collected round the Peers' entrance. The moment Lord Cadurcis was
+recognised, the multitude began hooting. He was agitated, and grinned
+a ghastly smile at the rabble. But he dismounted, without further
+annoyance, and took his seat. Not a single peer of his own party spoke
+to him. The leader of the Opposition, indeed, bowed to him, and, in
+the course of the evening, he received, from one or two more of his
+party, some formal evidences of frigid courtesy. The tone of his
+reception by his friends could not be concealed from the ministerial
+party. It was soon detected, and generally whispered, that Lord
+Cadurcis was cut. Nevertheless, he sat out the debate and voted. The
+house broke up. He felt lonely; his old friend, the Bishop of----, who
+had observed all that had occurred, and who might easily have avoided
+him, came forward, however, in the most marked manner, and, in a tone
+which everybody heard, said, 'How do you do, Lord Cadurcis? I am very
+glad to see you,' shaking his hand most cordially. This made a great
+impression. Several of the Tory Lords, among them Venetia's uncle, now
+advanced and sainted him. He received their advances with a haughty,
+but not disdainful, courtesy; but when his Whig friends, confused, now
+hurried to encumber him with their assistance, he treated them with
+the scorn which they well deserved.
+
+'Will you take a seat in my carriage home, Lord Cadurcis?' said his
+leader, for it was notorious that Cadurcis had been mobbed on his
+arrival.
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Cadurcis, speaking very audibly, 'I
+prefer returning as I came. We are really both of us such unpopular
+personages, that your kindness would scarcely be prudent.'
+
+The house had been full; there was a great scuffle and confusion as
+the peers were departing; the mob, now considerable, were prepared for
+the appearance of Lord Cadurcis, and their demeanour was menacing.
+Some shouted out his name; then it was repeated with odious and
+vindictive epithets, followed by ferocious yells. A great many
+peers collected round Cadurcis, and entreated him not to return on
+horseback. It must be confessed that genuine and considerable feeling
+was now shown by all men of all parties. And indeed to witness this
+young, and noble, and gifted creature, but a few days back the idol
+of the nation, and from whom a word, a glance even, was deemed the
+greatest and most gratifying distinction, whom all orders, classes,
+and conditions of men had combined to stimulate with multiplied
+adulation, with all the glory and ravishing delights of the world, as
+it were, forced upon him, to see him thus assailed with the savage
+execrations of all those vile things who exult in the fall of
+everything that is great, and the abasement of everything that is
+noble, was indeed a spectacle which might have silenced malice and
+satisfied envy!
+
+'My carriage is most heartily at your service, Lord Cadurcis,' said
+the noble leader of the government in the upper house; 'you can enter
+it without the slightest suspicion by these ruffians.' 'Lord Cadurcis;
+my dear lord; my good lord, for our sakes, if not for your own;
+Cadurcis, dear Cadurcis, my good Cadurcis, it is madness, folly,
+insanity; a mob will do anything, and an English mob is viler than
+all; for Heaven's sake!' Such were a few of the varied exclamations
+which resounded on all sides, but which produced on the person to whom
+they were addressed only the result of his desiring the attendant to
+call for his horses.
+
+The lobby was yet full; it was a fine thing in the light of the
+archway to see Cadurcis spring into his saddle. Instantly there was a
+horrible yell. Yet in spite of all their menaces, the mob were for a
+time awed by his courage; they made way for him; he might even have
+rode quickly on for some few yards, but he would not; he reined his
+fiery steed into a slow but stately pace, and, with a countenance
+scornful and composed, he continued his progress, apparently
+unconscious of impediment. Meanwhile, the hooting continued without
+abatement, increasing indeed, after the first comparative pause,
+in violence and menace. At length a bolder ruffian, excited by the
+uproar, rushed forward and seized Cadurcis' bridle. Cadurcis struck
+the man over the eyes with his whip, and at the same time touched his
+horse with his spur, and the assailant was dashed to the ground. This
+seemed a signal for a general assault. It commenced with hideous
+yells. His friends at the house, who had watched everything with the
+keenest interest, immediately directed all the constables who were at
+hand to rush to his succour; hitherto they had restrained the police,
+lest their interference might stimulate rather than repress the mob.
+The charge of the constables was well timed; they laid about them with
+their staves; you might have heard the echo of many a broken crown.
+Nevertheless, though they dispersed the mass, they could not penetrate
+the immediate barrier that surrounded Lord Cadurcis, whose only
+defence indeed, for they had cut off his groom, was the terrors of his
+horse's heels, and whose managed motions he regulated with admirable
+skill, now rearing, now prancing, now kicking behind, and now
+turning round with a quick yet sweeping motion, before which the mob
+retreated. Off his horse, however, they seemed resolved to drag him;
+and it was not difficult to conceive, if they succeeded, what must
+be his eventual fate. They were infuriate, but his contact with his
+assailants fortunately prevented their co-mates from hurling stones at
+him from the fear of endangering their own friends.
+
+A messenger to the Horse Guards had been sent from the House of Lords;
+but, before the military could arrive, and fortunately (for, with
+their utmost expedition, they must have been too late), a rumour of
+the attack got current in the House of Commons. Captain Cadurcis,
+Lord Scrope, and a few other young men instantly rushed out; and,
+ascertaining the truth, armed with good cudgels and such other
+effective weapons as they could instantly obtain, they mounted their
+horses and charged the nearly-triumphant populace, dealing such
+vigorous blows that their efforts soon made a visible diversion in
+Lord Cadurcis' favour. It is difficult, indeed, to convey an idea of
+the exertions and achievements of Captain Cadurcis; no Paladin of
+chivalry ever executed such marvels on a swarm of Paynim slaves; and
+many a bloody coxcomb and broken limb bore witness in Petty France
+that night to his achievements. Still the mob struggled and were not
+daunted by the delay in immolating their victim. As long as they had
+only to fight against men in plain clothes, they were valorous and
+obstinate enough; but the moment that the crests of a troop of Horse
+Guards were seen trotting down Parliament Street, everybody ran away,
+and in a few minutes all Palace-yard was as still as if the genius of
+the place rendered a riot impossible.
+
+Lord Cadurcis thanked his friends, who were profuse in their
+compliments to his pluck. His manner, usually playful with his
+intimates of his own standing, was, however, rather grave at present,
+though very cordial. He asked them home to dine with him; but they
+were obliged to decline his invitation, as a division was expected;
+so, saying 'Good-bye, George, perhaps I shall see you to-night,'
+Cadurcis rode rapidly off.
+
+With Cadurcis there was but one step from the most exquisite
+sensitiveness to the most violent defiance. The experience of this
+day had entirely cured him of his previous nervous deference to the
+feelings of society. Society had outraged him, and now he resolved to
+outrage society. He owed society nothing; his reception at the House
+of Lords and the riot in Palace-yard had alike cleared his accounts
+with all orders of men, from the highest to the lowest. He had
+experienced, indeed, some kindness that he could not forget, but only
+from his own kin, and those who with his associations were the same as
+kin. His memory dwelt with gratification on his cousin's courageous
+zeal, and still more on the demonstration which Masham had made in his
+favour, which, if possible, argued still greater boldness and sincere
+regard. That was a trial of true affection, and an instance of moral
+courage, which Cadurcis honoured, and which he never could forget. He
+was anxious about Venetia; he wished to stand as well with her as he
+deserved; no better; but he was grieved to think she could believe all
+those infamous tales at present current respecting himself. But, for
+the rest of the world, he delivered them all to the most absolute
+contempt, disgust, and execration; he resolved, from this time,
+nothing should ever induce him again to enter society, or admit the
+advances of a single civilised ruffian who affected to be social. The
+country, the people, their habits, laws, manners, customs, opinions,
+and everything connected with them, were viewed with the same
+jaundiced eye; and his only object now was to quit England, to which
+he resolved never to return.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Venetia was, perhaps, not quite so surprised as the rest of her
+friends, when, on their return to Richmond, Lord Cadurcis was not
+again seen. She was very unhappy: she recalled the scene in the
+garden at Cherbury some years back; and, with the knowledge of the
+impetuosity of his temper, she believed she should never see him
+again. Poor Plantagenet, who loved her so much, and whose love she so
+fully returned! why might they not be happy? She neither doubted the
+constancy of his affection, nor their permanent felicity if they
+were united. She shared none of her mother's apprehensions or her
+prejudices, but she was the victim of duty and her vow. In the course
+of four-and-twenty hours, strange rumours were afloat respecting Lord
+Cadurcis; and the newspapers on the ensuing morning told the truth,
+and more than the truth. Venetia could not doubt as to the duel or the
+elopement; but, instead of feeling indignation, she attributed what
+had occurred to the desperation of his mortified mind; and she visited
+on herself all the fatal consequences that had happened. At present,
+however, all her emotions were quickly absorbed in the one terrible
+fear that Lord Monteagle would die. In that dreadful and urgent
+apprehension every other sentiment merged. It was impossible to
+conceal her misery, and she entreated her mother to return to town.
+
+Very differently, however, was the catastrophe viewed by Lady Annabel.
+She, on the contrary, triumphed in her sagacity and her prudence. She
+hourly congratulated herself on being the saviour of her daughter;
+and though she refrained from indulging in any open exultation
+over Venetia's escape and her own profound discretion, it was,
+nevertheless, impossible for her to conceal from her daughter her
+infinite satisfaction and self-congratulation. While Venetia was half
+broken-hearted, her mother silently returned thanks to Providence for
+the merciful dispensation which had exempted her child from so much
+misery.
+
+The day after their return to town, Captain Cadurcis called upon them.
+Lady Annabel never mentioned the name of his cousin; but George,
+finding no opportunity of conversing with Venetia alone, and being,
+indeed, too much excited to speak on any other subject, plunged at
+once into the full narrative; defended Lord Cadurcis, abused the
+Monteagles and the slanderous world, and, in spite of Lady Annabel's
+ill-concealed dissatisfaction, favoured her with an exact and
+circumstantial account of everything that had happened, how it
+happened, when it happened, and where it happened; concluding by a
+declaration that Cadurcis was the best fellow that ever lived; the
+most unfortunate, and the most ill-used; and that, if he were to be
+hunted down for an affair like this, over which he had no control,
+there was not a man in London who could be safe for ten minutes. All
+that George effected by his zeal, was to convince Lady Annabel that
+his cousin had entirely corrupted, him; she looked upon her former
+favourite as another victim; but Venetia listened in silence, and not
+without solace.
+
+Two or three days after the riot at the House of Lords, Captain
+Cadurcis burst into his cousin's room with a triumphant countenance.
+'Well, Plantagenet!' he exclaimed, 'I have done it; I have seen
+her alone, and I have put you as right as possible. Nothing can be
+better.'
+
+'Tell me, my dear fellow,' said Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Well, you know, I have called half-a-dozen times,' said George, 'but
+either Lady Annabel was there, or they were not at home, or something
+always occurred to prevent any private communication. But I met her
+to-day with her aunt; I joined them immediately, and kept with them
+the whole morning. I am sorry to say she, I mean Venetia, is devilish
+ill; she is, indeed. However, her aunt now is quite on your side, and
+very kind, I can tell you that. I put her right at first, and she has
+fought our battle bravely. Well, they stopped to call somewhere, and
+Venetia was so unwell that she would not get out, and I was left alone
+in the carriage with her. Time was precious, and I opened at once. I
+told her how wretched you were, and that the only thing that made you
+miserable was about her, because you were afraid she would think you
+so profligate, and all that. I went through it all; told her the exact
+truth, which, indeed, she had before heard; but now I assured her, on
+my honour, that it was exactly what happened; and she said she did not
+doubt it, and could not, from some conversation which you had together
+the day we were all at Hampton Court, and that she felt that nothing
+could have been premeditated, and fully believed that everything had
+occurred as I said; and, however she deplored it, she felt the same
+for you as ever, and prayed for your happiness. Then she told me what
+misery the danger of Lord Monteagle had occasioned her; that she
+thought his death must have been the forerunner of her own; but the
+moment he was declared out of danger seemed the happiest hour of
+her life. I told her you were going to leave England, and asked her
+whether she had any message for you; and she said, "Tell him he is the
+same to me that he has always been." So, when her aunt returned, I
+jumped out and ran on to you at once.'
+
+'You are the best fellow that ever lived, George,' said Lord Cadurcis;
+'and now the world may go to the devil!'
+
+This message from Venetia acted upon Lord Cadurcis like a charm. It
+instantly cleared his mind. He shut himself up in his house for a
+week, and wrote a farewell to England, perhaps the most masterly
+effusion of his powerful spirit. It abounded in passages of
+overwhelming passion, and almost Satanic sarcasm. Its composition
+entirely relieved his long-brooding brain. It contained, moreover,
+a veiled address to Venetia, delicate, tender, and irresistibly
+affecting. He appended also to the publication, the verses he had
+previously addressed to her.
+
+This volume, which was purchased with an avidity exceeding even
+the eagerness with which his former productions had been received,
+exercised extraordinary influence on public opinion. It enlisted the
+feelings of the nation on his side in a struggle with a coterie. It
+was suddenly discovered that Lord Cadurcis was the most injured of
+mortals, and far more interesting than ever. The address to the
+unknown object of his adoration, and the verses to Venetia, mystified
+everybody. Lady Monteagle was universally abused, and all sympathised
+with the long-treasured and baffled affection of the unhappy poet.
+Cadurcis, however, was not to be conciliated. He left his native
+shores in a blaze of glory, but with the accents of scorn still
+quivering on his lip.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The still waters of the broad and winding lake reflected the lustre
+of the cloudless sky. The gentle declinations of the green hills that
+immediately bordered the lake, with an undulating margin that now
+retired into bays of the most picturesque form, now jutted forth
+into woody promontories, and then opened into valleys of sequestered
+beauty, which the eye delighted to pursue, were studded with white
+villas, and cottages scarcely less graceful, and occasionally with
+villages, and even towns; here and there rose a solitary chapel; and,
+scarcely less conspicuous, the black spire of some cypress strikingly
+contrasting with the fair buildings or the radiant foliage that in
+general surrounded them. A rampart of azure mountains raised their
+huge forms behind the nearer hills; and occasionally peering over
+these, like spectres on some brilliant festival, were the ghastly
+visages of the Alpine glaciers.
+
+It was within an hour of sunset, and the long shadows had fallen upon
+the waters; a broad boat, with a variegated awning, rowed by two men,
+approached the steps of a marble terrace. The moment they had reached
+their point of destination, and had fastened the boat to its moorings,
+the men landed their oars, and immediately commenced singing a simple
+yet touching melody, wherewith it was their custom to apprise their
+employers of their arrival.
+
+'Will they come forth this evening, think you, Vittorio?' said one
+boatman to the other.
+
+'By our holy mother, I hope so!' replied his comrade, 'for this light
+air that is now rising will do the young signora more good than fifty
+doctors.'
+
+'They are good people,' said Vittorio. 'It gives me more pleasure to
+row them than any persons who ever hired us.'
+
+'Ay, ay!' said his comrade, 'It was a lucky day when we first put an
+oar in the lake for them, heretics though they be.'
+
+'But they may he converted yet,' said his companion; 'for, as I was
+saying to Father Francisco last night, if the young signora dies, it
+is a sad thing to think what will become of her.'
+
+'And what said the good Father?'
+
+'He shook his head,' said Vittorio.
+
+'When Father Francisco shakes his head, he means a great deal,' said
+his companion.
+
+At this moment a servant appeared on the terrace, to say the ladies
+were at hand; and very shortly afterwards Lady Annabel Herbert, with
+her daughter leaning on her arm, descended the steps, and entered the
+boat. The countenances of the boatmen brightened when they saw them,
+and they both made their inquiries after the health of Venetia with
+tenderness and feeling.
+
+'Indeed, my good friends,' said Venetia, 'I think you are right, and
+the lake will cure me after all.'
+
+'The blessing of the lake be upon you, signora,' said the boatmen,
+crossing themselves.
+
+Just as they were moving off, came running Mistress Pauncefort,
+quite breathless. 'Miss Herbert's fur cloak, my lady; you told me to
+remember, my lady, and I cannot think how I forgot it. But I really
+have been so very hot all day, that such a thing as furs never entered
+my head. And for my part, until I travelled, I always thought furs
+were only worn in Russia. But live and learn, as I say.'
+
+They were now fairly floating on the calm, clear waters, and the
+rising breeze was as grateful to Venetia as the boatmen had imagined.
+
+A return of those symptoms which had before disquieted Lady Annabel
+for her daughter, and which were formerly the cause of their residence
+at Weymouth, had induced her, in compliance with the advice of her
+physicians, to visit Italy; but the fatigue of travel had exhausted
+the energies of Venetia (for in those days the Alps were not passed in
+luxurious travelling carriages) on the very threshold of the promised
+land; and Lady Annabel had been prevailed upon to take a villa on the
+Lago Maggiore, where Venetia had passed two months, still suffering
+indeed from great debility, but not without advantage.
+
+There are few spots more favoured by nature than the Italian lakes and
+their vicinity, combining, as they do, the most sublime features
+of mountainous scenery with all the softer beauties and the varied
+luxuriance of the plain. As the still, bright lake is to the rushing
+and troubled cataract, is Italy to Switzerland and Savoy. Emerging
+from the chaotic ravines and the wild gorges of the Alps, the happy
+land breaks upon us like a beautiful vision. We revel in the sunny
+light, after the unearthly glare of eternal snow. Our sight seems
+renovated as we throw our eager glance over those golden plains,
+clothed with such picturesque trees, sparkling with such graceful
+villages, watered by such noble rivers, and crowned with such
+magnificent cities; and all bathed and beaming in an atmosphere so
+soft and radiant! Every isolated object charms us with its beautiful
+novelty: for the first time we gaze on palaces; the garden, the
+terrace, and the statue, recall our dreams beneath a colder sky;
+and we turn from these to catch the hallowed form of some cupolaed
+convent, crowning the gentle elevation of some green hill, and flanked
+by the cypress or the pine.
+
+The influence of all these delightful objects and of this benign
+atmosphere on the frame and mind of Venetia had been considerable.
+After the excitement of the last year of her life, and the harassing
+and agitating scenes with which it closed, she found a fine solace
+in this fair land and this soft sky, which the sad perhaps can alone
+experience. Its repose alone afforded a consolatory contrast to the
+turbulent pleasure of the great world. She looked back upon those
+glittering and noisy scenes with an aversion which was only modified
+by her self-congratulation at her escape from their exhausting and
+contaminating sphere. Here she recurred, but with all the advantages
+of a change of scene, and a scene so rich in novel and interesting
+associations, to the calm tenor of those days, when not a thought ever
+seemed to escape from Cherbury and its spell-bound seclusion. Her
+books, her drawings, her easel, and her harp, were now again her chief
+pursuits; pursuits, however, influenced by the genius of the land in
+which she lived, and therefore invested with a novel interest; for
+the literature and the history of the country naturally attracted her
+attention; and its fair aspects and sweet sounds, alike inspired her
+pencil and her voice. She had, in the society of her mother, indeed,
+the advantage of communing with a mind not less refined and cultivated
+than her own. Lady Annabel was a companion whose conversation, from
+reading and reflection, was eminently suggestive; and their hours,
+though they lived in solitude, never hung heavy. They were always
+employed, and always cheerful. But Venetia was not more than cheerful.
+Still very young, and gifted with an imaginative and therefore
+sanguine mind, the course of circumstances, however, had checked her
+native spirit, and shaded a brow which, at her time of life and with
+her temperament, should have been rather fanciful than pensive. If
+Venetia, supported by the disciplined energies of a strong mind, had
+schooled herself into not looking back to the past with grief, her
+future was certainly not tinged with the Iris pencil of Hope. It
+seemed to her that it was her fate that life should bring her no
+happier hours than those she now enjoyed. They did not amount to
+exquisite bliss. That was a conviction which, by no process of
+reflection, however ingenious, could she delude herself to credit.
+Venetia struggled to take refuge in content, a mood of mind perhaps
+less natural than it should be to one so young, so gifted, and so
+fair!
+
+Their villa was surrounded by a garden in the ornate and artificial
+style of the country. A marble terrace overlooked the lake, crowned
+with many a statue and vase that held the aloe. The laurel and the
+cactus, the cypress and the pine, filled the air with their fragrance,
+or charmed the eye with their rarity and beauty: the walks were
+festooned with the vine, and they could raise their hands and pluck
+the glowing fruit which screened them, from the beam by which, it was
+ripened. In this enchanted domain Venetia might be often seen, a
+form even fairer than the sculptured nymphs among which she glided,
+catching the gentle breeze that played upon the surface of the lake,
+or watching the white sail that glittered in the sun as it floated
+over its purple bosom.
+
+Yet this beautiful retreat Venetia was soon to quit, and she thought
+of her departure with a sigh. Her mother had been warned to avoid
+the neighbourhood of the mountains in the winter, and the autumn was
+approaching its close. If Venetia could endure the passage of the
+Apennines, it was the intention of Lady Annabel to pass the winter
+on the coast of the Mediterranean; otherwise to settle in one of the
+Lombard cities. At all events, in the course of a few weeks they were
+to quit their villa on the lake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A very few days after this excursion on the lake, Lady Annabel and her
+daughter were both surprised and pleased with a visit from a friend
+whose appearance was certainly very unexpected; this was Captain
+Cadurcis. On his way from Switzerland to Sicily, he had heard of their
+residence in the neighbourhood, and had crossed over from Arona to
+visit them.
+
+The name of Cadurcis was still dear to Venetia, and George had
+displayed such gallantry and devotion in all his cousin's troubles,
+that she was personally attached to him; he had always been a
+favourite of her mother; his arrival, therefore, was welcomed by each
+of the ladies with great cordiality. He accepted the hospitality which
+Lady Annabel offered him, and remained with them a week, a period
+which they spent in visiting the most beautiful and interesting spots
+of the lake, with which they were already sufficiently familiar to
+allow them to prove guides as able as they were agreeable. These
+excursions, indeed, contributed to the pleasure and happiness of the
+whole party. There was about Captain Cadurcis a natural cheerfulness
+which animated every one in his society; a gay simplicity, difficult
+to define, but very charming, and which, without effort, often
+produced deeper impressions than more brilliant and subtle qualities.
+Left alone in the world, and without a single advantage save those
+that nature had conferred upon him, it had often been remarked,
+that in whatever circle he moved George Cadurcis always became the
+favourite and everywhere made friends. His sweet and engaging temper
+had perhaps as much contributed to his professional success as his
+distinguished gallantry and skill. Other officers, no doubt, were
+as brave and able as Captain Cadurcis, but his commanders always
+signalled him out for favourable notice; and, strange to say, his
+success, instead of exciting envy and ill-will, pleased even his less
+fortunate competitors. However hard another might feel his own lot, it
+was soothed by the reflection that George Cadurcis was at least
+more fortunate. His popularity, however, was not confined to his
+profession. His cousin's noble guardian, whom George had never seen
+until he ventured to call upon his lordship on his return to England,
+now looked upon him almost as a son, and omitted no opportunity of
+advancing his interests in the world. Of all the members of the House
+of Commons he was perhaps the only one that everybody praised, and
+his success in the world of fashion had been as remarkable as in his
+profession. These great revolutions in his life and future prospects
+had, however, not produced the slightest change in his mind and
+manners; and this was perhaps the secret spell of his prosperity.
+Though we are most of us the creatures of affectation, simplicity has
+a great charm, especially when attended, as in the present instance,
+with many agreeable and some noble qualities. In spite of the rough
+fortunes of his youth, the breeding of Captain Cadurcis was high; the
+recollection of the race to which he belonged had never been forgotten
+by him. He was proud of his family. He had one of those light hearts,
+too, which enable their possessors to acquire accomplishments with
+facility: he had a sweet voice, a quick ear, a rapid eye. He
+acquired a language as some men learn an air. Then his temper was
+imperturbable, and although the most obliging and kindest-hearted
+creature that ever lived, there was a native dignity about him which
+prevented his goodnature from being abused. No sense of interest
+either could ever induce him to act contrary to the dictates of his
+judgment and his heart. At the risk of offending his patron, George
+sided with his cousin, although he had deeply offended his guardian,
+and although the whole world was against him. Indeed, the strong
+affection that Lord Cadurcis instantly entertained for George is
+not the least remarkable instance of the singular, though silent,
+influence that Captain Cadurcis everywhere acquired. Lord Cadurcis
+had fixed upon him for his friend from the first moment of their
+acquaintance; and though apparently there could not be two characters
+more dissimilar, there were at bottom some striking points of sympathy
+and some strong bonds of union, in the generosity and courage that
+distinguished both, and in the mutual blood that filled their veins.
+
+There seemed to be a tacit understanding between the several members
+of our party that the name of Lord Cadurcis was not to be mentioned.
+Lady Annabel made no inquiry after him; Venetia was unwilling to
+hazard a question which would annoy her mother, and of which the
+answer could not bring her much satisfaction; and Captain Cadurcis did
+not think fit himself to originate any conversation on the subject.
+Nevertheless, Venetia could not help sometimes fancying, when her eyes
+met his, that their mutual thoughts were the same, and both dwelling
+on one who was absent, and of whom her companion would willingly have
+conversed. To confess the truth, indeed, George Cadurcis was on his
+way to join his cousin, who had crossed over from Spain to Barbary,
+and journeyed along the African coast from Tangiers to Tripoli. Their
+point of reunion was to be Sicily or Malta. Hearing of the residence
+of the Herberts on the lake, he thought it would be but kind to
+Plantagenet to visit them, and perhaps to bear to him some message
+from Venetia. There was nothing, indeed, on which Captain Cadurcis
+was more intent than to effect the union between his cousin and Miss
+Herbert. He was deeply impressed with the sincerity of Plantagenet's
+passion, and he himself entertained for the lady the greatest
+affection and admiration. He thought she was the only person whom he
+had ever known, who was really worthy to be his cousin's bride. And,
+independent of her personal charms and undoubted talents, she had
+displayed during the outcry against Lord Cadurcis so much good sense,
+such a fine spirit, and such modest yet sincere affection for the
+victim, that George Cadurcis had almost lost his own heart to her,
+when he was endeavouring to induce her not utterly to reject that of
+another; and it became one of the dreams of his life, that in a little
+time, when all, as he fondly anticipated, had ended as it should,
+and as he wished it, he should be able to find an occasional home at
+Cadurcis Abbey, and enjoy the charming society of one whom he had
+already taught himself to consider as a sister.
+
+'And to-night you must indeed go?' said Venetia, as they were walking
+together on the terrace. It was the only time that they had been alone
+together during his visit.
+
+'I must start from Arona at daybreak,' replied George; 'and I must
+travel quickly, for in less than a month I must be in Sicily.'
+
+'Sicily! Why are you going to Sicily?'
+
+Captain Cadurcis smiled. 'I am going to join a friend of ours,' he
+answered.
+
+'Plantagenet?' she said.
+
+Captain Cadurcis nodded assent.
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'His name has been on my lips several times,' said George.
+
+'I am sure of that,' said Venetia. 'Is he well?'
+
+'He writes to me in fair spirits,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'He has been
+travelling in Spain, and now he is somewhere in Africa; we are to meet
+in Sicily or Malta. I think travel has greatly benefited him. He seems
+quite delighted with his glimpse of Oriental manners, and I should
+scarcely be surprised if he were now to stretch on to Constantinople.'
+
+'I wonder if he will ever return to England,' said Venetia,
+thoughtfully.
+
+'There is only one event that would induce him,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. And then after a pause he added, 'You will not ask me what
+it is?'
+
+'I wish he were in England, and were happy,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is in your power to effect both results,' said her companion.
+
+'It is useless to recur to that subject,' said Venetia. 'Plantagenet
+knows my feelings towards him, but fate has forbidden our destinies to
+be combined.'
+
+'Then he will never return to England, and never be happy. Ah,
+Venetia! what shall I tell him when we meet? What message am I to bear
+him from you?'
+
+'Those regards which he ever possessed, and has never forfeited,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' said his cousin, shaking his head, 'if any man ever
+had reason to be miserable, it is he.'
+
+'We are none of us very happy, I think,' said Venetia, mournfully. 'I
+am sure when I look back to the last few years of my life it seems
+to me that there is some curse hanging over our families. I cannot
+penetrate it; it baffles me.'
+
+'I am sure,' said Captain Cadurcis with great animation, 'nay, I would
+pledge my existence cheerfully on the venture, that if Lady Annabel
+would only relent towards Cadurcis, we should all be the happiest
+people in the world.'
+
+'Heigho!' said Venetia. 'There are other cares in our house besides
+our unfortunate acquaintance with your cousin. We were the last people
+in the world with whom he should ever have become connected.'
+
+'And yet it was an intimacy that commenced auspiciously,' said her
+friend. 'I am sure I have sat with Cadurcis, and listened to him by
+the hour, while he has told me of all the happy days at Cherbury when
+you were both children; the only happy days, according to him, that he
+ever knew.'
+
+'Yes! they were happy days,' said Venetia.
+
+'And what connection could have offered a more rational basis for
+felicity than your union?' he continued. 'Whatever the world may
+think, I, who know Cadurcis to the very bottom of his heart, feel
+assured that you never would have repented for an instant becoming the
+sharer of his life; your families were of equal rank, your estates
+joined, he felt for your mother the affection of a son. There seemed
+every element that could have contributed to earthly bliss. As for his
+late career, you who know all have already, have always indeed,
+viewed it with charity. Placed in his position, who could have acted
+otherwise? I know very well that his genius, which might recommend
+him to another woman, is viewed by your mother with more than
+apprehension. It is true that a man of his exquisite sensibility
+requires sympathies as refined to command his nature. It is no common
+mind that could maintain its hold over Cadurcis, and his spirit could
+not yield but to rare and transcendent qualities. He found them,
+Venetia, he found them in her whom he had known longest and most
+intimately, and loved from his boyhood. Talk of constancy, indeed! who
+has been so constant as my cousin? No, Venetia! you may think fit to
+bow to the feelings of your mother, and it would be impertinence in me
+to doubt for an instant the propriety of your conduct: I do not doubt
+it; I admire it; I admire you, and everything you have done; none can
+view your behaviour throughout all these painful transactions with
+more admiration, I might even say with more reverence, than myself;
+but, Venetia, you never can persuade me, you have never attempted to
+persuade me, that you yourself are incredulous of the strength and
+permanency of my cousin's love.'
+
+'Ah, George! you are our friend!' said Venetia, a tear stealing down
+her cheek. 'But, indeed, we must not talk of these things. As for
+myself, I think not of happiness. I am certain I am not born to be
+happy. I wish only to live calmly; contentedly, I would say; but that,
+perhaps, is too much. My feelings have been so harrowed, my mind so
+harassed, during these last few years, and so many causes of pain and
+misery seem ever hovering round my existence, that I do assure you,
+my dear friend, I have grown old before my time. Ah! you may smile,
+George, but my heart is heavy; it is indeed.'
+
+'I wish I could lighten it,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'I fear I am
+somewhat selfish in wishing you to marry my cousin, for then you know
+I should have a permanent and authentic claim to your regard. But no
+one, at least I think so, can feel more deeply interested in your
+welfare than I do. I never knew any one like you, and I always tell
+Cadurcis so, and that I think makes him worse, but I cannot help it.'
+
+Venetia could not refrain from smiling at the simplicity of this
+confession.
+
+'Well,' continued her companion,' everything, after all, is for the
+best. You and Plantagenet are both very young; I live in hopes that I
+shall yet see you Lady Cadurcis.'
+
+Venetia shook her head, but was not sorry that their somewhat
+melancholy conversation should end in a livelier vein. So they entered
+the villa.
+
+The hour of parting was painful, and the natural gaiety of Captain
+Cadurcis deserted him. He had become greatly attached to the Herberts.
+Without any female relatives of his own, their former intimacy and
+probable connection with his cousin had taught him to look upon them
+in some degree in the light of kindred. He had originally indeed
+become acquainted with them in all the blaze of London society, not
+very calculated to bring out the softer tints and more subdued tones
+of our character, but even then the dignified grace of Lady Annabel
+and the radiant beauty of Venetia, had captivated him, and he had
+cultivated their society with assiduity and extreme pleasure. The
+grand crisis of his cousin's fortunes had enabled him to become
+intimate with the more secret and serious qualities of Venetia, and
+from that moment he had taken the deepest interest in everything
+connected with her. His happy and unexpected meeting in Italy had
+completed the spell; and now that he was about to leave them,
+uncertain even if they should ever meet again, his soft heart
+trembled, and he could scarcely refrain from tears as he pressed their
+hands, and bade them his sincere adieus.
+
+The moon had risen, ere he entered his boat, and flung a rippling line
+of glittering light on the bosom of the lake. The sky was without a
+cloud, save a few thin fleecy vapours that hovered over the azure brow
+of a distant mountain. The shores of the lake were suffused with the
+serene effulgence, and every object was so distinct, that the eye was
+pained by the lights of the villages, that every instant became more
+numerous and vivid. The bell of a small chapel on the opposite shore,
+and the distant chant of some fishermen still working at their nets,
+were the only sounds that broke the silence which they did not
+disturb. Reclined in his boat, George Cadurcis watched the vanishing
+villa of the Herberts, until the light in the principal chamber was
+the only sign that assured him of its site. That chamber held Venetia,
+the unhappy Venetia! He covered his face with his hand when even
+the light of her chamber vanished, and, full of thoughts tender and
+disconsolate, he at length arrived at Arona.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Pursuant to their plans, the Herberts left the Lago Maggiore towards
+the end of October, and proceeded by gentle journeys to the Apennines.
+Before they crossed this barrier, they were to rest awhile in one of
+the Lombard cities; and now they were on the point of reaching Arquâ,
+which Venetia had expressed a strong desire to visit.
+
+At the latter part of the last century, the race of tourists, the
+offspring of a long peace, and the rapid fortunes made during the war,
+did not exist. Travelling was then confined to the aristocracy,
+and though the English, when opportunity offered, have ever been a
+restless people, the gentle bosom of the Euganean Hills was then
+rarely disturbed amid its green and sequestered valleys.
+
+There is not perhaps in all the Italian region, fertile as it is in
+interesting associations and picturesque beauty, a spot that tradition
+and nature have so completely combined to hallow, as the last
+residence of Petrarch. It seems, indeed, to have been formed for the
+retirement of a pensive and poetic spirit. It recedes from the world
+by a succession of delicate acclivities clothed with vineyards and
+orchards, until, winding within these hills, the mountain hamlet is
+at length discovered, enclosed by two ridges that slope towards each
+other, and seem to shut out all the passions of a troubled race. The
+houses are scattered at intervals on the steep sides of these summits,
+and on a little knoll is the mansion of the poet, built by himself,
+and commanding a rich and extensive view, that ends only with the
+shores of the Adriatic sea. His tomb, a sarcophagus of red marble,
+supported by pillars, doubtless familiar to the reader, is at hand;
+and, placed on an elevated site, gives a solemn impression to a scene,
+of which the character would otherwise be serenely cheerful.
+
+Our travellers were surprised to find that the house of the poet was
+inhabited by a very different tenant to the rustic occupier they had
+anticipated. They heard that a German gentleman had within the last
+year fixed upon it as the residence of himself and his wife. The
+peasants were profuse in their panegyrics of this visitor, whose
+arrival had proved quite an era in the history of their village.
+According to them, a kinder and more charitable gentleman never
+breathed; his whole life was spent in studying and contributing to the
+happiness of those around him. The sick, the sorrowful, and the needy
+were ever sure of finding a friend in him, and merit a generous
+patron. From him came portions to the portionless; no village maiden
+need despair of being united to her betrothed, while he could assist
+her; and at his own cost he had sent to the academy of Bologna, a
+youth whom his father would have made a cowherd, but whom nature
+predisposed to be a painter. The inhabitants believed this benevolent
+and generous person was a physician, for he attended the sick,
+prescribed for their complaints, and had once even performed an
+operation with great success. It seemed that, since Petrarch, no one
+had ever been so popular at Arquâ as this kind German. Lady Annabel
+and Venetia were interested with the animated narratives of the
+ever-active beneficence of this good man, and Lady Annabel especially
+regretted that his absence deprived her of the gratification of
+becoming acquainted with a character so rare and so invaluable. In the
+meantime they availed themselves of the offer of his servants to view
+the house of Petrarch, for their master had left orders, that his
+absence should never deprive a pilgrim from paying his homage to the
+shrine of genius.
+
+The house, consisting of two floors, had recently been repaired by
+the present occupier. It was simply furnished. The ground-floor was
+allotted to the servants. The upper story contained five rooms, three
+of which were of good size, and two closets. In one of these were the
+traditionary chair and table of Petrarch, and here, according to their
+guides, the master of the house passed a great portion of his time in
+study, to which, by their account, he seemed devoted. The adjoining
+chamber was his library; its windows opened on a balcony looking on
+two lofty and conical hills, one topped with a convent, while the
+valley opened on the side and spread into a calm and very pleasant
+view. Of the other apartments, one served as a saloon, but there was
+nothing in it remarkable, except an admirably painted portrait of a
+beautiful woman, which the servant informed them was their mistress.
+
+'But that surely is not a German physiognomy?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'The mistress is an Italian,' replied the servant.
+
+'She is very handsome, of whatever nation she may be,' replied Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Oh! how I should have liked to have met these happy people, mamma,'
+said Venetia, 'for happy they surely must be.'
+
+'They seem to be good people,' said Lady Annabel. 'It really lightened
+my heart to hear of all this gentleman's kind deeds.'
+
+'Ah! if the signora only knew the master,' said their guide, 'she
+would indeed know a good man.'
+
+They descended to the garden, which certainly was not like the garden
+of their villa; it had been but lately a wilderness of laurels, but
+there were evidences that the eye and hand of taste were commencing
+its restoration with effect.
+
+'The master did this,' said their guide. 'He will allow no one to work
+in the garden but himself. It is a week since he went to Bologna, to
+see our Paulo. He gained a prize at the academy, and his father begged
+the master to be present when it was conferred on him; he said it
+would do his son so much good! So the master went, though it is the
+only time he has quitted Quâ since he came to reside here.'
+
+'And how long has he resided here?' inquired Venetia.
+
+''Tis the second autumn,' said the guide, 'and he came in the spring.
+If the signora would only wait, we expect the master home to-night or
+to-morrow, and he would be glad to see her.'
+
+'We cannot wait, my friend,' said Lady Annabel, rewarding the guide;
+'but you will thank your master in our names, for the kindness we have
+experienced. You are all happy in such a friend.'
+
+'I must write my name in Petrarch's house,' said Venetia. 'Adieu,
+happy Arquâ! Adieu, happy dwellers in this happy valley!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Just as Lady Annabel and her daughter arrived at Rovigo, one of those
+sudden and violent storms that occasionally occur at the termination
+of an Italian autumn raged with irresistible fury. The wind roared
+with a noise that overpowered the thunder; then came a rattling shower
+of hail, with stones as big as pigeons' eggs, succeeded by rain, not
+in showers, but literally in cataracts. The only thing to which
+a tempest of rain in Italy can be compared is the bursting of a
+waterspout. Venetia could scarcely believe that this could be the same
+day of which the golden morning had found her among the sunny hills of
+Arquâ. This unexpected vicissitude induced Lady Annabel to alter her
+plans, and she resolved to rest at Rovigo, where she was glad to find
+that they could be sheltered in a commodious inn.
+
+The building had originally been a palace, and in its halls and
+galleries, and the vast octagonal vestibule on which the principal
+apartments opened, it retained many noble indications of the purposes
+to which it was formerly destined.
+
+At present, a lazy innkeeper who did nothing; his bustling wife,
+who seemed equally at home in the saloon, the kitchen, and even the
+stable; and a solitary waiter, were the only inmates, except the
+Herberts, and a travelling party, who had arrived shortly after them,
+and who, like them, had been driven by stress of weather to seek
+refuge at a place where otherwise they had not intended to remain.
+
+A blazing fire of pine wood soon gave cheerfulness to the vast and
+somewhat desolate apartment into which our friends had been ushered;
+their sleeping-room was adjoining, but separated. In spite of the
+lamentations of Pauncefort, who had been drenched to the skin, and who
+required much more waiting upon than her mistress, Lady Annabel and
+Venetia at length produced some degree of comfort. They drew the table
+near the fire; they ensconced themselves behind an old screen; and,
+producing their books and work notwithstanding the tempest, they
+contrived to domesticate themselves at Rovigo.
+
+'I cannot help thinking of Arquâ and its happy tenants, mamma,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'And yet, perhaps, they may have their secret sorrows,' said
+Lady Annabel. 'I know not why, I always associate seclusion with
+unhappiness.'
+
+Venetia remembered Cherbury. Their life at Cherbury was like the life
+of the German at Arquâ. A chance visitor to Cherbury in their absence,
+viewing the beautiful residence and the fair domain, and listening to
+the tales which they well might hear of all her mother's grace and
+goodness, might perhaps too envy its happy occupiers. But were they
+happy? Had they no secret sorrows? Was their seclusion associated with
+unhappiness? These were reflections that made Venetia grave; but she
+opened her journal, and, describing the adventures and feelings of the
+morning, she dissipated some mournful reminiscences.
+
+The storm still raged, Venetia had quitted the saloon in which her
+mother and herself had been sitting, and had repaired to the adjoining
+chamber to fetch a book. The door of this room opened, as all the
+other entrances of the different apartments, on to the octagonal
+vestibule. Just as she was quitting the room, and about to return to
+her mother, the door of the opposite chamber opened, and there came
+forward a gentleman in a Venetian dress of black velvet. His stature
+was much above the middle height, though his figure, which was
+remarkably slender, was bowed; not by years certainly, for his
+countenance, though singularly emaciated, still retained traces
+of youth. His hair, which he wore very long, descended over his
+shoulders, and must originally have been of a light golden colour, but
+now was severely touched with grey. His countenance was very pallid,
+so colourless indeed that its aspect was almost unearthly; but his
+large blue eyes, that were deeply set in his majestic brow, still
+glittered with fire, and their expression alone gave life to a visage,
+which, though singularly beautiful in its outline, from its faded and
+attenuated character seemed rather the countenance of a corpse than of
+a breathing being.
+
+The glance of the stranger caught that of Venetia, and seemed to
+fascinate her. She suddenly became motionless; wildly she stared at
+the stranger, who, in his turn, seemed arrested in his progress, and
+stood still as a statue, with his eyes fixed with absorbing interest
+on the beautiful apparition before him. An expression of perplexity
+and pain flitted over the amazed features of Venetia; and then it
+seemed that, by some almost supernatural effort, confusion amounting
+to stupefaction suddenly brightened and expanded into keen and
+overwhelming intelligence. Exclaiming in a frenzied tone, 'My father!'
+Venetia sprang forward, and fell senseless on the stranger's breast.
+
+Such, after so much mystery, so many aspirations, so much anxiety, and
+so much suffering, such was the first meeting of Venetia Herbert with
+her father!
+
+Marmion Herbert, himself trembling and speechless, bore the apparently
+lifeless Venetia into his apartment. Not permitting her for a moment
+to quit his embrace, he seated himself, and gazed silently on the
+inanimate and unknown form he held so strangely within his arms. Those
+lips, now closed as if in death, had uttered however one word
+which thrilled to his heart, and still echoed, like a supernatural
+annunciation, within his ear. He examined with an eye of agitated
+scrutiny the fair features no longer sensible of his presence. He
+gazed upon that transparent brow, as if he would read some secret in
+its pellucid veins; and touched those long locks of golden hair with a
+trembling finger, that seemed to be wildly seeking for some vague and
+miraculous proof of inexpressible identity. The fair creature had
+called him 'Father.' His dreaming reveries had never pictured a being
+half so beautiful! She called him 'Father!' Tha word had touched
+his brain, as lightning cuts a tree. He looked around him with a
+distracted air, then gazed on the tranced form he held with a glance
+which would have penetrated her soul, and murmured unconsciously the
+wild word she had uttered. She called him 'Father!' He dared not think
+who she might be. His thoughts were wandering in a distant land;
+visions of another life, another country, rose before him, troubled
+and obscure. Baffled aspirations, and hopes blighted in the bud, and
+the cherished secrets of his lorn existence, clustered like clouds
+upon his perplexed, yet creative, brain. She called him, 'Father!' It
+was a word to make him mad. 'Father!' This beautiful being had
+called him 'Father,' and seemed to have expired, as it were, in the
+irresistible expression. His heart yearned to her; he had met her
+embrace with an inexplicable sympathy; her devotion had seemed, as it
+were, her duty and his right. Yet who was she? He was a father. It
+was a fact, a fact alike full of solace and mortification, the
+consciousness of which never deserted him. But he was the father of an
+unknown child; to him the child of his poetic dreams, rather than his
+reality. And now there came this radiant creature, and called him
+'Father!' Was he awake, and in the harsh busy world; or was it the
+apparition of au over-excited imagination, brooding too constantly on
+one fond idea, on which he now gazed so fixedly? Was this some spirit?
+Would that she would speak again! Would that those sealed lips would
+part and utter but one word, would but again call him 'Father,' and he
+asked no more!
+
+'Father!' to be called 'Father' by one whom he could not name, by one
+over whom he mused in solitude, by one to whom he had poured forth all
+the passion of his desolate soul; to be called 'Father' by this being
+was the aspiring secret of his life. He had painted her to himself in
+his loneliness, he had conjured up dreams of ineffable loveliness, and
+inexpressible love; he had led with her an imaginary life of thrilling
+tenderness; he had indulged in a delicious fancy of mutual interchange
+of the most exquisite offices of our nature; and then, when he had
+sometimes looked around him, and found no daughter there, no beaming
+countenance of purity to greet him with its constant smile, and
+receive the quick and ceaseless tribute of his vigilant affection, the
+tears had stolen down his lately-excited features, all the consoling
+beauty of his visions had vanished into air, he had felt the deep
+curse of his desolation, and had anathematised the cunning brain
+that made his misery a thousand-fold keener by the mockery of its
+transporting illusions.
+
+And now there came this transcendent creature, with a form more
+glowing than all his dreams; a voice more musical than a seraphic
+chorus, though it had uttered but one thrilling word: there came this
+transcendent creature, beaming with grace, beauty, and love, and had
+fallen upon his heart, and called him 'Father!'
+
+Herbert looked up to heaven as if waiting for some fresh miracle to
+terminate the harrowing suspense of his tortured mind; Herbert looked
+down upon his mysterious companion; the rose was gradually returning
+to her cheek, her lips seemed to tremble with reviving breath. There
+was only one word more strange to his ear than that which she had
+uttered, but an irresistible impulse sent forth the sound.
+
+'Venetia!' he exclaimed.
+
+The eyes of the maiden slowly opened; she stared around her with a
+vague glance of perplexity, not unmingled with pain; she looked up;
+she caught the rapt gaze of her father, bending over her with
+fondness yet with fear; his lips moved, for a moment they refused to
+articulate, yet at length they again uttered, 'Venetia!' And the only
+response she made was to cling to him with nervous energy, and hide
+her face in his bosom.
+
+Herbert pressed her to his heart. Yet even now he hesitated to credit
+the incredible union. Again he called her by her name, but added with
+rising confidence, 'My Venetia!'
+
+'Your child, your child,' she murmured. 'Your own Venetia.'
+
+He pressed his lips to hers; he breathed over her a thousand
+blessings; she felt his tears trickling on her neck.
+
+At length Venetia looked up and sighed; she was exhausted by the
+violence of her emotions: her father relaxed his grasp with infinite
+tenderness, watching her with delicate solicitude; she leaned her arm
+upon his shoulder with downcast eyes.
+
+Herbert gently took her disengaged hand, and pressed it to his lips.
+'I am as in a dream,' murmured Venetia.
+
+'The daughter of my heart has found her sire,' said Herbert in an
+impassioned voice. 'The father who has long lived upon her fancied
+image; the father, I fear, she has been bred up to hate.'
+
+'Oh! no, no!' said Venetia, speaking rapidly and with a slight shiver;
+'not hate! it was a secret, his being was a secret, his name was never
+mentioned; it was unknown.'
+
+'A secret! My existence a secret from my child, my beautiful fond
+child!' exclaimed Herbert in a tone even more desolate than bitter.
+'Why did they not let you at least hate me!'
+
+'My father!' said Venetia, in a firmer voice, and with returning
+animation, yet gazing around her with a still distracted air, 'Am I
+with my father? The clouds clear from my brain. I remember that we
+met. Where was it? Was it at Arquâ? In the garden? I am with my
+father!' she continued in a rapid tone and with a wild smile. 'Oh! let
+me look on him;' and she turned round, and gazed upon Herbert with
+a serious scrutiny. 'Are you my father?' she continued, in a still,
+small voice. 'Your hair has grown grey since last I saw you; it was
+golden then, like mine. I know you are my father,' she added, after a
+pause, and in a tone almost of gaiety. 'You cannot deceive me. I know
+your name. They did not tell it me; I found it out myself, but it made
+me very ill, very; and I do not think I have ever been quite well
+since. You are Marmion Herbert. My mother had a dog called Marmion,
+when I was a little girl, but I did not know I had a father then.'
+
+'Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, with streaming eyes, as he listened with
+anguish to these incoherent sentences. 'My Venetia loves me!'
+
+'Oh! she always loved you,' replied Venetia; always, always. Before
+she knew her father she loved him. I dare say you think I do not love
+you, because I am not used to speak to a father. Everything must be
+learnt, you know,' she said, with a faint, sad smile; 'and then it
+was so sudden! I do not think my mother knows it yet. And after all,
+though I found you out in a moment, still, I know not why, I thought
+it was a picture. But I read your verses, and I knew them by heart at
+once; but now my memory has worn out, for I am ill, and everything has
+gone cross with me. And all because my father wrote me verses. 'Tis
+very strange, is not it?'
+
+'Sweet lamb of my affections,' exclaimed Herbert to himself, 'I fear
+me much this sudden meeting with one from whose bosom you ought never
+to have been estranged, has been for the moment too great a trial for
+this delicate brain.'
+
+'I will not tell my mother,' said Venetia; 'she will be angry.'
+
+'Your mother, darling; where is your mother?' said Herbert, looking,
+if possible, paler than he was wont.
+
+She was at Arquâ with me, and on the lake for months, but where we are
+now, I cannot say. If I could only remember where we are now,' she
+added with earnestness, and with a struggle to collect herself, 'I
+should know everything.'
+
+'This is Rovigo, my child, the inn of Rovigo. You are travelling with
+your mother. Is it not so?'
+
+'Yes! and we came this morning, and it rained. Now I know everything,'
+said Venetia, with an animated and even cheerful air.
+
+'And we met in the vestibule, my sweet,' continued Herbert, in a
+soothing voice; 'we came out of opposite chambers, and you knew me; my
+Venetia knew me. Try to tell me, my darling,' he added, in a tone of
+coaxing fondness, 'try to remember how Venetia knew her father.'
+
+'He was so like his picture at Cherbury,' replied Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' exclaimed Herbert, with a deep-drawn sigh.
+
+'Only your hair has grown grey, dear father; but it is long, quite as
+long as in your picture.'
+
+'Her dog called Marmion!' murmured Herbert to himself, 'and my
+portrait, too! You saw your father's portrait, then, every day, love?'
+
+'Oh, no! said Venetia, shaking her head, 'only once, only once. And I
+never told mamma. It was where no one could go, but I went there one
+day. It was in a room that no one ever entered except mamma, but
+I entered it. I stole the key, and had a fever, and in my fever I
+confessed all. But I never knew it. Mamma never told me I confessed
+it, until many, many years afterwards. It was the first, the only time
+she ever mentioned to me your name, my father.'
+
+'And she told you to shun me, to hate me? She told you I was a
+villain, a profligate, a demon? eh? eh? Was it not so, Venetia?'
+
+'She told me that you had broken her heart,' said Venetia; 'and she
+prayed to God that her child might not be so miserable.'
+
+'Oh, my Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, pressing her to his breast,
+and in a voice stifled with emotion, 'I feel now we might have been
+happy!'
+
+In the meantime the prolonged absence of her daughter surprised
+Lady Annabel. At length she rose, and walked into their adjoining
+apartment, but to her surprise Venetia was not there. Returning to her
+saloon, she found Pauncefort and the waiter arranging the table for
+dinner.
+
+'Where is Miss Herbert, Pauncefort?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I am sure, my lady, I cannot say. I have no doubt she is in the other
+room.'
+
+'She is not there, for I have just quitted it,' replied Lady Annabel.
+'How very strange! You have not seen the signora?' inquired Lady
+Annabel of the waiter.
+
+'The signora is in the room with the gentleman.'
+
+'The gentleman!' exclaimed Lady Annabel. 'Tell me, good man, what do
+you mean? I am inquiring for my daughter.'
+
+'I know well the signora is talking of her daughter,' replied the
+waiter.
+
+'But do you know my daughter by sight? Surely you you must mean some
+one else.'
+
+'Do I know the signora's daughter?' said the waiter. 'The beautiful
+young lady, with hair like Santa Marguerita, in the church of the Holy
+Trinity! I tell the signora, I saw her carried into numero 4, in the
+arms of the Signor Forestiere, who arrived this morning.'
+
+'Venetia is ill,' said Lady Annabel. 'Show me to the room, my friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accordingly, with a hurried step, following her guide,
+quitted the chamber. Pauncefort remained fixed to the earth, the very
+picture of perplexity.
+
+'Well, to be sure!' she exclaimed, 'was anything ever so strange! In
+the arms of Signor Forestiere! Forestiere. An English name. There is
+no person of the name of Forest that I know. And in his arms, too! I
+should not wonder if it was my lord after all. Well, I should be glad
+if he were to come to light again, for, after all, my lady may say
+what she likes, but if Miss Venetia don't marry Lord Cadurcis, I must
+say marriages were never made in heaven!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The waiter threw open the door of Mr. Herbert's chamber, and Lady
+Annabel swept in with a majesty she generally assumed when about to
+meet strangers. The first thing she beheld was her daughter in
+the arms of a man whose head was bent, and who was embracing her.
+Notwithstanding this astounding spectacle, Lady Annabel neither
+started nor screamed; she only said in an audible tone, and one rather
+expressing astonishment than agitation, 'Venetia!'
+
+Immediately the stranger looked up, and Lady Annabel beheld her
+husband!
+
+She was rooted to the earth. She turned deadly pale; for a moment her
+countenance expressed only terror, but the terror quickly changed into
+aversion. Suddenly she rushed forward, and exclaimed in a tone in
+which decision conquered dismay, 'Restore me my child!'
+
+The moment Herbert had recognised his wife he had dexterously
+disengaged himself from the grasp of Venetia, whom he left on the
+chair, and meeting Lady Annabel with extended arms, that seemed to
+deprecate her wrath, he said, 'I seek not to deprive you of her; she
+is yours, and she is worthy of you; but respect, for a few moments,
+the feelings of a father who has met his only child in a manner so
+unforeseen.'
+
+The presence of her mother instantaneously restored Venetia to
+herself. Her mind was in a moment cleared and settled. Her past and
+peculiar life, and all its incidents, recurred to her with their
+accustomed order, vividness, and truth. She thoroughly comprehended
+her present situation. Actuated by long-cherished feelings and the
+necessity of the occasion, she rose and threw herself at her mother's
+feet and exclaimed, 'O mother! he is my father, love him!'
+
+Lady Annabel stood with an averted countenance, Venetia clinging to
+her hand, which she had caught when she rushed forward, and which now
+fell passive by Lady Annabel's side, giving no sign, by any pressure
+or motion, of the slightest sympathy with her daughter, or feeling for
+the strange and agonising situation in which they were both placed.
+
+'Annabel,' said Herbert, in a voice that trembled, though the speaker
+struggled to appear calm, 'be charitable! I have never intruded upon
+your privacy; I will not now outrage it. Accident, or some diviner
+motive, has brought us together this day. If you will not treat me
+with kindness, look not upon me with aversion before our child.'
+
+Still she was silent and motionless, her countenance hidden from her
+husband and her daughter, but her erect and haughty form betokening
+her inexorable mind. 'Annabel,' said Herbert, who had now withdrawn
+to some distance, and leant against a pillar, 'will not then nearly
+twenty years of desolation purchase one moment of intercourse? I have
+injured you. Be it so. This is not the moment I will defend myself.
+But have I not suffered? Is not this meeting a punishment deeper
+even than your vengeance could devise? Is it nothing to behold this
+beautiful child, and feel that she is only yours? Annabel, look on me,
+look on me only one moment! My frame is bowed, my hair is grey, my
+heart is withered; the principle of existence waxes faint and slack in
+this attenuated frame. I am no longer that Herbert on whom you once
+smiled, but a man stricken with many sorrows. The odious conviction of
+my life cannot long haunt you; yet a little while, and my memory will
+alone remain. Think of this, Annabel; I beseech you, think of it. Oh!
+believe me, when the speedy hour arrives that will consign me to the
+grave, where I shall at least find peace, it will not be utterly
+without satisfaction that you will remember that we met if even by
+accident, and parted at least not with harshness!'
+
+'Mother, dearest mother!' murmured Venetia, 'speak to him, look on
+him!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her mother, without turning her head, but in a calm,
+firm tone, 'your father has seen you, has conversed with you. Between
+your father and myself there can be nothing to communicate, either of
+fact or feeling. Now let us depart.'
+
+'No, no, not depart!' said Venetia franticly. 'You did not say depart,
+dear mother! I cannot go,' she added in a low and half-hysterical
+voice.
+
+'Desert me, then,' said the mother. 'A fitting consequence of your
+private communications with your father,' she added in a tone of
+bitter scorn; and Lady Annabel moved to depart, but Venetia, still
+kneeling, clung to her convulsively.
+
+'Mother, mother, you shall not go; you shall not leave me; we will
+never part, mother,' continued Venetia, in a tone almost of violence,
+as she perceived her mother give no indication of yielding to her
+wish. 'Are my feelings then nothing?' she then exclaimed. 'Is this
+your sense of my fidelity? Am I for ever to be a victim?' She loosened
+her hold of her mother's hand, her mother moved on, Venetia fell upon
+her forehead and uttered a faint scream. The heart of Lady Annabel
+relented when she fancied her daughter suffered physical pain, however
+slight; she hesitated, she turned, she hastened to her child; her
+husband had simultaneously advanced; in the rapid movement and
+confusion her hand touched that of Herbert.
+
+'I yield her to you, Annabel,' said Herbert, placing Venetia in her
+mother's arms. 'You mistake me, as you have often mistaken me, if you
+think I seek to practise on the feelings of this angelic child. She is
+yours; may she compensate you for the misery I have caused you, but
+never sought to occasion!'
+
+'I am not hurt, dear mother,' said Venetia, as her mother tenderly
+examined her forehead. 'Dear, dear mother, why did you reproach me?'
+
+'Forget it,' said Lady Annabel, in a softened tone; 'for indeed you
+are irreproachable.'
+
+'O Annabel!' said Herbert, 'may not this child be some atonement, this
+child, of whom I solemnly declare I would not deprive you, though I
+would willingly forfeit my life for a year of her affection; and your,
+your sufferance,' he added.
+
+'Mother! speak to him,' said Venetia, with her head on her mother's
+bosom, who still, however, remained rigidly standing. But Lady Annabel
+was silent.
+
+'Your mother was ever stern and cold, Venetia,' said Herbert, the
+bitterness of his heart at length expressing itself.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, with great energy; 'never; you know not my
+mother. Was she stern and cold when she visited each night in secret
+your portrait?' said Venetia, looking round upon her astonished
+father, with her bright grey eye. 'Was she stern and cold when she
+wept over your poems, those poems whose characters your own hand had
+traced? Was she stern and cold when she hung a withered wreath on your
+bridal bed, the bed to which I owe my miserable being? Oh, no, my
+father! sad was the hour of separation for my mother and yourself.
+It may have dimmed the lustre of her eye, and shaded your locks with
+premature grey; but whatever may have been its inscrutable cause,
+there was one victim of that dark hour, less thought of than
+yourselves, and yet a greater sufferer than both, the being in whose
+heart you implanted affections, whose unfulfilled tenderness has made
+that wretched thing they call your daughter.'
+
+'Annabel!' exclaimed Herbert, rapidly advancing, with an imploring
+gesture, and speaking in a tone of infinite anguish, 'Annabel,
+Annabel, even now we can be happy!'
+
+The countenance of his wife was troubled, but its stern expression had
+disappeared. The long-concealed, yet at length irrepressible, emotion
+of Venetia had touched her heart. In the conflict of affection between
+the claims of her two parents, Lady Annabel had observed with a
+sentiment of sweet emotion, in spite of all the fearfulness of the
+meeting, that Venetia had not faltered in her devotion to her mother.
+The mental torture of her child touched her to the quick. In the
+excitement of her anguish, Venetia had expressed a profound sentiment,
+the irresistible truth of which Lady Annabel could no longer
+withstand. She had too long and too fondly schooled herself to look
+upon the outraged wife as the only victim. There was then, at length
+it appeared to this stern-minded woman, another. She had laboured in
+the flattering delusion that the devotion of a mother's love might
+compensate to Venetia for the loss of that other parent, which in some
+degree Lady Annabel had occasioned her; for the worthless husband, had
+she chosen to tolerate the degrading connection, might nevertheless
+have proved a tender father. But Nature, it seemed, had shrunk from
+the vain effort of the isolated mother. The seeds of affection for
+the father of her being were mystically implanted in the bosom of his
+child. Lady Annabel recalled the harrowing hours that this attempt by
+her to curb and control the natural course and rising sympathies
+of filial love had cost her child, on whom she had so vigilantly
+practised it. She recalled her strange aspirations, her inspired
+curiosity, her brooding reveries, her fitful melancholy, her terrible
+illness, her resignation, her fidelity, her sacrifices: there came
+across the mind of Lady Annabel a mortifying conviction that the
+devotion to her child, on which she had so rated herself, might
+after all only prove a subtle form of profound selfishness; and that
+Venetia, instead of being the idol of her love, might eventually be
+the martyr of her pride. And, thinking of these things, she wept.
+
+This evidence of emotion, which in such a spirit Herbert knew how to
+estimate, emboldened him to advance; he fell on one knee before her
+and her daughter; gently he stole her hand, and pressed it to his
+lips. It was not withdrawn, and Venetia laid her hand upon theirs,
+and would have bound them together had her mother been relentless.
+It seemed to Venetia that she was at length happy, but she would
+not speak, she would not disturb the still and silent bliss of the
+impending reconciliation. Was it then indeed at hand? In truth, the
+deportment of Herbert throughout the whole interview, so delicate, so
+subdued, so studiously avoiding the slightest rivaly with his wife
+in the affections of their child, and so carefully abstaining from
+attempting in the slightest degree to control the feelings of Venetia,
+had not been lost upon Lady Annabel. And when she thought of him, so
+changed from what he had been, grey, bent, and careworn, with all the
+lustre that had once so fascinated her, faded, and talking of that
+impending fate which his wan though spiritual countenance too clearly
+intimated, her heart melted.
+
+Suddenly the door burst open, and there stalked into the room a woman
+of eminent but most graceful stature, and of a most sovereign and
+voluptuous beauty. She was habited in the Venetian dress; her dark
+eyes glittered with fire, her cheek was inflamed with no amiable
+emotion, and her long black hair was disordered by the violence of her
+gesture.
+
+'And who are these?' she exclaimed in a shrill voice.
+
+All started; Herbert sprang up from his position with a glance of
+withering rage. Venetia was perplexed, Lady Annabel looked round, and
+recognised the identical face, however distorted by passion, that she
+had admired in the portrait at Arquâ.
+
+'And who are these?' exclaimed the intruder, advancing. 'Perfidious
+Marmion! to whom do you dare to kneel?'
+
+Lady Annabel drew herself up to a height that seemed to look down even
+upon this tall stranger. The expression of majestic scorn that she
+cast upon the intruder made her, in spite of all her violence and
+excitement, tremble and be silent: she felt cowed she knew not why.
+
+'Come, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel with all her usual composure, 'let
+me save my daughter at least from this profanation,'
+
+'Annabel!' said Herbert, rushing after them, 'be charitable, be just!'
+He followed them to the threshold of the door; Venetia was silent, for
+she was alarmed.
+
+'Adieu, Marmion!' said Lady Annabel, looking over her shoulder with a
+bitter smile, but placing her daughter before her, as if to guard her.
+'Adieu, Marmion! adieu for ever!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The moon shone brightly on the house of Petrarch, and the hamlet
+slept in peace. Not a sound was heard, save the shrill voice of the
+grasshoppers, so incessant that its monotony blended, as it were, with
+the stillness. Over the green hills and the far expanse of the sheeny
+plain, the beautiful light of heaven fell with all the magical repose
+of the serene hour, an hour that brought to one troubled breast, and
+one distracted spirit, in that still and simple village, no quietude.
+
+Herbert came forth into the balcony of his residence, and leaning over
+the balustrade, revolved in his agitated mind the strange and stirring
+incidents of the day. His wife and his child had quitted the inn of
+Rovigo instantly after that mortifying rencounter that had dashed so
+cruelly to the ground all his sweet and quickly-rising hopes. As for
+his companion, she had by his peremptory desire returned to Arquâ
+alone; he was not in a mood to endure her society; but he had
+conducted himself to her mildly, though with firmness; he had promised
+to follow her, and, in pursuance of his pledge, he rode home alone.
+
+He was greeted on his return by his servant, full of the the visit
+of the morning. With an irresistible curiosity, Herbert had made him
+describe every incident that had occurred, and repeat a hundred times
+every word that the visitors had uttered. He listened with some
+consolation, however mournful, to his wife's praises of the unknown
+stranger's life; he gazed with witching interest upon the autograph of
+his daughter on the wall of his library. He had not confessed to his
+mistress the relation which the two strangers bore to him; yet he was
+influenced in concealing the real circumstances, only by an indefinite
+sentiment, that made him reluctant to acknowledge to her ties so
+pure. The feelings of the parent overpowered the principles of the
+philosopher. This lady indeed, although at the moment she had indulged
+in so violent an ebullition of temper, possessed little influence over
+the mind of her companion. Herbert, however fond of solitude,
+required in his restricted world the graceful results of feminine
+superintendence. Time had stilled his passions, and cooled the fervour
+of his soul. The age of his illusions had long passed. This was a
+connection that had commenced in no extravagant or romantic mood, and
+perhaps for that reason had endured. He had become acquainted with her
+on his first unknown arrival in Italy, from America, now nearly two
+years back. It had been maintained on his side by a temper naturally
+sweet, and which, exhausted by years of violent emotion, now required
+only repose; seeking, in a female friend, a form that should not
+outrage an eye ever musing on the beautiful, and a disposition that
+should contribute to his comfort, and never ruffle his feelings.
+Separated from his wife by her own act, whatever might have been its
+impulse, and for so long an interval, it was a connection which the
+world in general might have looked upon with charity, which in her
+calmer hours one would imagine even Lady Annabel might have glanced
+over without much bitterness. Certainly it was one which, under all
+the circumstances of the case, could scarcely be esteemed by her as an
+outrage or an insult; but even Herbert felt, with all his philosophy
+and proud freedom from prejudice, that the rencounter of the morning
+was one which no woman could at the moment tolerate, few eventually
+excuse, and which of all incidents was that which would most tend to
+confirm his wife in her stoical obduracy. Of his offences towards
+her, whatever were their number or their quality, this surely was the
+least, and yet its results upon his life and fortunes would in all
+probability only be equalled by the mysterious cause of their original
+separation. But how much more bitter than that original separation
+was their present parting! Mortifying and annoying as had been the
+original occurrence, it was one that many causes and considerations
+combined to enable Herbert to support. He was then in the very prime
+of youth, inexperienced, sanguine, restless, and adventurous, with the
+whole world and its unknown results before him, and freedom for which
+he ever sighed to compensate for the loss of that domestic joy that
+he was then unable to appreciate. But now twenty years, which, in the
+career of such a spirit, were equal to a century of the existence of
+coarser clay, had elapsed; he was bowed with thought and suffering, if
+not by time; his conscience was light, but it was sad; his illusions
+had all vanished; he knew the world, and all that the world could
+bring, and he disregarded them; and the result of all his profound
+study, lofty aspirations, and great conduct was, that he sighed for
+rest. The original catastrophe had been merely a separation between
+a husband and a wife; the one that had just happened, involved other
+feelings; the father was also separated from his child, and a child of
+such surpassing qualities, that his brief acquaintance with her had
+alone sufficed to convert his dream of domestic repose into a vision
+of domestic bliss.
+
+Beautiful Venetia! so fair, and yet so dutiful; with a bosom teeming
+with such exquisite sensibilities, and a mind bright with such acute
+and elevated intelligence! An abstract conception of the sentiments
+that might subsist between a father and a daughter, heightened by all
+the devices of a glowing imagination, had haunted indeed occasionally
+the solitary musing of Marmion Herbert; but what was this creation of
+his poetic brain compared with the reality that now had touched his
+human heart? Vainly had he believed that repose was the only solace
+that remained for his exhausted spirit. He found that a new passion
+now swayed his soul; a passion, too, that he had never proved; of
+a nature most peculiar; pure, gentle, refined, yet ravishing and
+irresistible, compared with which all former transports, no matter how
+violent, tumultuous, and exciting, seemed evanescent and superficial:
+they were indeed the wind, the fire, and the tempest that had gone
+before, but this was the still small voice that followed, excelled,
+and survived their might and majesty, unearthly and eternal!
+
+His heart melted to his daughter, nor did he care to live without her
+love and presence. His philosophical theories all vanished. He felt
+how dependent we are in this world on our natural ties, and how
+limited, with all his arrogance, is the sphere of man. Dreaming of
+philanthropy, he had broken his wife's heart, and bruised, perhaps
+irreparably, the spirit of his child; he had rendered those miserable
+who depended on his love, and for whose affection his heart now
+yearned to that degree, that he could not contemplate existence
+without their active sympathy.
+
+Was it then too late! Was it then impossible to regain that Paradise
+he had forfeited so weakly, and of whose amaranthine bowers, but a few
+hours since, he had caught such an entrancing glimpse, of which the
+gate for a moment seemed about to re-open! In spite of all, then,
+Annabel still loved him, loved him passionately, visited his picture,
+mused over the glowing expression of their loves, wept over the bridal
+bed so soon deserted! She had a dog, too, when Venetia was a child,
+and called it Marmion.
+
+The recollection of this little trait, so trifling, yet so touching,
+made him weep even with wildness. The tears poured down his cheeks in
+torrents, he sobbed convulsively, his very heart seemed to burst. For
+some minutes he leant over the balustrade in a paroxysm of grief.
+
+He looked up. The convent hill rose before him, bright in the moon;
+beneath was his garden; around him the humble roofs that he made
+happy. It was not without an effort that he recalled the locality,
+that he remembered he was at Arquâ. And who was sleeping within the
+house? Not his wife, Annabel was far away with their daughter. The
+vision of his whole life passed before him. Study and strife, and fame
+and love; the pride of the philosopher, the rapture of the poet,
+the blaze of eloquence, the clash of arms, the vows of passion, the
+execration and the applause of millions; both once alike welcome to
+his indomitable soul! And what had they borne to him? Misery. He
+called up the image of his wife, young, beautiful, and noble, with a
+mind capable of comprehending his loftiest and his finest moods, with
+a soul of matchless purity, and a temper whose winning tenderness had
+only been equalled by her elevated sense of self-respect; a woman that
+might have figured in the days of chivalry, soft enough to be his
+slave, but too proud to be his victim. He called up her image in
+the castle of his fathers, exercising in a domain worthy of such a
+mistress, all those sweet offices of life which here, in this hired
+roof in a strange land, and with his crippled means, he had yet found
+solacing. He conjured before him a bud by the side of that beauteous
+flower, sharing all her lustre and all her fragrance, his own Venetia!
+What happiness might not have been his? And for what had he forfeited
+it? A dream, with no dream-like beauty; a perturbed, and restless, and
+agitated dream, from which he had now woke shattered and exhausted.
+
+He had sacrificed his fortune, he had forfeited his country, he had
+alienated his wife, and he had lost his child; the home of his heroic
+ancestry, the ancient land whose fame and power they had created, the
+beauteous and gifted woman who would have clung for ever to his bosom,
+and her transcendant offspring worthy of all their loves! Profound
+philosopher!
+
+The clock of the convent struck the second hour after midnight.
+Herbert started. And all this time where were Annabel and Venetia?
+They still lived, they were in the same country, an hour ago they were
+under the same roof, in the same chamber; their hands had joined,
+their hearts had opened, for a moment he had dared to believe that all
+that he cared for might be regained. And why was it not? The cause,
+the cause? It recurred to him with associations of dislike, of
+disgust, of wrath, of hatred, of which one whose heart was so tender,
+and whose reason was so clear, could under the influence of no other
+feelings have been capable. The surrounding scene, that had so often
+soothed his mournful soul, and connected it with the last hours of
+a spirit to whom he bore much resemblance, was now looked upon with
+aversion. To rid himself of ties, now so dreadful, was all his
+ambition. He entered the house quickly, and, seating himself in his
+closet, he wrote these words:
+
+'You beheld this morning my wife and child; we can meet no more. All
+that I can effect to console you under this sudden separation shall be
+done. My banker from Bologna will be here in two days; express to him
+all your wishes.'
+
+It was written, sealed, directed, and left upon the table at which
+they had so often been seated. Herbert descended into the garden,
+saddled his horse, and in a few minutes, in the heart of night, had
+quitted Arquâ.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The moment that the wife of Marmion Herbert re-entered her saloon, she
+sent for her courier and ordered horses to her carriage instantly.
+Until they were announced as ready, Lady Annabel walked up and down
+the room with an impatient step, but was as completely silent as the
+miserable Venetia, who remained weeping on the sofa. The confusion and
+curiosity of Mistress Pauncefort were extraordinary. She still had a
+lurking suspicion that the gentleman was Lord Cadurcis and she seized
+the first opportunity of leaving the room, and flouncing into that of
+the stranger, as if by mistake, determined to catch a glimpse of him;
+but all her notable skill was baffled, for she had scarcely opened the
+door before she was met by the Italian lady, who received Mistress
+Pauncefort's ready-made apology, and bowed her away. The faithful
+attendant then hurried downstairs to crossexamine the waiter, but,
+though she gained considerable information from that functionary, it
+was of a perplexing nature; for from him she only learnt that the
+stranger lived at Arquâ. 'The German gentleman!' soliloquised Mistress
+Pauncefort; 'and what could he have to say to Miss Venetia! and a
+married man, too! Well, to be sure, there is nothing like travelling
+for adventures! And I must say, considering all that I know, and how
+I have held my tongue for nearly twenty years, I think it is very
+strange indeed of my lady to have any secrets from me. Secrets,
+indeed! Poh!' and Mistress Pauncefort flounced again into Lady
+Annabel's room, with a face of offended pride, knocking the books
+about, dashing down writing cases, tossing about work, and making as
+much noise and disturbance as if she had a separate quarrel with every
+single article under her superintendence.
+
+In the meantime the carriage was prepared, to which they were obliged
+almost to carry Venetia, feeble and stupefied with grief. Uncertain
+of her course, but anxious, in the present state of her daughter, for
+rest and quiet, Lady Annabel ordered the courier to proceed to Padua,
+at which city they arrived late at night, scarcely a word having been
+interchanged during the whole journey between Lady Annabel and her
+child, though infinite were the soft and soothing attentions which the
+mother lavished upon her. Night, however, brought no rest to Venetia;
+and the next day, her state appeared so alarming to Lady Annabel, that
+she would have instantly summoned medical assistance, had it not been
+for Venetia's strong objections. 'Indeed, dear mother,' she said,
+'it is not physicians that I require. They cannot cure me. Let me be
+quiet.'
+
+The same cause, indeed, which during the last five years had at
+intervals so seriously menaced the existence of this unhappy girl, was
+now at work with renovated and even irresistible influence. Her frame
+could no longer endure the fatal action of her over-excited nerves.
+Her first illness, however alarming, had been baffled by time, skill,
+and principally by the vigour of an extremely youthful frame, then a
+stranger to any serious indisposition. At a later period, the change
+of life induced by their residence at Weymouth had permitted her again
+to rally. She had quitted England with renewed symptoms of her former
+attack, but a still more powerful change, not only of scene, but of
+climate and country, and the regular and peaceful life she had led on
+the Lago Maggiore, had again reassured the mind of her anxious mother.
+This last adventure at Rovigo, however, prostrated her. The strange
+surprise, the violent development of feeling, the agonising doubts and
+hopes, the terrible suspense the profound and bitter and overwhelming
+disappointment, all combined to shake her mind to its very
+foundations. She felt for the first time, that she could no longer
+bear up against the torture of her singular position. Her energy was
+entirely exhausted; she was no longer capable of making the slightest
+exertion; she took refuge in that torpid resignation that results from
+utter hopelessness.
+
+Lying on her sofa with her eyes fixed in listless abstraction, the
+scene at Rovigo flitted unceasingly before her languid vision. At
+length she had seen that father, that unknown and mysterious father,
+whose idea had haunted her infancy as if by inspiration; to gain
+the slightest knowledge of whom had cost her many long and acute
+suffering; and round whose image for so many years every thought of
+her intelligence, and every feeling of her heart, had clustered like
+spirits round some dim and mystical altar, At length she had beheld
+him; she had gazed on that spiritual countenance; she had listened to
+the tender accents of that musical voice; within his arms she had been
+folded with rapture, and pressed to a heart that seemed to beat
+only for her felicity. The blessing of her father, uttered by his
+long-loved lips, had descended on her brow, and been sealed with his
+passionate embrace.
+
+The entrance of her mother, that terrible contest of her lacerated
+heart, when her two parents, as it were, appealed to her love, which
+they would not share; the inspiration of her despair, that so suddenly
+had removed the barriers of long years, before whose irresistible
+pathos her father had bent a penitent, and her mother's inexorable
+pride had melted; the ravishing bliss that for a moment had thrilled
+through her, being experienced too for the first time, when she felt
+that her parents were again united and bound by the sweet tie of her
+now happy existence; this was the drama acted before her with an
+almost ceaseless repetition of its transporting incidents; and when
+she looked round, and beheld her mother sitting alone, and watching
+her with a countenance almost of anguish, it was indeed with extreme
+difficulty that Venetia could persuade herself that all had not been a
+reverie; and she was only convinced of the contrary by that heaviness
+of the heart which too quickly assures us of the reality of those
+sorrows of which fancy for a moment may cheat us into scepticism.
+
+And indeed her mother was scarcely less miserable. The sight of
+Herbert, so changed from the form that she remembered; those tones of
+heart-rending sincerity, in which he had mournfully appealed to the
+influence of time and sorrow on his life, still greatly affected her.
+She had indulged for a moment in a dream of domestic love, she had
+cast to the winds the inexorable determination of a life, and had
+mingled her tears with those of her husband and her child. And how
+had she been repaid? By a degrading catastrophe, from whose revolting
+associations her mind recoiled with indignation and disgust. But her
+lingering feeling for her husband, her own mortification, were as
+nothing compared with the harrowing anxiety she now entertained for
+her daughter. To converse with Venetia on the recent occurrence was
+impossible. It was a subject which admitted of no discussion. They
+had passed a week at Padua, and the slightest allusion to what had
+happened had never been made by either Lady Annabel or her child. It
+was only by her lavish testimonies of affection that Lady Annabel
+conveyed to Venetia how deeply she sympathised with her, and how
+unhappy she was herself. She had, indeed, never quitted for a moment
+the side of her daughter, and witnessed each day, with renewed
+anguish, her deplorable condition; for Venetia continued in a state
+which, to those unacquainted with her, might have been mistaken for
+insensibility, but her mother knew too well that it was despair.
+She never moved, she never sighed, nor wept; she took no notice of
+anything that occurred; she sought relief in no resources. Books, and
+drawings, and music, were quite forgotten by her; nothing amused, and
+nothing annoyed her; she was not even fretful; she had, apparently,
+no physical ailment; she remained pale and silent, plunged in an
+absorbing paroxysm of overwhelming woe.
+
+The unhappy Lady Annabel, at a loss how to act, at length thought it
+might be advisable to cross over to Venice. She felt assured now, that
+it would be a long time, if ever, before her child could again endure
+the fatigue of travel; and she thought that for every reason, whether
+for domestic comfort or medical advice, or those multifarious
+considerations which interest the invalid, a capital was by far the
+most desirable residence for them. There was a time when a visit to
+the city that had given her a name had been a favourite dream of
+Venetia; she had often sighed to be within
+
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard.
+
+Those lines of her father had long echoed in her ear; but now the
+proposition called no light to her glazed eye, nor summoned for an
+instant the colour back to her cheek. She listened to her mother's
+suggestion, and expressed her willingness to do whatever she desired.
+Venice to her was now only a name; for, without the presence and the
+united love of both her parents, no spot on earth could interest, and
+no combination of circumstances affect her. To Venice, however, they
+departed, having previously taken care that every arrangement should
+be made for their reception. The English ambassador at the Ducal court
+was a relative of Lady Annabel, and therefore no means or exertions
+were spared to study and secure the convenience and accommodation of
+the invalid. The barge of the ambassador met them at Fusina; and when
+Venetia beheld the towers and cupolas of Venice, suffused with a
+golden light and rising out of the bright blue waters, for a moment
+her spirit seemed to lighten. It is indeed a spectacle as beautiful as
+rare, and one to which the world offers few, if any, rivals. Gliding
+over the great Lagune, the buildings, with which the pictures at
+Cherbury had already made her familiar, gradually rose up before her:
+the mosque-like Church of St. Marc, the tall Campanile red in the sun,
+the Moresco Palace of the Doges, the deadly Bridge of Sighs, and the
+dark structure to which it leads.
+
+Venice had not then fallen. The gorgeous standards of the sovereign
+republic, and its tributary kingdoms, still waved in the Place of St.
+Marc; the Bucentaur was not rotting in the Arsenal, and the warlike
+galleys of the state cruised without the Lagune; a busy and
+picturesque population swarmed in all directions; and the Venetian
+noble, the haughtiest of men, might still be seen proudly moving from
+the council of state, or stepping into a gondola amid a bowing crowd.
+All was stirring life, yet all was silent; the fantastic architecture,
+the glowing sky, the flitting gondolas, and the brilliant crowd
+gliding about with noiseless step, this city without sound, it seemed
+a dream!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The ambassador had engaged for Lady Annabel a palace on the Grand
+Canal, belonging to Count Manfrini. It was a structure of great size
+and magnificence, and rose out of the water with a flight of marble
+steps. Within was a vast gallery, lined with statues and busts on tall
+pedestals; suites of spacious apartments, with marble floors and
+hung with satin; ceilings painted by Tintoretto and full of Turkish
+trophies; furniture alike sumptuous and massy; the gilding, although
+of two hundred years' duration, as bright and burnished as if it
+had but yesterday been touched with the brush; sequin gold, as
+the Venetians tell you to this day with pride. But even their old
+furniture will soon not be left to them, as palaces are now daily
+broken up like old ships, and their colossal spoils consigned to
+Hanway Yard and Bond Street, whence, re-burnished and vamped up, their
+Titantic proportions in time appropriately figure in the boudoirs of
+May Fair and the miniature saloons of St. James'. Many a fine lady now
+sits in a doge's chair, and many a dandy listens to his doom from a
+couch that has already witnessed the less inexorable decrees of the
+Council of Ten.
+
+Amid all this splendour, however, one mournful idea alone pervaded the
+tortured consciousness of Lady Annabel Herbert. Daily the dark truth
+stole upon her with increased conviction, that Venetia had come hither
+only to die. There seemed to the agitated ear of this distracted
+mother a terrible omen even in the very name of her child; and she
+could not resist the persuasion that her final destiny would, in some
+degree, be connected with her fanciful appellation. The physicians,
+for hopeless as Lady Annabel could not resist esteeming their
+interference, Venetia was now surrounded with physicians, shook their
+heads, prescribed different remedies and gave contrary opinions; each
+day, however, their patient became more languid, thinner and more
+thin, until she seemed like a beautiful spirit gliding into the
+saloon, leaning on her mother's arm, and followed by Pauncefort, who
+had now learnt the fatal secret from, her mistress, and whose heart
+was indeed almost broken at the prospect of the calamity that was
+impending over them.
+
+At Padua, Lady Annabel, in her mortified reveries, outraged as she
+conceived by her husband, and anxious about her daughter, had schooled
+herself into visiting her fresh calamities on the head of the unhappy
+Herbert, to whose intrusion and irresistible influence she ascribed
+all the illness of her child; but, as the indisposition of Venetia
+gradually, but surely, increased, until at length it assumed so
+alarming an aspect that Lady Annabel, in the distraction of her mind,
+could no longer refrain from contemplating the most fatal result, she
+had taught herself bitterly to regret the failure of that approaching
+reconciliation which now she could not but believe would, at least,
+have secured her the life of Venetia. Whatever might be the risk
+of again uniting herself with her husband, whatever might be the
+mortification and misery which it might ultimately, or even speedily,
+entail upon her, there was no unhappiness that she could herself
+experience, which for one moment she could put in competition with the
+existence of her child. When that was the question, every feeling
+that had hitherto impelled her conduct assumed a totally different
+complexion. That conduct, in her view, had been a systematic sacrifice
+of self to secure the happiness of her daughter; and the result of all
+her exertions was, that not only her happiness was destroyed, but her
+life was fast vanishing away. To save Venetia, it now appeared to Lady
+Annabel that there was no extremity which she would not endure; and if
+it came to a question, whether Venetia should survive, or whether
+she should even be separated from her mother, her maternal heart now
+assured her that she would not for an instant hesitate in preferring
+an eternal separation to the death of her child. Her terror now worked
+to such a degree upon her character, that she even, at times, half
+resolved to speak to Venetia upon the subject, and contrive some
+method of communicating her wishes to her father; but pride, the
+habitual repugnance of so many years to converse upon the topic,
+mingled also, as should be confessed, with an indefinite apprehension
+of the ill consequences of a conversation of such a character on the
+nervous temperament of her daughter, restrained her.
+
+'My love!' said Lady Annabel, one day to her daughter, 'do you think
+you could go out? The physicians think it of great importance that you
+should attempt to exert yourself, however slightly.'
+
+'Dear mother, if anything could annoy me from your lips, it would
+be to hear you quote these physicians,' said Venetia. 'Their daily
+presence and inquiries irritate me. Let me be at peace. I wish to see
+no one but you.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a voice of great emotion,
+'Venetia--,' and here she paused; 'think of my anxiety.'
+
+'Dear mother, it would be ungrateful for me ever to forget that. But
+you, and you alone, know that my state, whatever it may be, and to
+whatever it may be I am reconciled, is not produced by causes over
+which these physicians have any control, over which no one has
+control--now,' added Venetia, in a tone of great mournfulness.
+
+For here we must remark that so inexperienced was Venetia in the
+feelings of others, and so completely did she judge of the strength
+and purity of their emotions from her own, that reflection, since the
+terrible adventure of Rovigo, had only convinced her that it was no
+longer in her mother's power to unite herself again with her other
+parent. She had taught herself to look upon her father's burst of
+feeling towards Lady Annabel as the momentary and inevitable result of
+a meeting so unexpected and overpowering, but she did not doubt that
+the stranger whose presence had ultimately so fatally clouded that
+interview of promise, possessed claims upon Marmion Herbert which he
+would neither break, nor, upon reflection, be desirous to question. It
+was then the conviction that a reconciliation between her parents was
+now impossible, in which her despair originated, and she pictured to
+herself her father once more at Arquâ disturbed, perhaps, for a day
+or two, as he naturally must be, by an interview so sudden and so
+harassing; shedding a tear, perhaps, in secret to the wife whom he had
+injured, and the child whom he had scarcely seen; but relapsing, alike
+from the force of habit and inclination, into those previous and
+confirmed feelings, under whose influence, she was herself a witness,
+his life had been so serene, and even so laudable. She was confirmed
+in these opinions by the circumstance of their never having heard
+since from him. Placed in his situation, if indeed an irresistible
+influence were not controlling him, would he have hesitated for a
+moment to have prevented even their departure, or to have pursued
+them; to have sought at any rate some means of communicating with
+them? He was plainly reconciled to his present position, and felt that
+under these circumstances silence on his part was alike kindest and
+most discreet. Venetia had ceased, therefore, to question the justice
+or the expediency, or even the abstract propriety, of her mother's
+conduct. She viewed their condition now as the result of stern
+necessity. She pitied her mother, and for herself she had no hope.
+
+There was then much meaning in that little monosyllable with which
+Venetia concluded her reply to her mother. She had no hope 'now.' Lady
+Annabel, however, ascribed it to a very different meaning; she only
+believed that her daughter was of opinion that nothing would induce
+her now to listen to the overtures of her father. Prepared for any
+sacrifice of self, Lady Annabel replied, 'But there is hope, Venetia;
+when your life is in question, there is nothing that should not be
+done.'
+
+'Nothing can be done,' said Venetia, who, of course, could not dream
+of what was passing in her mother's mind.
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat and walked to the window; apparently
+her eye watched only the passing gondolas, but indeed she saw them
+not; she saw only her child stretched perhaps on the couch of death.
+
+'We quitted, perhaps, Rovigo too hastily,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+choking voice, and with a face of scarlet. It was a terrible struggle,
+but the words were uttered.
+
+'No, mother,' said Venetia, to Lady Annabel's inexpressible surprise,
+'we did right to go.'
+
+'Even my child, even Venetia, with all her devotion to him, feels the
+absolute necessity of my conduct,' thought Lady Annabel. Her pride
+returned; she felt the impossibility of making an overture to Herbert;
+she looked upon their daughter as the last victim of his fatal career.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+How beautiful is night in Venice! Then music and the moon reign
+supreme; the glittering sky reflected in the waters, and every gondola
+gliding with sweet sounds! Around on every side are palaces and
+temples, rising from the waves which they shadow with their solemn
+forms, their costly fronts rich with the spoils of kingdoms, and
+softened with the magic of the midnight beam. The whole city too is
+poured forth for festival. The people lounge on the quays and cluster
+on the bridges; the light barks skim along in crowds, just touching
+the surface of the water, while their bright prows of polished iron
+gleam in the moonshine, and glitter in the rippling wave. Not a sound
+that is not graceful: the tinkle of guitars, the sighs of serenaders,
+and the responsive chorus of gondoliers. Now and then a laugh,
+light, joyous, and yet musical, bursts forth from some illuminated
+coffee-house, before which a buffo disports, a tumbler stands on his
+head, or a juggler mystifies; and all for a sequin!
+
+The Place of St. Marc, at the period of our story, still presented the
+most brilliant spectacle of the kind in Europe. Not a spot was more
+distinguished for elegance, luxury, and enjoyment. It was indeed the
+inner shrine of the temple of pleasure, and very strange and amusing
+would be the annals of its picturesque arcades. We must not, however,
+step behind their blue awnings, but content ourselves with the
+exterior scene; and certainly the Place of St. Marc, with the
+variegated splendour of its Christian mosque, the ornate architecture
+of its buildings, its diversified population, a tribute from every
+shore of the midland sea, and where the noble Venetian, in his robe
+of crimson silk, and long white peruque, might be jostled by the
+Sclavonian with his target, and the Albanian in his kilt, while the
+Turk, sitting cross-legged on his Persian carpet, smoked his long
+chibouque with serene gravity, and the mild Armenian glided by him
+with a low reverence, presented an aspect under a Venetian moon such
+as we shall not easily find again in Christendom, and, in spite of the
+dying glory and the neighbouring vice, was pervaded with an air of
+romance and refinement, compared with which the glittering dissipation
+of Paris, even in its liveliest and most graceful hours, assumes a
+character alike coarse and commonplace.
+
+It is the hour of love and of faro; now is the hour to press your suit
+and to break a bank; to glide from the apartment of rapture into the
+chamber of chance. Thus a noble Venetian contrived to pass the night,
+in alternations of excitement that in general left him sufficiently
+serious for the morrow's council. For more vulgar tastes there was the
+minstrel, the conjuror, and the story-teller, goblets of Cyprus wine,
+flasks of sherbet, and confectionery that dazzled like diamonds. And
+for every one, from the grave senator to the gay gondolier, there was
+an atmosphere in itself a spell, and which, after all, has more to do
+with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune and all the
+arts of government.
+
+Amid this gay and brilliant multitude, one human being stood alone.
+Muffled in his cloak, and leaning against a column in the portico
+of St. Marc, an expression of oppressive care and affliction was
+imprinted on his countenance, and ill accorded with the light and
+festive scene. Had he been crossed in love, or had he lost at
+play? Was it woman or gold to which his anxiety and sorrow were
+attributable, for under one or other of these categories, undoubtedly,
+all the miseries of man may range. Want of love, or want of money,
+lies at the bottom of all our griefs.
+
+The stranger came forward, and leaving the joyous throng, turned down
+the Piazzetta, and approached the quay of the Lagune. A gondolier
+saluted him, and he entered his boat.
+
+'Whither, signor?' said the gondolier.
+
+'To the Grand Canal,' he replied.
+
+Over the moonlit wave the gondola swiftly skimmed! The scene was a
+marvellous contrast to the one which the stranger had just quitted;
+but it brought no serenity to his careworn countenance, though his eye
+for a moment kindled as he looked upon the moon, that was sailing in
+the cloudless heaven with a single star by her side.
+
+They had soon entered the Grand Canal, and the gondolier looked to his
+employer for instructions. 'Row opposite to the Manfrini palace,' said
+the stranger, 'and rest upon your oar.'
+
+The blinds of the great window of the palace were withdrawn.
+Distinctly might be recognised a female figure bending over the
+recumbent form of a girl. An hour passed away and still the gondola
+was motionless, and still the silent stranger gazed on the inmates of
+the palace. A servant now came forward and closed the curtain of the
+chamber. The stranger sighed, and waving his hand to the gondolier,
+bade him return to the Lagune.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+It is curious to recall our feelings at a moment when a great event
+is impending over us, and we are utterly unconscious of its probable
+occurrence. How often does it happen that a subject which almost
+unceasingly engages our mind, is least thought of at the very instant
+that the agitating suspense involved in its consideration is perhaps
+about to be terminated for ever! The very morning after the mysterious
+gondola had rested so long before the Manfrini Palace, Venetia rose
+for the first time since the flight from Rovigo, refreshed by her
+slumbers, and tranquil in her spirit. It was not in her power
+to recall her dreams; but they had left a vague and yet serene
+impression. There seemed a lightness in her heart, that long had been
+unusual with her, and she greeted her mother with a smile, faint
+indeed, yet natural.
+
+Perhaps this beneficial change, slight but still delightful, might be
+attributed to the softness and the splendour of the morn. Before the
+approach of winter, it seemed that the sun was resolved to remind the
+Venetians that they were his children; and that, although his rays
+might be soon clouded for a season, they were not to believe that
+their parent had deserted them. The sea was like glass, a golden haze
+suffused the horizon, and a breeze, not strong enough to disturb the
+waters, was wafted at intervals from the gardens of the Brenta, fitful
+and sweet.
+
+Venetia had yielded to the suggestion of her mother, and had agreed
+for the first time to leave the palace. They stepped into their
+gondola, and were wafted to an island in the Lagune where there was
+a convent, and, what in Venice was more rare and more delightful, a
+garden. Its scanty shrubberies sparkled in the sun; and a cypress
+flanked by a pine-tree offered to the eye unused to trees a novel and
+picturesque group. Beneath its shade they rested, watching on one side
+the distant city, and on the other the still and gleaming waters of
+the Adriatic. While they were thus sitting, renovated by the soft air
+and pleasant spectacle, a holy father, with a beard like a meteor,
+appeared and addressed them.
+
+'Welcome to St. Lazaro!' said the holy father, speaking in English;
+'and may the peace that reigns within its walls fill also your
+breasts!'
+
+'Indeed, holy father,' said Lady Annabel to the Armenian monk, 'I have
+long heard of your virtues and your happy life.'
+
+'You know that Paradise was placed in our country,' said the monk with
+a smile. 'We have all lost Paradise, but the Armenian has lost his
+country too. Nevertheless, with God's blessing, on this islet we have
+found an Eden, pure at least and tranquil.'
+
+'For the pious, Paradise exists everywhere,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'You have been in England, holy father?' said Venetia.
+
+'It has not been my good fortune,' replied the monk.
+
+'Yet you speak our tongue with a facility and accent that surprise
+me.'
+
+'I learnt it in America where I long resided,' rejoined the Armenian.
+
+'This is for your eye, lady,' continued the monk, drawing a letter
+from his bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel felt not a little surprised; but the idea immediately
+occurred to her that it was some conventual memorial appealing to her
+charity. She took the paper from the monk, who immediately moved away;
+but what was the agitation of Lady Annabel when she recognised the
+handwriting of her husband! Her first thought was to save Venetia
+from sharing that agitation. She rose quickly; she commanded herself
+sufficiently to advise her daughter, in a calm tone, to remain seated,
+while for a moment she refreshed herself by a stroll. She had not
+quitted Venetia many paces, when she broke the seal and read these
+lines:
+
+'Tremble not, Annabel, when you recognise this handwriting. It is that
+of one whose only aspiration is to contribute to your happiness; and
+although the fulfilment of that fond desire may be denied him, it
+never shall be said, even by you, that any conduct of his should now
+occasion you annoyance. I am in Venice at the peril of my life, which
+I only mention because the difficulties inseparable from my position
+are the principal cause that you did not receive this communication
+immediately after our strange meeting. I have gazed at night upon your
+palace, and watched the forms of my wife and our child; but one word
+from you, and I quit Venice for ever, and it shall not be my fault if
+you are ever again disturbed by the memory of the miserable Herbert.
+
+'But before I go, I will make this one appeal if not to your justice,
+at least to your mercy. After the fatal separation of a life, we have
+once more met: you have looked upon me not with hatred; my hand has
+once more pressed yours; for a moment I indulged the impossible hope,
+that this weary and exhausted spirit might at length be blessed. With
+agony I allude to the incident that dispelled the rapture of
+this vision. Sufficient for me most solemnly to assure you that
+four-and-twenty hours had not elapsed without that feeble and
+unhallowed tie being severed for ever! It vanished instantaneously
+before the presence of my wife and my child. However you decide, it
+can never again subsist: its utter and eternal dissolution was the
+inevitable homage to your purity.
+
+'Whatever may have been my errors, whatever my crimes, for I will not
+attempt to justify to you a single circumstance of my life, I humble
+myself in the dust before you, and solicit only mercy; yet whatever
+may have been my career, ah! Annabel, in the infinite softness of your
+soul was it not for a moment pardoned? Am I indeed to suffer for that
+last lamentable intrusion? You are a woman, Annabel, with a brain as
+clear as your heart is pure. Judge me with calmness, Annabel; were
+there no circumstances in my situation to extenuate that deplorable
+connection? I will not urge them; I will not even intimate them; but
+surely, Annabel, when I kneel before you full of deep repentance and
+long remorse, if you could pardon the past, it is not that incident,
+however mortifying to you, however disgraceful to myself, that should
+be an impassable barrier to all my hopes!
+
+'Once you loved me; I ask you not to love me now. There is nothing
+about me now that can touch the heart of woman. I am old before my
+time; bent with the blended influence of action and of thought, and of
+physical and moral suffering. The play of my spirit has gone for ever.
+My passions have expired like my hopes. The remaining sands of my life
+are few. Once it was otherwise: you can recall a different picture of
+the Marmion on whom you smiled, and of whom you were the first love. O
+Annabel! grey, feeble, exhausted, penitent, let me stagger over your
+threshold, and die! I ask no more; I will not hope for your affection;
+I will not even count upon your pity; but endure my presence; let your
+roof screen my last days!'
+
+It was read; it was read again, dim as was the sight of Lady Annabel
+with fast-flowing tears. Still holding the letter, but with hands
+fallen, she gazed upon the shining waters before her in a fit of
+abstraction. It was the voice of her child that roused her.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia in a tone of some decision, 'you are troubled,
+and we have only one cause of trouble. That letter is from my father.'
+
+Lady Annabel gave her the letter in silence.
+
+Venetia withdrew almost unconsciously a few paces from her mother. She
+felt this to be the crisis of her life. There never was a moment which
+she believed required more fully the presence of all her energies.
+Before she had addressed Lady Annabel, she had endeavoured to steel
+her mind to great exertion. Yet now that she held the letter, she
+could not command herself sufficiently to read it. Her breath deserted
+her; her hand lost its power; she could not even open the lines on
+which perhaps her life depended. Suddenly, with a rapid effort, she
+glanced at the contents. The blood returned to her check; her eye
+became bright with excitement; she gasped for breath; she advanced to
+Lady Annabel. 'Ah! mother,' she exclaimed, 'you will grant all that it
+desires!'
+
+Still gazing on the wave that laved the shore of the island with an
+almost inperceptible ripple, Lady Annabel continued silent.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia, 'my beloved mother, you hesitate.' She
+approached Lady Annabel, and with one arm round her neck, she grasped
+with the other her mother's hand. 'I implore you, by all that
+affection which you lavish on me, yield to this supplication. O
+mother! dearest mother! it has been my hope that my life has been at
+least a life of duty; I have laboured to yield to all your wishes.
+I have struggled to make their fulfilment the law of my being. Yes!
+mother, your memory will assure you, that when the sweetest emotions
+of my heart were the stake, you appealed to me to sacrifice them, and
+they were dedicated to your will. Have I ever murmured? I have sought
+only to repay your love by obedience. Speak to me, dearest mother! I
+implore you speak to me! Tell me, can you ever repent relenting in
+this instance? O mother! you will not hesitate; you will not indeed;
+you will bring joy and content to our long-harassed hearth! Tell me
+so; I beseech you tell me so! I wish, oh! how I wish, that you would
+comply from the mere impulse of your own heart! But, grant that it
+is a sacrifice; grant that it may be unwise; that it may be vain; I
+supplicate you to make it! I, your child, who never deserted you, who
+will never desert you, pledging my faith to you in the face of heaven;
+for my sake, I supplicate you to make it. You do not hesitate; you
+cannot hesitate; mother, you cannot hesitate. Ah! you would not if you
+knew all; if you knew all the misery of my life, you would be glad;
+you would be cheerful; you would look upon this as an interposition of
+Providence in favour of your Venetia; you would, indeed, dear mother!'
+
+'What evil fortune guided our steps to Italy?' said Lady Annabel in a
+solemn tone, and as if in soliloquy.
+
+'No, no, mother; not evil fortune; fortune the best and brightest,'
+exclaimed her daughter, 'We came here to be happy, and happiness we
+have at length gained. It is in our grasp; I feel it. It was not
+fortune, dear mother! it was fate, it was Providence, it was God. You
+have been faithful to Him, and He has brought back to you my father,
+chastened and repentant. God has turned his heart to all your virtues.
+Will you desert him? No, no, mother, you will not, you cannot; for his
+sake, for your own sake, and for your child's, you will not!'
+
+'For twenty years I have acted from an imperious sense of duty,' said
+Lady Annabel, 'and for your sake, Venetia, as much as for my own.
+Shall the feelings of a moment--'
+
+'O mother! dearest mother! say not these words. With me, at least,
+it has not been the feeling of a moment. It haunted my infancy; it
+harassed me while a girl; it has brought me in the prime of womanhood
+to the brink of the grave. And with you, mother, has it been the
+feeling of a moment? Ah! you ever loved him, when his name was never
+breathed by those lips. You loved him when you deemed he had forgotten
+you; when you pictured him to yourself in all the pride of health and
+genius, wanton and daring; and now, now that he comes to you penitent,
+perhaps dying, more like a remorseful spirit than a breathing being,
+and humbles himself before you, and appeals only to your mercy, ah! my
+mother, you cannot reject, you could not reject him, even if you were
+alone, even if you had no child!'
+
+'My child! my child! all my hopes were in my child,' murmured Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Is she not by your side?' said Venetia.
+
+'You know not what you ask; you know not what you counsel,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'It has been the prayer and effort of my life that you should
+never know. There is a bitterness in the reconciliation which follows
+long estrangement, that yields a pang more acute even than the first
+disunion. Shall I be called upon to mourn over the wasted happiness of
+twenty years? Why did he not hate us?'
+
+'The pang is already felt, mother,' said Venetia. 'Reject my father,
+but you cannot resume the feelings of a month back. You have seen
+him; you have listened to him. He is no longer the character which
+justified your conduct, and upheld you under the trial. His image has
+entered your soul; your heart is softened. Bid him quit Venice without
+seeing you, and you will remain the most miserable of women.'
+
+'On his head, then, be the final desolation,' said Lady Annabel; 'it
+is but a part of the lot that he has yielded me.'
+
+'I am silent,' said Venetia, relaxing her grasp. 'I see that your
+child is not permitted to enter into your considerations.' She turned
+away.
+
+'Venetia!' said her mother.
+
+'Mother!' said Venetia, looking back, but not returning.
+
+'Return one moment to me.'
+
+Venetia slowly rejoined her. Lady Annabel spoke in a kind and gentle,
+though serious tone.
+
+'Venetia,' she said, 'what I am about to speak is not the impulse of
+the moment, but has been long revolved in my mind; do not, therefore,
+misapprehend it. I express without passion what I believe to be truth.
+I am persuaded that the presence of your father is necessary to
+your happiness; nay, more, to your life. I recognise the mysterious
+influence which he has ever exercised over your existence. I feel it
+impossible for me any longer to struggle against a power to which I
+bow. Be happy, then, my daughter, and live. Fly to your father, and be
+to him as matchless a child as you have been to me.' She uttered these
+last words in a choking voice.
+
+'Is this, indeed, the dictate of your calm judgment, mother?' said
+Venetia.
+
+'I call God to witness, it has of late been more than once on my lips.
+The other night, when I spoke of Rovigo, I was about to express this.'
+
+'Then, mother!' said Venetia, 'I find that I have been misunderstood.
+At least I thought my feelings towards yourself had been appreciated.
+They have not; and I can truly say, my life does not afford a single
+circumstance to which I can look back with content. Well will it
+indeed be for me to die?'
+
+'The dream of my life,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of infinite
+distress, 'was that she, at least, should never know unhappiness. It
+was indeed a dream.'
+
+There was now a silence of several minutes. Lady Annabel remained in
+exactly the same position, Venetia standing at a little distance from
+her, looking resigned and sorrowful.
+
+'Venetia,' at length said Lady Annabel, 'why are you silent?'
+
+'Mother, I have no more to say. I pretend not to act in this life; it
+is my duty to follow you.'
+
+'And your inclination?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have ceased to have a wish upon any subject,' said Venetia.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, with a great effort, 'I am miserable.'
+
+This unprecedented confession of suffering from the strong mind of her
+mother, melted Venetia to the heart. She advanced, and threw her arms
+round her mother's neck, and buried her weeping face in Lady Annabel's
+bosom.
+
+'Speak to me, my daughter,' said Lady Annabel; 'counsel me, for my
+mind trembles; anxiety has weakened it. Nay, I beseech you, speak.
+Speak, speak, Venetia. What shall I do?'
+
+'Mother, I will never say anything again but that I love you!'
+
+'I see the holy father in the distance. Let us walk to him, my child,
+and meet him.'
+
+Accordingly Lady Annabel, now leaning on Venetia, approached the monk.
+About five minutes elapsed before they reached him, during which not a
+word was spoken.
+
+'Holy father,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of firmness that surprised
+her daughter and made her tremble with anticipation, 'you know the
+writer of this letter?'
+
+'He is my friend of many years, lady,' replied the Armenian; 'I knew
+him in America. I owe to him my life, and more than my life. There
+breathes not his equal among men.'
+
+A tear started to the eye of Lady Annabel; she recalled the terms in
+which the household at Arquâ had spoken of Herbert. 'He is in Venice?'
+she inquired.
+
+'He is within these walls,' the monk replied.
+
+Venetia, scarcely able to stand, felt her mother start. After a
+momentary pause, Lady Annabel said, 'Can I speak with him, and alone?'
+
+Nothing but the most nervous apprehension of throwing any obstacle in
+the way of the interview could have sustained Venetia. Quite pale,
+with her disengaged hand clenched, not a word escaped her lips. She
+hung upon the answer of the monk.
+
+'You can see him, and alone,' said the monk. 'He is now in the
+sacristy. Follow me.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'remain in this garden. I will accompany
+this holy man. Stop! embrace me before I go, and,' she added, in a
+whisper, 'pray for me.'
+
+It needed not the admonition of her mother to induce Venetia to seek
+refuge in prayer, in this agony of her life. But for its salutary and
+stilling influence, it seemed to her that she must have forfeited all
+control over her mind. The suspense was too terrible for human aid to
+support her. Seated by the sea-side, she covered her face with her
+hands, and invoked the Supreme assistance. More than an hour passed
+away. Venetia looked up. Two beautiful birds, of strange form and
+spotless plumage, that perhaps had wandered from the Aegean, were
+hovering over her head, bright and glancing in the sun. She accepted
+their appearance as a good omen. At this moment she heard a voice,
+and, looking up, observed a monk in the distance, beckoning to her.
+She rose, and with a trembling step approached him. He retired, still
+motioning to her to follow him. She entered, by a low portal, a dark
+cloister; it led to an ante-chapel, through which, as she passed, her
+ear caught the solemn chorus of the brethren. Her step faltered; her
+sight was clouded; she was as one walking in a dream. The monk opened
+a door, and, retiring, waved his hand, as for her to enter. There was
+a spacious and lofty chamber, scantily furnished, some huge chests,
+and many sacred garments. At the extreme distance her mother was
+reclined on a bench, her head supported by a large crimson cushion,
+and her father kneeling by her mother's side. With a soundless step,
+and not venturing even to breathe, Venetia approached them, and, she
+knew not how, found herself embraced by both her parents.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+In a green valley of the Apennines, close to the sea-coast between
+Genoa and Spezzia, is a marine villa, that once belonged to the
+Malaspina family, in olden time the friends and patrons of Dante. It
+is rather a fantastic pile, painted in fresco, but spacious, in good
+repair, and convenient. Although little more than a mile from Spezzia,
+a glimpse of the blue sea can only be caught from one particular spot,
+so completely is the land locked with hills, covered with groves of
+chestnut and olive orchards. From the heights, however, you enjoy
+magnificent prospects of the most picturesque portion of the Italian
+coast; a lofty, undulating, and wooded shore, with an infinite variety
+of bays and jutting promontories; while the eye, wandering from
+Leghorn on one side towards Genoa on the other, traces an almost
+uninterrupted line of hamlets and casinos, gardens and orchards,
+terraces of vines, and groves of olive. Beyond them, the broad and
+blue expanse of the midland ocean, glittering in the meridian blaze,
+or about to receive perhaps in its glowing waters the red orb of
+sunset.
+
+It was the month of May, in Italy, at least, the merry month of May,
+and Marmion Herbert came forth from the villa Malaspina, and throwing
+himself on the turf, was soon lost in the volume of Plato which he
+bore with him. He did not move until in the course of an hour he was
+roused by the arrival of servants, who brought seats and a table,
+when, looking up, he observed Lady Annabel and Venetia in the portico
+of the villa. He rose to greet them, and gave his arm to his wife.
+
+'Spring in the Apennines, my Annabel,' said Herbert, 'is a happy
+combination. I am more in love each day with this residence. The
+situation is so sheltered, the air so soft and pure, the spot so
+tranquil, and the season so delicious, that it realises all my romance
+of retirement. As for you, I never saw you look so well; and as for
+Venetia, I can scarcely believe this rosy nymph could have been our
+pale-eyed girl, who cost us such anxiety!'
+
+'Our breakfast is not ready. Let us walk to our sea view,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Give me your book to carry, Marmion.'
+
+'There let the philosopher repose,' said Herbert, throwing the volume
+on the turf. 'Plato dreamed of what I enjoy.'
+
+'And of what did Plato dream, papa?' said Venetia.
+
+'He dreamed of love, child.'
+
+Venetia took her father's disengaged arm.
+
+They had now arrived at their sea view, a glimpse of the Mediterranean
+between two tall crags.
+
+'A sail in the offing,' said Herbert. 'How that solitary sail tells,
+Annabel!'
+
+'I feel the sea breeze, mother. Does not it remind you of Weymouth?'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! Marmion,' said Lady Annabel, 'I would that you could see Masham
+once more. He is the only friend that I regret.'
+
+'He prospers, Annabel; let that be our consolation: I have at least
+not injured him.'
+
+They turned their steps; their breakfast was now prepared. The sun had
+risen above the hill beneath whose shade they rested, and the opposite
+side of the valley sparkled in light. It was a cheerful scene. 'I have
+a passion for living in the air,' said Herbert; 'I always envied the
+shepherds in Don Quixote. One of my youthful dreams was living among
+mountains of rosemary, and drinking only goat's milk. After breakfast
+I will read you Don Quixote's description of the golden age. I have
+often read it until the tears came into my eyes.'
+
+'We must fancy ourselves in Spain,' said Lady Annabel; 'it is not
+difficult in this wild green valley; and if we have not rosemary, we
+have scents as sweet. Nature is our garden here, Venetia; and I do not
+envy even the statues and cypresses of our villa of the lake.'
+
+'We must make a pilgrimage some day to the Maggiore, Annabel,' said
+Herbert. 'It is hallowed ground to me now.'
+
+Their meal was finished, the servants brought their work, and books,
+and drawings; and Herbert, resuming his natural couch, re-opened his
+Plato, but Venetia ran into the villa, and returned with a volume.
+'You must read us the golden age, papa,' she said, as she offered him,
+with a smile, his favourite Don Quixote.
+
+'You must fancy the Don looking earnestly upon a handful of acorns,'
+said Herbert, opening the book, 'while he exclaims, "O happy age!
+which our first parents called the age of gold! not because gold, so
+much adored in this iron age, was then easily purchased, but because
+those two fatal words, _meum_ and _tuum_, were distinctions unknown to
+the people of those fortunate times; for all things were in common in
+that holy age: men, for their sustenance, needed only to lift their
+hands, and take it from the sturdy oak, whose spreading arms liberally
+invited them to gather the wholesome savoury fruit; while the clear
+springs, and silver rivulets, with luxuriant plenty, afforded them
+their pure refreshing water. In hollow trees, and in the clefts
+of rocks, the labouring and industrious bees erected their little
+commonwealths, that men might reap with pleasure and with ease the
+sweet and fertile harvest of their toils, The tough and strenuous
+cork-trees did, of themselves, and without other art than their native
+liberality, dismiss and impart their broad light bark, which served to
+cover those lowly huts, propped up with rough-hewn stakes, that were
+first built as a shelter against the inclemencies of the air. All then
+was union, all peace, all love and friendship in the world. As yet no
+rude ploughshare presumed with violence to pry into the pious bowels
+of our mother earth, for she without compulsion kindly yielded from
+every part of her fruitful and spacious bosom, whatever might at once
+satisfy, sustain, and indulge her frugal children. Then was the time
+when innocent, beautiful young sheperdesses went tripping over the
+hills and vales; their lovely hair sometimes plaited, sometimes loose
+and flowing, clad in no other vestment but what the modesty of nature
+might require. The Tyrian dye, the rich glossy hue of silk, martyred
+and dissembled into every colour, which are now esteemed so fine and
+magnificent, were unknown to the innocent simplicity of that age; yet,
+bedecked with more becoming leaves and flowers, they outshone the
+proudest of the vaindressing ladies of our times, arrayed in the most
+magnificent garbs and all the most sumptuous adornings which idleness
+and luxury have taught succeeding pride. Lovers then expressed the
+passion of their souls in the unaffected language of the heart, with
+the native plainness and sincerity in which they were conceived, and
+divested of all that artificial contexture which enervates what it
+labours to enforce. Imposture, deceit, and malice had not yet crept
+in, and imposed themselves unbribed upon mankind in the disguise of
+truth: justice, unbiassed either by favour or interest, which now so
+fatally pervert it, was equally and impartially dispensed; nor was the
+judge's fancy law, for then there were neither judges nor causes to be
+judged. The modest maid might then walk alone. But, in this degenerate
+age, fraud and a legion of ills infecting the world, no virtue can be
+safe, no honour be secure; while wanton desires, diffused into the
+hearts of men, corrupt the strictest watches and the closest retreats,
+which, though as intricate, and unknown as the labyrinth of Crete,
+are no security for chastity. Thus, that primitive innocence being
+vanished, the oppression daily prevailing, there was a necessity
+to oppose the torrent of violence; for which reason the order of
+knighthood errant was instituted, to defend the honour of virgins,
+protect widows, relieve orphans, and assist all that are distressed.
+Now I myself am one of this order, honest friends and though all
+people are obliged by the law of nature to be kind to persons of my
+character, yet since you, without knowing anything of this obligation,
+have so generously entertained me, I ought to pay you my utmost
+acknowledgment, and accordingly return you my most hearty thanks."
+
+'There,' said Herbert, as he closed the book. 'In my opinion, Don
+Quixote was the best man that ever lived.'
+
+'But he did not ever live,' said Lady Annabel, smiling.
+
+'He lives to us,' said Herbert. 'He is the same to this age as if he
+had absolutely wandered over the plains of Castile and watched in the
+Sierra Morena. We cannot, indeed, find his tomb; but he has left us
+his great example. In his hero, Cervantes has given us the picture
+of a great and benevolent philosopher, and in his Sancho, a complete
+personification of the world, selfish and cunning, and yet overawed
+by the genius that he cannot comprehend: alive to all the material
+interests of existence, yet sighing after the ideal; securing his four
+young foals of the she-ass, yet indulging in dreams of empire.'
+
+'But what do you think of the assault on the windmills, Marmion?' said
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'In the outset of his adventures, as in the outset of our lives, he
+was misled by his enthusiasm,' replied Herbert, 'without which, after
+all, we can do nothing. But the result is, Don Quixote was a redresser
+of wrongs, and therefore the world esteemed him mad.'
+
+In this vein, now conversing, now occupied with their pursuits, and
+occasionally listening to some passage which Herbert called to their
+attention, and which ever served as the occasion for some critical
+remarks, always as striking from their originality as they were happy
+in their expression, the freshness of the morning disappeared; the sun
+now crowned the valley with his meridian beam, and they re-entered the
+villa. The ladies returned to their cool saloon, and Herbert to his
+study.
+
+It was there he amused himself by composing the following lines:
+
+  SPRING IN THE APENNINES.
+
+  I.
+
+  Spring in the Apennine now holds her court
+  Within an amphitheatre of hills,
+  Clothed with the blooming chestnut; musical
+  With murmuring pines, waving their light green cones
+  Like youthful Bacchants; while the dewy grass,
+  The myrtle and the mountain violet,
+  Blend their rich odours with the fragrant trees,
+  And sweeten the soft air. Above us spreads
+  The purple sky, bright with the unseen sun
+  The hills yet screen, although the golden beam
+  Touches the topmost boughs, and tints with light
+  The grey and sparkling crags. The breath of morn
+  Still lingers in the valley; but the bee
+  With restless passion hovers on the wing,
+  Waiting the opening flower, of whose embrace
+  The sun shall be the signal. Poised in air,
+  The winged minstrel of the liquid dawn,
+  The lark, pours forth his lyric, and responds
+  To the fresh chorus of the sylvan doves,
+  The stir of branches and the fall of streams,
+  The harmonies of nature!
+
+  II
+
+    Gentle Spring!
+  Once more, oh, yes! once more I feel thy breath,
+  And charm of renovation! To the sky
+  Thou bringest light, and to the glowing earth
+  A garb of grace: but sweeter than the sky
+  That hath no cloud, and sweeter than the earth
+  With all its pageantry, the peerless boon
+  Thou bearest to me, a temper like thine own;
+  A springlike spirit, beautiful and glad!
+  Long years, long years of suffering, and of thought
+  Deeper than woe, had dimmed the eager eye
+  Once quick to catch thy brightness, and the ear
+  That lingered on thy music, the harsh world
+  Had jarred. The freshness of my life was gone,
+  And hope no more an omen in thy bloom
+  Found of a fertile future! There are minds,
+  Like lands, but with one season, and that drear
+  Mine was eternal winter!
+
+  III.
+
+    A dark dream
+  Of hearts estranged, and of an Eden lost
+  Entranced my being; one absorbing thought
+  Which, if not torture, was a dull despair
+  That agony were light to. But while sad
+  Within the desert of my life I roamed,
+  And no sweet springs of love gushed for to greet
+  My wearied heart, behold two spirits came
+  Floating in light, seraphic ministers,
+  The semblance of whose splendour on me fell
+  As on some dusky stream the matin ray,
+  Touching the gloomy waters with its life.
+  And both were fond, and one was merciful!
+  And to my home long forfeited they bore
+  My vagrant spirit, and the gentle hearth.
+  I reckless fled, received me with its shade
+  And pleasant refuge. And our softened hearts
+  Were like the twilight, when our very bliss
+  Calls tears to soothe our rapture; as the stars
+  Steal forth, then shining smiles their trembling ray
+  Mixed with our tenderness; and love was there
+  In all his manifold forms; the sweet embrace,
+  And thrilling pressure of the gentle hand,
+  And silence speaking with the melting eye!
+
+  IV.
+
+  And now again I feel thy breath, O spring!
+  And now the seal hath fallen from my gaze,
+  And thy wild music in my ready ear
+  Finds a quick echo! The discordant world
+  Mars not thy melodies; thy blossoms now
+  Are emblems of my heart; and through my veins
+  The flow of youthful feeling, long pent up,
+  Glides like thy sunny streams! In this fair scene,
+  On forms still fairer I my blessing pour;
+  On her the beautiful, the wise, the good,
+  Who learnt the sweetest lesson to forgive;
+  And on the bright-eyed daughter of our love,
+  Who soothed a mother, and a father saved!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Between the reconciliation of Lady Annabel Herbert with her husband,
+at the Armenian convent at Venice, and the spring morning in the
+Apennines, which we have just described, half a year had intervened.
+The political position of Marmion Herbert rendered it impossible for
+him to remain in any city where there was a representative of his
+Britannic Majesty. Indeed, it was scarcely safe for him to be known
+out of America. He had quitted that country shortly after the struggle
+was over, chiefly from considerations for his health. His energies had
+been fast failing him; and a retired life and change of climate had
+been recommended by his physicians. His own feelings induced him to
+visit Italy, where he had once intended to pass his life, and where he
+now repaired to await death. Assuming a feigned name, and living in
+strict seclusion, it is probable that his presence would never have
+been discovered; or, if detected, would not have been noticed. Once
+more united with his wife, her personal influence at the court of St.
+James', and her powerful connections, might secure him from annoyance;
+and Venetia had even indulged in a vague hope of returning to England.
+But Herbert could only have found himself again in his native country
+as a prisoner on parole. It would have been quite impossible for him
+to mix in the civil business of his native land, or enjoy any of the
+rights of citizenship. If a mild sovereign in his mercy had indeed
+accorded him a pardon, it must have been accompanied with rigorous and
+mortifying conditions; and his presence, in all probability, would
+have been confined to his country residence and its immediate
+neighbourhood. The pride of Lady Annabel herself recoiled from this
+sufferance; and although Herbert, keenly conscious of the sacrifice
+which a permanent estrangement from England entailed upon his wife and
+child, would have submitted to any restrictions, however humiliating,
+provided they were not inconsistent with his honour, it must be
+confessed that, when he spoke of this painful subject to his wife,
+it was with no slight self-congratulation that he had found her
+resolution to remain abroad under any circumstances was fixed with her
+habitual decision. She communicated both to the Bishop of ---- and to
+her brother the unexpected change that had occurred in her condition,
+and she had reason to believe that a representation of what had
+happened would be made to the Royal family. Perhaps both the head of
+her house and her reverend friend anticipated that time might remove
+the barrier that presented itself to Herbert's immediate return to
+England: they confined their answers, however, to congratulations on
+the reconciliation, to their confidence in the satisfaction it would
+occasion her, and to the expression of their faithful friendship; and
+neither alluded to a result which both, if only for her sake, desired.
+
+The Herberts had quitted Venice a very few days after the meeting on
+the island of St. Lazaro; had travelled by slow journeys, crossing the
+Apennines, to Genoa; and only remained in that city until they engaged
+their present residence. It combined all the advantages which they
+desired: seclusion, beauty, comfort, and the mild atmosphere that
+Venetia had seemed to require. It was not, however, the genial air
+that had recalled the rose to Venetia's cheek and the sunny smile to
+her bright eye, or had inspired again that graceful form with all its
+pristine elasticity. It was a heart content; a spirit at length at
+peace. The contemplation of the happiness of those most dear to her
+that she hourly witnessed, and the blissful consciousness that her
+exertions had mainly contributed to, if not completely occasioned,
+all this felicity, were remedies of far more efficacy than all the
+consultations and prescriptions of her physicians. The conduct of her
+father repaid her for all her sufferings, and realised all her
+dreams of domestic tenderness and delight. Tender, grateful, and
+affectionate, Herbert hovered round her mother like a delicate spirit
+who had been released by some kind mortal from a tedious and revolting
+thraldom, and who believed he could never sufficiently testify his
+devotion. There was so much respect blended with his fondness, that
+the spirit of her mother was utterly subdued by his irresistible
+demeanour. All her sadness and reserve, her distrust and her fear, had
+vanished; and rising confidence mingling with the love she had ever
+borne to him, she taught herself even to seek his opinion, and be
+guided by his advice. She could not refrain, indeed, from occasionally
+feeling, in this full enjoyment of his love, that she might have
+originally acted with too much precipitation; and that, had she only
+bent for a moment to the necessity of conciliation, and condescended
+to the excusable artifices of affection, their misery might have been
+prevented. Once when they were alone, her softened heart would have
+confessed to Herbert this painful conviction, but he was too happy
+and too generous to permit her for a moment to indulge in such a
+remorseful retrospect. All the error, he insisted, was his own; and he
+had been fool enough to have wantonly forfeited a happiness which time
+and experience had now taught him to appreciate.
+
+'We married too young, Marmion,' said his wife.
+
+'It shall be that then, love,' replied Herbert; 'but for all that I
+have suffered. I would not have avoided my fate on the condition of
+losing the exquisite present!'
+
+It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark, that Herbert avoided with
+the most scrupulous vigilance the slightest allusion to any of those
+peculiar opinions for which he was, unhappily, too celebrated. Musing
+over the singular revolutions which had already occurred in his habits
+and his feelings towards herself, Lady Annabel, indeed, did not
+despair that his once self-sufficient soul might ultimately bow
+to that blessed faith which to herself had ever proved so great a
+support, and so exquisite a solace. It was, indeed, the inexpressible
+hope that lingered at the bottom of her heart; and sometimes she even
+indulged in the delightful fancy that his mild and penitent spirit
+had, by the gracious mercy of Providence, been already touched by the
+bright sunbeam of conviction. At all events, his subdued and chastened
+temperament was no unworthy preparation for still greater blessings.
+It was this hallowed anticipation which consoled, and alone consoled,
+Lady Annabel for her own estrangement from the communion of her
+national church. Of all the sacrifices which her devotion to Herbert
+entailed upon her, this was the one which she felt most constantly
+and most severely. Not a day elapsed but the chapel at Cherbury rose
+before her; and when she remembered that neither herself nor her
+daughter might again kneel round the altar of their God, she almost
+trembled at the step which she had taken, and almost esteemed it
+a sacrifice of heavenly to earthly duty, which no consideration,
+perhaps, warranted. This apprehension, indeed, was the cloud in
+her life, and one which Venetia, who felt all its validity, found
+difficulty in combating.
+
+Otherwise, when Venetia beheld her parents, she felt ethereal,
+and seemed to move in air; for her life, in spite of its apparent
+tranquillity, was to her all excitement. She never looked upon her
+father, or heard his voice, without a thrill. His society was as
+delightful as his heart was tender. It seemed to her that she could
+listen to him for ever. Every word he spoke was different from
+the language of other men; there was not a subject on which his
+richly-cultivated mind could not pour forth instantaneously a flood of
+fine fancies and deep intelligence. He seemed to have read every book
+in every language, and to have mused over every line he had read. She
+could not conceive how one, the tone of whose mind was so original
+that it suggested on every topic some conclusion that struck instantly
+by its racy novelty, could be so saturated with the learning and the
+views of other men. Although they lived in unbroken solitude, and were
+almost always together, not a day passed that she did not find herself
+musing over some thought or expression of her father, and which broke
+from his mind without effort, and as if by chance. Literature to
+Herbert was now only a source of amusement and engaging occupation.
+All thought of fame had long fled his soul. He cared not for being
+disturbed; and he would throw down his Plato for Don Quixote, or close
+his Aeschylus and take up a volume of Madame de Sévigné without a
+murmur, if reminded by anything that occurred of a passage which might
+contribute to the amusement and instruction of his wife and daughter.
+Indeed, his only study now was to contribute to their happiness. For
+him they had given up their country and society, and he sought, by his
+vigilant attention and his various accomplishments, to render their
+hours as light and pleasant as, under such circumstances, was
+possible. His muse, too, was only dedicated to the celebration of any
+topic which their life or themselves suggested. He loved to lie under
+the trees, and pour forth sonnets to Lady Annabel; and encouraged
+Venetia, by the readiness and interest with which he invariably
+complied with her intimations, to throw out every fancy which occurred
+to her for his verse. A life passed without the intrusion of a single
+evil passion, without a single expression that was not soft, and
+graceful, and mild, and adorned with all the resources of a most
+accomplished and creative spirit, required not the distractions
+of society. It would have shrunk from it, from all its artificial
+excitement and vapid reaction. The days of the Herberts flowed on in
+one bright, continuous stream of love, and literature, and gentle
+pleasures. Beneath them was the green earth, above them the blue sky.
+Their spirits were as clear, and their hearts as soft as the clime.
+
+The hour of twilight was approaching, and the family were preparing
+for their daily walk. Their simple repast was finished, and Venetia
+held the verses which her father had written in the morning, and which
+he had presented to her.
+
+'Let us descend to Spezzia,' said Herbert to Lady Annabel; 'I love an
+ocean sunset.'
+
+Accordingly they proceeded through their valley to the craggy path
+which led down to the bay. After passing through a small ravine, the
+magnificent prospect opened before them. The sun was yet an hour above
+the horizon, and the sea was like a lake of molten gold; the colour
+of the sky nearest to the sun, of a pale green, with two or three
+burnished streaks of vapour, quite still, and so thin you could almost
+catch the sky through them, fixed, as it were, in this gorgeous frame.
+It was now a dead calm, but the sail that had been hovering the whole
+morning in the offing had made the harbour in time, and had just
+cast anchor near some coasting craft and fishing-boats, all that now
+remained where Napoleon had projected forming one of the arsenals of
+the world.
+
+Tracing their way down a mild declivity, covered with spreading
+vineyards, and quite fragrant with the blossom of the vine, the
+Herberts proceeded through a wood of olives, and emerged on a terrace
+raised directly above the shore, leading to Spezzia, and studded here
+and there with rugged groups of aloes.
+
+'I have often observed here,' said Venetia, 'about a mile out at sea;
+there, now, where I point; the water rise. It is now a calm, and yet
+it is more troubled, I think, than usual. Tell me the cause, dear
+father, for I have often wished to know.'
+
+'It passes my experience,' said Herbert; 'but here is an ancient
+fisherman; let us inquire of him.'
+
+He was an old man, leaning against a rock, and smoking his pipe in
+contemplative silence; his face bronzed with the sun and the roughness
+of many seasons, and his grey hairs not hidden by his long blue cap.
+Herbert saluted him, and, pointing to the phenomenon, requested an
+explanation of it.
+
+''Tis a fountain of fresh water, signor, that rises in our gulf,' said
+the old fisherman, 'to the height of twenty feet.'
+
+'And is it constant?' inquired Herbert.
+
+''Tis the same in sunshine and in storm, in summer and in winter, in
+calm or in breeze,' said the old fisherman.
+
+'And has it always been so?'
+
+'It came before my time.'
+
+'A philosophic answer,' said Herbert, 'and deserves a paul. Mine was a
+crude question. Adio, good friend.'
+
+'I should like to drink of that fountain of fresh water, Annabel,'
+said Herbert. 'There seems to me something wondrous fanciful in it.
+Some day we will row there. It shall be a calm like this.'
+
+'We want a fountain in our valley,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'We do,' said Herbert; 'and I think we must make one; we must inquire
+at Genoa. I am curious in fountains. Our fountain should, I think, be
+classical; simple, compact, with a choice inscription, the altar of a
+Naiad.'
+
+'And mamma shall make the design, and you shall write the
+inscription,' said Venetia.
+
+'And you shall be the nymph, child,' said Herbert.
+
+They were now within a bowshot of the harbour, and a jutting cliff of
+marble, more graceful from a contiguous bed of myrtles, invited them
+to rest, and watch the approaching sunset.
+
+'Say what they like,' said Herbert, 'there is a spell in the shores
+of the Mediterranean Sea which no others can rival. Never was such a
+union of natural loveliness and magical associations! On these shores
+have risen all that interests us in the past: Egypt and Palestine,
+Greece, Rome, and Carthage, Moorish Spain, and feodal Italy. These
+shores have yielded us our religion, our arts, our literature, and our
+laws. If all that we have gained from the shores of the Mediterranean
+was erased from the memory of man, we should be savages. Will the
+Atlantic ever be so memorable? Its civilisation will be more rapid,
+but will it be as refined? and, far more important, will it be as
+permanent? Will it not lack the racy vigour and the subtle spirit of
+aboriginal genius? Will not a colonial character cling to its society,
+feeble, inanimate, evanescent? What America is deficient in is
+creative intellect. It has no nationality. Its intelligence has been
+imported, like its manufactured goods. Its inhabitants are a people,
+but are they a nation? I wish that the empire of the Incas and the
+kingdom of Montezuma had not been sacrificed. I wish that the republic
+of the Puritans had blended with the tribes of the wilderness.'
+
+The red sun was now hovering over the horizon; it quivered for an
+instant, and then sank. Immediately the high and undulating coast was
+covered with a crimson flush; the cliffs, the groves, the bays and
+jutting promontories, each straggling sail and tall white tower,
+suffused with a rosy light. Gradually that rosy tint became a bright
+violet, and then faded into purple. But the glory of the sunset long
+lingered in the glowing west, streaming with every colour of the Iris,
+while a solitary star glittered with silver light amid the shifting
+splendour.
+
+'Hesperus rises from the sunset like the fountain of fresh water from
+the sea,' said Herbert. 'The sky and the ocean have two natures, like
+ourselves,'
+
+At this moment the boat of the vessel, which had anchored about an
+hour back, put to shore.
+
+'That seems an English brig,' said Herbert. 'I cannot exactly make out
+its trim; it scarcely seems a merchant vessel.'
+
+The projection of the shore hid the boat from their sight as it
+landed. The Herberts rose, and proceeded towards the harbour. There
+were some rude steps cut in the rock which led from the immediate
+shore to the terrace. As they approached these, two gentlemen
+in sailors' jackets mounted suddenly. Lady Annabel and Venetia
+simultaneously started as they recognised Lord Cadurcis and his
+cousin. They were so close that neither party had time to prepare
+themselves. Venetia found her hand in that of Plantagenet, while Lady
+Annabel saluted George. Infinite were their mutual inquiries and
+congratulations, but it so happened that, with one exception, no name
+was mentioned. It was quite evident, however, to Herbert, that these
+were very familiar acquaintances of his family; for, in the surprise
+of the moment, Lord Cadurcis had saluted his daughter by her Christian
+name. There was no slight emotion, too, displayed on all sides.
+Indeed, independently of the agitation which so unexpected a
+rencounter was calculated to produce, the presence of Herbert, after
+the first moments of recognition, not a little excited the curiosity
+of the young men, and in some degree occasioned the embarrassment
+of all. Who was this stranger, on whom Venetia and her mother were
+leaning with such fondness? He was scarcely too old to be the admirer
+of Venetia, and if there were a greater disparity of years between
+them than is usual, his distinguished appearance might well reconcile
+the lady to her lot, or even justify her choice. Had, then, Cadurcis
+again met Venetia only to find her the bride or the betrothed of
+another? a mortifying situation, even an intolerable one, if his
+feelings remained unchanged; and if the eventful year that had elapsed
+since they parted had not replaced her image in his susceptible mind
+by another more cherished, and, perhaps, less obdurate. Again, to Lady
+Annabel the moment was one of great awkwardness, for the introduction
+of her husband to those with whom she was recently so intimate, and
+who were then aware that the name of that husband was never even
+mentioned in her presence, recalled the painful past with a disturbing
+vividness. Venetia, indeed, did not share these feelings fully,
+but she thought it ungracious to anticipate her mother in the
+announcement.
+
+The Herberts turned with Lord Cadurcis and his cousin; they were about
+to retrace their steps on the terrace, when Lady Annabel, taking
+advantage of the momentary silence, and summoning all her energy, with
+a pale cheek and a voice that slightly faltered, said, 'Lord Cadurcis,
+allow me to present you to Mr. Herbert, my husband,' she added with
+emphasis.
+
+'Good God!' exclaimed Cadurcis, starting; and then, outstretching his
+hand, he contrived to add, 'have I, indeed, the pleasure of seeing one
+I have so long admired?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Herbert, scarcely less surprised. 'Is it
+Lord Cadurcis? This is a welcome meeting.'
+
+Everyone present felt overwhelmed with confusion or astonishment; Lady
+Annabel sought refuge in presenting Captain Cadurcis to her husband.
+This ceremony, though little noticed even by those more immediately
+interested in it, nevertheless served, in some degree, as a diversion.
+Herbert, who was only astonished, was the first who rallied. Perhaps
+Lord Cadurcis was the only man in existence whom Herbert wished to
+know. He had read his works with deep interest; at least, those
+portions which foreign journals had afforded him. He was deeply
+impressed with his fame and genius; but what perplexed him at this
+moment, even more than his unexpected introduction to him, was the
+singular, the very extraordinary circumstance, that the name of their
+most celebrated countryman should never have escaped the lips either
+of his wife or his daughter, although they appeared, and Venetia
+especially, to be on terms with him of even domestic intimacy.
+
+'You arrived here to day, Lord Cadurcis?' said Herbert. 'From whence?'
+
+'Immediately from Naples, where we last touched,' replied his
+lordship; 'but I have been residing at Athens.'
+
+'I envy you,' said Herbert.
+
+'It would be a fit residence for you,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'You were,
+however, in some degree, my companion, for a volume of your poems was
+one of the few books I had with me. I parted with all the rest, but I
+retained that. It is in my cabin, and full of my scribblement. If you
+would condescend to accept it, I would offer it to you.'
+
+Mr. Herbert and Lord Cadurcis maintained the conversation along the
+terrace. Venetia, by whose side her old companion walked, was quite
+silent. Once her eyes met those of Cadurcis; his expression of mingled
+archness and astonishment was irresistible. His cousin and Lady
+Annabel carried on a more suppressed conversation, but on ordinary
+topics. When they had reached the olive-grove Herbert said, 'Here lies
+our way homeward, my lord. If you and your cousin will accompany us,
+it will delight Lady Annabel and myself.'
+
+'Nothing, I am sure, will give George and myself greater pleasure,' he
+replied. 'We had, indeed, no purpose when you met us but to enjoy our
+escape from imprisonment, little dreaming we should meet our kindest
+and oldest friends,' he added.
+
+'Kindest and oldest friends!' thought Herbert to himself. 'Well, this
+is strange indeed.'
+
+'It is but a slight distance,' said Lady Annabel, who thought it
+necessary to enforce the invitation. 'We live in the valley, of which
+yonder hill forms a part.'
+
+'And there we have passed our winter and our spring,' added Venetia,
+'almost as delightfully as you could have done at Athens.'
+
+'Well,' thought Cadurcis to himself, 'I have seen many of the world's
+marvels, but this day is a miracle.'
+
+When they had proceeded through the olive-wood, and mounted the
+acclivity, they arrived at a path which permitted the ascent of only
+one person at a time. Cadurcis was last, and followed Venetia. Unable
+any longer to endure the suspense, he was rather irritated that she
+kept so close to her father; he himself loitered a few paces behind,
+and, breaking off a branch of laurel, he tossed it at her. She looked
+round and smiled; he beckoned to her to fall back. 'Tell me, Venetia,'
+he said, 'what does all this mean?'
+
+'It means that we are at last all very happy,' she replied. 'Do you
+not see my father?'
+
+'Yes; and I am very glad to see him; but this company is the very last
+in which I expected to have that pleasure.'
+
+'It is too long a story to tell now; you must imagine it.'
+
+'But are you glad to see me?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'I don't think you care for me the least.'
+
+'Silly Lord Cadurcis!' she said, smiling.
+
+'If you call me Lord Cadurcis, I shall immediately go back to the
+brig, and set sail this night for Athens.'
+
+'Well then, silly Plantagenet!'
+
+He laughed, and they ran on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, I am not surprised that you should have passed your time
+delightfully here,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady Annabel, when they had
+entered the villa; 'for I never beheld so delightful a retreat. It is
+even more exquisite than your villa on the lake, of which George gave
+me so glowing a description. I was almost tempted to hasten to you.
+Would you have smiled on me!' he added, rather archly, and in a
+coaxing tone.
+
+'I am more gratified that we have met here,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And thus,' added Cadurcis.
+
+'You have been a great traveller since we last met?' said Lady
+Annabel, a little embarrassed.
+
+'My days of restlessness are over,' said Cadurcis. 'I desire nothing
+more dearly than to settle down in the bosom of these green hills as
+you have done.'
+
+'This life suits Mr. Herbert,' said Lady Annabel. 'He is fond of
+seclusion, and you know I am accustomed to it.'
+
+'Ah! yes,' said Cadurcis, mournfully. 'When I was in Greece, I used
+often to wish that none of us had ever left dear Cherbury; but I do
+not now.'
+
+'We must forget Cherbury,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I cannot: I cannot forget her who cherished my melancholy childhood.
+Dear Lady Annabel,' he added in a voice of emotion, and offering her
+his hand, 'forget all my follies, and remember that I was your child,
+once as dutiful as you were affectionate.'
+
+Who could resist this appeal? Lady Annabel, not without agitation,
+yielded him her hand, which he pressed to his lips. 'Now I am again
+happy,' said Cadurcis; 'now we are all happy. Sweetest of friends, you
+have removed in a moment the bitterness of years.'
+
+Although lights were in the saloon, the windows opening on the portico
+were not closed. The evening air was soft and balmy, and though the
+moon had not risen, the distant hills were clear in the starlight.
+Venetia was standing in the portico conversing with George Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose you are too much of a Turk to drink our coffee, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. Cadurcis turned and joined him, together with
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'Nay,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a joyous tone, 'Lady Annabel will answer
+for me that I always find everything perfect under her roof.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis and Venetia now re-entered the villa; they clustered
+round the table, and seated themselves.
+
+'Why, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, 'George met me in Sicily and quite
+frightened me about you. Is it the air of the Apennines that has
+worked these marvels? for, really, you appear to me exactly the same
+as when we learnt the French vocabulary together ten years ago.'
+
+'"The French vocabulary together, ten years ago!"' thought Herbert;
+'not a mere London acquaintance, then. This is very strange.'
+
+'Why, indeed, Plantagenet,' replied Venetia, 'I was very unwell when
+George visited us; but I really have quite forgotten that I ever was
+an invalid, and I never mean to be again.'
+
+'"Plantagenet!"' soliloquised Herbert. 'And this is the great poet
+of whom I have heard so much! My daughter is tolerably familiar with
+him.'
+
+'I have brought you all sorts of buffooneries from Stamboul,'
+continued Cadurcis; 'sweetmeats, and slippers, and shawls, and daggers
+worn only by sultanas, and with which, if necessary, they can keep
+"the harem's lord" in order. I meant to have sent them with George to
+England, for really I did not anticipate our meeting here.'
+
+'"Sweetmeats and slippers,"' said Herbert to himself, '"shawls and
+daggers!" What next?'
+
+'And has George been with you all the time?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Oh! we quarrelled now and then, of course. He found Athens dull, and
+would stay at Constantinople, chained by the charms of a fair Perote,
+to whom he wanted me to write sonnets in his name. I would not,
+because I thought it immoral. But, on the whole, we got on very well;
+a sort of Pylades and Orestes, I assure you; we never absolutely
+fought.'
+
+'Come, come,' said George, 'Cadurcis is always ashamed of being
+amiable. We were together much more than I ever intended or
+anticipated. You know mine was a sporting tour; and therefore, of
+course, we were sometimes separated. But he was exceedingly popular
+with all parties, especially the Turks, whom he rewarded for their
+courtesy by writing odes to the Greeks to stir them up to revolt.'
+
+'Well, they never read them,' said Cadurcis. 'All we, poor fellows,
+can do,' he added, turning to Herbert, 'is to wake the Hellenistic
+raptures of May Fair; and that they call fame; as much like fame as a
+toadstool is like a truffle.'
+
+'Nevertheless, I hope the muse has not slumbered,' said Herbert; 'for
+you have had the happiest inspiration in the climes in which you have
+resided; not only are they essentially poetic, but they offer a virgin
+vein.'
+
+'I have written a little,' replied Cadurcis; 'I will give it you, if
+you like, some day to turn over. Yours is the only opinion that I
+really care for. I have no great idea of the poetry; but I am very
+strong in my costume. I feel very confident about that. I fancy I know
+how to hit off a pasha, or touch in a Greek pirate now. As for all the
+things I wrote in England, I really am ashamed of them. I got up my
+orientalism from books, and sultans and sultanas at masquerades,' he
+added, archly. 'I remember I made my heroines always wear turbans;
+only conceive my horror when I found that a Turkish woman would as
+soon think of putting my hat on as a turban, and that it was an
+article of dress entirely confined to a Bond Street milliner.'
+
+The evening passed in interesting and diverting conversation; of
+course, principally contributed by the two travellers, who had seen so
+much. Inspirited by his interview with Lady Annabel, and her gracious
+reception of his overtures, Lord Cadurcis was in one of those frolic
+humours, which we have before noticed was not unnatural to him. He had
+considerable powers of mimicry, and the talent that had pictured to
+Venetia in old days, with such liveliness, the habits of the old maids
+of Morpeth, was now engaged on more considerable topics; an interview
+with a pasha, a peep into a harem, a visit to a pirate's isle, the
+slave-market, the bazaar, the barracks of the janissaries, all touched
+with irresistible vitality, and coloured with the rich phrases of
+unrivalled force of expression. The laughter was loud and continual;
+even Lady Annabel joined zealously in the glee. As for Herbert, he
+thought Cadurcis by far the most hearty and amusing person he had ever
+known, and could not refrain from contrasting him with the picture
+which his works and the report of the world had occasionally enabled
+him to sketch to his mind's eye; the noble, young, and impassioned
+bard, pouring forth the eloquent tide of his morbid feelings to an
+idolising world, from whose applause he nevertheless turned with an
+almost misanthropic melancholy.
+
+It was now much past the noon of night, and the hour of separation,
+long postponed, was inevitable. Often had Cadurcis risen to depart,
+and often, without regaining his seat, had he been tempted by his
+friends, and especially Venetia, into fresh narratives. At last he
+said, 'Now we must go. Lady Annabel looks good night. I remember the
+look,' he said, laughing, 'when we used to beg for a quarter of an
+hour more. O Venetia! do not you remember that Christmas when dear
+old Masham read Julius Caesar, and we were to sit up until it was
+finished. When he got to the last act I hid his spectacles. I never
+confessed it until this moment. Will you pardon me, Lady Annabel?' and
+he pressed his hands together in a mockery of supplication.
+
+'Will you come and breakfast with us to-morrow?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'With delight,' he answered. 'I am used, you know, to walks before
+breakfast. George, I do not think George can do it, though. George
+likes his comforts; he is a regular John Bull. He was always calling
+for tea when we were in Turkey!'
+
+At this moment Mistress Pauncefort entered the room, ostensibly on
+some little affair of her mistress, but really to reconnoitre.
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort; my old friend, Mistress Pauncefort, how do
+you do?' exclaimed his lordship.
+
+'Quite well, my lord, please your lordship; and very glad to see your
+lordship again, and looking so well too.'
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort, you always flattered me!'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord, your lordship, no,' said Mistress Pauncefort, with
+a simper.
+
+'But you, Pauncefort,' said Cadurcis, 'why there must be some magic in
+the air here. I have been complimenting your lady and Miss Venetia;
+but really, you, I should almost have thought it was some younger
+sister.'
+
+'Oh! my lord, you have such a way,' said Mistress Pauncefort,
+retreating with a slow step that still lingered for a remark.
+
+'Pauncefort, is that an Italian cap?' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you know,
+Pauncefort, you were always famous for your caps.'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort disappeared in a fluster of delight.
+
+And now they had indeed departed. There was a pause of complete
+silence after they had disappeared, the slight and not painful
+reaction after the mirthful excitement of the last few hours. At
+length Herbert, dropping, as was his evening custom, a few drops of
+orange-flower into a tumbler of water, said, 'Annabel, my love, I am
+rather surprised that neither you nor Venetia should have mentioned to
+me that you knew, and knew so intimately, a man like Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+Lady Annabel appeared a little confused; she looked even at Venetia,
+but Venetia's eyes were on the ground. At length she said, 'In truth,
+Marmion, since we met we have thought only of you.'
+
+'Cadurcis Abbey, papa, is close to Cherbury,' said Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' said Herbert, with a faint blush. 'I have never seen it,
+and now I shall never see it. No matter, my country is your mother and
+yourself. Some find a home in their country, I find a country in my
+home. Well,' he added, in a gayer tone, 'it has gratified me much to
+meet Lord Cadurcis. We were happy before, but now we are even gay.
+I like to see you smile, Annabel, and hear Venetia laugh. I feel,
+myself, quite an unusual hilarity. Cadurcis! It is very strange how
+often I have mused over that name. A year ago it was one of my few
+wishes to know him; my wishes, then, dear Annabel, were not very
+ambitious. They did not mount so high as you have since permitted
+them. And now I do know him, and under what circumstances! Is not life
+strange? But is it not happy? I feel it so. Good night, sweet wife;
+my darling daughter, a happy, happy night!' He embraced them ere
+they retired; and opening a volume composed his mind after the novel
+excitement of the evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis left the brig early in the morning alone, and strolled
+towards the villa. He met Herbert half-way to Spezzia, who turned back
+with him towards home. They sat down on a crag opposite the sea; there
+was a light breeze, the fishing boats wore out, and the view was as
+animated as the fresh air was cheering.
+
+'There they go,' said Cadurcis, smiling, 'catching John Dory, as you
+and I try to catch John Bull. Now if these people could understand
+what two great men were watching them, how they would stare! But they
+don't care a sprat for us, not they! They are not part of the world
+the three or four thousand civilised savages for whom we sweat our
+brains, and whose fetid breath perfumed with musk is fame. Pah!'
+
+Herbert smiled. 'I have not cared much myself for this same world.'
+
+'Why, no; you have done something, and shown your contempt for them.
+No one can deny that. I will some day, if I have an opportunity. I owe
+it them; I think I can show them a trick or two still.[A] I have got a
+Damascus blade in store for their thick hides. I will turn their flank
+yet.'
+
+[Footnote A: I think I know a trick or two would turn Your flanks.
+_Don Juan_.]
+
+'And gain a victory where conquest brings no glory. You are worth
+brighter laurels, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Now is not it the most wonderful thing in the world that you and I
+have met?' said Cadurcis. 'Now I look upon ourselves as something
+like, eh! Fellows with some pith in them. By Jove, if we only joined
+together, how we could lay it on! Crack, crack, crack; I think I see
+them wincing under the thong, the pompous poltroons! If you only knew
+how they behaved to me! By Jove, sir, they hooted me going to the
+House of Lords, and nearly pulled me off my horse. The ruffians would
+have massacred me if they could; and then they all ran away from a
+drummer-boy and a couple of grenadiers, who were going the rounds to
+change guard. Was not that good? Fine, eh? A brutish mob in a fit of
+morality about to immolate a gentleman, and then scampering off from a
+sentry. I call that human nature!'
+
+'As long as they leave us alone, and do not burn us alive, I am
+content,' said Herbert. 'I am callous to what they say.'
+
+'So am I,' said Cadurcis. 'I made out a list the other day of all
+the persons and things I have been compared to. It begins well, with
+Alcibiades, but it ends with the Swiss giantess or the Polish dwarf, I
+forget which. Here is your book. You see it has been well thumbed. In
+fact, to tell the truth, it was my cribbing book, and I always kept
+it by me when I was writing at Athens, like a gradus, a _gradus ad
+Parnassum_, you know. But although I crib, I am candid, and you see I
+fairly own it to you.'
+
+'You are welcome to all I have ever written,' said Herbert. 'Mine were
+but crude dreams. I wished to see man noble and happy; but if he will
+persist in being vile and miserable, I must even be content. I can
+struggle for him no more.'
+
+'Well, you opened my mind,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe you everything;
+but I quite agree with you that nothing is worth an effort. As for
+philosophy and freedom, and all that, they tell devilish well in a
+stanza; but men have always been fools and slaves, and fools and
+slaves they always will be.'
+
+'Nay,' said Herbert, 'I will not believe that. I will not give up
+a jot of my conviction of a great and glorious future for human
+destinies; but its consummation will not be so rapid as I once
+thought, and in the meantime I die.'
+
+'Ah, death!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that is a botherer. What can you
+make of death? There are those poor fishermen now; there will be a
+white squall some day, and they will go down with those lateen sails
+of theirs, and be food for the very prey they were going to catch; and
+if you continue living here, you may eat one of your neighbours in
+the shape of a shoal of red mullets, when it is the season. The great
+secret, we cannot penetrate that with all our philosophy, my dear
+Herbert. "All that we know is, nothing can be known." Barren, barren,
+barren! And yet what a grand world it is! Look at this bay, these blue
+waters, the mountains, and these chestnuts, devilish fine! The fact
+is, truth is veiled, but, like the Shekinah over the tabernacle, the
+veil is of dazzling light!'
+
+'Life is the great wonder,' said Herbert, 'into which all that is
+strange and startling resolves itself. The mist of familiarity
+obscures from us the miracle of our being. Mankind are constantly
+starting at events which they consider extraordinary. But a
+philosopher acknowledges only one miracle, and that is life. Political
+revolutions, changes of empire, wrecks of dynasties and the opinions
+that support them, these are the marvels of the vulgar, but these are
+only transient modifications of life. The origin of existence is,
+therefore, the first object which a true philosopher proposes to
+himself. Unable to discover it, he accepts certain results from
+his unbiassed observation of its obvious nature, and on them he
+establishes certain principles to be our guides in all social
+relations, whether they take the shape of laws or customs.
+Nevertheless, until the principle of life be discovered, all theories
+and all systems of conduct founded on theory must be considered
+provisional.'
+
+'And do you believe that there is a chance of its being discovered?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'I cannot, from any reason in my own intelligence, find why it should
+not,' said Herbert.
+
+'You conceive it possible that a man may attain earthly immortality?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'Undoubtedly.'
+
+'By Jove,' said Cadurcis, 'if I only knew how, I would purchase an
+immense annuity directly.'
+
+'When I said undoubtedly,' said Herbert, smiling, 'I meant only to
+express that I know no invincible reason to the contrary. I see
+nothing inconsistent with the existence of a Supreme Creator in the
+annihilation of death. It appears to me an achievement worthy of his
+omnipotence. I believe in the possibility, but I believe in nothing
+more. I anticipate the final result, but not by individual means. It
+will, of course, be produced by some vast and silent and continuous
+operation of nature, gradually effecting some profound and
+comprehensive alteration in her order, a change of climate, for
+instance, the great enemy of life, so that the inhabitants of the
+earth may attain a patriarchal age. This renovated breed may in turn
+produce a still more vigorous offspring, and so we may ascend the
+scale, from the threescore and ten of the Psalmist to the immortality
+of which we speak. Indeed I, for my own part, believe the operation
+has already commenced, although thousands of centuries may elapse
+before it is consummated; the threescore and ten of the Psalmist is
+already obsolete; the whole world is talking of the general change of
+its seasons and its atmosphere. If the origin of America were such as
+many profound philosophers suppose, viz., a sudden emersion of a new
+continent from the waves, it is impossible to doubt that such an event
+must have had a very great influence on the climate of the world.
+Besides, why should we be surprised that the nature of man should
+change? Does not everything change? Is not change the law of nature?
+My skin changes every year, my hair never belongs to me a month, the
+nail on my hand is only a passing possession. I doubt whether a man at
+fifty is the same material being that he is at five-and-twenty.'
+
+'I wonder,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'if a creditor brought an action
+against you at fifty for goods delivered at five-and-twenty, one
+could set up the want of identity as a plea in bar. It would be a
+consolation to an elderly gentleman.'
+
+'I am afraid mankind are too hostile to philosophy,' said Herbert,
+smiling, 'to permit so desirable a consummation.'
+
+'Should you consider a long life a blessing?' said Cadurcis. 'Would
+you like, for instance, to live to the age of Methusalem?'
+
+'Those whom the gods love die young,' said Herbert. 'For the last
+twenty years I have wished to die, and I have sought death. But my
+feelings, I confess, on that head are at present very much modified.'
+
+'Youth, glittering youth!' said Cadurcis in a musing tone; 'I remember
+when the prospect of losing my youth frightened me out of my wits;
+I dreamt of nothing but grey hairs, a paunch, and the gout or the
+gravel. But I fancy every period of life has its pleasures, and as we
+advance in life the exercise of power and the possession of wealth
+must be great consolations to the majority; we bully our children and
+hoard our cash.'
+
+'Two most noble occupations!' said Herbert; 'but I think in this world
+there is just as good a chance of being bullied by our children first,
+and paying their debts afterwards.'
+
+'Faith! you are right,' said Cadurcis, laughing, 'and lucky is he who
+has neither creditors nor offspring, and who owes neither money nor
+affection, after all the most difficult to pay of the two.'
+
+'It cannot be commanded, certainly,' said Herbert 'There is no usury
+for love.'
+
+'And yet it is very expensive, too, sometimes, said Cadurcis,
+laughing. 'For my part, sympathy is a puzzler.'
+
+'You should read Cabanis,' said Herbert, 'if indeed, you have not.
+I think I may find it here; I will lend it you. It has, from its
+subject, many errors, but it is very suggestive.'
+
+'Now, that is kind, for I have not a book here, and, after all, there
+is nothing like reading. I wish I had read more, but it is not too
+late. I envy you your learning, besides so many other things. However,
+I hope we shall not part in a hurry; we have met at last,' he said,
+extending his hand, 'and we were always friends.'
+
+Herbert shook his hand very warmly. 'I can assure you, Lord Cadurcis,
+you have not a more sincere admirer of your genius. I am happy in your
+society. For myself, I now aspire to be nothing better than an idler
+in life, turning over a page, and sometimes noting down a fancy. You
+have, it appears, known my family long and intimately, and you were,
+doubtless, surprised at finding me with them. I have returned to
+my hearth, and I am content. Once I sacrificed my happiness to my
+philosophy, and now I have sacrificed my philosophy to my happiness.'
+
+'Dear friend!' said Cadurcis, putting his arm affectionately in
+Herbert's as they walked along, 'for, indeed, you must allow me to
+style you so; all the happiness and all the sorrow of my life alike
+flow from your roof!'
+
+In the meantime Lady Annabel and Venetia came forth from the villa to
+their morning meal in their amphitheatre of hills. Marmion was not
+there to greet them as usual.
+
+'Was not Plantagenet amusing last night?' said Venetia; 'and are not
+you happy, dear mother, to see him once more?'
+
+'Indeed I am now always happy,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And George was telling me last night, in this portico, of all their
+life. He is more attached to Plantagenet than ever. He says it is
+impossible for any one to have behaved with greater kindness, or to
+have led, in every sense, a more calm and rational life. When he was
+alone at Athens, he did nothing but write. George says that all his
+former works are nothing to what he has written now.'
+
+'He is very engaging,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I think he will be such a delightful companion for papa. I am sure
+papa must like him. I hope he will stay some time; for, after all,
+poor dear papa, he must require a little amusement besides our
+society. Instead of being with his books, he might be walking and
+talking with Plantagenet. I think, dearest mother, we shall be happier
+than ever!'
+
+At this moment Herbert, with Cadurcis leaning on his arm, and
+apparently speaking with great earnestness, appeared in the distance.
+'There they are,' said Venetia; 'I knew they would be friends. Come,
+dearest mother, let us meet them.'
+
+'You see, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'it is just as I said:
+Mr. George is not here; he is having tea and toast on board the brig.'
+
+'I do not believe it,' said Venetia, smiling.
+
+They seated themselves at the breakfast-table.
+
+'You should have seen our Apennine breakfasts in the autumn, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. 'Every fruit of nature seemed crowded before
+us. It was indeed a meal for a poet or a painter like Paul Veronese;
+our grapes, our figs, our peaches, our mountain strawberries, they
+made a glowing picture. For my part, I have an original prejudice
+against animal food which I have never quite overcome, and I believe
+it is only to please Lady Annabel that I have relapsed into the heresy
+of cutlets.'
+
+'Do you think I have grown fatter, Lady Annabel?' said Lord Cadurcis,
+starting up; 'I brought myself down at Athens to bread and olives, but
+I have been committing terrible excesses lately, but only fish.'
+
+'Ah! here is George!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+And Captain Cadurcis appeared, followed by a couple of sailors,
+bearing a huge case.
+
+'George,' said Venetia, 'I have been defending you against
+Plantagenet; he said you would not come.'
+
+'Never mind, George, it was only behind your back,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and, under those legitimate circumstances, why even our
+best friends cannot expect us to spare them.'
+
+'I have brought Venetia her toys,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'and she was
+right to defend me, as I have been working for her.'
+
+The top of the case was knocked off, and all the Turkish buffooneries,
+as Cadurcis called them, made their appearance: slippers, and shawls,
+and bottles of perfumes, and little hand mirrors, beautifully
+embroidered; and fanciful daggers, and rosaries, and a thousand other
+articles, of which they had plundered the bazaars of Constantinople.
+
+'And here is a Turkish volume of poetry, beautifully illuminated; and
+that is for you,' said Cadurcis giving it to Herbert. 'Perhaps it is a
+translation of one of our works. Who knows? We can always say it is.'
+
+'This is the second present you have made me this morning. Here is a
+volume of my works,' said Herbert, producing the book that Cadurcis
+had before given him. 'I never expected that anything I wrote would be
+so honoured. This, too, is the work of which I am the least ashamed
+for my wife admired it. There, Annabel, even though Lord Cadurcis is
+here, I will present it to you; 'tis an old friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accepted the book very graciously, and, in spite of all
+the temptations of her toys, Venetia could not refrain from peeping
+over her mother's shoulder at its contents. 'Mother,' she whispered,
+in a voice inaudible save to Lady Annabel, 'I may read this!'
+
+Lady Annabel gave it her.
+
+'And now we must send for Pauncefort, I think,' said Lady Annabel, 'to
+collect and take care of our treasures.'
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, when that gentlewoman appeared, 'I
+have brought you a shawl, but I could not bring you a turban, because
+the Turkish ladies do not wear turbans; but if I had thought we should
+have met so soon, I would have had one made on purpose for you.'
+
+'La! my lord, you always are so polite!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When the breakfast was over, they wandered about the valley, which
+Cadurcis could not sufficiently admire. Insensibly he drew Venetia
+from the rest of the party, on the pretence of showing her a view at
+some little distance. They walked along by the side of a rivulet,
+which glided through the hills, until they were nearly a mile from the
+villa, though still in sight.
+
+'Venetia,' he at length said, turning the conversation to a more
+interesting topic, 'your father and myself have disburthened our minds
+to each, other this morning; I think we know each other now as well as
+if we were as old acquaintances as myself and his daughter.'
+
+'Ah! I knew that you and papa must agree,' said Venetia; 'I was saying
+so this morning to my mother.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Cadurcis, with a laughing eye, 'all this is very
+strange, is it not?'
+
+'Very strange, indeed, Plantagenet; I should not be surprised if it
+appeared to you as yet even incredible.'
+
+'It is miraculous,' said Cadurcis, 'but not incredible; an angel
+interfered, and worked the miracle. I know all.'
+
+Venetia looked at him with a faint flush upon her cheek; she gathered
+a flower and plucked it to pieces.
+
+'What a singular destiny ours has been, Venetia! 'said Cadurcis. 'Do
+you know, I can sit for an hour together and muse over it.'
+
+'Can you, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I have such an extraordinary memory; I do not think I ever forgot
+anything. We have had some remarkable conversations in our time,
+eh, Venetia? Do you remember my visit to Cherbury before I went to
+Cambridge, and the last time I saw you before I left England? And now
+it all ends in this! What do you think of it, Venetia?'
+
+'Think of what, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Why, of this reconciliation?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, what can I think of it but what I have expressed,
+that it is a wonderful event, but the happiest in my life.'
+
+'You are quite happy now?'
+
+'Quite.'
+
+'I see you do not care for me the least.'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are perverse. Are you not here?'
+
+'Did you ever think of me when I was away?'
+
+'You know very well, Plantagenet, that it is impossible for me to
+cease to be interested in you. Could I refrain from thinking of such a
+friend?'
+
+'Friend! poh! I am not your friend; and, as for that, you never once
+mentioned my name to your father, Miss Venetia.'
+
+'You might easily conceive that there were reasons for such silence,'
+said Venetia. 'It could not arise on my part from forgetfulness or
+indifference; for, even if my feelings were changed towards you, you
+are not a person that one would, or even could, avoid speaking of,
+especially to papa, who must have felt such interest in you! I am
+sure, even if I had not known you, there were a thousand occasions
+which would have called your name to my lips, had they been
+uncontrolled by other considerations.'
+
+'Come, Venetia, I am not going to submit to compliments from you,'
+said Lord Cadurcis; 'no blarney. I wish you only to think of me as
+you did ten years ago. I will not have our hearts polluted by the
+vulgarity of fame. I want you to feel for me as you did when we were
+children. I will not be an object of interest, and admiration, and
+fiddlestick to you; I will not submit to it.'
+
+'Well, you shall not,' said Venetia, laughing. 'I will not admire you
+the least; I will only think of you as a good little boy.'
+
+'You do not love me any longer, I see that,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Yes I do, Plantagenet.'
+
+'You do not love me so much as you did the night before I went to
+Eton, and we sat over the fire? Ah! how often I have thought of that
+night when I was at Athens!' he added in a tone of emotion.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' said Venetia, 'do not be silly. I am in the
+highest spirits in the world; I am quite gay with happiness, and all
+because you have returned. Do not spoil my pleasure.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I see how it is; you have forgotten me, or worse than
+forgotten me.'
+
+'Well, I am sure I do not know what to say to satisfy you,' said
+Venetia. 'I think you very unreasonable, and very ungrateful too, for
+I have always been your friend, Plantagenet, and I am sure you know
+it. You sent me a message before you went abroad.'
+
+'Darling!' said Lord Cadurcis, seizing her hand, 'I am not ungrateful,
+I am not unreasonable. I adore you. You were very kind then, when all
+the world was against me. You shall see how I will pay them off, the
+dogs! and worse than dogs, their betters far; dogs are faithful. Do
+you remember poor old Marmion? How we were mystified, Venetia! Little
+did we think then who was Marmion's godfather.'
+
+Venetia smiled; but she said, 'I do not like this bitterness of yours,
+Plantagenet. You have no cause to complain of the world, and you
+magnify a petty squabble with a contemptible coterie into a quarrel
+with a nation. It is not a wise humour, and, if you indulge it, it
+will not be a happy one.'
+
+'I will do exactly what you wish on every subject, said Cadurcis, 'if
+you will do exactly what I wish on one.'
+
+'Well!' said Venetia.
+
+'Once you told me,' said Cadurcis, 'that you would not marry me
+without the consent of your father; then, most unfairly, you added to
+your conditions the consent of your mother. Now both your parents are
+very opportunely at hand; let us fall down upon our knees, and beg
+their blessing.'
+
+'O! my dear Plantagenet, I think it will be much better for me never
+to marry. We are both happy now; let us remain so. You can live here,
+and I can be your sister. Will not that do?'
+
+'No, Venetia, it will not.'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet!' said Venetia with a faltering voice, 'if you knew
+how much I had suffered, dear Plantagenet!'
+
+'I know it; I know all,' said Cadurcis, taking her arm and placing it
+tenderly in his. 'Now listen to me, sweet girl; I loved you when a
+child, when I was unknown to the world, and unknown to myself; I loved
+you as a youth not utterly inexperienced in the world, and when my
+rising passions had taught me to speculate on the character of women;
+I loved you as a man, Venetia, with that world at my feet, that
+world which I scorn, but which I will command; I have been constant,
+Venetia; your heart assures you, of that. You are the only being in
+existence who exercises over me any influence; and the influence you
+possess is irresistible and eternal. It springs from some deep and
+mysterious sympathy of blood which I cannot penetrate. It can neither
+be increased nor diminished by time. It is entirely independent of
+its action. I pretend not to love you more at this moment than when
+I first saw you, when you entered the terrace-room at Cherbury and
+touched my cheek. From that moment I was yours. I declare to you, most
+solemnly I declare to you, that I know not what love is except to you.
+The world has called me a libertine; the truth is, no other woman can
+command my spirit for an hour. I see through them at a glance. I read
+all their weakness, frivolity, vanity, affectation, as if they were
+touched by the revealing rod of Asmodeus. You were born to be my
+bride. Unite yourself with me, control my destiny, and my course shall
+be like the sun of yesterday; but reject me, reject me, and I devote
+all my energies to the infernal gods; I will pour my lava over the
+earth until all that remains of my fatal and exhausted nature is a
+black and barren cone surrounded by bitter desolation.'
+
+'Plantagenet; be calm!'
+
+'I am perfectly calm, Venetia. You talk to me of your sufferings.
+What has occasioned them? A struggle against nature. Nature has now
+triumphed, and you are happy. What necessity was there for all this
+misery that has fallen on your house? Why is your father an exile? Do
+not you think that if your mother had chosen to exert her influence
+she might have prevented the most fatal part of his career?
+Undoubtedly despair impelled his actions as much as philosophy, though
+I give him credit for a pure and lofty spirit, to no man more. But not
+a murmur against your mother from me. She received my overtures of
+reconciliation last night with more than cordiality. She is your
+mother, Venetia, and she once was mine. Indeed, I love her; indeed,
+you would find that I would study her happiness. For after all, sweet,
+is there another woman in existence better qualified to fill the
+position of my mother-in-law? I could not behave unkindly to her; I
+could not treat her with neglect or harshness; not merely for the
+sake of her many admirable qualities, but from other considerations,
+Venetia, considerations we never can forget. By heavens! I love your
+mother; I do, indeed, Venetia! I remember so many things; her last
+words to me when I went to Eton. If she would only behave kindly
+to me, you would see what a son-in-law I should make. You would be
+jealous, that you should, Venetia. I can bear anything from you,
+Venetia, but, with others, I cannot forget who I am. It makes me
+bitter to be treated as Lady Annabel treated me last year in London:
+but a smile and a kind word and I recall all her maternal love; I do
+indeed, Venetia; last night when she was kind I could have kissed
+her!'
+
+Poor Venetia could not answer, her tears were flowing so plenteously.
+'I have told your father all, sweetest,' said Cadurcis; 'I concealed
+nothing.'
+
+'And what said he?' murmured Venetia.
+
+'It rests with your mother. After all that has passed, he will
+not attempt to control your fate. And he is right. Perhaps his
+interference in my favour might even injure me. But there is no cause
+for despair; all I wanted was to come to an understanding with you; to
+be sure you loved me as you always have done. I will not be impatient.
+I will do everything to soothe and conciliate and gratify Lady
+Annabel; you will see how I will behave! As you say, too, we are happy
+because we are together; and, therefore, it would be unreasonable not
+to be patient. I never can be sufficiently grateful for this meeting.
+I concluded you would be in England, though we were on our way to
+Milan to inquire after you. George has been a great comfort to me in
+all this affair, Venetia; he loves you, Venetia, almost as much as
+I do. I think I should have gone mad during that cursed affair in
+England, had it not been for George. I thought you would hate me; but,
+when George brought me your message, I cared for nothing; and then his
+visit to the lake was so devilish kind! He is a noble fellow and a
+true friend. My sweet, sweet Venetia, dry your eyes. Let us rejoin
+them with a smile. We have not been long away, I will pretend we have
+been violet hunting,' said Cadurcis, stooping down and plucking up a
+handful of flowers. 'Do you remember our violets at home, Venetia?
+Do you know, Venetia, I always fancy every human being is like some
+object in nature; and you always put me in mind of a violet so fresh
+and sweet and delicate!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+'We have been exploring the happy valley,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady
+Annabel, 'and here is our plunder,' and he gave her the violets.
+
+'You were always fond of flowers,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yes, I imbibed the taste from you,' said Cadurcis, gratified by the
+gracious remark.
+
+He seated himself at her feet, examined and admired her work, and
+talked of old times, but with such infinite discretion, that he did
+not arouse a single painful association. Venetia was busied with her
+father's poems, and smiled often at the manuscript notes of Cadurcis.
+Lying, as usual, on the grass, and leaning his head on his left arm,
+Herbert was listening to Captain Cadurcis, who was endeavouring to
+give him a clear idea of the Bosphorus. Thus the morning wore away,
+until the sun drove them into the villa.
+
+'I will show you my library, Lord Cadurcis,' said Herbert.
+
+Cadurcis followed him into a spacious apartment, where he found a
+collection so considerable that he could not suppress his surprise.
+'Italian spoils chiefly,' said Herbert; 'a friend of mine purchased
+an old library at Bologna for me, and it turned out richer than I
+imagined: the rest are old friends that have been with me, many of
+them at least, at college. I brought them back with me from America,
+for then they were my only friends.'
+
+'Can you find Cabanis?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Herbert looked about. It is in this neighbourhood, I imagine,' he
+said. Cadurcis endeavoured to assist him. 'What is this?' he said;
+'Plato!'
+
+'I should like to read Plato at Athens,' said Herbert. 'My ambition
+now does not soar beyond such elegant fortune.'
+
+'We are all under great obligations to Plato,' said Cadurcis. 'I
+remember, when I was in London, I always professed myself his
+disciple, and it is astonishing what results I experienced. Platonic
+love was a great invention.'
+
+Herbert smiled; but, as he saw Cadurcis knew nothing about the
+subject, he made no reply.
+
+'Plato says, or at least I think he says, that life is love,' said
+Cadurcis. 'I have said it myself in a very grand way too; I believe I
+cribbed it from you. But what does he mean? I am sure I meant nothing;
+but I dare say you did.'
+
+'I certainly had some meaning,' said Herbert, stopping in his search,
+and smiling, 'but I do not know whether I expressed it. The principle
+of every motion, that is of all life, is desire or love: at present;
+I am in love with the lost volume of Cabanis, and, if it were not
+for the desire of obtaining it, I should not now be affording any
+testimony of my vitality by looking after it.'
+
+'That is very clear,' said Cadurcis, 'but I was thinking of love in
+the vulgar sense, in the shape of a petticoat. Certainly, when I am in
+love with a woman, I feel love is life; but, when I am out of love,
+which often happens, and generally very soon, I still contrive to
+live.'
+
+'We exist,' said Herbert, 'because we sympathise. If we did not
+sympathise with the air, we should die. But, if we only sympathised
+with the air, we should be in the lowest order of brutes, baser than
+the sloth. Mount from the sloth to the poet. It is sympathy that makes
+you a poet. It is your desire that the airy children of your brain
+should be born anew within another's, that makes you create;
+therefore, a misanthropical poet is a contradiction in terms.'
+
+'But when he writes a lampoon?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'He desires that the majority, who are not lampooned, should share his
+hate,' said Herbert.
+
+'But Swift lampooned the species,' said Cadurcis. 'For my part, I
+think life is hatred.'
+
+'But Swift was not sincere, for he wrote the Drapier's Letters at the
+same time. Besides, the very fact of your abusing mankind proves that
+you do not hate them; it is clear that you are desirous of obtaining
+their good opinion of your wit. You value them, you esteem them, you
+love them. Their approbation causes you to act, and makes you happy.
+As for sexual love,' said Herbert, 'of which you were speaking, its
+quality and duration depend upon the degree of sympathy that subsists
+between the two persons interested. Plato believed, and I believe with
+him, in the existence of a spiritual antitype of the soul, so that
+when we are born, there is something within us which, from the instant
+we live and move, thirsts after its likeness. This propensity develops
+itself with the development of our nature. The gratification of the
+senses soon becomes a very small part of that profound and complicated
+sentiment, which we call love. Love, on the contrary, is an universal
+thirst for a communion, not merely of the senses, but of our whole
+nature, intellectual, imaginative, and sensitive. He who finds his
+antitype, enjoys a love perfect and enduring; time cannot change it,
+distance cannot remove it; the sympathy is complete. He who loves an
+object that approaches his antitype, is proportionately happy, the
+sympathy is feeble or strong, as it may be. If men were properly
+educated, and their faculties fully developed,' continued Herbert,
+'the discovery of the antitype would be easy; and, when the day
+arrives that it is a matter of course, the perfection of civilisation
+will be attained.'
+
+'I believe in Plato,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I think I have found my
+antitype. His theory accounts for what I never could understand.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+In the course of the evening Lady Annabel requested Lord Cadurcis and
+his cousin to take up their quarters at the villa. Independent of the
+delight which such an invitation occasioned him, Cadurcis was doubly
+gratified by its being given by her. It was indeed her unprompted
+solicitation; for neither Herbert nor even Venetia, however much
+they desired the arrangement, was anxious to appear eager for its
+fulfilment. Desirous of pleasing her husband and her daughter; a
+little penitent as to her previous treatment of Cadurcis, now that
+time and strange events had combined to soften her feelings; and won
+by his engaging demeanour towards herself, Lady Annabel had of mere
+impulse resolved upon the act; and she was repaid by the general air
+of gaiety and content which it diffused through the circle.
+
+Few weeks indeed passed ere her ladyship taught herself even to
+contemplate the possibility of an union between her daughter and
+Lord Cadurcis. The change which had occurred in her own feelings and
+position had in her estimation removed very considerable barriers to
+such a result. It would not become her again to urge the peculiarity
+of his temperament as an insuperable objection to the marriage; that
+was out of the question, even if the conscience of Lady Annabel
+herself, now that she was so happy, were perfectly free from any
+participation in the causes which occasioned the original estrangement
+between Herbert and herself. Desirous too, as all mothers are, that
+her daughter should be suitably married, Lady Annabel could not shut
+her eyes to the great improbability of such an event occurring, now
+that Venetia had, as it were, resigned all connection with her native
+country. As to her daughter marrying a foreigner, the very idea was
+intolerable to her; and Venetia appeared therefore to have resumed
+that singular and delicate position which she occupied at Cherbury in
+earlier years, when Lady Annabel had esteemed her connection with Lord
+Cadurcis so fortunate and auspicious. Moreover, while Lord Cadurcis,
+in birth, rank, country, and consideration, offered in every view of
+the ease so gratifying an alliance, he was perhaps the only Englishman
+whose marriage into her family would not deprive her of the society of
+her child. Cadurcis had a great distaste for England, which he seized
+every opportunity to express. He continually declared that he would
+never return there; and his habits of seclusion and study so entirely
+accorded with those of her husband, that Lady Annabel did not doubt
+they would continue to form only one family; a prospect so engaging to
+her, that it would perhaps have alone removed the distrust which she
+had so unfortunately cherished against the admirer of her daughter;
+and although some of his reputed opinions occasioned her doubtless
+considerable anxiety, he was nevertheless very young, and far from
+emancipated from the beneficial influence of his early education. She
+was sanguine that this sheep would yet return to the fold where once
+he had been tended with so much solicitude. When too she called to
+mind the chastened spirit of her husband, and could not refrain from
+feeling that, had she not quitted him, he might at a much earlier
+period have attained a mood so full of promise and to her so cheering,
+she could not resist the persuasion that, under the influence of
+Venetia, Cadurcis might speedily free himself from the dominion of
+that arrogant genius to which, rather than to any serious conviction,
+the result of a studious philosophy, she attributed his indifference
+on the most important of subjects. On the whole, however, it was with
+no common gratification that Lady Annabel observed the strong and
+intimate friendship that arose between her husband and Cadurcis. They
+were inseparable companions. Independently of the natural sympathy
+between two highly imaginative minds, there were in the superior
+experience, the noble character, the vast knowledge, and refined taste
+of Herbert, charms of which Cadurcis was very susceptible Cadurcis had
+not been a great reader himself, and he liked the company of one whose
+mind was at once so richly cultured and so deeply meditative: thus he
+obtained matter and spirit distilled through the alembic of another's
+brain. Jealousy had never had a place in Herbert's temperament; now he
+was insensible even to emulation. He spoke of Cadurcis as he thought,
+with the highest admiration; as one without a rival, and in whose
+power it was to obtain an imperishable fame. It was his liveliest
+pleasure to assist the full development of such an intellect, and to
+pour to him, with a lavish hand, all the treasures of his taste, his
+learning, his fancy, and his meditation. His kind heart, his winning
+manners, his subdued and perfect temper, and the remembrance of the
+relation which he bore to Venetia, completed the spell which bound
+Cadurcis to him with all the finest feelings of his nature. It was,
+indeed, an intercourse peculiarly beneficial to Cadurcis, whose career
+had hitherto tended rather to the development of the power, than the
+refinement of his genius; and to whom an active communion with an
+equal spirit of a more matured intelligence was an incident rather to
+be desired than expected. Herbert and Cadurcis, therefore, spent their
+mornings together, sometimes in the library, sometimes wandering in
+the chestnut woods, sometimes sailing in the boat of the brig, for
+they were both fond of the sea: in these excursions, George was in
+general their companion. He had become a great favourite with Herbert,
+as with everybody else. No one managed a boat so well, although
+Cadurcis prided himself also on his skill in this respect; and George
+was so frank and unaffected, and so used to his cousin's habits, that
+his presence never embarrassed Herbert and Cadurcis, and they read or
+conversed quite at their ease, as if there were no third person to
+mar, by his want of sympathy, the full communion of their intellect.
+The whole circle met at dinner, and never again parted until at a late
+hour of night. This was a most agreeable life; Cadurcis himself, good
+humoured because he was happy, doubly exerted himself to ingratiate
+himself with Lady Annabel, and felt every day that he was advancing.
+Venetia always smiled upon him, and praised him delightfully for his
+delightful conduct.
+
+In the evening, Herbert would read to them the manuscript poem of
+Cadurcis, the fruits of his Attic residence and Grecian meditations.
+The poet would sometimes affect a playful bashfulness on this head,
+perhaps not altogether affected, and amuse Venetia, in a whisper, with
+his running comments; or exclaim with an arch air, 'I say, Venetia,
+what would Mrs. Montague and the Blues give for this, eh? I can fancy
+Hannah More in decent ecstasies!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+'It is an odd thing, my dear Herbert,' said Cadurcis to his friend, in
+one of these voyages, 'that destiny should have given you and me the
+same tutor.'
+
+'Masham!' said Herbert, smiling. 'I tell you what is much more
+singular, my dear Cadurcis; it is, that, notwithstanding being our
+tutor, a mitre should have fallen upon his head.'
+
+'I am heartily glad,' said Cadurcis. 'I like Masham very much; I
+really have a sincere affection for him. Do you know, during my
+infernal affair about those accursed Monteagles, when I went to the
+House of Lords, and was cut even by my own party; think of that, the
+polished ruffians! Masham was the only person who came forward and
+shook hands with me, and in the most marked manner. A bishop, too! and
+the other side! that was good, was it not? But he would not see his
+old pupil snubbed; if he had waited ten minutes longer, he might have
+had a chance of seeing him massacred. And then they complain of my
+abusing England, my mother country; a step-dame, I take it.'
+
+'Masham is in politics a Tory, in religion ultra-orthodox,' Herbert.
+'He has nothing about him of the latitudinarian; and yet he is the
+most amiable man with whom I am acquainted. Nature has given him a
+kind and charitable heart, which even his opinions have not succeeded
+in spoiling.'
+
+'Perhaps that is exactly what he is saying of us two at this moment,'
+said Cadurcis. 'After all, what is truth? It changes as you change
+your clime or your country; it changes with the century. The truth of
+a hundred years ago is not the truth of the present day, and yet it
+may have been as genuine. Truth at Rome is not the truth of London,
+and both of them differ from the truth of Constantinople. For my part,
+I believe everything.'
+
+'Well, that is practically prudent, if it be metaphysically possible,'
+said Herbert. 'Do you know that I have always been of opinion, that
+Pontius Pilate has been greatly misrepresented by Lord Bacon in the
+quotation of his celebrated question. 'What is truth?' said jesting
+Pilate, and would not wait for an answer. Let us be just to Pontius
+Pilate, who has sins enough surely to answer for. There is no
+authority for the jesting humour given by Lord Bacon. Pilate was
+evidently of a merciful and clement disposition; probably an
+Epicurean. His question referred to a declaration immediately
+preceding it, that He who was before him came to bear witness to the
+truth. Pilate inquired what truth?'
+
+'Well, I always have a prejudice against Pontius Pilate,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and I think it is from seeing him, when I was a child,
+on an old Dutch tile fireplace at Marringhurst, dressed like a
+burgomaster. One cannot get over one's early impressions; but when you
+picture him to me as an Epicurean, he assumes a new character. I fancy
+him young, noble, elegant, and accomplished; crowned with a wreath and
+waving a goblet, and enjoying his government vastly.'
+
+'Before the introduction of Christianity,' said Herbert, 'the
+philosophic schools answered to our present religious sects. You said
+of a man that he was a Stoic or an Epicurean, as you say of a man now
+that he is a Calvinist or a Wesleyan.'
+
+'I should have liked to have known Epicurus,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I would sooner have known him and Plato than any of the ancients,'
+said Herbert. 'I look upon Plato as the wisest and the profoundest of
+men, and upon Epicurus as the most humane and gentle.'
+
+'Now, how do you account for the great popularity of Aristotle in
+modern ages?' said Cadurcis; 'and the comparative neglect of these, at
+least his equals? Chance, I suppose, that settles everything.'
+
+'By no means,' said Herbert. 'If you mean by chance an absence of
+accountable cause, I do not believe such a quality as chance exists.
+Every incident that happens, must be a link in a chain. In the present
+case, the monks monopolised literature, such as it might be, and they
+exercised their intellect only in discussing words. They, therefore,
+adopted Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Plato interfered with their
+heavenly knowledge, and Epicurus, who maintained the rights of man to
+pleasure and happiness, would have afforded a dangerous and seducing
+contrast to their dark and miserable code of morals.'
+
+'I think, of the ancients,' said Cadurcis; 'Alcibiades and Alexander
+the Great are my favourites. They were young, beautiful, and
+conquerors; a great combination.'
+
+'And among the moderns?' inquired Herbert.
+
+'They don't touch my fancy,' said Cadurcis. 'Who are your heroes?'
+
+'Oh! I have many; but I confess I should like to pass a day with
+Milton, or Sir Philip Sidney.'
+
+'Among mere literary men,' said Cadurcis; 'I should say Bayle.'
+
+'And old Montaigne for me,' said Herbert.
+
+'Well, I would fain visit him in his feudal chateau,' said Cadurcis.
+'His is one of the books which give a spring to the mind. Of modern
+times, the feudal ages of Italy most interest me. I think that was a
+springtide of civilisation, all the fine arts nourished at the same
+moment.'
+
+'They ever will,' said Herbert. 'All the inventive arts maintain a
+sympathetic connection between each other, for, after all, they are
+only various expressions of one internal power, modified by different
+circumstances either of the individual or of society. It was so in
+the age of Pericles; I mean the interval which intervened between
+the birth of that great man and the death of Aristotle; undoubtedly,
+whether considered in itself, or with reference to the effects which
+it produced upon the subsequent destinies of civilised man, the most
+memorable in the history of the world.'
+
+'And yet the age of Pericles has passed away,' said Lord Cadurcis
+mournfully, 'and I have gazed upon the mouldering Parthenon. O
+Herbert! you are a great thinker and muse deeply; solve me the
+problem why so unparalleled a progress was made during that period
+in literature and the arts, and why that progress, so rapid and so
+sustained, so soon received a check and became retrograde?'
+
+'It is a problem left to the wonder and conjecture of posterity,' said
+Herbert. 'But its solution, perhaps, may principally be found in the
+weakness of their political institutions. Nothing of the Athenians
+remains except their genius; but they fulfilled their purpose. The
+wrecks and fragments of their subtle and profound minds obscurely
+suggest to us the grandeur and perfection of the whole. Their language
+excels every other tongue of the Western world; their sculptures
+baffle all subsequent artists; credible witnesses assure us that their
+paintings were not inferior; and we are only accustomed to consider
+the painters of Italy as those who have brought the art to its highest
+perfection, because none of the ancient pictures have been preserved.
+Yet of all their fine arts, it was music of which the Greeks were
+themselves most proud. Its traditionary effects were far more powerful
+than any which we experience from the compositions of our times. And
+now for their poetry, Cadurcis. It is in poetry, and poetry alone,
+that modern nations have maintained the majesty of genius. Do we equal
+the Greeks? Do we even excel them?'
+
+'Let us prove the equality first,' said Cadurcis. 'The Greeks excelled
+in every species of poetry. In some we do not even attempt to rival
+them. We have not a single modern ode, or a single modern pastoral. We
+have no one to place by Pindar, or the exquisite Theocritus. As for
+the epic, I confess myself a heretic as to Homer; I look upon the
+Iliad as a remnant of national songs; the wise ones agree that the
+Odyssey is the work of a later age. My instinct agrees with the result
+of their researches. I credit their conclusion. The Paradise Lost is,
+doubtless, a great production, but the subject is monkish. Dante is
+national, but he has all the faults of a barbarous age. In general the
+modern epic is framed upon the assumption that the Iliad is an orderly
+composition. They are indebted for this fallacy to Virgil, who called
+order out of chaos; but the Aeneid, all the same, appears to me an
+insipid creation. And now for the drama. You will adduce Shakspeare?'
+
+'There are passages in Dante,' said Herbert, 'not inferior, in my
+opinion, to any existing literary composition, but, as a whole, I will
+not make my stand on him; I am not so clear that, as a lyric poet,
+Petrarch may not rival the Greeks. Shakspeare I esteem of ineffable
+merit.'
+
+'And who is Shakspeare?' said Cadurcis. 'We know of him as much as we
+do of Homer. Did he write half the plays attributed to him? Did he
+ever write a single whole play? I doubt it. He appears to me to have
+been an inspired adapter for the theatres, which were then not as
+good as barns. I take him to have been a botcher up of old plays.
+His popularity is of modern date, and it may not last; it would have
+surprised him marvellously. Heaven knows, at present, all that bears
+his name is alike admired; and a regular Shaksperian falls into
+ecstasies with trash which deserves a niche in the Dunciad. For my
+part, I abhor your irregular geniuses, and I love to listen to the
+little nightingale of Twickenham.'
+
+'I have often observed,' said Herbert, 'that writers of an unbridled
+imagination themselves, admire those whom the world, erroneously,
+in my opinion, and from a confusion of ideas, esteems correct. I am
+myself an admirer of Pope, though I certainly should not ever think of
+classing him among the great creative spirits. And you, you are the
+last poet in the world, Cadurcis, whom one would have fancied his
+votary.'
+
+'I have written like a boy,' said Cadurcis. 'I found the public bite,
+and so I baited on with tainted meat. I have never written for fame,
+only for notoriety; but I am satiated; I am going to turn over a new
+leaf.'
+
+'For myself,' said Herbert, 'if I ever had the power to impress my
+creations on my fellow-men, the inclination is gone, and perhaps the
+faculty is extinct. My career is over; perhaps a solitary echo from my
+lyre may yet, at times, linger about the world like a breeze that has
+lost its way. But there is a radical fault in my poetic mind, and I am
+conscious of it. I am not altogether void of the creative faculty, but
+mine is a fragmentary mind; I produce no whole. Unless you do this,
+you cannot last; at least, you cannot materially affect your species.
+But what I admire in you, Cadurcis, is that, with all the faults
+of youth, of which you will free yourself, your creative power is
+vigorous, prolific, and complete; your creations rise fast and fair,
+like perfect worlds.'
+
+'Well, we will not compliment each other,' said Cadurcis; 'for, after
+all, it is a miserable craft. What is poetry but a lie, and what are
+poets but liars?'
+
+'You are wrong, Cadurcis,' said Herbert, 'poets are the unacknowledged
+legislators of the world.'
+
+'I see the towers of Porto Venere,' said Cadurcis directing the sail;
+'we shall soon be on shore. I think, too, I recognise Venetia. Ah! my
+dear Herbert, your daughter is a poem that beats all our inspiration!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+One circumstance alone cast a gloom over this happy family, and that
+was the approaching departure of Captain Cadurcis for England. This
+had been often postponed, but it could be postponed no longer. Not
+even the entreaties of those kind friends could any longer prevent
+what was inevitable. The kind heart, the sweet temper, and the lively
+and companionable qualities of Captain Cadurcis, had endeared him to
+everyone; all felt that his departure would occasion a blank in
+their life, impossible to be supplied. It reminded the Herberts also
+painfully of their own situation, in regard to their native country,
+which they were ever unwilling to dwell upon. George talked of
+returning to them, but the prospect was necessarily vague; they
+felt that it was only one of those fanciful visions with which an
+affectionate spirit attempts to soothe the pang of separation. His
+position, his duties, all the projects of his life, bound him to
+England, from which, indeed, he had been too long absent. It was
+selfish to wish that, for their sakes, he should sink down into a mere
+idler in Italy; and yet, when they recollected how little his future
+life could be connected with their own, everyone felt dispirited.
+
+'I shall not go boating to-day,' said George to Venetia; 'it is my
+last day. Mr. Herbert and Plantagenet talk of going to Lavenza; let us
+take a stroll together.'
+
+Nothing can be refused to those we love on the last day, and Venetia
+immediately acceded to his request. In the course of the morning,
+therefore, herself and George quitted the valley, in the direction
+of the coast towards Genoa. Many a white sail glittered on the blue
+waters; it was a lively and cheering scene; but both Venetia and her
+companion were depressed.
+
+'I ought to be happy,' said George, and sighed. 'The fondest wish
+of my heart is attained. You remember our conversation on the Lago
+Maggiore, Venetia? You see I was a prophet, and you will be Lady
+Cadurcis yet.'
+
+'We must keep up our spirits,' said Venetia; 'I do not despair of our
+all returning to England yet. So many wonders have happened, that I
+cannot persuade myself that this marvel will not also occur. I am sure
+my uncle will do something; I have a secret idea that the Bishop is
+all this time working for papa; I feel assured I shall see Cherbury
+and Cadurcis again, and Cadurcis will be your home.'
+
+'A year ago you appeared dying, and Plantagenet was the most miserable
+of men,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'You are both now perfectly well and
+perfectly happy, living even under the same roof, soon, I feel, to be
+united, and with the cordial approbation of Lady Annabel. Your father
+is restored to you. Every blessing in the world seems to cluster round
+your roof. It is selfish for me to wear a gloomy countenance.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you never can be selfish,' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes, I am selfish, Venetia. What else can make me sad?'
+
+'You know how much you contribute to our happiness,' said Venetia,
+'and you feel for our sufferings at your absence.'
+
+'No, Venetia, I feel for myself,' said Captain Cadurcis with energy;
+'I am certain that I never can be happy, except in your society and
+Plantagenet's. I cannot express to you how I love you both. Nothing
+else gives me the slightest interest.'
+
+'You must go home and marry,' said Venetia, smiling 'You must marry an
+heiress.'
+
+'Never,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'Nothing shall ever induce me to
+marry. No! all my dreams are confined to being the bachelor uncle of
+the family.'
+
+'Well, now I think,' said Venetia, 'of all the persons I know, there
+is no one so qualified for domestic happiness as yourself. I think
+your wife, George, would be a very fortunate woman, and I only wish I
+had a sister, that you might marry her.'
+
+'I wish you had, Venetia; I would give up my resolution against
+marriage directly.'
+
+'Alas!' said Venetia, 'there is always some bitter drop in the cup of
+life. Must you indeed go, George?'
+
+'My present departure is inevitable,' he replied; 'but I have some
+thoughts of giving up my profession and Parliament, and then I will
+return, never to leave you again.'
+
+'What will Lord ---- say? That will never do,' said Venetia. 'No; I
+should not be content unless you prospered in the world, George. You
+are made to prosper, and I should be miserable if you sacrificed your
+existence to us. You must go home, and you must marry, and write
+letters to us by every post, and tell us what a happy man you are. The
+best thing for you to do would be to live with your wife at the abbey;
+or Cherbury, if you liked. You see I settle everything.'
+
+'I never will marry,' said Captain Cadurcis, seriously.
+
+'Yes you will,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am quite serious, Venetia. Now, mark my words, and remember this
+day. I never will marry. I have a reason, and a strong and good one,
+for my resolution.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'Because my marriage will destroy the intimacy that subsists between
+me and yourself, and Plantagenet,' he added.
+
+'Your wife should be my friend,' said Venetia.
+
+'Happy woman!' said George.
+
+'Let us indulge for a moment in a dream of domestic bliss,' said
+Venetia gaily. 'Papa and mamma at Cherbury; Plantagenet and myself at
+the abbey, where you and your wife must remain until we could build
+you a house; and Dr. Masham coming down to spend Christmas with us.
+Would it not be delightful? I only hope Plantagenet would be tame. I
+think he would burst out a little sometimes.'
+
+'Not with you, Venetia, not with you,' said George 'you have a hold
+over him which nothing can ever shake. I could always put him in an
+amiable mood in an instant by mentioning your name.'
+
+'I wish you knew the abbey, George,' said Venetia. 'It is the most
+interesting of all old places. I love it. You must promise me when you
+arrive in England to go on a pilgrimage to Cadurcis and Cherbury, and
+write me a long account of it.'
+
+'I will indeed; I will write to you very often.'
+
+'You shall find me a most faithful correspondent, which, I dare say,
+Plantagenet would not prove.'
+
+'Oh! I beg your pardon,' said George; 'you have no idea of the
+quantity of letters he wrote me when he first quitted England.
+And such delightful ones! I do not think there is a more lively
+letter-writer in the world! His descriptions are so vivid; a few
+touches give you a complete picture; and then his observations, they
+are so playful! I assure you there is nothing in the world more easy
+and diverting than a letter from Plantagenet.'
+
+'If you could only see his first letter from Eton to me?' said
+Venetia. 'I have always treasured it. It certainly was not very
+diverting; and, if by easy you mean easy to decipher,' she added
+laughing, 'his handwriting must have improved very much lately. Dear
+Plantagenet, I am always afraid I never pay him sufficient respect;
+that I do not feel sufficient awe in his presence; but I cannot
+disconnect him from the playfellow of my infancy; and, do you know, it
+seems to me, whenever he addresses me, his voice and air change, and
+assume quite the tone and manner of childhood.'
+
+'I have never known him but as a great man,' said Captain Cadurcis;
+'but he was so frank and simple with me from the very first, that I
+cannot believe that it is not two years since we first met.'
+
+'Ah! I shall never forget that night at Ranelagh,' said Venetia, half
+with a smile and half with a sigh. 'How interesting he looked! I loved
+to see the people stare at him, and to hear them whisper his name.'
+
+Here they seated themselves by a fountain, overshadowed by a
+plane-tree, and for a while talked only of Plantagenet.
+
+'All the dreams of my life have come to pass,' said Venetia. 'I
+remember when I was at Weymouth, ill and not very happy, I used to
+roam about the sands, thinking of papa, and how I wished Plantagenet
+was like him, a great man, a great poet, whom all the world admired.
+Little did I think that, before a year had passed, Plantagenet, my
+unknown Plantagenet, would be the admiration of England; little did I
+think another year would pass, and I should be living with my father
+and Plantagenet together, and they should be bosom friends. You see,
+George, we must never despair.'
+
+'Under this bright sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'one is naturally
+sanguine, but think of me alone and in gloomy England.'
+
+'It is indeed a bright sun,' said Venetia; 'how wonderful to wake
+every morning, and be sure of meeting its beam.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis looked around him with a sailor's eye. Over the
+Apennines, towards Genoa, there was a ridge of dark clouds piled up
+with such compactness, that they might have been mistaken in a hasty
+survey for part of the mountains themselves.
+
+'Bright as is the sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'we may have yet a
+squall before night.'
+
+'I was delighted with Venice,' said his companion, not noticing his
+observation; 'I think of all places in the world it is one which
+Plantagenet would most admire. I cannot believe but that even his
+delicious Athens would yield to it.'
+
+'He did lead the oddest life at Athens you can conceive,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'The people did not know what to make of him. He lived in
+the Latin convent, a fine building which he had almost to himself,
+for there are not half a dozen monks. He used to pace up and down the
+terrace which he had turned into a garden, and on which he kept all
+sorts of strange animals. He wrote continually there. Indeed he did
+nothing but write. His only relaxation was a daily ride to Piraeus,
+about five miles over the plain; he told me it was the only time in
+his life he was ever contented with himself except when he was at
+Cherbury. He always spoke of London with disgust.'
+
+'Plantagenet loves retirement and a quiet life,' said Venetia; 'but he
+must not be marred with vulgar sights and common-place duties. That is
+the secret with him.'
+
+'I think the wind has just changed,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'It seems
+to me that we shall have a sirocco. There, it shifts again! We shall
+have a sirocco for certain.'
+
+'What did you think of papa when you first saw him?' said Venetia.
+'Was he the kind of person you expected to see?'
+
+'Exactly,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'So very spiritual! Plantagenet said
+to me, as we went home the first night, that he looked like a golden
+phantom. I think him very like you, Venetia; indeed, there can be no
+doubt you inherited your face from your father.'
+
+'Ah! if you had seen his portrait at Cherbury, when he was only
+twenty!' said Venetia. 'That was a golden phantom, or rather he looked
+like Hyperion. What are you staring at so, George?'
+
+'I do not like this wind,' muttered Captain Cadurcis. 'There it goes.'
+
+'You cannot see the wind, George?'
+
+'Yes, I can, Venetia, and I do not like it at all. Do you see that
+black spot flitting like a shade over the sea? It is like the
+reflection of a cloud on the water; but there is no cloud. Well, that
+is the wind, Venetia, and a very wicked wind too.'
+
+'How strange! Is that indeed the wind?'
+
+'We had better return home,' said Captain Cadurcis I wish they had not
+gone to Lavenza.'
+
+'But there is no danger?' said Venetia.
+
+'Danger? No! no danger, but they may get a wet jacket.'
+
+They walked on; but Captain Cadurcis was rather distrait: his eye was
+always watching the wind; at last he said, 'I tell you, Venetia, we
+must walk quickly; for, by Jove, we are going to have a white squall.'
+
+They hurried their pace, Venetia mentioned her alarm again about the
+boat; but her companion reassured her; yet his manner was not so
+confident as his words.
+
+A white mist began to curl above the horizon, the blueness of the day
+seemed suddenly to fade, and its colour became grey; there was a swell
+on the waters that hitherto had been quite glassy, and they were
+covered with a scurfy foam.
+
+'I wish I had been with them,' said Captain Cadurcis, evidently very
+anxious.
+
+'George, you are alarmed,' said Venetia, earnestly. 'I am sure there
+is danger.'
+
+'Danger! How can there be danger, Venetia? Perhaps they are in port by
+this time. I dare say we shall find them at Spezzia. I will see you
+home and run down to them. Only hurry, for your own sake, for you do
+not know what a white squall in the Mediterranean is. We have but a
+few moments.'
+
+And even at this very instant, the wind came roaring and rushing with
+such a violent gush that Venetia could scarcely stand; George put his
+arm round her to support her. The air was filled with thick white
+vapour, so that they could no longer see the ocean, only the surf
+rising very high all along the coast.
+
+'Keep close to me, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis; 'hold my arm and I
+will walk first, for we shall not be able to see a yard before us in a
+minute. I know where we are. We are above the olive wood, and we shall
+soon be in the ravine. These Mediterranean white squalls are nasty
+things; I had sooner by half be in a south-wester; for one cannot run
+before the wind in this bay, the reefs stretch such a long way out.'
+
+The danger, and the inutility of expressing fears which could only
+perplex her guide, made Venetia silent, but she was terrified.
+She could not divest herself of apprehension about her father and
+Plantagenet. In spite of all he said, it was evident that her
+companion was alarmed.
+
+They had now entered the valley; the mountains had in some degree kept
+off the vapour; the air was more clear. Venetia and Captain Cadurcis
+stopped a moment to breathe. 'Now, Venetia, you are safe,' said
+Captain Cadurcis. 'I will not come in; I will run down to the bay at
+once.' He wiped the mist off his face: Venetia perceived him deadly
+pale.
+
+'George,' she said, 'conceal nothing from me; there is danger,
+imminent danger. Tell me at once.'
+
+'Indeed, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'I am sure everything will
+be quite right. There is some danger, certainly, at this moment; but
+of course, long ago, they have run into harbour. I have no doubt they
+are at Spezzia at this moment. Now, do not be alarmed; indeed there
+is no cause. God bless you!' he said, and bounded away. 'No cause,'
+thought he to himself, as the wind sounded like thunder, and the
+vapour came rushing up the ravine. 'God grant I may be right; but
+neither between the Tropics nor on the Line have I witnessed a severer
+squall than this! What open boat can live in this weather Oh! that I
+had been with them. I shall never forgive myself!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Venetia found her mother walking up and down the room, as was her
+custom when she was agitated. She hurried to her daughter. 'You must
+change your dress instantly, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel. 'Where is
+George?'
+
+'He has gone down to Spezzia to papa and Plantagenet; it is a white
+squall; it comes on very suddenly in this sea. He ran down to Spezzia
+instantly, because he thought they would be wet,' said the agitated
+Venetia, speaking with rapidity and trying to appear calm.
+
+'Are they at Spezzia?' inquired Lady Annabel, quickly.
+
+'George has no doubt they are, mother,' said Venetia.
+
+'No doubt!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, in great distress. 'God grant they
+may be only wet.'
+
+'Dearest mother,' said Venetia, approaching her, but speech deserted
+her. She had advanced to encourage Lady Annabel, but her own fear
+checked the words on her lips.
+
+'Change your dress, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel; 'lose no time in
+doing that. I think I will send down to Spezzia at once,'
+
+'That is useless now, dear mother, for George is there.'
+
+'Go, dearest,' said Lady Annabel; 'I dare say, we have no cause for
+fear, but I am exceedingly alarmed about your father, about them: I
+am, indeed. I do not like these sudden squalls, and I never liked this
+boating; indeed, I never did. George being with them reconciled me to
+it. Now go, Venetia; go, my love.'
+
+Venetia quitted the room. She was so agitated that she made Pauncefort
+a confidant of her apprehensions.
+
+'La! my dear miss,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'I should never have
+thought of such a thing! Do not you remember what the old man said
+at Weymouth, "there is many a boat will live in a rougher sea than a
+ship;" and it is such an unlikely thing, it is indeed, Miss Venetia. I
+am certain sure my lord can manage a boat as well as a common sailor,
+and master is hardly less used to it than he. La! miss, don't make
+yourself nervous about any such preposterous ideas. And I dare say you
+will find them in the saloon when you go down again. Really I should
+not wonder. I think you had better wear your twill dress; I have put
+the new trimming on.'
+
+They had not returned when Venetia joined her mother. That indeed she
+could scarcely expect. But, in about half an hour, a message arrived
+from Captain Cadurcis that they were not at Spezzia, but from
+something he had heard, he had no doubt they were at Sarzana, and he
+was going to ride on there at once. He felt sure, however, from what
+he had heard, they were at Sarzana. This communication afforded Lady
+Annabel a little ease, but Venetia's heart misgave her. She recalled
+the alarm of George in the morning, which it was impossible for him to
+disguise, and she thought she recognised in this hurried message and
+vague assurances of safety something of the same apprehension, and the
+same fruitless efforts to conceal it.
+
+Now came the time of terrible suspense. Sarzana was nearly twenty
+miles distant from Spezzia. The evening must arrive before they could
+receive intelligence from Captain Cadurcis. In the meantime the squall
+died away, the heavens became again bright, and, though the waves were
+still tumultuous, the surf was greatly decreased. Lady Annabel had
+already sent down more than one messenger to the bay, but they brought
+no intelligence; she resolved now to go herself, that she might have
+the satisfaction of herself cross-examining the fishermen who had been
+driven in from various parts by stress of weather. She would not let
+Venetia accompany her, who, she feared, might already suffer from the
+exertions and rough weather of the morning. This was a most anxious
+hour, and yet the absence of her mother was in some degree a relief to
+Venetia; it at least freed her from the perpetual effort of assumed
+composure. While her mother remained, Venetia had affected to read,
+though her eye wandered listlessly over the page, or to draw, though
+the pencil trembled in her hand; anything which might guard her from
+conveying to her mother that she shared the apprehensions which had
+already darkened her mother's mind. But now that Lady Annabel was
+gone, Venetia, muffling herself up in her shawl, threw herself on a
+sofa, and there she remained without a thought, her mind a chaos of
+terrible images.
+
+Her mother returned, and with a radiant countenance, Venetia sprang
+from the sofa. 'There is good news; O mother! have they returned?'
+
+'They are not at Spezzia,' said Lady Annabel, throwing herself into a
+chair panting for breath; 'but there is good news. You see I was right
+to go, Venetia. These stupid people we send only ask questions, and
+take the first answer. I have seen a fisherman, and he says he heard
+that two persons, Englishmen he believes, have put into Lerici in an
+open boat.'
+
+'God be praised!' said Venetia. 'O mother, I can now confess to you
+the terror I have all along felt.'
+
+'My own heart assures me of it, my child,' said Lady Annabel weeping;
+and they mingled their tears together, but tears not of sorrow.
+
+'Poor George!' said Lady Annabel, 'he will have a terrible journey to
+Sarzana, and be feeling so much for us! Perhaps he may meet them.'
+
+'I feel assured he will,' said Venetia; 'and perhaps ere long they
+will all three be here again. Joy! joy!'
+
+'They must never go in that boat again,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Oh! they never will, dearest mother, if you ask them not,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'We will send to Lerici,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Instantly,' said Venetia; 'but I dare say they already sent us a
+messenger.'
+
+'No!' said Lady Annabel; 'men treat the danger that is past very
+lightly. We shall not hear from them except in person.'
+
+Time now flew more lightly. They were both easy in their minds. The
+messenger was despatched to Lerici; but even Lerici was a considerable
+distance, and hours must elapse before his return. Still there was the
+hope of seeing them, or hearing from them in the interval.
+
+'I must go out, dear mother,' said Venetia. 'Let us both go out. It
+is now very fine. Let us go just to the ravine, for indeed it is
+impossible to remain here.'
+
+Accordingly they both went forth, and took up a position on the coast
+which commanded a view on all sides. All was radiant again, and
+comparatively calm. Venetia looked upon the sea, and said, 'Ah! I
+never shall forget a white squall in the Mediterranean, for all this
+splendour.'
+
+It was sunset: they returned home. No news yet from Lerici. Lady
+Annabel grew uneasy again. The pensive and melancholy hour encouraged
+gloom; but Venetia, who was sanguine, encouraged her mother.
+
+'Suppose they were not Englishmen in the boat,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is impossible, mother. What other two persons in this
+neighbourhood could have been in an open boat? Besides, the man said
+Englishmen. You remember, he said Englishmen. You are quite sure he
+did? It must be they. I feel as convinced of it as of your presence.'
+
+'I think there can be no doubt,' said Lady Annabel. 'I wish that the
+messenger would return.'
+
+The messenger did return. No two persons in an open boat had put into
+Lerici; but a boat, like the one described, with every stitch of
+canvas set, had passed Lerici just before the squall commenced, and,
+the people there doubted not, had made Sarzana.
+
+Lady Annabel turned pale, but Venetia was still sanguine. 'They are
+at Sarzana,' she said; 'they must be at Sarzana: you see George was
+right. He said he was sure they were at Sarzana. Besides, dear mother,
+he heard they were at Sarzana.'
+
+'And we heard they were at Lerici,' said Lady Annabel in a melancholy
+tone.
+
+And so they were, dear mother; it all agrees. The accounts are
+consistent. Do not you see how very consistent they are? They were
+seen at Lerici, and were off Lerici, but they made Sarzana; and George
+heard they were at Sarzana. I am certain they are at Sarzana. I feel
+quite easy; I feel as easy as if they were here. They are safe at
+Sarzana. But it is too far to return to-night. We shall see them at
+breakfast to-morrow, all three.'
+
+'Venetia, dearest! do not you sit up,' said her mother. 'I think there
+is a chance of George returning; I feel assured he will send to-night;
+but late, of course. Go, dearest, and sleep.'
+
+'Sleep!' thought Venetia to herself; but to please her mother she
+retired.
+
+'Good-night, my child,' said Lady Annabel. 'The moment any one
+arrives, you shall be aroused.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia, without undressing, lay down on her bed, watching for some
+sound that might give her hope of George's return. Dwelling on every
+instant, the time dragged heavily along, and she thought that the
+night had half passed when Pauncefort entered her room, and she
+learnt, to her surprise, that only an hour had elapsed since she had
+parted from her mother. This entrance of Pauncefort had given Venetia
+a momentary hope that they had returned.
+
+'I assure you, Miss Venetia, it is only an hour,' said Pauncefort,
+'and nothing could have happened. Now do try to go to sleep, that is
+a dear young lady, for I am certain sure that they will all return in
+the morning, as I am here. I was telling my lady just now, I said,
+says I, I dare say they are all very wet, and very fatigued.'
+
+'They would have returned, Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'or they would
+have sent. They are not at Sarzana.'
+
+'La! Miss Venetia, why should they be at Sarzana? Why should they not
+have gone much farther on! For, as Vicenzo was just saying to me, and
+Vicenzo knows all about the coast, with such a wind as this, I should
+not be surprised if they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'O Pauncefort!' said Venetia, 'I am sick at heart!'
+
+'Now really, Miss Venetia, do not take on so!' said Pauncefort; 'for
+do not you remember when his lordship ran away from the abbey, and
+went a gipsying, nothing would persuade poor Mrs. Cadurcis that he was
+not robbed and murdered, and yet you see he was as safe and sound all
+the time, as if he had been at Cherbury.'
+
+'Does Vicenzo really think they could have reached Leghorn?' said
+Venetia, clinging to every fragment of hope.
+
+'He is morally sure of it, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'and I feel
+quite as certain, for Vicenzo is always right.'
+
+'I had confidence about Sarzana,' said Venetia; 'I really did believe
+they were at Sarzana. If only Captain Cadurcis would return; if he
+only would return, and say they were not at Sarzana, I would try to
+believe they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'Now, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'I am certain sure that they are
+quite safe; for my lord is a very good sailor; he is, indeed; all the
+men say so; and the boat is as seaworthy a boat as boat can be. There
+is not the slightest fear, I do assure you, miss.'
+
+'Do the men say that Plantagenet is a good sailor?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Quite professional!' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and can command a
+ship as well as the best of them. They all say that.'
+
+'Hush! Pauncefort, I hear something.'
+
+'It's only my lady, miss. I know her step,'
+
+'Is my mother going to bed?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes,' said Pauncefort, 'my lady sent me here to see after you. I wish
+I could tell her you were asleep.'
+
+'It is impossible to sleep,' said Venetia, rising up from the bed,
+withdrawing the curtain, and looking at the sky. 'What a peaceful
+night! I wish my heart were like the sky. I think I will go to mamma,
+Pauncefort!'
+
+'Oh! dear, Miss Venetia, I am sure I think you had better not. If you
+and my lady, now, would only just go to sleep, and forget every thing
+till morning, it would be much better for you. Besides, I am sure if
+my lady knew you were not gone to bed already, it would only make her
+doubly anxious. Now, really, Miss Venetia, do take my advice, and just
+lie down, again. You may be sure the moment any one arrives I will let
+you know. Indeed, I shall go and tell my lady that you are lying down
+as it is, and very drowsy;' and, so saying, Mistress Pauncefort caught
+up her candle, and bustled out of the room.
+
+Venetia took up the volume of her father's poems, which Cadurcis had
+filled with his notes. How little did Plantagenet anticipate, when he
+thus expressed at Athens the passing impressions of his mind, that,
+ere a year had glided away, his fate would be so intimately blended
+with that of Herbert! It was impossible, however, for Venetia to lose
+herself in a volume which, under any other circumstances, might have
+compelled her spirit! the very associations with the writers added
+to the terrible restlessness of her mind. She paused each instant
+to listen for the wished-for sound, but a mute stillness reigned
+throughout the house and household. There was something in this deep,
+unbroken silence, at a moment when anxiety was universally diffused
+among the dwellers beneath that roof, and the heart of more than one
+of them was throbbing with all the torture of the most awful suspense,
+that fell upon Venetia's excited nerves with a very painful and even
+insufferable influence. She longed for sound, for some noise that
+might assure her she was not the victim of a trance. She closed her
+volume with energy, and she started at the sound she had herself
+created. She rose and opened the door of her chamber very softly, and
+walked into the vestibule. There were caps, and cloaks, and whips, and
+canes of Cadurcis and her father, lying about in familiar confusion.
+It seemed impossible but that they were sleeping, as usual, under the
+same roof. And where were they? That she should live and be unable to
+answer that terrible question! When she felt the utter helplessness of
+all her strong sympathy towards them, it seemed to her that she must
+go mad. She gazed around her with a wild and vacant stare. At the
+bottom of her heart there was a fear maturing into conviction too
+horrible for expression. She returned to her own chamber, and the
+exhaustion occasioned by her anxiety, and the increased coolness of
+the night, made her at length drowsy. She threw herself on the bed and
+slumbered.
+
+She started in her sleep, she awoke, she dreamed they had come home.
+She rose and looked at the progress of the night. The night was waning
+fast; a grey light was on the landscape; the point of day approached.
+Venetia stole softly to her mother's room, and entered it with a
+soundless step. Lady Annabel had not retired to bed. She had sat up
+the whole night, and was now asleep. A lamp on a small table was
+burning at her side, and she held, firmly grasped in her hand, the
+letter of her husband, which he had addressed to her at Venice, and
+which she had been evidently reading. A tear glided down the cheek of
+Venetia as she watched her mother retaining that letter with fondness
+even in her sleep, and when she thought of all the misery, and
+heartaches, and harrowing hours that had preceded its receipt, and
+which Venetia believed that letter had cured for ever. What misery
+awaited them now? Why were they watchers of the night? She shuddered
+when these dreadful questions flitted through her mind. She shuddered
+and sighed. Her mother started, and woke.
+
+'Who is there?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Venetia.'
+
+'My child, have you not slept?'
+
+'Yes, mother, and I woke refreshed, as I hope you do.'
+
+'I wake with trust in God's mercy,' said Lady Annabel. 'Tell me the
+hour.'
+
+'It is just upon dawn, mother.'
+
+'Dawn! no one has returned, or come.'
+
+'The house is still, mother.'
+
+'I would you were in bed, my child.'
+
+'Mother, I can sleep no more. I wish to be with you;' and Venetia
+seated herself at her mother's feet, and reclined her head upon her
+mother's knee.
+
+'I am glad the night has passed, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+suppressed yet solemn tone. 'It has been a trial.' And here she placed
+the letter in her bosom. Venetia could only answer with a sigh.
+
+'I wish Pauncefort would come,' said Lady Annabel; 'and yet I do not
+like to rouse her, she was up so late, poor creature! If it be the
+dawn I should like to send out messengers again; something may be
+heard at Spezzia.'
+
+'Vicenzo thinks they have gone to Leghorn, mother.'
+
+'Has he heard anything!' said Lady Annabel, eagerly.
+
+'No, but he is an excellent judge,' said Venetia, repeating all
+Pauncefort's consolatory chatter. 'He knows the coast so well. He says
+he is sure the wind would carry them on to Leghorn; and that accounts,
+you know, mother, for George not returning. They are all at Leghorn.'
+
+'Would that George would return,' murmured Lady Annabel; 'I wish I
+could see again that sailor who said they were at Lerici. He was an
+intelligent man.'
+
+'Perhaps if we send down to the bay he may be there,' said Venetia.'
+
+'Hush! I hear a step!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+Venetia sprung up and opened the door, but it was only Pauncefort in
+the vestibule.
+
+'The household are all up, my lady,' said that important personage
+entering; ''tis a beautiful morning. Vicenzo has run down to the bay,
+my lady; I sent him off immediately. Vicenzo says he is certain sure
+they are at Leghorn, my lady; and, this time three years, the very
+same thing happened. They were fishing for anchovies, my lady, close
+by, my lady, near Sarzana; two young men, or rather one about the same
+age as master, and one like my lord; cousins, my lady, and just in the
+same sort of boat, my lady; and there came on a squall, just the same
+sort of squall, my lady; and they did not return home; and everyone
+was frightened out of their wits, my lady, and their wives and
+families quite distracted; and after all they were at Leghorn; for
+this sort of wind always takes your open boats to Leghorn, Vicenzo
+says.'
+
+The sun rose, the household were all stirring, and many of them
+abroad; the common routine of domestic duty seemed, by some general
+yet not expressed understanding, to have ceased. The ladies descended
+below at a very early hour, and went forth into the valley, once the
+happy valley. What was to be its future denomination? Vicenzo returned
+from the bay, and he contrived to return with cheering intelligence.
+The master of a felucca who, in consequence of the squall had put in
+at Lerici, and in the evening dropped down to Spezzia, had met an open
+boat an hour before he reached Sarzana, and was quite confident that,
+if it had put into port, it must have been, from the speed at which it
+was going, a great distance down the coast. No wrecks had been heard
+of in the neighbourhood. This intelligence, the gladsome time of day,
+and the non-arrival of Captain Cadurcis, which according to their mood
+was always a circumstance that counted either for good or for evil,
+and the sanguine feelings which make us always cling to hope,
+altogether reassured our friends. Venetia dismissed from her mind the
+dark thought which for a moment had haunted her in the noon of night;
+and still it was a suspense, a painful, agitating suspense, but only
+suspense that yet influenced them.
+
+'Time! said Lady Annabel. 'Time! we must wait.'
+
+Venetia consoled her mother; she affected even a gaiety of spirit;
+she was sure that Vicenzo would turn out to be right, after all;
+Pauncefort said he always was right, and that they were at Leghorn.
+
+The day wore apace; the noon arrived and passed; it was even
+approaching sunset. Lady Annabel was almost afraid to counterorder the
+usual meals, lest Venetia should comprehend her secret terror; the
+very same sentiment influenced Venetia. Thus they both had submitted
+to the ceremony of breakfast, but when the hour of dinner approached
+they could neither endure the mockery. They looked at each other, and
+almost at the same time they proposed that, instead of dining, they
+should walk down to the bay.
+
+'I trust we shall at least hear something before the night,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'I confess I dread the coming night. I do not think I could
+endure it.'
+
+'The longer we do not hear, the more certain I am of their being at
+Leghorn,' said Venetia.
+
+'I have a great mind to travel there to-night,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+As they were stepping into the portico, Venetia recognised Captain
+Cadurcis in the distance. She turned pale; she would have fallen had
+she not leaned on her mother, who was not so advanced, and who had not
+seen him.
+
+'What is the matter, Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, alarmed.
+
+'He is here, he is here!'
+
+'Marmion?'
+
+'No, George. Let me sit down.'
+
+Her mother tried to support her to a chair. Lady Annabel took off her
+bonnet. She had not strength to walk forth. She could not speak. She
+sat down opposite Venetia, and her countenance pictured distress to so
+painful a degree, that at any other time Venetia would have flown to
+her, but in this crisis of suspense it was impossible. George was in
+sight; he was in the portico; he was in the room.
+
+He looked wan, haggard, and distracted. More than once he essayed to
+speak, but failed.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at him with a strange, delirious expression.
+Venetia rushed forward and seized his arm, and gazed intently on his
+face. He shrank from her glance; his frame trembled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+In the heart of the tempest Captain Cadurcis traced his way in a sea
+of vapour with extreme danger and difficulty to the shore. On his
+arrival at Spezzia, however, scarcely a house was visible, and the
+only evidence of the situation of the place was the cessation of an
+immense white surf which otherwise indicated the line of the sea, but
+the absence of which proved his contiguity to a harbour. In the thick
+fog he heard the cries and shouts of the returning fishermen, and
+of their wives and children responding from the land to their
+exclamations. He was forced, therefore, to wait at Spezzia, in an
+agony of impotent suspense, until the fury of the storm was over and
+the sky was partially cleared. At length the objects became gradually
+less obscure; he could trace the outline of the houses, and catch a
+glimpse of the water half a mile out, and soon the old castles which
+guard the entrance of the strait that leads into the gulf, looming
+in the distance, and now and then a group of human beings in the
+vanishing vapour. Of these he made some inquiries, but in vain,
+respecting the boat and his friends. He then made the brig, but could
+learn nothing except their departure in the morning. He at length
+obtained a horse and galloped along the coast towards Lerici, keeping
+a sharp look out as he proceeded and stopping at every village in his
+progress for intelligence. When he had arrived in the course of three
+hours at Lerici, the storm had abated, the sky was clear, and no
+evidence of the recent squall remained except the agitated state
+of the waves. At Lerici he could hear nothing, so he hurried on to
+Sarzana, where he learnt for the first time that an open boat,
+with its sails set, had passed more than an hour before the squall
+commenced. From Sarzana he hastened on to Lavenza, a little port, the
+nearest sea-point to Massa, and where the Carrara marble is shipped
+for England. Here also his inquiries were fruitless, and, exhausted
+by his exertions, he dismounted and rested at the inn, not only for
+repose, but to consider over the course which he should now pursue.
+The boat had not been seen off Lavenza, and the idea that they had
+made the coast towards Leghorn now occurred to him. His horse was so
+wearied that he was obliged to stop some time at Lavenza, for he could
+procure no other mode of conveyance; the night also was fast coming
+on, and to proceed to Leghorn by this dangerous route at this hour was
+impossible. At Lavenza therefore he remained, resolved to hasten
+to Leghorn at break of day. This was a most awful night. Although
+physically exhausted, Captain Cadurcis could not sleep, and, after
+some vain efforts, he quitted his restless bed on which he had laid
+down without undressing, and walked forth to the harbour. Between
+anxiety for Herbert and his cousin, and for the unhappy women whom he
+had left behind, he was nearly distracted. He gazed on the sea, as if
+some sail in sight might give him a chance of hope. His professional
+experience assured him of all the danger of the squall. He could not
+conceive how an open boat could live in such a sea, and an instant
+return to port so soon as the squall commenced, appeared the only
+chance of its salvation. Could they have reached Leghorn? It seemed
+impossible. There was no hope they could now be at Sarzana, or Lerici.
+When he contemplated the full contingency of what might have occurred,
+his mind wandered, and refused to comprehend the possibility of the
+terrible conclusion. He thought the morning would never break.
+
+There was a cavernous rock by the seashore, that jutted into the water
+like a small craggy promontory. Captain Cadurcis climbed to its top,
+and then descending, reclined himself upon an inferior portion of it,
+which formed a natural couch with the wave on each side. There, lying
+at his length, he gazed upon the moon and stars whose brightness he
+thought would never dim. The Mediterranean is a tideless sea, but the
+swell of the waves, which still set in to the shore, bore occasionally
+masses of sea-weed and other marine formations, and deposited them
+around him, plashing, as it broke against the shore, with a melancholy
+and monotonous sound. The abstraction of the scene, the hour, and the
+surrounding circumstances brought, however, no refreshment to the
+exhausted spirit of George Cadurcis. He could not think, indeed he did
+not dare to think; but the villa of the Apennines and the open boat in
+the squall flitted continually before him. His mind was feeble though
+excited, and he fell into a restless and yet unmeaning reverie. As
+long as he had been in action, as long as he had been hurrying along
+the coast, the excitement of motion, the constant exercise of his
+senses, had relieved or distracted the intolerable suspense. But this
+pause, this inevitable pause, overwhelmed him. It oppressed his spirit
+like eternity. And yet what might the morning bring? He almost wished
+that he might remain for ever on this rock watching the moon and
+stars, and that the life of the world might never recommence.
+
+He started; he had fallen into a light slumber; he had been dreaming;
+he thought he had heard the voice of Venetia calling him; he had
+forgotten where he was; he stared at the sea and sky, and recalled
+his dreadful consciousness. The wave broke with a heavy plash that
+attracted his attention: it was, indeed, that sound that had awakened
+him. He looked around; there was some object; he started wildly from
+his resting-place, sprang over the cavern, and bounded on the beach.
+It was a corpse; he is kneeling by its side. It is the corpse of his
+cousin! Lord Cadurcis was a fine swimmer, and had evidently made
+strong efforts for his life, for he was partly undressed. In all the
+insanity of hope, still wilder than despair, George Cadurcis seized
+the body and bore it some yards upon the shore. Life had been long
+extinct. The corpse was cold and stark, the eyes closed, an expression
+of energy, however, yet lingering in the fixed jaw, and the hair
+sodden with the sea. Suddenly Captain Cadurcis rushed to the inn and
+roused the household. With a distracted air, and broken speech and
+rapid motion, he communicated the catastrophe. Several persons, some
+bearing torches, others blankets and cordials, followed him instantly
+to the fatal spot. They hurried to the body, they applied all the rude
+remedies of the moment, rather from the impulse of nervous excitement
+than with any practical purpose; for the case had been indeed long
+hopeless. While Captain Cadurcis leant over the body, chafing
+the extremities in a hurried frenzy, and gazing intently on the
+countenance, a shout was heard from one of the stragglers who had
+recently arrived. The sea had washed on the beach another corpse: the
+form of Marmion Herbert. It would appear that he had made no struggle
+to save himself, for his hand was locked in his waistcoat, where, at
+the moment, he had thrust the Phaedo, showing that he had been reading
+to the last, and was meditating on immortality when he died.
+
+END OF BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+It was the commencement of autumn. The verdure of summer still
+lingered on the trees; the sky, if not so cloudless, was almost as
+refulgent as Italy; and the pigeons, bright and glancing, clustered on
+the roof of the hall of Cherbury. The steward was in attendance; the
+household, all in deep mourning, were assembled; everything was in
+readiness for the immediate arrival of Lady Annabel Herbert.
+
+''Tis nearly four years come Martinmas,' said the grey-headed butler,
+'since my lady left us.'
+
+'And no good has come of it,' said the housekeeper. 'And for my part I
+never heard of good coming from going to foreign parts.'
+
+'I shall like to see Miss Venetia again,' said a housemaid. 'Bless her
+sweet face.'
+
+'I never expected to see her Miss Venetia again from all we heard,'
+said a footman.
+
+'God's will be done!' said the grey-headed butler; 'but I hope she
+will find happiness at home. 'Tis nigh on twenty years since I first
+nursed her in these arms.'
+
+'I wonder if there is any new Lord Cadurcis,' said the footman. 'I
+think he was the last of the line.'
+
+'It would have been a happy day if I had lived to have seen the poor
+young lord marry Miss Venetia,' said the housekeeper. 'I always
+thought that match was made in heaven.'
+
+'He was a sweet-spoken young gentleman,' said the housemaid.
+
+'For my part,' said the footman, 'I should like to have seen our real
+master, Squire Herbert. He was a famous gentleman by all accounts.'
+
+'I wish they had lived quietly at home,' said the housekeeper.
+
+'I shall never forget the time when my lord returned,' said the
+grey-headed butler. 'I must say I thought it was a match.'
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort seemed to think so,' said the housemaid.
+
+'And she understands those things,' said the footman.
+
+'I see the carriage,' said a servant who was at a window in the hall.
+All immediately bustled about, and the housekeeper sent a message to
+the steward.
+
+The carriage might be just discovered at the end of the avenue. It was
+some time before it entered the iron gates that were thrown open for
+its reception. The steward stood on the steps with his hat off, the
+servants were ranged in order at the entrance. Touching their horses
+with the spur, and cracking their whips, the postilions dashed
+round the circular plot and stopped at the hall-door. Under any
+circumstances a return home after an interval of years is rather an
+awful moment; there was not a servant who was not visibly affected.
+On the outside of the carriage was a foreign servant and Mistress
+Pauncefort, who was not so profuse as might have been expected in her
+recognitions of her old friends; her countenance was graver than of
+yore. Misfortune and misery had subdued even Mistress Pauncefort. The
+foreign servant opened the door of the carriage; a young man, who was
+a stranger to the household, but who was in deep mourning, alighted,
+and then Lady Annabel appeared. The steward advanced to welcome her,
+the household bowed and curtseyed. She smiled on them for a moment
+graciously and kindly, but her countenance immediately reassumed a
+serious air, and whispering one word to the strange gentleman, she
+entered the hall alone, inviting the steward to follow her.
+
+'I hope your ladyship is well; welcome home, my lady; welcome again to
+Cherbury; a welcome return, my lady; hope Miss Venetia is quite well;
+happy to see your ladyship amongst us again, and Miss Venetia too, my
+lady.' Lady Annabel acknowledged these salutations with kindness, and
+then, saying that Miss Herbert was not very well and was fatigued with
+her journey, she dismissed her humble but trusty friends. Lady Annabel
+then turned and nodded to her fellow-traveller.
+
+Upon this Lord Cadurcis, if we must indeed use a title from which he
+himself shrank, carried a shrouded form in his arms into the hall,
+where the steward alone lingered, though withdrawn to the back part
+of the scene; and Lady Annabel, advancing to meet him, embraced his
+treasured burden, her own unhappy child.
+
+'Now, Venetia! dearest Venetia!' she said, ''tis past; we are at
+home.'
+
+Venetia leant upon her mother, but made no reply.
+
+'Upstairs, dearest,' said Lady Annabel: 'a little exertion, a very
+little.' Leaning on her mother and Lord Cadurcis, Venetia ascended the
+staircase, and they reached the terrace-room. Venetia looked around
+her as she entered the chamber; that scene of her former life,
+endeared to her by so many happy hours, and so many sweet incidents;
+that chamber where she had first seen Plantagenet. Lord Cadurcis
+supported her to a chair, and then, overwhelmed by irresistible
+emotion, she sank back in a swoon.
+
+No one was allowed to enter the room but Pauncefort. They revived her;
+Lord Cadurcis holding her hand, and touching, with a watchful finger,
+her pulse. Venetia opened her eyes, and looked around her. Her
+mind did not wander; she immediately recognised where she was, and
+recollected all that had happened. She faintly smiled, and said, in a
+low voice 'You are all too kind, and I am very weak. After our trials,
+what is this, George?' she added, struggling to appear animated; 'you
+are at length at Cherbury.'
+
+Once more at Cherbury! It was, indeed, an event that recalled a
+thousand associations. In the wild anguish of her first grief, when
+the dreadful intelligence was broken to her, if anyone had whispered
+to Venetia that she would yet find herself once more at Cherbury, she
+would have esteemed the intimation as mockery. But time and hope will
+struggle with the most poignant affliction, and their influence is
+irresistible and inevitable. From her darkened chamber in their
+Mediterranean villa, Venetia had again come forth, and crossed
+mountains, and traversed immense plains, and journeyed through many
+countries. She could not die, as she had supposed at first that she
+must, and therefore she had exerted herself to quit, and to quit
+speedily, a scene so terrible as their late abode. She was the very
+first to propose their return to England, and to that spot where she
+had passed her early life, and where she now wished to fulfil, in
+quiet and seclusion, the allotment of her remaining years; to
+meditate over the marvellous past, and cherish its sweet and bitter
+recollections. The native firmness of Lady Annabel, her long exercised
+control over her emotions, the sadness and subdued tone which the
+early incidents of her career had cast over her character, her
+profound sympathy with her daughter, and that religious consolation
+which never deserted her, had alike impelled and enabled her to bear
+up against the catastrophe with more fortitude than her child. The
+arrow, indeed, had struck Venetia with a double barb. She was the
+victim; and all the cares of Lady Annabel had been directed to soothe
+and support this stricken lamb. Yet perhaps these unhappy women must
+have sunk under their unparalleled calamities, had it not been for the
+devotion of their companion. In the despair of his first emotions,
+George Cadurcis was nearly plunging himself headlong into the wave
+that had already proved so fatal to his house. But when he thought of
+Lady Annabel and Venetia in a foreign land, without a single friend in
+their desolation, and pictured them to himself with the dreadful news
+abruptly communicated by some unfeeling stranger; and called upon,
+in the midst of their overwhelming agony, to attend to all the
+heart-rending arrangements which the discovery of the bodies of the
+beings to whom they were devoted, and in whom all their feelings were
+centred, must necessarily entail upon them, he recoiled from what he
+contemplated as an act of infamous desertion. He resolved to live, if
+only to preserve them from all their impending troubles, and with the
+hope that his exertions might tend, in however slight a degree, not
+to alleviate, for that was impossible; but to prevent the increase
+of that terrible woe, the very conception of which made his brain
+stagger. He carried the bodies, therefore, with him to Spezzia, and
+then prepared for that fatal interview, the commencement of which we
+first indicated. Yet it must be confessed that, though the bravest
+of men, his courage faltered as he entered the accustomed ravine. He
+stopped and looked down on the precipice below; he felt it utterly
+impossible to meet them; his mind nearly deserted him. Death, some
+great and universal catastrophe, an earthquake, a deluge, that would
+have buried them all in an instant and a common fate, would have been
+hailed by George Cadurcis, at that moment, as good fortune.
+
+He lurked about the ravine for nearly three hours before he could
+summon up heart for the awful interview. The position he had taken
+assured him that no one could approach the villa, to which he himself
+dared not advance. At length, in a paroxysm of energetic despair, he
+had rushed forward, met them instantly, and confessed with a whirling
+brain, and almost unconscious of his utterance, that 'they could not
+hope to see them again in this world.'
+
+What ensued must neither be attempted to be described, nor even
+remembered. It was one of those tragedies of life which enfeeble the
+most faithful memories at a blow shatter nerves beyond the faculty of
+revival, cloud the mind for ever, or turn the hair grey in an instant.
+They carried Venetia delirious to her bed. The very despair, and
+almost madness, of her daughter forced Lady Annabel to self-exertion,
+of which it was difficult to suppose that even she was capable. And
+George, too, was obliged to leave them. He stayed only the night. A
+few words passed between Lady Annabel and himself; she wished the
+bodies to be embalmed, and borne to England. There was no time to be
+lost, and there was no one to be entrusted except George. He had to
+hasten to Genoa to make all these preparations, and for two days he
+was absent from the villa. When he returned, Lady Annabel saw him, but
+Venetia was for a long time invisible. The moment she grew composed,
+she expressed a wish to her mother instantly to return to Cherbury.
+All the arrangements necessarily devolved upon George Cadurcis. It
+was his study that Lady Annabel should be troubled upon no point. The
+household were discharged, all the affairs were wound up, the felucca
+hired which was to bear them to Genoa, and in readiness, before he
+notified to them that the hour of departure had arrived. The most
+bitter circumstance was looking again upon the sea. It seemed so
+intolerable to Venetia, that their departure was delayed more than one
+day in consequence; but it was inevitable; they could reach Genoa in
+no other manner. George carried Venetia in his arms to the boat, with
+her face covered with a shawl, and bore her in the same manner to the
+hotel at Genoa, where their travelling carriage awaited them.
+
+They travelled home rapidly. All seemed to be impelled, as it were,
+by a restless desire for repose. Cherbury was the only thought in
+Venetia's mind. She observed nothing; she made no remark during their
+journey; they travelled often throughout the night; but no obstacles
+occurred, no inconveniences. There was one in this miserable society
+whose only object in life was to support Venetia under her terrible
+visitation. Silent, but with an eye that never slept, George Cadurcis
+watched Venetia as a nurse might a child. He read her thoughts, he
+anticipated her wishes without inquiring them; every arrangement was
+unobtrusively made that could possibly consult her comfort.
+
+They passed through London without stopping there. George would not
+leave them for an instant; nor would he spare a thought to his own
+affairs, though they urgently required his attention. The change in
+his position gave him no consolation; he would not allow his passport
+to be made out with his title; he shuddered at being called Lord
+Cadurcis; and the only reason that made him hesitate about attending
+them to Cherbury was its contiguity to his ancestral seat, which he
+resolved never to visit. There never in the world was a less selfish
+and more single-hearted man than George Cadurcis. Though the death of
+his cousin had invested him with one of the most ancient coronets in
+England, a noble residence and a fair estate, he would willingly have
+sacrificed his life to have recalled Plantagenet to existence, and to
+have secured the happiness of Venetia Herbert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+The reader must not suppose, from the irresistible emotion that
+overcame Venetia at the very moment of her return, that she was
+entirely prostrated by her calamities. On the contrary, her mind had
+been employed, during the whole of her journey to England, in a silent
+effort to endure her lot with resignation. She had resolved to bear up
+against her misery with fortitude, and she inherited from her mother
+sufficient firmness of mind to enable her to achieve her purpose. She
+came back to Cherbury to live with patience and submission; and though
+her dreams of happiness might be vanished for ever, to contribute as
+much as was in her power to the content of that dear and remaining
+relative who was yet spared to her, and who depended in this world
+only upon the affection of her child. The return to Cherbury was a
+pang, and it was over. Venetia struggled to avoid the habits of an
+invalid; she purposed resuming, as far as was in her power, all the
+pursuits and duties of her life; and if it were neither possible, nor
+even desirable, to forget the past, she dwelt upon it neither to sigh
+nor to murmur, but to cherish in a sweet and musing mood the ties and
+affections round which all her feelings had once gathered with so much
+enjoyment and so much hope.
+
+She rose, therefore, on the morning after her return to Cherbury, at
+least serene; and she took an early opportunity, when George and her
+mother were engaged, and absent from the terrace-room, to go forth
+alone and wander amid her old haunts. There was not a spot about the
+park and gardens, which had been favourite resorts of herself and
+Plantagenet in their childhood, that she did not visit. They were
+unchanged; as green, and bright, and still as in old days, but what
+was she? The freshness, and brilliancy, and careless happiness of her
+life were fled for ever. And here he lived, and here he roamed, and
+here his voice sounded, now in glee, now in melancholy, now in wild
+and fanciful amusement, and now pouring into her bosom all his
+domestic sorrows. It was but ten years since he first arrived at
+Cherbury, and who could have anticipated that that little, silent,
+reserved boy should, ere ten years had passed, have filled a wide and
+lofty space in the world's thought; that his existence should have
+influenced the mind of nations, and his death eclipsed their gaiety!
+His death! Terrible and disheartening thought! Plantagenet was no
+more. But he had not died without a record. His memory was embalmed
+in immortal verse, and he had breathed his passion to his Venetia in
+language that lingered in the ear, and would dwell for ever on the
+lips, of his fellow-men.
+
+Among these woods, too, had Venetia first mused over her father;
+before her rose those mysterious chambers, whose secret she had
+penetrated at the risk of her life. There were no secrets now. Was
+she happier? Now she felt that even in her early mystery there was
+delight, and that hope was veiled beneath its ominous shadow. There
+was now no future to ponder over; her hope was gone, and memory alone
+remained. All the dreams of those musing hours of her hidden reveries
+had been realised. She had seen that father, that surpassing parent,
+who had satisfied alike her heart and her imagination; she had been
+clasped to his bosom; she had lived to witness even her mother yield
+to his penitent embrace. And he too was gone; she could never meet him
+again in this world; in this world in which they had experienced such
+exquisite bliss; and now she was once more at Cherbury! Oh! give her
+back her girlhood, with all its painful mystery and harassing doubt!
+Give her again a future!
+
+She returned to the hall; she met George on the terrace, she welcomed
+him with a sweet, yet mournful smile. 'I have been very selfish,'
+she said, 'for I have been walking alone. I mean to introduce you to
+Cherbury, but I could not resist visiting some old spots.' Her voice
+faltered in these last words. They re-entered the terrace-room
+together, and joined her mother.
+
+'Nothing is changed, mamma,' said Venetia, in a more cheerful tone.
+'It is pleasant to find something that is the same.'
+
+Several days passed, and Lord Cadurcis evinced no desire to visit his
+inheritance. Yet Lady Annabel was anxious that he should do so, and
+had more than once impressed upon him the propriety. Even Venetia
+at length said to him, 'It is very selfish in us keeping you here,
+George. Your presence is a great consolation, and yet, yet, ought you
+not to visit your home?' She avoided the name of Cadurcis.
+
+'I ought, dear Venetia.' said George, 'and I will. I have promised
+Lady Annabel twenty times, but I feel a terrible disinclination.
+To-morrow, perhaps.'
+
+'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,' murmured Venetia to
+herself, 'I scarcely comprehend now what to-morrow means.' And then
+again addressing him, and with more liveliness, she said, 'We have
+only one friend in the world now, George, and I think that we ought to
+be very grateful that he is our neighbour.'
+
+'It is a consolation to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'for I cannot remain
+here, and otherwise I should scarcely know how to depart.'
+
+'I wish you would visit your home, if only for one morning,' said
+Venetia; 'if only to know how very near you are to us.'
+
+'I dread going alone,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'I cannot ask Lady Annabel
+to accompany me, because--' He hesitated.
+
+'Because?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'I cannot ask or wish her to leave you.'
+
+'You are always thinking of me, dear George,' said Venetia, artlessly.
+'I assure you, I have come back to Cherbury to be happy. I must visit
+your home some day, and I hope I shall visit it often. We will all go,
+soon,' she added.
+
+'Then I will postpone my visit to that day,' said George. 'I am in
+no humour for business, which I know awaits me there. Let me enjoy a
+little more repose at dear Cherbury.'
+
+'I have become very restless of late, I think,' said Venetia, 'but
+there is a particular spot in the garden that I wish to see. Come with
+me, George.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis was only too happy to attend her. They proceeded through
+a winding walk in the shrubberies until they arrived at a small
+and open plot of turf, where Venetia stopped. 'There are some
+associations,' she said, 'of this spot connected with both those
+friends that we have lost. I have a fancy that it should be in some
+visible manner consecrated to their memories. On this spot, George,
+Plantagenet once spoke to me of my father. I should like to raise
+their busts here; and indeed it is a fit place for such a purpose;
+for poets,' she added, faintly smiling, 'should be surrounded with
+laurels.'
+
+'I have some thoughts on this head that I am revolving in my fancy
+myself,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'but I will not speak of them now.'
+
+'Yes, now, George; for indeed it is a satisfaction for me to speak of
+them, at least with you, with one who understood them so well, and
+loved them scarcely less than I did.'
+
+George tenderly put his arm into hers and led her away. As they walked
+along, he explained to her his plans, which yet were somewhat crude,
+but which greatly interested her; but they were roused from their
+conversation by the bell of the hall sounding as if to summon them,
+and therefore they directed their way immediately to the terrace. A
+servant running met them; he brought a message from Lady Annabel.
+Their friend the Bishop of ---- had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, my little daughter,' said the good Masham, advancing as Venetia
+entered the room, and tenderly embracing her. The kind-hearted old man
+maintained a conversation on indifferent subjects with animation for
+some minutes; and thus a meeting, the anticipation of which would have
+cost Venetia hours of pain and anxiety, occurred with less uneasy
+feelings.
+
+Masham had hastened to Cherbury the moment he heard of the return of
+the Herberts to England. He did not come to console, but to enliven.
+He was well aware that even his eloquence, and all the influence of
+his piety, could not soften the irreparable past; and knowing, from
+experience, how in solitude the unhappy brood over sorrow, he fancied
+that his arrival, and perhaps his arrival only, might tend in some
+degree at this moment to their alleviation and comfort. He brought
+Lady Annabel and Venetia letters from their relations, with whom he
+had been staying at their country residence, and who were anxious that
+their unhappy kinsfolk should find change of scene under their roof.
+
+'They are very affectionate,' said Lady Annabel, 'but I rather think
+that neither Venetia nor myself feel inclined to quit Cherbury at
+present.'
+
+'Indeed not, mamma,' said Venetia. 'I hope we shall never leave home
+again.'
+
+'You must come and see me some day,' said the Bishop; then turning to
+George, whom he was glad to find here, he addressed him in a hearty
+tone, and expressed his delight at again meeting him.
+
+Insensibly to all parties this arrival of the good Masham exercised a
+beneficial influence on their spirits. They could sympathise with his
+cheerfulness, because they were convinced that he sympathised with
+their sorrow. His interesting conversation withdrew their minds from
+the painful subject on which they were always musing. It seemed
+profanation to either of the three mourners when they were together
+alone, to indulge in any topic but the absorbing one, and their utmost
+effort was to speak of the past with composure; but they all felt
+relieved, though at first unconsciously, when one, whose interest in
+their feelings could not be doubted, gave the signal of withdrawing
+their reflections from vicissitudes which it was useless to deplore.
+Even the social forms which the presence of a guest rendered
+indispensable, and the exercise of the courtesies of hospitality,
+contributed to this result. They withdrew their minds from the past.
+And the worthy Bishop, whose tact was as eminent as his good humour
+and benevolence, evincing as much delicacy of feeling as cheerfulness
+of temper, a very few days had elapsed before each of his companions
+was aware that his presence had contributed to their increased
+content.
+
+'You have not been to the abbey yet, Lord Cadurcis,' said Masham to
+him one day, as they were sitting together after dinner, the ladies
+having retired. 'You should go.'
+
+'I have been unwilling to leave them,' said George, 'and I could
+scarcely expect them to accompany me. It is a visit that must revive
+painful recollections.'
+
+'We must not dwell on the past,' said Masham; 'we must think only of
+the future.'
+
+'Venetia has no future, I fear,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Why not?' said Masham; 'she is yet a girl, and with a prospect of a
+long life. She must have a future, and I hope, and I believe, it will
+yet be a happy one.'
+
+'Alas!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'no one can form an idea of the attachment
+that subsisted between Plantagenet and Venetia. They were not common
+feelings, or the feelings of common minds, my dear lord.'
+
+'No one knew them both better than I did,' said Masham, 'not even
+yourself: they were my children.'
+
+'I feel that,' said George, 'and therefore it is a pleasure to us all
+to see you, and to speak with you.'
+
+'But we must look for consolation,' said Masham; 'to deplore is
+fruitless. If we live, we must struggle to live happily. To tell you
+the truth, though their immediate return to Cherbury was inevitable,
+and their residence here for a time is scarcely to be deprecated, I
+still hope they will not bury themselves here. For my part, after the
+necessary interval, I wish to see Venetia once more in the world.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis looked very mournful, and shook his head.
+
+'As for her dear mother, she is habituated to sorrow and
+disappointment,' said Masham. 'As long as Venetia lives Lady Annabel
+will be content. Besides, deplorable as may be the past, there must be
+solace to her in the reflection that she was reconciled to her husband
+before his death, and contributed to his happiness. Venetia is the
+stricken lamb, but Venetia is formed for happiness, and it is in the
+nature of things that she will be happy. We must not, however, yield
+unnecessarily to our feelings. A violent exertion would be unwise, but
+we should habituate ourselves gradually to the exercise of our duties,
+and to our accustomed pursuits. It would be well for you to go to
+Cadurcis. If I were you I would go to-morrow. Take advantage of my
+presence, and return and give a report of your visit. Habituate
+Venetia to talk of a spot with which ultimately she must renew her
+intimacy.'
+
+Influenced by this advice, Lord Cadurcis rose early on the next
+morning and repaired to the seat of his fathers, where hitherto his
+foot had never trod. When the circle at Cherbury assembled at their
+breakfast table he was missing, and Masham had undertaken the office
+of apprising his friends of the cause of his absence. He returned to
+dinner, and the conversation fell naturally upon the abbey, and the
+impressions he had received. It was maintained at first by Lady
+Annabel and the Bishop, but Venetia ultimately joined in it, and with
+cheerfulness. Many a trait and incident of former days was alluded to;
+they talked of Mrs. Cadurcis, whom George had never seen; they settled
+the chambers he should inhabit; they mentioned the improvements
+which Plantagenet had once contemplated, and which George must now
+accomplish.
+
+'You must go to London first,' said the Bishop; 'you have a great deal
+to do, and you should not delay such business. I think you had better
+return with me. At this time of the year you need not be long absent;
+you will not be detained; and when you return, you will find yourself
+much more at ease; for, after all, nothing is more harassing than the
+feeling, that there is business which must be attended to, and which,
+nevertheless, is neglected.'
+
+Both Lady Annabel and Venetia enforced this advice of their friend;
+and so it happened that, ere a week had elapsed, Lord Cadurcis,
+accompanying Masham, found himself once more in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Venetia was now once more alone with her mother; it was as in old
+times. Their life was the same as before the visit of Plantagenet
+previous to his going to Cambridge, except indeed that they had no
+longer a friend at Marringhurst. They missed the Sabbath visits of
+that good man; for, though his successor performed the duties of the
+day, which had been a condition when he was presented to the living,
+the friend who knew all the secrets of their hearts was absent.
+Venetia continued to bear herself with great equanimity, and the
+anxiety which she observed instantly impressed on her mother's
+countenance, the moment she fancied there was unusual gloom on the
+brow of her child, impelled Venetia doubly to exert herself to appear
+resigned. And in truth, when Lady Annabel revolved in her mind the
+mournful past, and meditated over her early and unceasing efforts
+to secure the happiness of her daughter, and then contrasted her
+aspirations with the result, she could not acquit herself of having
+been too often unconsciously instrumental in forwarding a very
+different conclusion than that for which she had laboured. This
+conviction preyed upon the mother, and the slightest evidence of
+reaction in Venetia's tranquilised demeanour occasioned her the utmost
+remorse and grief. The absence of George made both Lady Annabel and
+Venetia still more finely appreciate the solace of his society. Left
+to themselves, they felt how much they had depended on his vigilant
+and considerate attention, and how much his sweet temper and his
+unfailing sympathy had contributed to their consolation. He wrote,
+however, to Venetia by every post, and his letters, if possible,
+endeared him still more to their hearts. Unwilling to dwell upon
+their mutual sorrows, yet always expressing sufficient to prove that
+distance and absence had not impaired his sympathy, he contrived, with
+infinite delicacy, even to amuse their solitude with the adventures of
+his life of bustle. The arrival of the post was the incident of the
+day; and not merely letters arrived; one day brought books, another
+music; continually some fresh token of his thought and affection
+reached them. He was, however, only a fortnight absent; but when he
+returned, it was to Cadurcis. He called upon them the next day, and
+indeed every morning found him at Cherbury; but he returned to his
+home at night; and so, without an effort, from their guest he had
+become their neighbour.
+
+Plantagenet had left the whole of his property to his cousin: his
+mother's fortune, which, as an accessory fund, was not inconsiderable,
+besides the estate. And George intended to devote a portion of this to
+the restoration of the abbey. Venetia was to be his counsellor in this
+operation, and therefore there were ample sources of amusement for the
+remainder of the year. On a high ridge, which was one of the beacons
+of the county, and which, moreover, marked the junction of the domains
+of Cherbury and Cadurcis, it was his intention to raise a monument to
+the united memories of Marmion Herbert and Plantagenet Lord Cadurcis.
+He brought down a design with him from London, and this was the
+project which he had previously whispered to Venetia. With George for
+her companion, too, Venetia was induced to resume her rides. It was
+her part to make him acquainted with the county in which he was so
+important a resident. Time therefore, at Cherbury, on the whole,
+flowed on in a tide of tranquil pleasure; and Lady Annabel observed,
+with interest and fondness, the continual presence beneath her roof
+of one who, from the first day she had met him, had engaged her kind
+feelings, and had since become intimately endeared to her.
+
+The end of November was, however, now approaching, and Parliament
+was about to reassemble. Masham had written more than once to Lord
+Cadurcis, impressing upon him the propriety and expediency of taking
+his seat. He had shown these letters, as he showed everything, to
+Venetia, who was his counsellor on all subjects, and Venetia agreed
+with their friend.
+
+'It is right,' said Venetia; 'you have a duty to perform, and you must
+perform it. Besides, I do not wish the name of Cadurcis to sink again
+into obscurity. I shall look forward with interest to Lord Cadurcis
+taking the oaths and his seat. It will please me; it will indeed.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said George, 'I do not like to leave this place. I am
+happy, if we may be happy. This life suits me. I am a quiet man. I
+dislike London. I feel alone there.'
+
+'You can write to us; you will have a great deal to say. And I shall
+have something to say to you now. I must give you a continual report
+how they go on at the abbey. I will be your steward, and superintend
+everything.'
+
+'Ah!' said George, 'what shall I do in London without you, without
+your advice? There will be something occurring every day, and I shall
+have no one to consult. Indeed I shall feel quite miserable; I shall
+indeed.'
+
+'It is quite impossible that, with your station, and at your time of
+life, you should bury yourself in the country,' said Venetia. 'You
+have the whole world before you, and you must enjoy it. It is very
+well for mamma and myself to lead this life. I look upon ourselves as
+two nuns. If Cadurcis is an abbey, Cherbury is now a convent.'
+
+'How can a man wish to be more than happy? I am quite content here,'
+said George, 'What is London to me?'
+
+'It may be a great deal to you, more than you think,' said Venetia. 'A
+great deal awaits you yet. However, there can be no doubt you should
+take your seat. You can always return, if you wish. But take your
+seat, and cultivate dear Masham. I have the utmost confidence in his
+wisdom and goodness. You cannot have a friend more respectable. Now
+mind my advice, George.'
+
+'I always do, Venetia.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Time and Faith are the great consolers, and neither of these precious
+sources of solace were wanting to the inhabitants of Cherbury. They
+were again living alone, but their lives were cheerful; and if Venetia
+no longer indulged in a worldly and blissful future, nevertheless, in
+the society of her mother, in the resources of art and literature, in
+the diligent discharge of her duties to her humble neighbours, and in
+cherishing the memory of the departed, she experienced a life that was
+not without its tranquil pleasures. She maintained with Lord Cadurcis
+a constant correspondence; he wrote to her every day, and although
+they were separated, there was not an incident of his life, and
+scarcely a thought, of which she was not cognisant. It was with great
+difficulty that George could induce himself to remain in London; but
+Masham, who soon obtained over him all the influence which Venetia
+desired, ever opposed his return to the abbey. The good Bishop was not
+unaware of the feelings with which Lord Cadurcis looked back to the
+hall of Cherbury, and himself of a glad and sanguine temperament, he
+indulged in a belief in the consummation of all that happiness for
+which his young friend, rather sceptically, sighed. But Masham was
+aware that time could alone soften the bitterness of Venetia's sorrow,
+and prepare her for that change of life which he felt confident
+would alone ensure the happiness both of herself and her mother. He
+therefore detained Lord Cadurcis in London the whole of the sessions
+that, on his return to Cherbury, his society might be esteemed a novel
+and agreeable incident in the existence of its inhabitants, and not be
+associated merely with their calamities.
+
+It was therefore about a year after the catastrophe which had so
+suddenly changed the whole tenor of their lives, and occasioned so
+unexpected a revolution in his own position, that Lord Cadurcis
+arrived at his ancestral seat, with no intention of again speedily
+leaving it. He had long and frequently apprised his friends of his
+approaching presence, And, arriving at the abbey late at night, he was
+at Cherbury early on the following morning.
+
+Although no inconsiderable interval had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis
+had parted from the Herberts, the continual correspondence that had
+been maintained between himself and Venetia, divested his visit of the
+slightest embarrassment. They met as if they had parted yesterday,
+except perhaps with greater fondness. The chain of their feelings
+was unbroken. He was indeed welcomed, both by Lady Annabel and her
+daughter, with warm affection; and his absence had only rendered him
+dearer to them by affording an opportunity of feeling how much his
+society contributed to their felicity. Venetia was anxious to know his
+opinion of the improvements at the abbey, which she had superintended;
+but he assured her that he would examine nothing without her company,
+and ultimately they agreed to walk over to Cadurcis.
+
+It was a summer day, and they walked through that very wood wherein
+we described the journey of the child Venetia, at the commencement
+of this very history. The blue patches of wild hyacinths had all
+disappeared, but there were flowers as sweet. What if the first
+feelings of our heart fade, like the first flowers of spring,
+succeeding years, like the coming summer, may bring emotions not less
+charming, and, perchance, far more fervent!
+
+'I can scarcely believe,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I am once more
+with you. I know not what surprises me most, Venetia, that we should
+be walking once more together in the woods of Cherbury, or that I ever
+should have dared to quit them.'
+
+'And yet it was better, dear George,' said Venetia. 'You must now
+rejoice that you have fulfilled your duty, and yet you are here again.
+Besides, the abbey never would have been finished if you had remained.
+To complete all our plans, it required a mistress.'
+
+'I wish it always had one,' said George. 'Ah, Venetia! once you told
+me never to despair.'
+
+'And what have you to despair about, George?'
+
+'Heigh ho!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I never shall be able to live in this
+abbey alone.'
+
+'You should have brought a wife from London,' said Venetia.
+
+'I told you once, Venetia, that I was not a marrying man,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and certainly I never shall bring a wife from London.'
+
+'Then you cannot accustom yourself too soon to a bachelor's life,'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' said George, 'I wish I were clever; I wish I were a
+genius; I wish I were a great man.'
+
+'Why, George?'
+
+'Because, Venetia, perhaps,' and Lord Cadurcis hesitated, 'perhaps you
+would think differently of me? I mean perhaps your feelings towards me
+might; ah, Venetia! perhaps you might think me worthy of you; perhaps
+you might love me.'
+
+'I am sure, dear George, if I did not love you, I should be the most
+ungrateful of beings: you are our only friend.'
+
+'And can I never be more than a friend to you, Venetia?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, blushing very deeply.
+
+'I am sure, dear George, I should be very sorry for your sake, if you
+wished to be more,' said Venetia.
+
+'Why?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Because I should not like to see you unite your destiny with that of
+a very unfortunate, if not a very unhappy, person.'
+
+'The sweetest, the loveliest of women!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'O
+Venetia! I dare not express what I feel, still less what I could hope.
+I think so little of myself, so highly of you, that I am convinced my
+aspirations are too arrogant for me to breathe them.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you deserve to be happy,' said Venetia. 'Would that
+it were in my power to make you!'
+
+'Dearest Venetia! it is, it is,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis; then
+checking himself, as if frightened by his boldness, he added in a more
+subdued tone, 'I feel I am not worthy of you.'
+
+They stood upon the breezy down that divided the demesnes of Cherbury
+and the abbey. Beneath them rose, 'embosomed in a valley of green
+bowers,' the ancient pile lately renovated under the studious care of
+Venetia.
+
+'Ah!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'be not less kind to the master of these
+towers, than to the roof that you have fostered. You have renovated
+our halls, restore our happiness! There is an union that will bring
+consolation to more than one hearth, and baffle all the crosses of
+adverse fate. Venetia, beautiful and noble-minded Venetia, condescend
+to fulfil it!'
+
+Perhaps the reader will not be surprised that, within a few months of
+this morning walk, the hands of George, Lord Cadurcis, and Venetia
+Herbert were joined in the chapel at Cherbury by the good Masham.
+Peace be with them.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENETIA***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 11869-8.txt or 11869-8.zip *******
+
+
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/8/6/11869
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Venetia, by Benjamin Disraeli
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Venetia
+
+Author: Benjamin Disraeli
+
+Release Date: April 2, 2004  [eBook #11869]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VENETIA***
+
+
+E-text prepared by the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team
+
+
+
+VENETIA
+
+BY THE EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, K.G.
+
+1905
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  'Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child?'
+
+  'The child of love, though born in bitterness
+  And nurtured in convulsion.'
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+LORD LYNDHURST.
+
+In happier hours, when I first mentioned to you the idea of this Work,
+it was my intention, while inscribing it with your name, to have
+entered into some details as to the principles which had guided me in
+its composition, and the feelings with which I had attempted to shadow
+forth, though as 'in in a glass darkly,' two of the most renowned and
+refined spirits that have adorned these our latter days. But now I
+will only express a hope that the time may come when, in these pages,
+you may find some relaxation from the cares, and some distraction
+from the sorrows, of existence, and that you will then receive this
+dedication as a record of my respect and my affection.
+
+This Work was first published in the year 1837.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Some ten years before the revolt of our American colonies, there was
+situate in one of our midland counties, on the borders of an extensive
+forest, an ancient hall that belonged to the Herberts, but which,
+though ever well preserved, had not until that period been visited by
+any member of the family, since the exile of the Stuarts. It was an
+edifice of considerable size, built of grey stone, much covered with
+ivy, and placed upon the last gentle elevation of a long ridge of
+hills, in the centre of a crescent of woods, that far overtopped its
+clusters of tall chimneys and turreted gables. Although the principal
+chambers were on the first story, you could nevertheless step forth
+from their windows on a broad terrace, whence you descended into the
+gardens by a double flight of stone steps, exactly in the middle
+of its length. These gardens were of some extent, and filled with
+evergreen shrubberies of remarkable overgrowth, while occasionally
+turfy vistas, cut in the distant woods, came sloping down to the
+south, as if they opened to receive the sunbeam that greeted the
+genial aspect of the mansion, The ground-floor was principally
+occupied by the hall itself, which was of great dimensions, hung round
+with many a family portrait and rural picture, furnished with long
+oaken seats covered with scarlet cushions, and ornamented with a
+parti-coloured floor of alternate diamonds of black and white marble.
+From the centre of the roof of the mansion, which was always covered
+with pigeons, rose the clock-tower of the chapel, surmounted by a
+vane; and before the mansion itself was a large plot of grass, with a
+fountain in the centre, surrounded by a hedge of honeysuckle.
+
+This plot of grass was separated from an extensive park, that opened
+in front of the hall, by tall iron gates, on each of the pillars of
+which was a lion rampant supporting the escutcheon of the family. The
+deer wandered in this enclosed and well-wooded demesne, and about a
+mile from the mansion, in a direct line with the iron gates, was an
+old-fashioned lodge, which marked the limit of the park, and from
+which you emerged into a fine avenue of limes bounded on both sides
+by fields. At the termination of this avenue was a strong but simple
+gate, and a woodman's cottage; and then spread before you a vast
+landscape of open, wild lands, which seemed on one side interminable,
+while on the other the eye rested on the dark heights of the
+neighbouring forest.
+
+This picturesque and secluded abode was the residence of Lady Annabel
+Herbert and her daughter, the young and beautiful Venetia, a child, at
+the time when our history commences, of very tender age. It was nearly
+seven years since Lady Annabel and her infant daughter had sought the
+retired shades of Cherbury, which they had never since quitted. They
+lived alone and for each other; the mother educated her child, and
+the child interested her mother by her affectionate disposition,
+the development of a mind of no ordinary promise, and a sort of
+captivating grace and charming playfulness of temper, which were
+extremely delightful. Lady Annabel was still young and lovely. That
+she was wealthy her establishment clearly denoted, and she was a
+daughter of one of the haughtiest houses in the kingdom. It was
+strange then that, with all the brilliant accidents of birth, and
+beauty, and fortune, she should still, as it were in the morning of
+her life, have withdrawn to this secluded mansion, in a county where
+she was personally unknown, distant from the metropolis, estranged
+from all her own relatives and connexions, and without resource of
+even a single neighbour, for the only place of importance in her
+vicinity was uninhabited. The general impression of the villagers was
+that Lady Annabel was a widow; and yet there were some speculators
+who would shrewdly remark, that her ladyship had never worn weeds,
+although her husband could not have been long dead when she first
+arrived at Cherbury. On the whole, however, these good people were not
+very inquisitive; and it was fortunate for them, for there was little
+chance and slight means of gratifying their curiosity. The whole of
+the establishment had been formed at Cherbury, with the exception of
+her ladyship's waiting-woman, Mistress Pauncefort, and she was by far
+too great a personage to condescend to reply to any question which was
+not made to her by Lady Annabel herself.
+
+The beauty of the young Venetia was not the hereditary gift of her
+beautiful mother. It was not from Lady Annabel that Venetia Herbert
+had derived those seraphic locks that fell over her shoulders and
+down her neck in golden streams, nor that clear grey eye even, whose
+childish glance might perplex the gaze of manhood, nor that little
+aquiline nose, that gave a haughty expression to a countenance that
+had never yet dreamed of pride, nor that radiant complexion, that
+dazzled with its brilliancy, like some winged minister of Raffael or
+Correggio. The peasants that passed the lady and her daughter in their
+walks, and who blessed her as they passed, for all her grace and
+goodness, often marvelled why so fair a mother and so fair a child
+should be so dissimilar, that one indeed might be compared to a starry
+night, and the other to a sunny day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+It was a bright and soft spring morning: the dewy vistas of Cherbury
+sparkled in the sun, the cooing of the pigeons sounded around, the
+peacocks strutted about the terrace and spread their tails with
+infinite enjoyment and conscious pride, and Lady Annabel came forth
+with her little daughter, to breathe the renovating odours of the
+season. The air was scented with the violet, tufts of daffodils were
+scattered all about, and though the snowdrop had vanished, and the
+primroses were fast disappearing, their wild and shaggy leaves still
+looked picturesque and glad.
+
+'Mamma,' said the little Venetia, 'is this spring?'
+
+'This is spring, my child,' replied Lady Annabel, 'beautiful spring!
+The year is young and happy, like my little girl.'
+
+'If Venetia be like the spring, mamma is like the summer!' replied the
+child; and the mother smiled. 'And is not the summer young and happy?'
+resumed Venetia.
+
+'It is not quite so young as the spring,' said Lady Annabel, looking
+down with fondness on her little companion, 'and, I fear, not quite so
+happy.'
+
+'But it is as beautiful,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is not beauty that makes us happy,' said Lady Annabel; 'to be
+happy, my love, we must be good.'
+
+'Am I good?' said Venetia.
+
+'Very good,' said Lady Annabel
+
+'I am very happy,' said Venetia; 'I wonder whether, if I be always
+good, I shall always be happy?'
+
+'You cannot be happy without being good, my love; but happiness
+depends upon the will of God. If you be good he will guard over you.'
+
+'What can make me unhappy, mamma?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'An evil conscience, my love.'
+
+'Conscience!' said Venetia: 'what is conscience?'
+
+'You are not yet quite old enough to understand,' said Lady Annabel,
+'but some day I will teach you. Mamma is now going to take a long
+walk, and Venetia shall walk with her.'
+
+So saying, the Lady Annabel summoned Mistress Pauncefort, a
+gentlewoman of not more discreet years than might have been expected
+in the attendant of so young a mistress; but one well qualified for
+her office, very zealous and devoted, somewhat consequential, full of
+energy and decision, capable of directing, fond of giving advice, and
+habituated to command. The Lady Annabel, leading her daughter, and
+accompanied by her faithful bloodhound, Marmion, ascended one of those
+sloping vistas that we have noticed, Mistress Pauncefort following
+them about a pace behind, and after her a groom, at a respectful
+distance, leading Miss Herbert's donkey.
+
+They soon entered a winding path through the wood which was the
+background of their dwelling. Lady Annabel was silent, and lost in her
+reflections; Venetia plucked the beautiful wild hyacinths that then
+abounded in the wood in such profusion, that their beds spread like
+patches of blue enamel, and gave them to Mistress Pauncefort, who, as
+the collection increased, handed them over to the groom; who, in turn,
+deposited them in the wicker seat prepared for his young mistress. The
+bright sun bursting through the tender foliage of the year, the clear
+and genial air, the singing of the birds, and the wild and joyous
+exclamations of Venetia, as she gathered her flowers, made it a
+cheerful party, notwithstanding the silence of its mistress.
+
+When they emerged from the wood, they found themselves on the brow
+of the hill, a small down, over which Venetia ran, exulting in the
+healthy breeze which, at this exposed height, was strong and fresh.
+As they advanced to the opposite declivity to that which they had
+ascended, a wide and peculiar landscape opened before them. The
+extreme distance was formed by an undulating ridge of lofty and savage
+hills; nearer than these were gentler elevations, partially wooded;
+and at their base was a rich valley, its green meads fed by a clear
+and rapid stream, which glittered in the sun as it coursed on, losing
+itself at length in a wild and sedgy lake that formed the furthest
+limit of a widely-spreading park. In the centre of this park, and
+not very remote from the banks of the rivulet, was an ancient gothic
+building, that had once been an abbey of great repute and wealth, and
+had not much suffered in its external character, by having served for
+nearly two centuries and a half as the principal dwelling of an old
+baronial family.
+
+Descending the downy hill, that here and there was studded with fine
+old trees, enriching by their presence the view from the abbey, Lady
+Annabel and her party entered the meads, and, skirting the lake,
+approached the venerable walls without crossing the stream.
+
+It was difficult to conceive a scene more silent and more desolate.
+There was no sign of life, and not a sound save the occasional
+cawing of a rook. Advancing towards the abbey, they passed a pile of
+buildings that, in the summer, might be screened from sight by the
+foliage of a group of elms, too scanty at present to veil their
+desolation. Wide gaps in the roof proved that the vast and dreary
+stables were no longer used; there were empty granaries, whose doors
+had fallen from their hinges; the gate of the courtyard was prostrate
+on the ground; and the silent clock that once adorned the cupola over
+the noble entrance arch, had long lost its index. Even the litter of
+the yard appeared dusty and grey with age. You felt sure no human foot
+could have disturbed it for years. At the back of these buildings were
+nailed the trophies of the gamekeeper: hundreds of wild cats, dried to
+blackness, stretched their downward heads and legs from the mouldering
+wall; hawks, magpies, and jays hung in tattered remnants! but all
+grey, and even green, with age; and the heads of birds in plenteous
+rows, nailed beak upward, and so dried and shrivelled by the suns and
+winds and frosts of many seasons, that their distinctive characters
+were lost.
+
+'Do you know, my good Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'that I have
+an odd fancy to-day to force an entrance into the old abbey. It is
+strange, fond as I am of this walk, that we have never yet entered it.
+Do you recollect our last vain efforts? Shall we be more fortunate
+this time, think you?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort smiled and smirked, and, advancing to the old
+gloomy porch, gave a determined ring at the bell. Its sound might
+be heard echoing through the old cloisters, but a considerable time
+elapsed without any other effect being produced. Perhaps Lady Annabel
+would have now given up the attempt, but the little Venetia expressed
+so much regret at the disappointment, that her mother directed the
+groom to reconnoitre in the neighbourhood, and see if it were possible
+to discover any person connected with the mansion.
+
+'I doubt our luck, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'for they do
+say that the abbey is quite uninhabited.'
+
+''Tis a pity,' said Lady Annabel, 'for, with all its desolation, there
+is something about this spot which ever greatly interests me.'
+
+'Mamma, why does no one live here?' said Venetia.
+
+'The master of the abbey lives abroad, my child.'
+
+'Why does he, mamma?'
+
+'Never ask questions, Miss Venetia,' said Mistress Pauncefort, in a
+hushed and solemn tone; 'it is not pretty.' Lady Annabel had moved
+away.
+
+The groom returned, and said he had met an old man, picking
+water-cresses, and he was the only person who lived in the abbey,
+except his wife, and she was bedridden. The old man had promised to
+admit them when he had completed his task, but not before, and the
+groom feared it would be some time before he arrived.
+
+'Come, Pauncefort, rest yourself on this bench,' said Lady Annabel,
+seating herself in the porch; 'and Venetia, my child, come hither to
+me.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'what is the name of the gentleman to whom this
+abbey belongs?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, love.'
+
+'I should like to know why Lord Cadurcis lives abroad?' said Venetia,
+musingly.
+
+'There are many reasons why persons may choose to quit their native
+country, and dwell in another, my love,' said Lady Annabel, very
+quietly; 'some change the climate for their health.'
+
+'Did Lord Cadurcis, mamma?' asked Venetia.
+
+'I do not know Lord Cadurcis, dear, or anything of him, except that he
+is a very old man, and has no family.'
+
+At this moment there was a sound of bars and bolts withdrawn, and the
+falling of a chain, and at length the massy door slowly opened, and
+the old man appeared and beckoned to them to enter.
+
+''Tis eight years, come Martinmas, since I opened this door,' said the
+old man, 'and it sticks a bit. You must walk about by yourselves, for
+I have no breath, and my mistress is bedridden. There, straight down
+the cloister, you can't miss your way; there is not much to see.'
+
+The interior of the abbey formed a quadrangle, surrounded by the
+cloisters, and in this inner court was a curious fountain, carved with
+exquisite skill by some gothic artist in one of those capricious moods
+of sportive invention that produced those grotesque medleys for which
+the feudal sculptor was celebrated. Not a sound was heard except the
+fall of the fountain and the light echoes that its voice called up.
+
+The staircase led Lady Annabel and her party through several small
+rooms, scantily garnished with ancient furniture, in some of which
+were portraits of the family, until they at length entered a noble
+saloon, once the refectory of the abbey, and not deficient in
+splendour, though sadly soiled and worm-eaten. It was hung with
+tapestry representing the Cartoons of Raffael, and their still vivid
+colours contrasted with the faded hangings and the dingy damask of the
+chairs and sofas. A mass of Cromwellian armour was huddled together in
+a corner of a long monkish gallery, with a standard, encrusted with
+dust, and a couple of old drums, one broken. From one of the windows
+they had a good view of the old walled garden, which did not
+tempt them to enter it; it was a wilderness, the walks no longer
+distinguishable from the rank vegetation of the once cultivated lawns;
+the terraces choked up with the unchecked shrubberies; and here and
+there a leaden statue, a goddess or a satyr, prostrate, and covered
+with moss and lichen.
+
+'It makes me melancholy,' said Lady Annabel; 'let us return.'
+
+'Mamma,' said Venetia, 'are there any ghosts in this abbey?'
+
+'You may well ask me, love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'it seems a
+spell-bound place. But, Venetia, I have often told you there are no
+such things as ghosts.'
+
+'Is it naughty to believe in ghosts, mamma, for I cannot help
+believing in them?'
+
+'When you are older, and have more knowledge, you will not believe in
+them, Venetia,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+Our friends left Cadurcis Abbey. Venetia mounted her donkey, her
+mother walked by her side; the sun was beginning to decline when they
+again reached Cherbury, and the air was brisk. Lady Annabel was glad
+to find herself by her fireside in her little terrace-room, and
+Venetia fetching her book, read to her mother until their dinner hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Two serene and innocent years had glided away at Cherbury since this
+morning ramble to Cadurcis Abbey, and Venetia had grown in loveliness,
+in goodness, and intelligence. Her lively and somewhat precocious mind
+had become greatly developed; and, though she was only nine years of
+age, it scarcely needed the affection of a mother to find in her an
+interesting and engaging companion. Although feminine education was
+little regarded in those days, that of Lady Annabel had been an
+exception to the general practice of society. She had been brought
+up with the consciousness of other objects of female attainment and
+accomplishment than embroidery, 'the complete art of making pastry,'
+and reading 'The Whole Duty of Man.' She had profited, when a child,
+by the guidance of her brother's tutor, who had bestowed no unfruitful
+pains upon no ordinary capacity. She was a good linguist, a fine
+musician, was well read in our elder poets and their Italian
+originals, was no unskilful artist, and had acquired some knowledge
+of botany when wandering, as a girl, in her native woods. Since her
+retirement to Cherbury, reading had been her chief resource. The hall
+contained a library whose shelves, indeed, were more full than choice;
+but, amid folios of theological controversy and civil law, there might
+be found the first editions of most of the celebrated writers of the
+reign of Anne, which the contemporary proprietor of Cherbury, a man of
+wit and fashion in his day, had duly collected in his yearly visits to
+the metropolis, and finally deposited in the family book-room.
+
+The education of her daughter was not only the principal duty of Lady
+Annabel, but her chief delight. To cultivate the nascent intelligence
+of a child, in those days, was not the mere piece of scientific
+mechanism that the admirable labours of so many ingenious writers have
+since permitted it comparatively to become. In those days there was no
+Mrs. Barbauld, no Madame de Genlis, no Miss Edgeworth; no 'Evenings at
+Home,' no 'Children's Friend,' no 'Parent's Assistant.' Venetia loved
+her book; indeed, she was never happier than when reading; but she
+soon recoiled from the gilt and Lilliputian volumes of the good Mr.
+Newbury, and her mind required some more substantial excitement than
+'Tom Thumb,' or even 'Goody Two-Shoes.' 'The Seven Champions' was
+a great resource and a great favourite; but it required all the
+vigilance of a mother to eradicate the false impressions which such
+studies were continually making on so tender a student; and to
+disenchant, by rational discussion, the fascinated imagination of her
+child. Lady Annabel endeavoured to find some substitute in the essays
+of Addison and Steele; but they required more knowledge of the
+every-day world for their enjoyment than an infant, bred in such
+seclusion, could at present afford; and at last Venetia lost herself
+in the wildering pages of Clelia and the Arcadia, which she pored over
+with a rapt and ecstatic spirit, that would not comprehend the warning
+scepticism of her parent. Let us picture to ourselves the high-bred
+Lady Annabel in the terrace-room of her ancient hall, working at
+her tapestry, and, seated at her feet, her little daughter Venetia,
+reading aloud the Arcadia! The peacocks have jumped up on the
+window-sill, to look at their friends, who love to feed them, and by
+their pecking have aroused the bloodhound crouching at Lady Annabel's
+feet. And Venetia looks up from her folio with a flushed and smiling
+face to catch the sympathy of her mother, who rewards her daughter's
+study with a kiss. Ah! there are no such mothers and no such daughters
+now!
+
+Thus it will be seen that the life and studies of Venetia tended
+rather dangerously, in spite of all the care of her mother, to the
+development of her imagination, in case indeed she possessed that
+terrible and fatal gift. She passed her days in unbroken solitude, or
+broken only by affections which softened her heart, and in a scene
+which itself might well promote any predisposition of the kind;
+beautiful and picturesque objects surrounded her on all sides; she
+wandered, at it were, in an enchanted wilderness, and watched the deer
+reposing under the green shadow of stately trees; the old hall
+itself was calculated to excite mysterious curiosity; one wing was
+uninhabited and shut up; each morning and evening she repaired with
+her mother and the household through long galleries to the chapel,
+where she knelt to her devotions, illumined by a window blazoned with
+the arms of that illustrious family of which she was a member, and
+of which she knew nothing. She had an indefinite and painful
+consciousness that she had been early checked in the natural inquiries
+which occur to every child; she had insensibly been trained to speak
+only of what she saw; and when she listened, at night, to the long
+ivy rustling about the windows, and the wild owls hooting about the
+mansion, with their pining, melancholy voices, she might have been
+excused for believing in those spirits, which her mother warned her to
+discredit; or she forgot these mournful impressions in dreams, caught
+from her romantic volumes, of bright knights and beautiful damsels.
+
+Only one event of importance had occurred at Cherbury during these two
+years, if indeed that be not too strong a phrase to use in reference
+to an occurrence which occasioned so slight and passing an interest.
+Lord Cadurcis had died. He had left his considerable property to his
+natural children, but the abbey had descended with the title to a very
+distant relative. The circle at Cherbury had heard, and that was all,
+that the new lord was a minor, a little boy, indeed very little older
+than Venetia herself; but this information produced no impression. The
+abbey was still deserted and desolate as ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Every Sunday afternoon, the rector of a neighbouring though still
+somewhat distant parish, of which the rich living was in the gift of
+the Herberts, came to perform divine service at Cherbury. It was a
+subject of deep regret to Lady Annabel that herself and her family
+were debarred from the advantage of more frequent and convenient
+spiritual consolation; but, at this time, the parochial discipline
+of the Church of England was not so strict as it fortunately is at
+present. Cherbury, though a vicarage, possessed neither parish church,
+nor a residence for the clergyman; nor was there indeed a village. The
+peasants on the estate, or labourers as they are now styled, a term
+whose introduction into our rural world is much to be lamented, lived
+in the respective farmhouses on the lands which they cultivated. These
+were scattered about at considerable distances, and many of their
+inmates found it more convenient to attend the church of the
+contiguous parish than to repair to the hall chapel, where the
+household and the dwellers in the few cottages scattered about the
+park and woods always assembled. The Lady Annabel, whose lot it had
+been in life to find her best consolation in religion, and who was
+influenced by not only a sincere but even a severe piety, had no other
+alternative, therefore, but engaging a chaplain; but this, after much
+consideration, she had resolved not to do. She was indeed her own
+chaplain, herself performing each day such parts of our morning and
+evening service whose celebration becomes a laic, and reading portions
+from the writings of those eminent divines who, from the Restoration
+to the conclusion of the last reign, have so eminently distinguished
+the communion of our national Church.
+
+Each Sunday, after the performance of divine service, the Rev. Dr.
+Masham dined with the family, and he was the only guest at Cherbury
+Venetia ever remembered seeing. The Doctor was a regular orthodox
+divine of the eighteenth century; with a large cauliflower wig,
+shovel-hat, and huge knee-buckles, barely covered by his top-boots;
+learned, jovial, humorous, and somewhat courtly; truly pious, but not
+enthusiastic; not forgetful of his tithes, but generous and charitable
+when they were once paid; never neglecting the sick, yet occasionally
+following a fox; a fine scholar, an active magistrate, and a good
+shot; dreading the Pope, and hating the Presbyterians.
+
+The Doctor was attached to the Herbert family not merely because they
+had given him a good living. He had a great reverence for an old
+English race, and turned up his nose at the Walpolian loanmongers.
+Lady Annabel, too, so beautiful, so dignified, so amiable, and highly
+bred, and, above all, so pious, had won his regard. He was not a
+little proud, too, that he was the only person in the county who had
+the honour of her acquaintance, and yet was disinterested enough to
+regret that he led so secluded a life, and often lamented that nothing
+would induce her to show her elegant person on a racecourse, or to
+attend an assize ball, an assembly which was then becoming much the
+fashion. The little Venetia was a charming child, and the kind-hearted
+Doctor, though a bachelor, loved children.
+
+  O! matre pulchra, filia pulchrior,
+
+was the Rev. Dr. Masham's apposite and favourite quotation after his
+weekly visit to Cherbury.
+
+Divine service was concluded; the Doctor had preached a capital
+sermon; for he had been one of the shining lights of his university
+until his rich but isolating preferment had apparently closed the
+great career which it was once supposed awaited him. The accustomed
+walk on the terrace was completed, and dinner was announced. This meal
+was always celebrated at Cherbury, where new fashions stole down with
+a lingering pace, in the great hall itself. An ample table was placed
+in the centre on a mat of rushes, sheltered by a large screen covered
+with huge maps of the shire and the neighbouring counties. The Lady
+Annabel and her good pastor seated themselves at each end of the
+table, while Venetia, mounted on a high chair, was waited on by
+Mistress Pauncefort, who never condescended by any chance attention to
+notice the presence of any other individual but her little charge, on
+whose chair she just leaned with an air of condescending devotion.
+The butler stood behind his lady, and two other servants watched the
+Doctor; rural bodies all, but decked on this day in gorgeous livery
+coats of blue and silver, which had been made originally for men of
+very different size and bearing. Simple as was the usual diet at
+Cherbury the cook was permitted on Sunday full play to her art, which,
+in the eighteenth century, indulged in the production of dishes more
+numerous and substantial than our refined tastes could at present
+tolerate. The Doctor appreciated a good dinner, and his countenance
+glistened with approbation as he surveyed the ample tureen of potage
+royal, with a boned duck swimming in its centre. Before him still
+scowled in death the grim countenance of a huge roast pike, flanked
+on one side by a leg of mutton _a-la-daube_, and on the other by
+the tempting delicacies of bombarded veal. To these succeeded that
+masterpiece of the culinary art, a grand battalia pie, in which the
+bodies of chickens, pigeons, and rabbits were embalmed in spices,
+cocks' combs, and savoury balls, and well bedewed with one of those
+rich sauces of claret, anchovy, and sweet herbs, in which our
+great-grandfathers delighted, and which was technically termed a Lear.
+But the grand essay of skill was the cover of this pasty, whereon the
+curious cook had contrived to represent all the once-living forms that
+were now entombed in that gorgeous sepulchre. A Florentine tourte, or
+tansy, an old English custard, a more refined blamango, and a riband
+jelly of many colours, offered a pleasant relief after these vaster
+inventions, and the repast closed with a dish of oyster loaves and a
+pompetone of larks.
+
+Notwithstanding the abstemiousness of his hostess, the Doctor was
+never deterred from doing justice to her hospitality. Few were the
+dishes that ever escaped him. The demon dyspepsia had not waved its
+fell wings over the eighteenth century, and wonderful were the feats
+then achieved by a country gentleman with the united aid of a good
+digestion and a good conscience.
+
+The servants had retired, and Dr. Masham had taken his last glass
+of port, and then he rang a bell on the table, and, I trust my fair
+readers will not be frightened from proceeding with this history, a
+servant brought him his pipe. The pipe was well stuffed, duly lighted,
+and duly puffed; and then, taking it from his mouth, the Doctor spoke.
+
+'And so, my honoured lady, you have got a neighbour at last.'
+
+'Indeed!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+But the claims of the pipe prevented the good Doctor from too quickly
+satisfying her natural curiosity. Another puff or two, and he then
+continued.
+
+'Yes,' said he, 'the old abbey has at last found a tenant.'
+
+'A tenant, Doctor?'
+
+'Ay! the best tenant in the world: its proprietor.'
+
+'You quite surprise me. When did this occur?'
+
+'They have been there these three days; I have paid them a visit. Mrs.
+Cadurcis has come to live at the abbey with the little lord.'
+
+'This is indeed news to us,' said Lady Annabel; 'and what kind of
+people are they?'
+
+'You know, my dear madam,' said the Doctor, just touching the ash of
+his pipe with his tobacco-stopper of chased silver, 'that the present
+lord is a very distant relative of the late one?'
+
+Lady Annabel bowed assent.
+
+'The late lord,' continued the Doctor, 'who was as strange and
+wrong-headed a man as ever breathed, though I trust he is in the
+kingdom of heaven for all that, left all his property to his unlawful
+children, with the exception of this estate entailed on the title, as
+all estates should be, 'Tis a fine place, but no great rental. I doubt
+whether 'tis more than a clear twelve hundred a-year.'
+
+'And Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Was an heiress,' replied the Doctor, 'and the late Mr. Cadurcis a
+spendrift. He was a bad manager, and, worse, a bad husband. Providence
+was pleased to summon him suddenly from this mortal scene, but not
+before he had dissipated the greater part of his wife's means. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, since she was a widow, has lived in strict seclusion with
+her little boy, as you may, my dear lady, with your dear little girl.
+But I am afraid,' said the Doctor, shaking his head, 'she has not
+been in the habit of dining so well as we have to-day. A very
+limited income, my dear madam; a very limited income indeed. And
+the guardians, I am told, will only allow the little lord a hundred
+a-year; but, on her own income, whatever it may be, and that addition,
+she has resolved to live at the abbey; and I believe, I believe she
+has it rent-free; but I don't know.'
+
+'Poor woman!' said Lady Annabel, and not without a sigh. 'I trust her
+child is her consolation.'
+
+Venetia had not spoken during this conversation, but she had listened
+to it very attentively. At length she said, 'Mamma, is not a widow a
+wife that has lost her husband?'
+
+'You are right, my dear,' said Lady Annabel, rather gravely.
+
+Venetia mused a moment, and then replied, 'Pray, mamma, are you a
+widow?'
+
+'My dear little girl,' said Dr. Masham, 'go and give that beautiful
+peacock a pretty piece of cake.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor rose from the table with Venetia, and took
+a turn in the park, while the Doctor's horses were getting ready.
+
+'I think, my good lady,' said the Doctor, 'it would be but an act of
+Christian charity to call upon Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'I was thinking the same,' said Lady Annabel; 'I am interested by what
+you have told me of her history and fortunes. We have some woes in
+common; I hope some joys. It seems that this case should indeed be an
+exception to my rule.'
+
+'I would not ask you to sacrifice your inclinations to the mere
+pleasures of the world,' said the Doctor: 'but duties, my dear lady,
+duties; there are such things as duties to our neighbour; and here is
+a case where, believe me, they might be fulfilled.'
+
+The Doctor's horses now appeared. Both master and groom wore their
+pistols in their holsters. The Doctor shook hands warmly with Lady
+Annabel, and patted Venetia on her head, as she ran up from a little
+distance, with an eager countenance, to receive her accustomed
+blessing. Then mounting his stout mare, he once more waived his hand
+with an air of courtliness to his hostess, and was soon out of sight.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia returned to the terrace-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+'And so I would, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, when Lady Annabel
+communicated to her faithful attendant, at night, the news of the
+arrival of the Cadurcis family at the abbey, and her intention of
+paying Mrs. Cadurcis a visit; 'and so I would, my lady,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, 'and it would be but an act of Christian charity after
+all, as the Doctor says; for although it is not for me to complain
+when my betters are satisfied, and after all I am always content, if
+your ladyship be; still there is no denying the fact, that this is
+a terrible lonesome life after all. And I cannot help thinking your
+ladyship has not been looking so well of late, and a little society
+would do your ladyship good; and Miss Venetia too, after all, she
+wants a playfellow; I am certain sure that I was as tired of playing
+at ball with her this morning as if I had never sat down in my born
+days; and I dare say the little lord will play with her all day long.'
+
+'If I thought that this visit would lead to what is understood by the
+word society, my good Pauncefort, I certainly should refrain from
+paying it,' said Lady Annabel, very quietly.
+
+'Oh! Lord, dear my lady, I was not for a moment dreaming of any such
+thing,' replied Mistress Pauncefort; 'society, I know as well as any
+one, means grand balls, Ranelagh, and the masquerades. I can't abide
+the thought of them, I do assure your ladyship; all I meant was that a
+quiet dinner now and then with a few friends, a dance perhaps in the
+evening, or a hand of whist, or a game of romps at Christmas, when the
+abbey will of course be quite full, a--'
+
+'I believe there is as little chance of the abbey being full at
+Christmas, or any other time, as there is of Cherbury.' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Mrs. Cadurcis is a widow, with a very slender fortune. Her
+son will not enjoy his estate until he is of age, and its rental is
+small. I am led to believe that they will live quite as quietly as
+ourselves; and when I spoke of Christian charity, I was thinking only
+of kindness towards them, and not of amusement for ourselves.'
+
+'Well, my lady, your la'ship knows best,' replied Mistress Pauncefort,
+evidently very disappointed; for she had indulged in momentary visions
+of noble visitors and noble valets; 'I am always content, you know,
+when your la'ship is; but, I must say, I think it is very odd for a
+lord to be so poor. I never heard of such a thing. I think they will
+turn out richer than you have an idea, my lady. Your la'ship knows
+'tis quite a saying, "As rich as a lord."'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled, but did not reply.
+
+The next morning the fawn-coloured chariot, which had rarely been used
+since Lady Annabel's arrival at Cherbury, and four black long-tailed
+coach-horses, that from absolute necessity had been degraded, in
+the interval, to the service of the cart and the plough, made their
+appearance, after much bustle and effort, before the hall-door.
+Although a morning's stroll from Cherbury through the woods, Cadurcis
+was distant nearly ten miles by the road, and that road was in great
+part impassable, save in favourable seasons. This visit, therefore,
+was an expedition; and Lady Annabel, fearing the fatigue for a child,
+determined to leave Venetia at home, from whom she had actually never
+been separated one hour in her life. Venetia could not refrain from
+shedding a tear when her mother embraced and quitted her, and begged,
+as a last favour, that she might accompany her through the park to
+the avenue lodge. So Pauncefort and herself entered the chariot, that
+rocked like a ship, in spite of all the skill of the coachman and the
+postilion.
+
+Venetia walked home with Mistress Pauncefort, but Lady Annabel's
+little daughter was not in her usual lively spirits; many a butterfly
+glanced around without attracting her pursuit, and the deer trooped
+by without eliciting a single observation. At length she said, in a
+thoughtful tone, 'Mistress Pauncefort, I should have liked to have
+gone and seen the little boy.'
+
+'You shall go and see him another day, Miss,' replied her attendant.
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'are you a widow?'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort almost started; had the inquiry been made by a
+man, she would almost have supposed he was going to be very rude. She
+was indeed much surprised.
+
+'And pray, Miss Venetia, what could put it in your head to ask such an
+odd question?' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'A widow! Miss Venetia;
+I have never yet changed my name, and I shall not in a hurry, that I
+can tell you.'
+
+'Do widows change their names?' said Venetia.
+
+'All women change their names when they marry,' responded Mistress
+Pauncefort.
+
+'Is mamma married?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'La! Miss Venetia. Well, to be sure, you do ask the strangest
+questions. Married! to be sure she is married,' said Mistress
+Pauncefort, exceedingly flustered.
+
+'And whom is she married to?' pursued the unwearied Venetia.
+
+'Your papa, to be sure,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing up to her
+eyes, and looking very confused; 'that is to say, Miss Venetia, you
+are never to ask questions about such subjects. Have not I often told
+you it is not pretty?'
+
+'Why is it not pretty?' said Venetia.
+
+'Because it is not proper,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'because your
+mamma does not like you to ask such questions, and she will be very
+angry with me for answering them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I tell you what, Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'I think mamma
+is a widow.'
+
+'And what then, Miss Venetia? There is no shame in that.'
+
+'Shame!' exclaimed Venetia. 'What is shame?'
+
+'Look, there is a pretty butterfly!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort.
+'Did you ever see such a pretty butterfly, Miss?'
+
+'I do not care about butterflies to-day, Mistress Pauncefort; I like
+to talk about widows.'
+
+'Was there ever such a child!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, with a
+wondering glance.
+
+'I must have had a papa,' said Venetia; 'all the ladies I read about
+had papas, and married husbands. Then whom did my mamma marry?'
+
+'Lord! Miss Venetia, you know very well your mamma always tells
+you that all those books you read are a pack of stories,' observed
+Mistress Pauncefort, with an air of triumphant art.
+
+'There never were such persons, perhaps,' said Venetia, 'but it is not
+true that there never were such things as papas and husbands, for all
+people have papas; you must have had a papa, Mistress Pauncefort?'
+
+'To be sure I had,' said Mistress Pauncefort, bridling up.
+
+'And a mamma too?' said Venetia.
+
+'As honest a woman as ever lived,' said Mistress Pauncefort.
+
+'Then if I have no papa, mamma must be a wife that has lost her
+husband, and that, mamma told me at dinner yesterday, was a widow.'
+
+'Was the like ever seen!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. 'And what
+then, Miss Venetia?'
+
+'It seems to me so odd that only two people should live here, and both
+be widows,' said Venetia, 'and both have a little child; the only
+difference is, that one is a little boy, and I am a little girl.'
+
+'When ladies lose their husbands, they do not like to have their names
+mentioned,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and so you must never talk of
+your papa to my lady, and that is the truth.'
+
+'I will not now,' said Venetia.
+
+When they returned home, Mistress Pauncefort brought her work, and
+seated herself on the terrace, that she might not lose sight of her
+charge. Venetia played about for some little time; she made a castle
+behind a tree, and fancied she was a knight, and then a lady, and
+conjured up an ogre in the neighbouring shrubbery; but these daydreams
+did not amuse her as much as usual. She went and fetched her book, but
+even 'The Seven Champions' could not interest her. Her eye was fixed
+upon the page, and apparently she was absorbed in her pursuit, but
+her mind wandered, and the page was never turned. She indulged in an
+unconscious reverie; her fancy was with her mother on her visit; the
+old abbey rose up before her: she painted the scene without an effort:
+the court, with the fountain; the grand room, with the tapestry
+hangings; that desolate garden, with the fallen statues; and that
+long, gloomy gallery. And in all these scenes appeared that little
+boy, who, somehow or other, seemed wonderfully blended with her
+imaginings. It was a very long day this; Venetia dined along with
+Mistress Pauncefort; the time hung very heavy; at length she fell
+asleep in Mistress Pauncefort's lap. A sound roused her: the carriage
+had returned; she ran to greet her mother, but there was no news; Mrs.
+Cadurcis had been absent; she had gone to a distant town to buy some
+furniture; and, after all, Lady Annabel had not seen the little boy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+A few days after the visit to Cadurcis, when Lady Annabel was sitting
+alone, a postchaise drove up to the hall, whence issued a short and
+stout woman with a rubicund countenance, and dressed in a style which
+remarkably blended the shabby with the tawdry. She was accompanied
+by a boy between eleven and twelve years of age, whose appearance,
+however, much contrasted with that of his mother, for he was pale and
+slender, with long curling black hair and large black eyes, which
+occasionally, by their transient flashes, agreeably relieved a face
+the general expression of which might be esteemed somewhat shy and
+sullen. The lady, of course, was Mrs. Cadurcis, who was received by
+Lady Annabel with the greatest courtesy.
+
+'A terrible journey,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, fanning herself as she
+took her seat, 'and so very hot! Plantagenet, my love, make your
+bow! Have not I always told you to make a bow when you enter a room,
+especially where there are strangers? This is Lady Annabel Herbert,
+who was so kind as to call upon us. Make your bow to Lady Annabel.'
+
+The boy gave a sort of sulky nod, but Lady Annabel received it so
+graciously and expressed herself so kindly to him that his features
+relaxed a little, though he was quite silent and sat on the edge of
+his chair, the picture of dogged indifference.
+
+'Charming country, Lady Annabel,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but worse
+roads, if possible, than we had in Northumberland, where, indeed,
+there were no roads at all. Cherbury a delightful place, very unlike
+the abbey; dreadfully lonesome I assure you I find it, Lady Annabel.
+Great change for us from a little town and all our kind neighbours.
+Very different from Morpeth; is it not, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I hate Morpeth,' said the boy.
+
+'Hate Morpeth!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'well, I am sure, that
+is very ungrateful, with so many kind friends as we always found.
+Besides, Plantagenet, have I not always told you that you are to hate
+nothing? It is very wicked. The trouble it costs me, Lady Annabel, to
+educate this dear child!' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, turning to Lady
+Annabel, and speaking in a semi-tone. 'I have done it all myself, I
+assure you; and, when he likes, he can be as good as any one. Can't
+you, Plantagenet?'
+
+Lord Cadurcis gave a grim smile; seated himself at the very back of
+the deep chair and swung his feet, which no longer reached the ground,
+to and fro.
+
+'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis always behaves well,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'There, Plantagenet,' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, 'only listen to that.
+Hear what Lady Annabel Herbert says; she is sure you always behave
+well. Now mind, never give her ladyship cause to change her opinion.'
+
+Plantagenet curled his lip, and half turned his back on his
+companions.
+
+'I regretted so much that I was not at home when you did me the honour
+to call,' resumed Mrs. Cadurcis; 'but I had gone over for the day to
+Southport, buying furniture. What a business it is to buy furniture,
+Lady Annabel!' added Mrs. Cadurcis, with a piteous expression.
+
+'It is indeed very troublesome,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Ah! you have none of these cares,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis, surveying
+the pretty apartment. 'What a difference between Cherbury and the
+abbey! I suppose you have never been there?'
+
+'Indeed, it is one of my favourite walks,' answered Lady Annabel;
+'and, some two years ago, I even took the liberty of walking through
+the house.'
+
+'Was there ever such a place!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'I assure you
+my poor head turns whenever I try to find my way about it. But the
+trustees offered it us, and I thought it my duty to my son to reside
+there. Besides, it was a great offer to a widow; if poor Mr. Cadurcis
+had been alive it would have been different. I hardly know what
+I shall do there, particularly in winter. My spirits are always
+dreadfully low. I only hope Plantagenet will behave well. If he goes
+into his tantarums at the abbey, and particularly in winter, I hardly
+know what will become of me!'
+
+'I am sure Lord Cadurcis will do everything to make the abbey
+comfortable to you. Besides, it is but a short walk from Cherbury, and
+you must come often and see us.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet can be good if he likes, I can assure you,
+Lady Annabel; and behaves as properly as any little boy I know.
+Plantagenet, my dear, speak. Have not I always told you, when you pay
+a visit, that you should open your mouth now and then. I don't like
+chattering children,' added Mrs. Cadurcis, 'but I like them to answer
+when they are spoken to.'
+
+'Nobody has spoken to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a sullen tone.
+
+'Plantagenet, my love!' said his mother in a solemn voice.
+
+'Well, mother, what do you want?'
+
+'Plantagenet, my love, you know you promised me to be good!'
+
+'Well! what have I done?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, interfering, 'do you like to look
+at pictures?'
+
+'Thank you,' replied the little lord, in a more courteous tone; 'I
+like to be left alone.'
+
+'Did you ever know such an odd child!' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'and yet,
+Lady Annabel, you must not judge him by what you see. I do assure you
+he can behave, when he likes, as pretty as possible.'
+
+'Pretty!' muttered the little lord between his teeth.
+
+'If you had only seen him at Morpeth sometimes at a little tea party,'
+said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'he really was quite the ornament of the company.'
+
+'No, I wasn't,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet!' said his mother again in a solemn tone, 'have I not
+always told you that you are never to contradict any one?'
+
+The little lord indulged in a suppressed growl.
+
+'There was a little play last Christmas,' continued Mrs. Cadurcis,
+'and he acted quite delightfully. Now you would not think that, from
+the way he sits upon that chair. Plantagenet, my dear, I do insist
+upon your behaving yourself. Sit like a man.'
+
+'I am not a man,' said Lord Cadurcis, very quietly; 'I wish I were.'
+
+'Plantagenet!' said the mother, 'have not I always told you that you
+are never to answer me? It is not proper for children to answer! O
+Lady Annabel, if you knew what it cost me to educate my son. He never
+does anything I wish, and it is so provoking, because I know that he
+can behave as properly as possible if he likes. He does it to provoke
+me. You know you do it to provoke me, you little brat; now, sit
+properly, sir; I do desire you to sit properly. How vexatious that you
+should call at Cherbury for the first time, and behave in this manner!
+Plantagenet, do you hear me?' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis, with a face
+reddening to scarlet, and almost menacing a move from her seat.
+
+'Yes, everybody hears you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said the little lord.
+
+'Don't call me Mrs. Cadurcis,' exclaimed the mother, in a dreadful
+rage. 'That is not the way to speak to your mother; I will not be
+called Mrs. Cadurcis by you. Don't answer me, sir; I desire you not
+to answer me. I have half a mind to get up and give you a good shake,
+that I have. O Lady Annabel,' sighed Mrs. Cadurcis, while a tear
+trickled down her cheek, 'if you only knew the life I lead, and what
+trouble it costs me to educate that child!'
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'I am sure that Lord Cadurcis has
+no other wish but to please you. Indeed you have misunderstood him.'
+
+'Yes! she always misunderstands me,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a softer
+tone, but with pouting lips and suffused eyes.
+
+'Now he is going on,' said his mother, beginning herself to cry
+dreadfully. 'He knows my weak heart; he knows nobody in the world
+loves him like his mother; and this is the way he treats me.'
+
+'My dear Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, 'pray take luncheon after
+your long drive; and Lord Cadurcis, I am sure you must be fatigued.'
+
+'Thank you, I never eat, my dear lady,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, 'except at
+my meals. But one glass of Mountain, if you please, I would just take
+the liberty of tasting, for the weather is so dreadfully hot, and
+Plantagenet has so aggravated me, I really do not feel myself.'
+
+Lady Annabel sounded her silver hand-bell, and the butler brought some
+cakes and the Mountain. Mrs. Cadurcis revived by virtue of her single
+glass, and the providential co-operation of a subsequent one or two.
+Even the cakes and the Mountain, however, would not tempt her son to
+open his mouth; and this, in spite of her returning composure, drove
+her to desperation. A conviction that the Mountain and the cakes were
+delicious, an amiable desire that the palate of her spoiled child
+should be gratified, some reasonable maternal anxiety that after so
+long and fatiguing a drive he in fact needed some refreshment, and
+the agonising consciousness that all her own physical pleasure at the
+moment was destroyed by the mental sufferings she endured at having
+quarrelled with her son, and that he was depriving himself of what was
+so agreeable only to pique her, quite overwhelmed the ill-regulated
+mind of this fond mother. Between each sip and each mouthful, she
+appealed to him to follow her example, now with cajolery, now with
+menace, till at length, worked up by the united stimulus of the
+Mountain and her own ungovernable rage, she dashed down the glass and
+unfinished slice of cake, and, before the astonished Lady Annabel,
+rushed forward to give him what she had long threatened, and what she
+in general ultimately had recourse to, a good shake.
+
+Her agile son, experienced in these storms, escaped in time, and
+pushed his chair before his infuriated mother; Mrs. Cadurcis, however,
+rallied, and chased him round the room; once more she flattered
+herself she had captured him, once more he evaded her; in her despair
+she took up Venetia's 'Seven Champions,' and threw the volume at his
+head; he laughed a fiendish laugh, as, ducking his head, the book flew
+on, and dashed through a pane of glass; Mrs. Cadurcis made a desperate
+charge, and her son, a little frightened at her almost maniacal
+passion, saved himself by suddenly seizing Lady Annabel's work-table,
+and whirling it before her; Mrs. Cadurcis fell over the leg of the
+table, and went into hysterics; while the bloodhound, who had long
+started from his repose, looked at his mistress for instructions, and
+in the meantime continued barking. The astonished and agitated Lady
+Annabel assisted Mrs. Cadurcis to rise, and led her to a couch. Lord
+Cadurcis, pale and dogged, stood in a corner, and after all this
+uproar there was a comparative calm, only broken by the sobs of the
+mother, each instant growing fainter and fainter.
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Mistress Pauncefort ushered in the
+little Venetia. She really looked like an angel of peace sent from
+heaven on a mission of concord, with her long golden hair, her bright
+face, and smile of ineffable loveliness.
+
+'Mamma!' said Venetia, in the sweetest tone.
+
+'Hush! darling,' said Lady Annabel, 'this lady is not very well.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis opened her eyes and sighed. She beheld Venetia, and
+stared at her with a feeling of wonder. 'O Lady Annabel,' she faintly
+exclaimed, 'what must you think of me? But was there ever such an
+unfortunate mother? and I have not a thought in the world but for that
+boy. I have devoted my life to him, and never would have buried myself
+in this abbey but for his sake. And this is the way he treats me,
+and his father before him treated me even worse. Am I not the most
+unfortunate woman you ever knew?'
+
+'My dear madam,' said the kind Lady Annabel, in a soothing tone, 'you
+will be very happy yet; all will be quite right and quite happy.'
+
+'Is this angel your child?' inquired Mrs. Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'This is my little girl, Venetia. Come hither, Venetia, and speak to
+Mrs. Cadurcis.'
+
+'How do you do, Mrs. Cadurcis?' said Venetia. 'I am so glad you have
+come to live at the abbey.'
+
+'The angel!' exclaimed Mrs. Cadurcis. 'The sweet seraph! Oh! why did
+not my Plantagenet speak to you, Lady Annabel, in the same tone?
+And he can, if he likes; he can, indeed. It was his silence that so
+mortified me; it was his silence that led to all. I am so proud of
+him! and then he comes here, and never speaks a word. O Plantagenet, I
+am sure you will break my heart.'
+
+Venetia went up to the little lord in the corner, and gently stroked
+his dark cheek. 'Are you the little boy?' she said.
+
+Cadurcis looked at her; at first the glance was rather fierce, but
+it instantly relaxed. 'What is your name?' he said in a low, but not
+unkind, tone.
+
+'Venetia!'
+
+'I like you, Venetia,' said the boy. 'Do you live here?'
+
+'Yes, with my mamma.'
+
+'I like your mamma, too; but not so much as you. I like your gold
+hair.'
+
+'Oh, how funny! to like my gold hair!'
+
+'If you had come in sooner,' said Cadurcis, 'we should not have had
+this row.'
+
+'What is a row, little boy?' said Venetia.
+
+'Do not call me little boy,' he said, but not in an unkind tone; 'call
+me by my name.'
+
+'What is your name?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis; but you may call me by my Christian name, because I
+like you.'
+
+'What is your Christian name?'
+
+'Plantagenet.'
+
+'Plantagenet! What a long name!' said Venetia. 'Tell me then,
+Plantagenet, what is a row?'
+
+'What often takes place between me and my mother, but which I am sorry
+now has happened here, for I like this place, and should like to come
+often. A row is a quarrel.'
+
+'A quarrel! What! do you quarrel with your mamma?'
+
+'Often.'
+
+'Why, then, you are not a good boy.'
+
+'Ah! my mamma is not like yours,' said the little lord, with a sigh.
+'It is not my fault. But now I want to make it up; how shall I do it?'
+
+'Go and give her a kiss.'
+
+'Poh! that is not the way.'
+
+'Shall I go and ask my mamma what is best to do?' said Venetia;
+and she stole away on tiptoe, and whispered to Lady Annabel that
+Plantagenet wanted her. Her mother came forward and invited Lord
+Cadurcis to walk on the terrace with her, leaving Venetia to amuse her
+other guest.
+
+Lady Annabel, though kind, was frank and firm in her unexpected
+confidential interview with her new friend. She placed before him
+clearly the enormity of his conduct, which no provocation could
+justify; it was a violation of divine law, as well as human propriety.
+She found the little lord attentive, tractable, and repentant,
+and, what might not have been expected, exceedingly ingenious
+and intelligent. His observations, indeed, were distinguished by
+remarkable acuteness; and though he could not, and indeed did not even
+attempt to vindicate his conduct, he incidentally introduced much
+that might be urged in its extenuation. There was indeed in this,
+his milder moment, something very winning in his demeanour, and Lady
+Annabel deeply regretted that a nature of so much promise and capacity
+should, by the injudicious treatment of a parent, at once fond and
+violent, afford such slight hopes of future happiness. It was arranged
+between Lord Cadurcis and Lady Annabel that she should lead him to his
+mother, and that he should lament the past, and ask her forgiveness;
+so they re-entered the room. Venetia was listening to a long story
+from Mrs. Cadurcis, who appeared to have entirely recovered herself;
+but her countenance assumed a befitting expression of grief and
+gravity when she observed her son.
+
+'My dear madam,' said Lady Annabel, 'your son is unhappy that he
+should have offended you, and he has asked my kind offices to effect a
+perfect reconciliation between a child who wishes to be dutiful to a
+parent who, he feels, has always been so affectionate.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis began crying.
+
+'Mother,' said her son, 'I am sorry for what has occurred; mine was
+the fault. I shall not be happy till you pardon me.'
+
+'No, yours was not the fault,' said poor Mrs. Cadurcis, crying
+bitterly. 'Oh! no, it was not! I was in fault, only I. There, Lady
+Annabel, did I not tell you he was the sweetest, dearest, most
+generous-hearted creature that ever lived? Oh! if he would only always
+speak so, I am sure I should be the happiest woman that ever breathed!
+He puts me in mind quite of his poor dear father, who was an
+angel upon earth; he was indeed, when he was not vexed. O my
+dear Plantagenet! my only hope and joy! you are the treasure and
+consolation of my life, and always will be. God bless you, my darling
+child! You shall have that pony you wanted; I am sure I can manage it:
+I did not think I could.'
+
+As Lady Annabel thought it was as well that the mother and the son
+should not be immediately thrown together after this storm, she kindly
+proposed that they should remain, and pass the day at Cherbury; and,
+as Plantagenet's eyes brightened at the proposal, it did not require
+much trouble to persuade his mother to accede to it. The day, that had
+commenced so inauspiciously, turned out one of the most agreeable,
+both to Mrs. Cadurcis and her child. The two mothers conversed
+together, and, as Mrs. Cadurcis was a great workwoman, there was
+at least one bond of sympathy between her and the tapestry of her
+hostess. Then they all took a stroll in the park; and as Mrs. Cadurcis
+was not able to walk for any length of time, the children were
+permitted to stroll about together, attended by Mistress Pauncefort,
+while Mrs. Cadurcis, chatting without ceasing, detailed to Lady
+Annabel all the history of her life, all the details of her various
+complaints and her economical arrangements, and all the secrets of her
+husband's treatment of her, that favourite subject on which she ever
+waxed most eloquent. Plantagenet, equally indulging in confidence,
+which with him, however, was unusual, poured all his soul into the
+charmed ear of Venetia. He told her how he and his mother had lived at
+Morpeth, and how he hated it; how poor they had been, and how rich he
+should be; how he loved the abbey, and especially the old gallery, and
+the drums and armour; how he had been a day-scholar at a little school
+which he abhorred, and how he was to go some day to Eton, of which he
+was very proud.
+
+At length they were obliged to return, and when dinner was over the
+postchaise was announced. Mrs. Cadurcis parted from Lady Annabel with
+all the warm expressions of a heart naturally kind and generous; and
+Plantagenet embraced Venetia, and promised that the next day he would
+find his way alone from Cadurcis, through the wood, and come and take
+another walk with her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+This settlement of Mrs. Cadurcis and her son in the neighbourhood
+was an event of no slight importance in the life of the family at
+Cherbury. Venetia at length found a companion of her own age, itself
+an incident which, in its influence upon her character and pursuits,
+was not to be disregarded. There grew up between the little lord and
+the daughter of Lady Annabel that fond intimacy which not rarely
+occurs in childhood. Plantagenet and Venetia quickly imbibed for each
+other a singular affection, not displeasing to Lady Annabel, who
+observed, without dissatisfaction, the increased happiness of her
+child, and encouraged by her kindness the frequent visits of the boy,
+who soon learnt the shortest road from the abbey, and almost daily
+scaled the hill, and traced his way through the woods to the hall.
+There was much, indeed, in the character and the situation of Lord
+Cadurcis which interested Lady Annabel Herbert. His mild, engaging,
+and affectionate manners, when he was removed from the injudicious
+influence of his mother, won upon her feelings; she felt for this
+lone child, whom nature had gifted with so soft a heart and with a
+thoughtful mind whose outbreaks not unfrequently attracted her notice;
+with none to guide him, and with only one heart to look up to for
+fondness; and that, too, one that had already contrived to forfeit the
+respect even of so young a child.
+
+Yet Lady Annabel was too sensible of the paramount claims of a
+mother; herself, indeed, too jealous of any encroachment on the full
+privileges of maternal love, to sanction in the slightest degree, by
+her behaviour, any neglect of Mrs. Cadurcis by her son. For his sake,
+therefore, she courted the society of her new neighbour; and although
+Mrs. Cadurcis offered little to engage Lady Annabel's attention as
+a companion, though she was violent in her temper, far from well
+informed, and, from the society in which, in spite of her original
+good birth, her later years had passed, very far from being
+refined, she was not without her good qualities. She was generous,
+kind-hearted, and grateful; not insensible of her own deficiencies,
+and respectable from her misfortunes. Lady Annabel was one of those
+who always judged individuals rather by their good qualities than
+their bad. With the exception of her violent temper, which, under the
+control of Lady Annabel's presence, and by the aid of all that kind
+person's skilful management, Mrs. Cadurcis generally contrived to
+bridle, her principal faults were those of manner, which, from the
+force of habit, every day became less painful. Mrs. Cadurcis, who,
+indeed, was only a child of a larger growth, became scarcely less
+attached to the Herbert family than her son; she felt that her life,
+under their influence, was happier and serener than of yore; that
+there were less domestic broils than in old days; that her son was
+more dutiful; and, as she could not help suspecting, though she found
+it difficult to analyse the cause, herself more amiable. The truth
+was, Lady Annabel always treated Mrs. Cadurcis with studied respect;
+and the children, and especially Venetia, followed her example.
+Mrs. Cadurcis' self-complacency was not only less shocked, but more
+gratified, than before; and this was the secret of her happiness. For
+no one was more mortified by her rages, when they were past, than Mrs.
+Cadurcis herself; she felt they compromised her dignity, and had lost
+her all moral command over a child whom she loved at the bottom of her
+heart with a kind of wild passion, though she would menace and strike
+him, and who often precipitated these paroxysms by denying his mother
+that duty and affection which were, after all, the great charm and
+pride of her existence.
+
+As Mrs. Cadurcis was unable to walk to Cherbury, and as Plantagenet
+soon fell into the habit of passing every morning at the hall, Lady
+Annabel was frequent in her visits to the mother, and soon she
+persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to order the old postchaise regularly on
+Saturday, and remain at Cherbury until the following Monday; by these
+means both families united together in the chapel at divine service,
+while the presence of Dr. Masham, at their now increased Sunday
+dinner, was an incident in the monotonous life of Mrs. Cadurcis far
+from displeasing to her. The Doctor gave her a little news of the
+neighbourhood, and of the country in general; amused her with an
+occasional anecdote of the Queen and the young Princesses, and always
+lent her the last number of 'Sylvanus Urban.'
+
+This weekly visit to Cherbury, the great personal attention which she
+always received there, and the frequent morning walks of Lady Annabel
+to the abbey, effectually repressed on the whole the jealousy which
+was a characteristic of Mrs. Cadurcis' nature, and which the constant
+absence of her son from her in the mornings might otherwise have
+fatally developed. But Mrs. Cadurcis could not resist the conviction
+that the Herberts were as much her friends as her child's; her
+jealousy was balanced by her gratitude; she was daily, almost hourly,
+sensible of some kindness of Lady Annabel, for there were a thousand
+services in the power of the opulent and ample establishment of
+Cherbury to afford the limited and desolate household at the abbey.
+Living in seclusion, it is difficult to refrain from imbibing even a
+strong regard for our almost solitary companion, however incompatible
+may be our pursuits, and however our tastes may vary, especially when
+that companion is grateful, and duly sensible of the condescension of
+our intimacy. And so it happened that, before a year had elapsed, that
+very Mrs. Cadurcis, whose first introduction at Cherbury had been so
+unfavourable to her, and from whose temper and manners the elegant
+demeanour and the disciplined mind of Lady Annabel Herbert might have
+been excused for a moment recoiling, had succeeded in establishing a
+strong hold upon the affections of her refined neighbour, who sought,
+on every occasion, her society, and omitted few opportunities of
+contributing to her comfort and welfare.
+
+In the meantime her son was the companion of Venetia, both in her
+pastimes and studies. The education of Lord Cadurcis had received no
+further assistance than was afforded by the little grammar-school at
+Morpeth, where he had passed three or four years as a day-scholar, and
+where his mother had invariably taken his part on every occasion that
+he had incurred the displeasure of his master. There he had obtained
+some imperfect knowledge of Latin; yet the boy was fond of reading,
+and had picked up, in an odd way, more knowledge than might have been
+supposed. He had read 'Baker's Chronicle,' and 'The Old Universal
+History,' and 'Plutarch;' and had turned over, in the book room of an
+old gentleman at Morpeth, who had been attracted by his intelligence,
+not a few curious old folios, from which he had gleaned no
+contemptible store of curious instances of human nature. His guardian,
+whom he had never seen, and who was a great nobleman and lived in
+London, had signified to Mrs. Cadurcis his intention of sending his
+ward to Eton; but that time had not yet arrived, and Mrs. Cadurcis,
+who dreaded parting with her son, determined to postpone it by every
+maternal artifice in her power. At present it would have seemed that
+her son's intellect was to be left utterly uncultivated, for there
+was no school in the neighbourhood which he could attend, and no
+occasional assistance which could be obtained; and to the constant
+presence of a tutor in the house Mrs. Cadurcis was not less opposed
+than his lordship could have been himself.
+
+It was by degrees that Lord Cadurcis became the partner of Venetia
+in her studies. Lady Annabel had consulted Dr. Masham about the poor
+little boy, whose neglected state she deplored; and the good Doctor
+had offered to ride over to Cherbury at least once a week, besides
+Sunday, provided Lady Annabel would undertake that his directions,
+in his absence, should be attended to. This her ladyship promised
+cheerfully; nor had she any difficulty in persuading Cadurcis to
+consent to the arrangement. He listened with docility and patience to
+her representation of the fatal effects, in his after-life, of his
+neglected education; of the generous and advantageous offer of Dr.
+Masham; and how cheerfully she would exert herself to assist his
+endeavours, if Plantagenet would willingly submit to her supervision.
+The little lord expressed to her his determination to do all that she
+desired, and voluntarily promised her that she should never repent
+her goodness. And he kept his word. So every morning, with the full
+concurrence of Mrs. Cadurcis, whose advice and opinion on the affair
+were most formally solicited by Lady Annabel, Plantagenet arrived
+early at the hall, and took his writing and French lessons with
+Venetia, and then they alternately read aloud to Lady Annabel from the
+histories of Hooke and Echard. When Venetia repaired to her drawing,
+Cadurcis sat down to his Latin exercise, and, in encouraging and
+assisting him, Lady Annabel, a proficient in Italian, began herself
+to learn the ancient language of the Romans. With such a charming
+mistress even these Latin exercises were achieved. In vain Cadurcis,
+after turning leaf over leaf, would look round with a piteous air to
+his fair assistant, 'O Lady Annabel, I am sure the word is not in the
+dictionary;' Lady Annabel was in a moment at his side, and, by some
+magic of her fair fingers, the word would somehow or other make its
+appearance. After a little exposure of this kind, Plantagenet would
+labour with double energy, until, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion
+and vexation, he would burst forth, 'O Lady Annabel, indeed there is
+not a nominative case in this sentence.' And then Lady Annabel
+would quit her easel, with her pencil in her hand, and give all her
+intellect to the puzzling construction; at length, she would say,
+'I think, Plantagenet, this must be our nominative case;' and so it
+always was.
+
+Thus, when Wednesday came, the longest and most laborious morning of
+all Lord Cadurcis' studies, and when he neither wrote, nor read, nor
+learnt French with Venetia, but gave up all his soul to Dr. Masham, he
+usually acquitted himself to that good person's satisfaction, who left
+him, in general, with commendations that were not lost on the pupil,
+and plenty of fresh exercises to occupy him and Lady Annabel until the
+next week. When a year had thus passed away, the happiest year yet
+in Lord Cadurcis' life, in spite of all his disadvantages, he had
+contrived to make no inconsiderable progress. Almost deprived of a
+tutor, he had advanced in classical acquirement more than during the
+whole of his preceding years of scholarship, while his handwriting
+began to become intelligible, he could read French with comparative
+facility, and had turned over many a volume in the well-stored library
+at Cherbury.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+When the hours of study were past, the children, with that zest for
+play which occupation can alone secure, would go forth together, and
+wander in the park. Here they had made a little world for themselves,
+of which no one dreamed; for Venetia had poured forth all her Arcadian
+lore into the ear of Plantagenet; and they acted together many of
+the adventures of the romance, under the fond names of Musidorus and
+Philoclea. Cherbury was Arcadia, and Cadurcis Macedon; while the
+intervening woods figured as the forests of Thessaly, and the breezy
+downs were the heights of Pindus. Unwearied was the innocent sport
+of their virgin imaginations; and it was a great treat if Venetia,
+attended by Mistress Pauncefort, were permitted to accompany
+Plantagenet some way on his return. Then they parted with an embrace
+in the woods of Thessaly, and Musidorus strolled home with a heavy
+heart to his Macedonian realm.
+
+Parted from Venetia, the magic suddenly seemed to cease, and Musidorus
+was instantly transformed into the little Lord Cadurcis, exhausted by
+the unconscious efforts of his fancy, depressed by the separation from
+his sweet companion, and shrinking from the unpoetical reception which
+at the best awaited him in his ungenial home. Often, when thus alone,
+would he loiter on his way and seat himself on the ridge, and watch
+the setting sun, as its dying glory illumined the turrets of his
+ancient house, and burnished the waters of the lake, until the tears
+stole down his cheek; and yet he knew not why. No thoughts of sorrow
+had flitted through his mind, nor indeed had ideas of any description
+occurred to him. It was a trance of unmeaning abstraction; all that he
+felt was a mystical pleasure in watching the sunset, and a conviction
+that, if he were not with Venetia, that which he loved next best, was
+to be alone.
+
+The little Cadurcis in general returned home moody and silent, and
+his mother too often, irritated by his demeanour, indulged in all the
+expressions of a quick and offended temper; but since his intimacy
+with the Herberts, Plantagenet had learnt to control his emotions,
+and often successfully laboured to prevent those scenes of domestic
+recrimination once so painfully frequent. There often, too, was a note
+from Lady Annabel to Mrs. Cadurcis, or some other slight memorial,
+borne by her son, which enlisted all the kind feelings of that lady in
+favour of her Cherbury friends, and then the evening was sure to pass
+over in peace; and, when Plantagenet was not thus armed, he exerted
+himself to be cordial; and so, on the whole, with some skill in
+management, and some trials of temper, the mother and child contrived
+to live together with far greater comfort than they had of old.
+
+Bedtime was always a great relief to Plantagenet, for it secured
+him solitude. He would lie awake for hours, indulging in sweet and
+unconscious reveries, and brooding over the future morn, that always
+brought happiness. All that he used to sigh for, was to be Lady
+Annabel's son; were he Venetia's brother, then he was sure he never
+should be for a moment unhappy; that parting from Cherbury, and the
+gloomy evenings at Cadurcis, would then be avoided. In such a mood,
+and lying awake upon his pillow, he sought refuge from the painful
+reality that surrounded him in the creative solace of his imagination.
+Alone, in his little bed, Cadurcis was Venetia's brother, and he
+conjured up a thousand scenes in which they were never separated, and
+wherein he always played an amiable and graceful part. Yet he loved
+the abbey; his painful infancy was not associated with that scene; it
+was not connected with any of those grovelling common-places of his
+life, from which he had shrunk back with instinctive disgust, even
+at a very tender age. Cadurcis was the spot to which, in his most
+miserable moments at Morpeth, he had always looked forward, as the
+only chance of emancipation from the distressing scene that surrounded
+him. He had been brought up with a due sense of his future position,
+and although he had ever affected a haughty indifference on the
+subject, from his disrelish for the coarse acquaintances who were
+perpetually reminding him, with chuckling self-complacency, of his
+future greatness, in secret he had ever brooded over his destiny as
+his only consolation. He had imbibed from his own reflections, at a
+very early period of life, a due sense of the importance of his lot;
+he was proud of his hereditary honours, blended, as they were, with
+some glorious passages in the history of his country, and prouder of
+his still more ancient line. The eccentric exploits and the violent
+passions, by which his race had been ever characterised, were to him a
+source of secret exultation. Even the late lord, who certainly had
+no claims to his gratitude, for he had robbed the inheritance to the
+utmost of his power, commanded, from the wild decision of his life,
+the savage respect of his successor. In vain Mrs. Cadurcis would
+pour forth upon this, the favourite theme for her wrath and her
+lamentations, all the bitter expressions of her rage and woe.
+Plantagenet had never imbibed her prejudices against the departed, and
+had often irritated his mother by maintaining that the late lord was
+perfectly justified in his conduct.
+
+But in these almost daily separations between Plantagenet and Venetia,
+how different was her lot to that of her companion! She was the
+confidante of all his domestic sorrows, and often he had requested
+her to exert her influence to obtain some pacifying missive from Lady
+Annabel, which might secure him a quiet evening at Cadurcis; and
+whenever this had not been obtained, the last words of Venetia were
+ever not to loiter, and to remember to speak to his mother as much as
+he possibly could. Venetia returned to a happy home, welcomed by the
+smile of a soft and beautiful parent, and with words of affection
+sweeter than music. She found an engaging companion, who had no
+thought but for her welfare, her amusement, and her instruction: and
+often, when the curtains were drawn, the candles lit, and Venetia,
+holding her mother's hand, opened her book, she thought of poor
+Plantagenet, so differently situated, with no one to be kind to him,
+with no one to sympathise with his thoughts, and perhaps at the very
+moment goaded into some unhappy quarrel with his mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The appearance of the Cadurcis family on the limited stage of her
+life, and the engrossing society of her companion, had entirely
+distracted the thoughts of Venetia from a subject to which in old days
+they were constantly recurring, and that was her father. By a process
+which had often perplexed her, and which she could never succeed in
+analysing, there had arisen in her mind, without any ostensible
+agency on the part of her mother which she could distinctly recall, a
+conviction that this was a topic on which she was never to speak. This
+idea had once haunted her, and she had seldom found herself alone
+without almost unconsciously musing over it. Notwithstanding the
+unvarying kindness of Lady Annabel, she exercised over her child
+a complete and unquestioned control. Venetia was brought up with
+strictness, which was only not felt to be severe, because the system
+was founded on the most entire affection, but, fervent as her love was
+for her mother, it was equalled by her profound respect, which every
+word and action of Lady Annabel tended to maintain.
+
+In all the confidential effusions with Plantagenet, Venetia had never
+dwelt upon this mysterious subject; indeed, in these conversations,
+when they treated of their real and not ideal life, Venetia was a mere
+recipient: all that she could communicate, Plantagenet could observe;
+he it was who avenged himself at these moments for his habitual
+silence before third persons; it was to Venetia that he poured forth
+all his soul, and she was never weary of hearing his stories about
+Morpeth, and all his sorrows, disgusts, and afflictions. There was
+scarcely an individual in that little town with whom, from his lively
+narratives, she was not familiar; and it was to her sympathising heart
+that he confided all his future hopes and prospects, and confessed the
+strong pride he experienced in being a Cadurcis, which from all others
+was studiously concealed.
+
+It had happened that the first Christmas Day after the settlement of
+the Cadurcis family at the abbey occurred in the middle of the week;
+and as the weather was severe, in order to prevent two journeys at
+such an inclement season, Lady Annabel persuaded Mrs. Cadurcis to pass
+the whole week at the hall. This arrangement gave such pleasure to
+Plantagenet that the walls of the abbey, as the old postchaise was
+preparing for their journey, quite resounded with his merriment. In
+vain his mother, harassed with all the mysteries of packing, indulged
+in a thousand irritable expressions, which at any other time might
+have produced a broil or even a fray; Cadurcis did nothing but laugh.
+There was at the bottom of this boy's heart, with all his habitual
+gravity and reserve, a fund of humour which would occasionally break
+out, and which nothing could withstand. When he was alone with
+Venetia, he would imitate the old maids of Morpeth, and all the
+ceremonies of a provincial tea party, with so much life and genuine
+fun, that Venetia was often obliged to stop in their rambles to
+indulge her overwhelming mirth. When they were alone, and he was
+gloomy, she was often accustomed to say, 'Now, dear Plantagenet, tell
+me how the old ladies at Morpeth drink tea.'
+
+This morning at the abbey, Cadurcis was irresistible, and the more
+excited his mother became with the difficulties which beset her, the
+more gay and fluent were his quips and cranks. Puffing, panting,
+and perspiring, now directing her waiting-woman, now scolding her
+man-servant, and now ineffectually attempting to box her son's ears,
+Mrs. Cadurcis indeed offered a most ridiculous spectacle.
+
+'John!' screamed Mrs. Cadurcis, in a voice of bewildered passion, and
+stamping with rage, 'is that the place for my cap-box? You do it on
+purpose, that you do!'
+
+'John,' mimicked Lord Cadurcis, 'how dare you do it on purpose?'
+
+'Take that, you brat,' shrieked the mother, and she struck her own
+hand against the doorway. 'Oh! I'll give it you, I'll give it you,'
+she bellowed under the united influence of rage and pain, and she
+pursued her agile child, who dodged her on the other side of the
+postchaise, which he persisted in calling the family carriage.
+
+'Oh! ma'am, my lady,' exclaimed the waiting-woman, sallying forth from
+the abbey, 'what is to be done with the parrot when we are away? Mrs.
+Brown says she won't see to it, that she won't; 'taynt her place.'
+
+This rebellion of Mrs. Brown was a diversion in favour of Plantagenet.
+Mrs. Cadurcis waddled down the cloisters with precipitation, rushed
+into the kitchen, seized the surprised Mrs. Brown by the shoulder, and
+gave her a good shake; and darting at the cage, which held the parrot,
+she bore it in triumph to the carriage. 'I will take the bird with
+me,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'We cannot take the bird inside, madam,' said Plantagenet, 'for it
+will overhear all our conversation, and repeat it. We shall not be
+able to abuse our friends.'
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis threw the cage at her son's head, who, for the sake of
+the bird, dexterously caught it, but declared at the same time he
+would immediately throw it into the lake. Then Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+cry with rage, and, seating herself on the open steps of the chaise,
+sobbed hysterically. Plantagenet stole round on tip-toe, and peeped
+in her face: 'A merry Christmas and a happy new year, Mrs. Cadurcis,'
+said her son.
+
+'How can I be merry and happy, treated as I am?' sobbed the mother.
+'You do not treat Lady Annabel so. Oh! no; it is only your mother whom
+you use in this manner! Go to Cherbury. Go by all means, but go by
+yourself; I shall not go: go to your friends, Lord Cadurcis; they are
+your friends, not mine, and I hope they are satisfied, now that they
+have robbed me of the affections of my child. I have seen what they
+have been after all this time. I am not so blind as some people think.
+No! I see how it is. I am nobody. Your poor mother, who brought you
+up, and educated you, is nobody. This is the end of all your Latin and
+French, and your fine lessons. Honour your father and your mother,
+Lord Cadurcis; that's a finer lesson than all. Oh! oh! oh!'
+
+This allusion to the Herberts suddenly calmed Plantagenet. He felt in
+an instant the injudiciousness of fostering by his conduct the latent
+jealousy which always lurked at the bottom of his mother's heart, and
+which nothing but the united talent and goodness of Lady Annabel could
+have hitherto baffled. So he rejoined in a kind yet playful tone, 'If
+you will be good, I will give you a kiss for a Christmas-box, mother;
+and the parrot shall go inside if you like.'
+
+'The parrot may stay at home, I do not care about it: but I cannot
+bear quarrelling; it is not my temper, you naughty, very naughty boy.'
+
+'My dear mother,' continued his lordship, in a soothing tone, 'these
+scenes always happen when people are going to travel. I assure you it
+is quite a part of packing up.'
+
+'You will be the death of me, that you will,' said the mother, 'with
+all your violence. You are worse than your father, that you are.'
+
+'Come, mother,' said her son, drawing nearer, and just touching her
+shoulder with his hand, 'will you not have my Christmas-box?'
+
+The mother extended her cheek, which the son slightly touched with his
+lip, and then Mrs. Cadurcis jumped up as lively as ever, called for a
+glass of Mountain, and began rating the footboy.
+
+At length the postchaise was packed; they had a long journey before
+them, because Cadurcis would go round by Southport, to call upon a
+tradesman whom a month before he had commissioned to get a trinket
+made for him in London, according to the newest fashion, as a present
+for Venetia. The commission was executed; Mrs. Cadurcis, who had been
+consulted in confidence by her son on the subject, was charmed with
+the result of their united taste. She had good-naturedly contributed
+one of her own few, but fine, emeralds to the gift; upon the back of
+the brooch was engraved:--
+
+    TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.
+
+'I hope she will be a sister, and more than a sister, to you,' said
+Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'Why?' inquired her son, rather confused.
+
+'You may look farther, and fare worse,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+Plantagenet blushed; and yet he wondered why he blushed: he understood
+his mother, but he could not pursue the conversation; his heart
+fluttered.
+
+A most cordial greeting awaited them at Cherbury; Dr. Masham was
+there, and was to remain until Monday. Mrs. Cadurcis would have opened
+about the present immediately, but her son warned her on the threshold
+that if she said a word about it, or seemed to be aware of its
+previous existence, even when it was shown, he would fling it
+instantly away into the snow; and her horror of this catastrophe
+bridled her tongue. Mrs. Cadurcis, however, was happy, and Lady
+Annabel was glad to see her so; the Doctor, too, paid her some
+charming compliments; the good lady was in the highest spirits, for
+she was always in extremes, and at this moment she would willingly
+have laid down her life if she had thought the sacrifice could have
+contributed to the welfare of the Herberts.
+
+Cadurcis himself drew Venetia aside, and then, holding the brooch
+reversed, he said, with rather a confused air, 'Read that, Venetia.'
+
+'Oh! Plantagenet!' she said, very much astonished.
+
+'You see, Venetia,' he added, leaving it in her hand, 'it is yours.'
+
+Venetia turned the jewel; her eye was dazzled with its brilliancy.
+
+'It is too grand for a little girl, Plantagenet,' she exclaimed, a
+little pale.
+
+'No, it is not,' said Plantagenet, firmly; 'besides, you will not
+always be a little girl; and then, if ever we do not live together as
+we do now, you will always remember you have a brother.'
+
+'I must show it mamma; I must ask her permission to take it,
+Plantagenet.'
+
+Venetia went up to her mother, who was talking to Mrs. Cadurcis. She
+had not courage to speak before that lady and Dr. Masham, so she
+called her mother aside.
+
+'Mamma,' she said, 'something has happened.'
+
+'What, my dear?' said Lady Annabel, somewhat surprised at the
+seriousness of her tone.
+
+'Look at this, mamma!' said Venetia, giving her the brooch.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at the jewel, and read the inscription. It was
+a more precious offering than the mother would willingly have
+sanctioned, but she was too highly bred, and too thoughtful of the
+feelings of others, to hesitate for a moment to admire it herself, and
+authorise its acceptance by her daughter. So she walked up to Cadurcis
+and gave him a mother's embrace for his magnificent present to his
+sister, placed the brooch itself near Venetia's heart, and then led
+her daughter to Mrs. Cadurcis, that the gratified mother might
+admire the testimony of her son's taste and affection. It was a most
+successful present, and Cadurcis felt grateful to his mother for her
+share in its production, and the very proper manner in which she
+received the announcement of its offering.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+This was Christmas Eve; the snow was falling briskly. After dinner
+they were glad to cluster round the large fire in the green
+drawing-room. Dr. Masham had promised to read the evening service in
+the chapel, which was now lit up, and the bell was sounding, that the
+cottagers might have the opportunity of attending.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia followed the elders to the chapel; they walked
+hand-in-hand down the long galleries.
+
+'I should like to go all over this house,' said Plantagenet to his
+companion. 'Have you ever been?'
+
+'Never,' said Venetia; 'half of it is shut up. Nobody ever goes into
+it, except mamma.'
+
+In the night there was a violent snowstorm; not only was the fall
+extremely heavy, but the wind was so high, that it carried the snow
+off the hills, and all the roads were blocked up, in many places
+ten or twelve feet deep. All communication was stopped. This was an
+adventure that amused the children, though the rest looked rather
+grave. Plantagenet expressed to Venetia his wish that the snow would
+never melt, and that they might remain at Cherbury for ever.
+
+The children were to have a holiday this week, and they had planned
+some excursions in the park and neighbourhood, but now they were all
+prisoners to the house. They wandered about, turning the staircase
+into mountains, the great hall into an ocean, and the different rooms
+into so many various regions. They amused themselves with their
+adventures, and went on endless voyages of discovery. Every moment
+Plantagenet longed still more for the opportunity of exploring the
+uninhabited chambers; but Venetia shook her head, because she was sure
+Lady Annabel would not grant them permission.
+
+'Did you ever live at any place before you came to Cherbury?' inquired
+Lord Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I know I was not born here,' said Venetia; 'but I was so young that I
+have no recollection of any other place.'
+
+'And did any one live here before you came?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'I do not know,' said Venetia; 'I never heard if anybody did. I, I,'
+she continued, a little constrained, 'I know nothing.'
+
+'Do you remember your papa?' said Plantagenet.
+
+'No,' said Venetia.
+
+'Then he must have died almost as soon as you were born, said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose he must,' said Venetia, and her heart trembled.
+
+'I wonder if he ever lived here!' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Mamma does not like me to ask questions about my papa,' said Venetia,
+'and I cannot tell you anything.'
+
+'Ah! your papa was different from mine, Venetia,' said Cadurcis; 'my
+mother talks of him often enough. They did not agree very well; and,
+when we quarrel, she always says I remind her of him. I dare say Lady
+Annabel loved your papa very much.'
+
+'I am sure mamma did,' replied Venetia.
+
+The children returned to the drawing-room, and joined their friends:
+Mrs. Cadurcis was sitting on the sofa, occasionally dozing over a
+sermon; Dr. Masham was standing with Lady Annabel in the recess of
+a distant window. Her ladyship's countenance was averted; she was
+reading a newspaper, which the Doctor had given her. As the door
+opened, Lady Annabel glanced round; her countenance was agitated; she
+folded up the newspaper rather hastily, and gave it to the Doctor.
+
+'And what have you been doing, little folks?' inquired the Doctor of
+the new comers.
+
+'We have been playing at the history of Rome,' said Venetia, 'and now
+that we have conquered every place, we do not know what to do.'
+
+'The usual result of conquest,' said the Doctor, smiling.
+
+'This snowstorm is a great trial for you; I begin to believe that,
+after all, you would be more pleased to take your holidays at another
+opportunity.'
+
+'We could amuse ourselves very well,' said Plantagenet, 'if Lady
+Annabel would be so kind as to permit us to explore the part of the
+house that is shut up.'
+
+'That would be a strange mode of diversion,' said Lady Annabel,
+quietly, 'and I do not think by any means a suitable one. There cannot
+be much amusement in roaming over a number of dusty unfurnished
+rooms.'
+
+'And so nicely dressed as you are too!' said Mrs. Cadurcis, rousing
+herself: 'I wonder how such an idea could enter your head!'
+
+'It snows harder than ever,' said Venetia; 'I think, after all, I
+shall learn my French vocabulary.'
+
+'If it snows to-morrow,' said Plantagenet, 'we will do our lessons as
+usual. Holidays, I find, are not so amusing as I supposed.'
+
+The snow did continue, and the next day the children voluntarily
+suggested that they should resume their usual course of life. With
+their mornings occupied, they found their sources of relaxation ample;
+and in the evening they acted plays, and Lady Annabel dressed them up
+in her shawls, and Dr. Masham read Shakspeare to them.
+
+It was about the fourth day of the visit that Plantagenet, loitering
+in the hall with Venetia, said to her, 'I saw your mamma go into the
+locked-up rooms last night. I do so wish that she would let us go
+there.'
+
+'Last night!' said Venetia; 'when could you have seen her last night?'
+
+'Very late: the fact is, I could not sleep, and I took it into my head
+to walk up and down the gallery. I often do so at the abbey. I like to
+walk up and down an old gallery alone at night. I do not know why; but
+I like it very much. Everything is so still, and then you hear the
+owls. I cannot make out why it is; but nothing gives me more pleasure
+than to get up when everybody is asleep. It seems as if one were the
+only living person in the world. I sometimes think, when I am a man, I
+will always get up in the night, and go to bed in the daytime. Is not
+that odd?'
+
+'But mamma!' said Venetia, 'how came you to see mamma?'
+
+'Oh! I am certain of it,' said the boy; 'for, to tell you the truth, I
+was rather frightened at first; only I thought it would not do for a
+Cadurcis to be afraid, so I stood against the wall, in the shade, and
+I was determined, whatever happened, not to cry out.'
+
+'Oh! you frighten me so, Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! you might well have been frightened if you had been there; past
+midnight, a tall white figure, and a light! However, there is nothing
+to be alarmed about; it was Lady Annabel, nobody else. I saw her as
+clearly as I see you now. She walked along the gallery, and went to
+the very door you showed me the other morning. I marked the door; I
+could not mistake it. She unlocked it, and she went in.'
+
+'And then?' inquired Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'Why, then, like a fool, I went back to bed,' said Plantagenet. 'I
+thought it would seem so silly if I were caught, and I might not have
+had the good fortune to escape twice. I know no more.'
+
+Venetia could not reply. She heard a laugh, and then her mother's
+voice. They were called with a gay summons to see a colossal
+snow-ball, that some of the younger servants had made and rolled to
+the window of the terrace-room. It was ornamented with a crown of
+holly and mistletoe, and the parti-coloured berries looked bright in a
+straggling sunbeam which had fought its way through the still-loaded
+sky, and fell upon the terrace.
+
+In the evening, as they sat round the fire, Mrs. Cadurcis began
+telling Venetia a long rambling ghost story, which she declared was
+a real ghost story, and had happened in her own family. Such
+communications were not very pleasing to Lady Annabel, but she was too
+well bred to interrupt her guest. When, however, the narrative was
+finished, and Venetia, by her observations, evidently indicated
+the effect that it had produced upon her mind, her mother took the
+occasion of impressing upon her the little credibility which should
+be attached to such legends, and the rational process by which many
+unquestionable apparitions might be accounted for. Dr. Masham,
+following this train, recounted a story of a ghost which had been
+generally received in a neighbouring village for a considerable
+period, and attested by the most veracious witnesses, but which was
+explained afterwards by turning out to be an instance of somnambulism.
+Venetia appeared to be extremely interested in the subject; she
+inquired much about sleep-walkers and sleepwalking; and a great many
+examples of the habit were cited. At length she said, 'Mamma, did you
+ever walk in your sleep?'
+
+'Not to my knowledge,' said Lady Annabel, smiling; 'I should hope
+not.'
+
+'Well, do you know,' said Plantagenet, who had hitherto listened in
+silence, 'it is very curious, but I once dreamt that you did, Lady
+Annabel.'
+
+'Indeed!' said the lady.
+
+'Yes! and I dreamt it last night, too,' continued Cadurcis. 'I thought
+I was sleeping in the uninhabited rooms here, and the door opened, and
+you walked in with a light.'
+
+'No! Plantagenet,' said Venetia, who was seated by him, and who spoke
+in a whisper, 'it was not--'
+
+'Hush!' said Cadurcis, in a low voice.
+
+'Well, that was a strange dream,' said Mrs. Cadurcis; 'was it not,
+Doctor?'
+
+'Now, children, I will tell you a very curious story,' said the
+Doctor; 'and it is quite a true one, for it happened to myself.'
+
+The Doctor was soon embarked in his tale, and his audience speedily
+became interested in the narrative; but Lady Annabel for some time
+maintained complete silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The spring returned; the intimate relations between the two families
+were each day more confirmed. Lady Annabel had presented her daughter
+and Plantagenet each with a beautiful pony, but their rides were at
+first to be confined to the park, and to be ever attended by a groom.
+In time, however, duly accompanied, they were permitted to extend
+their progress so far as Cadurcis. Mrs. Cadurcis had consented to
+the wishes of her son to restore the old garden, and Venetia was his
+principal adviser and assistant in the enterprise. Plantagenet was
+fond of the abbey, and nothing but the agreeable society of Cherbury
+on the one hand, and the relief of escaping from his mother on the
+other, could have induced him to pass so little of his time at home;
+but, with Venetia for his companion, his mornings at the abbey passed
+charmingly, and, as the days were now at their full length again,
+there was abundance of time, after their studies at Cherbury, to ride
+together through the woods to Cadurcis, spend several hours there, and
+for Venetia to return to the hall before sunset. Plantagenet always
+accompanied her to the limits of the Cherbury grounds, and then
+returned by himself, solitary and full of fancies.
+
+Lady Annabel had promised the children that they should some day
+ride together to Marringhurst, the rectory of Dr. Masham, to eat
+strawberries and cream. This was to be a great festival, and was
+looked forward to with corresponding interest. Her ladyship had kindly
+offered to accompany Mrs. Cadurcis in the carriage, but that lady was
+an invalid and declined the journey; so Lady Annabel, who was herself
+a good horsewoman, mounted her jennet with Venetia and Plantagenet.
+
+Marringhurst was only five miles from Cherbury by a cross-road,
+which was scarcely passable for carriages. The rectory house was a
+substantial, square-built, red brick mansion, shaded by gigantic elms,
+but the southern front covered with a famous vine, trained over it
+with elaborate care, and of which, and his espaliers, the Doctor was
+very proud. The garden was thickly stocked with choice fruit-trees;
+there was not the slightest pretence to pleasure grounds; but there
+was a capital bowling-green, and, above all, a grotto, where the
+Doctor smoked his evening pipe, and moralised in the midst of his
+cucumbers and cabbages. On each side extended the meadows of his
+glebe, where his kine ruminated at will. It was altogether a scene as
+devoid of the picturesque as any that could be well imagined; flat,
+but not low, and rich, and green, and still.
+
+His expected guests met as warm a reception as such a hearty friend
+might be expected to afford. Dr. Masham was scarcely less delighted at
+the excursion than the children themselves, and rejoiced in the sunny
+day that made everything more glad and bright. The garden, the grotto,
+the bowling-green, and all the novelty of the spot, greatly diverted
+his young companions; they visited his farmyard, were introduced to
+his poultry, rambled over his meadows, and admired his cows, which he
+had collected with equal care and knowledge. Nor was the interior of
+this bachelor's residence devoid of amusement. Every nook and corner
+was filled with objects of interest; and everything was in admirable
+order. The goddess of neatness and precision reigned supreme,
+especially in his hall, which, though barely ten feet square, was a
+cabinet of rural curiosities. His guns, his fishing-tackle, a cabinet
+of birds stuffed by himself, a fox in a glass-case that seemed
+absolutely running, and an otter with a real fish in its mouth, in
+turn delighted them; but chiefly, perhaps, his chimney-corner of Dutch
+tiles, all Scriptural subjects, which Venetia and Plantagenet emulated
+each other in discovering.
+
+Then his library, which was rare and splendid, for the Doctor was one
+of the most renowned scholars in the kingdom, and his pictures, his
+prints, and his gold fish, and his canary birds; it seemed they never
+could exhaust such sources of endless amusement; to say nothing of
+every other room in the house, for, from the garret to the dairy,
+his guests encouraged him in introducing them to every thing, every
+person, and every place.
+
+'And this is the way we old bachelors contrive to pass our lives,'
+said the good Doctor; 'and now, my dear lady, Goody Blount will give
+us some dinner.'
+
+The Doctor's repast was a substantial one; he seemed resolved, at one
+ample swoop, to repay Lady Annabel for all her hospitality; and he
+really took such delight in their participation of it, that his
+principal guest was constrained to check herself in more than one
+warning intimation that moderation was desirable, were it only for the
+sake of the strawberries and cream. All this time his housekeeper,
+Goody Blount, as he called her, in her lace cap and ruffles, as
+precise and starch as an old picture, stood behind his chair with
+pleased solemnity, directing, with unruffled composure, the movements
+of the liveried bumpkin who this day was promoted to the honour of
+'waiting at table.'
+
+'Come,' said the Doctor, as the cloth was cleared, 'I must bargain for
+one toast, Lady Annabel: "Church and State."'
+
+'What is Church and State?' said Venetia.
+
+'As good things. Miss Venetia, as strawberries and cream,' said the
+Doctor, laughing; 'and, like them, always best united.'
+
+After their repast, the children went into the garden to amuse
+themselves. They strolled about some time, until Plantagenet at length
+took it into his head that he should like to learn to play at bowls;
+and he said, if Venetia would wait in the grotto, where they then were
+talking, he would run back and ask the Doctor if the servant might
+teach him. He was not long absent; but appeared, on his return, a
+little agitated. Venetia inquired if he had been successful, but he
+shook his head, and said he had not asked.
+
+'Why did you not?' said Venetia.
+
+'I did not like,' he replied, looking very serious; 'something
+happened.'
+
+'What could have happened?' said Venetia.
+
+'Something strange,' was his answer.
+
+'Oh, do tell me, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Why,' said he, in a low voice, 'your mamma is crying.'
+
+'Crying!' exclaimed Venetia; 'my dear mamma crying! I must go to her
+directly.'
+
+'Hush!' said Plantagenet, shaking his head, 'you must not go.'
+
+'I must.'
+
+'No, you must not go, Venetia,' was his reply; 'I am sure she does not
+want us to know she is crying.'
+
+'What did she say to you?'
+
+'She did not see me; the Doctor did, and he gave me a nod to go away.'
+
+'I never saw mamma cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'Don't you say anything about it, Venetia,' said Plantagenet, with a
+manly air; 'listen to what I say.'
+
+'I do, Plantagenet, always; but still I should like to know what mamma
+can be crying about. Do tell me all about it.'
+
+'Why, I came to the room by the open windows, and your mamma was
+standing up, with her back to me, and leaning on the mantel-piece,
+with her face in her handkerchief; and the Doctor was standing up too,
+only his back was to the fireplace; and when he saw me, he made me a
+sign to go away, and I went directly.'
+
+'Are you sure mamma was crying?'
+
+'I heard her sob.'
+
+'I think I shall cry,' said Venetia.
+
+'You must not; you must know nothing about it. If you let your mamma
+know that I saw her crying, I shall never tell you anything again.'
+
+'What do you think she was crying about, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I cannot say; perhaps she had been talking about your papa. I do not
+want to play at bowls now,' added Plantagenet; 'let us go and see the
+cows.'
+
+In the course of half an hour the servant summoned the children to
+the house. The horses were ready, and they were now to return. Lady
+Annabel received them with her usual cheerfulness.
+
+'Well, dear children,' said she, 'have you been very much amused?'
+
+Venetia ran forward, and embraced her mother with even unusual
+fondness. She was mindful of Plantagenet's injunctions, and was
+resolved not to revive her mother's grief by any allusion that could
+recall the past; but her heart was, nevertheless, full of sympathy,
+and she could not have rode home, had she not thus expressed her love
+for her mother.
+
+With the exception of this strange incident, over which, afterwards,
+Venetia often pondered, and which made her rather serious the whole of
+the ride home, this expedition to Marringhurst was a very happy day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+This happy summer was succeeded by a singularly wet autumn. Weeks of
+continuous rain rendered it difficult even for the little Cadurcis,
+who defied the elements, to be so constant as heretofore in his daily
+visits to Cherbury. His mother, too, grew daily a greater invalid,
+and, with increasing sufferings and infirmities, the natural
+captiousness of her temper proportionally exhibited itself. She
+insisted upon the companionship of her son, and that he should not
+leave the house in such unseasonable weather. If he resisted, she fell
+into one of her jealous rages, and taunted him with loving strangers
+better than his own mother. Cadurcis, on the whole, behaved very well;
+he thought of Lady Annabel's injunctions, and restrained his passion.
+Yet he was not repaid for the sacrifice; his mother made no effort
+to render their joint society agreeable, or even endurable. She was
+rarely in an amiable mood, and generally either irritable or sullen.
+If the weather held up a little, and he ventured to pay a visit to
+Cherbury, he was sure to be welcomed back with a fit of passion;
+either Mrs. Cadurcis was angered for being left alone, or had
+fermented herself into fury by the certainty of his catching a fever.
+If Plantagenet remained at the abbey, she was generally sullen; and,
+as he himself was naturally silent under any circumstances, his mother
+would indulge in that charming monologue, so conducive to domestic
+serenity, termed 'talking at a person,' and was continually
+insinuating that she supposed he found it very dull to pass his day
+with her, and that she dared say that somebody could be lively enough
+if he were somewhere else.
+
+Cadurcis would turn pale, and bite his lip, and then leave the room;
+and whole days would sometimes pass with barely a monosyllable being
+exchanged between this parent and child. Cadurcis had found some
+opportunities of pouring forth his griefs and mortification into the
+ear of Venetia, and they had reached her mother; but Lady Annabel,
+though she sympathised with this interesting boy, invariably
+counselled duty. The morning studies were abandoned, but a quantity of
+books were sent over from Cherbury for Plantagenet, and Lady Annabel
+seized every opportunity of conciliating Mrs. Cadurcis' temper in
+favour of her child, by the attention which she paid the mother. The
+weather, however, prevented either herself or Venetia from visiting
+the abbey; and, on the whole, the communications between the two
+establishments and their inmates had become rare.
+
+Though now a continual inmate of the abbey, Cadurcis was seldom the
+companion of his mother. They met at their meals, and that was all. He
+entered the room every day with an intention of conciliating; but the
+mutual tempers of the mother and the son were so quick and sensitive,
+that he always failed in his purpose, and could only avoid a storm
+by dogged silence. This enraged Mrs. Cadurcis more even than his
+impertinence; she had no conduct; she lost all command over herself,
+and did not hesitate to address to her child terms of reproach and
+abuse, which a vulgar mind could only conceive, and a coarse tongue
+alone express. What a contrast to Cherbury, to the mild maternal
+elegance and provident kindness of Lady Annabel, and the sweet tones
+of Venetia's ever-sympathising voice. Cadurcis, though so young, was
+gifted with an innate fastidiousness, that made him shrink from a rude
+woman. His feelings were different in regard to men; he sympathised at
+a very early age with the bold and the energetic; his favourites among
+the peasantry were ever those who excelled in athletic sports; and,
+though he never expressed the opinion, he did not look upon the
+poacher with the evil eye of his class. But a coarse and violent woman
+jarred even his young nerves; and this woman was his mother, his only
+parent, almost his only relation; for he had no near relative except
+a cousin whom he had never even seen, the penniless orphan of a
+penniless brother of his father, and who had been sent to sea; so
+that, after all, his mother was the only natural friend he had. This
+poor little boy would fly from that mother with a sullen brow, or,
+perhaps, even with a harsh and cutting repartee; and then he would
+lock himself up in his room, and weep. But he allowed no witnesses of
+this weakness. The lad was very proud. If any of the household passed
+by as he quitted the saloon, and stared for a moment at his pale and
+agitated face, he would coin a smile for the instant, and say even a
+kind word, for he was very courteous to his inferiors, and all the
+servants loved him, and then take refuge in his solitary woe.
+
+Relieved by this indulgence of his mortified heart, Cadurcis looked
+about him for resources. The rain was pouring in torrents, and the
+plash of the troubled and swollen lake might be heard even at the
+abbey. At night the rising gusts of wind, for the nights were always
+clear and stormy, echoed down the cloisters with a wild moan to which
+he loved to listen. In the morning he beheld with interest the savage
+spoils of the tempest; mighty branches of trees strewn about,
+and sometimes a vast trunk uprooted from its ancient settlement.
+Irresistibly the conviction impressed itself upon his mind that, if
+he were alone in this old abbey, with no mother to break that strange
+fountain of fancies that seemed always to bubble up in his solitude,
+he might be happy. He wanted no companions; he loved to be alone, to
+listen to the winds, and gaze upon the trees and waters, and wander in
+those dim cloisters and that gloomy gallery.
+
+From the first hour of his arrival he had loved the venerable hall of
+his fathers. Its appearance harmonised with all the associations of
+his race. Power and pomp, ancestral fame, the legendary respect of
+ages, all that was great, exciting, and heroic, all that was marked
+out from the commonplace current of human events, hovered round him.
+In the halls of Cadurcis he was the Cadurcis; though a child, he was
+keenly sensible of his high race; his whole being sympathised with
+their glory; he was capable of dying sooner than of disgracing them;
+and then came the memory of his mother's sharp voice and harsh vulgar
+words, and he shivered with disgust.
+
+Forced into solitude, forced to feed upon his own mind, Cadurcis found
+in that solitude each day a dearer charm, and in that mind a richer
+treasure of interest and curiosity. He loved to wander about, dream of
+the past, and conjure up a future as glorious. What was he to be? What
+should be his career? Whither should he wend his course? Even at this
+early age, dreams of far lands flitted over his mind; and schemes of
+fantastic and adventurous life. But now he was a boy, a wretched boy,
+controlled by a vulgar and narrow-minded woman! And this servitude
+must last for years; yes! years must elapse before he was his own
+master. Oh! if he could only pass them alone, without a human voice to
+disturb his musings, a single form to distract his vision!
+
+Under the influence of such feelings, even Cherbury figured to his
+fancy in somewhat faded colours. There, indeed, he was loved and
+cherished; there, indeed, no sound was ever heard, no sight ever seen,
+that could annoy or mortify the high pitch of his unconscious ideal;
+but still, even at Cherbury, he was a child. Under the influence
+of daily intercourse, his tender heart had balanced, perhaps even
+outweighed, his fiery imagination. That constant yet delicate
+affection had softened all his soul: he had no time but to be grateful
+and to love. He returned home only to muse over their sweet society,
+and contrast their refined and gentle life with the harsh rude hearth
+that awaited him. Whatever might be his reception at home, he was
+thrown, back for solace on their memory, not upon his own heart; and
+he felt the delightful conviction that to-morrow would renew the spell
+whose enchantment had enabled him to endure the present vexation. But
+now the magic of that intercourse had ceased; after a few days of
+restlessness and repining, he discovered that he must find in his
+desolation sterner sources of support than the memory of Venetia, and
+the recollections of the domestic joys of Cherbury. It astonishing
+with what rapidity the character of Cadurcis developed itself in
+solitude; and strange was the contrast between the gentle child who,
+a few weeks before, had looked forward with so much interest to
+accompanying Venetia to a childish festival, and the stern and moody
+being who paced the solitary cloisters of Cadurcis, and then would
+withdraw to his lonely chamber and the amusement of a book. He was at
+this time deeply interested in Purchas's Pilgrimage, one of the few
+books of which the late lord had not despoiled him. Narratives of
+travels and voyages always particularly pleased him; he had an idea
+that he was laying up information which might be useful to him
+hereafter; the Cherbury collection was rich in this class of volumes,
+and Lady Annabel encouraged their perusal.
+
+In this way many weeks elapsed at the abbey, during which the visits
+of Plantagenet to Cherbury were very few. Sometimes, if the weather
+cleared for an hour during the morning, he would mount his pony, and
+gallop, without stopping, to the hall. The rapidity of the motion
+excited his mind; he fancied himself, as he embraced Venetia, some
+chieftain who had escaped for a moment from his castle to visit his
+mistress; his imagination conjured up a war between the opposing
+towers of Cadurcis and Cherbury; and when his mother fell into a
+passion on his return, it passed with him only, according to its
+length and spirit, as a brisk skirmish or a general engagement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+One afternoon, on his return from Cherbury, Plantagenet found the fire
+extinguished in the little room which he had appropriated to himself,
+and where he kept his books. As he had expressed his wish to the
+servant that the fire should be kept up, he complained to him of the
+neglect, but was informed, in reply, that the fire had been allowed to
+go out by his mother's orders, and that she desired in future that
+he would always read in the saloon. Plantagenet had sufficient
+self-control to make no observation before the servant, and soon after
+joined his mother, who looked very sullen, as if she were conscious
+that she had laid a train for an explosion.
+
+Dinner was now served, a short and silent meal. Lord Cadurcis did not
+choose to speak because he felt aggrieved, and his mother because
+she was husbanding her energies for the contest which she believed
+impending. At length, when the table was cleared, and the servant
+departed, Cadurcis said in a quiet tone, 'I think I shall write to my
+guardian to-morrow about my going to Eton.'
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, bristling up; 'I
+never heard such a ridiculous idea in my life as a boy like you
+writing letters on such subjects to a person you have never yet seen.
+When I think it proper that you should go to Eton, I shall write.'
+
+'I wish you would think it proper now then, ma'am.'
+
+'I won't be dictated to,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, fiercely.
+
+'I was not dictating,' replied her son, calmly.
+
+'You would if you could,' said his mother.
+
+'Time enough to find fault with me when I do, ma'am.'
+
+'There is enough to find fault about at all times, sir.'
+
+'On which side, Mrs. Cadurcis?' inquired Plantagenet, with a sneer.
+
+'Don't aggravate me, Lord Cadurcis,' said his mother.
+
+'How am I aggravating you, ma'am?'
+
+'I won't be answered,' said the mother.
+
+'I prefer silence myself,' said the son.
+
+'I won't be insulted in my own room, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+
+'I am not insulting you, Mrs. Cadurcis,' said Plantagenet, rather
+fiercely; 'and, as for your own room, I never wish to enter it. Indeed
+I should not be here at this moment, had you not ordered my fire to be
+put out, and particularly requested that I should sit in the saloon.'
+
+'Oh! you are a vastly obedient person, I dare say,' replied Mrs.
+Cadurcis, very pettishly. 'How long, I should like to know, have my
+requests received such particular attention? Pooh!'
+
+'Well, then, I will order my fire to be lighted again,' said
+Plantagenet.
+
+'You shall do no such thing,' said the mother; 'I am mistress in this
+house. No one shall give orders here but me, and you may write to your
+guardian and tell him that, if you like.'
+
+'I shall certainly not write to my guardian for the first time,' said
+Lord Cadurcis, 'about any such nonsense.'
+
+'Nonsense, sir! Nonsense you said, did you? Your mother nonsense! This
+is the way to treat a parent, is it? I am nonsense, am I? I will teach
+you what nonsense is. Nonsense shall be very good sense; you shall
+find that, sir, that you shall. Nonsense, indeed! I'll write to your
+guardian, that I will! You call your mother nonsense, do you? And
+where did you learn that, I should like to know? Nonsense, indeed!
+This comes of your going to Cherbury! So your mother is nonsense; a
+pretty lesson for Lady Annabel to teach you. Oh! I'll speak my mind to
+her, that I will.'
+
+'What has Lady Annabel to do with it?' inquired Cadurcis, in a loud
+tone.
+
+'Don't threaten me, sir,' said Mrs. Cadurcis, with violent gesture.
+'I won't be menaced; I won't be menaced by my son. Pretty goings
+on, indeed! But I will put a stop to them; will I not? that is all.
+Nonsense, indeed; your mother nonsense!'
+
+'Well, you do talk nonsense, and the greatest,' said Plantagenet,
+doggedly; 'you are talking nonsense now, you are always talking
+nonsense, and you never open your mouth about Lady Annabel without
+talking nonsense.'
+
+'If I was not very ill I would give it you,' said his mother, grinding
+her teeth. 'O you brat! You wicked brat, you! Is this the way to
+address me? I have half a mind to shake your viciousness out of you,
+that I have!
+
+You are worse than your father, that you are!' and here she wept with
+rage.
+
+'I dare say my father was not so bad, after all!' said Cadurcis.
+
+'What should you know about your father, sir?' said Mrs. Cadurcis.
+'How dare you speak about your father!'
+
+'Who should speak about a father but a son?'
+
+'Hold your impudence, sir!'
+
+'I am not impudent, ma'am.'
+
+'You aggravating brat!' exclaimed the enraged woman, 'I wish I had
+something to throw at you!'
+
+'Did you throw things at my father?' asked his lordship.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis went into an hysterical rage; then, suddenly jumping up,
+she rushed at her son. Lord Cadurcis took up a position behind
+the table, but the sportive and mocking air which he generally
+instinctively assumed on these occasions, and which, while it
+irritated his mother more, was in reality affected by the boy from a
+sort of nervous desire of preventing these dreadful exposures from
+assuming a too tragic tone, did not characterise his countenance on
+the present occasion; on the contrary, it was pale, but composed and
+very serious. Mrs. Cadurcis, after one or two ineffectual attempts to
+catch him, paused and panted for breath. He took advantage of this
+momentary cessation, and spoke thus, 'Mother, I am in no humour for
+frolics. I moved out of your way that you might not strike me, because
+I have made up my mind that, if you ever strike me again, I will live
+with you no longer. Now, I have given you warning; do what you please;
+I shall sit down in this chair, and not move. If you strike me, you
+know the consequences.' So saying, his lordship resumed his chair.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis simultaneously sprang forward and boxed his ears; and
+then her son rose without the slightest expression of any kind, and
+slowly quitted the chamber.
+
+Mrs. Cadurcis remained alone in a savage sulk; hours passed away, and
+her son never made his appearance. Then she rang the bell, and ordered
+the servant to tell Lord Cadurcis that tea was ready; but the servant
+returned, and reported that his lordship had locked himself up in his
+room, and would not reply to his inquiries. Determined not to give in,
+Mrs. Cadurcis, at length, retired for the night, rather regretting her
+violence, but still sullen. Having well scolded her waiting-woman, she
+at length fell asleep.
+
+The morning brought breakfast, but no Lord Cadurcis; in vain were all
+the messages of his mother, her son would make no reply to them. Mrs.
+Cadurcis, at length, personally repaired to his room and knocked at
+the door, but she was as unsuccessful as the servants; she began to
+think he would starve, and desired the servant to offer from himself
+to bring his meal. Still silence. Indignant at his treatment of these
+overtures of conciliation, Mrs. Cadurcis returned to the saloon,
+confident that hunger, if no other impulse, would bring her wild cub
+out of his lair; but, just before dinner, her waiting-woman came
+running into the room.
+
+'Oh, ma'am, ma'am, I don't know where Lord Cadurcis has gone; but I
+have just seen John, and he says there was no pony in the stable this
+morning.'
+
+'Mrs. Cadurcis sprang up, rushed to her son's chamber, found the door
+still locked, ordered it to be burst open, and then it turned out that
+his lordship had never been there at all, for the bed was unused. Mrs.
+Cadurcis was frightened out of her life; the servants, to console
+her, assured her that Plantagenet must be at Cherbury; and while she
+believed their representations, which were probable, she became not
+only more composed, but resumed her jealousy and sullenness. 'Gone
+to Cherbury, indeed! No doubt of it! Let him remain at Cherbury.'
+Execrating Lady Annabel, she flung herself into an easy chair, and
+dined alone, preparing herself to speak her mind on her son's return.
+
+The night, however, did not bring him, and Mrs. Cadurcis began to
+recur to her alarm. Much as she now disliked Lady Annabel, she
+could not resist the conviction that her ladyship would not permit
+Plantagenet to remain at Cherbury. Nevertheless, jealous, passionate,
+and obstinate, she stifled her fears, vented her spleen on her unhappy
+domestics, and, finally, exhausting herself by a storm of passion
+about some very unimportant subject, again sought refuge in sleep.
+
+She awoke early in a fright, and inquired immediately for her son.
+He had not been seen. She ordered the abbey bell to be sounded, sent
+messengers throughout the demesne, and directed all the offices to
+be searched. At first she thought he must have returned, and slept,
+perhaps in a barn; then she adopted the more probable conclusion, that
+he had drowned himself in the lake. Then she went into hysterics;
+called Plantagenet her lost darling; declared he was the best and most
+dutiful of sons, and the image of his poor father, then abused all the
+servants, and then abused herself.
+
+About noon she grew quite distracted, and rushed about the house
+with her hair dishevelled, and in a dressing-gown, looked in all the
+closets, behind the screens, under the chairs, into her work-box, but,
+strange to say, with no success. Then she went off into a swoon, and
+her servants, alike frightened about master and mistress, mother and
+son, dispatched a messenger immediately to Cherbury for intelligence,
+advice, and assistance. In less than an hour's time the messenger
+returned, and informed them that Lord Cadurcis had not been at
+Cherbury since two days back, but that Lady Annabel was very sorry
+to hear that their mistress was so ill, and would come on to see her
+immediately. In the meantime, Lady Annabel added that she had sent
+to Dr. Masham, and had great hopes that Lord Cadurcis was at
+Marringhurst. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had now come to, as her waiting-woman
+described the returning consciousness of her mistress, eagerly
+embraced the hope held out of Plantagenet being at Marringhurst,
+poured forth a thousand expressions of gratitude, admiration, and
+affection for Lady Annabel, who, she declared, was her best, her only
+friend, and the being in the world whom she loved most, next to her
+unhappy and injured child.
+
+After another hour of suspense Lady Annabel arrived, and her entrance
+was the signal for a renewed burst of hysterics from Mrs. Cadurcis, so
+wild and terrible that they must have been contagious to any female of
+less disciplined emotions than her guest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Towards evening Dr. Masham arrived at Cadurcis. He could give no
+intelligence of Plantagenet, who had not called at Marringhurst; but
+he offered, and was prepared, to undertake his pursuit. The good
+Doctor had his saddle-bags well stocked, and was now on his way to
+Southport, that being the nearest town, and where he doubted not
+to gain some tidings of the fugitive. Mrs. Cadurcis he found so
+indisposed, that he anticipated the charitable intentions of Lady
+Annabel not to quit her; and after having bid them place their
+confidence in Providence and his humble exertions, he at once departed
+on his researches.
+
+In the meantime let us return to the little lord himself. Having
+secured the advantage of a long start, by the device of turning the
+key of his chamber, he repaired to the stables, and finding no one
+to observe him, saddled his pony and galloped away without plan or
+purpose. An instinctive love of novelty and adventure induced him to
+direct his course by a road which he had never before pursued; and,
+after two or three miles progress through a wild open country of
+brushwood, he found that he had entered that considerable forest which
+formed the boundary of many of the views from Cadurcis. The afternoon
+was clear and still, the sun shining in the light blue sky, and the
+wind altogether hushed. On each side of the winding road spread the
+bright green turf, occasionally shaded by picturesque groups of
+doddered oaks. The calm beauty of the sylvan scene wonderfully touched
+the fancy of the youthful fugitive; it soothed and gratified him. He
+pulled up his pony; patted its lively neck, as if in gratitude for
+its good service, and, confident that he could not be successfully
+pursued, indulged in a thousand dreams of Robin Hood and his merry
+men. As for his own position and prospects, he gave himself no anxiety
+about them: satisfied with his escape from a revolting thraldom, his
+mind seemed to take a bound from the difficulty of his situation and
+the wildness of the scene, and he felt himself a man, and one, too,
+whom nothing could daunt or appal.
+
+Soon the road itself quite disappeared and vanished in a complete
+turfy track; but the continuing marks of cartwheels assured him that
+it was a thoroughfare, although he was now indeed journeying in the
+heart of a forest of oaks and he doubted not it would lead to some
+town or village, or at any rate to some farmhouse. Towards sunset, he
+determined to make use of the remaining light, and pushed on apace;
+but it soon grew so dark, that he found it necessary to resume his
+walking pace, from fear of the overhanging branches and the trunks of
+felled trees which occasionally crossed his way.
+
+Notwithstanding the probable prospect of passing his night in the
+forest, our little adventurer did not lose heart. Cadurcis was an
+intrepid child, and when in the company of those with whom he was not
+familiar, and free from those puerile associations to which those who
+had known and lived with him long were necessarily subject, he would
+assume a staid and firm demeanour unusual with one of such tender
+years. A light in the distance was now not only a signal that
+the shelter he desired was at hand, but reminded him that it was
+necessary, by his assured port, to prove that he was not unused to
+travel alone, and that he was perfectly competent and qualified to be
+his own master.
+
+As he drew nearer, the lights multiplied, and the moon, which now rose
+over the forest, showed to him that the trees, retiring on both sides
+to some little distance, left a circular plot of ground, on which were
+not only the lights which had at first attracted his attention, but
+the red flames of a watch-fire, round which some dark figures had
+hitherto been clustered. The sound of horses' feet had disturbed them,
+and the fire was now more and more visible. As Cadurcis approached, he
+observed some low tents, and in a few minutes he was in the centre of
+an encampment of gipsies. He was for a moment somewhat dismayed, for
+he had been brought up with the usual terror of these wild people;
+nevertheless, he was not unequal to the occasion. He was surrounded in
+an instant, but only with women and children; for the gipsy-men never
+immediately appear. They smiled with their bright eyes, and the flames
+of the watch-fire threw a lurid glow over their dark and flashing
+countenances; they held out their practised hands; they uttered
+unintelligible, but not unfriendly sounds. The heart of Cadurcis
+faltered, but his voice did not betray him.
+
+'I am cold, good people,' said the undaunted boy; 'will you let me
+warm myself by your fire?'
+
+A beautiful girl, with significant gestures, pressed her hand to her
+heart, then pointed in the direction of the tents, and then rushed
+away, soon reappearing with a short thin man, inclining to middle age,
+but of a compact and apparently powerful frame, lithe, supple, and
+sinewy. His complexion was dark, but clear; his eye large, liquid, and
+black; but his other features small, though precisely moulded. He wore
+a green jacket and a pair of black velvet breeches, his legs and feet
+being bare, with the exception of slippers. Round his head was twisted
+a red handkerchief, which, perhaps, might not have looked like a
+turban on a countenance less oriental.
+
+'What would the young master?' inquired the gipsy-man, in a voice far
+from disagreeable, and with a gesture of courtesy; but, at the same
+time, he shot a scrutinising glance first at Plantagenet, and then at
+his pony.
+
+'I would remain with you,' said Cadurcis; 'that is, if you will let
+me.'
+
+The gipsy-man made a sign to the women, and Plantagenet was lifted
+by them off his pony, before he could be aware of their purpose; the
+children led the pony away, and the gipsy-man conducted Plantagenet to
+the fire, where an old woman sat, presiding over the mysteries of an
+enormous flesh-pot. Immediately his fellows, who had originally been
+clustered around it, re-appeared; fresh blocks and branches were
+thrown on, the flames crackled and rose, the men seated themselves
+around, and Plantagenet, excited by the adventure, rubbed his hands
+before the fire, and determined to fear nothing.
+
+A savoury steam exuded from the flesh-pot.
+
+'That smells well,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Tis a dimber cove,'[A] whispered one of the younger men to a
+companion.
+
+[Footnote A: 'Tis a lively lad.]
+
+'Our supper has but rough seasoning for such as you,' said the man who
+had first saluted him, and who was apparently the leader; 'but the
+welcome is hearty.'
+
+The woman and girls now came with wooden bowls and platters, and,
+after serving the men, seated themselves in an exterior circle, the
+children playing round them.
+
+'Come, old mort,' said the leader, in a very different tone to the one
+in which he addressed his young guest, 'tout the cobble-colter; are we
+to have darkmans upon us? And, Beruna, flick the panam.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Come, old woman, took after the turkey. Are we to wait
+till night! And, Beruna, cut the bread.]
+
+Upon this, that beautiful girl, who had at first attracted the notice
+of Cadurcis, called out in a sweet lively voice, 'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+and in a moment handed over the heads of the women a pannier of bread,
+which the leader took, and offered its contents to our fugitive.
+Cadurcis helped himself, with a bold but gracious air. The pannier was
+then passed round, and the old woman, opening the pot, drew out, with
+a huge iron fork, a fine turkey, which she tossed into a large wooden
+platter, and cut up with great quickness. First she helped Morgana,
+but only gained a reproof for her pains, who immediately yielded his
+portion to Plantagenet. Each man was provided with his knife, but the
+guest had none. Morgana immediately gave up his own.
+
+'Beruna!' he shouted, 'gibel a chiv for the gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Bring a knife for the gentleman.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!' said the girl; and she brought the knife to
+Plantagenet himself, saying at the same time, with sparkling eyes,
+'Yam, yam, gentry cove.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Eat, eat, gentleman.]
+
+Cadurcis really thought it was the most delightful meal he had ever
+made in his life. The flesh-pot held something besides turkeys. Rough
+as was the fare, it was good and plentiful. As for beverage, they
+drank humpty-dumpty, which is ale boiled with brandy, and which is
+not one of the slightest charms of a gipsy's life. When the men were
+satisfied, their platters were filled, and given to the women and
+children; and Beruna, with her portion, came and seated herself by
+Plantagenet, looking at him with a blended glance of delight and
+astonishment, like a beautiful young savage, and then turning to her
+female companions to stifle a laugh. The flesh-pot was carried away,
+the men lit their pipes, the fire was replenished, its red shadow
+mingled with the silver beams of the moon; around were the glittering
+tents and the silent woods; on all sides flashing eyes and picturesque
+forms. Cadurcis glanced at his companions, and gazed upon the scene
+with feelings of ravishing excitement; and then, almost unconscious of
+what he was saying, exclaimed, 'At length I have found the life that
+suits me!'
+
+'Indeed, squire!' said Morgana. 'Would you be one of us?'
+
+'From this moment,' said Cadurcis, 'if you will admit me to your band.
+But what can I do? And I have nothing to give you. You must teach me
+to earn my right to our supper.'
+
+'We'll make a Turkey merchant[A] of you yet,' said an old gipsy,
+'never fear that.'
+
+[Footnote A: _i.e._ We will teach you to steal a turkey]
+
+'Bah, Peter!' said Morgana, with an angry look, 'your red rag will
+never be still. And what was the purpose of your present travel?' he
+continued to Plantagenet.
+
+'None; I was sick of silly home.'
+
+'The gentry cove will be romboyled by his dam,' said a third gipsy.
+'Queer Cuffin will be the word yet, if we don't tout.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: His mother will make a hue and cry after the gentleman
+yet; justice of the peace will be the word, if we don't look sharp.]
+
+'Well, you shall see a little more of us before you decide,' said
+Morgana, thoughtfully, and turning the conversation. 'Beruna.'
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana!'
+
+'Tip me the clank, like a dimber mort as you are; trim a ken for the
+gentry cove; he is no lanspresado, or I am a kinchin.'[A]
+
+[Footnote A: Give me the tankard, like a pretty girl. Get a bed ready
+for the gentleman. He is no informer, or I am an infant.]
+
+'Ay! ay! Morgana' gaily exclaimed the girl, and she ran off to prepare
+a bed for the Lord of Cadurcis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+Dr. Masham could gain no tidings of the object of his pursuit at
+Southport: here, however, he ascertained that Plantagenet could not
+have fled to London, for in those days public conveyances were rare.
+There was only one coach that ran, or rather jogged, along this road,
+and it went but once a week, it being expected that very night; while
+the innkeeper was confident that so far as Southport was concerned,
+his little lordship had not sought refuge in the waggon, which
+was more frequent, though somewhat slower, in its progress to the
+metropolis. Unwilling to return home, although the evening was now
+drawing in, the Doctor resolved to proceed to a considerable town
+about twelve miles further, which Cadurcis might have reached by a
+cross road; so drawing his cloak around him, looking to his pistols,
+and desiring his servant to follow his example, the stout-hearted
+Rector of Marringhurst pursued his way.
+
+It was dark when the Doctor entered the town, and he proceeded
+immediately to the inn where the coach was expected, with some faint
+hope that the fugitive might be discovered abiding within its walls;
+but, to all his inquiries about young gentlemen and ponies, he
+received very unsatisfactory answers; so, reconciling himself as well
+as he could to the disagreeable posture of affairs, he settled himself
+in the parlour of the inn, with a good fire, and, lighting his pipe,
+desired his servant to keep a sharp look-out.
+
+In due time a great uproar in the inn-yard announced the arrival of
+the stage, an unwieldy machine, carrying six inside, and dragged by as
+many horses. The Doctor, opening the door of his apartment, which
+led on to a gallery that ran round the inn-yard, leaned over the
+balustrade with his pipe in his mouth, and watched proceedings. It so
+happened that the stage was to discharge one of its passengers at this
+town, who had come from the north, and the Doctor recognised in him a
+neighbour and brother magistrate, one Squire Mountmeadow, an important
+personage in his way, the terror of poachers, and somewhat of an
+oracle on the bench, as it was said that he could take a deposition
+without the assistance of his clerk. Although, in spite of the
+ostler's lanterns, it was very dark, it was impossible ever to be
+unaware of the arrival of Squire Mountmeadow; for he was one of those
+great men who take care to remind the world of their dignity by the
+attention which they require on every occasion.
+
+'Coachman!' said the authoritative voice of the Squire. 'Where is the
+coachman? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Postilion! Where is the
+postilion? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Host! Where is the host?
+Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Waiter! Where is the waiter? I say
+where is the waiter?'
+
+'Coming, please your worship!'
+
+'How long am I to wait? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Coachman!'
+
+'Your worship!'
+
+'Postilion!'
+
+'Yes, your worship!'
+
+'Host!'
+
+'Your worship's servant!'
+
+'Waiter!'
+
+'Your worship's honour's humble servant!'
+
+'I am going to alight!'
+
+All four attendants immediately bowed, and extended their arms to
+assist this very great man; but Squire Mountmeadow, scarcely deigning
+to avail himself of their proffered assistance, and pausing on each
+step, looking around him with his long, lean, solemn visage, finally
+reached terra firma in safety, and slowly stretched his tall, ungainly
+figure. It was at this moment that Dr. Masham's servant approached
+him, and informed his worship that his master was at the inn, and
+would be happy to see him. The countenance of the great Mountmeadow
+relaxed at the mention of the name of a brother magistrate, and in an
+audible voice he bade the groom 'tell my worthy friend, his worship,
+your worthy master, that I shall be rejoiced to pay my respects to an
+esteemed neighbour and a brother magistrate.'
+
+With slow and solemn steps, preceded by the host, and followed by the
+waiter, Squire Mountmeadow ascended the staircase of the external
+gallery, pausing occasionally, and looking around him with thoughtful
+importance, and making an occasional inquiry as to the state of the
+town and neighbourhood during his absence, in this fashion: 'Stop!
+where are you, host? Oh! you are there, sir, are you? Well, Mr. Host,
+and how have we been? orderly, eh?'
+
+'Quite orderly, your worship.'
+
+'Hoh! Orderly! Hem! Well, very well! Never easy, if absent only
+four-and-twenty hours. The law must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship.'
+
+'Lead on, sir. And, waiter; where are you, waiter? Oh, you are there,
+sir, are you? And so my brother magistrate is here?'
+
+'Yes, your honour's worship.'
+
+'Hem! What can he want? something in the wind; wants my advice, I dare
+say; shall have it. Soldiers ruly; king's servants; must be obeyed.'
+
+'Yes, your worship; quite ruly, your worship,' said the host.
+
+'As obliging and obstreperous as can be,' said the waiter.
+
+'Well, very well;' and here the Squire had gained the gallery, where
+the Doctor was ready to receive him.
+
+'It always gives me pleasure to meet a brother magistrate,' said
+Squire Mountmeadow, bowing with cordial condescension; 'and a
+gentleman of your cloth, too. The clergy must be respected; I stand or
+fall by the Church. After you, Doctor, after you.' So saying, the two
+magistrates entered the room.
+
+'An unexpected pleasure, Doctor,' said the Squire; 'and what brings
+your worship to town?'
+
+'A somewhat strange business,' said the Doctor; 'and indeed I am not a
+little glad to have the advantage of your advice and assistance.'
+
+'Hem! I thought so,' said the Squire; 'your worship is very
+complimentary. What is the case? Larceny?'
+
+'Nay, my good sir, 'tis a singular affair; and, if you please, we will
+order supper first, and discuss it afterwards. 'Tis for your private
+ear.'
+
+'Oh! ho!' said the Squire, looking very mysterious and important.
+'With your worship's permission,' he added, filling a pipe.
+
+The host was no laggard in waiting on two such important guests. The
+brother magistrates despatched their rump-steak; the foaming tankard
+was replenished; the fire renovated. At length, the table and the room
+being alike clear, Squire Mountmeadow drew a long puff, and said, 'Now
+for business, Doctor.'
+
+His companion then informed him of the exact object of his visit, and
+narrated to him so much of the preceding incidents as was necessary.
+The Squire listened in solemn silence, elevating his eyebrows, nodding
+his head, trimming his pipe, with profound interjections; and finally,
+being appealed to for his opinion by the Doctor, delivered himself of
+a most portentous 'Hem!'
+
+'I question, Doctor,' said the Squire, 'whether we should not
+communicate with the Secretary of State. 'Tis no ordinary business.
+'Tis a spiriting away of a Peer of the realm. It smacks of treason.'
+
+'Egad!' said the Doctor, suppressing a smile, 'I think we can hardly
+make a truant boy a Cabinet question.'
+
+The Squire glanced a look of pity at his companion. 'Prove the
+truancy, Doctor; prove it. 'Tis a case of disappearance; and how do we
+know that there is not a Jesuit at the bottom of it?'
+
+'There is something in that,' said the Doctor.
+
+'There is everything in it,' said the Squire, triumphantly. 'We must
+offer rewards; we must raise the posse comitatus.'
+
+'For the sake of the family, I would make as little stir as
+necessary,' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'For the sake of the family!' said the Squire. 'Think of the nation,
+sir! For the sake of the nation we must make as much stir as possible.
+'Tis a Secretary of State's business; 'tis a case for a general
+warrant.'
+
+'He is a well-meaning lad enough,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Ay, and therefore more easily played upon,' said the Squire. 'Rome is
+at the bottom of it, brother Masham, and I am surprised that a good
+Protestant like yourself, one of the King's Justices of the Peace, and
+a Doctor of Divinity to boot, should doubt the fact for an instant.'
+
+'We have not heard much of the Jesuits of late years,' said the
+Doctor.
+
+'The very reason that they are more active,' said the Squire.
+
+'An only child!' said Dr. Masham.
+
+'A Peer of the realm!' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'I should think he must be in the neighbourhood.'
+
+'More likely at St. Omer's.'
+
+'They would scarely take him to the plantations with this war?'
+
+'Let us drink "Confusion to the rebels!"' said the Squire. 'Any news?'
+
+'Howe sails this week,' said the Doctor.
+
+'May he burn Boston!' said the Squire.
+
+'I would rather he would reduce it, without such extremities,' said
+Dr. Masham.
+
+'Nothing is to be done without extremities,' said Squire Mountmeadow.
+
+'But this poor child?' said the Doctor, leading back the conversation.
+'What can we do?'
+
+'The law of the case is clear,' said the Squire; 'we must move a
+habeas corpus.'
+
+'But shall we be nearer getting him for that?' inquired the Doctor.
+
+'Perhaps not, sir; but 'tis the regular way. We must proceed by rule.'
+
+'I am sadly distressed,' said Dr. Masham. 'The worst is, he has gained
+such a start upon us; and yet he can hardly have gone to London; he
+would have been recognised here or at Southport.'
+
+'With his hair cropped, and in a Jesuit's cap?' inquired the Squire,
+with a slight sneer. 'Ah! Doctor, Doctor, you know not the gentry you
+have to deal with!'
+
+'We must hope,' said Dr. Masham. 'To-morrow we must organise some
+general search.'
+
+'I fear it will be of no use,' said the Squire, replenishing his pipe.
+'These Jesuits are deep fellows.'
+
+'But we are not sure about the Jesuits, Squire.'
+
+'I am,' said the Squire; 'the case is clear, and the sooner you break
+it to his mother the better. You asked me for my advice, and I give it
+you.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+It was on the following morning, as the Doctor was under the operation
+of the barber, that his groom ran into the room with a pale face and
+agitated air, and exclaimed,
+
+'Oh! master, master, what do you think? Here is a man in the yard with
+my lord's pony.'
+
+'Stop him, Peter,' exclaimed the Doctor. 'No! watch him, watch him;
+send for a constable. Are you certain 'tis the pony?'
+
+'I could swear to it out of a thousand,' said Peter.
+
+'There, never mind my beard, my good man,' said the Doctor. 'There is
+no time for appearances. Here is a robbery, at least; God grant no
+worse. Peter, my boots!' So saying, the Doctor, half equipped, and
+followed by Peter and the barber, went forth on the gallery. 'Where is
+he?' said the Doctor.
+
+'He is down below, talking to the ostler, and trying to sell the
+pony,' said Peter.
+
+'There is no time to lose,' said the Doctor; 'follow me, like true
+men:' and the Doctor ran downstairs in his silk nightcap, for his wig
+was not yet prepared.
+
+'There he is,' said Peter; and true enough there was a man in a
+smock-frock and mounted on the very pony which Lady Annabel had
+presented to Plantagenet.
+
+'Seize this man in the King's name,' said the Doctor, hastily
+advancing to him. 'Ostler, do your duty; Peter, be firm. I charge you
+all; I am a justice of the peace. I charge you arrest this man.'
+
+The man seemed very much astonished; but he was composed, and offered
+no resistance. He was dressed like a small farmer, in top-boots and a
+smock-frock. His hat was rather jauntily placed on his curly red hair.
+
+'Why am I seized?' at length said the man.
+
+'Where did you get that pony?' said the Doctor.
+
+'I bought it,' was the reply.
+
+'Of whom?'
+
+'A stranger at market.'
+
+'You are accused of robbery, and suspected of murder,' said Dr.
+Masham. 'Mr. Constable,' said the Doctor, turning to that functionary,
+who had now arrived, 'handcuff this man, and keep him in strict
+custody until further orders.'
+
+The report that a man was arrested for robbery, and suspected of
+murder, at the Red Dragon, spread like wildfire through the town;
+and the inn-yard was soon crowded with the curious and excited
+inhabitants.
+
+Peter and the barber, to whom he had communicated everything, were
+well qualified to do justice to the important information of which
+they were the sole depositaries; the tale lost nothing by their
+telling; and a circumstantial narrative of the robbery and murder of
+no less a personage than Lord Cadurcis, of Cadurcis Abbey, was soon
+generally prevalent.
+
+The stranger was secured in a stable, before which the constable kept
+guard; mine host, and the waiter, and the ostlers acted as a sort of
+supernumerary police, to repress the multitude; while Peter held the
+real pony by the bridle, whose identity, which he frequently attested,
+was considered by all present as an incontrovertible evidence of the
+commission of the crime.
+
+In the meantime Dr. Masham, really agitated, roused his brother
+magistrate, and communicated to his worship the important discovery.
+The Squire fell into a solemn flutter. 'We must be regular, brother
+Masham; we must proceed by rule; we are a bench in ourselves. Would
+that my clerk were here! We must send for Signsealer forthwith. I will
+not decide without the statutes. The law must be consulted, and it
+must be obeyed. The fellow hath not brought my wig. 'Tis a case of
+murder no doubt. A Peer of the realm murdered! You must break the
+intelligence to his surviving parent, and I will communicate to the
+Secretary of State. Can the body be found? That will prove the murder.
+Unless the body be found, the murder will not be proved, save
+the villain confess, which he will not do unless he hath sudden
+compunctions. I have known sudden compunctions go a great way. We had
+a case before our bench last month; there was no evidence. It was not
+a case of murder; it was of woodcutting; there was no evidence; but
+the defendant had compunctions. Oh! here is my wig. We must send for
+Signsealer. He is clerk to our bench, and he must bring the statutes.
+'Tis not simple murder this; it involves petty treason.'
+
+By this time his worship had completed his toilet, and he and his
+colleague took their way to the parlour they had inhabited the
+preceding evening. Mr. Signsealer was in attendance, much to the real,
+though concealed, satisfaction of Squire Mountmeadow. Their worships
+were seated like two consuls before the table, which Mr. Signsealer
+had duly arranged with writing materials and various piles of
+calf-bound volumes. Squire Mountmeadow then, arranging his
+countenance, announced that the bench was prepared, and mine host was
+instructed forthwith to summon the constable and his charge, together
+with Peter and the ostler as witnesses. There was a rush among some of
+the crowd who were nighest the scene to follow the prisoner into the
+room; and, sooth to say, the great Mountmeadow was much too enamoured
+of his own self-importance to be by any means a patron of close courts
+and private hearings; but then, though he loved his power to be
+witnessed, he was equally desirous that his person should be
+reverenced. It was his boast that he could keep a court of quarter
+sessions as quiet as a church; and now, when the crowd rushed in with
+all those sounds of tumult incidental to such a movement, it required
+only Mountmeadow slowly to rise, and drawing himself up to the full
+height of his gaunt figure, to knit his severe brow, and throw one
+of his peculiar looks around the chamber, to insure a most awful
+stillness. Instantly everything was so hushed, that you might have
+heard Signsealer nib his pen.
+
+The witnesses were sworn; Peter proved that the pony belonged to Lord
+Cadurcis, and that his lordship had been missing from home for several
+days, and was believed to have quitted the abbey on this identical
+pony. Dr. Masham was ready, if necessary, to confirm this evidence.
+The accused adhered to his first account, that he had purchased the
+animal the day before at a neighbouring fair, and doggedly declined to
+answer any cross-examination. Squire Mountmeadow looked alike pompous
+and puzzled; whispered to the Doctor; and then shook his head at Mr.
+Signsealer.
+
+'I doubt whether there be satisfactory evidence of the murder, brother
+Masham,' said the Squire; 'what shall be our next step?'
+
+'There is enough evidence to keep this fellow in custody,' said the
+Doctor. 'We must remand him, and make inquiries at the market town.
+I shall proceed there immediately, He is a strange-looking fellow,'
+added the Doctor: 'were it not for his carroty locks, I should
+scarcely take him for a native.'
+
+'Hem!' said the Squire, 'I have my suspicions. Fellow,' continued his
+worship, in an awful tone, 'you say that you are a stranger, and that
+your name is Morgan; very suspicious all this: you have no one to
+speak to your character or station, and you are found in possession of
+stolen goods. The bench will remand you for the present, and will at
+any rate commit you for trial for the robbery. But here is a Peer of
+the realm missing, fellow, and you are most grievously suspected of
+being concerned in his spiriting away, or even murder. You are upon
+tender ground, prisoner; 'tis a case verging on petty treason, if not
+petty treason itself. Eh! Mr. Signsealer? Thus runs the law, as I take
+it? Prisoner, it would be well for you to consider your situation.
+Have you no compunctions? Compunctions might save you, if not a
+principal offender. It is your duty to assist the bench in executing
+justice. The Crown is merciful; you may be king's evidence.'
+
+Mr. Signsealer whispered the bench; he proposed that the prisoner's
+hat should be examined, as the name of its maker might afford a clue
+to his residence.
+
+'True, true, Mr. Clerk,' said Squire Mountmeadow, 'I am coming to
+that. 'Tis a sound practice; I have known such a circumstance lead to
+great disclosures. But we must proceed in order. Order is everything.
+Constable, take the prisoner's hat off.'
+
+The constable took the hat off somewhat rudely; so rudely, indeed,
+that the carroty locks came off in company with it, and revealed a
+profusion of long plaited hair, which had been adroitly twisted under
+the wig, more in character with the countenance than its previous
+covering.
+
+'A Jesuit, after all!' exclaimed the Squire.
+
+'A gipsy, as it seems to me,' whispered the Doctor.
+
+'Still worse,' said the Squire.
+
+'Silence in the Court!' exclaimed the awful voice of Squire
+Mountmeadow, for the excitement of the audience was considerable.
+The disguise was generally esteemed as incontestable evidence of the
+murder. 'Silence, or I will order the Court to be cleared. Constable,
+proclaim silence. This is an awful business,' added the Squire, with a
+very long face. 'Brother Masham, we must do our duty; but this is an
+awful business. At any rate we must try to discover the body. A Peer
+of the realm must not be suffered to lie murdered in a ditch. He must
+have Christian burial, if possible, in the vaults of his ancestors.'
+
+When Morgana, for it was indeed he, observed the course affairs were
+taking, and ascertained that his detention under present circumstances
+was inevitable, he relaxed from his doggedness, and expressed a
+willingness to make a communication to the bench. Squire Mountmeadow
+lifted up his eyes to Heaven, as if entreating the interposition of
+Providence to guide him in his course; then turned to his brother
+magistrate, and then nodded to the clerk.
+
+'He has compunctions, brother Masham,' said his worship: 'I told you
+so; he has compunctions. Trust me to deal with these fellows. He knew
+not his perilous situation; the hint of petty treason staggered him.
+Mr. Clerk, take down the prisoner's confession; the Court must be
+cleared; constable, clear the Court. Let a stout man stand on each
+side of the prisoner, to protect the bench. The magistracy of England
+will never shrink from doing their duty, but they must be protected.
+Now, prisoner, the bench is ready to hear your confession. Conceal
+nothing, and if you were not a principal in the murder, or an
+accessory before the fact; eh, Mr. Clerk, thus runs the law, as I take
+it? there may be mercy; at any rate, if you be hanged, you will have
+the satisfaction of having cheerfully made the only atonement to
+society in your power.'
+
+'Hanging be damned!' said Morgana.
+
+Squire Mountmeadow started from his seat, his cheeks distended with
+rage, his dull eyes for once flashing fire. 'Did you ever witness such
+atrocity, brother Masham?' exclaimed his worship. 'Did you hear the
+villain? I'll teach him to respect the bench. I'll fine him before he
+is executed, that I will!'
+
+'The young gentleman to whom this pony belongs,' continued the gipsy,
+'may or may not be a lord. I never asked him his name, and he never
+told it me; but he sought hospitality of me and my people, and we gave
+it him, and he lives with us, of his own free choice. The pony is of
+no use to him now, and so I came to sell it for our common good.'
+
+'A Peer of the realm turned gipsy!' exclaimed the Squire. 'A very
+likely tale! I'll teach you to come here and tell your cock-and-bull
+stories to two of his majesty's justices of the peace. 'Tis a flat
+case of robbery and murder, and I venture to say something else. You
+shall go to gaol directly, and the Lord have mercy on your soul!'
+
+'Nay,' said the gipsy, appealing to Dr. Marsham; 'you, sir, appear to
+be a friend of this youth. You will not regain him by sending me to
+gaol. Load me, if you will, with irons; surround me with armed men,
+but at least give me the opportunity of proving the truth of what I
+say. I offer in two hours to produce to you the youth, and you shall
+find he is living with my people in content and peace.'
+
+'Content and fiddlestick!' said the Squire, in a rage.
+
+'Brother Mountmeadow,' said the Doctor, in a low tone, to his
+colleague, 'I have private duties to perform to this family. Pardon
+me if, with all deference to your sounder judgment and greater
+experience, I myself accept the prisoner's offer.'
+
+'Brother Masham, you are one of his majesty's justices of the peace,
+you are a brother magistrate, and you are a Doctor of Divinity; you
+owe a duty to your country, and you owe a duty to yourself. Is it
+wise, is it decorous, that one of the Quorum should go a-gipsying?
+Is it possible that you can credit this preposterous tale? Brother
+Masham, there will be a rescue, or my name is not Mountmeadow.'
+
+In spite, however, of all these solemn warnings, the good Doctor, who
+was not altogether unaware of the character of his pupil, and could
+comprehend that it was very possible the statement of the gipsy might
+be genuine, continued without very much offending his colleague, who
+looked upon, his conduct indeed rather with pity than resentment,
+to accept the offer of Morgana; and consequently, well-secured and
+guarded, and preceding the Doctor, who rode behind the cart with his
+servant, the gipsy soon sallied forth from the inn-yard, and requested
+the driver to guide his course in the direction of the forest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+It was the afternoon of the third day after the arrival of Cadurcis at
+the gipsy encampment, and nothing had yet occurred to make him repent
+his flight from the abbey, and the choice of life he had made. He had
+experienced nothing but kindness and hospitality, while the beautiful
+Beruna seemed quite content to pass her life in studying his
+amusement. The weather, too, had been extremely favourable to his new
+mode of existence; and stretched at his length upon the rich turf,
+with his head on Beruna's lap, and his eyes fixed upon the rich forest
+foliage glowing in the autumnal sunset, Plantagenet only wondered
+that he could have endured for so many years the shackles of his
+common-place home.
+
+His companions were awaiting the return of their leader, Morgana,
+who had been absent since the preceding day, and who had departed on
+Plantagenet's pony. Most of them were lounging or strolling in the
+vicinity of their tents; the children were playing; the old woman was
+cooking at the fire; and altogether, save that the hour was not so
+late, the scene presented much the same aspect as when Cadurcis had
+first beheld it. As for his present occupation, Beruna was giving him
+a lesson in the gipsy language, which he was acquiring with a rapid
+facility, which quite exceeded all his previous efforts in such
+acquisitions.
+
+Suddenly a scout sang out that a party was in sight. The men instantly
+disappeared; the women were on the alert; and one ran forward as a
+spy, on pretence of telling fortunes. This bright-eyed professor of
+palmistry soon, however, returned running, and out of breath, yet
+chatting all the time with inconceivable rapidity, and accompanying
+the startling communication she was evidently making with the most
+animated gestures. Beruna started up, and, leaving the astonished
+Cadurcis, joined them. She seemed alarmed. Cadurcis was soon convinced
+there was consternation in the camp.
+
+Suddenly a horseman galloped up, and was immediately followed by a
+companion. They called out, as if encouraging followers, and one of
+them immediately galloped away again, as if to detail the results
+of their reconnaissance. Before Cadurcis could well rise and make
+inquiries as to what was going on, a light cart, containing several
+men, drove up, and in it, a prisoner, he detected Morgana. The
+branches of the trees concealed for a moment two other horsemen
+who followed the cart; but Cadurcis, to his infinite alarm and
+mortification, soon recognised Dr. Masham and Peter.
+
+When the gipsies found their leader was captive, they no longer
+attempted to conceal themselves; they all came forward, and would have
+clustered round the cart, had not the riders, as well as those who
+more immediately guarded the prisoner, prevented them. Morgana spoke
+some words in a loud voice to the gipsies, and they immediately
+appeared less agitated; then turning to Dr. Masham, he said in
+English, 'Behold your child!'
+
+Instantly two gipsy men seized Cadurcis, and led him to the Doctor.
+
+'How now, my lord!' said the worthy Rector, in a stern voice, 'is this
+your duty to your mother and your friends?'
+
+Cadurcis looked down, but rather dogged than ashamed.
+
+'You have brought an innocent man into great peril,' continued the
+Doctor. 'This person, no longer a prisoner, has been arrested on
+suspicion of robbery, and even murder, through your freak. Morgana, or
+whatever your name may be, here is some reward for your treatment of
+this child, and some compensation for your detention. Mount your pony,
+Lord Cadurcis, and return to your home with me.'
+
+'This is my home, sir,' said Plantagenet.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis, this childish nonsense must cease; it has already
+endangered the life of your mother, nor can I answer for her safety,
+if you lose a moment in returning.'
+
+'Child, you must return,' said Morgana.
+
+'Child!' said Plantagenet, and he walked some steps away, and leant
+against a tree. 'You promised that I should remain,' said he,
+addressing himself reproachfully to Morgana.
+
+'You are not your own master,' said the gipsy; 'your remaining here
+will only endanger and disturb us. Fortunately we have nothing to fear
+from laws we have never outraged; but had there been a judge less wise
+and gentle than the master here, our peaceful family might have been
+all harassed and hunted to the very death.'
+
+He waved his hand, and addressed some words to his tribe, whereupon
+two brawny fellows seized Cadurcis, and placed him again, in spite of
+his struggling, upon his pony, with the same irresistible facility
+with which they had a few nights before dismounted him. The little
+lord looked very sulky, but his position was beginning to get
+ludicrous. Morgana, pocketing his five guineas, leaped over the side
+of the cart, and offered to guide the Doctor and his attendants
+through the forest. They moved on accordingly. It was the work of an
+instant, and Cadurcis suddenly found himself returning home between
+the Rector and Peter. Not a word, however, escaped his lips; once only
+he moved; the light branch of a tree, aimed with delicate precision,
+touched his back; he looked round; it was Beruna. She kissed her hand
+to him, and a tear stole down his pale, sullen cheek, as, taking from
+his breast his handkerchief, he threw it behind him, unperceived, that
+she might pick it up, and keep it for his sake.
+
+After proceeding two or three miles under the guidance of Morgana, the
+equestrians gained the road, though it still ran through the forest.
+Here the Doctor dismissed the gipsy-man, with whom he had occasionally
+conversed during their progress; but not a sound ever escaped from the
+mouth of Cadurcis, or rather, the captive, who was now substituted in
+Morgana's stead. The Doctor, now addressing himself to Plantagenet,
+informed him that it was of importance that they should make the best
+of their way, and so he put spurs to his mare, and Cadurcis sullenly
+complied with the intimation. At this rate, in the course of little
+more than another hour, they arrived in sight of the demesne of
+Cadurcis, where they pulled up their steeds.
+
+They entered the park, they approached the portal of the abbey; at
+length they dismounted. Their coming was announced by a servant, who
+had recognised his lord at a distance, and had ran on before with the
+tidings. When they entered the abbey, they were met by Lady Annabel in
+the cloisters; her countenance was very serious. She shook hands with
+Dr. Masham, but did not speak, and immediately led him aside. Cadurcis
+remained standing in the very spot where Doctor Masham left him, as if
+he were quite a stranger in the place, and was no longer master of
+his own conduct. Suddenly Doctor Masham, who was at the end of the
+cloister, while Lady Annabel was mounting the staircase, looked round
+with a pale face, and said in an agitated voice, 'Lord Cadurcis, Lady
+Annabel wishes to speak to you in the saloon.'
+
+Cadurcis immediately, but slowly, repaired to the saloon. Lady Annabel
+was walking up and down in it. She seemed greatly disturbed. When she
+saw him, she put her arm round his neck affectionately, and said in
+a low voice, 'My dearest Plantagenet, it has devolved upon me to
+communicate to you some distressing intelligence.' Her voice faltered,
+and the tears stole down her cheek.
+
+'My mother, then, is dangerously ill?' he inquired in a calm but
+softened tone.
+
+'It is even sadder news than that, dear child.'
+
+Cadurcis looked about him wildly, and then with an inquiring glance at
+Lady Annabel:
+
+'There can be but one thing worse than that,' he at length said.
+
+'What if it have happened?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+He threw himself into a chair, and covered his face with his hands.
+After a few minutes he looked up and said, in a low but distinct
+voice, 'It is too terrible to think of; it is too terrible to mention;
+but, if it have happened, let me be alone.'
+
+Lady Annabel approached him with a light step; she embraced him, and,
+whispering that she should be found in the next room, she quitted the
+apartment.
+
+Cadurcis remained seated for more than half an hour without changing
+in the slightest degree his position. The twilight died away; it grew
+quite dark; he looked up with a slight shiver, and then quitted the
+apartment.
+
+In the adjoining room, Lady Annabel was seated with Doctor Masham,
+and giving him the details of the fatal event. It had occurred that
+morning. Mrs. Cadurcis, who had never slept a wink since her knowledge
+of her son's undoubted departure, and scarcely for an hour been free
+from violent epileptic fits, had fallen early in the morning into a
+doze, which lasted about half an hour, and from which her medical
+attendant, who with Pauncefort had sat up with her during the night,
+augured the most favourable consequences. About half-past six o'clock
+she woke, and inquired whether Plantagenet had returned. They answered
+her that Doctor Masham had not yet arrived, but would probably be at
+the abbey in the course of the morning. She said it would be too late.
+They endeavoured to encourage her, but she asked to see Lady Annabel,
+who was immediately called, and lost no time in repairing to her. When
+Mrs. Cadurcis recognised her, she held out her hand, and said in a
+dying tone, 'It was my fault; it was ever my fault; it is too late
+now; let him find a mother in you.' She never spoke again, and in the
+course of an hour expired.
+
+While Lady Annabel and the Doctor were dwelling on these sad
+circumstances, and debating whether he should venture to approach
+Plantagenet, and attempt to console him, for the evening was now
+far advanced, and nearly three hours had elapsed since the fatal
+communication had been made to him, it happened that Mistress
+Pauncefort chanced to pass Mrs. Cadurcis' room, and as she did so she
+heard some one violently sobbing. She listened, and hearing the sounds
+frequently repeated, she entered the room, which, but for her candle,
+would have been quite dark, and there she found Lord Cadurcis kneeling
+and weeping by his mother's bedside. He seemed annoyed at being seen
+and disturbed, but his spirit was too broken to murmur. 'La! my lord,'
+said Mistress Pauncefort, 'you must not take on so; you must not
+indeed. I am sure this dark room is enough to put any one in low
+spirits. Now do go downstairs, and sit with my lady and the Doctor,
+and try to be cheerful; that is a dear good young gentleman. I wish
+Miss Venetia were here, and then she would amuse you. But you must not
+take on, because there is no use in it. You must exert yourself, for
+what is done cannot be undone; and, as the Doctor told us last Sunday,
+we must all die; and well for those who die with a good conscience;
+and I am sure the poor dear lady that is gone must have had a good
+conscience, because she had a good heart, and I never heard any one
+say the contrary. Now do exert yourself, my dear lord, and try to be
+cheerful, do; for there is nothing like a little exertion in these
+cases, for God's will must be done, and it is not for us to say yea or
+nay, and taking on is a murmuring against God's providence.' And so
+Mistress Pauncefort would have continued urging the usual topics of
+coarse and common-place consolation; but Cadurcis only answered with a
+sigh that came from the bottom of his heart, and said with streaming
+eyes, 'Ah! Mrs. Pauncefort, God had only given me one friend in this
+world, and there she lies.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+The first conviction that there is death in the house is perhaps the
+most awful moment of youth. When we are young, we think that not only
+ourselves, but that all about us, are immortal. Until the arrow has
+struck a victim round our own hearth, death is merely an unmeaning
+word; until then, its casual mention has stamped no idea upon our
+brain. There are few, even among those least susceptible of thought
+and emotion, in whose hearts and minds the first death in the family
+does not act as a powerful revelation of the mysteries of life, and of
+their own being; there are few who, after such a catastrophe, do not
+look upon the world and the world's ways, at least for a time, with
+changed and tempered feelings. It recalls the past; it makes us ponder
+over the future; and youth, gay and light-hearted youth, is taught,
+for the first time, to regret and to fear.
+
+On Cadurcis, a child of pensive temperament, and in whose strange
+and yet undeveloped character there was, amid lighter elements, a
+constitutional principle of melancholy, the sudden decease of his
+mother produced a profound effect. All was forgotten of his parent,
+except the intimate and natural tie, and her warm and genuine
+affection. He was now alone in the world; for reflection impressed
+upon him at this moment what the course of existence too generally
+teaches to us all, that mournful truth, that, after all, we have no
+friends that we can depend upon in this life but our parents. All
+other intimacies, however ardent, are liable to cool; all other
+confidence, however unlimited, to be violated. In the phantasmagoria
+of life, the friend with whom we have cultivated mutual trust for
+years is often suddenly or gradually estranged from us, or becomes,
+from, painful, yet irresistible circumstances, even our deadliest foe.
+As for women, as for the mistresses of our hearts, who has not learnt
+that the links of passion are fragile as they are glittering; and
+that the bosom on which we have reposed with idolatry all our secret
+sorrows and sanguine hopes, eventually becomes the very heart that
+exults in our misery and baffles our welfare? Where is the enamoured
+face that smiled upon our early love, and was to shed tears over our
+grave? Where are the choice companions of our youth, with whom we were
+to breast the difficulties and share the triumphs of existence? Even
+in this inconstant world, what changes like the heart? Love is a
+dream, and friendship a delusion. No wonder we grow callous; for how
+few have the opportunity of returning to the hearth which they quitted
+in levity or thoughtless weariness, yet which alone is faithful to
+them; whose sweet affections require not the stimulus of prosperity
+or fame, the lure of accomplishments, or the tribute of flattery; but
+which are constant to us in distress, and console us even in disgrace!
+
+Before she retired for the night, Lady Annabel was anxious to see
+Plantagenet. Mistress Pauncefort had informed her of his visit to
+his mother's room. Lady Annabel found Cadurcis in the gallery, now
+partially lighted by the moon which had recently risen. She entered
+with her light, as if she were on her way to her own room, and not
+seeking him.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'will you not go to bed?'
+
+'I do not intend to go to bed to-night,' he replied.
+
+She approached him and took him by the hand, which he did not withdraw
+from her, and they walked together once or twice up and down the
+gallery.
+
+'I think, dear child,' said Lady Annabel, 'you had better come and sit
+with us.'
+
+'I like to be alone,' was his answer; but not in a sullen voice, low
+and faltering.
+
+'But in sorrow we should be with our friends,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have no friends,' he answered. 'I only had one.'
+
+'I am your friend, dear child; I am your mother now, and you shall
+find me one if you like. And Venetia, have you forgotten your sister?
+Is she not your friend? And Dr. Masham, surely you cannot doubt his
+friendship?'
+
+Cadurcis tried to stifle a sob. 'Ay, Lady Annabel,' he said, 'you are
+my friend now, and so are you all; and you know I love you much. But
+you were not my friends two years ago; and things will change again;
+they will, indeed. A mother is your friend as long as she lives; she
+cannot help being your friend.'
+
+'You shall come to Cherbury and live with us,' said Lady Annabel.' You
+know you love Cherbury, and you shall find it a home, a real home.'
+
+He pressed her hand to his lips; the hand was covered with his tears.
+
+'We will go to Cherbury to-morrow, dear Plantagenet; remaining here
+will only make you sad.'
+
+'I will never leave Cadurcis again while my mother is in this house,'
+he said, in a firm and serious voice. And then, after a moment's
+pause, he added, 'I wish to know when the burial is to take place.'
+
+'We will ask Dr. Masham,' replied Lady Annabel. 'Come, let us go to
+him; come, my own child.'
+
+He permitted himself to be led away. They descended to the small
+apartment where Lady Annabel had been previously sitting. They found
+the Doctor there; he rose and pressed Plantagenet's hand with great
+emotion. They made room for him at the fire between them; he sat in
+silence, with his gaze intently fixed upon the decaying embers,
+yet did not quit his hold of Lady Annabel's hand. He found it a
+consolation to him; it linked him to a being who seemed to love him.
+As long as he held her hand he did not seem quite alone in the world.
+
+Now nobody spoke; for Lady Annabel felt that Cadurcis was in some
+degree solaced; and she thought it unwise to interrupt the more
+composed train of his thoughts. It was, indeed, Plantagenet himself
+who first broke silence.
+
+'I do not think I can go to bed, Lady Annabel,' he said. 'The thought
+of this night is terrible to me. I do not think it ever can end. I
+would much sooner sit up in this room.'
+
+'Nay! my child, sleep is a great consoler; try to go to bed, love.'
+
+'I should like to sleep in my mother's room,' was his strange reply.
+'It seems to me that I could sleep there. And if I woke in the night,
+I should like to see her.'
+
+Lady Annabel and the Doctor exchanged looks.
+
+'I think,' said the Doctor, 'you had better sleep in my room, and
+then, if you wake in the night, you will have some one to speak to.
+You will find that a comfort.'
+
+'Yes, that you will,' said Lady Annabel. 'I will go and have the sofa
+bed made up in the Doctor's room for you. Indeed that will be the very
+best plan.'
+
+So at last, but not without a struggle, they persuaded Cadurcis to
+retire. Lady Annabel embraced him tenderly when she bade him good
+night; and, indeed, he felt consoled by her affection.
+
+As nothing could persuade Plantagenet to leave the abbey until his
+mother was buried, Lady Annabel resolved to take up her abode there,
+and she sent the next morning for Venetia. There were a great many
+arrangements to make about the burial and the mourning; and Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham were obliged, in consequence, to go the next
+morning to Southport; but they delayed their departure until the
+arrival of Venetia, that Cadurcis might not be left alone.
+
+The meeting between himself and Venetia was a very sad one, and yet
+her companionship was a great solace. Venetia urged every topic that
+she fancied could reassure his spirits, and upon the happy home he
+would find at Cherbury.
+
+'Ah!' said Cadurcis, 'they will not leave me here; I am sure of that.
+I think our happy days are over, Venetia.'
+
+What mourner has not felt the magic of time? Before the funeral could
+take place, Cadurcis had recovered somewhat of his usual cheerfulness,
+and would indulge with Venetia in plans of their future life. And
+living, as they all were, under the same roof, sharing the same
+sorrows, participating in the same cares, and all about to wear the
+same mournful emblems of their domestic calamity, it was difficult for
+him to believe that he was indeed that desolate being he had at first
+correctly estimated himself. Here were true friends, if such could
+exist; here were fine sympathies, pure affections, innocent and
+disinterested hearts! Every domestic tie yet remained perfect, except
+the spell-bound tie of blood. That wanting, all was a bright and happy
+vision, that might vanish in an instant, and for ever; that perfect,
+even the least graceful, the most repulsive home, had its irresistible
+charms; and its loss, when once experienced, might be mourned for
+ever, and could never be restored.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+After the funeral of Mrs. Cadurcis, the family returned to Cherbury
+with Plantagenet, who was hereafter to consider it his home. All that
+the most tender solicitude could devise to reconcile him to the change
+in his life was fulfilled by Lady Annabel and her daughter, and, under
+their benignant influence, he soon regained his usual demeanour. His
+days were now spent as in the earlier period of their acquaintance,
+with the exception of those painful returns to home, which had once
+been a source to him of so much gloom and unhappiness. He pursued his
+studies as of old, and shared the amusements of Venetia. His allotted
+room was ornamented by her drawings, and in the evenings they read
+aloud by turns to Lady Annabel the volume which she selected. The
+abbey he never visited again after his mother's funeral.
+
+Some weeks had passed in this quiet and contented manner, when one
+day Doctor Masham, who, since the death of his mother, had been
+in correspondence with his guardian, received a letter from that
+nobleman, to announce that he had made arrangements for sending his
+ward to Eton, and to request that he would accordingly instantly
+proceed to the metropolis. This announcement occasioned both Cadurcis
+and Venetia poignant affliction. The idea of separation was to both
+of them most painful; and although Lady Annabel herself was in
+some degree prepared for an arrangement, which sooner or later she
+considered inevitable, she was herself scarcely less distressed.
+The good Doctor, in some degree to break the bitterness of parting,
+proposed accompanying Plantagenet to London, and himself personally
+delivering the charge, in whose welfare they were so much interested,
+to his guardian. Nevertheless, it was a very sad affair, and the week
+which was to intervene before his departure found both himself and
+Venetia often in tears. They no longer took any delight in their
+mutual studies but passed the day walking about and visiting old
+haunts, and endeavouring to console each other for what they both
+deemed a great calamity, and which was indeed, the only serious
+misfortune Venetia had herself experienced in the whole course of her
+serene career.
+
+'But if I were really your brother,' said Plantagenet, 'I must have
+quitted you the same, Venetia. Boys always go to school; and then we
+shall be so happy when I return.'
+
+'Oh! but we are so happy now, Plantagenet. I cannot believe that we
+are going to part. And are you sure that you will return? Perhaps your
+guardian will not let you, and will wish you to spend your holidays at
+his house. His house will be your home now.'
+
+It was impossible for a moment to forget the sorrow that was impending
+over them. There were so many preparations to be made for his
+departure, that every instant something occurred to remind them of
+their sorrow. Venetia sat with tears in her eyes marking his new
+pocket-handkerchiefs which they had all gone to Southport to purchase,
+for Plantagenet asked, as a particular favour, that no one should mark
+them but Venetia. Then Lady Annabel gave Plantagenet a writing-case,
+and Venetia filled it with pens and paper, that he might never want
+means to communicate with them; and her evenings were passed in
+working him a purse, which Lady Annabel took care should be well
+stocked. All day long there seemed something going on to remind them
+of what was about to happen; and as for Pauncefort, she flounced in
+and out the room fifty times a day, with 'What is to be done about my
+lord's shirts, my lady? I think his lordship had better have another
+dozen, your la'ship. Better too much than too little, I always say;'
+or, 'O! my lady, your la'ship cannot form an idea of what a state my
+lord's stockings are in, my lady. I think I had better go over to
+Southport with John, my lady, and buy him some;' or, 'Please, my lady,
+did I understand your la'ship spoke to the tailor on Thursday about
+my lord's things? I suppose your la'ship knows my lord has got no
+great-coat?'
+
+Every one of these inquiries made Venetia's heart tremble. Then there
+was the sad habit of dating every coming day by its distance from
+the fatal one. There was the last day but four, and the last day
+but three, and the last day but two. The last day but one at length
+arrived; and at length, too, though it seemed incredible, the last day
+itself.
+
+Plantagenet and Venetia both rose very early, that they might make it
+as long as possible. They sighed involuntarily when they met, and then
+they went about to pay last visits to every creature and object of
+which they had been so long fond. Plantagenet went to bid farewell
+to the horses and adieu to the cows, and then walked down to the
+woodman's cottage, and then to shake hands with the keeper. He would
+not say 'Good-bye' to the household until the very last moment; and as
+for Marmion, the bloodhound, he accompanied both of them so faithfully
+in this melancholy ramble, and kept so close to both, that it was
+useless to break the sad intelligence to him yet.
+
+'I think now, Venetia, we have been to see everything,' said
+Plantagenet, 'I shall see the peacocks at breakfast time. I wish Eton
+was near Cherbury, and then I could come home on Sunday. I cannot bear
+going to Cadurcis again, but I should like you to go once a week, and
+try to keep up our garden, and look after everything, though there is
+not much that will not take care of itself, except the garden. We made
+that together, and I could not bear its being neglected.'
+
+Venetia could not assure him that no wish of his should be neglected,
+because she was weeping.
+
+'I am glad the Doctor,' he continued, 'is going to take me to town.
+I should be very wretched by myself. But he will put me in mind of
+Cherbury, and we can talk together of Lady Annabel and you. Hark! the
+bell rings; we must go to breakfast, the last breakfast but one.'
+
+Lady Annabel endeavoured, by unusual good spirits, to cheer up her
+little friends. She spoke of Plantagenet's speedy return so much as a
+matter of course, and the pleasant things they were to do when he came
+back, that she really succeeded in exciting a smile in Venetia's April
+face, for she was smiling amid tears.
+
+Although it was the last day, time hung heavily on their hands. After
+breakfast they went over the house together; and Cadurcis, half with
+genuine feeling, and half in a spirit of mockery of their sorrow, made
+a speech to the inanimate walls, as if they were aware of his intended
+departure. At length, in their progress, they passed the door of the
+closed apartments, and here, holding Venetia's hand, he stopped, and,
+with an expression of irresistible humour, making a low bow to them,
+he said, very gravely, 'And good-bye rooms that I have never entered;
+perhaps, before I come back, Venetia will find out what is locked up
+in you!'
+
+Dr. Masham arrived for dinner, and in a postchaise. The unusual
+conveyance reminded them of the morrow very keenly. Venetia could not
+bear to see the Doctor's portmanteau taken out and carried into the
+hall. She had hopes, until then, that something would happen and
+prevent all this misery. Cadurcis whispered her, 'I say, Venetia, do
+not you wish this was winter?'
+
+'Why, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Because then we might have a good snowstorm, and be blocked up again
+for a week.'
+
+Venetia looked at the sky, but not a cloud was to be seen.
+
+The Doctor was glad to warm himself at the hall-fire, for it was a
+fresh autumnal afternoon.
+
+'Are you cold, sir?' said Venetia, approaching him.
+
+'I am, my little maiden,' said the Doctor.
+
+'Do you think there is any chance of its snowing, Doctor Masham?'
+
+'Snowing! my little maiden; what can you be thinking of?'
+
+The dinner was rather gayer than might have been expected. The Doctor
+was jocular, Lady Annabel lively, and Plantagenet excited by an
+extraordinary glass of wine. Venetia alone remained dispirited. The
+Doctor made mock speeches and proposed toasts, and told Plantagenet
+that he must learn to make speeches too, or what would he do when
+he was in the House of Lords? And then Plantagenet tried to make a
+speech, and proposed Venetia's health; and then Venetia, who could not
+bear to hear herself praised by him on such a day, the last day, burst
+into tears. Her mother called her to her side and consoled her, and
+Plantagenet jumped up and wiped her eyes with one of those very
+pocket-handkerchiefs on which she had embroidered his cipher and
+coronet with her own beautiful hair. Towards evening Plantagenet began
+to experience the reaction of his artificial spirits. The Doctor had
+fallen into a gentle slumber, Lady Annabel had quitted the room,
+Venetia sat with her hand in Plantagenet's on a stool by the fireside.
+Both were sad and silent. At last Venetia said, 'O Plantagenet, I
+wish I were your real sister! Perhaps, when I see you again, you will
+forget this,' and she turned the jewel that was suspended round her
+neck, and showed him the inscription.
+
+'I am sure when I see you-again, Venetia,' he replied, 'the only
+difference will be, that I shall love you more than ever.'
+
+'I hope so,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am sure of it. Now remember what we are talking about. When we meet
+again, we shall see which of us two will love each other the most.'
+
+'O Plantagenet, I hope they will be kind to you at Eton.'
+
+'I will make them.'
+
+'And, whenever you are the least unhappy, you will write to us?'
+
+'I shall never be unhappy about anything but being away from you. As
+for the rest, I will make people respect me; I know what I am.'
+
+'Because if they do not behave well to you, mamma could ask Dr. Masham
+to go and see you, and they will attend to him; and I would ask him
+too. I wonder,' she continued after a moment's pause, 'if you have
+everything you want. I am quite sure the instant you are gone, we
+shall remember something you ought to have; and then I shall be quite
+brokenhearted.'
+
+'I have got everything.'
+
+'You said you wanted a large knife.'
+
+'Yes! but I am going to buy one in London. Dr. Masham says he will
+take me to a place where the finest knives in the world are to be
+bought. It is a great thing to go to London with Dr. Masham.'
+
+'I have never written your name in your Bible and Prayer-book. I will
+do it this evening.'
+
+'Lady Annabel is to write it in the Bible, and you are to write it in
+the Prayer-book.'
+
+'You are to write to us from London by Dr. Masham, if only a line.'
+
+'I shall not fail.'
+
+'Never mind about your handwriting; but mind you write.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel's step was heard, and Plantagenet said,
+'Give me a kiss, Venetia, for I do not mean to bid good-bye to-night.'
+
+'But you will not go to-morrow before we are up?'
+
+'Yes, we shall.'
+
+'Now, Plantagenet, I shall be up to bid you good-bye, mind that'
+
+Lady Annabel entered, the Doctor woke, lights followed, the servant
+made up the fire, and the room looked cheerful again. After tea,
+the names were duly written in the Bible and Prayer-book; the last
+arrangements were made, all the baggage was brought down into the
+hall, all ransacked their memory and fancy, to see if it were possible
+that anything that Plantagenet could require was either forgotten
+or had been omitted. The clock struck ten; Lady Annabel rose. The
+travellers were to part at an early hour: she shook hands with Dr.
+Masham, but Cadurcis was to bid her farewell in her dressing-room, and
+then, with heavy hearts and glistening eyes, they all separated. And
+thus ended the last day!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+Venetia passed a restless night. She was so resolved to be awake in
+time for Plantagenet's departure, that she could not sleep; and at
+length, towards morning, fell, from exhaustion, into a light slumber,
+from which she sprang up convulsively, roused by the sound of the
+wheels of the postchaise. She looked out of her window, and saw the
+servant strapping on the portmanteaus. Shortly after this she heard
+Plantagenet's step in the vestibule; he passed her room, and proceeded
+to her mother's dressing-room, at the door of which she heard him
+knock, and then there was silence.
+
+'You are in good time,' said Lady Annabel, who was seated in an easy
+chair when Plantagenet entered her room. 'Is the Doctor up?'
+
+'He is breakfasting.'
+
+'And have you breakfasted?'
+
+'I have no appetite.'
+
+'You should take something, my child, before you go. Now, come hither,
+my dear Plantagenet,' she said, extending her hand; 'listen to me, one
+word. When you arrive in London, you will go to your guardian's. He
+is a great man, and I believe a very good one, and the law and your
+father's will have placed him in the position of a parent to you. You
+must therefore love, honour, and obey him; and I doubt not he will
+deserve all your affection, respect, and duty. Whatever he desires or
+counsels you will perform, and follow. So long as you act according to
+his wishes, you cannot be wrong. But, my dear Plantagenet, if by any
+chance it ever happens, for strange things sometimes happen in this
+world, that you are in trouble and require a friend, remember that
+Cherbury is also your home; the home of your heart, if not of the law;
+and that not merely from my own love for you, but because I promised
+your poor mother on her death-bed, I esteem myself morally, although
+not legally, in the light of a parent to you. You will find Eton a
+great change; you will experience many trials and temptations; but you
+will triumph over and withstand them all, if you will attend to these
+few directions. Fear God; morning and night let nothing induce you
+ever to omit your prayers to Him; you will find that praying will
+make you happy. Obey your superiors; always treat your masters with
+respect. Ever speak the truth. So long as you adhere to this rule,
+you never can be involved in any serious misfortune. A deviation from
+truth is, in general, the foundation of all misery. Be kind to your
+companions, but be firm. Do not be laughed into doing that which you
+know to be wrong. Be modest and humble, but ever respect yourself.
+Remember who you are, and also that it is your duty to excel.
+Providence has given you a great lot. Think ever that you are born to
+perform great duties.
+
+'God bless you, Plantagenet!' she continued, after a slight pause,
+with a faltering voice, 'God bless you, my sweet child. And God will
+bless you if you remember Him. Try also to remember us,' she added, as
+she embraced him, and placed in his hand Venetia's well-lined purse.
+'Do not forget Cherbury and all it contains; hearts that love you
+dearly, and will pray ever for your welfare.'
+
+Plantagenet leant upon her bosom. He had entered the room resolved to
+be composed, with an air even of cheerfulness, but his tender heart
+yielded to the first appeal to his affections. He could only murmur
+out some broken syllables of devotion, and almost unconsciously found
+that he had quitted the chamber.
+
+With streaming eyes and hesitating steps he was proceeding along the
+vestibule, when he heard his name called by a low sweet voice. He
+looked around; it was Venetia. Never had he beheld such a beautiful
+vision. She was muffled up in her dressing-gown, her small white feet
+only guarded from the cold by her slippers. Her golden hair seemed to
+reach her waist, her cheek was flushed, her large blue eyes glittered
+with tears.
+
+'Plantagenet,' she said--
+
+Neither of them could speak. They embraced, they mingled their tears
+together, and every instant they wept more plenteously. At length a
+footstep was heard; Venetia murmured a blessing, and vanished.
+
+Cadurcis lingered on the stairs a moment to compose himself. He wiped
+his eyes; he tried to look undisturbed. All the servants were in the
+hall; from Mistress Pauncefort to the scullion there was not a dry
+eye. All loved the little lord, he was so gracious and so gentle.
+Every one asked leave to touch his hand before he went. He tried to
+smile and say something kind to all. He recognised the gamekeeper,
+and told him to do what he liked at Cadurcis; said something to the
+coachman about his pony; and begged Mistress Pauncefort, quite aloud,
+to take great care of her young mistress. As he was speaking, he
+felt something rubbing against his hand: it was Marmion, the old
+bloodhound. He also came to bid his adieus. Cadurcis patted him with
+affection, and said, 'Ah! my old fellow, we shall yet meet again.'
+
+The Doctor appeared, smiling as usual, made his inquiries whether all
+were right, nodded to the weeping household, called Plantagenet his
+brave boy, and patted him on the back, and bade him jump into the
+chaise. Another moment, and Dr. Masham had also entered; the door was
+closed, the fatal 'All right' sung out, and Lord Cadurcis was whirled
+away from that Cherbury where he was so loved.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Life is not dated merely by years. Events are sometimes the best
+calendars. There are epochs in our existence which cannot be
+ascertained by a formal appeal to the registry. The arrival of the
+Cadurcis family at their old abbey, their consequent intimacy at
+Cherbury, the death of the mother, and the departure of the son: these
+were events which had been crowded into a space of less than two
+years; but those two years were not only the most eventful in the life
+of Venetia Herbert, but in their influence upon the development of her
+mind, and the formation of her character, far exceeded the effects of
+all her previous existence.
+
+Venetia once more found herself with no companion but her mother,
+but in vain she attempted to recall the feelings she had before
+experienced under such circumstances, and to revert to the resources
+she had before commanded. No longer could she wander in imaginary
+kingdoms, or transform the limited world of her experience into a
+boundless region of enchanted amusement. Her play-pleasure hours were
+fled for ever. She sighed for her faithful and sympathising companion.
+The empire of fancy yielded without a struggle to the conquering sway
+of memory.
+
+For the first few weeks Venetia was restless and dispirited, and when
+she was alone she often wept. A mysterious instinct prompted her,
+however, not to exhibit such emotion before her mother. Yet she loved
+to hear Lady Annabel talk of Plantagenet, and a visit to the abbey was
+ever her favourite walk. Sometimes, too, a letter arrived from Lord
+Cadurcis, and this was great joy; but such communications were rare.
+Nothing is more difficult than for a junior boy at a public school to
+maintain a correspondence; yet his letters were most affectionate,
+and always dwelt upon the prospect of his return. The period for this
+hoped-for return at length arrived, but it brought no Plantagenet.
+His guardian wished that the holidays should be spent under his roof.
+Still at intervals Cadurcis wrote to Cherbury, to which, as time flew
+on, it seemed destined he never was to return. Vacation followed
+vacation, alike passed with his guardian, either in London, or at
+a country seat still more remote from Cherbury, until at length it
+became so much a matter of course that his guardian's house should
+be esteemed his home, that Plantagenet ceased to allude even to the
+prospect of return. In time his letters became rarer and rarer, until,
+at length, they altogether ceased. Meanwhile Venetia had overcome the
+original pang of separation; if not as gay as in old days, she was
+serene and very studious; delighting less in her flowers and birds,
+but much more in her books, and pursuing her studies with an
+earnestness and assiduity which her mother was rather fain to check
+than to encourage. Venetia Herbert, indeed, promised to become a most
+accomplished woman. She had a fine ear for music, a ready tongue for
+languages; already she emulated her mother's skill in the arts; while
+the library of Cherbury afforded welcome and inexhaustible resources
+to a girl whose genius deserved the richest and most sedulous
+cultivation, and whose peculiar situation, independent of her studious
+predisposition, rendered reading a pastime to her rather than a
+task. Lady Annabel watched the progress of her daughter with lively
+interest, and spared no efforts to assist the formation of her
+principles and her taste. That deep religious feeling which was the
+characteristic of the mother had been carefully and early cherished
+in the heart of the child, and in time the unrivalled writings of the
+great divines of our Church became a principal portion of her reading.
+Order, method, severe study, strict religious exercise, with no
+amusement or relaxation but of the most simple and natural character,
+and with a complete seclusion from society, altogether formed a
+system, which, acting upon a singularly susceptible and gifted nature,
+secured the promise in Venetia Herbert, at fourteen years of age, of
+an extraordinary woman; a system, however, against which her lively
+and somewhat restless mind might probably have rebelled, had not
+that system been so thoroughly imbued with all the melting spell of
+maternal affection. It was the inspiration of this sacred love that
+hovered like a guardian angel over the life of Venetia. It roused her
+from her morning slumbers with an embrace, it sanctified her evening
+pillow with a blessing; it anticipated the difficulty of the student's
+page, and guided the faltering hand of the hesitating artist; it
+refreshed her memory, it modulated her voice; it accompanied her in
+the cottage, and knelt by her at the altar. Marvellous and beautiful
+is a mother's love. And when Venetia, with her strong feelings and
+enthusiastic spirit, would look around and mark that a graceful form
+and a bright eye were for ever watching over her wants and wishes,
+instructing with sweetness, and soft even with advice, her whole soul
+rose to her mother, all thoughts and feelings were concentrated in
+that sole existence, and she desired no happier destiny than to pass
+through life living in the light of her mother's smiles, and clinging
+with passionate trust to that beneficent and guardian form.
+
+But with all her quick and profound feelings Venetia was thoughtful
+and even shrewd, and when she was alone her very love for her
+mother, and her gratitude for such an ineffable treasure as parental
+affection, would force her mind to a subject which at intervals had
+haunted her even from her earliest childhood. Why had she only one
+parent? What mystery was this that enveloped that great tie? For
+that there was a mystery Venetia felt as assured as that she was a
+daughter. By a process which she could not analyse, her father had
+become a forbidden subject. True, Lady Annabel had placed no formal
+prohibition upon its mention; nor at her present age was Venetia one
+who would be influenced in her conduct by the bygone and arbitrary
+intimations of a menial; nevertheless, that the mention of her father
+would afford pain to the being she loved best in the world, was a
+conviction which had grown with her years and strengthened with her
+strength. Pardonable, natural, even laudable as was the anxiety of the
+daughter upon such a subject, an instinct with which she could not
+struggle closed the lips of Venetia for ever upon this topic. His name
+was never mentioned, his past existence was never alluded to. Who was
+he? That he was of noble family and great position her name betokened,
+and the state in which they lived. He must have died very early;
+perhaps even before her mother gave her birth. A dreadful lot indeed;
+and yet was the grief that even such a dispensation might occasion, so
+keen, so overwhelming, that after fourteen long years his name might
+not be permitted, even for an instant, to pass the lips of his
+bereaved wife? Was his child to be deprived of the only solace for
+his loss, the consolation of cherishing his memory? Strange, passing
+strange indeed, and bitter! At Cherbury the family of Herbert were
+honoured only from tradition. Until the arrival of Lady Annabel, as we
+have before mentioned, they had not resided at the hall for more than
+half a century. There were no old retainers there from whom Venetia
+might glean, without suspicion, the information for which she panted.
+Slight, too, as was Venetia's experience of society, there were times
+when she could not resist the impression that her mother was not
+happy; that there was some secret sorrow that weighed upon her
+spirit, some grief that gnawed at her heart. Could it be still the
+recollection of her lost sire? Could one so religious, so resigned,
+so assured of meeting the lost one in a better world, brood with a
+repining soul over the will of her Creator? Such conduct was entirely
+at variance with all the tenets of Lady Annabel. It was not thus she
+consoled the bereaved, that she comforted the widow, and solaced the
+orphan. Venetia, too, observed everything and forgot nothing. Not an
+incident of her earliest childhood that was not as fresh in her memory
+as if it had occurred yesterday. Her memory was naturally keen; living
+in solitude, with nothing to distract it, its impressions never faded
+away. She had never forgotten her mother's tears the day that she and
+Plantagenet had visited Marringhurst. Somehow or other Dr. Masham
+seemed connected with this sorrow. Whenever Lady Annabel was most
+dispirited it was after an interview with that gentleman; yet the
+presence of the Doctor always gave her pleasure, and he was the most
+kind-hearted and cheerful of men. Perhaps, after all, it was only her
+illusion; perhaps, after all, it was the memory of her father to which
+her mother was devoted, and which occasionally overcame her; perhaps
+she ventured to speak of him to Dr. Masham, though not to her
+daughter, and this might account for that occasional agitation which
+Venetia had observed at his visits. And yet, and yet, and yet; in vain
+she reasoned. There is a strange sympathy which whispers convictions
+that no evidence can authorise, and no arguments dispel. Venetia
+Herbert, particularly as she grew older, could not refrain at times
+from yielding to the irresistible belief that her existence was
+enveloped in some mystery. Mystery too often presupposes the idea of
+guilt. Guilt! Who was guilty? Venetia shuddered at the current of her
+own thoughts. She started from the garden seat in which she had fallen
+into this dangerous and painful reverie; flew to her mother, who
+received her with smiles; and buried her face in the bosom of Lady
+Annabel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+We have indicated in a few pages the progress of three years. How
+differently passed to the two preceding ones, when the Cadurcis family
+were settled at the abbey! For during this latter period it seemed
+that not a single incident had occurred. They had glided away in one
+unbroken course of study, religion, and domestic love, the enjoyment
+of nature, and the pursuits of charity; like a long summer
+sabbath-day, sweet and serene and still, undisturbed by a single
+passion, hallowed and hallowing.
+
+If the Cadurcis family were now not absolutely forgotten at Cherbury,
+they were at least only occasionally remembered. These last three
+years so completely harmonised with the life of Venetia before their
+arrival, that, taking a general view of her existence, their residence
+at the abbey figured only as an episode in her career; active indeed
+and stirring, and one that had left some impressions not easily
+discarded; but, on the whole, mellowed by the magic of time, Venetia
+looked back to her youthful friendship as an event that was only an
+exception in her lot, and she viewed herself as a being born and bred
+up in a seclusion which she was never to quit, with no aspirations
+beyond the little world in which she moved, and where she was to die
+in peace, as she had lived in purity.
+
+One Sunday, the conversation after dinner fell upon Lord Cadurcis.
+Doctor Masham had recently met a young Etonian, and had made some
+inquiries about their friend of old days. The information he had
+obtained was not very satisfactory. It seemed that Cadurcis was a more
+popular boy with his companions than his tutors; he had been rather
+unruly, and had only escaped expulsion by the influence of his
+guardian, who was not only a great noble, but a powerful minister.
+
+This conversation recalled old times. They talked over the arrival of
+Mrs. Cadurcis at the abbey, her strange character, her untimely end.
+Lady Annabel expressed her conviction of the natural excellence of
+Plantagenet's disposition, and her regret of the many disadvantages
+under which he laboured; it gratified Venetia to listen to his praise.
+
+'He has quite forgotten us, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+'My love, he was very young when he quitted us,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and you must remember the influence of a change of life at so tender
+an age. He lives now in a busy world.'
+
+'I wish that he had not forgotten to write to us sometimes,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Writing a letter is a great achievement for a schoolboy,' said the
+Doctor; 'it is a duty which even grown-up persons too often forget
+to fulfil, and, when postponed, it is generally deferred for ever.
+However, I agree with Lady Annabel, Cadurcis was a fine fellow, and
+had he been properly brought up, I cannot help thinking, might have
+turned out something.'
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia, 'how I pity him. His was a terrible
+lot, to lose both his parents! Whatever were the errors of Mrs.
+Cadurcis, she was his mother, and, in spite of every mortification, he
+clung to her. Ah! I shall never forget when Pauncefort met him coming
+out of her room the night before the burial, when he said, with
+streaming eyes, "I only had one friend in the world, and now she is
+gone." I could not love Mrs. Cadurcis, and yet, when I heard of these
+words, I cried as much as he.'
+
+'Poor fellow!' said the Doctor, filling his glass.
+
+'If there be any person in the world whom I pity,' said Venetia, ''tis
+an orphan. Oh! what should I be without mamma? And Plantagenet, poor
+Plantagenet! he has no mother, no father.' Venetia added, with a
+faltering voice: 'I can sympathise with him in some degree; I, I, I
+know, I feel the misfortune, the misery;' her face became crimson, yet
+she could not restrain the irresistible words, 'the misery of never
+having known a father,' she added.
+
+There was a dead pause, a most solemn silence. In vain Venetia
+struggled to look calm and unconcerned; every instant she felt
+the blood mantling in her cheek with a more lively and spreading
+agitation. She dared not look up; it was not possible to utter a word
+to turn the conversation. She felt utterly confounded and absolutely
+mute. At length, Lady Annabel spoke. Her tone was severe and choking,
+very different to her usual silvery voice.
+
+'I am sorry that my daughter should feel so keenly the want of a
+parent's love,' said her ladyship.
+
+What would not Venetia have given for the power or speech! but
+it seemed to have deserted her for ever. There she sat mute and
+motionless, with her eyes fixed on the table, and with a burning
+cheek, as if she were conscious of having committed some act of shame,
+as if she had been detected in some base and degrading deed. Yet, what
+had she done? A daughter had delicately alluded to her grief at the
+loss of a parent, and expressed her keen sense of the deprivation.
+
+It was an autumnal afternoon: Doctor Masham looked at the sky, and,
+after a long pause, made an observation about the weather, and then
+requested permission to order his horses, as the evening came on
+apace, and he had some distance to ride. Lady Annabel rose; the
+Doctor, with a countenance unusually serious, offered her his arm; and
+Venetia followed them like a criminal. In a few minutes the horses
+appeared; Lady Annabel bid adieu to her friend in her usual kind tone,
+and with her usual sweet smile; and then, without noticing Venetia,
+instantly retired to her own chamber.
+
+And this was her mother; her mother who never before quitted her for
+an instant without some sign and symbol of affection, some playful
+word of love, a winning smile, a passing embrace, that seemed to
+acknowledge that the pang of even momentary separation could only be
+alleviated by this graceful homage to the heart. What had she done?
+Venetia was about to follow Lady Annabel, but she checked herself.
+Agony at having offended her mother, and, for the first time, was
+blended with a strange curiosity as to the cause, and some hesitating
+indignation at her treatment. Venetia remained anxiously awaiting
+the return of Lady Annabel; but her ladyship did not reappear. Every
+instant, the astonishment and the grief of Venetia increased. It was
+the first domestic difference that had occurred between them. It
+shocked her much. She thought of Plantagenet and Mrs. Cadurcis. There
+was a mortifying resemblance, however slight, between the respective
+situations of the two families. Venetia, too, had quarrelled with her
+mother; that mother who, for fourteen years, had only looked upon her
+with fondness and joy; who had been ever kind, without being ever
+weak, and had rendered her child happy by making her good; that mother
+whose beneficent wisdom had transformed duty into delight; that
+superior, yet gentle being, so indulgent yet so just, so gifted yet so
+condescending, who dedicated all her knowledge, and time, and care,
+and intellect to her daughter.
+
+Venetia threw herself upon a couch and wept. They were the first tears
+of unmixed pain that she had ever shed. It was said by the household
+of Venetia when a child, that she had never cried; not a single tear
+had ever sullied that sunny face. Surrounded by scenes of innocence,
+and images of happiness and content, Venetia smiled on a world that
+smiled on her, the radiant heroine of a golden age. She had, indeed,
+wept over the sorrows and the departure of Cadurcis; but those were
+soft showers of sympathy and affection sent from a warm heart, like
+drops from a summer sky. But now this grief was agony: her brow
+throbbed, her hand was clenched, her heart beat with tumultuous
+palpitation; the streaming torrent came scalding down her cheek like
+fire rather than tears, and instead of assuaging her emotion, seemed,
+on the contrary, to increase its fierce and fervid power.
+
+The sun had set, the red autumnal twilight had died away, the shadows
+of night were brooding over the halls of Cherbury. The moan of the
+rising wind might be distinctly heard, and ever and anon the branches
+of neighbouring trees swung with a sudden yet melancholy sound against
+the windows of the apartment, of which the curtains had remained
+undrawn. Venetia looked up; the room would have been in perfect
+darkness but for a glimmer which just indicated the site of the
+expiring fire, and an uncertain light, or rather modified darkness,
+that seemed the sky. Alone and desolate! Alone and desolate and
+unhappy! Alone and desolate and unhappy, and for the first time! Was
+it a sigh, or a groan, that issued from the stifling heart of Venetia
+Herbert? That child of innocence, that bright emanation of love and
+beauty, that airy creature of grace and gentleness, who had never said
+an unkind word or done an unkind thing in her whole career, but had
+glanced and glided through existence, scattering happiness and
+joy, and receiving the pleasure which she herself imparted, how
+overwhelming was her first struggle with that dark stranger, Sorrow!
+
+Some one entered the room; it was Mistress Pauncefort. She held a
+taper in her hand, and came tripping gingerly in, with a new cap
+streaming with ribands, and scarcely, as it were, condescending to
+execute the mission with which she was intrusted, which was no greater
+than fetching her lady's reticule. She glanced at the table, but it
+was not there; she turned up her nose at a chair or two, which she
+even condescended to propel a little with a saucy foot, as if the
+reticule might be hid under the hanging drapery, and then, unable to
+find the object of her search, Mistress Pauncefort settled herself
+before the glass, elevating the taper above her head, that she might
+observe what indeed she had been examining the whole day, the effect
+of her new cap. With a complacent simper, Mistress Pauncefort then
+turned from pleasure to business, and, approaching the couch, gave
+a faint shriek, half genuine, half affected, as she recognised the
+recumbent form of her young mistress. 'Well to be sure,' exclaimed
+Mistress Pauncefort, 'was the like ever seen! Miss Venetia, as I live!
+La! Miss Venetia, what can be the matter? I declare I am all of a
+palpitation.'
+
+Venetia, affecting composure, said she was rather unwell; that she
+had a headache, and, rising, murmured that she would go to bed. 'A
+headache!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, 'I hope no worse, for there
+is my lady, and she is as out of sorts as possible. She has a headache
+too; and when I shut the door just now, I am sure as quiet as a lamb,
+she told me not to make so much noise when I left the room. "Noise!"
+says I; "why really, my lady, I don't pretend to be a spirit; but if
+it comes to noise--" "Never answer me, Pauncefort," says my lady. "No,
+my lady," says I, "I never do, and, I am sure, when I have a headache
+myself, I don't like to be answered." But, to be sure, if you have a
+headache, and my lady has a headache too, I only hope we have not got
+the epidemy. I vow, Miss Venetia, that your eyes are as red as if you
+had been running against the wind. Well, to be sure, if you have not
+been crying! I must go and tell my lady immediately.'
+
+'Light me to my room,' said Venetia; 'I will not disturb my mother, as
+she is unwell.'
+
+Venetia rose, and Mistress Pauncefort followed her to her chamber, and
+lit her candles. Venetia desired her not to remain; and when she had
+quitted the chamber, Venetia threw herself in her chair and sighed.
+
+To sleep, it was impossible; it seemed to Venetia that she could never
+rest again. She wept no more, but her distress was very great. She
+felt it impossible to exist through the night without being reconciled
+to her mother; but she refrained from going to her room, from the fear
+of again meeting her troublesome attendant. She resolved, therefore,
+to wait until she heard Mistress Pauncefort retire for the night, and
+she listened with restless anxiety for the sign of her departure in
+the sound of her footsteps along the vestibule on which the doors of
+Lady Annabel's and her daughter's apartments opened.
+
+An hour elapsed, and at length the sound was heard. Convinced that
+Pauncefort had now quitted her mother for the night, Venetia ventured
+forth, and stopping before the door of her mother's room, she knocked
+gently. There was no reply, and in a few minutes Venetia knocked
+again, and rather louder. Still no answer. 'Mamma,' said Venetia, in a
+faltering tone, but no sound replied. Venetia then tried the door,
+and found it fastened. Then she gave up the effort in despair, and
+retreating to her own chamber, she threw herself on her bed, and wept
+bitterly.
+
+Some time elapsed before she looked up again; the candles were flaring
+in their sockets. It was a wild windy night; Venetia rose, and
+withdrew the curtain of her window. The black clouds were scudding
+along the sky, revealing, in their occasional but transient rifts,
+some glimpses of the moon, that seemed unusually bright, or of a star
+that trembled with supernatural brilliancy. She stood a while gazing
+on the outward scene that harmonised with her own internal agitation:
+her grief was like the storm, her love like the light of that bright
+moon and star. There came over her a desire to see her mother, which
+she felt irresistible; she was resolved that no difficulty, no
+impediment, should prevent her instantly from throwing herself on her
+bosom. It seemed to her that her brain would burn, that this awful
+night could never end without such an interview. She opened her door,
+went forth again into the vestibule, and approached with a nervous but
+desperate step her mother's chamber. To her astonishment the door was
+ajar, but there was a light within. With trembling step and downcast
+eyes, Venetia entered the chamber, scarcely daring to advance, or to
+look up.
+
+'Mother,' she said, but no one answered; she heard the tick of the
+clock; it was the only sound. 'Mother,' she repeated, and she dared to
+look up, but the bed was empty. There was no mother. Lady Annabel was
+not in the room. Following an irresistible impulse, Venetia knelt by
+the side of her mother's bed and prayed. She addressed, in audible and
+agitated tones, that Almighty and Beneficent Being of whom she was
+so faithful and pure a follower. With sanctified simplicity, she
+communicated to her Creator and her Saviour all her distress, all her
+sorrow, all the agony of her perplexed and wounded spirit. If she had
+sinned, she prayed for forgiveness, and declared in solitude, to One
+whom she could not deceive, how unintentional was the trespass; if she
+were only misapprehended, she supplicated for comfort and consolation,
+for support under the heaviest visitation she had yet experienced, the
+displeasure of that earthly parent whom she revered only second to her
+heavenly Father.
+
+'For thou art my Father,' said Venetia, 'I have no other father
+but thee, O God! Forgive me, then, my heavenly parent, if in my
+wilfulness, if in my thoughtless and sinful blindness, I have sighed
+for a father on earth, as well as in heaven! Great have thy mercies
+been to me, O God! in a mother's love. Turn, then, again to me the
+heart of that mother whom I have offended! Let her look upon her child
+as before; let her continue to me a double parent, and let me pay to
+her the duty and the devotion that might otherwise have been divided!'
+
+'Amen!' said a sweet and solemn voice; and Venetia was clasped in her
+mother's arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+If the love of Lady Annabel for her child were capable of increase, it
+might have been believed that it absolutely became more profound and
+ardent after that short-lived but painful estrangement which we have
+related in the last chapter. With all Lady Annabel's fascinating
+qualities and noble virtues, a fine observer of human nature enjoying
+opportunities of intimately studying her character, might have
+suspected that an occasion only was wanted to display or develop in
+that lady's conduct no trifling evidence of a haughty, proud, and even
+inexorable spirit. Circumstanced as she was at Cherbury, with no one
+capable or desirous of disputing her will, the more gracious and
+exalted qualities of her nature were alone apparent. Entertaining a
+severe, even a sublime sense of the paramount claims of duty in all
+conditions and circumstances of life, her own conduct afforded an
+invariable and consistent example of her tenet; from those around her
+she required little, and that was cheerfully granted; while, on the
+other hand, her more eminent situation alike multiplied her own
+obligations and enabled her to fulfil them; she appeared, therefore,
+to pass her life in conferring happiness and in receiving gratitude.
+Strictly religious, of immaculate reputation, rigidly just,
+systematically charitable, dignified in her manners, yet more than
+courteous to her inferiors, and gifted at the same time with great
+self-control and great decision, she was looked up to by all within
+her sphere with a sentiment of affectionate veneration. Perhaps there
+was only one person within her little world who, both by disposition
+and relative situation, was qualified in any way to question her
+undoubted sway, or to cross by independence of opinion the tenour of
+the discipline she had established, and this was her child. Venetia,
+with one of the most affectionate and benevolent natures in the world,
+was gifted with a shrewd, inquiring mind, and a restless imagination.
+She was capable of forming her own opinions, and had both reason and
+feeling at command to gauge their worth. But to gain an influence over
+this child had been the sole object of Lady Annabel's life, and she
+had hitherto met that success which usually awaits in this world the
+strong purpose of a determined spirit. Lady Annabel herself was far
+too acute a person not to have detected early in life the talents of
+her child, and she was proud of them. She had cultivated them with
+exemplary devotion and with admirable profit. But Lady Annabel had not
+less discovered that, in the ardent and susceptible temperament of
+Venetia, means were offered by which the heart might be trained not
+only to cope with but overpower the intellect. With great powers of
+pleasing, beauty, accomplishments, a sweet voice, a soft manner, a
+sympathetic heart, Lady Annabel was qualified to charm the world; she
+had contrived to fascinate her daughter. She had inspired Venetia with
+the most romantic attachment for her: such as rather subsists
+between two female friends of the same age and hearts, than between
+individuals in the relative situations which they bore to each other.
+Yet while Venetia thus loved her mother, she could not but also
+respect and revere the superior being whose knowledge was her guide on
+all subjects, and whose various accomplishments deprived her secluded
+education of all its disadvantages; and when she felt that one so
+gifted had devoted her life to the benefit of her child, and that
+this beautiful and peerless lady had no other ambition but to be
+her guardian and attendant spirit; gratitude, fervent and profound,
+mingled with admiring reverence and passionate affection, and together
+formed a spell that encircled the mind of Venetia with talismanic
+sway.
+
+Under the despotic influence of these enchanted feelings, Venetia
+was fast growing into womanhood, without a single cloud having ever
+disturbed or sullied the pure and splendid heaven of her domestic
+life. Suddenly the horizon had become clouded, a storm had gathered
+and burst, and an eclipse could scarcely have occasioned more terror
+to the untutored roamer of the wilderness, than this unexpected
+catastrophe to one so inexperienced in the power of the passions as
+our heroine. Her heaven was again serene; but such was the effect
+of this ebullition on her character, so keen was her dread of again
+encountering the agony of another misunderstanding with her mother,
+that she recoiled with trembling from that subject which had so often
+and so deeply engaged her secret thoughts; and the idea of her father,
+associated as it now was with pain, mortification, and misery, never
+rose to her imagination but instantly to be shunned as some unhallowed
+image, of which the bitter contemplation was fraught with not less
+disastrous consequences than the denounced idolatry of the holy
+people.
+
+Whatever, therefore, might be the secret reasons which impelled Lady
+Annabel to shroud the memory of the lost parent of her child in such
+inviolate gloom, it is certain that the hitherto restless though
+concealed curiosity of Venetia upon the subject, the rash
+demonstration to which it led, and the consequence of her boldness,
+instead of threatening to destroy in an instant the deep and matured
+system of her mother, had, on the whole, greatly contributed to the
+fulfilment of the very purpose for which Lady Annabel had so long
+laboured. That lady spared no pains in following up the advantage
+which her acuteness and knowledge of her daughter's character assured
+her that she had secured. She hovered round her child more like an
+enamoured lover than a fond mother; she hung upon her looks, she read
+her thoughts, she anticipated every want and wish; her dulcet tones
+seemed even sweeter than before; her soft and elegant manners even
+more tender and refined. Though even in her childhood Lady Annabel had
+rather guided than commanded Venetia; now she rather consulted than
+guided her. She seized advantage of the advanced character and mature
+appearance of Venetia to treat her as a woman rather than a child, and
+as a friend rather than a daughter. Venetia yielded herself up to this
+flattering and fascinating condescension. Her love for her mother
+amounted to passion; she had no other earthly object or desire but to
+pass her entire life in her sole and sweet society; she could conceive
+no sympathy deeper or more delightful; the only unhappiness she
+had ever known had been occasioned by a moment trenching upon its
+exclusive privilege; Venetia could not picture to herself that such a
+pure and entrancing existence could ever experience a change.
+
+And this mother, this devoted yet mysterious mother, jealous of her
+child's regret for a father that she had lost, and whom she had never
+known! shall we ever penetrate the secret of her heart?
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+It was in the enjoyment of these exquisite feelings that a year,
+and more than another year, elapsed at our lone hall of Cherbury.
+Happiness and content seemed at least the blessed destiny of the
+Herberts. Venetia grew in years, and grace, and loveliness; each day
+apparently more her mother's joy, and each day bound to that mother
+by, if possible, more ardent love. She had never again experienced
+those uneasy thoughts which at times had haunted her from her infancy;
+separated from her mother, indeed, scarcely for an hour together, she
+had no time to muse. Her studies each day becoming more various and
+interesting, and pursued with so gifted and charming a companion,
+entirely engrossed her; even the exercise that was her relaxation was
+participated by Lady Annabel; and the mother and daughter, bounding
+together on their steeds, were fanned by the same breeze, and
+freshened by the same graceful and healthy exertion.
+
+One day the post, that seldom arrived at Cherbury, brought a letter to
+Lady Annabel, the perusal of which evidently greatly agitated her.
+Her countenance changed as her eye glanced over the pages; her hand
+trembled as she held it. But she made no remark; and succeeded in
+subduing her emotion so quickly that Venetia, although she watched
+her mother with anxiety, did not feel justified in interfering with
+inquiring sympathy. But while Lady Annabel resumed her usual calm
+demeanour, she relapsed into unaccustomed silence, and, soon rising
+from the breakfast table, moved to the window, and continued
+apparently gazing on the garden, with her face averted from Venetia
+for some time. At length she turned to her, and said, 'I think,
+Venetia, of calling on the Doctor to-day; there is business on which I
+wish to consult him, but I will not trouble you, dearest, to accompany
+me. I must take the carriage, and it is a long and tiring drive.'
+
+There was a tone of decision even in the slightest observations of
+Lady Annabel, which, however sweet might be the voice in which they
+were uttered, scarcely encouraged their propriety to be canvassed. Now
+Venetia was far from desirous of being separated from her mother this
+morning. It was not a vain and idle curiosity, prompted by the receipt
+of the letter and its consequent effects, both in the emotion of her
+mother and the visit which it had rendered necessary, that swayed her
+breast. The native dignity of a well-disciplined mind exempted Venetia
+from such feminine weakness. But some consideration might be due to
+the quick sympathy of an affectionate spirit that had witnessed, with
+corresponding feeling, the disturbance of the being to whom she was
+devoted. Why this occasional and painful mystery that ever and anon
+clouded the heaven of their love, and flung a frigid shadow over the
+path of a sunshiny life? Why was not Venetia to share the sorrow or
+the care of her only friend, as well as participate in her joy and her
+content? There were other claims, too, to this confidence, besides
+those of the heart. Lady Annabel was not merely her only friend; she
+was her parent, her only parent, almost, for aught she had ever heard
+or learnt, her only relative. For her mother's family, though she was
+aware of their existence by the freedom with which Lady Annabel ever
+mentioned them, and though Venetia was conscious that an occasional
+correspondence was maintained between them and Cherbury, occupied no
+station in Venetia's heart, scarcely in her memory. That noble family
+were nullities to her; far distant, apparently estranged from her
+hearth, except in form she had never seen them; they were associated
+in her recollection with none of the sweet ties of kindred. Her
+grandfather was dead without her ever having received his blessing;
+his successor, her uncle, was an ambassador, long absent from his
+country; her only aunt married to a soldier, and established at a
+foreign station. Venetia envied Dr. Masham the confidence which was
+extended to him; it seemed to her, even leaving out of sight the
+intimate feelings that subsisted between her and her mother, that the
+claims of blood to this confidence were at least as strong as those of
+friendship. But Venetia stifled these emotions; she parted from her
+mother with a kind, yet somewhat mournful expression. Lady Annabel
+might have read a slight sentiment of affectionate reproach in the
+demeanour of her daughter when she bade her farewell. Whatever might
+be the consciousness of the mother, she was successful in concealing
+her impression. Very kind, but calm and inscrutable, Lady Annabel,
+having given directions for postponing the dinner-hour, embraced her
+child and entered the chariot.
+
+Venetia, from the terrace, watched her mother's progress through the
+park. After gazing for some minutes, a tear stole down her cheek. She
+started, as if surprised at her own emotion. And now the carriage
+was out of sight, and Venetia would have recurred to some of those
+resources which were ever at hand for the employment or amusement of
+her secluded life. But the favourite volume ceased to interest this
+morning, and almost fell from her hand. She tried her spinet, but her
+ear seemed to have lost its music; she looked at her easel, but the
+cunning had fled from her touch.
+
+Restless and disquieted, she knew not why, Venetia went forth again
+into the garden. All nature smiled around her; the flitting birds were
+throwing their soft shadows over the sunny lawns, and rustling amid
+the blossoms of the variegated groves. The golden wreaths of the
+laburnum and the silver knots of the chestnut streamed and glittered
+around; the bees were as busy as the birds, and the whole scene was
+suffused and penetrated with brilliancy and odour. It still was
+spring, and yet the gorgeous approach of summer, like the advancing
+procession of some triumphant king, might almost be detected amid the
+lingering freshness of the year; a lively and yet magnificent period,
+blending, as it were, Attic grace with Roman splendour; a time when
+hope and fruition for once meet, when existence is most full of
+delight, alike delicate and voluptuous, and when the human frame is
+most sensible to the gaiety and grandeur of nature.
+
+And why was not the spirit of the beautiful and innocent Venetia as
+bright as the surrounding scene? There are moods of mind that baffle
+analysis, that arise from a mysterious sympathy we cannot penetrate.
+At this moment the idea of her father irresistibly recurred to the
+imagination of Venetia. She could not withstand the conviction that
+the receipt of the mysterious letter and her mother's agitation were
+by some inexplicable connexion linked with that forbidden subject.
+Strange incidents of her life flitted across her memory: her mother
+weeping on the day they visited Marringhurst; the mysterious chambers;
+the nocturnal visit of Lady Annabel that Cadurcis had witnessed; her
+unexpected absence from her apartment when Venetia, in her despair,
+had visited her some months ago. What was the secret that enveloped
+her existence? Alone, which was unusual; dispirited, she knew not
+why; and brooding over thoughts which haunted her like evil spirits,
+Venetia at length yielded to a degree of nervous excitement which
+amazed her. She looked up to the uninhabited wing of the mansion with
+an almost fierce desire to penetrate its mysteries. It seemed to her
+that a strange voice came whispering on the breeze, urging her to the
+fulfilment of a mystical mission. With a vague, yet wild, purpose she
+entered the house, and took her way to her mother's chamber. Mistress
+Pauncefort was there. Venetia endeavoured to assume her accustomed
+serenity. The waiting-woman bustled about, arranging the toilet-table,
+which had been for a moment discomposed, putting away a cap, folding
+up a shawl, and indulging in a multitude of inane observations which
+little harmonised with the high-strung tension of Venetia's mind.
+Mistress Pauncefort opened a casket with a spring lock, in which she
+placed some trinkets of her mistress. Venetia stood by her in silence;
+her eye, vacant and wandering, beheld the interior of the casket.
+There must have been something in it, the sight of which greatly
+agitated her, for Venetia turned pale, and in a moment left the
+chamber and retired to her own room.
+
+She locked her door, threw herself in a chair; almost gasping for
+breath, she covered her face with her hands. It was some minutes
+before she recovered comparative composure; she rose and looked in
+the mirror; her face was quite white, but her eyes glittering with
+excitement. She walked up and down her room with a troubled step, and
+a scarlet flush alternately returned to and retired from her changing
+cheek. Then she leaned against a cabinet in thought. She was disturbed
+from her musings by the sound of Pauncefort's step along the
+vestibule, as she quitted her mother's chamber. In a few minutes
+Venetia herself stepped forth into the vestibule and listened. All was
+silent. The golden morning had summoned the whole household to its
+enjoyment. Not a voice, not a domestic sound, broke the complete
+stillness. Venetia again repaired to the apartment of Lady Annabel.
+Her step was light, but agitated; it seemed that she scarcely dared
+to breathe. She opened the door, rushed to the cabinet, pressed the
+spring lock, caught at something that it contained, and hurried again
+to her own chamber.
+
+And what is this prize that the trembling Venetia holds almost
+convulsively in her grasp, apparently without daring even to examine
+it? Is this the serene and light-hearted girl, whose face was like
+the cloudless splendour of a sunny day? Why is she so pallid and
+perturbed? What strong impulse fills her frame? She clutches in her
+hand a key!
+
+On that tempestuous night of passionate sorrow which succeeded the
+first misunderstanding between Venetia and her mother, when the voice
+of Lady Annabel had suddenly blended with that of her kneeling
+child, and had ratified with her devotional concurrence her wailing
+supplications; even at the moment when Venetia, in a rapture of love
+and duty, felt herself pressed to her mother's reconciled heart, it
+had not escaped her that Lady Annabel held in her hand a key; and
+though the feelings which that night had so forcibly developed, and
+which the subsequent conduct of Lady Annabel had so carefully and
+skilfully cherished, had impelled Venetia to banish and erase from her
+thought and memory all the associations which that spectacle, however
+slight, was calculated to awaken, still, in her present mood, the
+unexpected vision of the same instrument, identical she could not
+doubt, had triumphed in an instant over all the long discipline of
+her mind and conduct, in an instant had baffled and dispersed her
+self-control, and been hailed as the providential means by which she
+might at length penetrate that mystery which she now felt no longer
+supportable.
+
+The clock of the belfry of Cherbury at this moment struck, and Venetia
+instantly sprang from her seat. It reminded her of the preciousness
+of the present morning. Her mother was indeed absent, but her mother
+would return. Before that event a great fulfilment was to occur.
+Venetia, still grasping the key, as if it were the talisman of her
+existence, looked up to Heaven as if she required for her allotted
+task an immediate and special protection; her lips seemed to move, and
+then she again quitted her apartment. As she passed through an oriel
+in her way towards the gallery, she observed Pauncefort in the avenue
+of the park, moving in the direction of the keeper's lodge. This
+emboldened her. With a hurried step she advanced along the gallery,
+and at length stood before the long-sealed door that had so often
+excited her strange curiosity. Once she looked around; but no one was
+near, not a sound was heard. With a faltering hand she touched the
+lock; but her powers deserted her: for a minute she believed that the
+key, after all, would not solve the mystery. And yet the difficulty
+arose only from her own agitation. She rallied her courage; once more
+she made the trial; the key fitted with completeness, and the
+lock opened with ease, and Venetia found herself in a small and
+scantily-furnished ante-chamber. Closing the door with noiseless care,
+Venetia stood trembling in the mysterious chamber, where apparently
+there was nothing to excite wonder. The chamber into which the
+ante-room opened was still closed, and it was some minutes before the
+adventurous daughter of Lady Annabel could summon courage for the
+enterprise which awaited her.
+
+The door yielded without an effort. Venetia stepped into a spacious
+and lofty chamber. For a moment she paused almost upon the threshold,
+and looked around her with a vague and misty vision. Anon she
+distinguished something of the character of the apartment. In the
+recess of a large oriel window that looked upon the park, and of which
+the blinds were nearly drawn, was an old-fashioned yet sumptuous
+toilet-table of considerable size, arranged as if for use. Opposite
+this window, in a corresponding recess, was what might be deemed a
+bridal bed, its furniture being of white satin richly embroidered; the
+curtains half closed; and suspended from the canopy was a wreath of
+roses that had once emulated, or rather excelled, the lustrous purity
+of the hangings, but now were wan and withered. The centre of the
+inlaid and polished floor of the apartment was covered with a Tournay
+carpet of brilliant yet tasteful decoration. An old cabinet of
+fanciful workmanship, some chairs of ebony, and some girandoles of
+silver completed the furniture of the room, save that at its extreme
+end, exactly opposite to the door by which Venetia entered, covered
+with a curtain of green velvet, was what she concluded must be a
+picture.
+
+An awful stillness pervaded the apartment: Venetia herself, with
+a face paler even than the hangings of the mysterious bed, stood
+motionless with suppressed breath, gazing on the distant curtain with
+a painful glance of agitated fascination. At length, summoning her
+energies as if for the achievement of some terrible yet inevitable
+enterprise, she crossed the room, and averting her face, and closing
+her eyes in a paroxysm of nervous excitement, she stretched forth her
+arm, and with a rapid motion withdrew the curtain. The harsh sound of
+the brass rings drawn quickly over the rod, the only noise that had
+yet met her ear in this mystical chamber, made her start and tremble.
+She looked up, she beheld, in a broad and massy frame, the full-length
+portrait of a man.
+
+A man in the very spring of sunny youth, and of radiant beauty. Above
+the middle height, yet with a form that displayed exquisite grace, he
+was habited in a green tunic that enveloped his figure to advantage,
+and became the scene in which he was placed: a park, with a castle in
+the distance; while a groom at hand held a noble steed, that seemed
+impatient for the chase. The countenance of its intended rider met
+fully the gaze of the spectator. It was a countenance of singular
+loveliness and power. The lips and the moulding of the chin resembled
+the eager and impassioned tenderness of the shape of Antinous; but
+instead of the effeminate sullenness of the eye, and the narrow
+smoothness of the forehead, shone an expression of profound and
+piercing thought. On each side of the clear and open brow descended,
+even to the shoulders, the clustering locks of golden hair; while the
+eyes, large and yet deep, beamed with a spiritual energy, and shone
+like two wells of crystalline water that reflect the all-beholding
+heavens.
+
+Now when Venetia Herbert beheld this countenance a change came over
+her. It seemed that when her eyes met the eyes of the portrait, some
+mutual interchange of sympathy occurred between them. She freed
+herself in an instant from the apprehension and timidity that before
+oppressed her. Whatever might ensue, a vague conviction of having
+achieved a great object pervaded, as it were, her being. Some great
+end, vast though indefinite, had been fulfilled. Abstract and
+fearless, she gazed upon the dazzling visage with a prophetic heart.
+Her soul was in a tumult, oppressed with thick-coming fancies too big
+for words, panting for expression. There was a word which must be
+spoken: it trembled on her convulsive lip, and would not sound. She
+looked around her with an eye glittering with unnatural fire, as if to
+supplicate some invisible and hovering spirit to her rescue, or that
+some floating and angelic chorus might warble the thrilling word whose
+expression seemed absolutely necessary to her existence. Her cheek
+is flushed, her eye wild and tremulous, the broad blue veins of her
+immaculate brow quivering and distended; her waving hair falls back
+over her forehead, and rustles like a wood before the storm. She seems
+a priestess in the convulsive throes of inspiration, and about to
+breathe the oracle. The picture, as we have mentioned, was hung in
+a broad and massy frame. In the centre of its base was worked an
+escutcheon, and beneath the shield this inscription:
+
+    MARMION HERBERT, AET. XX.
+
+Yet there needed not these letters to guide the agitated spirit of
+Venetia, for, before her eye had reached them, the word was spoken;
+and falling on her knees before the portrait, the daughter of Lady
+Annabel had exclaimed, 'My father!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The daughter still kneels before the form of the father, of whom she
+had heard for the first time in her life. He is at length discovered.
+It was, then, an irresistible destiny that, after the wild musings and
+baffled aspirations of so many years, had guided her to this chamber.
+She is the child of Marmion Herbert; she beholds her lost parent. That
+being of supernatural beauty, on whom she gazes with a look of blended
+reverence and love, is her father. What a revelation! Its reality
+exceeded the wildest dreams of her romance; her brightest visions of
+grace and loveliness and genius seemed personified in this form; the
+form of one to whom she was bound by the strongest of all earthly
+ties, of one on whose heart she had a claim second only to that of the
+being by whose lips his name was never mentioned. Was he, then, no
+more? Ah! could she doubt that bitterest calamity? Ah! was it, was
+it any longer a marvel, that one who had lived in the light of those
+seraphic eyes, and had watched them until their terrestrial splendour
+had been for ever extinguished, should shrink from the converse that
+could remind her of the catastrophe of all her earthly hopes! This
+chamber, then, was the temple of her mother's woe, the tomb of her
+baffled affections and bleeding heart. No wonder that Lady Annabel,
+the desolate Lady Annabel, that almost the same spring must have
+witnessed the most favoured and the most disconsolate of women, should
+have fled from the world that had awarded her at the same time a lot
+so dazzling and so full of despair. Venetia felt that the existence
+of her mother's child, her own fragile being, could have been that
+mother's sole link to life. The heart of the young widow of Marmion
+Herbert must have broken but for Venetia; and the consciousness of
+that remaining tie, and the duties that it involved, could alone have
+sustained the victim under a lot of such unparalleled bitterness. The
+tears streamed down her cheek as she thought of her mother's misery,
+and her mother's gentle love; the misery that she had been so cautious
+her child should never share; the vigilant affection that, with all
+her own hopes blighted, had still laboured to compensate to her
+child for a deprivation the fulness of which Venetia could only now
+comprehend.
+
+When, where, why did he die? Oh that she might talk of him to her
+mother for ever! It seemed that life might pass away in listening to
+his praises. Marmion Herbert! and who was Marmion Herbert? Young as he
+was, command and genius, the pride of noble passions, all the glory of
+a creative mind, seemed stamped upon his brow. With all his marvellous
+beauty, he seemed a being born for greatness. Dead! in the very burst
+of his spring, a spring so sweet and splendid; could he be dead? Why,
+then, was he ever born? It seemed to her that he could not be dead;
+there was an animated look about the form, that seemed as if it could
+not die without leaving mankind a prodigal legacy of fame.
+
+Venetia turned and looked upon her parents' bridal bed. Now that
+she had discovered her father's portrait, every article in the room
+interested her, for her imagination connected everything with him. She
+touched the wreath of withered roses, and one instantly broke away
+from the circle, and fell; she knelt down, and gathered up the
+scattered leaves, and placed them in her bosom. She approached the
+table in the oriel: in its centre was a volume, on which reposed a
+dagger of curious workmanship; the volume bound in velvet, and the
+word 'ANNABEL' embroidered upon it in gold. Venetia unclasped it. The
+volume was his; in a fly-leaf were written these words:
+
+    'TO THE LADY OF MY LOVE, FROM HER MARMION HERBERT.'
+
+With a fluttering heart, yet sparkling eye, Venetia sank into a chair,
+which was placed before the table, with all her soul concentred in the
+contents of this volume. Leaning on her right hand, which shaded her
+agitated brow, she turned a page of the volume with a trembling hand.
+It contained a sonnet, delineating the feelings of a lover at the
+first sight of his beloved, a being to him yet unknown. Venetia
+perused with breathless interest the graceful and passionate picture
+of her mother's beauty. A series of similar compositions detailed the
+history of the poet's heart, and all the thrilling adventures of his
+enchanted life. Not an incident, not a word, not a glance, in that
+spell-bound prime of existence, that was not commemorated by his lyre
+in strains as sweet and as witching! Now he poured forth his passion;
+now his doubts; now his hopes; now came the glowing hour when he was
+first assured of his felicity; the next page celebrated her visit to
+the castle of his fathers; and another led her to the altar.
+
+With a flushed cheek and an excited eye, Venetia had rapidly pored
+over these ardent annals of the heart from whose blood she had sprung.
+She turns the page; she starts; the colour deserts her countenance;
+a mist glides over her vision; she clasps her hands with convulsive
+energy; she sinks back in her chair. In a few moments she extends one
+hand, as if fearful again to touch the book that had excited so much
+emotion, raises herself in her seat, looks around her with a vacant
+and perplexed gaze, apparently succeeds in collecting herself, and
+then seizes, with an eager grasp, the volume, and throwing herself on
+her, knees before the chair, her long locks hanging on each side over
+a cheek crimson as the sunset, loses her whole soul in the lines which
+the next page reveals.
+
+  ON THE NIGHT OUR DAUGHTER WAS BORN.
+
+  I.
+
+  Within our heaven of love, the new-born star
+  We long devoutly watched, like shepherd kings,
+  Steals into light, and, floating from afar,
+  Methinks some bright transcendent seraph sings,
+  Waving with flashing light her radiant wings,
+  Immortal welcome to the stranger fair:
+  To us a child is born. With transport clings
+  The mother to the babe she sighed to bear;
+  Of all our treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+  II.
+
+  My daughter! can it be a daughter now
+  Shall greet my being with her infant smile?
+  And shall I press that fair and taintless brow
+  With my fond lips, and tempt, with many a wile
+  Of playful love, those features to beguile
+  A parent with their mirth? In the wild sea
+  Of this dark life, behold a little isle
+  Rises amid the waters, bright and free,
+  A haven for my hopes of fond security!
+
+  III.
+
+  And thou shalt bear a name my line has loved,
+  And their fair daughters owned for many an age,
+  Since first our fiery blood a wanderer roved,
+  And made in sunnier lands his pilgrimage,
+  Where proud defiance with the waters wage
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard and honoured by the sage!
+  My own VENETIA now shall gild our bowers,
+  And with her spell enchain our life's enchanted hours!
+
+  IV.
+
+  Oh! if the blessing of a father's heart
+  Hath aught of sacred in its deep-breath'd prayer,
+  Skilled to thy gentle being to impart,
+  As thy bright form itself, a fate as fair;
+  On thee I breathe that blessing! Let me share,
+  O God! her joys; and if the dark behest
+  Of woe resistless, and avoidless care,
+  Hath, not gone forth, oh! spare this gentle guest.
+  And wreak thy needful wrath on my resigned breast!
+
+An hour elapsed, and Venetia did not move. Over and over again she
+conned the only address from the lips of her father that had ever
+reached her ear. A strange inspiration seconded the exertion of an
+exercised memory. The duty was fulfilled, the task completed. Then
+a sound was heard without. The thought that her mother had returned
+occurred to her; she looked up, the big tears streaming down her face;
+she listened, like a young hind just roused by the still-distant
+huntsman, quivering and wild: she listened, and she sprang up,
+replaced the volume, arranged the chair, cast one long, lingering,
+feverish glance at the portrait, skimmed through the room, hesitated
+one moment in the ante-chamber; opened, as all was silent, the no
+longer mysterious door, turned the noiseless lock, tripped lightly
+along the vestibule; glided into her mother's empty apartment,
+reposited the key that had opened so many wonders in the casket; and,
+then, having hurried to her own chamber, threw herself on her bed in a
+paroxysm of contending emotions, that left her no power of pondering
+over the strange discovery that had already given a new colour to her
+existence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Her mother had not returned; it was a false alarm; but Venetia could
+not quit her bed. There she remained, repeating to herself her
+father's verses. Then one thought alone filled her being. Was he dead?
+Was this fond father, who had breathed this fervent blessing over her
+birth, and invoked on his own head all the woe and misfortunes of her
+destiny, was he, indeed, no more? How swiftly must the arrow have sped
+after he received the announcement that a child was given to him,
+
+  Of all his treasured loves the long-expected heir!
+
+He could scarcely have embraced her ere the great Being, to whom he
+had offered his prayer, summoned him to his presence! Of that father
+she had not the slightest recollection; she had ascertained that she
+had reached Cherbury a child, even in arms, and she knew that her
+father had never lived under the roof. What an awful bereavement! Was
+it wonderful that her mother was inconsolable? Was it wonderful that
+she could not endure even his name to be mentioned in her presence;
+that not the slightest allusion to his existence could be tolerated by
+a wife who had been united to such a peerless being, only to behold
+him torn away from her embraces? Oh! could he, indeed, be dead? That
+inspired countenance that seemed immortal, had it in a moment been
+dimmed? and all the symmetry of that matchless form, had it indeed
+been long mouldering in the dust? Why should she doubt it? Ah! why,
+indeed? How could she doubt it? Why, ever and anon, amid the tumult of
+her excited mind, came there an unearthly whisper to her ear, mocking
+her with the belief that he still lived? But he was dead; he must be
+dead; and why did she live? Could she survive what she had seen and
+learnt this day? Did she wish to survive it? But her mother, her
+mother with all her sealed-up sorrows, had survived him. Why? For her
+sake; for her child; for 'his own Venetia!' His own!
+
+She clenched her feverish hand, her temples beat with violent
+palpitations, her brow was burning hot. Time flew on, and every minute
+Venetia was more sensible of the impossibility of rising to welcome
+her mother. That mother at length returned; Venetia could not again
+mistake the wheels of the returning carriage. Some minutes passed, and
+there was a knock at her door. With a choking voice Venetia bade them
+enter. It was Pauncefort.
+
+'Well, Miss,' she exclaimed, 'if you ayn't here, after all! I told my
+lady, "My lady," says I, "I am sure Miss Venetia must be in the park,
+for I saw her go out myself, and I have never seen her come home."
+And, after all, you are here. My lady has come home, you know, Miss,
+and has been inquiring for you several times.'
+
+'Tell mamma that I am not very well,' said Venetia, in a low voice,
+'and that I have been obliged to lie down.'
+
+'Not well, Miss,' exclaimed Pauncefort; 'and what can be the matter
+with you? I am afraid you have walked too much; overdone it, I dare
+say; or, mayhap, you have caught cold; it is an easterly wind: for I
+was saying to John this morning, "John," says I, "if Miss Venetia will
+walk about with only a handkerchief tied round her head, why, what can
+be expected?"'
+
+'I have only a headache, a very bad headache, Pauncefort; I wish to be
+quiet,' said Venetia.
+
+Pauncefort left the room accordingly, and straightway proceeded to
+Lady Annabel, when she communicated the information that Miss Venetia
+was in the house, after all, though she had never seen her return,
+and that she was lying down because she had a very bad headache. Lady
+Annabel, of course, did not lose a moment in visiting her darling. She
+entered the room softly, so softly that she was not heard; Venetia was
+lying on her bed, with her back to the door. Lady Annabel stood by her
+bedside for some moments unnoticed. At length Venetia heaved a
+deep sigh. Her mother then said in a soft voice, 'Are you in pain,
+darling?'
+
+'Is that mamma?' said Venetia, turning with quickness.
+
+'You are ill, dear,' said Lady Annabel, taking her hand. 'Your hand is
+hot; you are feverish. How long has my Venetia felt ill?'
+
+Venetia could not answer; she did nothing but sigh. Her strange manner
+excited her mother's wonder. Lady Annabel sat by the bedside, still
+holding her daughter's hand in hers, watching her with a glance of
+great anxiety.
+
+'Answer me, my love,' she repeated in a voice of tenderness. 'What do
+you feel?'
+
+'My head, my head,' murmured Venetia.
+
+Her mother pressed her own hand to her daughter's brow; it was very hot.
+'Does that pain you?' inquired Lady Annabel; but Venetia did not reply;
+her look was wild and abstracted. Her mother gently withdrew her hand,
+and then summoned Pauncefort, with whom she communicated without
+permitting her to enter the room.
+
+'Miss Herbert is very ill,' said Lady Annabel, pale, but in a firm
+tone. 'I am alarmed about her. She appears to me to have fever; send
+instantly to Southport for Mr. Hawkins; and let the messenger use
+and urge all possible expedition. Be in attendance in the vestibule,
+Pauncefort; I shall not quit her room, but she must be kept perfectly
+quiet.'
+
+Lady Annabel then drew her chair to the bedside of her daughter, and
+bathed her temples at intervals with rose-water; but none of these
+attentions apparently attracted the notice of the sufferer. She was,
+it would seem, utterly unconscious of all that was occurring. She now
+lay with her face turned towards her mother, but did not exchange even
+looks with her. She was restless, and occasionally she sighed deeply.
+
+Once, by way of experiment, Lady Annabel again addressed her, but
+Venetia gave no answer. Then the mother concluded what, indeed, had
+before attracted her suspicion, that Venetia's head was affected. But
+then, what was this strange, this sudden attack, which appeared to
+have prostrated her daughter's faculties in an instant? A few hours
+back, and Lady Annabel had parted from Venetia in all the glow of
+health and beauty. The season was most genial; her exercise had
+doubtless been moderate; as for her general health, so complete was
+her constitution, and so calm the tenour of her life, that Venetia
+had scarcely experienced in her whole career a single hour of
+indisposition. It was an anxious period of suspense until the medical
+attendant arrived from Southport. Fortunately he was one in whom, from
+reputation, Lady Annabel was disposed to place great trust; and his
+matured years, his thoughtful manner, and acute inquiries, confirmed
+her favourable opinion of him. All that Mr. Hawkins could say,
+however, was, that Miss Herbert had a great deal of fever, but the
+cause was concealed, and the suddenness of the attack perplexed him.
+He administered one of the usual remedies; and after an hour had
+elapsed, and no favourable change occurring, he blooded her. He
+quitted Cherbury, with the promise of returning late in the evening,
+having several patients whom he was obliged to visit.
+
+The night drew on; the chamber was now quite closed, but Lady Annabel
+never quitted it. She sat reading, removed from her daughter, that her
+presence might not disturb her, for Venetia seemed inclined to sleep.
+Suddenly Venetia spoke; but she said only one word, 'Father!'
+
+Lady Annabel started; her book nearly fell from her hand; she grew
+very pale. Quite breathless, she listened, and again Venetia spoke,
+and again called upon her father. Now, with a great effort, Lady
+Annabel stole on tiptoe to the bedside of her daughter. Venetia was
+lying on her back, her eyes were closed, her lips still as it were
+quivering with the strange word they had dared to pronounce. Again
+her voice sounded; she chanted, in an unearthly voice, verses. The
+perspiration stood in large drops on the pallid forehead of the mother
+as she listened. Still Venetia proceeded; and Lady Annabel, throwing
+herself on her knees, held up her hands to Heaven in an agony of
+astonishment, terror, and devotion.
+
+Now there was again silence; but her mother remained apparently buried
+in prayer. Again Venetia spoke; again she repeated the mysterious
+stanzas. With convulsive agony her mother listened to every fatal line
+that she unconsciously pronounced.
+
+The secret was then discovered. Yes! Venetia must have penetrated the
+long-closed chamber; all the labours of years had in a moment been
+subverted; Venetia had discovered her parent, and the effects of the
+discovery might, perhaps, be her death. Then it was that Lady Annabel,
+in the torture of her mind, poured forth her supplications that the
+life or the heart of her child might never be lost to her, 'Grant, O
+merciful God!' she exclaimed, 'that this sole hope of my being may be
+spared to me. Grant, if she be spared, that she may never desert her
+mother! And for him, of whom she has heard this day for the first
+time, let him be to her as if he were no more! May she never learn
+that he lives! May she never comprehend the secret agony of her
+mother's life! Save her, O God! save her from his fatal, his
+irresistible influence! May she remain pure and virtuous as she has
+yet lived! May she remain true to thee, and true to thy servant, who
+now bows before thee! Look down upon me at this moment with gracious
+mercy; turn to me my daughter's heart; and, if it be my dark doom to
+be in this world a widow, though a wife, add not to this bitterness
+that I shall prove a mother without a child!'
+
+At this moment the surgeon returned. It was absolutely necessary that
+Lady Annabel should compose herself. She exerted all that strength of
+character for which she was remarkable. From this moment she resolved,
+if her life were the forfeit, not to quit for an instant the bedside
+of Venetia until she was declared out of danger; and feeling conscious
+that if she once indulged her own feelings, she might herself soon
+be in a situation scarcely less hazardous than her daughter's, she
+controlled herself with a mighty effort. Calm as a statue, she
+received the medical attendant, who took the hand of the unconscious
+Venetia with apprehension too visibly impressed upon his grave
+countenance. As he took her hand, Venetia opened her eyes, stared at
+her mother and her attendant, and then immediately closed them.
+
+'She has slept?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'No,' said the surgeon, 'no: this is not sleep; it is a feverish
+trance that brings her no refreshment.' He took out his watch, and
+marked her pulse with great attention; then he placed his hand on her
+brow, and shook his head. 'These beautiful curls must come off,' he
+said. Lady Annabel glided to the table, and instantly brought the
+scissors, as if the delay of an instant might be fatal. The surgeon
+cut off those long golden locks. Venetia raised her hand to her head,
+and said, in a low voice, 'They are for my father.' Lady Annabel leant
+upon the surgeon's arm and shook.
+
+Now he led the mother to the window, and spoke in a hushed tone.
+
+'Is it possible that there is anything on your daughter's mind, Lady
+Annabel?' he inquired.
+
+The agitated mother looked at the inquirer, and then at her daughter;
+and then for a moment she raised her hand to her eyes; then she
+replied, in a low but firm voice, 'Yes.'
+
+'Your ladyship must judge whether you wish me to be acquainted with
+it,' said Mr. Hawkins, calmly.
+
+'My daughter has suddenly become acquainted, sir, with some family
+incidents of a painful nature, and the knowledge of which I have
+hitherto spared her. They are events long past, and their consequences
+are now beyond all control.'
+
+'She knows, then, the worst?'
+
+'Without her mind, I cannot answer that question,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is my duty to tell you that Miss Herbert is in imminent danger;
+she has every appearance of a fever of a malignant character. I cannot
+answer for her life.'
+
+'O God!' exclaimed Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yet you must compose yourself, my dear lady. Her chance of recovery
+greatly depends upon the vigilance of her attendants. I shall bleed
+her again, and place leeches on her temples. There is inflammation on
+the brain. There are other remedies also not less powerful. We must
+not despair; we have no cause to despair until we find these fail. I
+shall not leave her again; and, for your satisfaction, not for my own,
+I shall call in additional advice, the aid of a physician.'
+
+A messenger accordingly was instantly despatched for the physician,
+who resided at a town more distant than Southport; the very town,
+by-the-bye, where Morgana, the gipsy, was arrested. They contrived,
+with the aid of Pauncefort, to undress Venetia, and place her in her
+bed, for hitherto they had refrained from this exertion. At this
+moment the withered leaves of a white rose fell from Venetia's dress.
+A sofa-bed was then made for Lady Annabel, of which, however, she did
+not avail herself. The whole night she sat by her daughter's side,
+watching every movement of Venetia, refreshing her hot brow and
+parched lips, or arranging, at every opportunity, her disordered
+pillows. About an hour past midnight the surgeon retired to rest, for
+a few hours, in the apartment prepared for him, and Pauncefort, by the
+desire of her mistress, also withdrew: Lady Annabel was alone with her
+child, and with those agitated thoughts which the strange occurrences
+of the day were well calculated to excite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Early in the morning the physician arrived at Cherbury. It remained
+for him only to approve of the remedies which had been pursued. No
+material change, however, had occurred in the state of Venetia: she
+had not slept, and still she seemed unconscious of what was occurring.
+The gracious interposition of Nature seemed the only hope. When the
+medical men had withdrawn to consult in the terrace-room, Lady Annabel
+beckoned to Pauncefort, and led her to the window of Venetia's
+apartment, which she would not quit.
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel, 'Venetia has been in her father's
+room.'
+
+'Oh! impossible, my lady,' burst forth Mistress Pauncefort; but Lady
+Annabel placed her finger on her lip, and checked her. 'There is no
+doubt of it, there can be no doubt of it, Pauncefort; she entered it
+yesterday; she must have passed the morning there, when you believed
+she was in the park.'
+
+'But, my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'how could it be? For I scarcely left
+your la'ship's room a second, and Miss Venetia, I am sure, never was
+near it. And the key, my lady, the key is in the casket. I saw it half
+an hour ago with my own eyes.'
+
+'There is no use arguing about it, Pauncefort,' said Lady Annabel,
+with decision. 'It is as I say. I fear great misfortunes are about to
+commence at Cherbury.'
+
+'Oh! my lady, don't think of such things,' said Pauncefort, herself
+not a little alarmed. 'What can happen?'
+
+'I fear more than I know,' said Lady Annabel; 'but I do fear much. At
+present I can only think of her.'
+
+'Well! my lady,' said poor Mistress Pauncefort, looking bewildered,
+'only to think of such a thing! and after all the pains I have taken!
+I am sure I have not opened my lips on the subject these fifteen
+years; and the many questions I have been asked too! I am sure there
+is not a servant in the house--'
+
+'Hush! hush!' said Lady Annabel, 'I do not blame you, and therefore
+you need not defend yourself. Go, Pauncefort, I must be alone.'
+Pauncefort withdrew, and Lady Annabel resumed her seat by her
+daughter's side.
+
+On the fourth day of her attack the medical attendants observed a
+favourable change in their patient, and were not, of course, slow in
+communicating this joyful intelligence to her mother. The crisis had
+occurred and was past: Venetia had at length sunk into slumber. How
+different was her countenance from the still yet settled features
+they had before watched with such anxiety! She breathed lightly, the
+tension of the eyelids had disappeared, her mouth was slightly open.
+The physician and his colleague declared that immediate danger was
+past, and they counselled Lady Annabel to take repose. On condition
+that one of them should remain by the side of her daughter, the
+devoted yet miserable mother quitted, for the first time her child's
+apartment. Pauncefort followed her to her room.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Pauncefort, 'I am so glad your la'ship is going to
+lie down a bit.'
+
+'I am not going to lie down, Pauncefort. Give me the key.'
+
+And Lady Annabel proceeded alone to the forbidden chamber, that
+chamber which, after what has occurred, we may now enter with her, and
+where, with so much labour, she had created a room exactly imitative
+of their bridal apartment at her husband's castle. With a slow but
+resolved step she entered the apartment, and proceeding immediately to
+the table, took up the book; it opened at the stanzas to Venetia. The
+pages had recently been bedewed with tears. Lady Annabel then looked
+at the bridal bed, and marked the missing rose in the garland: it was
+as she expected. She seated herself then in the chair opposite the
+portrait, on which she gazed with a glance rather stern than fond.
+
+'Marmion,' she exclaimed, 'for fifteen years, a solitary votary,
+I have mourned over, in this temple of baffled affections, the
+inevitable past. The daughter of our love has found her way, perhaps
+by an irresistible destiny, to a spot sacred to my long-concealed
+sorrows. At length she knows her father. May she never know more! May
+she never learn that the being, whose pictured form has commanded her
+adoration, is unworthy of those glorious gifts that a gracious Creator
+has bestowed upon him! Marmion, you seem to smile upon me; you seem
+to exult in your triumph over the heart of your child. But there is a
+power in a mother's love that yet shall baffle you. Hitherto I have
+come here to deplore the past; hitherto I have come here to dwell
+upon the form that, in spite of all that has happened, I still was,
+perhaps, weak enough, to love. Those feelings are past for ever. Yes!
+you would rob me of my child, you would tear from my heart the only
+consolation you have left me. But Venetia shall still be mine; and
+I, I am no longer yours. Our love, our still lingering love, has
+vanished. You have been my enemy, now I am yours. I gaze upon your
+portrait for the last time; and thus I prevent the magical fascination
+of that face again appealing to the sympathies of my child. Thus and
+thus!' She seized the ancient dagger that we have mentioned as lying
+on the volume, and, springing on the chair, she plunged it into the
+canvas; then, tearing with unflinching resolution the severed parts,
+she scattered the fragments over the chamber, shook into a thousand
+leaves the melancholy garland, tore up the volume of his enamoured
+Muse, and then quitting the chamber, and locking and double locking
+the door, she descended the staircase, and proceeding to the great
+well of Cherbury, hurled into it the fatal key.
+
+'Oh! my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort, as she met Lady Annabel
+returning in the vestibule, 'Doctor Masham is here.'
+
+'Is he?' said Lady Annabel, as calm as usual. 'I will see him before I
+lie down. Do not go into Venetia's room. She sleeps, and Mr. Hawkins
+has promised me to let me know when she wakes.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+As Lady Annabel entered the terrace-room, Doctor Masham came forward
+and grasped her hand.
+
+'You have heard of our sorrow!' said her ladyship in a faint voice.
+
+'But this instant,' replied the Doctor, in a tone of great anxiety.'
+Immediate danger--'
+
+'Is past. She sleeps,' replied Lady Annabel.
+
+'A most sudden and unaccountable attack,' said the Doctor.
+
+It is difficult to describe the contending emotions of the mother as
+her companion made this observation. At length she replied, 'Sudden,
+certainly sudden; but not unaccountable. Oh! my friend,' she added,
+after a moment's pause, 'they will not be content until they have torn
+my daughter from me.'
+
+'They tear your daughter from you!' exclaimed Doctor Masham. 'Who?'
+
+'He, he,' muttered Lady Annabel; her speech was incoherent, her manner
+very disturbed.
+
+'My dear lady,' said the Doctor, gazing on her with extreme anxiety,
+'you are yourself unwell.'
+
+Lady Annabel heaved a deep sigh; the Doctor bore her to a seat. 'Shall
+I send for any one, anything?'
+
+'No one, no one,' quickly answered Lady Annabel. 'With you, at least,
+there is no concealment necessary.'
+
+She leant back in her chair, the Doctor holding her hand, and standing
+by her side.
+
+Still Lady Annabel continued sighing deeply: at length she looked up
+and said, 'Does she love me? Do you think, after all, she loves me?'
+
+'Venetia?' inquired the Doctor, in a low and doubtful voice, for he
+was greatly perplexed.
+
+'She has seen him; she loves him; she has forgotten her mother.'
+
+'My dear lady, you require rest,' said Doctor Masham. 'You are
+overcome with strange fancies. Whom has your daughter seen?'
+
+'Marmion.'
+
+'Impossible! you forget he is--'
+
+'Here also. He has spoken to her: she loves him: she will recover: she
+will fly to him; sooner let us both die!'
+
+'Dear lady!'
+
+'She knows everything. Fate has baffled me; we cannot struggle with
+fate. She is his child; she is like him; she is not like her mother.
+Oh! she hates me; I know she hates me.'
+
+'Hush! hush! hush!' said the Doctor, himself very agitated. 'Venetia
+loves you, only you. Why should she love any one else?'
+
+'Who can help it? I loved him. I saw him. I loved him. His voice was
+music. He has spoken to her, and she yielded: she yielded in a moment.
+I stood by her bedside. She would not speak to me; she would not know
+me; she shrank from me. Her heart is with her father: only with him.'
+
+'Where did she see him? How?'
+
+'His room: his picture. She knows all. I was away with you, and she
+entered his chamber.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'Oh! Doctor, you have influence with her. Speak to her. Make her love
+me! Tell her she has no father; tell her he is dead.'
+
+'We will do that which is well and wise,' replied Doctor Masham: 'at
+present let us be calm; if you give way, her life may be the forfeit.
+Now is the moment for a mother's love.'
+
+'You are right. I should not have left her for an instant. I would not
+have her wake and find her mother not watching over her. But I was
+tempted. She slept; I left her for a moment; I went to destroy the
+spell. She cannot see him again. No one shall see him again. It was my
+weakness, the weakness of long years; and now I am its victim.'
+
+'Nay, nay, my sweet lady, all will be quite well. Be but calm; Venetia
+will recover.'
+
+'But will she love me? Oh! no, no, no! She will think only of him. She
+will not love her mother. She will yearn for her father now. She has
+seen him, and she will not rest until she is in his arms. She will
+desert me, I know it.'
+
+'And I know the contrary,' said the Doctor, attempting to reassure
+her; 'I will answer for Venetia's devotion to you. Indeed she has no
+thought but your happiness, and can love only you. When there is
+a fitting time, I will speak to her; but now, now is the time for
+repose. And you must rest, you must indeed.'
+
+'Rest! I cannot. I slumbered in the chair last night by her bedside,
+and a voice roused me. It was her own. She was speaking to her father.
+She told him how she loved him; how long, how much she thought of him;
+that she would join him when she was well, for she knew he was not
+dead; and, if he were dead, she would die also. She never mentioned
+me.'
+
+'Nay! the light meaning of a delirious brain.' 'Truth, truth, bitter,
+inevitable truth. Oh! Doctor, I could bear all but this; but my child,
+my beautiful fond child, that made up for all my sorrows. My joy, my
+hope, my life! I knew it would be so; I knew he would have her heart.
+He said she never could be alienated from him; he said she never
+could be taught to hate him. I did not teach her to hate him. I said
+nothing. I deemed, fond, foolish mother, that the devotion of my life
+might bind her to me. But what is a mother's love? I cannot contend
+with him. He gained the mother; he will gain the daughter too.'
+
+'God will guard over you,' said Masham, with streaming eyes; 'God will
+not desert a pious and virtuous woman.'
+
+'I must go,' said Lady Annabel, attempting to rise, but the Doctor
+gently controlled her; 'perhaps she is awake, and I am not at her
+side. She will not ask for me, she will ask for him; but I will be
+there; she will desert me, but she shall not say I ever deserted her.'
+
+'She will never desert you,' said the Doctor; 'my life on her pure
+heart. She has been a child of unbroken love and duty; still she
+will remain so. Her mind is for a moment overpowered by a marvellous
+discovery. She will recover, and be to you as she was before.'
+
+'We'll tell her he is dead,' said Lady Annabel, eagerly. 'You must
+tell her. She will believe you. I cannot speak to her of him; no, not
+to secure her heart; never, never, never can I speak to Venetia of her
+father.'
+
+'I will speak,' replied the Doctor, 'at the just time. Now let us
+think of her recovery. She is no longer in danger. We should be
+grateful, we should be glad.'
+
+'Let us pray to God! Let us humble ourselves,' said Lady Annabel. 'Let
+us beseech him not to desert this house. We have been faithful to him,
+we have struggled to be faithful to him. Let us supplicate him to
+favour and support us!'
+
+'He will favour and support you,' said the Doctor, in a solemn tone.
+'He has upheld you in many trials; he will uphold you still.'
+
+'Ah! why did I love him! Why did I continue to love him! How weak, how
+foolish, how mad I have been! I have alone been the cause of all this
+misery. Yes, I have destroyed my child.'
+
+'She lives, she will live. Nay, nay! you must reassure yourself. Come,
+let me send for your servant, and for a moment repose. Nay! take my
+arm. All depends upon you. We have great cares now; let us not conjure
+up fantastic fears.'
+
+'I must go to my daughter's room. Perhaps by her side I might rest.
+Nowhere else. You will attend me to the door, my friend. Yes! it is
+something in this life to have a friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel took the arm of the good Masham. They stopped at her
+daughter's door.
+
+'Rest here a moment,' she said, as she entered the room without a
+sound. In a moment she returned. 'She still sleeps,' said the mother;
+'I shall remain with her, and you--?'
+
+'I will not leave you,' said the Doctor, 'but think not of me. Nay! I
+will not leave you. I will remain under this roof. I have shared its
+serenity and joy; let me not avoid it in this time of trouble and
+tribulation.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+Venetia still slept: her mother alone in the chamber watched by her
+side. Some hours had elapsed since her interview with Dr. Masham; the
+medical attendant had departed for a few hours.
+
+Suddenly Venetia moved, opened her eyes, and said in a faint voice,
+'Mamma!'
+
+The blood rushed to Lady Annabel's heart. That single word afforded
+her the most exquisite happiness.
+
+'I am here, dearest,' she replied.
+
+'Mamma, what is all this?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'You have not been well, my own, but now you are much better.'
+
+'I thought I had been dreaming,' replied Venetia, 'and that all was
+not right; somebody, I thought, struck me on my head. But all is right
+now, because you are here, my dear mamma.'
+
+But Lady Annabel could not speak for weeping.
+
+'Are you sure, mamma, that nothing has been done to my head?'
+continued Venetia. 'Why, what is this?' and she touched a light
+bandage on her brow.
+
+'My darling, you have been ill, and you have lost blood; but now you
+are getting quite well. I have been very unhappy about you; but now I
+am quite happy, my sweet, sweet child.'
+
+'How long have I been ill?'
+
+'You have been very ill indeed for four or five days; you have had a
+fever, Venetia; but now the fever is gone; and you are only a little
+weak, and you will soon be well.'
+
+'A fever! and how did I get the fever?'
+
+'Perhaps you caught cold, my child; but we must not talk too much.'
+
+'A fever! I never had a fever before. A fever is like a dream.'
+
+'Hush! sweet love. Indeed you must not speak.'
+
+'Give me your hand, mamma; I will not speak if you will let me hold
+your hand. I thought in the fever that we were parted.'
+
+'I have never left your side, my child, day or night,' said Lady
+Annabel, not without agitation.
+
+'All this time! all these days and nights! No one would do that but
+you, mamma. You think only of me.'
+
+'You repay me by your love, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, feeling that
+her daughter ought not to speak, yet irresistibly impelled to lead out
+her thoughts.
+
+'How can I help loving you, my dear mamma?'
+
+'You do love me, you do love me very much; do you not, sweet child?'
+
+'Better than all the world,' replied Venetia to her enraptured parent.
+'And yet, in the fever I seemed to love some one else: but fevers are
+like dreams; they are not true.'
+
+Lady Annabel pressed her lips gently to her daughter's, and whispered
+her that she must speak no more.
+
+When Mr. Hawkins returned, he gave a favourable report of Venetia. He
+said that all danger was now past, and that all that was required for
+her recovery were time, care, and repose. He repeated to Lady Annabel
+alone that the attack was solely to be ascribed to some great mental
+shock which her daughter had received, and which suddenly had affected
+her circulation; leaving it, after this formal intimation, entirely to
+the mother to take those steps in reference to the cause, whatever it
+might be, which she should deem expedient.
+
+In the evening, Lady Annabel stole down for a few moments to Dr.
+Masham, laden with joyful intelligence; assured of the safety of her
+child, and, what was still more precious, of her heart, and even
+voluntarily promising her friend that she should herself sleep
+this night in her daughter's chamber, on the sofa-bed. The Doctor,
+therefore, now bade her adieu, and said that he should ride over from
+Marringhurst every day, to hear how their patient was proceeding.
+
+From this time, the recovery of Venetia, though slow, was gradual. She
+experienced no relapse, and in a few weeks quitted her bed. She was
+rather surprised at her altered appearance when it first met her
+glance in the mirror, but scarcely made any observation on the loss of
+her locks. During this interval, the mind of Venetia had been quite
+dormant; the rage of the fever, and the violent remedies to which it
+had been necessary to have recourse, had so exhausted her, that she
+had not energy enough to think. All that she felt was a strange
+indefinite conviction that some occurrence had taken place with which
+her memory could not grapple. But as her strength returned, and as she
+gradually resumed her usual health, by proportionate though almost
+invisible degrees her memory returned to her, and her intelligence.
+She clearly recollected and comprehended what had taken place. She
+recalled the past, compared incidents, weighed circumstances, sifted
+and balanced the impressions that now crowded upon her consciousness.
+It is difficult to describe each link in the metaphysical chain which
+at length connected the mind of Venetia Herbert with her actual
+experience and precise situation. It was, however, at length perfect,
+and gradually formed as she sat in an invalid chair, apparently
+listless, not yet venturing on any occupation, or occasionally amused
+for a moment by her mother reading to her. But when her mind had thus
+resumed its natural tone, and in time its accustomed vigour, the past
+demanded all her solicitude. At length the mystery of her birth was
+revealed to her. She was the daughter of Marmion Herbert; and who was
+Marmion Herbert? The portrait rose before her. How distinct was the
+form, how definite the countenance! No common personage was Marmion
+Herbert, even had he not won his wife, and celebrated his daughter in
+such witching strains. Genius was stamped on his lofty brow, and spoke
+in his brilliant eye; nobility was in all his form. This chivalric
+poet was her father. She had read, she had dreamed of such beings, she
+had never seen them. If she quitted the solitude in which she lived,
+would she see men like her father? No other could ever satisfy her
+imagination; all beneath that standard would rank but as imperfect
+creations in her fancy. And this father, he was dead. No doubt.
+Ah! was there indeed no doubt? Eager as was her curiosity on this
+all-absorbing subject, Venetia could never summon courage to speak
+upon it to her mother. Her first disobedience, or rather her first
+deception of her mother, in reference to this very subject, had
+brought, and brought so swiftly on its retributive wings, such
+disastrous consequences, that any allusion to Lady Annabel was
+restrained by a species of superstitious fear, against which Venetia
+could not contend. Then her father was either dead or living. That was
+certain. If dead, it was clear that his memory, however cherished by
+his relict, was associated with feelings too keen to admit of any
+other but solitary indulgence. If living, there was a mystery
+connected with her parents, a mystery evidently of a painful
+character, and one which it was a prime object with her mother to
+conceal and to suppress. Could Venetia, then, in defiance of that
+mother, that fond devoted mother, that mother who had watched through
+long days and long nights over her sick bed, and who now, without a
+murmur, was a prisoner to this very room, only to comfort and console
+her child: could Venetia take any step which might occasion this
+matchless parent even a transient pang? No; it was impossible. To her
+mother she could never speak. And yet, to remain enveloped in the
+present mystery, she was sensible, was equally insufferable. All she
+asked, all she wanted to know, was he alive? If he were alive, then,
+although she could not see him, though she might never see him, she
+could exist upon his idea; she could conjure up romances of future
+existence with him; she could live upon the fond hope of some day
+calling him father, and receiving from his hands the fervid blessing
+he had already breathed to her in song.
+
+In the meantime her remaining parent commanded all her affections.
+Even if he were no more, blessed was her lot with such a mother! Lady
+Annabel seemed only to exist to attend upon her daughter. No lover
+ever watched with such devotion the wants or even the caprices of his
+mistress. A thousand times every day Venetia found herself expressing
+her fondness and her gratitude. It seemed that the late dreadful
+contingency of losing her daughter had developed in Lady Annabel's
+heart even additional powers of maternal devotion; and Venetia, the
+fond and grateful Venetia, ignorant of the strange past, which she
+believed she so perfectly comprehended, returned thanks to Heaven that
+her mother was at least spared the mortification of knowing that her
+daughter, in her absence, had surreptitiously invaded the sanctuary of
+her secret sorrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+When Venetia had so far recovered that, leaning on her mother's arm,
+she could resume her walks upon the terrace, Doctor Masham persuaded
+his friends, as a slight and not unpleasant change of scene, to pay
+him a visit at Marringhurst. Since the chamber scene, indeed, Lady
+Annabel's tie to Cherbury was much weakened. There were certain
+feelings of pain, and fear, and mortification, now associated with
+that place which she could not bear to dwell upon, and which greatly
+balanced those sentiments of refuge and repose, of peace and love,
+with which the old hall, in her mind, was heretofore connected.
+Venetia ever adopted the slightest intimations of a wish on the part
+of her mother, and so she readily agreed to fall into the arrangement.
+
+It was rather a long and rough journey to Marringhurst, for they were
+obliged to use the old chariot; but Venetia forgot her fatigues in
+the cordial welcome of their host, whose sparkling countenance well
+expressed the extreme gratification their arrival occasioned him.
+All that the tenderest solicitude could devise for the agreeable
+accommodation of the invalid had been zealously concerted; and the
+constant influence of Dr. Masham's cheerful mind was as beneficial to
+Lady Annabel as to her daughter. The season was gay, the place was
+pleasant; and although they were only a few miles from home, in a
+house with which they were familiar, and their companion one whom they
+had known intimately all their lives, and of late almost daily seen;
+yet such is the magic of a change in our habits, however slight, and
+of the usual theatre of their custom, that this visit to Marringhurst
+assumed quite the air of an adventure, and seemed at first almost
+invested with the charm and novelty of travel.
+
+The surrounding country, which, though verdant, was flat, was well
+adapted to the limited exertions and still feeble footsteps of an
+invalid, and Venetia began to study botany with the Doctor, who indeed
+was not very profound in his attainments in this respect, but knew
+quite enough to amuse his scholar. By degrees also, as her strength
+daily increased, they extended their walks; and at length she even
+mounted her pony, and was fast recovering her elasticity both of body
+and mind. There were also many pleasant books with which she was
+unacquainted; a cabinet of classic coins, prints, and pictures. She
+became, too, interested in the Doctor's rural pursuits; would watch
+him with his angle, and already meditated a revolution in his garden.
+So time, on the whole, flew cheerfully on, certainly without
+any weariness; and the day seldom passed that they did not all
+congratulate themselves on the pleasant and profitable change.
+
+In the meantime Venetia, when alone, still recurred to that idea that
+was now so firmly rooted in her mind, that it was quite out of the
+power of any social discipline to divert her attention from it. She
+was often the sole companion of the Doctor, and she had long resolved
+to seize a favourable opportunity to appeal to him on the subject of
+her father. It so happened that she was walking alone with him one
+morning in the neighbourhood of Marringhurst, having gone to visit the
+remains of a Roman encampment in the immediate vicinity. When they had
+arrived at the spot, and the Doctor had delivered his usual lecture on
+the locality, they sat down together on a mound, that Venetia might
+rest herself.
+
+'Were you ever in Italy, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'I never was out of my native country,' said the Doctor. 'I once,
+indeed, was about making the grand tour with a pupil of mine at
+Oxford, but circumstances interfered which changed his plans, and so I
+remain a regular John Bull.'
+
+'Was my father at Oxford?' said Venetia, quietly.
+
+'He was,' replied the Doctor, looking confused.
+
+'I should like to see Oxford much,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is a most interesting seat of learning,' said the Doctor, quite
+delighted to change the subject. 'Whether we consider its antiquity,
+its learning, the influence it has exercised upon the history of the
+country, its magnificent endowments, its splendid buildings, its great
+colleges, libraries, and museums, or that it is one of the principal
+head-quarters of all the hope of England, our youth, it is not too
+much to affirm that there is scarcely a spot on the face of the globe
+of equal interest and importance.'
+
+'It is not for its colleges, or libraries, or museums, or all its
+splendid buildings,' observed Venetia, 'that I should wish to see it.
+I wish to see it because my father was once there. I should like to
+see a place where I was quite certain my father had been.'
+
+'Still harping of her father,' thought the Doctor to himself, and
+growing uneasy; yet, from his very anxiety to turn the subject, quite
+incapable of saying an appropriate word.
+
+'Do you remember my father at Oxford, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes! no, yes!' said the Doctor, rather colouring; 'that he must have
+been there in my time, I rather think.'
+
+'But you do not recollect him?' said Venetia, pressing question.
+
+'Why,' rejoined the Doctor, a little more collected, 'when you
+remember that there are between two and three thousand young men at
+the university, you must not consider it very surprising that I might
+not recollect your father.'
+
+'No,' said Venetia, 'perhaps not: and yet I cannot help thinking that
+he must always have been a person who, if once seen, would not easily
+have been forgotten.'
+
+'Here is an Erica vagans,' said the Doctor, picking a flower; 'it
+is rather uncommon about here;' and handing it at the same time to
+Venetia.
+
+'My father must have been very young when he died?' said Venetia,
+scarcely looking at the flower.
+
+'Yes, your father was very young,' he replied.
+
+'Where did he die?'
+
+'I cannot answer that question.'
+
+'Where was he buried?'
+
+'You know, my dear young lady, that the subject is too tender for any
+one to converse with your poor mother upon it. It is not in my power
+to give you the information you desire. Be satisfied, my dear Miss
+Herbert, that a gracious Providence has spared to you one parent, and
+one so inestimable.'
+
+'I trust I know how to appreciate so great a blessing,' replied
+Venetia; 'but I should be sorry if the natural interest which all
+children must take in those who have given them birth, should be
+looked upon as idle and unjustifiable curiosity.'
+
+'My dear young lady, you misapprehend me.'
+
+'No, Doctor Masham, indeed I do not,' replied Venetia, with firmness.
+'I can easily conceive that the mention of my father may for various
+reasons be insupportable to my mother; it is enough for me that I am
+convinced such is the case: my lips are sealed to her for ever upon
+the subject; but I cannot recognise the necessity of this constraint
+to others. For a long time I was kept in ignorance whether I had
+a father or not. I have discovered, no matter how, who he was. I
+believe, pardon me, my dearest friend, I cannot help believing, that
+you were acquainted, or, at least, that you know something of him; and
+I entreat you! yes,' repeated Venetia with great emphasis, laying
+her hand upon his arm, and looking with earnestness in his face, 'I
+entreat you, by all your kind feelings to my mother and myself, by all
+that friendship we so prize, by the urgent solicitation of a daughter
+who is influenced in her curiosity by no light or unworthy feeling;
+yes! by all the claims of a child to information which ought not to be
+withheld from her, tell me, tell me all, tell me something! Speak, Dr.
+Masham, do speak!'
+
+'My dear young lady,' said the Doctor, with a glistening eye, 'it is
+better that we should both be silent.'
+
+'No, indeed,' replied Venetia, 'it is not better; it is not well that
+we should be silent. Candour is a great virtue. There is a charm, a
+healthy charm, in frankness. Why this mystery? Why these secrets? Have
+they worked good? Have they benefited us? O! my friend, I would not
+say so to my mother, I would not be tempted by any sufferings to pain
+for an instant her pure and affectionate heart; but indeed, Doctor
+Masham, indeed, indeed, what I tell you is true, all my late illness,
+my present state, all, all are attributable but to one cause, this
+mystery about my father!'
+
+'What can I tell you?' said the unhappy Masham.
+
+'Tell me only one fact. I ask no more. Yes! I promise you, solemnly I
+promise you, I will ask no more. Tell me, does he live?'
+
+'He does!' said the Doctor. Venetia sank upon his shoulder.
+
+'My dear young lady, my darling young lady!' said the Doctor; 'she has
+fainted. What can I do?' The unfortunate Doctor placed Venetia in a
+reclining posture, and hurried to a brook that was nigh, and brought
+water in his hand to sprinkle on her. She revived; she made a struggle
+to restore herself.
+
+'It is nothing,' she said, 'I am resolved to be well. I am well. I am
+myself again. He lives; my father lives! I was confident of it! I will
+ask no more. I am true to my word. O! Doctor Masham, you have always
+been my kind friend, but you have never yet conferred on me a favour
+like the one you have just bestowed.'
+
+'But it is well,' said the Doctor, 'as you know so much, that you
+should know more.'
+
+'Yes! yes!'
+
+'As we walk along,' he continued, 'we will converse, or at another
+time; there is no lack of opportunity.'
+
+'No, now, now!' eagerly exclaimed Venetia, 'I am quite well. It was
+not pain or illness that overcame me. Now let us walk, now let us talk
+of these things. He lives?'
+
+'I have little to add,' said Dr. Masham, after a moment's thought;
+'but this, however painful, it is necessary for you to know, that your
+father is unworthy of your mother, utterly; they are separated; they
+never can be reunited.'
+
+'Never?' said Venetia.
+
+'Never,' replied Dr. Masham; 'and I now warn you; if, indeed, as I
+cannot doubt, you love your mother; if her peace of mind and happiness
+are, as I hesitate not to believe, the principal objects of your life,
+upon this subject with her be for ever silent. Seek to penetrate no
+mysteries, spare all allusions, banish, if possible, the idea of your
+father from your memory. Enough, you know he lives. We know no more.
+Your mother labours to forget him; her only consolation for sorrows
+such as few women ever experienced, is her child, yourself, your love.
+Now be no niggard with it. Cling to this unrivalled parent, who has
+dedicated her life to you. Soothe her sufferings, endeavour to make
+her share your happiness; but, of this be certain, that if you
+raise up the name and memory of your father between your mother and
+yourself, her life will be the forfeit!'
+
+'His name shall never pass my lips,' said Venetia; 'solemnly I vow it.
+That his image shall be banished from my heart is too much to ask, and
+more than it is in my power to grant. But I am my mother's child. I
+will exist only for her; and if my love can console her, she shall
+never be without solace. I thank you, Doctor, for all your kindness.
+We will never talk again upon the subject; yet, believe me, you have
+acted wisely, you have done good.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia observed her promise to Doctor Masham with strictness. She
+never alluded to her father, and his name never escaped her mother's
+lips. Whether Doctor Masham apprised Lady Annabel of the conversation
+that had taken place between himself and her daughter, it is not in
+our power to mention. The visit to Marringhurst was not a short one.
+It was a relief both to Lady Annabel and Venetia, after all that had
+occurred, to enjoy the constant society of their friend; and this
+change of life, though apparently so slight, proved highly beneficial
+to Venetia. She daily recovered her health, and a degree of mental
+composure which she had not for some time enjoyed. On the whole she
+was greatly satisfied with the discoveries which she had made. She had
+ascertained the name and the existence of her father: his very form
+and appearance were now no longer matter for conjecture; and in a
+degree she had even communicated with him. Time, she still believed,
+would develope even further wonders. She clung to an irresistible
+conviction that she should yet see him; that he might even again
+be united to her mother. She indulged in dreams as to his present
+pursuits and position; she repeated to herself his verses, and
+remembered his genius with pride and consolation.
+
+They returned to Cherbury, they resumed the accustomed tenour of their
+lives, as if nothing had occurred to disturb it. The fondness between
+the mother and her daughter was unbroken and undiminished. They shared
+again the same studies and the same amusements. Lady Annabel perhaps
+indulged the conviction that Venetia had imbibed the belief that her
+father was no more, and yet in truth that father was the sole idea on
+which her child ever brooded. Venetia had her secret now; and often
+as she looked up at the windows of the uninhabited portion of the
+building, she remembered with concealed, but not less keen exultation,
+that she had penetrated their mystery. She could muse for hours over
+all that chamber had revealed to her, and indulge in a thousand
+visions, of which her father was the centre. She was his 'own
+Venetia.' Thus he had hailed her at her birth, and thus he might yet
+again acknowledge her. If she could only ascertain where he existed!
+What if she could, and she were to communicate with him? He must love
+her. Her heart assured her he must love her. She could not believe,
+if they were to meet, that his breast could resist the silent appeal
+which the sight merely of his only child would suffice to make. Oh!
+why had her parents parted? What could have been his fault? He was so
+young! But a few, few years older than herself, when her mother must
+have seen him for the last time. Yes! for the last time beheld that
+beautiful form, and that countenance that seemed breathing only with
+genius and love. He might have been imprudent, rash, violent; but
+she would not credit for an instant that a stain could attach to the
+honour or the spirit of Marmion Herbert.
+
+The summer wore away. One morning, as Lady Annabel and Venetia were
+sitting together, Mistress Pauncefort bustled into the room with
+a countenance radiant with smiles and wonderment. Her ostensible
+business was to place upon the table a vase of flowers, but it was
+evident that her presence was occasioned by affairs of far greater
+urgency. The vase was safely deposited; Mistress Pauncefort gave the
+last touch to the arrangement of the flowers; she lingered about Lady
+Annabel. At length she said, 'I suppose you have heard the news, my
+lady?'
+
+'Indeed, Pauncefort, I have not,' replied Lady Annabel. 'What news?'
+
+'My lord is coming to the abbey.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'Oh! yes, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'I am not at all
+surprised your ladyship should be so astonished. Never to write, too!
+Well, I must say he might have given us a line. But he is coming, I am
+certain sure of that, my lady. My lord's gentleman has been down these
+two days; and all his dogs and guns too, my lady. And the keeper is
+ordered to be quite ready, my lady, for the first. I wonder if there
+is going to be a party. I should not be at all surprised.'
+
+'Plantagenet returned!' said Lady Annabel. 'Well, I shall be very glad
+to see him again.'
+
+'So shall I, my lady,' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'but I dare say we
+shall hardly know him again, he must be so grown. Trimmer has been
+over to the abbey, my lady, and saw my lord's valet. Quite the fine
+gentleman, Trimmer says. I was thinking of walking over myself this
+afternoon, to see poor Mrs. Quin, my lady; I dare say we might be
+of use, and neighbours should be handy, as they say. She is a very
+respectable woman, poor Mrs. Quin, and I am sure for my part, if your
+ladyship has no objection, I should be very glad to be of service to
+her.'
+
+'I have of course no objection, Pauncefort, to your being of service
+to the housekeeper, but has she required your assistance?'
+
+'Why no, my lady, but poor Mrs. Quin would hardly like to ask for
+anything, my lady; but I am sure we might be of very great use, for
+my lord's gentleman seems very dissatisfied at his reception, Trimmer
+says. He has his hot breakfast every morning, my lady, and poor Mrs.
+Quin says--'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, that will do,' said Lady Annabel, and the
+functionary disappeared.
+
+'We have almost forgotten Plantagenet, Venetia,' added Lady Annabel,
+addressing herself to her daughter.
+
+'He has forgotten us, I think, mamma,' said Venetia.
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Five years had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis had quitted the seat of his
+fathers, nor did the fair inhabitants of Cherbury hear of his return
+without emotion. Although the intercourse between them during this
+interval had from the first been too slightly maintained, and of late
+years had entirely died off, his return was, nevertheless, an event
+which recalled old times and revived old associations. His visit to
+the hall was looked forward to with interest. He did not long keep his
+former friends in suspense; for although he was not uninfluenced by
+some degree of embarrassment from the consciousness of neglect on his
+side, rendered more keen now that he again found himself in the scene
+endeared by the remembrance of their kindness, he was, nevertheless,
+both too well bred and too warm-hearted to procrastinate the
+performance of a duty which the regulations of society and natural
+impulse alike assured him was indispensable. On the very morning,
+therefore, after his arrival, having sauntered awhile over the old
+abbey and strolled over the park, mused over his mother's tomb with
+emotion, not the less deep because there was no outward and visible
+sign of its influence, he ordered his horses, and directed his way
+through the accustomed woods to Cherbury.
+
+Five years had not passed away without their effects at least upon the
+exterior being of Cadurcis. Although still a youth, his appearance
+was manly. A thoughtful air had become habitual to a countenance
+melancholy even in his childhood. Nor was its early promise of beauty
+unfulfilled; although its expression was peculiar, and less pleasing
+than impressive. His long dark locks shaded a pale and lofty brow that
+well became a cast of features delicately moulded, yet reserved and
+haughty, and perhaps even somewhat scornful. His figure had set into a
+form of remarkable slightness and elegance, and distinguished for
+its symmetry. Altogether his general mien was calculated to attract
+attention and to excite interest.
+
+His vacations while at Eton had been spent by Lord Cadurcis in the
+family of his noble guardian, one of the king's ministers. Here he had
+been gradually initiated in the habits and manners of luxurious and
+refined society. Since he had quitted Eton he had passed a season,
+previous to his impending residence at Cambridge, in the same sphere.
+The opportunities thus offered had not been lost upon a disposition
+which, with all its native reserve, was singularly susceptible.
+Cadurcis had quickly imbibed the tone and adopted the usages of
+the circle in which he moved. Naturally impatient of control, he
+endeavoured by his precocious manhood to secure the respect and
+independence which would scarcely have been paid or permitted to his
+years. From an early period he never permitted himself to be treated
+as a boy; and his guardian, a man whose whole soul was concentred in
+the world, humoured a bent which he approved and from which he augured
+the most complete success. Attracted by the promising talents and the
+premature character of his ward, he had spared more time to assist the
+development of his mind and the formation of his manners than might
+have been expected from a minister of state. His hopes, indeed, rested
+with confidence on his youthful relative, and he looked forward with
+no common emotion to the moment when he should have the honour of
+introducing to public life one calculated to confer so much credit
+on his tutor, and shed so much lustre on his party. The reader will,
+therefore, not be surprised if at this then unrivalled period of
+political excitement, when the existence of our colonial empire was
+at stake, Cadurcis, with his impetuous feelings, had imbibed to
+their fullest extent all the plans, prejudices, and passions of his
+political connections. He was, indeed, what the circumstances of the
+times and his extreme youth might well excuse, if not justify, a most
+violent partisan. Bold, sanguine, resolute, and intolerant, it was
+difficult to persuade him that any opinions could be just which were
+opposed to those of the circle in which he lived; and out of that
+pale, it must be owned, he was as little inclined to recognise the
+existence of ability as of truth.
+
+As Lord Cadurcis slowly directed his way through the woods and park of
+Cherbury, past years recurred to him like a faint yet pleasing dream.
+Among these meads and bowers had glided away the only happy years of
+his boyhood, the only period of his early life to which he could look
+back without disgust. He recalled the secret exultation with which, in
+company with his poor mother, he had first repaired to Cadurcis, about
+to take possession of what, to his inexperienced imagination, then
+appeared a vast and noble inheritance, and for the first time in his
+life to occupy a position not unworthy of his rank. For how many
+domestic mortifications did the first sight of that old abbey
+compensate! How often, in pacing its venerable galleries and solemn
+cloisters, and musing over the memory of an ancient and illustrious
+ancestry, had he forgotten those bitter passages of daily existence,
+so humbling to his vanity and so harassing to his heart! Ho had beheld
+that morn, after an integral of many years, the tomb of his mother.
+That simple and solitary monument had revived and impressed upon him a
+conviction that too easily escaped in the various life and busy scenes
+in which he had since moved, the conviction of his worldly desolation
+and utter loneliness. He had no parents, no relations; now that he was
+for a moment free from the artificial life in which he had of late
+mingled, he felt that he had no friends. The image of his mother came
+back to him, softened by the magical tint of years; after all she was
+his mother, and a deep sharer in all his joys and woes. Transported to
+the old haunts of his innocent and warm-hearted childhood. He sighed
+for a finer and a sweeter sympathy than was ever yielded by the roof
+which he had lately quitted; a habitation, but not a home. He conjured
+up the picture of his guardian, existing in a whirl of official bustle
+and social excitement. A dreamy reminiscence of finer impulses stole
+over the heart of Cadurcis. The dazzling pageant of metropolitan
+splendour faded away before the bright scene of nature that surrounded
+him. He felt the freshness of the fragrant breeze; he gazed with
+admiration on the still and ancient woods, and his pure and lively
+blood bubbled beneath the influence of the golden sunbeams. Before him
+rose the halls of Cherbury, that roof where he had been so happy, that
+roof to which he had appeared so ungrateful. The memory of a thousand
+acts of kindness, of a thousand soft and soothing traits of affection,
+recurred to him with a freshness which startled as much as it pleased
+him. Not to him only, but to his mother, that mother whose loss he had
+lived to deplore, had the inmates of Cherbury been ministering angels
+of peace and joy. Oh! that indeed had been a home; there indeed had
+been days of happiness; there indeed he had found sympathy, and
+solace, and succour! And now he was returning to them a stranger, to
+fulfil one of the formal duties of society in paying them his cold
+respects; an attention which he could scarcely have avoided offering
+had he been to them the merest acquaintance, instead of having found
+within those walls a home not merely in words, but friendship the most
+delicate and love the most pure, a second parent, and the only being
+whom he had ever styled sister!
+
+The sight of Cadurcis became dim with emotion as the associations of
+old scenes and his impending interview with Venetia brought back
+the past with a power which he had rarely experienced in the
+playing-fields of Eton, or the saloons of London. Five years! It was
+an awful chasm in their acquaintance.
+
+He despaired of reviving the kindness which had been broken by such a
+dreary interval, and broken on his side so wilfully; and yet he
+began to feel that unless met with that kindness he should be very
+miserable. Sooth to say, he was not a little embarrassed, and scarcely
+knew which contingency he most desired, to meet, or to escape from
+her. He almost repented his return to Cadurcis, and yet to see Venetia
+again he felt must be exquisite pleasure. Influenced by these feelings
+he arrived at the hall steps, and so, dismounting and giving his horse
+to his groom, Cadurcis, with a palpitating heart and faltering hand,
+formally rang the bell of that hall which in old days he entered at
+all seasons without ceremony.
+
+Never perhaps did a man feel more nervous; he grew pale, paler even
+than usual, and his whole frame trembled as the approaching footstep
+of the servant assured him the door was about to open. He longed now
+that the family might not be at home, that he might at least gain
+four-and-twenty hours to prepare himself. But the family were at home
+and he was obliged to enter. He stopped for a moment in the hall under
+the pretence of examining the old familiar scene, but it was merely to
+collect himself, for his sight was clouded; spoke to the old servant,
+to reassure himself by the sound of his own voice, but the husky words
+seemed to stick in his throat; ascended the staircase with tottering
+steps, and leant against the banister as he heard his name announced.
+The effort, however, must be made; it was too late to recede; and Lord
+Cadurcis, entering the terrace-room, extended his hand to Lady Annabel
+Herbert. She was not in the least changed, but looked as beautiful and
+serene as usual. Her salutation, though far from deficient in warmth,
+was a little more dignified than that which Plantagenet remembered;
+but still her presence reassured him, and while he pressed her hand
+with earnestness he contrived to murmur forth with pleasing emotion,
+his delight at again meeting her. Strange to say, in the absorbing
+agitation of the moment, all thought of Venetia had vanished; and
+it was when he had turned and beheld a maiden of the most exquisite
+beauty that his vision had ever lighted on, who had just risen from
+her seat and was at the moment saluting him, that he entirely lost his
+presence of mind; he turned scarlet, was quite silent, made an awkward
+bow, and then stood perfectly fixed.
+
+'My daughter,' said Lady Annabel, slightly pointing to Venetia; 'will
+not you be seated?'
+
+Cadurcis fell into a chair in absolute confusion. The rare and
+surpassing beauty of Venetia, his own stupidity, his admiration of
+her, his contempt for himself, the sight of the old chamber, the
+recollection of the past, the minutest incidents of which seemed all
+suddenly to crowd upon his memory, the painful consciousness of the
+revolution which had occurred in his position in the family, proved by
+his first being obliged to be introduced to Venetia, and then
+being addressed so formally by his title by her mother; all these
+impressions united overcame him; he could not speak, he sat silent and
+confounded; and had it not been for the imperturbable self-composure
+and delicate and amiable consideration of Lady Annabel, it would
+have been impossible for him to have remained in a room where he
+experienced agonising embarrassment.
+
+Under cover, however, of a discharge of discreet inquiries as to when
+he arrived, how long he meant to stay, whether he found Cadurcis
+altered, and similar interrogations which required no extraordinary
+exertion of his lordship's intellect to answer, but to which he
+nevertheless contrived to give inconsistent and contradictory
+responses, Cadurcis in time recovered himself sufficiently to maintain
+a fair though not very brilliant conversation, and even ventured
+occasionally to address an observation to Venetia, who was seated at
+her work perfectly composed, but who replied to all his remarks with
+the same sweet voice and artless simplicity which had characterised
+her childhood, though time and thought had, by their blended
+influence, perhaps somewhat deprived her of that wild grace and
+sparkling gaiety for which she was once so eminent.
+
+These great disenchanters of humanity, if indeed they had stolen away
+some of the fascinating qualities of infancy, had amply recompensed
+Venetia Herbert for the loss by the additional and commanding charms
+which they had conferred on her. From a beautiful child she had
+expanded into a most beautiful woman. She had now entirely recovered
+from her illness, of which the only visible effect was the addition
+that it had made to her stature, already slightly above the middle
+height, but of exquisite symmetry. Like her mother, she did not wear
+powder, then usual in society; but her auburn hair, of the finest
+texture, descended in long and luxuriant tresses far over her
+shoulders, braided with ribands, perfectly exposing her pellucid brow,
+here and there tinted with an undulating vein, for she had retained,
+if possible with increased lustre, the dazzling complexion of her
+infancy. If the rose upon the cheek were less vivid than of yore, the
+dimples were certainly more developed; the clear grey eye was shadowed
+by long dark lashes, and every smile and movement of those ruby lips
+revealed teeth exquisitely small and regular, and fresh and brilliant
+as pearls just plucked by a diver.
+
+Conversation proceeded and improved. Cadurcis became more easy and
+more fluent. His memory, which seemed suddenly to have returned to him
+with unusual vigour, wonderfully served him. There was scarcely an
+individual of whom he did not contrive to inquire, from Dr. Masham to
+Mistress Pauncefort; he was resolved to show that if he had neglected,
+he had at least not forgotten them. Nor did he exhibit the slightest
+indication of terminating his visit; so that Lady Annabel, aware that
+he was alone at the abbey and that he could have no engagement in the
+neighbourhood, could not refrain from inviting him to remain and dine
+with them. The invitation was accepted without hesitation. In due
+course of time Cadurcis attended the ladies in their walk; it was a
+delightful stroll in the park, though he felt some slight emotion when
+he found himself addressing Venetia by the title of 'Miss Herbert.'
+When he had exhausted all the topics of local interest, he had a great
+deal to say about himself in answer to the inquiries of Lady Annabel.
+He spoke with so much feeling and simplicity of his first days at
+Eton, and the misery he experienced on first quitting Cherbury, that
+his details could not fail of being agreeable to those whose natural
+self-esteem they so agreeably mattered. Then he dwelt upon his casual
+acquaintance with London society, and Lady Annabel was gratified to
+observe, from many incidental observations, that his principles were
+in every respect of the right tone; and that he had zealously enlisted
+himself in the ranks of that national party who opposed themselves
+to the disorganising opinions then afloat. He spoke of his impending
+residence at the university with the affectionate anticipations which
+might have been expected from a devoted child of the ancient and
+orthodox institutions of his country, and seemed perfectly impressed
+with the responsible duties for which he was destined, as an
+hereditary legislator of England. On the whole, his carriage and
+conversation afforded a delightful evidence of a pure, and earnest,
+and frank, and gifted mind, that had acquired at an early age much of
+the mature and fixed character of manhood, without losing anything
+of that boyish sincerity and simplicity too often the penalty of
+experience.
+
+The dinner passed in pleasant conversation, and if they were no longer
+familiar, they were at least cordial. Cadurcis spoke of Dr. Masham
+with affectionate respect, and mentioned his intention of visiting
+Marringhurst on the following day. He ventured to hope that Lady
+Annabel and Miss Herbert might accompany him, and it was arranged that
+his wish should be gratified. The evening drew on apace, and Lady
+Annabel was greatly pleased when Lord Cadurcis expressed his wish to
+remain for their evening prayers. He was indeed sincerely religious;
+and as he knelt in the old chapel that had been the hallowed scene
+of his boyish devotions, he offered his ardent thanksgivings to his
+Creator who had mercifully kept his soul pure and true, and allowed
+him, after so long an estrangement from the sweet spot of his
+childhood, once more to mingle his supplications with his kind and
+virtuous friends.
+
+Influenced by the solemn sounds still lingering in his ear, Cadurcis
+bade them farewell for the night, with an earnestness of manner and
+depth of feeling which he would scarcely have ventured to exhibit at
+their first meeting. 'Good night, dear Lady Annabel,' he said, as he
+pressed her hand; 'you know not how happy, how grateful I feel, to be
+once more at Cherbury. Good night, Venetia!'
+
+That last word lingered on his lips; it was uttered in a tone at once
+mournful and sweet, and her hand was unconsciously retained for a
+moment in his; but for a moment; and yet in that brief instant a
+thousand thoughts seemed to course through his brain.
+
+Before Venetia retired to rest she remained for a few minutes in her
+mother's room. 'What do you think of him, mamma?' she said; 'is he not
+very changed?'
+
+'He is, my love,' replied Lady Annabel; 'what I sometimes thought he
+might, what I always hoped he would, be.'
+
+'He really seemed happy to meet us again, and yet how strange that for
+years he should never have communicated with us.'
+
+'Not so very strange, my love! He was but a child when we parted, and
+he has felt embarrassment in resuming connections which for a long
+interval had been inevitably severed. Remember what a change his life
+had to endure; few, after such an interval, would have returned with
+feelings so kind and so pure!'
+
+'He was always a favourite of yours, mamma!'
+
+'I always fancied that I observed in him the seeds of great virtues
+and great talents; but I was not so sanguine that they would have
+flourished as they appear to have done.'
+
+In the meantime the subject of their observations strolled home
+on foot, for he had dismissed his horses, to the abbey. It was a
+brilliant night, and the white beams of the moon fell full upon the
+old monastic pile, of which massy portions were in dark shade while
+the light gracefully rested on the projecting ornaments of the
+building, and played, as it were, with the fretted and fantastic
+pinnacles. Behind were the savage hills, softened by the hour; and on
+the right extended the still and luminous lake. Cadurcis rested for
+a moment and gazed upon the fair, yet solemn scene. The dreams of
+ambition that occasionally distracted him were dead. The surrounding
+scene harmonised with the thoughts of purity, repose, and beauty that
+filled his soul. Why should he ever leave this spot, sacred to him by
+the finest emotions of his nature? Why should he not at once quit
+that world which he had just entered, while he could quit it without
+remorse? If ever there existed a being who was his own master, who
+might mould his destiny at his will, it seemed to be Cadurcis. His
+lone yet independent situation, his impetuous yet firm volition, alike
+qualified him to achieve the career most grateful to his disposition.
+Let him, then, achieve it here; here let him find that solitude he had
+ever loved, softened by that affection for which he had ever sighed,
+and which here only he had ever found. It seemed to him that there
+was only one being in the world whom he had ever loved, and that was
+Venetia Herbert: it seemed to him that there was only one thing in
+this world worth living for, and that was the enjoyment of her sweet
+heart. The pure-minded, the rare, the gracious creature! Why should
+she ever quit these immaculate bowers wherein she had been so
+mystically and delicately bred? Why should she ever quit the fond
+roof of Cherbury, but to shed grace and love amid the cloisters of
+Cadurcis? Her life hitherto had been an enchanted tale; why should
+the spell ever break? Why should she enter that world where care,
+disappointment, mortification, misery, must await her? He for a season
+had left the magic circle of her life, and perhaps it was well. He was
+a man, and so he should know all. But he had returned, thank Heaven!
+he had returned, and never again would he quit her. Fool that he had
+been ever to have neglected her! And for a reason that ought to have
+made him doubly her friend, her solace, her protector. Oh! to think of
+the sneers or the taunts of the world calling for a moment the colour
+from that bright cheek, or dusking for an instant the radiance of that
+brilliant eye! His heart ached at the thought of her unhappiness, and
+he longed to press her to it, and cherish her like some innocent dove
+that had flown from the terrors of a pursuing hawk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+'Well, Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, smiling, as he renewed his
+acquaintance with his old friend, 'I hope you have not forgotten my
+last words, and have taken care of your young lady.'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, blushing and simpering.
+'Well to be sure, how your lordship has surprised us all! I thought we
+were never going to see you again!'
+
+'You know I told you I should return; and now I mean never to leave
+you again.'
+
+'Never is a long word, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, looking
+very archly.
+
+'Ah! but I mean to settle, regularly to settle here,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry and settle, my lord,' said Mistress Pauncefort, still more
+arch.
+
+'And why not?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, laughing.
+
+'That is just what I said last night,' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort,
+eagerly. 'And why not? for I said, says I, his lordship must marry
+sooner or later, and the sooner the better, say I: and to be sure he
+is very young, but what of that? for, says I, no one can say he does
+not look quite a man. And really, my lord, saving your presence, you
+are grown indeed.'
+
+'Pish!' said Lord Cadurcis, turning away and laughing, 'I have left
+off growing, Pauncefort, and all those sort of things.'
+
+'You have not forgotten our last visit to Marringhurst?' said Lord
+Cadurcis to Venetia, as the comfortable mansion of the worthy Doctor
+appeared in sight.
+
+'I have forgotten nothing,' replied Venetia with a faint smile; 'I do
+not know what it is to forget. My life has been so uneventful that
+every past incident, however slight, is as fresh in my memory as if it
+occurred yesterday.'
+
+'Then you remember the strawberries and cream?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And other circumstances less agreeable,' he fancied Venetia observed,
+but her voice was low.
+
+'Do you know, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I was very
+nearly riding my pony to-day? I wish to bring back old times with the
+utmost possible completeness; I wish for a moment to believe that I
+have never quitted Cherbury.'
+
+'Let us think only of the present now,' said Lady Annabel in a
+cheerful voice, 'for it is very agreeable. I see the good Doctor; he
+has discovered us.'
+
+'I wonder whom he fancies Lord Cadurcis to be?' said Venetia.
+
+'Have you no occasional cavalier for whom at a distance I may be
+mistaken?' inquired his lordship in a tone of affected carelessness,
+though in truth it was an inquiry that he made not without anxiety.
+
+'Everything remains here exactly as you left it,' replied Lady
+Annabel, with some quickness, yet in a lively tone.
+
+'Happy Cherbury!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis. 'May it indeed never
+change!'
+
+They rode briskly on; the Doctor was standing at his gate. He saluted
+Lady Annabel and Venetia with his accustomed cordiality, and then
+stared at their companion as if waiting for an introduction.
+
+'You forget an old friend, my dear Doctor,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Dr. Masham. His lordship had by this time
+dismounted and eagerly extended his hand to his old tutor.
+
+Having quitted their horses they all entered the house, nor was there
+naturally any want of conversation. Cadurcis had much information to
+give and many questions to answer. He was in the highest spirits
+and the most amiable mood; gay, amusing, and overflowing with
+kind-heartedness. The Doctor seldom required any inspiration, to be
+joyous, and Lady Annabel was unusually animated. Venetia alone, though
+cheerful, was calmer than pleased Cadurcis. Time, he sorrowfully
+observed, had occasioned a greater change in her manner than he could
+have expected. Youthful as she still was, indeed but on the threshold
+of womanhood, and exempted, as it seemed she had been, from anything
+to disturb the clearness of her mind, that enchanting play of fancy
+which had once characterised her, and which he recalled with a sigh,
+appeared in a great degree to have deserted her. He watched her
+countenance with emotion, and, supremely beautiful as it undeniably
+was, there was a cast of thoughtfulness or suffering impressed upon
+the features which rendered him mournful he knew not why, and caused
+him to feel as if a cloud had stolen unexpectedly over the sun and
+made him shiver.
+
+But there was no time or opportunity for sad reflections; he had to
+renew his acquaintance with all the sights and curiosities of the
+rectory, to sing to the canaries, and visit the gold fish, admire the
+stuffed fox, and wonder that in the space of five years the voracious
+otter had not yet contrived to devour its prey. Then they refreshed
+themselves after their ride with a stroll in the Doctor's garden;
+Cadurcis persisted in attaching himself to Venetia, as in old days,
+and nothing would prevent him from leading her to the grotto. Lady
+Annabel walked behind, leaning on the Doctor's arm, narrating, with no
+fear of being heard, all the history of their friend's return.
+
+'I never was so surprised in my life,' said the Doctor; 'he is vastly
+improved; he is quite a man; his carriage is very finished.'
+
+'And his principles,' said Lady Annabel. 'You have no idea, my dear
+Doctor, how right his opinions seem to be on every subject. He has
+been brought up in a good school; he does his guardian great credit.
+He is quite loyal and orthodox in all his opinions; ready to risk his
+life for our blessed constitution in Church and State. He requested,
+as a favour, that he might remain at our prayers last night. It is
+delightful for me to see him turn out so well!'
+
+In the meantime Cadurcis and Venetia entered the grotto.
+
+'The dear Doctor!' said Cadurcis: 'five years have brought no visible
+change even to him; perhaps he may be a degree less agile, but I will
+not believe it. And Lady Annabel; it seems to me your mother is more
+youthful and beautiful than ever. There is a spell in our air,'
+continued his lordship, with a laughing eye; 'for if we have changed,
+Venetia, ours is, at least, an alteration that bears no sign of decay.
+We are advancing, but they have not declined; we are all enchanted.'
+
+'I feel changed,' said Venetia gravely.
+
+'I left you a child and I find you a woman,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'a
+change which who can regret?'
+
+'I would I were a child again,' said Venetia.
+
+'We were happy,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a thoughtful tone; and then in
+an inquiring voice he added, 'and so we are now?'
+
+Venetia shook her head.
+
+'Can you be unhappy?'
+
+'To be unhappy would be wicked,' said Venetia; 'but my mind has lost
+its spring.'
+
+'Ah! say not so, Venetia, or you will make even me gloomy. I am happy,
+positively happy. There must not be a cloud upon your brow.'
+
+'You are joyous,' said Venetia, 'because you are excited. It is the
+novelty of return that animates you. It will wear off; you will grow
+weary, and when you go to the university you will think yourself happy
+again.'
+
+'I do not intend to go to the university,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I understood from you that you were going there immediately.'
+
+'My plans are changed,' said Cadurcis; 'I do not intend ever to leave
+home again.'
+
+'When you go to Cambridge,' said Dr. Masham, who just then reached
+them, 'I shall trouble you with a letter to an old friend of mine
+whose acquaintance you may find valuable.'
+
+Venetia smiled; Cadurcis bowed, expressed his thanks, and muttered
+something about talking over the subject with the Doctor.
+
+After this the conversation became general, and at length they all
+returned to the house to partake of the Doctor's hospitality, who
+promised to dine at the hall on the morrow. The ride home was
+agreeable and animated, but the conversation on the part of the ladies
+was principally maintained by Lady Annabel, who seemed every moment
+more delighted with the society of Lord Cadurcis, and to sympathise
+every instant more completely with his frank exposition of his
+opinions on all subjects. When they returned to Cherbury, Cadurcis
+remained with them as a matter of course. An invitation was neither
+expected nor given. Not an allusion was made to the sports of the
+field, to enjoy which was the original purpose of his visit to the
+abbey; and he spoke of to-morrow as of a period which, as usual, was
+to be spent entirely in their society. He remained with them, as on
+the previous night, to the latest possible moment. Although reserved
+in society, no one could be more fluent with those with whom he was
+perfectly unembarrassed. He was indeed exceedingly entertaining, and
+Lady Annabel relaxed into conversation beyond her custom. As for
+Venetia, she did not speak often, but she listened with interest, and
+was evidently amused. When Cadurcis bade them good-night Lady Annabel
+begged him to breakfast with them; while Venetia, serene, though kind,
+neither seconded the invitation, nor seemed interested one way or the
+other in its result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Except returning to sleep at the abbey, Lord Cadurcis was now as much
+an habitual inmate of Cherbury Hall as in the days of his childhood.
+He was there almost with the lark, and never quitted its roof until
+its inmates were about to retire for the night. His guns and dogs,
+which had been sent down from London with so much pomp of preparation,
+were unused and unnoticed; and he passed his days in reading
+Richardson's novels, which he had brought with him from town, to the
+ladies, and then in riding with them about the country, for he loved
+to visit all his old haunts, and trace even the very green sward
+where he first met the gipsies, and fancied that he had achieved his
+emancipation from all the coming cares and annoyances of the world.
+In this pleasant life several weeks had glided away: Cadurcis had
+entirely resumed his old footing in the family, nor did he attempt to
+conceal the homage he was paying to the charms of Venetia. She indeed
+seemed utterly unconscious that such projects had entered, or indeed
+could enter, the brain of her old playfellow, with whom, now that
+she was habituated to his presence, and revived by his inspiriting
+society, she had resumed all her old familiar intimacy, addressing him
+by his Christian name, as if he had never ceased to be her brother.
+But Lady Annabel was not so blind as her daughter, and had indeed her
+vision been as clouded, her faithful minister, Mistress Pauncefort,
+would have taken care quickly to couch it; for a very short time had
+elapsed before that vigilant gentlewoman, resolved to convince her
+mistress that nothing could escape her sleepless scrutiny, and that it
+was equally in vain for her mistress to hope to possess any secrets
+without her participation, seized a convenient opportunity before she
+bid her lady good night, just to inquire 'when it might be expected to
+take place?' and in reply to the very evident astonishment which Lady
+Annabel testified at this question, and the expression of her extreme
+displeasure at any conversation on a circumstance for which there
+was not the slightest foundation, Mistress Pauncefort, after duly
+flouncing about with every possible symbol of pettish agitation and
+mortified curiosity, her cheek pale with hesitating impertinence, and
+her nose quivering with inquisitiveness, condescended to admit with a
+sceptical sneer, that, of course, no doubt her ladyship knew more of
+such a subject than she could; it was not her place to know anything
+of such business; for her part she said nothing; it was not her
+place, but if it were, she certainly must say that she could not help
+believing that my lord was looking remarkably sweet on Miss Venetia,
+and what was more, everybody in the house thought the same, though for
+her part, whenever they mentioned the circumstance to her, she said
+nothing, or bid them hold their tongues, for what was it to them; it
+was not their business, and they could know nothing; and that nothing
+would displease her ladyship more than chattering on such subjects,
+and many's the match as good as finished, that's gone off by no worse
+means than the chitter-chatter of those who should hold their tongues.
+Therefore she should say no more; but if her ladyship wished her to
+contradict it, why she could, and the sooner, perhaps, the better.
+
+Lady Annabel observed to her that she wished no such thing, but
+she desired that Pauncefort would make no more observations on the
+subject, either to her or to any one else. And then Pauncefort bade
+her ladyship good night in a huff, catching up her candle with a
+rather impertinent jerk, and gently slamming the door, as if she had
+meant to close it quietly, only it had escaped out of her fingers.
+
+Whatever might be the tone, whether of surprise or displeasure, which
+Lady Annabel thought fit to assume to her attendant on her noticing
+Lord Cadurcis' attentions to her daughter, there is no doubt that
+his conduct had early and long engaged her ladyship's remark, her
+consideration, and her approval. Without meditating indeed an
+immediate union between Cadurcis and Venetia, Lady Annabel pleased
+herself with the prospect of her daughter's eventual marriage with one
+whom she had known so early and so intimately; who was by nature of a
+gentle, sincere, and affectionate disposition, and in whom education
+had carefully instilled the most sound and laudable principles and
+opinions; one apparently with simple tastes, moderate desires, fair
+talents, a mind intelligent, if not brilliant, and passions which at
+the worst had been rather ill-regulated than violent; attached also
+to Venetia from her childhood, and always visibly affected by her
+influence. All these moral considerations seemed to offer a fair
+security for happiness; and the material ones were neither less
+promising, nor altogether disregarded by the mother. It was an union
+which would join broad lands and fair estates; which would place on
+the brow of her daughter one of the most ancient coronets in England;
+and, which indeed was the chief of these considerations, would,
+without exposing Venetia to that contaminating contact with the
+world from which Lady Annabel recoiled, establish her, without this
+initiatory and sorrowful experience, in a position superior to which
+even the blood of the Herberts, though it might flow in so fair and
+gifted a form as that of Venetia, need not aspire.
+
+Lord Cadurcis had not returned to Cherbury a week before this scheme
+entered into the head of Lady Annabel. She had always liked him; had
+always given him credit for good qualities; had always believed that
+his early defects were the consequence of his mother's injudicious
+treatment; and that at heart he was an amiable, generous, and
+trustworthy being, one who might be depended on, with a naturally good
+judgment, and substantial and sufficient talents, which only required
+cultivation. When she met him again after so long an interval, and
+found her early prognostics so fairly, so completely fulfilled, and
+watched his conduct and conversation, exhibiting alike a well-informed
+mind, an obliging temper, and, what Lady Annabel valued even above all
+gifts and blessings, a profound conviction of the truth of all her own
+opinions, moral, political, and religious, she was quite charmed; she
+was moved to unusual animation; she grew excited in his praise; his
+presence delighted her; she entertained for him the warmest affection,
+and reposed in him unbounded confidence. All her hopes became
+concentred in the wish of seeing him her son-in-law; and she detected
+with lively satisfaction the immediate impression which Venetia had
+made upon his heart; for indeed it should not be forgotten, that
+although Lady Annabel was still young, and although her frame and
+temperament were alike promising of a long life, it was natural, when
+she reflected upon the otherwise lone condition of her daughter, that
+she should tremble at the thought of quitting this world without
+leaving her child a protector. To Doctor Masham, from whom Lady
+Annabel had no secrets, she confided in time these happy but covert
+hopes, and he was not less anxious than herself for their fulfilment.
+Since the return of Cadurcis the Doctor contrived to be a more
+frequent visitor at the hall than usual, and he lost no opportunity of
+silently advancing the object of his friend.
+
+As for Cadurcis himself, it was impossible for him not quickly to
+discover that no obstacle to his heart's dearest wish would arise on
+the part of the parent. The demeanour of the daughter somewhat more
+perplexed him. Venetia indeed had entirely fallen into her old habits
+of intimacy and frankness with Plantagenet; she was as affectionate
+and as unembarrassed as in former days, and almost as gay; for his
+presence and companionship had in a great degree insensibly removed
+that stillness and gravity which had gradually influenced her mind and
+conduct. But in that conduct there was, and he observed it with some
+degree of mortification, a total absence of the consciousness of being
+the object of the passionate admiration of another. She treated Lord
+Cadurcis as a brother she much loved, who had returned to his home
+after a long absence. She liked to listen to his conversation, to hear
+of his adventures, to consult over his plans. His arrival called
+a smile to her face, and his departure for the night was always
+alleviated by some allusion to their meeting on the morrow. But many
+an ardent gaze on the part of Cadurcis, and many a phrase of emotion,
+passed unnoticed and unappreciated. His gallantry was entirely
+thrown away, or, if observed, only occasioned a pretty stare at the
+unnecessary trouble he gave himself, or the strange ceremony which
+she supposed an acquaintance with society had taught him. Cadurcis
+attributed this reception of his veiled and delicate overtures to
+her ignorance of the world; and though he sighed for as passionate
+a return to his strong feelings as the sentiments which animated
+himself, he was on the whole not displeased, but rather interested, by
+these indications of a pure and unsophisticated spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis had proposed, and Lady Annabel had seconded the proposition
+with eager satisfaction, that they should seek some day at the abbey
+whatever hospitality it might offer; Dr. Masham was to be of the
+party, which was, indeed, one of those fanciful expeditions where the
+same companions, though they meet at all times without restraint
+and with every convenience of life, seek increased amusement in the
+novelty of a slight change of habits. With the aid of the neighbouring
+town of Southport, Cadurcis had made preparations for his friends not
+entirely unworthy of them, though he affected to the last all the
+air of a conductor of a wild expedition of discovery, and laughingly
+impressed upon them the necessity of steeling their minds and bodies
+to the experience and endurance of the roughest treatment and the most
+severe hardships.
+
+The morning of this eventful day broke as beautifully as the preceding
+ones. Autumn had seldom been more gorgeous than this year. Although he
+was to play the host, Cadurcis would not deprive himself of his usual
+visit to the hall; and he appeared there at an early hour to accompany
+his guests, who were to ride over to the abbey, to husband all their
+energies for their long rambles through the demesne.
+
+Cadurcis was in high spirits, and Lady Annabel scarcely less
+joyous. Venetia smiled with her usual sweetness and serenity. They
+congratulated each other on the charming season; and Mistress
+Pauncefort received a formal invitation to join the party and go
+a-nutting with one of her fellow-servants and his lordship's valet.
+The good Doctor was rather late, but he arrived at last on his stout
+steed, in his accustomed cheerful mood. Here was a party of pleasure
+which all agreed must be pleasant; no strangers to amuse, or to be
+amusing, but formed merely of four human beings who spent every day of
+their lives in each other's society, between whom there was the most
+complete sympathy and the most cordial good-will.
+
+By noon they were all mounted on their steeds, and though the air was
+warmed by a meridian sun shining in a clear sky, there was a gentle
+breeze abroad, sweet and grateful; and moreover they soon entered the
+wood and enjoyed the shelter of its verdant shade. The abbey looked
+most picturesque when they first burst upon it; the nearer and wooded
+hills, which formed its immediate background, just tinted by the
+golden pencil of autumn, while the meads of the valley were still
+emerald green; and the stream, now lost, now winding, glittered
+here and there in the sun, and gave a life and sprightliness to the
+landscape which exceeded even the effect of the more distant and
+expansive lake.
+
+They were received at the abbey by Mistress Pauncefort, who had
+preceded them, and who welcomed them with a complacent smile. Cadurcis
+hastened to assist Lady Annabel to dismount, and was a little confused
+but very pleased when she assured him she needed no assistance but
+requested him to take care of Venetia. He was just in time to receive
+her in his arms, where she found herself without the slightest
+embarrassment. The coolness of the cloisters was grateful after their
+ride, and they lingered and looked upon the old fountain, and felt the
+freshness of its fall with satisfaction which all alike expressed.
+Lady Annabel and Venetia then retired for a while to free themselves
+from their riding habits, and Cadurcis affectionately taking the arm
+of Dr. Masham led him a few paces, and then almost involuntarily
+exclaimed, 'My dear Doctor, I think I am the happiest fellow that ever
+lived!'
+
+'That I trust you may always be, my dear boy,' said Dr. Masham; 'but
+what has called forth this particular exclamation?'
+
+'To feel that I am once more at Cadurcis; to feel that I am here once
+more with you all; to feel that I never shall leave you again.'
+
+'Not again?'
+
+'Never!' said Cadurcis. 'The experience of these last few weeks, which
+yet have seemed an age in my existence, has made me resolve never to
+quit a society where I am persuaded I may obtain a degree of happiness
+which what is called the world can never afford me.'
+
+'What will your guardian say?'
+
+'What care I?'
+
+'A dutiful ward!'
+
+'Poh! the relations between us were formed only to secure my welfare.
+It is secured; it will be secured by my own resolution.'
+
+'And what is that?' inquired Dr. Masham.
+
+'To marry Venetia, if she will accept me.'
+
+'And that you do not doubt.'
+
+'We doubt everything when everything is at stake,' replied Lord
+Cadurcis. 'I know that her consent would ensure my happiness; and when
+I reflect, I cannot help being equally persuaded that it would secure
+hers. Her mother, I think, would not be adverse to our union. And you,
+my dear sir, what do you think?'
+
+'I think,' said Dr. Masham, 'that whoever marries Venetia will marry
+the most beautiful and the most gifted of God's creatures; I hope you
+may marry her; I wish you to marry her; I believe you will marry her,
+but not yet; you are too young, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Oh, no! my dear Doctor, not too young to marry Venetia. Remember I
+have known her all my life, at least so long as I have been able to
+form an opinion. How few are the men, my dear Doctor, who are so
+fortunate as to unite themselves with women whom they have known, as I
+have known Venetia, for more than seven long years!'
+
+'During five of which you have never seen or heard of her.'
+
+'Mine was the fault! And yet I cannot help thinking, as it may
+probably turn out, as you yourself believe it will turn out, that
+it is as well that we have been separated for this interval. It has
+afforded me opportunities for observation which I should never have
+enjoyed at Cadurcis; and although my lot either way could not have
+altered the nature of things, I might have been discontented, I might
+have sighed for a world which now I do not value. It is true I have
+not seen Venetia for five years, but I find her the same, or changed
+only by nature, and fulfilling all the rich promise which her
+childhood intimated. No, my dear Doctor, I respect your opinion more
+than that of any man living; but nobody, nothing, can persuade me that
+I am not as intimately acquainted with Venetia's character, with all
+her rare virtues, as if we had never separated.'
+
+'I do not doubt it,' said the Doctor; 'high as you may pitch your
+estimate you cannot overvalue her.'
+
+'Then why should we not marry?'
+
+'Because, my dear friend, although you may be perfectly acquainted
+with Venetia, you cannot be perfectly acquainted with yourself.'
+
+'How so?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis in a tone of surprise, perhaps a
+little indignant.
+
+'Because it is impossible. No young man of eighteen ever possessed
+such precious knowledge. I esteem and admire you; I give you every
+credit for a good heart and a sound head; but it is impossible, at
+your time of life, that your character can be formed; and, until it
+be, you may marry Venetia and yet be a very miserable man.'
+
+'It is formed,' said his lordship firmly; 'there is not a subject
+important to a human being on which my opinions are not settled.'
+
+'You may live to change them all,' said the Doctor, 'and that very
+speedily.'
+
+'Impossible!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'My dear Doctor, I cannot understand
+you; you say that you hope, that you wish, even that you believe that
+I shall marry Venetia; and yet you permit me to infer that our union
+will only make us miserable. What do you wish me to do?'
+
+'Go to college for a term or two.'
+
+'Without Venetia! I should die.'
+
+'Well, if you be in a dying state you can return.'
+
+'You joke, my dear Doctor.'
+
+'My dear boy, I am perfectly serious.'
+
+'But she may marry somebody else?'
+
+'I am your only rival,' said the Doctor, with a smile; 'and though
+even friends can scarcely be trusted under such circumstances, I
+promise you not to betray you.'
+
+'Your advice is not very pleasant,' said his lordship.
+
+'Good advice seldom is,' said the Doctor.
+
+'My dear Doctor, I have made up my mind to marry her, and marry her at
+once. I know her well, you admit that yourself. I do not believe that
+there ever was a woman like her, that there ever will be a woman like
+her. Nature has marked her out from other women, and her education
+has not been less peculiar. Her mystic breeding pleases me. It
+is something to marry a wife so fair, so pure, so refined, so
+accomplished, who is, nevertheless, perfectly ignorant of the world.
+I have dreamt of such things; I have paced these old cloisters when a
+boy and when I was miserable at home, and I have had visions, and
+this was one. I have sighed to live alone with a fair spirit for my
+minister. Venetia has descended from heaven for me, and for me alone.
+I am resolved I will pluck this flower with the dew upon its leaves.'
+
+'I did not know I was reasoning with a poet,' said the Doctor, with a
+smile. 'Had I been conscious of it, I would not have been so rash.'
+
+'I have not a grain of poetry in my composition,' said his lordship;
+'I never could write a verse; I was notorious at Eton for begging all
+their old manuscripts from boys when they left school, to crib from;
+but I have a heart, and I can feel. I love Venetia, I have always
+loved her, and, if possible, I will marry her, and marry her at once.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The reappearance of the ladies at the end of the cloister terminated
+this conversation, the result of which was rather to confirm Lord
+Cadurcis in his resolution of instantly urging his suit, than the
+reverse. He ran forward to greet his friends with a smile, and took
+his place by the side of Venetia, whom, a little to her surprise, he
+congratulated in glowing phrase on her charming costume. Indeed she
+looked very captivating, with a pastoral hat, then much in fashion,
+and a dress as simple and as sylvan, both showing to admirable
+advantage her long descending hair, and her agile and springy figure.
+
+Cadurcis proposed that they should ramble over the abbey, he talked of
+projected alterations, as if he really had the power immediately to
+effect them, and was desirous of obtaining their opinions before any
+change was made. So they ascended the staircase which many years
+before Venetia had mounted for the first time with her mother, and
+entered that series of small and ill-furnished rooms in which Mrs.
+Cadurcis had principally resided, and which had undergone no change.
+The old pictures were examined; these, all agreed, never must move;
+and the new furniture, it was settled, must be in character with the
+building. Lady Annabel entered into all the details with an interest
+and animation which rather amused Dr. Masham. Venetia listened and
+suggested, and responded to the frequent appeals of Cadurcis to her
+judgment with an unconscious equanimity not less diverting.
+
+'Now here we really can do something,' said his lordship as they
+entered the saloon, or rather refectory; 'here I think we may effect
+wonders. The tapestry must always remain. Is it not magnificent,
+Venetia? But what hangings shall we have? We must keep the old chairs,
+I think. Do you approve of the old chairs, Venetia? And what shall we
+cover them with? Shall it be damask? What do you think, Venetia? Do
+you like damask? And what colour shall it be? Shall it be crimson?
+Shall it be crimson damask, Lady Annabel? Do you think Venetia would
+like crimson damask? Now, Venetia, do give us the benefit of your
+opinion.'
+
+Then they entered the old gallery; here was to be a great
+transformation. Marvels were to be effected in the old gallery,
+and many and multiplied were the appeals to the taste and fancy of
+Venetia.
+
+'I think,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I shall leave the gallery to be
+arranged when I am settled. The rooms and the saloon shall be done at
+once, I shall give orders for them to begin instantly. Whom do you
+recommend, Lady Annabel? Do you think there is any person at Southport
+who could manage to do it, superintended by our taste? Venetia, what
+do you think?'
+
+Venetia was standing at the window, rather apart from her companions,
+looking at the old garden. Lord Cadurcis joined her. 'Ah! it has been
+sadly neglected since my poor mother's time. We could not do much in
+those days, but still she loved this garden. I must depend upon you
+entirely to arrange my garden, Venetia. This spot is sacred to you.
+You have not forgotten our labours here, have you, Venetia? Ah! those
+were happy days, and these shall be more happy still. This is your
+garden; it shall always be called Venetia's garden.'
+
+'I would have taken care of it when you were away, but--'
+
+'But what?' inquired Lord Cadurcis anxiously.
+
+'We hardly felt authorised,' replied Venetia calmly. 'We came at first
+when you left Cadurcis, but at last it did not seem that our presence
+was very acceptable.'
+
+'The brutes!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'No, no; good simple people, they were unused to orders from strange
+masters, and they were perplexed. Besides, we had no right to
+interfere.'
+
+'No right to interfere! Venetia, my little fellow-labourer, no
+right to interfere! Why all is yours! Fancy your having no right to
+interfere at Cadurcis!'
+
+Then they proceeded to the park and wandered to the margin of the
+lake. There was not a spot, not an object, which did not recall
+some adventure or incident of childhood. Every moment Lord Cadurcis
+exclaimed, 'Venetia! do you remember this?' 'Venetia! have you
+forgotten that?' and every time Venetia smiled, and proved how
+faithful was her memory by adding some little unmentioned trait to the
+lively reminiscences of her companion.
+
+'Well, after all,' said Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'my poor mother was
+a strange woman, and, God bless her! used sometimes to worry me out
+of my senses! but still she always loved you. No one can deny that.
+Cherbury was a magic name with her. She loved Lady Annabel, and she
+loved you, Venetia. It ran in the blood, you see. She would be happy,
+quite happy, if she saw us all here together, and if she knew--'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Lady Annabel, 'you must build a lodge at this
+end of the park. I cannot conceive anything more effective than an
+entrance from the Southport road in this quarter.'
+
+'Certainly, Lady Annabel, certainly we must build a lodge. Do not you
+think so, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed I think it would be a great improvement,' replied Venetia;
+'but you must take care to have a lodge in character with the abbey.'
+
+'You shall make a drawing for it,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'it shall be
+built directly, and it shall be called Venetia Lodge.'
+
+The hours flew away, loitering in the park, roaming in the woods. They
+met Mistress Pauncefort and her friends loaded with plunder, and they
+offered to Venetia a trophy of their success; but when Venetia, merely
+to please their kind hearts, accepted their tribute with cordiality,
+and declared there was nothing she liked better, Lord Cadurcis would
+not be satisfied unless he immediately commenced nutting, and each
+moment he bore to Venetia the produce of his sport, till in time she
+could scarcely sustain the rich and increasing burden. At length they
+bent their steps towards home, sufficiently wearied to look forward
+with welcome to rest and their repast, yet not fatigued, and
+exhilarated by the atmosphere, for the sun was now in its decline,
+though in this favoured season there were yet hours enough remaining
+of enchanting light.
+
+In the refectory they found, to the surprise of all but their host, a
+banquet. It was just one of those occasions when nothing is
+expected and everything is welcome and surprising; when, from the
+unpremeditated air generally assumed, all preparation startles and
+pleases; when even ladies are not ashamed to eat, and formality
+appears quite banished. Game of all kinds, teal from the lake,
+and piles of beautiful fruit, made the table alike tempting and
+picturesque. Then there were stray bottles of rare wine disinterred
+from venerable cellars; and, more inspiriting even than the choice
+wine, a host under the influence of every emotion, and swayed by every
+circumstance that can make a man happy and delightful. Oh! they were
+very gay, and it seemed difficult to believe that care or sorrow,
+or the dominion of dark or ungracious passions, could ever disturb
+sympathies so complete and countenances so radiant.
+
+At the urgent request of Cadurcis, Venetia sang to them; and while she
+sang, the expression of her countenance and voice harmonising with the
+arch hilarity of the subject, Plantagenet for a moment believed that
+he beheld the little Venetia of his youth, that sunny child so full
+of mirth and grace, the very recollection of whose lively and bright
+existence might enliven the gloomiest hour and lighten the heaviest
+heart.
+
+Enchanted by all that surrounded him, full of hope, and joy, and
+plans of future felicity, emboldened by the kindness of the daughter,
+Cadurcis now ventured to urge a request to Lady Annabel, and the
+request was granted, for all seemed to feel that it was a day on which
+nothing was to be refused to their friend. Happy Cadurcis! The child
+had a holiday, and it fancied itself a man enjoying a triumph. In
+compliance, therefore, with his wish, it was settled that they should
+all walk back to the hall; even Dr. Masham declared he was competent
+to the exertion, but perhaps was half entrapped into the declaration
+by the promise of a bed at Cherbury. This consent enchanted Cadurcis,
+who looked forward with exquisite pleasure to the evening walk with
+Venetia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Although the sun had not set, it had sunk behind the hills leading
+to Cherbury when our friends quitted the abbey. Cadurcis, without
+hesitation, offered his arm to Venetia, and whether from a secret
+sympathy with his wishes, or merely from some fortunate accident, Lady
+Annabel and Dr. Masham strolled on before without busying themselves
+too earnestly with their companions.
+
+'And how do you think our expedition to Cadurcis has turned out?'
+inquired the young lord, of Venetia, 'Has it been successful?'
+
+'It has been one of the most agreeable days I ever passed,' was the
+reply.
+
+'Then it has been successful,' rejoined his lordship; 'for my only
+wish was to amuse you.'
+
+'I think we have all been equally amused,' said Venetia. 'I never knew
+mamma in such good spirits. I think ever since you returned she has
+been unusually light-hearted.'
+
+'And you: has my return lightened only her heart, Venetia?'
+
+'Indeed it has contributed to the happiness of every one.'
+
+'And yet, when I first returned, I heard you utter a complaint; the
+first that to my knowledge ever escaped your lips.'
+
+'Ah! we cannot be always equally gay.'
+
+'Once you were, dear Venetia.'
+
+'I was a child then.'
+
+'And I, I too was a child; yet I am happy, at least now that I am with
+you.'
+
+'Well, we are both happy now.'
+
+'Oh! say that again, say that again, Venetia; for indeed you made me
+miserable when you told me that you had changed. I cannot bear that
+you, Venetia, should ever change.'
+
+'It is the course of nature, Plantagenet; we all change, everything
+changes. This day that was so bright is changing fast.'
+
+'The stars are as beautiful as the sun, Venetia.'
+
+'And what do you infer?'
+
+'That Venetia, a woman, is as beautiful as Venetia, a little girl; and
+should be as happy.'
+
+'Is beauty happiness, Plantagenet?'
+
+'It makes others happy, Venetia; and when we make others happy we
+should be happy ourselves.'
+
+'Few depend upon my influence, and I trust all of them are happy.'
+
+'No one depends upon your influence more than I do.'
+
+'Well, then, be happy always.'
+
+'Would that I might! Ah, Venetia! can I ever forget old days? You were
+the solace of my dark childhood; you were the charm that first taught
+me existence was enjoyment. Before I came to Cherbury I never was
+happy, and since that hour--Ah, Venetia! dear, dearest Venetia! who is
+like to you?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, you were always too kind to me. Would we were
+children once more!'
+
+'Nay, my own Venetia! you tell me everything changes, and we must not
+murmur at the course of nature. I would not have our childhood back
+again, even with all its joys, for there are others yet in store for
+us, not less pure, not less beautiful. We loved each other then,
+Venetia, and we love each other now.'
+
+'My feelings towards you have never changed, Plantagenet; I heard
+of you always with interest, and I met you again with heartfelt
+pleasure.'
+
+'Oh, that morning! Have you forgotten that morning? Do you know, you
+will smile very much, but I really believe that I expected to see my
+Venetia still a little girl, the very same who greeted me when I first
+arrived with my mother and behaved so naughtily! And when I saw you,
+and found what you had become, and what I ought always to have known
+you must become, I was so confused I entirely lost my presence of
+mind. You must have thought me very awkward, very stupid?'
+
+'Indeed, I was rather gratified by observing that you could not meet
+us again without emotion. I thought it told well for your heart, which
+I always believed to be most kind, at least, I am sure, to us.'
+
+'Kind! oh, Venetia! that word but ill describes what my heart ever
+was, what it now is, to you. Venetia! dearest, sweetest Venetia!
+can you doubt for a moment my feelings towards your home, and what
+influence must principally impel them? Am I so dull, or you so blind,
+Venetia? Can I not express, can you not discover how much, how
+ardently, how fondly, how devotedly, I, I, I love you?'
+
+'I am sure we always loved each other, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Yes! but not with this love; not as I love you now!'
+
+Venetia stared.
+
+'I thought we could not love each other more than we did,
+Plantagenet,' at length she said. 'Do you remember the jewel that you
+gave me? I always wore it until you seemed to forget us, and then I
+thought it looked so foolish! You remember what is inscribed on it:
+'TO VENETIA, FROM HER AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, PLANTAGENET.' And as a
+brother I always loved you; had I indeed been your sister I could not
+have loved you more warmly and more truly.'
+
+'I am not your brother, Venetia; I wish not to be loved as a brother:
+and yet I must be loved by you, or I shall die.'
+
+'What then do you wish?' inquired Venetia, with great simplicity.
+
+'I wish you to marry me,' replied Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Marry!' exclaimed Venetia, with a face of wonder. 'Marry! Marry you!
+Marry you, Plantagenet!'
+
+'Ay! is that so wonderful? I love you, and if you love me, why should
+we not marry?'
+
+Venetia was silent and looked upon the ground, not from agitation,
+for she was quite calm, but in thought; and then she said, 'I never
+thought of marriage in my life, Plantagenet; I have no intention, no
+wish to marry; I mean to live always with mamma.'
+
+'And you shall always live with mamma, but that need not prevent you
+from marrying me,' he replied. 'Do not we all live together now? What
+will it signify if you dwell at Cadurcis and Lady Annabel at Cherbury?
+Is it not one home? But at any rate, this point shall not be an
+obstacle; for if it please you we will all live at Cherbury.'
+
+'You say that we are happy now, Plantagenet; oh! let us remain as we
+are.'
+
+'My own sweet girl, my sister, if you please, any title, so it be one
+of fondness, your sweet simplicity charms me; but, believe me, it
+cannot be as you wish; we cannot remain as we are unless we marry.'
+
+'Why not?'
+
+'Because I shall be wretched and must live elsewhere, if indeed I can
+live at all.'
+
+'Oh, Plantagenet! indeed I thought you were my brother; when I found
+you after so long a separation as kind as in old days, and kinder
+still, I was so glad; I was so sure you loved me; I thought I had the
+kindest brother in the world. Let us not talk of any other love. It
+will, indeed it will, make mamma so miserable!'
+
+'I am greatly mistaken,' replied Lord Cadurcis, who saw no obstacles
+to his hopes in their conversation hitherto, 'if, on the contrary, our
+union would not prove far from disagreeable to your mother, Venetia; I
+will say our mother, for indeed to me she has been one.'
+
+'Plantagenet,' said Venetia, in a very earnest tone, 'I love you
+very much; but, if you love me, press me on this subject no more at
+present. You have surprised, indeed you have bewildered me. There are
+thoughts, there are feelings, there are considerations, that must be
+respected, that must influence me. Nay! do not look so sorrowful,
+Plantagenet. Let us be happy now. To-morrow, only to-morrow, and
+to-morrow we are sure to meet, we will speak further of all this; but
+now, now, for a moment let us forget it, if we can forget anything so
+strange. Nay! you shall smile!'
+
+He did. Who could resist that mild and winning glance! And indeed Lord
+Cadurcis was scarcely disappointed, and not at all mortified at his
+reception, or, as he esteemed it, the progress of his suit. The
+conduct of Venetia he attributed entirely to her unsophisticated
+nature and the timidity of a virgin soul. It made him prize even more
+dearly the treasure that he believed awaited him. Silent, then, though
+for a time they both struggled to speak on different subjects, silent,
+and almost content, Cadurcis proceeded, with the arm of Venetia locked
+in his and ever and anon unconsciously pressing it to his heart. The
+rosy twilight had faded away, the stars were stealing forth, and the
+moon again glittered. With a soul softer than the tinted shades of eve
+and glowing like the heavens, Cadurcis joined his companions as they
+entered the gardens of Cherbury. When they had arrived at home it
+seemed that exhaustion had suddenly succeeded all the excitement
+of the day. The Doctor, who was wearied, retired immediately. Lady
+Annabel pressed Cadurcis to remain and take tea, or, at least to ride
+home; but his lordship, protesting that he was not in the slightest
+degree fatigued, and anticipating their speedy union on the morrow,
+bade her good night, and pressing with fondness the hand of Venetia,
+retraced his steps to the now solitary abbey.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Cadurcis returned to the abbey, but not to slumber. That love of
+loneliness which had haunted him from his boyhood, and which ever
+asserted its sway when under the influence of his passions, came over
+him now with irresistible power. A day of enjoyment had terminated,
+and it left him melancholy. Hour after hour he paced the moon-lit
+cloisters of his abbey, where not a sound disturbed him, save the
+monotonous fall of the fountain, that seems by some inexplicable
+association always to blend with and never to disturb our feelings;
+gay when we are joyful, and sad amid our sorrow.
+
+Yet was he sorrowful! He was gloomy, and fell into a reverie about
+himself, a subject to him ever perplexing and distressing. His
+conversation of the morning with Doctor Masham recurred to him. What
+did the Doctor mean by his character not being formed, and that
+he might yet live to change all his opinions? Character! what was
+character? It must be will; and his will was violent and firm. Young
+as he was, he had early habituated himself to reflection, and the
+result of his musings had been a desire to live away from the world
+with those he loved. The world, as other men viewed it, had no charms
+for him. Its pursuits and passions seemed to him on the whole paltry
+and faint. He could sympathise with great deeds, but not with bustling
+life. That which was common did not please him. He loved things that
+were rare and strange; and the spell that bound him so strongly to
+Venetia Herbert was her unusual life, and the singular circumstances
+of her destiny that were not unknown to him. True he was young;
+but, lord of himself, youth was associated with none of those
+mortifications which make the juvenile pant for manhood. Cadurcis
+valued his youth and treasured it. He could not conceive love, and the
+romantic life that love should lead, without the circumambient charm
+of youth adding fresh lustre to all that was bright and fair, and a
+keener relish to every combination of enjoyment. The moonbeam fell
+upon his mother's monument, a tablet on the cloister wall that
+recorded the birth and death of KATHERINE CADURCIS. His thoughts flew
+to his ancestry. They had conquered in France and Palestine, and left
+a memorable name to the annalist of his country. Those days were past,
+and yet Cadurcis felt within him the desire, perhaps the power, of
+emulating them; but what remained? What career was open in this
+mechanical age to the chivalric genius of his race? Was he misplaced
+then in life? The applause of nations, there was something grand and
+exciting in such a possession. To be the marvel of mankind what would
+he not hazard? Dreams, dreams! If his ancestors were valiant and
+celebrated it remained for him to rival, to excel them, at least in
+one respect. Their coronet had never rested on a brow fairer than
+the one for which he destined it. Venetia then, independently of his
+passionate love, was the only apparent object worth his pursuit, the
+only thing in this world that had realised his dreams, dreams sacred
+to his own musing soul, that even she had never shared or guessed. And
+she, she was to be his. He could not doubt it: but to-morrow would
+decide; to-morrow would seal his triumph.
+
+His sleep was short and restless; he had almost out-watched the stars,
+and yet he rose with the early morn. His first thought was of Venetia;
+he was impatient for the interview, the interview she promised and
+even proposed. The fresh air was grateful to him; he bounded along to
+Cherbury, and brushed the dew in his progress from the tall grass and
+shrubs. In sight of the hall, he for a moment paused. He was before
+his accustomed hour; and yet he was always too soon. Not to-day,
+though, not to-day; suddenly he rushes forward and springs down the
+green vista, for Venetia is on the terrace, and alone!
+
+Always kind, this morning she greeted him with unusual affection.
+Never had she seemed to him so exquisitely beautiful. Perhaps her
+countenance to-day was more pale than wont. There seemed a softness in
+her eyes usually so brilliant and even dazzling; the accents of her
+salutation were suppressed and tender.
+
+'I thought you would be here early,' she remarked, 'and therefore I
+rose to meet you.'
+
+Was he to infer from this artless confession that his image had
+haunted her in her dreams, or only that she would not delay the
+conversation on which his happiness depended? He could scarcely doubt
+which version to adopt when she took his arm and led him from the
+terrace to walk where they could not be disturbed.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' she said, 'for indeed you are very dear to me; I
+told you last night that I would speak to you to-day on your wishes,
+that are so kind to me and so much intended for my happiness. I do not
+love suspense; but indeed last night I was too much surprised, too
+much overcome by what occurred, that exhausted as I naturally was by
+all our pleasure, I could not tell you what I wished; indeed I could
+not, dear Plantagenet.'
+
+'My own Venetia!'
+
+'So I hope you will always deem me; for I should be very unhappy if
+you did not love me, Plantagenet, more unhappy than I have even been
+these last two years; and I have been very unhappy, very unhappy
+indeed, Plantagenet.'
+
+'Unhappy, Venetia! my Venetia unhappy?'
+
+'Listen! I will not weep. I can control my feelings. I have learnt to
+do this; it is very sad, and very different to what my life once was;
+but I can do it.'
+
+'You amaze me!'
+
+Venetia sighed, and then resumed, but in a tone mournful and low, and
+yet to a degree firm.
+
+'You have been away five years, Plantagenet.'
+
+'But you have pardoned that.'
+
+'I never blamed you; I had nothing to pardon. It was well for you to
+be away; and I rejoice your absence has been so profitable to you.'
+
+'But it was wicked to have been so silent.'
+
+'Oh! no, no, no! Such ideas never entered into my head, nor even
+mamma's. You were very young; you did as all would, as all must do.
+Harbour not such thoughts. Enough, you have returned and love us yet.'
+
+'Love! adore!'
+
+'Five years are a long space of time, Plantagenet. Events will happen
+in five years, even at Cherbury. I told you I was changed.'
+
+'Yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, in a voice of some anxiety, with a
+scrutinising eye.
+
+'You left me a happy child; you find me a woman, and a miserable one.'
+
+'Good God, Venetia! this suspense is awful. Be brief, I pray you. Has
+any one--'
+
+Venetia looked at him with an air of perplexity. She could not
+comprehend the idea that impelled his interruption.
+
+'Go on,' Lord Cadurcis added, after a short pause; 'I am indeed all
+anxiety.'
+
+'You remember that Christmas which you passed at the hall and walking
+at night in the gallery, and--'
+
+'Well! Your mother, I shall never forget it.'
+
+'You found her weeping when you were once at Marringhurst. You told me
+of it.'
+
+'Ay, ay!'
+
+'There is a wing of our house shut up. We often talked of it.'
+
+'Often, Venetia; it was a mystery.'
+
+'I have penetrated it,' replied Venetia in a solemn tone; 'and never
+have I known what happiness is since.'
+
+'Yes, yes!' said Lord Cadurcis, very pale, and in a whisper.
+
+'Plantagenet, I have a father.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis started, and for an instant his arm quitted Venetia's.
+At length he said in a gloomy voice, 'I know it.'
+
+'Know it!' exclaimed Venetia with astonishment. 'Who could have told
+you the secret?'
+
+'It is no secret,' replied Cadurcis; 'would that it were!'
+
+'Would that it were! How strange you speak, how strange you look,
+Plantagenet! If it be no secret that I have a father, why this
+concealment then? I know that I am not the child of shame!' she added,
+after a moment's pause, with an air of pride. A tear stole down the
+cheek of Cadurcis.
+
+'Plantagenet! dear, good Plantagenet! my brother! my own brother! see,
+I kneel to you; Venetia kneels to you! your own Venetia! Venetia that
+you love! Oh! if you knew the load that is on my spirit bearing me
+down to a grave which I would almost welcome, you would speak to me;
+you would tell me all. I have sighed for this; I have longed for this;
+I have prayed for this. To meet some one who would speak to me of my
+father; who had heard of him, who knew him; has been for years the
+only thought of my being, the only object for which I existed. And
+now, here comes Plantagenet, my brother! my own brother! and he knows
+all, and he will tell me; yes, that he will; he will tell his Venetia
+all, all!'
+
+'Is there not your mother?' said Lord Cadurcis, in a broken tone.
+
+'Forbidden, utterly forbidden. If I speak, they tell me her heart will
+break; and therefore mine is breaking.'
+
+'Have you no friend?'
+
+'Are not you my friend?'
+
+'Doctor Masham?'
+
+'I have applied to him; he tells me that he lives, and then he shakes
+his head.'
+
+'You never saw your father; think not of him.'
+
+'Not think of him!' exclaimed Venetia, with extraordinary energy. 'Of
+what else? For what do I live but to think of him? What object have I
+in life but to see him? I have seen him, once.'
+
+'Ah!'
+
+'I know his form by heart, and yet it was but a shade. Oh, what a
+shade! what a glorious, what an immortal shade! If gods were upon
+earth they would be like my father!'
+
+'His deeds, at least, are not godlike,' observed Lord Cadurcis dryly,
+and with some bitterness.
+
+'I deny it!' said Venetia, her eyes sparkling with fire, her form
+dilated with enthusiasm, and involuntarily withdrawing her arm from
+her companion. Lord Cadurcis looked exceedingly astonished.
+
+'You deny it!' he exclaimed. 'And what should you know about it?'
+
+'Nature whispers to me that nothing but what is grand and noble could
+be breathed by those lips, or fulfilled by that form.'
+
+'I am glad you have not read his works,' said Lord Cadurcis, with
+increased bitterness. 'As for his conduct, your mother is a living
+evidence of his honour, his generosity, and his virtue.'
+
+'My mother!' said Venetia, in a softened voice; 'and yet he loved my
+mother!'
+
+'She was his victim, as a thousand others may have been.'
+
+'She is his wife!' replied Venetia, with some anxiety.
+
+'Yes, a deserted wife; is that preferable to being a cherished
+mistress? More honourable, but scarcely less humiliating.'
+
+'She must have misunderstood him,' said Venetia. 'I have perused the
+secret vows of his passion. I have read his praises of her beauty.
+I have pored over the music of his emotions when he first became a
+father; yes, he has gazed on me, even though but for a moment, with
+love! Over me he has breathed forth the hallowed blessing of a parent!
+That transcendent form has pressed his lips to mine, and held me with
+fondness to his heart! And shall I credit aught to his dishonour? Is
+there a being in existence who can persuade me he is heartless or
+abandoned? No! I love him! I adore him! I am devoted to him with all
+the energies of my being! I live only on the memory that he lives,
+and, were he to die, I should pray to my God that I might join him
+without delay in a world where it cannot be justice to separate a
+child from a father.'
+
+And this was Venetia! the fair, the serene Venetia! the young, the
+inexperienced Venetia! pausing, as it were, on the parting threshold
+of girlhood, whom, but a few hours since, he had fancied could
+scarcely have proved a passion; who appeared to him barely to
+comprehend the meaning of his advances; for whose calmness or whose
+coldness he had consoled himself by the flattering conviction of her
+unknowing innocence. Before him stood a beautiful and inspired Moenad,
+her eye flashing supernatural fire, her form elevated above her
+accustomed stature, defiance on her swelling brow, and passion on her
+quivering lip!
+
+Gentle and sensitive as Cadurcis ever appeared to those he loved,
+there was in his soul a deep and unfathomed well of passions that had
+been never stirred, and a bitter and mocking spirit in his brain, of
+which he was himself unconscious. He had repaired this hopeful morn to
+Cherbury to receive, as he believed, the plighted faith of a simple
+and affectionate, perhaps grateful, girl. That her unsophisticated and
+untutored spirit might not receive the advances of his heart with an
+equal and corresponding ardour, he was prepared. It pleased him
+that he should watch the gradual development of this bud of sweet
+affections, waiting, with proud anxiety, her fragrant and her
+full-blown love. But now it appeared that her coldness or her
+indifference might be ascribed to any other cause than the one to
+which he had attributed it, the innocence of an inexperienced mind.
+This girl was no stranger to powerful passions; she could love, and
+love with fervency, with devotion, with enthusiasm. This child of joy
+was a woman of deep and thoughtful sorrows, brooding in solitude over
+high resolves and passionate aspirations. Why were not the emotions
+of such a tumultuous soul excited by himself? To him she was calm and
+imperturbable; she called him brother, she treated him as a child. But
+a picture, a fantastic shade, could raise in her a tempestuous swell
+of sentiment that transformed her whole mind, and changed the colour
+of all her hopes and thoughts. Deeply prejudiced against her father,
+Cadurcis now hated him, and with a fell and ferocious earnestness that
+few bosoms but his could prove. Pale with rage, he ground his teeth
+and watched her with a glance of sarcastic aversion.
+
+'You led me here to listen to a communication which interested me,' he
+at length said. 'Have I heard it?'
+
+His altered tone, the air of haughtiness which he assumed, were
+not lost upon Venetia. She endeavoured to collect herself, but she
+hesitated to reply.
+
+'I repeat my inquiry,' said Cadurcis. 'Have you brought me here only
+to inform me that you have a father, and that you adore him, or his
+picture?'
+
+'I led you here,' replied Venetia, in a subdued tone, and looking on
+the ground, 'to thank you for your love, and to confess to you that I
+love another.'
+
+'Love another!' exclaimed Cadurcis, in a tone of derision. Simpleton!
+The best thing your mother can do is to lock you up in the chamber
+with the picture that has produced such marvellous effects.'
+
+'I am no simpleton, Plantagenet,' rejoined Venetia, quietly, 'but one
+who is acting as she thinks right; and not only as her mind, but as
+her heart prompts her.'
+
+They had stopped in the earlier part of this conversation on a little
+plot of turf surrounded by shrubs; Cadurcis walked up and down this
+area with angry steps, occasionally glancing at Venetia with a look of
+mortification and displeasure.
+
+'I tell you, Venetia,' he at length said, 'that you are a little fool.
+What do you mean by saying that you cannot marry me because you love
+another? Is not that other, by your own account, your father? Love him
+as much as you like. Is that to prevent you from loving your husband
+also?'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are rude, and unnecessarily so,' said Venetia. 'I
+repeat to you again, and for the last time, that all my heart is my
+father's. It would be wicked in me to marry you, because I cannot love
+you as a husband should be loved. I can never love you as I love my
+father. However, it is useless to talk upon this subject. I have not
+even the power of marrying you if I wished, for I have dedicated
+myself to my father in the name of God; and I have offered a vow, to
+be registered in heaven, that thenceforth I would exist only for the
+purpose of being restored to his heart.'
+
+'I congratulate you on your parent, Miss Herbert.'
+
+'I feel that I ought to be proud of him, though, alas I can only feel
+it. But, whatever your opinion may be of my father, I beg you to
+remember that you are speaking to his child.'
+
+'I shall state my opinion respecting your father, madam, with the most
+perfect unreserve, wherever and whenever I choose; quite convinced
+that, however you esteem that opinion, it will not be widely different
+from the real sentiments of the only parent whom you ought to respect,
+and whom you are bound to obey.'
+
+'And I can tell you, sir, that whatever your opinion is on any subject
+it will never influence mine. If, indeed, I were the mistress of my
+own destiny, which I am not, it would have been equally out of my
+power to have acted as you have so singularly proposed. I do not wish
+to marry, and marry I never will; but were it in my power, or in
+accordance with my wish, to unite my fate for ever with another's, it
+should at least be with one to whom I could look up with reverence,
+and even with admiration. He should be at least a man, and a great
+man; one with whose name the world rung; perhaps, like my father, a
+genius and a poet.'
+
+'A genius and a poet!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, in a fury, stamping
+with passion; 'are these fit terms to use when speaking of the most
+abandoned profligate of his age? A man whose name is synonymous with
+infamy, and which no one dares to breathe in civilised life; whose
+very blood is pollution, as you will some day feel; who has violated
+every tie, and derided every principle, by which society is
+maintained; whose life is a living illustration of his own shameless
+doctrines; who is, at the same time, a traitor to his king and an
+apostate from his God!'
+
+Curiosity, overpowering even indignation, had permitted Venetia to
+listen even to this tirade. Pale as her companion, but with a glance
+of withering scorn, she exclaimed, 'Passionate and ill-mannered boy!
+words cannot express the disgust and the contempt with which you
+inspire me.' She spoke and she disappeared. Cadurcis was neither able
+nor desirous to arrest her flight. He remained rooted to the ground,
+muttering to himself the word 'boy!' Suddenly raising his arm and
+looking up to the sky, he exclaimed, 'The illusion is vanished!
+Farewell, Cherbury! farewell, Cadurcis! a wider theatre awaits me! I
+have been too long the slave of soft affections! I root them out of my
+heart for ever!' and, fitting the action to the phrase, it seemed that
+he hurled upon the earth all the tender emotions of his soul. 'Woman!
+henceforth you shall be my sport! I have now no feeling but for
+myself. When she spoke I might have been a boy; I am a boy no longer.
+What I shall do I know not; but this I know, the world shall ring with
+my name; I will be a man, and a great man!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+The agitation of Venetia on her return was not unnoticed by her
+mother; but Lady Annabel ascribed it to a far different cause than the
+real one. She was rather surprised when the breakfast passed, and Lord
+Cadurcis did not appear; somewhat perplexed when her daughter seized
+the earliest opportunity of retiring to her own chamber; but, with
+that self-restraint of which she was so complete a mistress, Lady
+Annabel uttered no remark.
+
+Once more alone, Venetia could only repeat to herself the wild words
+that had burst from Plantagenet's lips in reference to her father.
+What could they mean? His morals might be misrepresented, his opinions
+might be misunderstood; stupidity might not comprehend his doctrines,
+malignity might torture them; the purest sages have been accused
+of immorality, the most pious philosophers have been denounced as
+blasphemous: but, 'a traitor to his king,' that was a tangible, an
+intelligible proposition, one with which all might grapple, which
+could be easily disproved if false, scarcely propounded were it
+not true. 'False to his God!' How false? Where? When? What mystery
+involved her life? Unhappy girl! in vain she struggled with the
+overwhelming burden of her sorrows. Now she regretted that she had
+quarrelled with Cadurcis; it was evident that he knew everything and
+would have told her all. And then she blamed him for his harsh and
+unfeeling demeanour, and his total want of sympathy with her cruel and
+perplexing situation. She had intended, she had struggled to be so
+kind to him; she thought she had such a plain tale to tell that he
+would have listened to it in considerate silence, and bowed to her
+necessary and inevitable decision without a murmur. Amid all these
+harassing emotions her mind tossed about like a ship without a rudder,
+until, in her despair, she almost resolved to confess everything to
+her mother, and to request her to soothe and enlighten her agitated
+and confounded mind. But what hope was there of solace or information
+from such a quarter? Lady Annabel's was not a mind to be diverted from
+her purpose. Whatever might have been the conduct of her husband, it
+was evident that Lady Annabel had traced out a course from which she
+had resolved not to depart. She remembered the earnest and repeated
+advice of Dr. Masham, that virtuous and intelligent man who never
+advised anything but for their benefit. How solemnly had he enjoined
+upon her never to speak to her mother upon the subject, unless she
+wished to produce misery and distress! And what could her mother tell
+her? Her father lived, he had abandoned her, he was looked upon as a
+criminal, and shunned by the society whose laws and prejudices he had
+alike outraged. Why should she revive, amid the comparative happiness
+and serenity in which her mother now lived, the bitter recollection of
+the almost intolerable misfortune of her existence? No! Venetia was
+resolved to be a solitary victim. In spite of her passionate and
+romantic devotion to her father she loved her mother with perfect
+affection, the mother who had dedicated her life to her child, and at
+least hoped she had spared her any share in their common unhappiness.
+And this father, whoso image haunted her dreams, whose unknown voice
+seemed sometimes to float to her quick ear upon the wind, could he be
+that abandoned being that Cadurcis had described, and that all around
+her, and all the circumstances of her life, would seem to indicate?
+Alas! it might be truth; alas! it seemed like truth: and for one so
+lost, so utterly irredeemable, was she to murmur against that pure
+and benevolent parent who had cherished her with such devotion, and
+snatched her perhaps from disgrace, dishonour, and despair!
+
+And Cadurcis, would he return? With all his violence, the kind
+Cadurcis! Never did she need a brother more than now; and now he was
+absent, and she had parted with him in anger, deep, almost deadly:
+she, too, who had never before uttered a harsh word to a human being,
+who had been involved in only one quarrel in her life, and that almost
+unconsciously, and which had nearly broken her heart. She wept,
+bitterly she wept, this poor Venetia!
+
+By one of those mental efforts which her strange lot often forced her
+to practise, Venetia at length composed herself, and returned to the
+room where she believed she would meet her mother, and hoped she
+should see Cadurcis. He was not there: but Lady Annabel was seated as
+calm and busied as usual; the Doctor had departed. Even his presence
+would have proved a relief, however slight, to Venetia, who dreaded at
+this moment to be alone with her mother. She had no cause, however,
+for alarm; Lord Cadurcis never appeared, and was absent even from
+dinner; the day died away, and still he was wanting; and at length
+Venetia bade her usual good night to Lady Annabel, and received
+her usual blessing and embrace without his name having been even
+mentioned.
+
+Venetia passed a disturbed night, haunted by painful dreams, in which
+her father and Cadurcis were both mixed up, and with images of pain,
+confusion, disgrace, and misery; but the morrow, at least, did not
+prolong her suspense, for just as she had joined her mother at
+breakfast, Mistress Pauncefort, who had been despatched on some
+domestic mission by her mistress, entered with a face of wonder,
+and began as usual: 'Only think, my lady; well to be sure, who have
+thought it? I am quite confident, for my own part, I was quite taken
+aback when I heard it; and I could not have believed my ears, if John
+had not told me himself, and he had it from his lordship's own man.'
+
+'Well, Pauncefort, what have you to say?' inquired Lady Annabel, very
+calmly.
+
+'And never to send no note, my lady; at least I have not seen one come
+up. That makes it so very strange.'
+
+'Makes what, Pauncefort?'
+
+'Why, my lady, doesn't your la'ship know his lordship left the abbey
+yesterday, and never said nothing to nobody; rode off without a word,
+by your leave or with your leave? To be sure he always was the oddest
+young gentleman as ever I met with; and, as I said to John: John, says
+I, I hope his lordship has not gone to join the gipsies again.'
+
+Venetia looked into a teacup, and then touched an egg, and then
+twirled a spoon; but Lady Annabel seemed quite imperturbable, and only
+observed, 'Probably his guardian is ill, and he has been suddenly
+summoned to town. I wish you would bring my knitting-needles,
+Pauncefort.'
+
+The autumn passed, and Lord Cadurcis never returned to the abbey,
+and never wrote to any of his late companions. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned his name; and although she seemed to have no other object in
+life but the pleasure and happiness of her child, this strange mother
+never once consulted Venetia on the probable occasion of his sudden
+departure, and his strange conduct.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+Party feeling, perhaps, never ran higher in England than during the
+period immediately subsequent to the expulsion of the Coalition
+Ministry. After the indefatigable faction of the American war, and the
+flagrant union with Lord North, the Whig party, and especially Charles
+Fox, then in the full vigour of his bold and ready mind, were stung to
+the quick that all their remorseless efforts to obtain and preserve
+the government of the country should terminate in the preferment and
+apparent permanent power of a mere boy.
+
+Next to Charles Fox, perhaps the most eminent and influential member
+of the Whig party was Lady Monteagle. The daughter of one of the
+oldest and most powerful peers in the kingdom, possessing lively
+talents and many fascinating accomplishments, the mistress of a great
+establishment, very beautiful, and, although she had been married
+some years, still young, the celebrated wife of Lord Monteagle found
+herself the centre of a circle alike powerful, brilliant, and refined.
+She was the Muse of the Whig party, at whose shrine every man of wit
+and fashion was proud to offer his flattering incense; and her house
+became not merely the favourite scene of their social pleasures, but
+the sacred, temple of their political rites; here many a manoeuvre was
+planned, and many a scheme suggested; many a convert enrolled, and
+many a votary initiated.
+
+Reclining on a couch in a boudoir, which she was assured was the exact
+facsimile of that of Marie Antoinette, Lady Monteagle, with an eye
+sparkling with excitement and a cheek flushed with emotion, appeared
+deeply interested in a volume, from which she raised her hand as her
+husband entered the room.
+
+'Gertrude, my love,' said his lordship, 'I have asked the new bishop
+to dine with us to-day.'
+
+'My dear Henry,' replied her ladyship, 'what could induce you to do
+anything so strange?'
+
+'I suppose I have made a mistake, as usual,' said his lordship,
+shrugging his shoulders, with a smile.
+
+'My dear Henry, you know you may ask whomever you like to your house.
+I never find fault with what you do. But what could induce you to ask
+a Tory bishop to meet a dozen of our own people?'
+
+'I thought I had done wrong directly I had asked him,' rejoined his
+lordship; 'and yet he would not have come if I had not made such a
+point of it. I think I will put him off.'
+
+'No, my love, that would be wrong; you cannot do that.'
+
+'I cannot think how it came into my head. The fact is, I lost my
+presence of mind. You know he was my tutor at Christchurch, when poor
+dear Herbert and I were such friends, and very kind he was to us both;
+and so, the moment I saw him, I walked across the House, introduced
+myself, and asked him to dinner.'
+
+'Well, never mind,' said Lady Monteagle, smiling. 'It is rather
+ridiculous: but I hope nothing will be said to offend him.'
+
+'Oh! do not be alarmed about that: he is quite a man of the world,
+and, although he has his opinions, not at all a partisan. I assure you
+poor dear Herbert loved him to the last, and to this very moment has
+the greatest respect and affection for him.'
+
+'How very strange that not only your tutor, but Herbert's, should be a
+bishop,' remarked the lady, smiling.
+
+'It is very strange,' said his lordship, 'and it only shows that it is
+quite useless in this world to lay plans, or reckon on anything. You
+know how it happened?'
+
+'Not I, indeed; I have never given a thought to the business; I only
+remember being very vexed that that stupid old Bangerford should not
+have died when we were in office, and then, at any rate, we should
+have got another vote.'
+
+'Well, you know,' said his lordship, 'dear old Masham, that is his
+name, was at Weymouth this year; with whom do you think, of all people
+in the world?'
+
+'How should I know? Why should I think about it, Henry?'
+
+'Why, with Herbert's wife.'
+
+'What, that horrid woman?'
+
+'Yes, Lady Annabel.'
+
+'And where was his daughter? Was she there?'
+
+'Of course. She has grown up, and a most beautiful creature they say
+she is; exactly like her father.'
+
+'Ah! I shall always regret I never saw him,' said her ladyship.
+
+'Well, the daughter is in bad health; and so, after keeping her shut
+up all her life, the mother was obliged to take her to Weymouth; and
+Masham, who has a living in their neighbourhood, which, by-the-bye,
+Herbert gave him, and is their chaplain and counsellor, and friend of
+the family, and all that sort of thing, though I really believe he has
+always acted for the best, he was with them. Well, the King took the
+greatest fancy to these Herberts; and the Queen, too, quite singled
+them out; and, in short, they were always with the royal family. It
+ended by his Majesty making Masham his chaplain; and now he has made
+him a bishop.'
+
+'Very droll indeed,' said her ladyship; 'and the drollest thing of all
+is, that he is now coming to dine here.'
+
+'Have you seen Cadurcis to-day?' said Lord Monteagle.
+
+'Of course,' said her ladyship.
+
+'He dines here?'
+
+'To be sure. I am reading his new poem; it will not be published till
+to-morrow.'
+
+'Is it good?'
+
+'Good! What crude questions you do always ask, Henry!' exclaimed Lady
+Monteagle. 'Good! Of course it is good. It is something better than
+good.'
+
+'But I mean is it as good as his other things? Will it make as much
+noise as his last thing?'
+
+'Thing! Now, Henry, you know very well that if there be anything I
+dislike in the world, it is calling a poem a thing.'
+
+'Well, my dear, you know I am no judge of poetry. But if you are
+pleased, I am quite content. There is a knock. Some of your friends.
+I am off. I say, Gertrude, be kind to old Masham, that is a dear
+creature!'
+
+Her ladyship extended her hand, to which his lordship pressed his
+lips, and just effected his escape as the servant announced a visitor,
+in the person of Mr. Horace Pole.
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole, I am quite exhausted,' said her ladyship; 'I am
+reading Cadurcis' new poem; it will not he published till to-morrow,
+and it really has destroyed my nerves. I have got people to dinner
+to-day, and I am sure I shall not be able to encounter them.'
+
+'Something outrageous, I suppose,' said Mr. Pole, with a sneer. 'I
+wish Cadurcis would study Pope.'
+
+'Study Pope! My dear Mr. Pole, you have no imagination.'
+
+'No, I have not, thank Heaven!' drawled out Mr. Pole.
+
+'Well, do not let us have a quarrel about Cadurcis,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'All you men are jealous of him.'
+
+'And some of you women, I think, too,' said Mr. Pole.
+
+Lady Monteagle faintly smiled.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' she exclaimed; 'he has a very hard life of it. He
+complains bitterly that so many women are in love with him. But then
+he is such an interesting creature, what can he expect?'
+
+'Interesting!' exclaimed Mr. Pole. 'Now I hold he is the most
+conceited, affected fellow that I ever met,' he continued with unusual
+energy.
+
+'Ah! you men do not understand him,' said Lady Monteagle, shaking her
+head. 'You cannot,' she added, with a look of pity.
+
+'I cannot, certainly,' said Mr. Pole, 'or his writings either. For my
+part I think the town has gone mad.'
+
+'Well, you must confess,' said her ladyship, with a glance of triumph,
+'that it was very lucky for us that I made him a Whig.'
+
+'I cannot agree with you at all on that head,' said Mr. Pole. 'We
+certainly are not very popular at this moment, and I feel convinced
+that a connection with a person who attracts so much notice as
+Cadurcis unfortunately does, and whose opinions on morals and religion
+must be so offensive to the vast majority of the English public, must
+ultimately prove anything but advantageous to our party.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Mr. Pole,' said her ladyship, in a tone of affected
+deprecation, 'think what a genius he is!'
+
+'We have very different ideas of genius, Lady Monteagle, I suspect,'
+said her visitor.
+
+'You cannot deny,' replied her ladyship, rising from her recumbent
+posture, with some animation, 'that he is a poet?'
+
+'It is difficult to decide upon our contemporaries,' said Mr. Pole
+dryly.
+
+'Charles Fox thinks he is the greatest poet that ever existed,' said
+her ladyship, as if she were determined to settle the question.
+
+'Because he has written a lampoon on the royal family,' rejoined Mr.
+Pole.
+
+'You are a very provoking person,' said Lady Monteagle; 'but you do
+not provoke me; do not flatter yourself you do.'
+
+'That I feel to be an achievement alike beyond my power and my
+ambition,' replied Mr. Pole, slightly bowing, but with a sneer.
+
+'Well, read this,' said Lady Monteagle, 'and then decide upon the
+merits of Cadurcis.'
+
+Mr. Pole took the extended volume, but with no great willingness, and
+turned over a page or two and read a passage here and there.
+
+'Much the same as his last effusion, I think' he observed, as far as
+I can judge from so cursory a review. Exaggerated passion, bombastic
+language, egotism to excess, and, which perhaps is the only portion
+that is genuine, mixed with common-place scepticism and impossible
+morals, and a sort of vague, dreamy philosophy, which, if it mean
+anything, means atheism, borrowed from his idol, Herbert, and which he
+himself evidently does not comprehend.'
+
+'Monster!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, with a mock assumption of
+indignation, 'and you are going to dine with him here to-day. You do
+not deserve it.'
+
+'It is a reward which is unfortunately too often obtained by me,'
+replied Mr. Pole. 'One of the most annoying consequences of your
+friend's popularity, Lady Monteagle, is that there is not a dinner
+party where one can escape him. I met him yesterday at Fanshawe's. He
+amused himself by eating only biscuits, and calling for soda water,
+while we quaffed our Burgundy. How very original! What a thing it is
+to be a great poet!'
+
+'Perverse, provoking mortal!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'And on what
+should a poet live? On coarse food, like you coarse mortals? Cadurcis
+is all spirit, and in my opinion his diet only makes him more
+interesting.'
+
+'I understand,' said Mr. Pole, 'that he cannot endure a woman to eat
+at all. But you are all spirit, Lady Monteagle, and therefore of
+course are not in the least inconvenienced. By-the-bye, do you mean to
+give us any of those charming little suppers this season?'
+
+'I shall not invite you,' replied her ladyship; 'none but admirers of
+Lord Cadurcis enter this house.'
+
+'Your menace effects my instant conversion,' replied Mr. Pole. 'I will
+admire him as much as you desire, only do not insist upon my reading
+his works.'
+
+'I have not the slightest doubt you know them by heart,' rejoined her
+ladyship.
+
+Mr. Pole smiled, bowed, and disappeared; and Lady Monteagle sat down
+to write a billet to Lord Cadurcis, to entreat him to be with her at
+five o'clock, which was at least half an hour before the other guests
+were expected. The Monteagles were considered to dine ridiculously
+late.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Marmion Herbert, sprung from one of the most illustrious families in
+England, became at an early age the inheritor of a great estate, to
+which, however, he did not succeed with the prejudices or opinions
+usually imbibed or professed by the class to which he belonged. While
+yet a boy, Marmion Herbert afforded many indications of possessing a
+mind alike visionary and inquisitive, and both, although not in an
+equal degree, sceptical and creative. Nature had gifted him with
+precocious talents; and with a temperament essentially poetic, he
+was nevertheless a great student. His early reading, originally by
+accident and afterwards by an irresistible inclination, had fallen
+among the works of the English freethinkers: with all their errors,
+a profound and vigorous race, and much superior to the French
+philosophers, who were after all only their pupils and their
+imitators. While his juvenile studies, and in some degree the
+predisposition of his mind, had thus prepared him to doubt and finally
+to challenge the propriety of all that was established and received,
+the poetical and stronger bias of his mind enabled him quickly to
+supply the place of everything he would remove and destroy; and, far
+from being the victim of those frigid and indifferent feelings
+which must ever be the portion of the mere doubter, Herbert, on the
+contrary, looked forward with ardent and sanguine enthusiasm to a
+glorious and ameliorating future, which should amply compensate and
+console a misguided and unhappy race for the miserable past and
+the painful and dreary present. To those, therefore, who could not
+sympathise with his views, it will be seen that Herbert, in attempting
+to fulfil them, became not merely passively noxious from his example,
+but actively mischievous from his exertions. A mere sceptic, he would
+have been perhaps merely pitied; a sceptic with a peculiar faith of
+his own, which he was resolved to promulgate, Herbert became odious. A
+solitary votary of obnoxious opinions, Herbert would have been looked
+upon only as a madman; but the moment he attempted to make proselytes
+he rose into a conspirator against society.
+
+Young, irresistibly prepossessing in his appearance, with great
+eloquence, crude but considerable knowledge, an ardent imagination
+and a subtle mind, and a generous and passionate soul, under any
+circumstances he must have obtained and exercised influence, even if
+his Creator had not also bestowed upon him a spirit of indomitable
+courage; but these great gifts of nature being combined with accidents
+of fortune scarcely less qualified to move mankind, high rank, vast
+wealth, and a name of traditionary glory, it will not be esteemed
+surprising that Marmion Herbert, at an early period, should have
+attracted around him many enthusiastic disciples.
+
+At Christchurch, whither he repaired at an unusually early age,
+his tutor was Doctor Masham; and the profound respect and singular
+affection with which that able, learned, and amiable man early
+inspired his pupil, for a time controlled the spirit of Herbert; or
+rather confined its workings to so limited a sphere that the results
+were neither dangerous to society nor himself. Perfectly comprehending
+and appreciating the genius of the youth entrusted to his charge,
+deeply interested in his spiritual as well as worldly welfare, and
+strongly impressed with the importance of enlisting his pupil's
+energies in favour of that existing order, both moral and religious,
+in the truth and indispensableness of which he was a sincere believer,
+Doctor Masham omitted no opportunity of combating the heresies of the
+young inquirer; and as the tutor, equally by talent, experience, and
+learning, was a competent champion of the great cause to which he was
+devoted, his zeal and ability for a time checked the development of
+those opinions of which he witnessed the menacing influence over
+Herbert with so much fear and anxiety. The college life of Marmion
+Herbert, therefore, passed in ceaseless controversy with his tutor;
+and as he possessed, among many other noble qualities, a high and
+philosophic sense of justice, he did not consider himself authorised,
+while a doubt remained on his own mind, actively to promulgate those
+opinions, of the propriety and necessity of which he scarcely ever
+ceased to be persuaded. To this cause it must be mainly attributed
+that Herbert was not expelled the university; for had he pursued there
+the course of which his cruder career at Eton had given promise, there
+can be little doubt that some flagrant outrage of the opinions held
+sacred in that great seat of orthodoxy would have quickly removed him
+from the salutary sphere of their control.
+
+Herbert quitted Oxford in his nineteenth year, yet inferior to
+few that he left there, even among the most eminent, in classical
+attainments, and with a mind naturally profound, practised in all the
+arts of ratiocination. His general knowledge also was considerable,
+and he was a proficient in those scientific pursuits which were then
+rare. Notwithstanding his great fortune and position, his departure
+from the university was not a signal with him for that abandonment to
+the world, and that unbounded self-enjoyment naturally so tempting to
+youth. On the contrary, Herbert shut himself up in his magnificent
+castle, devoted to solitude and study. In his splendid library he
+consulted the sages of antiquity, and conferred with them on the
+nature of existence and of the social duties; while in his laboratory
+or his dissecting-room he occasionally flattered himself he might
+discover the great secret which had perplexed generations. The
+consequence of a year passed in this severe discipline was
+unfortunately a complete recurrence to those opinions that he had
+early imbibed, and which now seemed fixed in his conviction beyond the
+hope or chance of again faltering. In politics a violent republican,
+and an advocate, certainly a disinterested one, of a complete equality
+of property and conditions, utterly objecting to the very foundation
+of our moral system, and especially a strenuous antagonist of
+marriage, which he taught himself to esteem not only as an unnatural
+tie, but as eminently unjust towards that softer sex, who had been
+so long the victims of man; discarding as a mockery the received
+revelation of the divine will; and, if no longer an atheist,
+substituting merely for such an outrageous dogma a subtle and shadowy
+Platonism; doctrines, however, which Herbert at least had acquired by
+a profound study of the works of their great founder; the pupil of
+Doctor Masham at length deemed himself qualified to enter that world
+which he was resolved to regenerate; prepared for persecution, and
+steeled even to martyrdom.
+
+But while the doctrines of the philosopher had been forming, the
+spirit of the poet had not been inactive. Loneliness, after all, the
+best of Muses, had stimulated the creative faculty of his being.
+Wandering amid his solitary woods and glades at all hours and seasons,
+the wild and beautiful apparitions of nature had appealed to a
+sympathetic soul. The stars and winds, the pensive sunset and the
+sanguine break of morn, the sweet solemnity of night, the ancient
+trees and the light and evanescent flowers, all signs and sights and
+sounds of loveliness and power, fell on a ready eye and a responsive
+ear. Gazing on the beautiful, he longed to create it. Then it was that
+the two passions which seemed to share the being of Herbert appeared
+simultaneously to assert their sway, and he resolved to call in his
+Muse to the assistance of his Philosophy.
+
+Herbert celebrated that fond world of his imagination, which he wished
+to teach men to love. In stanzas glittering with refined images, and
+resonant with subtle symphony, he called into creation that society of
+immaculate purity and unbounded enjoyment which he believed was the
+natural inheritance of unshackled man. In the hero he pictured a
+philosopher, young and gifted as himself; in the heroine, his idea of
+a perfect woman. Although all those peculiar doctrines of Herbert,
+which, undisguised, must have excited so much odium, were more or
+less developed and inculcated in this work; nevertheless they were
+necessarily so veiled by the highly spiritual and metaphorical
+language of the poet, that it required some previous acquaintance with
+the system enforced, to be able to detect and recognise the esoteric
+spirit of his Muse. The public read only the history of an ideal world
+and of creatures of exquisite beauty, told in language that alike
+dazzled their fancy and captivated their ear. They were lost in a
+delicious maze of metaphor and music, and were proud to acknowledge
+an addition to the glorious catalogue of their poets in a young and
+interesting member of their aristocracy.
+
+In the meanwhile Herbert entered that great world that had long
+expected him, and hailed his advent with triumph. How long might have
+elapsed before they were roused by the conduct of Herbert to the
+error under which they were labouring as to his character, it is
+not difficult to conjecture; but before he could commence those
+philanthropic exertions which apparently absorbed him, he encountered
+an individual who most unconsciously put his philosophy not merely to
+the test, but partially even to the rout; and this was Lady Annabel
+Sidney. Almost as new to the world as himself, and not less admired,
+her unrivalled beauty, her unusual accomplishments, and her pure and
+dignified mind, combined, it must be confessed, with the flattering
+admiration of his genius, entirely captivated the philosophical
+antagonist of marriage. It is not surprising that Marmion Herbert,
+scarcely of age, and with a heart of extreme susceptibility, resolved,
+after a struggle, to be the first exception to his system, and, as he
+faintly flattered himself, the last victim of prejudice. He wooed and
+won the Lady Annabel.
+
+The marriage ceremony was performed by Doctor Masham, who had read his
+pupil's poem, and had been a little frightened by its indications; but
+this happy union had dissipated all his fears. He would not believe in
+any other than a future career for him alike honourable and happy; and
+he trusted that if any wild thoughts still lingered in Herbert's mind,
+that they would clear off by the same literary process; so that
+the utmost ill consequences of his immature opinions might be an
+occasional line that the wise would have liked to blot, and yet which
+the unlettered might scarcely be competent to comprehend. Mr. and Lady
+Annabel Herbert departed after the ceremony to his castle, and Doctor
+Masham to Marringhurst, a valuable living in another county, to which
+his pupil had just presented him.
+
+Some months after this memorable event, rumours reached the ear of the
+good Doctor that all was not as satisfactory as he could desire in
+that establishment, in the welfare of which he naturally took so
+lively an interest. Herbert was in the habit of corresponding with the
+rector of Marringhurst, and his first letters were full of details as
+to his happy life and his perfect consent; but gradually these details
+had been considerably abridged, and the correspondence assumed chiefly
+a literary or philosophical character. Lady Annabel, however, was
+always mentioned with regard, and an intimation had been duly given
+to the Doctor that she was in a delicate and promising situation, and
+that they were both alike anxious that he should christen their child.
+It did not seem very surprising to the good Doctor, who was a man of
+the world, that a husband, six months after marriage, should not
+speak of the memorable event with all the fulness and fondness of
+the honeymoon; and, being one of those happy tempers that always
+anticipate the best, he dismissed from his mind, as vain gossip and
+idle exaggerations, the ominous whispers that occasionally reached
+him.
+
+Immediately after the Christmas ensuing his marriage, the Herberts
+returned to London, and the Doctor, who happened to be a short time
+in the metropolis, paid them a visit. His observations were far from
+unsatisfactory; it was certainly too evident that Marmion was no
+longer enamoured of Lady Annabel, but he treated her apparently with
+courtesy, and even cordiality. The presence of Dr. Masham tended,
+perhaps, a little to revive old feelings, for he was as much a
+favourite with the wife as with the husband; but, on the whole,
+the Doctor quitted them with an easy heart, and sanguine that the
+interesting and impending event would, in all probability, revive
+affection on the part of Herbert, or at least afford Lady Annabel the
+only substitute for a husband's heart.
+
+In due time the Doctor heard from Herbert that his wife had gone
+down into the country, but was sorry to observe that Herbert did not
+accompany her. Even this disagreeable impression was removed by a
+letter, shortly after received from Herbert, dated from the castle,
+and written in high spirits, informing him that Annabel had made him
+the happy father of the most beautiful little girl in the world.
+During the ensuing three months Mr. Herbert, though he resumed his
+residence in London, paid frequent visits to the castle, where Lady
+Annabel remained; and his occasional correspondence, though couched
+in a careless vein, still on the whole indicated a cheerful spirit;
+though ever and anon were sarcastic observations as to the felicity of
+the married state, which, he said, was an undoubted blessing, as it
+kept a man out of all scrapes, though unfortunately under the penalty
+of his total idleness and inutility in life. On the whole, however,
+the reader may judge of the astonishment of Doctor Masham when, in
+common with the world, very shortly after the receipt of this letter,
+Mr. Herbert having previously proceeded to London, and awaiting, as
+was said, the daily arrival of his wife and child, his former tutor
+learned that Lady Annabel, accompanied only by Pauncefort and Venetia,
+had sought her father's roof, declaring that circumstances had
+occurred which rendered it quite impossible that she could live with
+Mr. Herbert any longer, and entreating his succour and parental
+protection.
+
+Never was such a hubbub in the world! In vain Herbert claimed his
+wife, and expressed his astonishment, declaring that he had parted
+from her with the expression of perfect kind feeling on both sides.
+No answer was given to his letter, and no explanation of any kind
+conceded him. The world universally declared Lady Annabel an injured
+woman, and trusted that she would eventually have the good sense and
+kindness to gratify them by revealing the mystery; while Herbert,
+on the contrary, was universally abused and shunned, avoided by his
+acquaintances, and denounced as the most depraved of men.
+
+In this extraordinary state of affairs Herbert acted in a manner
+the best calculated to secure his happiness, and the very worst to
+preserve his character. Having ostentatiously shown himself in every
+public place, and courted notice and inquiry by every means in his
+power, to prove that he was not anxious to conceal himself or avoid
+any inquiry, he left the country, free at last to pursue that career
+to which he had always aspired, and in which he had been checked by
+a blunder, from the consequences of which he little expected that
+he should so speedily and strangely emancipate himself. It was in a
+beautiful villa on the lake of Geneva that he finally established
+himself, and there for many years he employed himself in the
+publication of a series of works which, whether they were poetry or
+prose, imaginative or investigative, all tended to the same consistent
+purpose, namely, the fearless and unqualified promulgation of those
+opinions, on the adoption of which he sincerely believed the happiness
+of mankind depended; and the opposite principles to which, in his own
+case, had been productive of so much mortification and misery.
+His works, which were published in England, were little read, and
+universally decried. The critics were always hard at work, proving
+that he was no poet, and demonstrating in the most logical manner
+that he was quite incapable of reasoning on the commonest topic. In
+addition to all this, his ignorance was self-evident; and though he
+was very fond of quoting Greek, they doubted whether he was capable of
+reading the original authors. The general impression of the English
+public, after the lapse of some years, was, that Herbert was an
+abandoned being, of profligate habits, opposed to all the institutions
+of society that kept his infamy in check, and an avowed atheist; and
+as scarcely any one but a sympathetic spirit ever read a line he
+wrote, for indeed the very sight of his works was pollution, it is not
+very wonderful that this opinion was so generally prevalent. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have suspected that abandoned profligacy is
+not very compatible with severe study, and that an author is seldom
+loose in his life, even if he be licentious in his writings. A calm
+inquirer might, perhaps, have been of opinion that a solitary sage
+may be the antagonist of a priesthood without absolutely denying the
+existence of a God; but there never are calm inquirers. The world, on
+every subject, however unequally, is divided into parties; and even in
+the case of Herbert and his writings, those who admired his genius,
+and the generosity of his soul, were not content without advocating,
+principally out of pique to his adversaries, his extreme opinions on
+every subject, moral, political, and religious.
+
+Besides, it must be confessed, there was another circumstance which
+was almost as fatal to Herbert's character in England as his loose and
+heretical opinions. The travelling English, during their visits to
+Geneva, found out that their countryman solaced or enlivened his
+solitude by unhallowed ties. It is a habit to which very young men,
+who are separated from or deserted by their wives, occasionally have
+recourse. Wrong, no doubt, as most things are, but it is to be hoped
+venial; at least in the case of any man who is not also an atheist.
+This unfortunate mistress of Herbert was magnified into a seraglio;
+the most extraordinary tales of the voluptuous life of one who
+generally at his studies out-watched the stars, were rife in English
+society; and
+
+  Hoary marquises and stripling dukes,
+
+who were either protecting opera dancers, or, still worse, making
+love to their neighbours' wives, either looked grave when the name of
+Herbert was mentioned in female society, or affectedly confused, as if
+they could a tale unfold, were they not convinced that the sense of
+propriety among all present was infinitely superior to their sense of
+curiosity.
+
+The only person to whom Herbert communicated in England was Doctor
+Masham. He wrote to him immediately on his establishment at Geneva, in
+a calm yet sincere and serious tone, as if it were useless to dwell
+too fully on the past. Yet he declared, although now that it was all
+over he avowed his joy at the interposition of his destiny, and the
+opportunity which he at length possessed of pursuing the career for
+which he was adapted, that he had to his knowledge given his wife
+no cause of offence which could authorise her conduct. As for his
+daughter, he said he should not be so cruel as to tear her from
+her mother's breast; though, if anything could induce him to such
+behaviour, it would be the malignant and ungenerous menace of his
+wife's relatives, that they would oppose his preferred claim to
+the guardianship of his child, on the plea of his immoral life and
+atheistical opinions. With reference to pecuniary arrangements, as
+his chief seat was entailed on male heirs, he proposed that his wife
+should take up her abode at Cherbury, an estate which had been settled
+on her and her children at her marriage, and which, therefore, would
+descend to Venetia. Finally, he expressed his satisfaction that the
+neighbourhood of Marringhurst would permit his good and still faithful
+friend to cultivate the society and guard over the welfare of his wife
+and daughter.
+
+During the first ten years of Herbert's exile, for such indeed it
+might be considered, the Doctor maintained with him a rare yet regular
+correspondence; but after that time a public event occurred, and
+a revolution took place in Herbert's life which terminated all
+communication between them; a termination occasioned, however, by such
+a simultaneous conviction of its absolute necessity, that it was not
+attended by any of those painful communications which are too often
+the harrowing forerunners of a formal disruption of ancient ties.
+
+This event was the revolt of the American colonies; and this
+revolution in Herbert's career, his junction with the rebels against
+his native country. Doubtless it was not without a struggle, perhaps
+a pang, that Herbert resolved upon a line of conduct to which it
+must assuredly have required the strongest throb of his cosmopolitan
+sympathy, and his amplest definition of philanthropy to have impelled
+him. But without any vindictive feelings towards England, for he ever
+professed and exercised charity towards his enemies, attributing their
+conduct entirely to their ignorance and prejudice, upon this step he
+nevertheless felt it his duty to decide. There seemed in the opening
+prospects of America, in a world still new, which had borrowed from
+the old as it were only so much civilisation as was necessary to
+create and to maintain order; there seemed in the circumstances of its
+boundless territory, and the total absence of feudal institutions and
+prejudices, so fair a field for the practical introduction of those
+regenerating principles to which Herbert had devoted all the thought
+and labour of his life, that he resolved, after long and perhaps
+painful meditation, to sacrifice every feeling and future interest to
+its fulfilment. All idea of ever returning to his native country, even
+were it only to mix his ashes with the generations of his ancestors;
+all hope of reconciliation with his wife, or of pressing to his
+heart that daughter, often present to his tender fancy, and to whose
+affections he had feelingly appealed in an outburst of passionate
+poetry; all these chances, chances which, in spite of his philosophy,
+had yet a lingering charm, must be discarded for ever. They were
+discarded. Assigning his estate to his heir upon conditions, in order
+to prevent its forfeiture, with such resources as he could command,
+and which were considerable, Marmion Herbert arrived at Boston, where
+his rank, his wealth, his distinguished name, his great talents, and
+his undoubted zeal for the cause of liberty, procured him an eminent
+and gratifying reception. He offered to raise a regiment for the
+republic, and the offer was accepted, and he was enrolled among the
+citizens. All this occurred about the time that the Cadurcis family
+first settled at the abbey, and this narrative will probably throw
+light upon several slight incidents which heretofore may have
+attracted the perplexed attention of the reader: such as the newspaper
+brought by Dr. Masham at the Christmas visit; the tears shed at a
+subsequent period at Marringhurst, when he related to her the last
+intelligence that had been received from America. For, indeed, it is
+impossible to express the misery and mortification which this last
+conduct of her husband occasioned Lady Annabel, brought up, as she had
+been, with feelings of romantic loyalty and unswerving patriotism.
+To be a traitor seemed the only blot that remained for his sullied
+scutcheon, and she had never dreamed of that. An infidel, a
+profligate, a deserter from his home, an apostate from his God! one
+infamy alone remained, and now he had attained it; a traitor to his
+king! Why, every peasant would despise him!
+
+General Herbert, however, for such he speedily became, at the head of
+his division, soon arrested the attention, and commanded the respect,
+of Europe. To his exertions the successful result of the struggle
+was, in a great measure, attributed; and he received the thanks of
+Congress, of which he became a member. His military and political
+reputation exercised a beneficial influence upon his literary fame.
+His works were reprinted in America, and translated into French,
+and published at Geneva and Basle, whence they were surreptitiously
+introduced into France. The Whigs, who had become very factious, and
+nearly revolutionary, during the American war, suddenly became proud
+of their countryman, whom a new world hailed as a deliverer, and
+Paris declared to be a great poet and an illustrious philosopher. His
+writings became fashionable, especially among the young; numerous
+editions of them appeared, and in time it was discovered that Herbert
+was now not only openly read, and enthusiastically admired, but had
+founded a school.
+
+The struggle with America ceased about the time of Lord Cadurcis' last
+visit to Cherbury, when, from his indignant lips, Venetia first learnt
+the enormities of her father's career. Since that period some three
+years had elapsed until we introduced our readers to the boudoir
+of Lady Monteagle. During this period, among the Whigs and their
+partisans the literary fame of Herbert had arisen and become
+established. How they have passed in regard to Lady Annabel Herbert
+and her daughter, on the one hand, and Lord Cadurcis himself on the
+other, we will endeavour to ascertain in the following chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+From the last departure of Lord Cadurcis from Cherbury, the health of
+Venetia again declined. The truth is, she brooded in solitude over her
+strange lot, until her nerves became relaxed by intense reverie and
+suppressed feeling. The attention of a mother so wrapt up in her child
+as Lady Annabel, was soon attracted to the increasing languor of
+our heroine, whose eye each day seemed to grow less bright, and her
+graceful form less lithe and active. No longer, fond of the sun and
+breeze as a beautiful bird, was Venetia seen, as heretofore, glancing
+in the garden, or bounding over the lawns; too often might she be
+found reclining on the couch, in spite of all the temptations of the
+spring; while her temper, once so singularly sweet that it seemed
+there was not in the world a word that could ruffle it, and which
+required so keenly and responded so quickly to sympathy, became
+reserved, if not absolutely sullen, or at times even captious and
+fretful.
+
+This change in the appearance and demeanour of her daughter filled
+Lady Annabel with anxiety and alarm. In vain she expressed to Venetia
+her conviction of her indisposition; but Venetia, though her altered
+habits confirmed the suspicion, and authorised the inquiry of her
+parent, persisted ever in asserting that she had no ailment. Her old
+medical attendant was, however, consulted, and, being perplexed with
+the case, he recommended change of air. Lady Annabel then consulted
+Dr. Masham, and he gave his opinion in favour of change of air for one
+reason: and that was, that it would bring with it what he had long
+considered Venetia to stand in need of, and that was change of life.
+
+Dr. Masham was right; but then, to guide him in forming his judgment,
+he had the advantage of some psychological knowledge of the case,
+which, in a greet degree, was a sealed book to the poor puzzled
+physician. We laugh very often at the errors of medical men; but if
+we would only, when we consult them, have strength of mind enough to
+extend to them something better than a half-confidence, we might be
+cured the sooner. How often, when the unhappy disciple of Esculapius
+is perplexing himself about the state of our bodies, we might throw
+light upon his obscure labours by simply detailing to him the state of
+our minds!
+
+The result of these consultations in the Herbert family was a final
+resolution, on the part of Lady Annabel, to quit Cherbury for a while.
+As the sea air was especially recommended to Venetia, and as Lady
+Annabel shrank with a morbid apprehension from society, to which
+nothing could persuade her she was not an object either of odium or
+impertinent curiosity, she finally resolved to visit Weymouth, then a
+small and secluded watering-place, and whither she arrived and settled
+herself, it not being even the season when its few customary visitors
+were in the habit of gathering.
+
+This residence at Weymouth quite repaid Lady Annabel for all the
+trouble of her new settlement, and for the change in her life very
+painful to her confirmed habits, which she experienced in leaving for
+the first time for such a long series of years, her old hall; for the
+rose returned to the cheek of her daughter, and the western breezes,
+joined with the influence of the new objects that surrounded her, and
+especially of that ocean, and its strange and inexhaustible variety,
+on which she gazed for the first time, gradually, but surely,
+completed the restoration of Venetia to health, and with it to much of
+her old vivacity.
+
+When Lady Annabel had resided about a year at Weymouth, in the society
+of which she had invariably made the indisposition of Venetia a reason
+for not entering, a great revolution suddenly occurred at this little
+quiet watering-place, for it was fixed upon as the summer residence of
+the English court. The celebrated name, the distinguished appearance,
+and the secluded habits of Lady Annabel and her daughter, had rendered
+them the objects of general interest. Occasionally they were met in a
+seaside walk by some fellow-wanderer over the sands, or toiler over
+the shingles; and romantic reports of the dignity of the mother and
+the daughter's beauty were repeated by the fortunate observers to the
+lounging circle of the public library or the baths.
+
+The moment that Lady Annabel was assured that the royal family had
+positively fixed upon Weymouth for their residence, and were even
+daily expected, she resolved instantly to retire. Her stern sense of
+duty assured her that it was neither delicate nor loyal to obtrude
+before the presence of an outraged monarch the wife and daughter of a
+traitor; her haughty, though wounded, spirit shrank from the revival
+of her husband's history, which must be the consequence of such a
+conjunction, and from the startling and painful remarks which might
+reach the shrouded ear of her daughter. With her characteristic
+decision, and with her usual stern volition, Lady Annabel quitted
+Weymouth instantly, but she was in some degree consoled for the regret
+and apprehensiveness which she felt at thus leaving a place that had
+otherwise so happily fulfilled all her hopes and wishes, and that
+seemed to agree so entirely with Venetia, by finding unexpectedly
+a marine villa, some few miles further up the coast, which was
+untenanted, and which offered to Lady Annabel all the accommodation
+she could desire.
+
+It so happened this summer that Dr. Masham paid the Herberts a visit,
+and it was his habit occasionally to ride into Weymouth to read the
+newspaper, or pass an hour in that easy lounging chat, which is,
+perhaps, one of the principal diversions of a watering-place. A great
+dignitary of the church, who was about the King, and to whom Dr.
+Masham was known not merely by reputation, mentioned his presence to
+his Majesty; and the King, who was fond of the society of eminent
+divines, desired that Dr. Masham should be presented to him. Now, so
+favourable was the impression that the rector of Marringhurst made
+upon his sovereign, that from that moment the King was scarcely ever
+content unless he was in attendance. His Majesty, who was happy in
+asking questions, and much too acute to be baffled when he sought
+information, finally elicited from the Doctor all that, in order to
+please Lady Annabel, he long struggled to conceal; but when the King
+found that the deserted wife and daughter of Herbert were really
+living in the neighbourhood, and that they had quitted Weymouth on his
+arrival, from a feeling of delicate loyalty, nothing would satisfy the
+kind-hearted monarch but personally assuring them of the interest he
+took in their welfare; and accordingly, the next day, without giving
+Lady Annabel even the preparation of a notice, his Majesty and his
+royal consort, attended only by a lord in waiting, called at the
+marine villa, and fairly introduced themselves.
+
+An acquaintance, occasioned by a sentiment of generous and
+condescending sympathy, was established and strengthened into
+intimacy, by the personal qualities of those thus delicately honoured.
+The King and Queen were equally delighted with the wife and daughter
+of the terrible rebel; and although, of course, not an allusion was
+made to his existence, Lady Annabel felt not the less acutely the
+cause to which she was indebted for a notice so gratifying, but
+which she afterwards ensured by her own merits. How strange are the
+accidents of life! Venetia Herbert, who had been bred up in unbroken
+solitude, and whose converse had been confined to two or three beings,
+suddenly found herself the guest of a king, and the visitor to a
+court! She stepped at once from solitude into the most august circle
+of society; yet, though she had enjoyed none of that initiatory
+experience which is usually held so indispensable to the votaries
+of fashion, her happy nature qualified her to play her part without
+effort and with success. Serene and graceful, she mingled in the
+strange and novel scene, as if it had been for ever her lot to dazzle
+and to charm. Ere the royal family returned to London, they extracted
+from Lady Annabel a compliance with their earnest wishes, that
+she should fix her residence, during the ensuing season, in the
+metropolis, and that she should herself present Venetia at St.
+James's. The wishes of kings are commands; and Lady Annabel, who thus
+unexpectedly perceived some of the most painful anticipations of her
+solitude at once dissipated, and that her child, instead of being
+subjected on her entrance into life to all the mortifications she had
+imagined, would, on the contrary, find her first introduction under
+auspices the most flattering and advantageous, bowed a dutiful assent
+to the condescending injunctions.
+
+Such were the memorable consequences of this visit to Weymouth! The
+return of Lady Annabel to the world, and her intended residence in the
+metropolis, while the good Masham preceded their arrival to receive a
+mitre. Strange events, and yet not improbable!
+
+In the meantime Lord Cadurcis had repaired to the university, where
+his rank and his eccentric qualities quickly gathered round him a
+choice circle of intimates, chiefly culled from his old schoolfellows.
+Of these the great majority were his seniors, for whose society
+the maturity of his mind qualified him. It so happened that these
+companions were in general influenced by those liberal opinions which
+had become in vogue during the American war, and from which Lord
+Cadurcis had hitherto been preserved by the society in which he
+had previously mingled in the house of his guardian. With the
+characteristic caprice and impetuosity of youth, Cadurcis rapidly
+and ardently imbibed all these doctrines, captivated alike by their
+boldness and their novelty. Hitherto the child of prejudice, he
+flattered himself that he was now the creature of reason, and,
+determined to take nothing for granted, he soon learned to question
+everything that was received. A friend introduced him to the writings
+of Herbert, that very Herbert whom he had been taught to look upon
+with so much terror and odium. Their perusal operated a complete
+revolution of his mind; and, in little more than a year from his
+flight from Cherbury, he had become an enthusiastic votary of the
+great master, for his violent abuse of whom he had been banished from
+those happy bowers. The courage, the boldness, the eloquence, the
+imagination, the strange and romantic career of Herbert, carried the
+spirit of Cadurcis captive. The sympathetic companions studied his
+works and smiled with scorn at the prejudice of which their great
+model had been the victim, and of which they had been so long the
+dupes. As for Cadurcis, he resolved to emulate him, and he commenced
+his noble rivalship by a systematic neglect of all the duties and
+the studies of his college life. His irregular habits procured him
+constant reprimands in which he gloried; he revenged himself on the
+authorities by writing epigrams, and by keeping a bear, which he
+declared should stand for a fellowship. At length, having wilfully
+outraged the most important regulations, he was expelled; and he
+made his expulsion the subject of a satire equally personal and
+philosophic, and which obtained applause for the great talent which it
+displayed, even from those who lamented its want of judgment and the
+misconduct of its writer. Flushed with success, Cadurcis at length
+found, to his astonishment, that Nature had intended him for a poet.
+He repaired to London, where he was received with open arms by the
+Whigs, whose party he immediately embraced, and where he published a
+poem, in which he painted his own character as the hero, and of which,
+in spite of all the exaggeration and extravagance of youth, the genius
+was undeniable. Society sympathised with a young and a noble poet;
+his poem was read by all parties with enthusiasm; Cadurcis became the
+fashion. To use his own expression, 'One morning he awoke, and found
+himself famous.' Young, singularly handsome, with every gift of nature
+and fortune, and with an inordinate vanity that raged in his soul,
+Cadurcis soon forgot the high philosophy that had for a moment
+attracted him, and delivered himself up to the absorbing egotism which
+had ever been latent in his passionate and ambitious mind. Gifted with
+energies that few have ever equalled, and fooled to the bent by the
+excited sympathies of society, he poured forth his creative and daring
+spirit with a license that conquered all obstacles, from the very
+audacity with which he assailed them. In a word, the young, the
+reserved, and unknown Cadurcis, who, but three years back, was to have
+lived in the domestic solitude for which he alone felt himself fitted,
+filled every heart and glittered in every eye. The men envied, the
+women loved, all admired him. His life was a perpetual triumph; a
+brilliant and applauding stage, on which he ever played a dazzling and
+heroic part. So sudden and so startling had been his apparition, so
+vigorous and unceasing the efforts by which he had maintained his
+first overwhelming impression, and not merely by his writings, but by
+his unusual manners and eccentric life, that no one had yet found time
+to draw his breath, to observe, to inquire, and to criticise. He had
+risen, and still flamed, like a comet as wild as it was beautiful, and
+strange is it was brilliant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+We must now return to the dinner party at Lord Monteagle's. When the
+Bishop of ---- entered the room, he found nearly all the expected
+guests assembled, and was immediately presented by his host to the
+lady of the house, who received him with all that fascinating address
+for which she was celebrated, expressing the extreme delight which she
+felt at thus becoming formally acquainted with one whom her husband
+had long taught her to admire and reverence. Utterly unconscious who
+had just joined the circle, while Lord Monteagle was introducing his
+newly-arrived guest to many present, and to all of whom he was unknown
+except by reputation, Lord Cadurcis was standing apart, apparently
+wrapt in his own thoughts; but the truth is, in spite of all the
+excitement in which he lived, he had difficulty in overcoming the
+natural reserve of his disposition.
+
+'Watch Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole to a fine lady. 'Does not he
+look sublime?'
+
+'Show me him,' said the lady, eagerly. 'I have never seen him yet; I
+am actually dying to know him. You know we have just come to town.'
+
+'And have caught the raging epidemic, I see,' said Mr. Pole, with a
+sneer. 'However, there is the marvellous young gentleman! "Alone in a
+crowd," as he says in his last poem. Very interesting!'
+
+'Wonderful creature!' exclaimed the dame.
+
+'Charming!' said Mr. Pole. 'If you ask Lady Monteagle, she will
+introduce him to you, and then, perhaps, you will be fortunate enough
+to be handed to dinner by him.'
+
+'Oh! how I should like it!'
+
+'You must take care, however, not to eat; he cannot endure a woman who
+eats.'
+
+'I never do,' said the lady, simply; 'at least at dinner.'
+
+'Ah! then you will quite suit him; I dare say he will write a sonnet
+to you, and call you Thyrza.'
+
+'I wish I could get him to write some lines in my book, said the lady;
+'Charles Fox has written some; he was staying with us in the autumn,
+and he has written an ode to my little dog.'
+
+'How amiable!' said Mr. Pole; 'I dare say they are as good as his
+elegy on Mrs. Crewe's cat. But you must not talk of cats and dogs to
+Cadurcis. He is too exalted to commemorate any animal less sublime
+than a tiger or a barb.'
+
+'You forget his beautiful lines on his Newfoundland,' said the lady.
+
+'Very complimentary to us all,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'The interesting
+misanthrope!'
+
+'He looks unhappy.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'Evidently something on his conscience.'
+
+'They do whisper very odd things,' said the lady, with great
+curiosity. 'Do you think there is anything in them?'
+
+'Oh! no doubt,' said Mr. Pole; 'look at him; you can detect crime in
+every glance.'
+
+'Dear me, how shocking! I think he must be the most interesting person
+that ever lived. I should so like to know him! They say he is so very
+odd.'
+
+'Very,' said Mr. Pole. 'He must be a man of genius; he is so unlike
+everybody; the very tie of his cravat proves it. And his hair, so
+savage and dishevelled; none but a man of genius would not wear
+powder. Watch him to-day, and you will observe that he will not
+condescend to perform the slightest act like an ordinary mortal. I
+met him at dinner yesterday at Fanshawe's, and he touched nothing but
+biscuits and soda-water. Fanshawe, you know, is famous for his cook.
+Complimentary and gratifying, was it not?'
+
+'Dear me!' said the lady, 'I am delighted to see him; and yet I hope I
+shall not sit by him at dinner. I am quite afraid of him.'
+
+'He is really awful!' said Mr. Pole.
+
+In the meantime the subject of these observations slowly withdrew to
+the further end of the saloon, apart from every one, and threw himself
+upon a couch with a somewhat discontented air. Lady Monteagle, whose
+eye had never left him for a moment, although her attentions had been
+necessarily commanded by her guests, and who dreaded the silent rages
+in which Cadurcis constantly indulged, and which, when once assumed
+for the day, were with difficulty dissipated, seized the first
+opportunity to join and soothe him.
+
+'Dear Cadurcis,' she said, 'why do you sit here? You know I am obliged
+to speak to all these odious people, and it is very cruel of you.'
+
+'You seemed to me to be extremely happy,' replied his lordship, in a
+sarcastic tone.
+
+'Now, Cadurcis, for Heaven's sake do not play with my feelings,'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, in a deprecating tone. 'Pray be amiable. If
+I think you are in one of your dark humours, it is quite impossible
+for me to attend to these people; and you know it is the only point on
+which Monteagle ever has an opinion; he insists upon my attending to
+his guests.'
+
+'If you prefer his guests to me, attend to them.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis! I ask you as a favour, a favour to me, only for
+to-day. Be kind, be amiable, you can if you like; no person can be
+more amiable; now, do!'
+
+'I am amiable,' said his lordship; 'I am perfectly satisfied, if you
+are. You made me dine here.'
+
+'Now, Cadurcis!'
+
+'Have I not dined here to satisfy you?'
+
+'Yes! It was very kind.'
+
+'But, really, that I should be wearied with all the common-places of
+these creatures who come to eat your husband's cutlets, is too much,'
+said his lordship. 'And you, Gertrude, what necessity can there be in
+your troubling yourself to amuse people whom you meet every day of
+your life, and who, from the vulgar perversity of society, value you
+in exact proportion as you neglect them?'
+
+'Yes, but to-day I must be attentive; for Henry, with his usual
+thoughtlessness, has asked this new bishop to dine with us.'
+
+'The Bishop of----?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Is he coming?'
+
+'He has been in the room this quarter of an hour?'
+
+'What, Masham! Doctor Masham!' continued Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Assuredly.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis changed colour, and even sighed. He rose rather quickly,
+and said, 'I must go and speak to him.'
+
+So, quitting Lady Monteagle, he crossed the room, and with all the
+simplicity of old days, which instantly returned on him, those
+melancholy eyes sparkling with animation, and that languid form quick
+with excitement, he caught the Doctor's glance, and shook his extended
+hand with a heartiness which astonished the surrounding spectators,
+accustomed to the elaborate listlessness of his usual manner.
+
+'My dear Doctor! my dear Lord! I am glad to say,' said Cadurcis, 'this
+is the greatest and the most unexpected pleasure I ever received. Of
+all persons in the world, you are the one whom I was most anxious to
+meet.'
+
+The good Bishop appeared not less gratified with the rencounter than
+Cadurcis himself; but, in the midst of their mutual congratulations,
+dinner was announced and served; and, in due order, Lord Cadurcis
+found himself attending that fine lady, whom Mr. Horace Pole had, in
+jest, suggested should be the object of his services; while Mr. Pole
+himself was seated opposite to him at table.
+
+The lady, remembering all Mr. Pole's intimations, was really
+much frightened; she at first could scarcely reply to the casual
+observations of her neighbour, and quite resolved not to eat anything.
+But his lively and voluble conversation, his perfectly unaffected
+manner, and the nonchalance with which he helped himself to every dish
+that was offered him, soon reassured her. Her voice became a little
+firmer, her manner less embarrassed, and she even began meditating a
+delicate assault upon a fricassee.
+
+'Are you going to Ranelagh to-night?' inquired Lord Cadurcis; 'I think
+I shall take a round. There is nothing like amusement; it is the only
+thing worth living for; and I thank my destiny I am easily amused. We
+must persuade Lady Monteagle to go with us. Let us make a party, and
+return and sup. I like a supper; nothing in the world more charming
+than a supper,
+
+  A lobster salad, and champagne and chat.
+
+That is life, and delightful. Why, really, my dear madam, you eat
+nothing. You will never be able to endure the fatigues of a Ranelagh
+campaign on the sustenance of a pate. Pole, my good fellow, will you
+take a glass of wine? We had a pleasant party yesterday at Fanshawe's,
+and apparently a capital dinner. I was sorry that I could not play my
+part; but I have led rather a raking life lately. We must go and dine
+with him again.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis' neighbour and Mr. Pole exchanged looks; and the lady,
+emboldened by the unexpected conduct of her cavalier and the exceeding
+good friends which he seemed resolved to be with her and every
+one else, began to flatter herself that she might yet obtain the
+much-desired inscription in her volume. So, after making the usual
+approaches, of having a great favour to request, which, however, she
+could not flatter herself would be granted, and which she even was
+afraid to mention; encouraged by the ready declaration of Lord
+Cadurcis, that he should think it would be quite impossible for any
+one to deny her anything, the lady ventured to state, that Mr. Fox had
+written something in her book, and she should be the most honoured and
+happiest lady in the land if--'
+
+'Oh! I shall be most happy,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'I really esteem your
+request quite an honour: you know I am only a literary amateur, and
+cannot pretend to vie with your real authors. If you want them, you
+must go to Mrs. Montagu. I would not write a line for her, and no the
+blues have quite excommunicated me. Never mind; I leave them to Miss
+Hannah More; but you, you are quite a different sort of person. What
+shall I write?'
+
+'I must leave the subject to you,' said his gratified friend.
+
+'Well, then,' said his lordship, 'I dare say you have got a lapdog or
+a broken fan; I don't think I could soar above them. I think that is
+about my tether.'
+
+This lady, though a great person, was not a beauty, and very little
+of a wit, and not calculated in any respect to excite the jealousy of
+Lady Monteagle. In the meantime that lady was quite delighted with the
+unusual animation of Lord Cadurcis, who was much the most entertaining
+member of the party. Every one present would circulate throughout
+the world that it was only at the Monteagle's that Lord Cadurcis
+condescended to be amusing. As the Bishop was seated on her right
+hand, Lady Monteagle seized the opportunity of making inquiries as to
+their acquaintance; but she only obtained from the good Masham that he
+had once resided in his lordship's neighbourhood, and had known him as
+a child, and was greatly attached to him. Her ladyship was anxious to
+obtain some juvenile anecdotes of her hero; but the Bishop contrived
+to be amusing without degenerating into gossip. She did not glean
+much, except that all his early friends were more astonished at his
+present career than the Bishop himself, who was about to add, that
+he always had some misgivings, but, recollecting where he was, he
+converted the word into a more gracious term. But if Lady Monteagle
+were not so successful as she could wish in her inquiries, she
+contrived still to speak on the, to her, ever-interesting subject, and
+consoled herself by the communications which she poured into a guarded
+yet not unwilling ear, respecting the present life and conduct of
+the Bishop's former pupil. The worthy dignitary had been prepared by
+public fame for much that was dazzling and eccentric; but it must be
+confessed he was not a little astonished by a great deal to which he
+listened. One thing, however, was clear that whatever might be the
+demeanour of Cadurcis to the circle in which he now moved, time, and
+the strange revolutions of his life, had not affected his carriage
+to his old friend. It gratified the Bishop while he listened to Lady
+Monteagle's details of the haughty, reserved, and melancholy demeanour
+of Cadurcis, which impressed every one with an idea that some superior
+being had, as a punishment, been obliged to visit their humble globe,
+to recall the apparently heartfelt cordiality with which he had
+resumed his old acquaintance with the former rector of Marringhurst.
+
+And indeed, to speak truth, the amiable and unpretending behaviour of
+Cadurcis this day was entirely attributable to the unexpected meeting
+with this old friend. In the hurry of society he could scarcely dwell
+upon the associations which it was calculated to call up; yet
+more than once he found himself quite absent, dwelling on sweet
+recollections of that Cherbury that he had so loved. And ever and anon
+the tones of a familiar voice caught his ear, so that they almost made
+him start: they were not the less striking, because, as Masham was
+seated on the same side of the table as Cadurcis, his eye had not
+become habituated to the Bishop's presence, which sometimes he almost
+doubted.
+
+He seized the first opportunity after dinner of engaging his old tutor
+in conversation. He took him affectionately by the arm, and led him,
+as if unintentionally, to a sofa apart from the rest of the company,
+and seated himself by his side. Cadurcis was agitated, for he was
+about to inquire of some whom he could not mention without emotion.
+
+'Is it long since you have seen our friends?' said his lordship, 'if
+indeed I may call them mine.'
+
+'Lady Annabel Herbert?' said the Bishop.
+
+Cadurcis bowed.
+
+'I parted from her about two months back,' continued the Bishop.
+
+'And Cherbury, dear Cherbury, is it unchanged?'
+
+'They have not resided there for more than two years.'
+
+'Indeed!'
+
+'They have lived, of late, at Weymouth, for the benefit of the sea
+air.'
+
+'I hope neither Lady Annabel nor her daughter needs it?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, in a tone of much feeling.
+
+'Neither now, God be praised!' replied Masham; 'but Miss Herbert has
+been a great invalid.'
+
+There was a rather awkward silence. At length Lord Cadurcis said, 'We
+meet rather unexpectedly, my dear sir.'
+
+'Why, you have become a great man,' said the Bishop, with a smile;
+'and one must expect to meet you.'
+
+'Ah! my dear friend,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, with a sigh, 'I would
+willingly give a whole existence of a life like this for one year of
+happiness at Cherbury.'
+
+'Nay!' said the Bishop, with a look of good-natured mockery, 'this
+melancholy is all very well in poetry; but I always half-suspected,
+and I am quite sure now, that Cherbury was not particularly adapted to
+you.'
+
+'You mistake me,' said Cadurcis, mournfully shaking his head.
+
+'Hitherto I have not been so very wrong in my judgment respecting
+Lord Cadurcis, that I am inclined very easily to give up my opinion,'
+replied the Bishop.
+
+'I have often thought of the conversation to which you allude,'
+replied Lord Cadurcis; 'nevertheless, there is one opinion I never
+changed, one sentiment that still reigns paramount in my heart.'
+
+'You think so,' said his companion; but, perhaps, were it more than a
+sentiment, it would cease to flourish.'
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis firmly; 'the only circumstance in the world
+of which I venture to feel certain is my love for Venetia.'
+
+'It raged certainly during your last visit to Cherbury,' said the
+Bishop, 'after an interval of five years; it has been revived slightly
+to-day, after an interval of three more, by the sight of a mutual
+acquaintance, who has reminded you of her. But what have been your
+feelings in the meantime? Confess the truth, and admit you have very
+rarely spared a thought to the person to whom you fancy yourself at
+this moment so passionately devoted.'
+
+'You do not do me justice,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you are prejudiced
+against me.'
+
+'Nay! prejudice is not my humour, my good lord. I decide only from
+what I myself observe; I give my opinion to you at this moment as
+freely as I did when you last conversed with me at the abbey, and when
+I a little displeased you by speaking what you will acknowledge has
+since turned out to be the truth.'
+
+'You mean, then, to say,' said his lordship, with some excitement,
+'that you do not believe that I love Venetia?'
+
+'I think you do, at this moment,' replied Masham; 'and I think,' he
+continued, smiling, 'that you may probably continue very much in love
+with her, even during the rest of the week.'
+
+'You mock me!'
+
+'Nay! I am sincerely serious.'
+
+'What, then, do you mean?'
+
+'I mean that your imagination, my lord, dwelling for the moment with
+great power upon the idea of Venetia, becomes inflamed, and your whole
+mind is filled with her image.'
+
+'A metaphysical description of being in love,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+rather dryly.
+
+'Nay!' said Masham, 'I think the heart has something to do with that.'
+
+'But the imagination acts upon the heart,' rejoined his companion.
+
+'But it is in the nature of its influence not to endure. At this
+moment, I repeat, your lordship may perhaps love Miss Herbert; you
+may go home and muse over her memory, and even deplore in passionate
+verses your misery in being separated from her; but, in the course of
+a few days, she will be again forgotten.'
+
+'But were she mine?' urged Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Why, you would probably part from her in a year, as her father parted
+from Lady Annabel.'
+
+'Impossible! for my imagination could not conceive anything more
+exquisite than she is.'
+
+'Then it would conceive something less exquisite,' said the Bishop.
+'It is a restless quality, and is ever creative, either of good or of
+evil.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Doctor, excuse me for again calling you Doctor, it is so
+natural,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of affection.
+
+'Call me what you will, my dear lord,' said the good Bishop, whose
+heart was moved; 'I can never forget old days.'
+
+'Believe me, then,' continued Cadurcis, 'that you misjudge me in
+respect of Venetia. I feel assured that, had we married three years
+ago, I should have been a much happier man.'
+
+'Why, you have everything to make you happy,' said the Bishop; 'if you
+are not happy, who should be? You are young, and you are famous: all
+that is now wanted is to be wise.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis shrugged his shoulders. I am tired of this life,' he
+said; 'I am wearied of the same hollow bustle, and the same false
+glitter day after day. Ah! my dear friend, when I remember the happy
+hours when I used to roam through the woods of Cherbury with Venetia,
+and ramble in that delicious park, both young, both innocent, lit by
+the sunset and guided by the stars; and then remember that it has all
+ended in this, and that this is success, glory, fame, or whatever be
+the proper title to baptize the bubble, the burthen of existence is
+too great for me.'
+
+'Hush, hush!' said his friend, rising from the sofa; 'you will be
+happy if you be wise.'
+
+'But what is wisdom?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'One quality of it, in your situation, my lord, is to keep your head
+as calm as you can. Now, I must bid you good night.'
+
+The Bishop disappeared, and Lord Cadurcis was immediately surrounded
+by several fine ladies, who were encouraged by the flattering bulletin
+that his neighbour at dinner, who was among them, had given of his
+lordship's temper. They were rather disappointed to find him sullen,
+sarcastic, and even morose. As for going to Ranelagh, he declared
+that, if he had the power of awarding the punishment of his bitterest
+enemy, it would be to consign him for an hour to the barbarous
+infliction of a promenade in that temple of ennui; and as for the
+owner of the album, who, anxious about her verses, ventured to express
+a hope that his lordship would call upon her, the contemptuous bard
+gave her what he was in the habit of styling 'a look,' and quitted
+the room, without deigning otherwise to acknowledge her hopes and her
+courtesy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+We must now return to our friends the Herberts, who, having quitted
+Weymouth, without even revisiting Cherbury, are now on their journey
+to the metropolis. It was not without considerable emotion that Lady
+Annabel, after an absence of nearly nineteen years, contemplated her
+return to the scene of some of the most extraordinary and painful
+occurrences of her life. As for Venetia, who knew nothing of towns and
+cities, save from the hasty observations she had made in travelling,
+the idea of London, formed only from books and her imagination, was
+invested with even awful attributes. Mistress Pauncefort alone
+looked forward to their future residence simply with feelings of
+self-congratulation at her return, after so long an interval, to the
+theatre of former triumphs and pleasures, and where she conceived
+herself so eminently qualified to shine and to enjoy.
+
+The travellers entered town towards nightfall, by Hyde Park Corner,
+and proceeded to an hotel in St. James's Street, where Lady Annabel's
+man of business had engaged them apartments. London, with its pallid
+parish lamps, scattered at long intervals, would have presented but a
+gloomy appearance to the modern eye, habituated to all the splendour
+of gas; but to Venetia it seemed difficult to conceive a scene of more
+brilliant bustle; and she leant back in the carriage, distracted with
+the lights and the confusion of the crowded streets. When they were
+once safely lodged in their new residence, the tumult of unpacking the
+carriages had subsided, and the ceaseless tongue of Pauncefort had
+in some degree refrained from its wearying and worrying chatter,
+a feeling of loneliness, after all this agitation and excitement,
+simultaneously came over the feelings of both mother and daughter,
+though they alike repressed its expression. Lady Annabel was lost
+in many sad thoughts, and Venetia felt mournful, though she could
+scarcely define the cause. Both were silent, and they soon sought
+refuge from fatigue and melancholy in sleep.
+
+The next morning, it being now April, was fortunately bright and
+clear. It certainly was a happy fortune that the fair Venetia was not
+greeted with a fog. She rose refreshed and cheerful, and joined her
+mother, who was, however, not a little agitated by an impending visit,
+of which Venetia had been long apprised. This was from Lady Annabel's
+brother, the former ambassador, who had of late returned to his native
+country. The brother and sister had been warmly attached in youth, but
+the awful interval of time that had elapsed since they parted, filled
+Venetia's mother with many sad and serious reflections. The Earl and
+his family had been duly informed of Lady Annabel's visit to the
+metropolis, and had hastened to offer her the hospitality of their
+home; but the offer had been declined, with feelings, however, not a
+little gratified by the earnestness with which it had been proffered.
+
+Venetia was now, for the first time in her life, to see a relative.
+The anticipated meeting excited in her mind rather curiosity than
+sentiment. She could not share the agitation of her mother, and
+yet she looked forward to the arrival of her uncle with extreme
+inquisitiveness. She was not long kept in suspense. Their breakfast
+was scarcely finished, when he was announced. Lady Annabel turned
+rather pale; and Venetia, who felt herself as it were a stranger to
+her blood, would have retired, had not her mother requested her to
+remain; so she only withdrew to the back of the apartment.
+
+Her uncle was ten years the senior of his sister, but not unlike her.
+Tall, graceful, with those bland and sympathising manners that easily
+win hearts, he entered the room with a smile of affection, yet with a
+composure of deportment that expressed at the same time how sincerely
+delighted he was at the meeting, and how considerately determined, at
+the same time, not to indulge in a scene. He embraced his sister with
+tenderness, assured her that she looked as young as ever, softly
+chided her for not making his house her home, and hoped that they
+should never part again; and he then turned to his niece. A fine
+observer, one less interested in the scene than the only witnesses,
+might have detected in the Earl, notwithstanding his experienced
+breeding, no ordinary surprise and gratification at the sight of the
+individual whose relationship he was now to claim for the first time.
+
+'I must claim an uncle's privilege,' he said, in a tone of sweetness
+and some emotion, as he pressed with his own the beautiful lips of
+Venetia. 'I ought to be proud of my niece. Why, Annabel! if only for
+the honour of our family, you should not have kept this jewel so long
+enshrined in the casket of Cherbury.'
+
+The Earl remained with them some hours, and his visit was really
+prolonged by the unexpected pleasure which he found in the society of
+his relations. He would not leave them until they promised to dine
+with him that day, and mentioned that he had prevented his wife from
+calling with him that morning, because he thought, after so long a
+separation, it might be better to meet thus quietly. Then they parted
+with affectionate cordiality on both sides; the Earl enchanted to find
+delightful companions where he was half afraid he might only meet
+tiresome relatives; Lady Annabel proud of her brother, and gratified
+by his kindness; and Venetia anxious to ascertain whether all her
+relations were as charming as her uncle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+When Lady Annabel and her daughter returned from their morning drive,
+they found the visiting ticket of the Countess on the table, who had
+also left a note, with which she had provided herself in case she was
+not so fortunate as to meet her relations. The note was affectionate,
+and expressed the great delight of the writer at again meeting her
+dear sister, and forming an acquaintance with her charming niece.
+
+'More relations!' said Venetia, with a somewhat droll expression of
+countenance.
+
+At this moment the Bishop of----, who had already called twice upon
+them unsuccessfully, entered the room. The sight of this old and dear
+friend gave great joy. He came to engage them to dine with him the
+next day, having already ineffectually endeavoured to obtain them for
+permanent guests. They sat chatting so long with him, that they were
+obliged at last to bid him an abrupt adieu, and hasten and make their
+toilettes for their dinner.
+
+Their hostess received her relations with a warmth which her husband's
+praises of her sister-in-law and niece had originally prompted, but
+which their appearance and manners instantly confirmed. As all the
+Earl's children were married, their party consisted to-day only of
+themselves; but it was a happy and agreeable meeting, for every
+one was desirous of being amiable. To be sure they had not many
+recollections or associations in common, and no one recurred to the
+past; but London, and the history of its fleeting hours, was an
+inexhaustible source of amusing conversation; and the Countess seemed
+resolved that Venetia should have a brilliant season; that she should
+be much amused and much admired. Lady Annabel, however, put in a plea
+for moderation, at least until Venetia was presented; but that the
+Countess declared must be at the next drawing-room, which was early in
+the ensuing week. Venetia listened to glittering narratives of balls
+and routs, operas and theatres, breakfasts and masquerades, Ranelagh
+and the Pantheon, with the same smiling composure as if she had been
+accustomed to them all her life, instead of having been shut up in
+a garden, with no livelier or brighter companions than birds and
+flowers.
+
+After dinner, as her aunt and uncle and Lady Annabel sat round the
+fire, talking of her maternal grandfather, a subject which did not at
+all interest her, Venetia stole from her chair to a table in a distant
+part of the room, and turned over some books and music that were lying
+upon it. Among these was a literary journal, which she touched almost
+by accident, and which opened, with the name of Lord Cadurcis on the
+top of its page. This, of course, instantly attracted her attention.
+Her eye passed hastily over some sentences which greatly astonished
+her, and, extending her arm for a chair without quitting the book,
+she was soon deeply absorbed by the marvels which rapidly unfolded
+themselves to her. The article in question was an elaborate criticism
+as well of the career as the works of the noble poet; for, indeed, as
+Venetia now learnt, they were inseparably blended. She gathered from
+these pages a faint and hasty yet not altogether unfaithful conception
+of the strange revolution that had occurred in the character,
+pursuits, and position of her former companion. In that mighty
+metropolis, whose wealth and luxury and power had that morning so
+vividly impressed themselves upon her consciousness, and to the
+history of whose pleasures and brilliant and fantastic dissipation she
+had recently been listening with a lively and diverted ear, it seemed
+that, by some rapid and magical vicissitude, her little Plantagenet,
+the faithful and affectionate companion of her childhood, whose
+sorrows she had so often soothed, and who in her pure and devoted love
+had always found consolation and happiness, had become 'the observed
+of all observers;' the most remarkable where all was striking, and
+dazzling where all were brilliant!
+
+His last visit to Cherbury, and its strange consequences, then
+occurred to her; his passionate addresses, and their bitter parting.
+Here was surely matter enough for a maiden's reverie, and into a
+reverie Venetia certainly fell, from which she was roused by the voice
+of her uncle, who could not conceive what book his charming niece
+could find so interesting, and led her to feel what an ill compliment
+she was paying to all present. Venetia hastily closed the volume, and
+rose rather confused from her seat; her radiant smile was the
+best apology to her uncle: and she compensated for her previous
+inattention, by playing to him on the harpsichord. All the time,
+however, the image of Cadurcis flitted across her vision, and she
+was glad when her mother moved to retire, that she might enjoy the
+opportunity of pondering in silence and unobserved over the strange
+history that she had read.
+
+London is a wonderful place! Four-and-twenty hours back, with a
+feeling of loneliness and depression amounting to pain, Venetia had
+fled to sleep as her only refuge; now only a day had passed, and
+she had both seen and heard many things that had alike startled and
+pleased her; had found powerful and charming friends; and laid her
+head upon her pillow in a tumult of emotion that long banished slumber
+from her beautiful eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Venetia soon found that she must bid adieu for ever, in London, to her
+old habits of solitude. She soon discovered that she was never to be
+alone. Her aunt called upon them early in the morning, and said that
+the whole day must be devoted to their court dresses; and in a few
+minutes they were all whirled off to a celebrated milliner's. After
+innumerable consultations and experiments, the dress of Venetia was
+decided on; her aunt and Lady Annabel were both assured that it would
+exceed in splendour and propriety any dress at the drawing-room.
+Indeed, as the great artist added, with such a model to work from
+it would reflect but little credit on the establishment, if any
+approached Miss Herbert in the effect she must inevitably produce.
+
+While her mother was undergoing some of those attentions to which
+Venetia had recently submitted, and had retired for a few minutes into
+an adjoining apartment, our little lady of Cherbury strolled about the
+saloon in which she had been left, until her attention was attracted
+by a portrait of a young man in an oriental dress, standing very
+sublimely amid the ruins of some desert city; a palm tree in the
+distance, and by his side a crouching camel, and some recumbent
+followers slumbering amid the fallen columns.
+
+'That is Lord Cadurcis, my love,' said her aunt, who at the moment
+joined her, 'the famous poet. All the young ladies are in love with
+him. I dare say you know his works by heart.'
+
+'No, indeed, aunt,' said Venetia; 'I have never even read them; but I
+should like very much.'
+
+'Not read Lord Cadurcis' poems! Oh! we must go and get them directly
+for you. Everybody reads them. You will be looked upon quite as a
+little barbarian. We will stop the carriage at Stockdale's, and get
+them for you.'
+
+At this moment Lady Annabel rejoined them; and, having made all their
+arrangements, they re-entered the carriage.
+
+'Stop at Stockdale's,' said her ladyship to the servant; 'I must
+get Cadurcis' last poem for Venetia. She will be quite back in her
+learning, Annabel.'
+
+'Cadurcis' last poem!' said Lady Annabel; 'do you mean Lord Cadurcis?
+Is he a poet?'
+
+'To he sure! Well, you are countrified not to know Lord Cadurcis!'
+
+'I know him very well,' said Lady Annabel, gravely; 'but I did not
+know he was a poet.'
+
+The Countess laughed, the carriage stopped, the book was brought; Lady
+Annabel looked uneasy, and tried to catch her daughter's countenance,
+but, strange to say, for the first time in her life was quite
+unsuccessful. The Countess took the book, and immediately gave it
+Venetia. 'There, my dear,' said her aunt, 'there never was anything so
+charming. I am so provoked that Cadurcis is a Whig.'
+
+'A Whig!' said Lady Annabel; 'he was not a Whig when I knew him.'
+
+'Oh! my dear, I am afraid he is worse than a Whig. He is almost a
+rebel! But then he is such a genius! Everything is allowed, you know,
+to a genius!' said the thoughtless sister-in-law.
+
+Lady Annabel was silent; but the stillness of her emotion must not be
+judged from the stillness of her tongue. Her astonishment at all she
+had heard was only equalled by what we may justly term her horror. It
+was impossible that she could have listened to any communication at
+the same time so astounding, and to her so fearful.
+
+'We knew Lord Cadurcis when he was very young, aunt,' said Venetia, in
+a quiet tone. 'He lived near mamma, in the country.'
+
+'Oh! my dear Annabel, if you see him in town bring him to me; he is
+the most difficult person in the world to get to one's house, and I
+would give anything if he would come and dine with me.'
+
+The Countess at last set her relations down at their hotel. When Lady
+Annabel was once more alone with her daughter, she said, 'Venetia,
+dearest, give me that book your aunt lent you.'
+
+Venetia immediately handed it to her, but her mother did not open it;
+but saying, 'The Bishop dines at four, darling; I think it is time for
+us to dress,' Lady Annabel left the room.
+
+To say the truth, Venetia was less surprised than disappointed by this
+conduct of her mother's; but she was not apt to murmur, and she tried
+to dismiss the subject from her thoughts.
+
+It was with unfeigned delight that the kind-hearted Masham welcomed
+under his own roof his two best and dearest friends. He had asked
+nobody to meet them; it was settled that they were to be quite alone,
+and to talk of nothing but Cherbury and Marringhurst. When they were
+seated at table, the Bishop, who had been detained at the House of
+Lords, and been rather hurried to be in time to receive his guests,
+turned to his servant and inquired whether any one had called.
+
+'Yes, my lord, Lord Cadurcis,' was the reply.
+
+'Our old companion,' said the Bishop to Lady Annabel, with a
+smile. 'He has called upon me twice, and I have on both occasions
+unfortunately been absent.'
+
+Lady Annabel merely bowed an assent to the Bishop's remark. Venetia
+longed to speak, but found it impossible. 'What is it that represses
+me?' she asked herself. 'Is there to be another forbidden subject
+insensibly to arise between us? I must struggle against this
+indefinable despotism that seems to pervade my life.'
+
+'Have you met Lord Cadurcis, sir?' at length asked Venetia.
+
+'Once; we resumed our acquaintance at a dinner party one day; but I
+shall soon see a great deal of him, for he has just taken his seat. He
+is of age, you know.'
+
+'I hope he has come to years of discretion in every sense,' said Lady
+Annabel; 'but I fear not.'
+
+'Oh, my dear lady!' said the Bishop, 'he has become a great man; he is
+our star. I assure you there is nobody in London talked of but Lord
+Cadurcis. He asked me a great deal after you and Cherbury. He will be
+delighted to see you.'
+
+'I cannot say,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that the desire of meeting is
+at all mutual. From all I hear, our connections and opinions are very
+different, and I dare say our habits likewise.'
+
+'My aunt lent us his new poem to-day,' said Venetia, boldly.
+
+'Have you read it?' asked the Bishop.
+
+'I am no admirer of modern poetry,' said Lady Annabel, somewhat
+tartly.
+
+'Poetry of any kind is not much in my way,' said the Bishop, 'but if
+you like to read his poems, I will lend them to you, for he gave me a
+copy; esteemed a great honour, I assure you.'
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Lady Annabel, 'both Venetia and myself
+are much engaged now; and I do not wish her to read while she is in
+London. When we return to Cherbury she will have abundance of time, if
+desirable.'
+
+Both Venetia and her worthy host felt that the present subject of
+conversation was not agreeable to Lady Annabel, and it was changed.
+They fell upon more gracious topics, and in spite of this somewhat
+sullen commencement the meeting was quite as delightful as they
+anticipated. Lady Annabel particularly exerted herself to please, and,
+as was invariably the case under such circumstances with this lady,
+she was eminently successful; she apparently endeavoured, by her
+remarkable kindness to her daughter, to atone for any unpleasant
+feeling which her previous manner might for an instant have
+occasioned. Venetia watched her beautiful and affectionate parent,
+as Lady Annabel now dwelt with delight upon the remembrance of their
+happy home, and now recurred to the anxiety she naturally felt about
+her daughter's approaching presentation, with feelings of love and
+admiration, which made her accuse herself for the recent rebellion of
+her heart. She thought only of her mother's sorrows, and her devotion
+to her child; and, grateful for the unexpected course of circumstances
+which seemed to be leading every member of their former little society
+to honour and happiness, she resolved to persist in that career of
+duty and devotion to her mother, from which it seemed to her she had
+never deviated for a moment but to experience sorrow, misfortune, and
+remorse. Never did Venetia receive her mother's accustomed embrace
+and blessing with more responsive tenderness and gratitude than
+this night. She banished Cadurcis and his poems from her thoughts,
+confident that, so long as her mother approved neither of her
+continuing his acquaintance, nor perusing his writings, it was well
+that the one should be a forgotten tie, and the other a sealed book.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Among the intimate acquaintances of Lady Annabel's brother was the
+nobleman who had been a minister during the American war, and who
+had also been the guardian of Lord Cadurcis, of whom, indeed, he was
+likewise a distant relative. He had called with his wife on Lady
+Annabel, after meeting her and her daughter at her brother's, and had
+cultivated her acquaintance with great kindness and assiduity, so
+that Lady Annabel had found it impossible to refuse his invitation to
+dinner.
+
+This dinner occurred a few days after the visit of the Herberts to the
+Bishop, and that excellent personage, her own family, and some others
+equally distinguished, but all of the ministerial party, were invited
+to meet her. Lady Annabel found herself placed at table between a
+pompous courtier, who, being a gourmand, was not very prompt to
+disturb his enjoyment by conversation, and a young man whom she found
+very agreeable, and who at first, indeed, attracted her attention by
+his resemblance to some face with which she felt she was familiar,
+and yet which she was not successful in recalling. His manners were
+remarkably frank and ingenuous, yet soft and refined. Without having
+any peculiar brilliancy of expression, he was apt and fluent, and his
+whole demeanour characterised by a gentle modesty that was highly
+engaging. Apparently he had travelled a great deal, for he more than
+once alluded to his experience of foreign countries; but this was
+afterwards explained by Lady Annabel discovering, from an observation
+he let fall, that he was a sailor. A passing question from an opposite
+guest also told her that he was a member of parliament. While she was
+rather anxiously wishing to know who he might be, and congratulating
+herself that one in whose favour she was so much prepossessed should
+be on the right side, their host saluted him from the top of the
+table, and said, 'Captain Cadurcis, a glass of wine.'
+
+The countenance was now explained. It was indeed Lord Cadurcis whom he
+resembled, though his eyes were dark blue, and his hair light brown.
+This then was that cousin who had been sent to sea to make his
+fortune, and whom Lady Annabel had a faint recollection of poor Mrs.
+Cadurcis once mentioning. George Cadurcis had not exactly made his
+fortune, but he had distinguished himself in his profession, and
+especially in Rodney's victory, and had fought his way up to the
+command of a frigate. The frigate had recently been paid off, and he
+had called to pay his respects to his noble relative with the hope of
+obtaining his interest for a new command. The guardian of his
+cousin, mortified with the conduct of his hopeful ward, was not very
+favourably impressed towards any one who bore the name of Cadurcis;
+yet George, with no pretence, had a winning honest manner that made
+friends; his lordship took a fancy to him, and, as he could not at the
+moment obtain him a ship, he did the next best thing for him in his
+power; a borough was vacant, and he put him into parliament.
+
+'Do you know,' said Lady Annabel to her neighbour, 'I have been
+fancying all dinner time that we had met before; but I find it is that
+you only resemble one with whom I was once acquainted.'
+
+'My cousin!' said the Captain; 'he will be very mortified when I go
+home, if I tell him your ladyship speaks of his acquaintance as one
+that is past.'
+
+'It is some years since we met,' said Lady Annabel, in a more reserved
+tone.
+
+'Plantagenet can never forget what he owes to you,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'How often has he spoken to me of you and Miss Herbert! It
+was only the other night; yes! not a week ago; that he made me sit up
+with him all night, while he was telling stories of Cherbury: you see
+I am quite familiar with the spot,' he added, smiling.
+
+'You are very intimate with your cousin, I see,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I live a great deal with him,' said George Cadurcis. 'You know we had
+never met or communicated; and it was not Plantagenet's fault, I am
+sure; for of all the generous, amiable, lovable beings, Cadurcis is
+the best I ever met with in this world. Ever since we knew each other
+he has been a brother to me; and though our politics and opinions are
+so opposed, and we naturally live in such a different circle, he would
+have insisted even upon my having apartments in his house; nor is it
+possible for me to give you the slightest idea of the delicate and
+unceasing kindness I experience from him. If we had lived together all
+our lives, it would be impossible to be more united.'
+
+This eulogium rather softened Lady Annabel's heart; she even observed,
+'I always thought Lord Cadurcis naturally well disposed; I always
+hoped he would turn out well; but I was afraid, from what I heard, he
+was much changed. He shows, however, his sense and good feeling in
+selecting you for his friend; for you are his natural one,' she added,
+after a momentary pause.
+
+'And then you know,' he continued, 'it is so purely kind of him; for
+of course I am not fit to be a companion for Cadurcis, and perhaps, as
+far as that, no one is. Of course we have not a thought in common. I
+know nothing but what I have picked up in a rough life; and he, you
+know, is the cleverest person that ever lived, at least I think so.'
+
+Lady Annabel smiled.
+
+'Well, he is very young,' she observed, 'much your junior, Captain
+Cadurcis; and I hope he will yet prove a faithful steward of the great
+gifts that God has given him.'
+
+'I would stake all I hold dear,' said the Captain, with great
+animation, 'that Cadurcis turns out well. He has such a good heart.
+Ah! Lady Annabel, if he be now and then a little irregular, only think
+of the temptations that assail him. Only one-and-twenty, his own
+master, and all London at his feet. It is too much for any one's head.
+But say or think what the world may, I know him better than they do;
+and I know there is not a finer creature in existence. I hope his old
+friends will not desert him,' added Captain Cadurcis, with a smile
+which, seemed to deprecate the severity of Lady Annabel; 'for in spite
+of all his fame and prosperity, perhaps, after all, this is the time
+when he most needs them.'
+
+'Very possibly,' said her ladyship rather dryly.
+
+While the mother was engaged in this conversation with her neighbour
+respecting her former interesting acquaintance, such was the fame of
+Lord Cadurcis then in the metropolis, that he also formed the topic of
+conversation at another part of the table, to which the daughter was
+an attentive listener. The tone in which he was spoken of, however,
+was of a very different character. While no one disputed his genius,
+his principles, temper, and habits of life were submitted to the
+severest scrutiny; and it was with blended feelings of interest and
+astonishment that Venetia listened to the detail of wild opinions,
+capricious conduct, and extravagant and eccentric behaviour ascribed
+to the companion of her childhood, who had now become the spoiled
+child of society. A shrewd gentleman, who had taken an extremely
+active part in this discussion, inquired of Venetia, next to whom he
+was seated, whether she had read his lordship's last poem. He was
+extremely surprised when Venetia answered in the negative; but he
+seized the opportunity of giving her an elaborate criticism on the
+poetical genius of Cadurcis. 'As for his style,' said the critic, 'no
+one can deny that is his own, and he will last by his style; as for
+his philosophy, and all these wild opinions of his, they will pass
+away, because they are not genuine, they are not his own, they are
+borrowed. He will outwrite them; depend upon it, he will. The fact is,
+as a friend of mine observed the other day, Herbert's writings have
+turned his head. Of course you could know nothing about them, but
+there are wonderful things in them, I can tell you that.'
+
+'I believe it most sincerely,' said Venetia.
+
+The critic stared at his neighbour. 'Hush!' said he, 'his wife and
+daughter are here. We must not talk of these things. You know Lady
+Annabel Herbert? There she is; a very fine woman too. And that is his
+daughter there, I believe, that dark girl with a turned-up nose. I
+cannot say she warrants the poetical address to her:
+
+  My precious pearl the false and glittering world
+  Has ne'er polluted with, its garish light!
+
+She does not look much like a pearl, does she? She should keep in
+solitude, eh?'
+
+The ladies rose and relieved Venetia from her embarrassment.
+
+After dinner Lady Annabel introduced George Cadurcis to her daughter;
+and, seated by them both, he contrived without effort, and without the
+slightest consciousness of success, to confirm the pleasing impression
+in his favour which he had already made, and, when they parted, it was
+even with a mutual wish that they might meet again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was the night after the drawing-room. Lord Cadurcis was at Brookes'
+dining at midnight, having risen since only a few hours. Being a
+malcontent, he had ceased to attend the Court, where his original
+reception had been most gracious, which he had returned by some
+factious votes, and a caustic lampoon.
+
+A party of young men entered, from the Court Ball, which in those days
+always terminated at midnight, whence the guests generally proceeded
+to Ranelagh; one or two of them seated themselves at the table at
+which Cadurcis was sitting. They were full of a new beauty who had
+been presented. Their violent and even extravagant encomiums excited
+his curiosity. Such a creature had never been seen, she was peerless,
+the most radiant of acknowledged charms had been dimmed before her.
+Their Majesties had accorded to her the most marked reception. A
+Prince of the blood had honoured her with his hand. Then they began to
+expatiate with fresh enthusiasm on her unparalleled loveliness.
+
+'O Cadurcis,' said a young noble, who was one of his extreme admirers,
+'she is the only creature I ever beheld worthy of being one of your
+heroines.'
+
+'Whom are you talking about?' asked Cadurcis in a rather listless
+tone.
+
+'The new beauty, of course.'
+
+'And who may she be?'
+
+'Miss Herbert, to be sure. Who speaks or thinks of any one else?'
+
+'What, Ve----, I mean Miss Herbert?' exclaimed Cadurcis, with no
+little energy.
+
+'Yes. Do you know her?'
+
+'Do you mean to say--' and Cadurcis stopped and rose from the table,
+and joined the party round the fire. 'What Miss Herbert is it?' he
+added, after a short pause.
+
+'Why _the_ Miss Herbert; Herbert's daughter, to be sure. She was
+presented to-day by her mother.
+
+'Lady Annabel?'
+
+'The same.'
+
+'Presented to-day!' said Cadurcis audibly, yet speaking as it were to
+himself. 'Presented to-day! Presented! How strange!'
+
+'So every one thinks; one of the strangest things that ever happened,'
+remarked a bystander.
+
+'And I did not even know they were in town,' continued Cadurcis, for,
+from his irregular hours, he had not seen his cousin since the party
+of yesterday. He began walking up and down the room, muttering,
+'Masham, Weymouth, London, presented at Court, and I know nothing. How
+life changes! Venetia at Court, my Venetia!' Then turning round and
+addressing the young nobleman who had first spoken to him, he asked
+'if the ball were over.'
+
+'Yes; all the world are going to Ranelagh. Are you inclined to take a
+round?'
+
+'I have a strange fancy,' said Cadurcis, 'and if you will go with me,
+I will take you in my vis-a-vis. It is here.'
+
+This was an irresistible invitation, and in a few minutes the
+companions were on their way; Cadurcis, apparently with no peculiar
+interest in the subject, leading the conversation very artfully to
+the presentation of Miss Herbert. His friend was heartily inclined to
+gratify his curiosity. He gave him ample details of Miss Herbert's
+person: even of her costume, and the sensation both produced; how she
+was presented by her mother, who, after so long an estrangement from
+the world, scarcely excited less impression, and the remarkable
+cordiality with which both mother and daughter were greeted by the
+sovereign and his royal consort.
+
+The two young noblemen found Ranelagh crowded, but the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis occasioned a sensation the moment he was recognised.
+Everywhere the whisper went round, and many parties crowded near to
+catch a glimpse of the hero of the day. 'Which is he? That fair,
+tall young man? No, the other to be sure. Is it really he? How
+distinguished! How melancholy! Quite the poet. Do you think he is
+really so unhappy as he looks? I would sooner see him than the King
+and Queen. He seems very young, but then he has seen so much of the
+world! Fine eyes, beautiful hair! I wonder who is his friend? How
+proud he must be! Who is that lady he bowed to? That is the Duke
+of ---- speaking to him,' Such were the remarks that might be caught in
+the vicinity of Lord Cadurcis as he took his round, gazed at by the
+assembled crowd, of whom many knew him only by fame, for the charm of
+Ranelagh was that it was rather a popular than a merely fashionable
+assembly. Society at large blended with the Court, which maintained
+and renewed its influence by being witnessed under the most graceful
+auspices. The personal authority of the aristocracy has decreased with
+the disappearance of Ranelagh and similar places of amusement, where
+rank was not exclusive, and luxury by the gratification it occasioned
+others seemed robbed of half its selfism.
+
+In his second round, Lord Cadurcis recognised the approach of the
+Herberts. They formed the portion of a large party. Lady Annabel was
+leaning on her brother, whom Cadurcis knew by sight; Venetia was at
+the side of her aunt, and several gentlemen were hovering about them;
+among them, to his surprise, his cousin, George Cadurcis, in his
+uniform, for he had been to Court and to the Court Ball. Venetia was
+talking with animation. She was in her Court dress and in powder. Her
+appearance was strange to him. He could scarcely recognise the
+friend of his childhood; but without any doubt in all that assembly,
+unrivalled in the whole world for beauty, grace, and splendour, she
+was without a parallel; a cynosure on which all eyes were fixed.
+
+So occupied were the ladies of the Herbert party by the conversation
+of their numerous and brilliant attendants, that the approach of any
+one else but Lord Cadurcis might have been unnoticed by them, but
+a hundred tongues before he drew nigh had prepared Venetia for his
+appearance. She was indeed most anxious to behold him, and though she
+was aware that her heart fluttered not slightly as the moment was at
+hand, she commanded her gaze, and her eyes met his, although she was
+doubtful whether he might choose or care to recognise her. He bowed
+almost to the ground; and when Venetia had raised her responsive head
+he had passed by.
+
+'Why, Cadurcis, you know Miss Herbert?' said his friend in a tone of
+some astonishment.
+
+'Well; but it is a long time since I have seen her.'
+
+'Is she not beautiful?'
+
+'I never doubted on that subject; I tell you, Scrope, we must contrive
+to join her party. I wish we had some of our friends among them. Here
+comes the Monteagle; aid me to escape her.'
+
+The most fascinating smile failed in arresting the progress of
+Cadurcis; fortunately, the lady was the centre of a brilliant band;
+all that he had to do, therefore, was boldly to proceed.
+
+'Do you think my cousin is altered since you knew him?' inquired
+George Cadurcis of Venetia.
+
+'I scarcely had time to observe him,' she replied.
+
+'I wish you would let me bring him to you. He did not know until this
+moment you were in town. I have not seen him since we met yesterday.'
+
+'Oh, no,' said Venetia. 'Do not disturb him.'
+
+In time, however, Lord Cadurcis was again in sight; and now without
+any hesitation he stopped, and falling into the line by Miss Herbert,
+he addressed her: 'I am proud of being remembered by Miss Herbert,' he
+said.
+
+'I am most happy to meet you,' replied Venetia, with unaffected
+sincerity.
+
+'And Lady Annabel, I have not been able to catch her eye: is she quite
+well? I was ignorant that you were in London until I heard of your
+triumph this night.'
+
+The Countess whispered her niece, and Venetia accordingly presented
+Lord Cadurcis to her aunt. This was a most gratifying circumstance to
+him. He was anxious, by some means or other, to effect his entrance
+into her circle; and he had an irresistible suspicion that Lady
+Annabel no longer looked upon him with eyes of favour. So he resolved
+to enlist the aunt as his friend. Few persons could be more winning
+than Cadurcis, when he willed it; and every attempt to please from one
+whom all emulated to gratify and honour, was sure to be successful.
+The Countess, who, in spite of politics, was a secret votary of his,
+was quite prepared to be enchanted. She congratulated herself
+on forming, as she had long wished, an acquaintance with one so
+celebrated. She longed to pass Lady Monteagle in triumph. Cadurcis
+improved his opportunity to the utmost. It was impossible for any
+one to be more engaging; lively, yet at the same time gentle, and
+deferential with all his originality. He spoke, indeed, more to the
+aunt than to Venetia, but when he addressed the latter, there was
+a melting, almost a mournful tenderness in his tones, that alike
+affected her heart and charmed her imagination. Nor could she be
+insensible to the gratification she experienced as she witnessed,
+every instant, the emotion his presence excited among the passers-by,
+and of which Cadurcis himself seemed so properly and so utterly
+unconscious. And this was Plantagenet!
+
+Lord Cadurcis spoke of his cousin, who, on his joining the party, had
+assisted the arrangement by moving to the other side; and he spoke of
+him with a regard which pleased Venetia, though Cadurcis envied him
+his good fortune in having the advantage of a prior acquaintance
+with Miss Herbert in town; 'but then we are old acquaintances in the
+country,' he added, half in a playful, half in a melancholy tone, 'are
+we not?'
+
+'It is a long time that we have known each other, and it is a long
+time since we have met,' replied Venetia.
+
+'A delicate reproach,' said Cadurcis; 'but perhaps rather my
+misfortune than my fault. My thoughts have been often, I might say
+ever, at Cherbury.'
+
+'And the abbey; have you forgotten the abbey?'
+
+'I have never been near it since a morning you perhaps remember,' said
+his lordship in a low voice. 'Ah! Miss Herbert,' he continued, with
+a sigh, 'I was young then; I have lived to change many opinions, and
+some of which you then disapproved.'
+
+The party stopped at a box just vacant, and in which the ladies seated
+themselves while their carriages were inquired for. Lord Cadurcis,
+with a rather faltering heart, went up to pay his respects to
+Venetia's mother. Lady Annabel received him with a courtesy, that
+however was scarcely cordial, but the Countess instantly presented
+him to her husband with an unction which a little astonished her
+sister-in-law. Then a whisper, but unobserved, passed between the Earl
+and his lady, and in a minute Lord Cadurcis had been invited to dine
+with them on the next day, and meet his old friends from the country.
+Cadurcis was previously engaged, but hesitated not a moment in
+accepting the invitation. The Monteagle party now passed by; the
+lady looked a little surprised at the company in which she found her
+favourite, and not a little mortified by his neglect. What business
+had Cadurcis to be speaking to that Miss Herbert? Was it not enough
+that the whole day not another name had scarcely crossed her ear, but
+the night must even witness the conquest of Lord Cadurcis by the
+new beauty? It was such bad ton, it was so unlike him, it was so
+underbred, for a person of his position immediately to bow before the
+new idol of the hour, and a Tory girl too! It was the last thing
+she could have expected from him. She should, on the contrary,
+have thought that the universal admiration which this Miss Herbert
+commanded, would have been exactly the reason why a man like Cadurcis
+would have seemed almost unconscious of her existence. She determined
+to remonstrate with him; and she was sure of a speedy opportunity, for
+he was to dine with her on the morrow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Notwithstanding Lady Annabel's reserved demeanour, Lord Cadurcis,
+supported by the presence of his cousin, whom he had discovered to be
+a favourite of that lady, ventured to call upon her the next day, but
+she was out. They were to meet, however, at dinner, where Cadurcis
+determined to omit no opportunity to propitiate her. The Countess had
+a great deal of tact, and she contrived to make up a party to receive
+him, in which there were several of his friends, among them his cousin
+and the Bishop of----, and no strangers who were not, like herself,
+his great admirers; but if she had known more, she need not have given
+herself this trouble, for there was a charm among her guests of which
+she was ignorant, and Cadurcis went determined to please and to be
+pleased.
+
+At dinner he was seated next to Lady Annabel, and it was impossible
+for any person to be more deferential, soft, and insinuating. He spoke
+of old days with emotion which he did not attempt to suppress; he
+alluded to the present with infinite delicacy. But it was very
+difficult to make way. Lady Annabel was courteous, but she was
+reserved. His lively reminiscences elicited from her no corresponding
+sentiment; and no art would induce her to dwell upon the present. If
+she only would have condescended to compliment him, it would have
+given him an opportunity of expressing his distaste of the life which
+he now led, and a description of the only life which he wished to
+lead; but Lady Annabel studiously avoided affording him any opening
+of the kind. She treated him like a stranger. She impressed upon him
+without effort that she would only consider him an acquaintance. How
+Cadurcis, satiated with the incense of the whole world, sighed for one
+single congratulation from Lady Annabel! Nothing could move her.
+
+'I was so surprised to meet you last night,' at length he again
+observed. 'I have made so many inquiries after you. Our dear friend
+the Bishop was, I fear, almost wearied with my inquiries after
+Cherbury. I know not how it was, I felt quite a pang when I heard that
+you had left it, and that all these years, when I have been conjuring
+up so many visions of what was passing under that dear roof, you were
+at Weymouth.'
+
+'Yes. We were at Weymouth some time.'
+
+'But do not you long to see Cherbury again? I cannot tell you how
+I pant for it. For my part, I have seen the world, and I have seen
+enough of it. After all, the end of all our exertions is to be happy
+at home; that is the end of everything; don't you think so?'
+
+'A happy home is certainly a great blessing,' replied Lady Annabel;
+'and a rare one.'
+
+'But why should it be rare?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is our own fault,' said Lady Annabel; 'our vanity drives us from
+our hearths.'
+
+'But we soon return again, and calm and cooled. For my part, I have no
+object in life but to settle down at the old abbey, and never to quit
+again our woods. But I shall lead a dull life without my neighbours,'
+he added, with a smile, and in a tone half-coaxing.
+
+'I suppose you never see Lord ---- now?' said Lady Annabel, mentioning
+his late guardian. There was, as Cadurcis fancied, some sarcasm in the
+question, though not in the tone in which it was asked.
+
+'No, I never see him,' his lordship answered firmly; 'we differ in our
+opinions, and I differ from him with regret; but I differ from a sense
+of duty, and therefore I have no alternative.'
+
+'The claims of duty are of course paramount,' observed Lady Annabel.
+
+'You know my cousin?' said Cadurcis, to turn the conversation.
+
+'Yes, and I like him much; he appears to be a sensible, amiable
+person, of excellent principles.'
+
+'I am not bound to admire George's principles,' said Lord
+Cadurcis, gaily; 'but I respect them, because I know that they are
+conscientious. I love George; he is my only relation, and he is my
+friend.'
+
+'I trust he will always be your friend, for I think you will then, at
+least, know one person on whom you can depend.'
+
+'I believe it. The friendships of the world are wind.'
+
+'I am surprised to hear you say so,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Why, Lady Annabel?'
+
+'You have so many friends.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis smiled. 'I wish,' he said, after a little hesitation,
+'if only for "Auld lang syne," I might include Lady Annabel Herbert
+among them.'
+
+'I do not think there is any basis for friendship between us, my
+lord,' she said, very dryly.
+
+'The past must ever be with me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I should
+have thought a sure and solid one.'
+
+'Our opinions on all subjects are so adverse, that I must believe that
+there could be no great sympathy in our feelings.'
+
+'My feelings are beyond my control,' he replied; 'they are, and must
+ever be, totally independent of my opinions.'
+
+Lady Annabel did not reply. His lordship felt baffled, but he was
+resolved to make one more effort.
+
+'Do you know,' he said, 'I can scarcely believe myself in London
+to-day? To be sitting next to you, to see Miss Herbert, to hear Dr.
+Masham's voice. Oh! does it not recall Cherbury, or Marringhurst, or
+that day at Cadurcis, when you were so good as to smile over my rough
+repast? Ah! Lady Annabel, those days were happy! those were feelings
+that can never die! All the glitter and hubbub of the world can never
+make me forget them, can never make you, I hope, Lady Annabel, quite
+recall them with an effort. We were friends then: let us be friends
+now.'
+
+'I am too old to cultivate new friendships,' said Lady Annabel; 'and
+if we are to be friends, Lord Cadurcis, I am sorry to say that, after
+the interval that has occurred since we last parted, we should have to
+begin again.'
+
+'It is a long time,' said Cadurcis, mournfully, 'a very long time, and
+one, in spite of what the world may think, to which I cannot look back
+with any self-congratulation. I wished three years ago never to leave
+Cadurcis again. Indeed I did; and indeed it was not my fault that I
+quitted it.'
+
+'It was no one's fault, I hope. Whatever the cause may have been, I
+have ever remained quite ignorant of it. I wished, and wish, to
+remain ignorant of it. I, for one, have ever considered it the wise
+dispensation of a merciful Providence.'
+
+Cadurcis ground his teeth; a dark look came over him which, when
+once it rose on his brow, was with difficulty dispelled; and for the
+remainder of the dinner he continued silent and gloomy.
+
+He was, however, not unobserved by Venetia. She had watched his
+evident attempts to conciliate her mother with lively interest; she
+had witnessed their failure with sincere sorrow. In spite of that
+stormy interview, the results of which, in his hasty departure, and
+the severance of their acquaintance, she had often regretted, she had
+always retained for him the greatest affection. During these three
+years he had still, in her inmost heart, remained her own Plantagenet,
+her adopted brother, whom she loved, and in whose welfare her feelings
+were deeply involved. The mysterious circumstances of her birth, and
+the discoveries to which they had led, had filled her mind with a
+fanciful picture of human nature, over which she had long brooded. A
+great poet had become her ideal of a man. Sometimes she had sighed,
+when musing over her father and Plantagenet on the solitary seashore
+at Weymouth, that Cadurcis, instead of being the merely amiable, and
+somewhat narrow-minded being that she supposed, had not been invested
+with those brilliant and commanding qualities which she felt could
+alone master her esteem. Often had she, in those abstracted hours,
+played with her imagination in combining the genius of her father with
+the soft heart of that friend to whom she was so deeply attached. She
+had wished, in her reveries, that Cadurcis might have been a great
+man; that he might have existed in an atmosphere of glory amid the
+plaudits and admiration of his race; and that then he might have
+turned from all that fame, so dear to them both, to the heart which
+could alone sympathise with the native simplicity of his childhood.
+
+The ladies withdrew. The Bishop and another of the guests joined them
+after a short interval. The rest remained below, and drank their wine
+with the freedom not unusual in those days, Lord Cadurcis among them,
+although it was not his habit. But he was not convivial, though he
+never passed the bottle untouched. He was in one of those dark humours
+of which there was a latent spring in his nature, but which in old
+days had been kept in check by his simple life, his inexperienced
+mind, and the general kindness that greeted him, and which nothing but
+the caprice and perversity of his mother could occasionally develope.
+But since the great revolution in his position, since circumstances
+had made him alike acquainted with his nature, and had brought all
+society to acknowledge its superiority; since he had gained and felt
+his irresistible power, and had found all the world, and all the
+glory of it, at his feet, these moods had become more frequent. The
+slightest reaction in the self-complacency that was almost unceasingly
+stimulated by the applause of applauded men and the love of the
+loveliest women, instantly took the shape and found refuge in the
+immediate form of the darkest spleen, generally, indeed, brooding in
+silence, and, if speaking, expressing itself only in sarcasm. Cadurcis
+was indeed, as we have already described him, the spoiled child of
+society; a froward and petted darling, not always to be conciliated by
+kindness, but furious when neglected or controlled. He was habituated
+to triumph; it had been his lot to come, to see, and to conquer; even
+the procrastination of certain success was intolerable to him; his
+energetic volition could not endure a check. To Lady Annabel Herbert,
+indeed, he was not exactly what he was to others; there was a spell
+in old associations from which he unconsciously could not emancipate
+himself, and from which it was his opinion he honoured her in not
+desiring to be free. He had his reasons for wishing to regain his old,
+his natural influence, over her heart; he did not doubt for an instant
+that, if Cadurcis sued, success must follow the condescending effort.
+He had sued, and he had been met with coldness, almost with disdain.
+He had addressed her in those terms of tenderness which experience
+had led him to believe were irresistible, yet to which he seldom had
+recourse, for hitherto he had not been under the degrading necessity
+of courting. He had dwelt with fondness on the insignificant past,
+because it was connected with her; he had regretted, or affected
+even to despise, the glorious present, because it seemed, for some
+indefinite cause, to have estranged him from her hearth. Yes! he had
+humbled himself before her; he had thrown with disdain at her feet all
+that dazzling fame and expanding glory which seemed his peculiar and
+increasing privilege. He had delicately conveyed to her that even
+these would be sacrificed, not only without a sigh, but with cheerful
+delight, to find himself once more living, as of old, in the limited
+world of her social affections. Three years ago he had been rejected
+by the daughter, because he was an undistinguished youth. Now the
+mother recoiled from his fame. And who was this woman? The same cold,
+stern heart that had alienated the gifted Herbert; the same narrow,
+rigid mind that had repudiated ties that every other woman in the
+world would have gloried to cherish and acknowledge. And with her he
+had passed his prejudiced youth, and fancied, like an idiot, that he
+had found sympathy! Yes, so long as he was a slave, a mechanical,
+submissive slave, bowing his mind to all the traditionary bigotry
+which she adored, never daring to form an opinion for himself,
+worshipping her idol, custom, and labouring by habitual hypocrisy to
+perpetuate the delusions of all around her!
+
+In the meantime, while Lord Cadurcis was chewing the cud of these
+bitter feelings, we will take the opportunity of explaining the
+immediate cause of Lady Annabel's frigid reception of his friendly
+advances. All that she had heard of Cadurcis, all the information she
+had within these few days so rapidly acquired of his character and
+conduct, were indeed not calculated to dispose her to witness the
+renewal of their intimacy with feelings of remarkable satisfaction.
+But this morning she had read his poem, the poem that all London was
+talking of, and she had read it with horror. She looked upon Cadurcis
+as a lost man. With her, indeed, since her marriage, an imaginative
+mind had become an object of terror; but there were some peculiarities
+in the tone of Cadurcis' genius, which magnified to excess her general
+apprehension on this head. She traced, in every line, the evidences
+of a raging vanity, which she was convinced must prompt its owner
+to sacrifice, on all occasions, every feeling of duty to its
+gratification. Amid all the fervour of rebellious passions, and the
+violence of a wayward mind, a sentiment of profound egotism appeared
+to her impressed on every page she perused. Great as might have been
+the original errors of Herbert, awful as in her estimation were the
+crimes to which they had led him, they might in the first instance be
+traced rather to a perverted view of society than of himself. But self
+was the idol of Cadurcis; self distorted into a phantom that seemed
+to Lady Annabel pregnant not only with terrible crimes, but with the
+basest and most humiliating vices. The certain degradation which in
+the instance of her husband had been the consequence of a bad system,
+would, in her opinion, in the case of Cadurcis, be the result of a
+bad nature; and when she called to mind that there had once been a
+probability that this individual might have become the husband of her
+Venetia, her child whom it had been the sole purpose of her life to
+save from the misery of which she herself had been the victim; that
+she had even dwelt on the idea with complacency, encouraged its
+progress, regretted its abrupt termination, but consoled herself by
+the flattering hope that time, with even more favourable auspices,
+would mature it into fulfilment; she trembled, and turned pale.
+
+It was to the Bishop that, after dinner, Lady Annabel expressed some
+of the feelings which the reappearance of Cadurcis had occasioned her.
+
+'I see nothing but misery for his future,' she exclaimed; 'I tremble
+for him when he addresses me. In spite of the glittering surface on
+which he now floats, I foresee only a career of violence, degradation,
+and remorse.'
+
+'He is a problem difficult to solve,' replied Masham; 'but there are
+elements not only in his character, but his career, so different from
+those of the person of whom we were speaking, that I am not inclined
+at once to admit, that the result must necessarily be the same.'
+
+'I see none,' replied Lady Annabel; 'at least none of sufficient
+influence to work any material change.'
+
+'What think you of his success?' replied Masham. 'Cadurcis is
+evidently proud of it. With all his affected scorn of the world, he
+is the slave of society. He may pique the feelings of mankind, but I
+doubt whether he will outrage them.'
+
+'He is on such a dizzy eminence,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that I do not
+believe he is capable of calculating so finely. He does not believe, I
+am sure, in the possibility of resistance. His vanity will tempt him
+onwards.'
+
+'Not to persecution,' said Masham. 'Now, my opinion of Cadurcis is,
+that his egotism, or selfism, or whatever you may style it, will
+ultimately preserve him from any very fatal, from any irrecoverable
+excesses. He is of the world, worldly. All his works, all his conduct,
+tend only to astonish mankind. He is not prompted by any visionary
+ideas of ameliorating his species. The instinct of self-preservation
+will serve him as ballast.'
+
+'We shall see,' said Lady Annabel; 'for myself, whatever may be his
+end, I feel assured that great and disgraceful vicissitudes are in
+store for him.'
+
+'It is strange after what, in comparison with such extraordinary
+changes, must be esteemed so brief an interval,' observed Masham, with
+a smile, 'to witness such a revolution in his position. I often think
+to myself, can this indeed be our little Plantagenet?'
+
+'It is awful!' said Lady Annabel; 'much more than strange. For myself,
+when I recall certain indications of his feelings when he was last at
+Cadurcis, and think for a moment of the results to which they might
+have led, I shiver; I assure you, my dear lord, I tremble from head to
+foot. And I encouraged him! I smiled with fondness on his feelings! I
+thought I was securing the peaceful happiness of my child! What can we
+trust to in this world! It is too dreadful to dwell upon! It must have
+been an interposition of Providence that Venetia escaped.'
+
+'Dear little Venetia,' exclaimed the good Bishop; 'for I believe I
+shall call her little Venetia to the day of my death. How well she
+looks to-night! Her aunt is, I think, very fond of her! See!'
+
+'Yes, it pleases me,' said Lady Annabel; but I do wish my sister was
+not such an admirer of Lord Cadurcis' poems. You cannot conceive how
+uneasy it makes me. I am quite annoyed that he was asked here to-day.
+Why ask him?'
+
+'Oh! there is no harm,' said Masham; 'you must forget the past. By all
+accounts, Cadurcis is not a marrying man. Indeed, as I understood,
+marriage with him is at present quite out of the question. And as for
+Venetia, she rejected him before, and she will, if necessary, reject
+him again. He has been a brother to her, and after that he can be no
+more. Girls never fall in love with those with whom they are bred up.'
+
+'I hope, I believe there is no occasion for apprehension,' replied
+Lady Annabel; 'indeed, it has scarcely entered my head. The very
+charms he once admired in Venetia can have no sway over him, as
+I should think, now. I should believe him as little capable of
+appreciating Venetia now, as he was when last at Cherbury, of
+anticipating the change in his own character.'
+
+'You mean opinions, my dear lady, for characters never change. Believe
+me, Cadurcis is radically the same as in old days. Circumstances have
+only developed his latent predisposition.'
+
+'Not changed, my dear lord! what, that innocent, sweet-tempered,
+docile child--'
+
+'Hush! here he comes.'
+
+The Earl and his guests entered the room; a circle was formed round
+Lady Annabel; some evening visitors arrived; there was singing. It had
+not been the intention of Lord Cadurcis to return to the drawing-room
+after his rebuff by Lady Annabel; he had meditated making his peace at
+Monteagle House; but when the moment of his projected departure had
+arrived, he could not resist the temptation of again seeing Venetia.
+He entered the room last, and some moments after his companions. Lady
+Annabel, who watched the general entrance, concluded he had gone, and
+her attention was now fully engaged. Lord Cadurcis remained at the
+end of the room alone, apparently abstracted, and looking far from
+amiable; but his eye, in reality, was watching Venetia. Suddenly her
+aunt approached her, and invited the lady who was conversing with Miss
+Herbert to sing; Lord Cadurcis immediately advanced, and took her
+seat. Venetia was surprised that for the first time in her life
+with Plantagenet she felt embarrassed. She had met his look when he
+approached her, and had welcomed, or, at least, intended to welcome
+him with a smile, but she was at a loss for words; she was haunted
+with the recollection of her mother's behaviour to him at dinner, and
+she looked down on the ground, far from being at ease.
+
+'Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+She started.
+
+'We are alone,' he said; 'let me call you Venetia when we are alone.'
+
+She did not, she could not reply; she felt confused; the blood rose to
+her cheek.
+
+'How changed is everything!' continued Cadurcis. 'To think the day
+should ever arrive when I should have to beg your permission to call
+you Venetia!'
+
+She looked up; she met his glance. It was mournful; nay, his eyes were
+suffused with tears. She saw at her side the gentle and melancholy
+Plantagenet of her childhood.
+
+'I cannot speak; I am agitated at meeting you,' she said with her
+native frankness. 'It is so long since we have been alone; and, as you
+say, all is so changed.'
+
+'But are you changed, Venetia?' he said in a voice of emotion; 'for
+all other change is nothing.'
+
+'I meet you with pleasure,' she replied; 'I hear of your fame with
+pride. You cannot suppose that it is possible I should cease to be
+interested in your welfare.'
+
+'Your mother does not meet me with pleasure; she hears of nothing
+that has occurred to me with pride; your mother has ceased to take an
+interest in my welfare; and why should you be unchanged?'
+
+'You mistake my mother.'
+
+'No, no,' replied Cadurcis, shaking his head, 'I have read her inmost
+soul to-day. Your mother hates me; me, whom she once styled her son.
+She was a mother once to me, and you were my sister. If I have lost
+her heart, why have I not lost yours?'
+
+'My heart, if you care for it, is unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'O Venetia, whatever you may think, I never wanted the solace of a
+sister's love more than I do at this moment.'
+
+'I pledged my affection to you when we were children,' replied
+Venetia; 'you have done nothing to forfeit it, and it is yours still.'
+
+'When we were children,' said Cadurcis, musingly; 'when we were
+innocent; when we were happy. You, at least, are innocent still; are
+you happy, Venetia?'
+
+'Life has brought sorrows even to me, Plantagenet.'
+
+The blood deserted his heart when she called him Plantagenet; he
+breathed with difficulty.
+
+'When I last returned to Cherbury,' he said, 'you told me you were
+changed, Venetia; you revealed to me on another occasion the secret
+cause of your affliction. I was a boy then, a foolish ignorant boy.
+Instead of sympathising with your heartfelt anxiety, my silly vanity
+was offended by feelings I should have shared, and soothed, and
+honoured. Ah, Venetia! well had it been for one of us that I had
+conducted myself more kindly, more wisely.'
+
+'Nay, Plantagenet, believe me, I remember that interview only to
+regret it. The recollection of it has always occasioned me great
+grief. We were both to blame; but we were both children then. We must
+pardon each other's faults.'
+
+'You will hear, that is, if you care to listen, Venetia, much of my
+conduct and opinions,' continued Lord Cadurcis, 'that may induce you
+to believe me headstrong and capricious. Perhaps I am less of both in
+all things than the world imagines. But of this be certain, that my
+feelings towards you have never changed, whatever you may permit them
+to be; and if some of my boyish judgments have, as was but natural,
+undergone some transformation, be you, my sweet friend, in some degree
+consoled for the inconsistency, since I have at length learned duly to
+appreciate one of whom we then alike knew little, but whom a natural
+inspiration taught you, at least, justly to appreciate: I need not say
+I mean the illustrious father of your being.'
+
+Venetia could not restrain her tears; she endeavoured to conceal her
+agitated countenance behind the fan with which she was fortunately
+provided.
+
+'To me a forbidden subject,' said Venetia, 'at least with them I could
+alone converse upon it, but one that my mind never deserts.'
+
+'O Venetia!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'would we were both
+with him!'
+
+'A wild thought,' she murmured, 'and one I must not dwell upon.'
+
+'We shall meet, I hope,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'we must meet, meet
+often. I called upon your mother to-day, fruitlessly. You must attempt
+to conciliate her. Why should we be parted? We, at least, are friends,
+and more than friends. I cannot exist unless we meet, and meet with
+the frankness of old days.'
+
+'I think you mistake mamma; I think you may, indeed. Remember how
+lately she has met you, and after how long an interval! A little time,
+and she will resume her former feelings, and believe that you have
+never forfeited yours. Besides, we have friends, mutual friends. My
+aunt admires you, and here I naturally must be a great deal. And the
+Bishop, he still loves you; that I am sure he does: and your cousin,
+mamma likes your cousin. I am sure if you can manage only to be
+patient, if you will only attempt to conciliate a little, all will be
+as before. Remember, too, how changed your position is,' Venetia added
+with a smile; 'you allow me to forget you are a great man, but mamma
+is naturally restrained by all this wonderful revolution. When she
+finds that you really are the Lord Cadurcis whom she knew such a very
+little boy, the Lord Cadurcis who, without her aid, would never have
+been able even to write his fine poems, oh! she must love you again.
+How can she help it?'
+
+Cadurcis smiled. 'We shall see,' he said. 'In the meantime do not you
+desert me, Venetia.'
+
+'That is impossible,' she replied; 'the happiest of my days have been
+passed with you. You remember the inscription on the jewel? I shall
+keep to my vows.'
+
+'That was a very good inscription so far as it went,' said Cadurcis;
+and then, as if a little alarmed at his temerity, he changed the
+subject.
+
+'Do you know,' said Venetia, after a pause, 'I am treating you all
+this time as a poet, merely in deference to public opinion. Not a line
+have I been permitted to read; but I am resolved to rebel, and you
+must arrange it all.'
+
+'Ah!' said the enraptured Cadurcis; 'this is fame!'
+
+At this moment the Countess approached them, and told Venetia that
+her mother wished to speak to her. Lady Annabel had discovered the
+tete-a-tete, and resolved instantly to terminate it. Lord Cadurcis,
+however, who was quick as lightning, read all that was necessary in
+Venetia's look. Instead of instantly retiring, he remained some little
+time longer, talked to the Countess, who was perfectly enchanted with
+him, even sauntered up to the singers, and complimented them, and did
+not make his bow until he had convinced at least the mistress of the
+mansion, if not her sister-in-law, that it was not Venetia Herbert who
+was his principal attraction in this agreeable society.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+The moment he had quitted Venetia, Lord Cadurcis returned home. He
+could not endure the usual routine of gaiety after her society; and
+his coachman, often waiting until five o'clock in the morning at
+Monteagle House, could scarcely assure himself of his good fortune
+in this exception to his accustomed trial of patience. The vis-a-vis
+stopped, and Lord Cadurcis bounded out with a light step and a lighter
+heart. His table was covered with letters. The first one that caught
+his eye was a missive from Lady Monteagle. Cadurcis seized it like a
+wild animal darting on its prey, tore it in half without opening it,
+and, grasping the poker, crammed it with great energy into the fire.
+This exploit being achieved, Cadurcis began walking up and down the
+room; and indeed he paced it for nearly a couple of hours in a deep
+reverie, and evidently under a considerable degree of excitement, for
+his gestures were violent, and his voice often audible. At length,
+about an hour after midnight, he rang for his valet, tore off his
+cravat, and hurled it to one corner of the apartment, called for his
+robe de chambre, soda water, and more lights, seated himself, and
+began pouring forth, faster almost than his pen could trace the words,
+the poem that he had been meditating ever since he had quitted the
+roof where he had met Venetia. She had expressed a wish to read his
+poems; he had resolved instantly to compose one for her solitary
+perusal Thus he relieved his heart:
+
+  I.
+
+  Within a cloistered pile, whose Gothic towers
+  Rose by the margin of a sedgy lake,
+  Embosomed in a valley of green bowers,
+  And girt by many a grove and ferny brake
+  Loved by the antlered deer, a tender youth
+  Whom Time to childhood's gentle sway of love
+  Still spared; yet innocent as is the dove,
+  Nor mounded yet by Care's relentless tooth;
+  Stood musing, of that fair antique domain
+  The orphan lord! And yet, no childish thought
+  With wayward purpose holds its transient reign
+  In his young mind, with deeper feelings fraught;
+  Then mystery all to him, and yet a dream,
+  That Time has touched with its revealing beam.
+
+  II.
+
+  There came a maiden to that lonely boy,
+  And like to him as is the morn to night;
+  Her sunny face a very type of joy,
+  And with her soul's unclouded lustre bright.
+  Still scantier summers had her brow illumed
+  Than that on which she threw a witching smile,
+  Unconscious of the spell that could beguile
+  His being of the burthen it was doomed
+  By his ancestral blood to bear: a spirit,
+  Rife with desponding thoughts and fancies drear,
+  A moody soul that men sometimes inherit,
+  And worse than all the woes the world may bear.
+  But when he met that maiden's dazzling eye,
+  He bade each gloomy image baffled fly.
+
+  III.
+
+  Amid the shady woods and sunny lawns
+  The maiden and the youth now wander, gay
+  As the bright birds, and happy as the fawns,
+  Their sportive rivals, that around them play;
+  Their light hands linked in love, the golden hours
+  Unconscious fly, while thus they graceful roam,
+  And careless ever till the voice of home
+  Recalled them from their sunshine find their flowers;
+  For then they parted: to his lonely pile
+  The orphan-chief, for though his woe to lull,
+  The maiden called him brother, her fond smile
+  Gladdened another hearth, while his was dull
+  Yet as they parted, she reproved his sadness,
+  And for his sake she gaily whispered gladness.
+
+  IV.
+
+  She was the daughter of a noble race,
+  That beauteous girl, and yet she owed her name
+  To one who needs no herald's skill to trace
+  His blazoned lineage, for his lofty fame
+  Lives in the mouth of men, and distant climes
+  Re-echo his wide glory; where the brave
+  Are honoured, where 'tis noble deemed to save
+  A prostrate nation, and for future times
+  Work with a high devotion, that no taunt,
+  Or ribald lie, or zealot's eager curse,
+  Or the short-sighted world's neglect can daunt,
+  That name is worshipped! His immortal verse
+  Blends with his god-like deeds, a double spell
+  To bind the coming age he loved too well!
+
+  V.
+
+  For, from his ancient home, a scatterling,
+  They drove him forth, unconscious of their prize,
+  And branded as a vile unhallowed thing,
+  The man who struggled only to be wise.
+  And even his hearth rebelled, the duteous wife,
+  Whose bosom well might soothe in that dark hour,
+  Swelled with her gentle force the world's harsh power,
+  And aimed her dart at his devoted life.
+  That struck; the rest his mighty soul might scorn,
+  But when his household gods averted stood,
+  'Twas the last pang that cannot well be borne
+  When tortured e'en to torpor: his heart's blood
+  Flowed to the unseen blow: then forth he went,
+  And gloried in his ruthless banishment.
+
+  VI.
+
+  A new-born pledge of love within his home,
+  His alien home, the exiled father left;
+  And when, like Cain, he wandered forth to roam,
+  A Cain without his solace, all bereft,
+  Stole down his pallid cheek the scalding tear,
+  To think a stranger to his tender love
+  His child must grow, untroubled where might rove
+  His restless life, or taught perchance to fear
+  Her father's name, and bred in sullen hate,
+  Shrink from his image. Thus the gentle maid,
+  Who with her smiles had soothed an orphan's fate,
+  Had felt an orphan's pang; yet undismayed,
+  Though taught to deem her sire the child of shame,
+  She clung with instinct to that reverent name!
+
+  VII.
+
+  Time flew; the boy became a man; no more
+  His shadow falls upon his cloistered hall,
+  But to a stirring world he learn'd to pour
+  The passion of his being, skilled to call
+  From the deep caverns of his musing thought
+  Shadows to which they bowed, and on their mind
+  To stamp the image of his own; the wind,
+  Though all unseen, with force or odour fraught,
+  Can sway mankind, and thus a poet's voice,
+  Now touched with sweetness, now inflamed with rage,
+  Though breath, can make us grieve and then rejoice:
+  Such is the spell of his creative page,
+  That blends with all our moods; and thoughts can yield
+  That all have felt, and yet till then were sealed.
+
+  VIII.
+
+  The lute is sounding in a chamber bright
+  With a high festival; on every side,
+  Soft in the gleamy blaze of mellowed light,
+  Fair women smile, and dancers graceful glide;
+  And words still sweeter than a serenade
+  Are breathed with guarded voice and speaking eyes,
+  By joyous hearts in spite of all their sighs;
+  But byegone fantasies that ne'er can fade
+  Retain the pensive spirit of the youth;
+  Reclined against a column he surveys
+  His laughing compeers with a glance, in sooth,
+  Careless of all their mirth: for other days
+  Enchain him with their vision, the bright hours
+  Passed with the maiden in their sunny bowers.
+
+  IX.
+
+  Why turns his brow so pale, why starts to life
+  That languid eye? What form before unseen,
+  With all the spells of hallowed memory rife,
+  Now rises on his vision? As the Queen
+  Of Beauty from her bed of sparkling foam
+  Sprang to the azure light, and felt the air,
+  Soft as her cheek, the wavy dancers bear
+  To his rapt sight a mien that calls his home,
+  His cloistered home, before him, with his dreams
+  Prophetic strangely blending. The bright muse
+  Of his dark childhood still divinely beams
+  Upon his being; glowing with the hues
+  That painters love, when raptured pencils soar
+  To trace a form that nations may adore!
+
+  X.
+
+  One word alone, within her thrilling ear,
+  Breathed with hushed voice the brother of her heart,
+  And that for aye is hidden. With a tear
+  Smiling she strove to conquer, see her start,
+  The bright blood rising to her quivering cheek,
+  And meet the glance she hastened once to greet,
+  When not a thought had he, save in her sweet
+  And solacing society; to seek
+  Her smiles his only life! Ah! happy prime
+  Of cloudless purity, no stormy fame
+  His unknown sprite then stirred, a golden time
+  Worth all the restless splendour of a name;
+  And one soft accent from those gentle lips
+  Might all the plaudits of a world eclipse.
+
+  XI.
+
+  My tale is done; and if some deem it strange
+  My fancy thus should droop, deign then to learn
+  My tale is truth: imagination's range
+  Its bounds exact may touch not: to discern
+  Far stranger things than poets ever feign,
+  In life's perplexing annals, is the fate
+  Of those who act, and musing, penetrate
+  The mystery of Fortune: to whose reign
+  The haughtiest brow must bend; 'twas passing strange
+  The youth of these fond children; strange the flush
+  Of his high fortunes and his spirit's change;
+  Strange was the maiden's tear, the maiden's blush;
+  Strange were his musing thoughts and trembling heart,
+  'Tis strange they met, and stranger if they part!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered, which she did a very few hours after
+the mortifying event, where Lord Cadurcis had dined the day on which
+he had promised to be her guest, she was very indignant, but her
+vanity was more offended than her self-complacency. She was annoyed
+that Cadurcis should have compromised his exalted reputation by so
+publicly dangling in the train of the new beauty: still more that he
+should have signified in so marked a manner the impression which the
+fair stranger had made upon him, by instantly accepting an invitation
+to a house so totally unconnected with his circle, and where, had it
+not been to meet this Miss Herbert, it would of course never have
+entered his head to be a visitor. But, on the whole, Lady Monteagle
+was rather irritated than jealous; and far from suspecting that there
+was the slightest chance of her losing her influence, such as it might
+be, over Lord Cadurcis, all that she felt was, that less lustre must
+redound to her from its possession and exercise, if it were obvious
+to the world that his attentions could be so easily attracted and
+commanded.
+
+When Lord Cadurcis, therefore, having dispatched his poem to Venetia,
+paid his usual visit on the next day to Monteagle House, he was
+received rather with sneers than reproaches, as Lady Monteagle, with
+no superficial knowledge of society or his lordship's character,
+was clearly of opinion that this new fancy of her admirer was to be
+treated rather with ridicule than indignation; and, in short, as she
+had discovered that Cadurcis was far from being insensible to mockery,
+that it was clearly a fit occasion, to use a phrase then very much in
+vogue, for _quizzing_.
+
+'How d'ye do?' said her ladyship, with an arch smile, 'I really could
+not expect to see you!'
+
+Cadurcis looked a little confused; he detested scenes, and now he
+dreaded one.
+
+'You seem quite distrait,' continued Lady Monteagle, after a moment's
+pause, which his lordship ought to have broken. 'But no wonder, if the
+world be right.'
+
+'The world cannot be wrong,' said Cadurcis sarcastically.
+
+'Had you a pleasant party yesterday?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'Lady ---- must have been quite charmed to have you at last,' said Lady
+Monteagle. 'I suppose she exhibited you to all her friends, as if you
+were one of the savages that went to Court the other day.'
+
+'She was courteous.'
+
+'Oh! I can fancy her flutter! For my part, if there be one character
+in the world more odious than another, I think it is a fussy woman.
+Lady ----, with Lord Cadurcis dining with her, and the new beauty for a
+niece, must have been in a most delectable state of bustle.'
+
+'I thought she was rather quiet,' said her companion with provoking
+indifference. 'She seemed to me an agreeable person.'
+
+'I suppose you mean Miss Herbert?' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Oh! these are moderate expressions to use in reference to a person
+like Miss Herbert.'
+
+'You know what they said of you two at Ranelagh?' said her ladyship.
+
+'No,' said Lord Cadurcis, somewhat changing colour, and speaking
+through his teeth; 'something devilish pleasant, I dare say.'
+
+'They call you Sedition and Treason,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'Then we are well suited,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'She certainly is a beautiful creature,' said her ladyship.
+
+'I think so,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Rather too tall, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Beautiful complexion certainly; wants delicacy, I think.'
+
+'Do you?'
+
+'Fine eyes! Grey, I believe. Cannot say I admire grey eyes. Certain
+sign of bad temper, I believe, grey eyes?'
+
+'Are they?'
+
+'I did not observe her hand. I dare say a little coarse. Fair people
+who are tall generally fail in the hand and arm. What sort of a hand
+and arm has she?'
+
+'I did not observe anything coarse about Miss Herbert.'
+
+'Ah! you admire her. And you have cause. No one can deny she is a fine
+girl, and every one must regret, that with her decidedly provincial
+air and want of style altogether, which might naturally be expected,
+considering the rustic way I understand she has been brought up (an
+old house in the country, with a methodistical mother), that she
+should have fallen into such hands as her aunt. Lady ---- is enough to
+spoil any girl's fortune in London.'
+
+'I thought that the ---- were people of high consideration,' said Lord
+Cadurcis.
+
+'Consideration!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle. 'If you mean that they are
+people of rank, and good blood, and good property, they are certainly
+people of consideration; but they are Goths, Vandals, Huns, Calmucks,
+Canadian savages! They have no fashion, no style, no ton, no influence
+in the world. It is impossible that a greater misfortune could have
+befallen your beauty than having such an aunt. Why, no man who has the
+slightest regard for his reputation would be seen in her company. She
+is a regular quiz, and you cannot imagine how everybody was laughing
+at you the other night.'
+
+'I am very much obliged to them,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'And, upon my honour,' continued Lady Monteagle, 'speaking merely as
+your friend, and not being the least jealous (Cadurcis do not suppose
+that), not a twinge has crossed my mind on that score; but still I
+must tell you that it was most ridiculous for a man like you, to
+whom everybody looks up, and from whom the slightest attention is
+an honour, to go and fasten yourself the whole night upon a rustic
+simpleton, something between a wax doll and a dairymaid, whom every
+fool in London was staring at; the very reason why you should not have
+appeared to have been even aware of her existence.'
+
+'We have all our moments of weakness, Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis,
+charmed that the lady was so thoroughly unaware and unsuspicious of
+his long and intimate connection with the Herberts. 'I suppose it was
+my cursed vanity. I saw, as you say, every fool staring at her, and
+so I determined to show that in an instant I could engross her
+attention.'
+
+'Of course, I know it was only that; but you should not have gone
+and dined there, Cadurcis,' added the lady, very seriously, 'That
+compromised you; but, by cutting them in future in the most marked
+manner, you may get over it.'
+
+'You really think I may?' inquired Lord Cadurcis, with some anxiety.
+
+'Oh! I have no doubt of it,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'What it is to have a friend like you, Gertrude,' said Cadurcis, 'a
+friend who is neither a Goth, nor a Vandal, nor a Hun, nor a Calmuck,
+nor a Canadian savage; but a woman of fashion, style, ton, influence
+in the world! It is impossible that a greater piece of good fortune
+could have befallen me than having you for a friend.'
+
+'Ah, mechant! you may mock,' said the lady, triumphantly, for she was
+quite satisfied with the turn the conversation had taken; 'but I am
+glad for your sake that you take such a sensible view of the case.'
+
+Notwithstanding, however, this sensible view of the case, after
+lounging an hour at Monteagle House, Lord Cadurcis' carriage stopped
+at the door of Venetia's Gothic aunt. He was not so fortunate as
+to meet his heroine; but, nevertheless, he did not esteem his time
+entirely thrown away, and consoled himself for the disappointment
+by confirming the favourable impression he had already made in this
+establishment, and cultivating an intimacy which he was assured must
+contribute many opportunities of finding himself in the society
+of Venetia. From this day, indeed, he was a frequent guest at her
+uncle's, and generally contrived also to meet her several times in
+the week at some great assembly; but here, both from the occasional
+presence of Lady Monteagle, although party spirit deterred her from
+attending many circles where Cadurcis was now an habitual visitant,
+and from the crowd of admirers who surrounded the Herberts, he rarely
+found an opportunity for any private conversation with Venetia.
+His friend the Bishop also, notwithstanding the prejudices of Lady
+Annabel, received him always with cordiality, and he met the Herberts
+more than once at his mansion. At the opera and in the park also he
+hovered about them, in spite of the sarcasms or reproaches of Lady
+Monteagle; for the reader is not to suppose that that lady continued
+to take the same self-complacent view of Lord Cadurcis' acquaintance
+with the Herberts which she originally adopted, and at first flattered
+herself was the just one. His admiration of Miss Herbert had become
+the topic of general conversation; it could no longer be concealed or
+disguised. But Lady Monteagle was convinced that Cadurcis was not a
+marrying man, and persuaded herself that this was a fancy which must
+evaporate. Moreover, Monteagle House still continued his spot of most
+constant resort; for his opportunities of being with Venetia were,
+with all his exertions, limited, and he had no other resource which
+pleased him so much as the conversation and circle of the bright
+goddess of his party. After some fiery scenes therefore with the
+divinity, which only led to his prolonged absence, for the profound
+and fervent genius of Cadurcis revolted from the base sentiment and
+mock emotions of society, the lady reconciled herself to her lot,
+still believing herself the most envied woman in London, and often
+ashamed of being jealous of a country girl.
+
+The general result of the fortnight which elapsed since Cadurcis
+renewed his acquaintance with his Cherbury friends was, that he had
+become convinced of his inability of propitiating Lady Annabel, was
+devotedly attached to Venetia, though he had seldom an opportunity
+of intimating feelings, which the cordial manner in which she ever
+conducted herself to him gave him no reason to conclude desperate; at
+the same time that he had contrived that a day should seldom elapse,
+which did not under some circumstances, however unfavourable, bring
+them together, while her intimate friends and the circles in which she
+passed most of her life always witnessed his presence with favour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+We must, however, endeavour to be more intimately acquainted with
+the heart and mind of Venetia in her present situation, so strongly
+contrasting with the serene simplicity of her former life, than the
+limited and constrained opportunities of conversing with the companion
+of his childhood enjoyed by Lord Cadurcis could possibly enable him to
+become. Let us recur to her on the night when she returned home, after
+having met with Plantagenet at her uncle's, and having pursued a
+conversation with him, so unexpected, so strange, and so affecting!
+She had been silent in the carriage, and retired to her room
+immediately. She retired to ponder. The voice of Cadurcis lingered in
+her ear; his tearful eye still caught her vision. She leant her head
+upon her hand, and sighed! Why did she sigh? What at this instant was
+her uppermost thought? Her mother's dislike of Cadurcis. 'Your mother
+hates me.' These had been his words; these were the words she repeated
+to herself, and on whose fearful sounds she dwelt. 'Your mother hates
+me.' If by some means she had learnt a month ago at Weymouth, that her
+mother hated Cadurcis, that his general conduct had been such as to
+excite Lady Annabel's odium, Venetia might have for a moment
+been shocked that her old companion in whom she had once been so
+interested, had by his irregular behaviour incurred the dislike of her
+mother, by whom he had once been so loved. But it would have been a
+transient emotion. She might have mused over past feelings and past
+hopes in a solitary ramble on the seashore; she might even have shed
+a tear over the misfortunes or infelicity of one who had once been
+to her a brother; but, perhaps, nay probably, on the morrow the
+remembrance of Plantagenet would scarcely have occurred to her.
+Long years had elapsed since their ancient fondness; a considerable
+interval since even his name had met her ear. She had heard nothing
+of him that could for a moment arrest her notice or command her
+attention.
+
+But now the irresistible impression that her mother disliked this very
+individual filled, her with intolerable grief. What occasioned this
+change in her feelings, this extraordinary difference in her emotions?
+There was, apparently, but one cause. She had met Cadurcis. Could then
+a glance, could even the tender intonations of that unrivalled voice,
+and the dark passion of that speaking eye, work in an instant such
+marvels? Could they revive the past so vividly, that Plantagenet in
+a moment resumed his ancient place in her affections? No, it was not
+that: it was less the tenderness of the past that made Venetia mourn
+her mother's sternness to Cadurcis, than the feelings of the future.
+For now she felt that her mother's heart was not more changed towards
+this personage than was her own.
+
+It seemed to Venetia that even before they met, from the very moment
+that his name had so strangely caught her eye in the volume on the
+first evening she had visited her relations, that her spirit suddenly
+turned to him. She had never heard that name mentioned since without
+a fluttering of the heart which she could not repress, and an emotion
+she could ill conceal. She loved to hear others talk of him, and yet
+scarcely dared speak of him herself. She recalled her emotion
+at unexpectedly seeing his portrait when with her aunt, and her
+mortification when her mother deprived her of the poem which she
+sighed to read. Day after day something seemed to have occurred to fix
+her brooding thoughts with fonder earnestness on his image. At length
+they met. Her emotion when she first recognised him at Ranelagh and
+felt him approaching her, was one of those tumults of the heart that
+form almost a crisis in our sensations. With what difficulty had
+she maintained herself! Doubtful whether he would even formally
+acknowledge her presence, her vision as if by fascination had
+nevertheless met his, and grew dizzy as he passed. In the interval
+that had elapsed between his first passing and then joining her, what
+a chaos was her mind! What a wild blending of all the scenes and
+incidents of her life! What random answers had she made to those with
+whom she had been before conversing with ease and animation! And then,
+when she unexpectedly found Cadurcis at her side, and listened to the
+sound of that familiar voice, familiar and yet changed, expressing
+so much tenderness in its tones, and in its words such deference and
+delicate respect, existence felt to her that moment affluent with a
+blissful excitement of which she had never dreamed!
+
+Her life was a reverie until they met again, in which she only mused
+over his fame, and the strange relations of their careers. She had
+watched the conduct of her mother to him at dinner with poignant
+sorrow; she scarcely believed that she should have an opportunity
+of expressing to him her sympathy. And then what had followed?
+A conversation, every word of which had touched her heart; a
+conversation that would have entirely controlled her feelings even if
+he had not already subjected them. The tone in which he so suddenly
+had pronounced 'Venetia,' was the sweetest music to which she had ever
+listened. His allusion to her father had drawn tears, which could not
+be restrained even in a crowded saloon. Now she wept plenteously.
+It was so generous, so noble, so kind, so affectionate! Dear, dear
+Cadurcis, is it wonderful that you should be loved?
+
+Then falling into a reverie of sweet and unbroken stillness, with her
+eyes fixed in abstraction on the fire, Venetia reviewed her life from
+the moment she had known Plantagenet. Not an incident that had ever
+occurred to them that did not rise obedient to her magical bidding.
+She loved to dwell upon the time when she was the consolation of his
+sorrows, and when Cherbury was to him a pleasant refuge! Oh! she felt
+sure her mother must remember those fond days, and love him as she
+once did! She pictured to herself the little Plantagenet of her
+childhood, so serious and so pensive when alone or with others, yet
+with her at times so gay and wild, and sarcastic; forebodings all of
+that deep and brilliant spirit, which had since stirred up the heart
+of a great nation, and dazzled the fancy of an admiring world. The
+change too in their mutual lots was also, to a degree, not free from
+that sympathy that had ever bound them together. A train of strange
+accidents had brought Venetia from her spell-bound seclusion, placed
+her suddenly in the most brilliant circle of civilisation, and classed
+her among not the least admired of its favoured members. And whom had
+she come to meet? Whom did she find in this new and splendid life the
+most courted and considered of its community, crowned as it were with
+garlands, and perfumed with the incense of a thousand altars? Her own
+Plantagenet. It was passing strange.
+
+The morrow brought the verses from Cadurcis. They greatly affected
+her. The picture of their childhood, and of the singular sympathy of
+their mutual situations, and the description of her father, called
+forth her tears; she murmured, however, at the allusion to her other
+parent. It was not just, it could not be true. These verses were not,
+of course, shown to Lady Annabel. Would they have been shown, even if
+they had not contained the allusion? The question is not perplexing.
+Venetia had her secret, and a far deeper one than the mere reception
+of a poem; all confidence between her and her mother had expired. Love
+had stept in, and, before his magic touch, the discipline of a life
+expired in an instant.
+
+From all this an idea may be formed of the mood in which, during the
+fortnight before alluded to, Venetia was in the habit of meeting Lord
+Cadurcis. During this period not the slightest conversation respecting
+him had occurred between her mother and herself. Lady Annabel never
+mentioned him, and her brow clouded when his name, as was often the
+case, was introduced. At the end of this fortnight, it happened that
+her aunt and mother were out together in the carriage, and had left
+her in the course of the morning at her uncle's house. During this
+interval, Lord Cadurcis called, and having ascertained, through a
+garrulous servant, that though his mistress was out, Miss Herbert was
+in the drawing-room, he immediately took the opportunity of being
+introduced. Venetia was not a little surprised at his appearance, and,
+conscious of her mother's feelings upon the subject, for a moment
+a little agitated, yet, it must be confessed, as much pleased. She
+seized this occasion of speaking to him about his verses, for hitherto
+she had only been able to acknowledge the receipt of them by a
+word. While she expressed without affectation the emotions they had
+occasioned her, she complained of his injustice to her mother: this
+was the cause of an interesting conversation of which her father
+was the subject, and for which she had long sighed. With what deep,
+unbroken attention she listened to her companion's enthusiastic
+delineation of his character and career! What multiplied questions did
+she not ask him, and how eagerly, how amply, how affectionately he
+satisfied her just and natural curiosity! Hours flew away while they
+indulged in this rare communion.
+
+'Oh, that I could see him!' sighed Venetia.
+
+'You will,' replied Plantagenet; 'your destiny requires it. You will
+see him as surely as you beheld that portrait that it was the labour
+of a life to prevent you beholding.'
+
+Venetia shook her head; 'And yet,' she added musingly, 'my mother
+loves him.'
+
+'Her life proves it,' said Cadurcis bitterly.
+
+'I think it does,' replied Venetia, sincerely.
+
+'I pretend not to understand her heart,' he answered; 'it is an enigma
+that I cannot solve. I ought not to believe that she is without one;
+but, at any rate, her pride is deeper than her love.'
+
+'They were ill suited,' said Venetia, mournfully; 'and yet it is one
+of my dreams that they may yet meet.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' he exclaimed, in a voice of great softness, 'they had
+not known each other from their childhood, like us. They met, and they
+parted, alike in haste.'
+
+Venetia made no reply; her eyes were fixed in abstraction on a
+handscreen, which she was unconscious that she held.
+
+'Tell me,' said Cadurcis, drawing his chair close to hers; 'tell me,
+Venetia, if--'
+
+At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced the return of
+the Countess and her sister-in-law. Cadurcis rose from his seat, but
+his chair, which still remained close to that on which Venetia was
+sitting, did not escape the quick glance of her mortified mother. The
+Countess welcomed Cadurcis with extreme cordiality; Lady Annabel only
+returned his very courteous bow.
+
+'Stop and dine with us, my dear lord,' said the Countess. 'We are only
+ourselves, and Lady Annabel and Venetia.'
+
+'I thank you, Clara,' said Lady Annabel, 'but we cannot stop to-day.'
+
+'Oh!' exclaimed her sister. 'It will be such a disappointment to
+Philip. Indeed you must stay,' she added, in a coaxing tone; 'we shall
+be such an agreeable little party, with Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'I cannot indeed, my dear Clara,' replied Lady Annabel; 'not to-day,
+indeed not to-day. Come Venetia!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Lady Annabel was particularly kind to Venetia on their return to their
+hotel, otherwise her daughter might have fancied that she had offended
+her, for she was silent. Venetia did not doubt that the presence of
+Lord Cadurcis was the reason that her mother would not remain and
+dine at her uncle's. This conviction grieved Venetia, but she did not
+repine; she indulged the fond hope that time would remove the strong
+prejudice which Lady Annabel now so singularly entertained against one
+in whose welfare she was originally so deeply interested. During their
+simple and short repast Venetia was occupied in a reverie, in
+which, it must be owned, Cadurcis greatly figured, and answered the
+occasional though kind remarks of her mother with an absent air.
+
+After dinner, Lady Annabel drew her chair towards the fire, for,
+although May, the weather was chill, and said, 'A quiet evening at
+home, Venetia, will be a relief after all this gaiety.' Venetia
+assented to her mother's observation, and nearly a quarter of an hour
+elapsed without another word being spoken. Venetia had taken up a
+book, and Lady Annabel was apparently lost in her reflections. At
+length she said, somewhat abruptly, 'It is more than three years, I
+think, since Lord Cadurcis left Cherbury?'
+
+'Yes; it is more than three years,' replied Venetia.
+
+'He quitted us suddenly.'
+
+'Very suddenly,' agreed Venetia.
+
+'I never asked you whether you knew the cause, Venetia,' continued her
+mother, 'but I always concluded that you did. I suppose I was not in
+error?'
+
+This was not a very agreeable inquiry. Venetia did not reply to
+it with her previous readiness and indifference. That indeed was
+impossible; but, with her accustomed frankness, after a moment's
+hesitation, she answered, 'Lord Cadurcis never specifically stated the
+cause to me, mamma; indeed I was myself surprised at his departure,
+but some conversation had occurred between us on the very morning he
+quitted Cadurcis, which, on reflection, I could not doubt occasioned
+that departure.'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis preferred his suit to you, Venetia, and you rejected
+him?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is as you believe,' replied Venetia, not a little agitated.
+
+'You did wisely, my child, and I was weak ever to have regretted your
+conduct.'
+
+'Why should you think so, dearest mamma?'
+
+'Whatever may have been the cause that impelled your conduct then,'
+said Lady Annabel, 'I shall ever esteem your decision as a signal
+interposition of Providence in your favour. Except his extreme youth,
+there was apparently no reason which should not have induced you to
+adopt a different decision. I tremble when I think what might have
+been the consequences.'
+
+'Tremble, dearest mother?'
+
+'Tremble, Venetia. My only thought in this life is the happiness of my
+child. It was in peril.
+
+'Nay, I trust not that, mamma: you are prejudiced against Plantagenet.
+It makes me very unhappy, and him also.'
+
+'He is again your suitor?' said Lady Annabel, with a scrutinising
+glance.
+
+'Indeed he is not.'
+
+'He will be,' said Lady Annabel. 'Prepare yourself. Tell me, then, are
+your feelings the same towards him as when he last quitted us?'
+
+'Feelings, mamma!' said Venetia, echoing her mother's words; for
+indeed the question was one very difficult to answer; 'I ever loved
+Plantagenet; I love him still.'
+
+'But do you love him now as then? Then you looked upon him as a
+brother. He has no soul now for sisterly affections. I beseech you
+tell me, my child, me, your mother, your friend, your best, your only
+friend, tell me, have you for a moment repented that you ever refused
+to extend to him any other affection?'
+
+'I have not thought of the subject, mamma; I have not wished to think
+of the subject; I have had no occasion to think of it. Lord Cadurcis
+is not my suitor now.'
+
+'Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, 'I cannot doubt you love me.'
+
+'Dearest mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in a tone of mingled fondness and
+reproach, and she rose from her seat and embraced Lady Annabel.
+
+'My happiness is an object to you, Venetia?' continued Lady Annabel.
+
+'Mother, mother,' said Venetia, in a deprecatory tone. 'Do not ask
+such cruel questions? Whom should I love but you, the best, the
+dearest mother that ever existed? And what object can I have in life
+that for a moment can be placed in competition with your happiness?'
+
+'Then, Venetia, I tell you,' said Lady Annabel, in a solemn yet
+excited voice, 'that that happiness is gone for ever, nay, my very
+life will be the forfeit, if I ever live to see you the bride of Lord
+Cadurcis.'
+
+'I have no thought of being the bride of any one,' said Venetia. 'I am
+happy with you. I wish never to leave you.'
+
+'My child, the fulfilment of such a wish is not in the nature of
+things,' replied Lady Annabel. 'The day will come when we must part;
+I am prepared for the event; nay, I look forward to it not only with
+resignation, but delight, when I think it may increase your happiness;
+but were that step to destroy it, oh! then, then I could live no more.
+I can endure my own sorrows, I can struggle with my own bitter lot,
+I have some sources of consolation which enable me to endure my own
+misery without repining; but yours, yours, Venetia, I could not bear.
+No! if once I were to behold you lingering in life as your mother,
+with blighted hopes and with a heart broken, if hearts can break, I
+should not survive the spectacle; I know myself, Venetia, I could not
+survive it.'
+
+'But why anticipate such misery? Why indulge in such gloomy
+forebodings? Am I not happy now? Do you not love me?'
+
+Venetia had drawn her chair close to that of her mother; she sat by
+her side and held her hand.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, after a pause of some minutes, and in a
+low voice, 'I must speak to you on a subject on which we have never
+conversed. I must speak to you;' and here Lady Annabel's voice dropped
+lower and lower, but still its tones were distinct, although
+she expressed herself with evident effort: 'I must speak to you
+about--your father.'
+
+Venetia uttered a faint cry, she clenched her mother's hand with a
+convulsive grasp, and sank upon her bosom. She struggled to maintain
+herself, but the first sound of that name from her mother's lips, and
+all the long-suppressed emotions that it conjured up, overpowered her.
+The blood seemed to desert her heart; still she did not faint; she
+clung to Lady Annabel, pallid and shivering.
+
+Her mother tenderly embraced her, she whispered to her words of great
+affection, she attempted to comfort and console her. Venetia murmured,
+'This is very foolish of me, mother; but speak, oh! speak of what I
+have so long desired to hear.'
+
+'Not now, Venetia.'
+
+'Now, mother! yes, now! I am quite composed. I could not bear the
+postponement of what you were about to say. I could not sleep, dear
+mother, if you did not speak to me. It was only for a moment I was
+overcome. See! I am quite composed.' And indeed she spoke in a calm
+and steady voice, but her pale and suffering countenance expressed the
+painful struggle which it cost her to command herself.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'it has been one of the objects of my
+life, that you should not share my sorrows.'
+
+Venetia pressed her mother's hand, but made no other reply.
+
+'I concealed from you for years,' continued Lady Annabel, 'a
+circumstance in which, indeed, you were deeply interested, but the
+knowledge of which could only bring you unhappiness. Yet it was
+destined that my solicitude should eventually be baffled. I know that
+it is not from my lips that you learn for the first time that you have
+a father, a father living.'
+
+'Mother, let me tell you all!' said Venetia, eagerly.
+
+'I know all,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'But, mother, there is something that you do not know; and now I would
+confess it.'
+
+'There is nothing that you can confess with which I am not acquainted,
+Venetia; and I feel assured, I have ever felt assured, that your only
+reason for concealment was a desire to save me pain.'
+
+'That, indeed, has ever been my only motive,' replied Venetia, 'for
+having a secret from my mother.'
+
+'In my absence from Cherbury you entered the chamber,' said Lady
+Annabel, calmly. 'In the delirium of your fever I became acquainted
+with a circumstance which so nearly proved fatal to you.'
+
+Venetia's cheek turned scarlet.
+
+'In that chamber you beheld the portrait of your father,' continued
+Lady Annabel. 'From our friend you learnt that father was still
+living. That is all?' said Lady Annabel, inquiringly.
+
+'No, not all, dear mother; not all. Lord Cadurcis reproached me at
+Cherbury with, with, with having such a father,' she added, in a
+hesitating voice. 'It was then I learnt his misfortunes, mother; his
+misery.'
+
+'I thought that misfortunes, that misery, were the lot of your other
+parent,' replied Lady Annabel, somewhat coldly.
+
+'Not with my love,' said Venetia, eagerly; 'not with my love, mother.
+You have forgotten your misery in my love. Say so, say so, dearest
+mother.' And Venetia threw herself on her knees before Lady Annabel,
+and looked up with earnestness in her face.
+
+The expression of that countenance had been for a moment stern, but
+it relaxed into fondness, as Lady Annabel gently bowed her head, and
+pressed her lips to her daughter's forehead. 'Ah, Venetia!' she said,
+'all depends upon you. I can endure, nay, I can forget the past, if my
+child be faithful to me. There are no misfortunes, there is no misery,
+if the being to whom I have consecrated the devotion of my life will
+only be dutiful, will only be guided by my advice, will only profit by
+my sad experience.'
+
+'Mother, I repeat I have no thought but for you,' said Venetia. 'My
+own dearest mother, if my duty, if my devotion can content you, you
+shall be happy. But wherein have I failed?'
+
+'In nothing, love. Your life has hitherto been one unbroken course of
+affectionate obedience.'
+
+'And ever shall be,' said Venetia. 'But you were speaking, mother, you
+were speaking of, of my, my father!'
+
+'Of him!' said Lady Annabel, thoughtfully. 'You have seen his
+picture?'
+
+Venetia kissed her mother's hand.
+
+'Was he less beautiful than Cadurcis? Was he less gifted?' exclaimed
+Lady Annabel, with animation. 'He could whisper in tones as sweet, and
+pour out his vows as fervently. Yet what am I? O my child!' continued
+Lady Annabel, 'beware of such beings! They bear within them a spirit
+on which all the devotion of our sex is lavished in vain. A year, no!
+not a year, not one short year! and all my hopes were blighted! O
+Venetia! if your future should be like my bitter past! and it might
+have been, and I might have contributed to the fulfilment! can you
+wonder that I should look upon Cadurcis with aversion?'
+
+'But, mother, dearest mother, we have known Plantagenet from his
+childhood. You ever loved him; you ever gave him credit for a heart,
+most tender and affectionate.'
+
+'He has no heart.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'He cannot have a heart. Spirits like him are heartless. It is another
+impulse that sways their existence. It is imagination; it is vanity;
+it is self, disguised with glittering qualities that dazzle our weak
+senses, but selfishness, the most entire, the most concentrated. We
+knew him as a child: ah! what can women know? We are born to love, and
+to be deceived. We saw him young, helpless, abandoned; he moved our
+pity. We knew not his nature; then he was ignorant of it himself. But
+the young tiger, though cradled at our hearths and fed on milk, will
+in good time retire to its jungle and prey on blood. You cannot change
+its nature; and the very hand that fostered it will be its first
+victim.'
+
+'How often have we parted!' said Venetia, in a deprecating tone; 'how
+long have we been separated! and yet we find him ever the same; he
+ever loves us. Yes! dear mother, he loves you now, the same as in old
+days. If you had seen him, as I have seen him, weep when he recalled
+your promise to be a parent to him, and then contrasted with such
+sweet hopes your present reserve, oh! you would believe he had a
+heart, you would, indeed!'
+
+'Weep!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, bitterly, 'ay! they can weep.
+Sensibility is a luxury which they love to indulge. Their very
+susceptibility is our bane. They can weep; they can play upon our
+feelings; and our emotion, so easily excited, is an homage to their
+own power, in which they glory.
+
+'Look at Cadurcis,' she suddenly resumed; 'bred with so much care;
+the soundest principles instilled into him with such sedulousness;
+imbibing them apparently with so much intelligence, ardour, and
+sincerity, with all that fervour, indeed, with which men of his
+temperament for the moment pursue every object; but a few years back,
+pious, dutiful, and moral, viewing perhaps with intolerance too
+youthful all that differed from the opinions and the conduct he had
+been educated to admire and follow. And what is he now? The most
+lawless of the wild; casting to the winds every salutary principle of
+restraint and social discipline, and glorying only in the abandoned
+energy of self. Three years ago, you yourself confessed to me, he
+reproached you with your father's conduct; now he emulates it. There
+is a career which such men must run, and from which no influence can
+divert them; it is in their blood. To-day Cadurcis may vow to you
+eternal devotion; but, if the world speak truth, Venetia, a month ago
+he was equally enamoured of another, and one, too, who cannot be his.
+But grant that his sentiments towards you are for the moment sincere;
+his imagination broods upon your idea, it transfigures it with a halo
+which exists only to his vision. Yield to him; become his bride; and
+you will have the mortification of finding that, before six mouths
+have elapsed, his restless spirit is already occupied with objects
+which may excite your mortification, your disgust, even your horror!'
+
+'Ah, mother! it is not with Plantagenet as with my father; Plantagenet
+could not forget Cherbury, he could not forget our childhood,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'On the contrary, while you lived together these recollections would
+be wearisome, common-place to him; when you had separated, indeed,
+mellowed by distance, and the comparative vagueness with which your
+absence would invest them, they would become the objects of his muse,
+and he would insult you by making the public the confidant of all your
+most delicate domestic feelings.'
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat, and walked up and down the room,
+speaking with an excitement very unusual with her. 'To have all
+the soft secrets of your life revealed to the coarse wonder of the
+gloating multitude; to find yourself the object of the world's
+curiosity, still worse, their pity, their sympathy; to have the sacred
+conduct of your hearth canvassed in every circle, and be the grand
+subject of the pros and cons of every paltry journal, ah, Venetia! you
+know not, you cannot understand, it is impossible you can comprehend,
+the bitterness of such a lot.'
+
+'My beloved mother!' said Venetia, with streaming eyes, 'you cannot
+have a feeling that I do not share.'
+
+'Venetia, you know not what I had to endure!' exclaimed Lady Annabel,
+in a tone of extreme bitterness. 'There is no degree of wretchedness
+that you can conceive equal to what has been the life of your mother.
+And what has sustained me; what, throughout all my tumultuous
+troubles, has been the star on which I have ever gazed? My child! And
+am I to lose her now, after all my sufferings, all my hopes that she
+at least might be spared my miserable doom? Am I to witness her also a
+victim?' Lady Annabel clasped her hands in passionate grief.
+
+'Mother! mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in agony, 'spare yourself, spare
+me!'
+
+'Venetia, you know how I have doted upon you; you know how I have
+watched and tended you from your infancy. Have I had a thought, a
+wish, a hope, a plan? has there been the slightest action of my life,
+of which you have not been the object? All mothers feel, but none ever
+felt like me; you were my solitary joy.'
+
+Venetia leant her face upon the table at which she was sitting and
+sobbed aloud.
+
+'My love was baffled,' Lady Annabel continued. 'I fled, for both our
+sakes, from the world in which my family were honoured; I sacrificed
+without a sigh, in the very prime of my youth, every pursuit which
+interests woman; but I had my child, I had my child!'
+
+'And you have her still!' exclaimed the miserable Venetia. 'Mother,
+you have her still!'
+
+'I have schooled my mind,' continued Lady Annabel, still pacing the
+room with agitated steps; 'I have disciplined my emotions; I have felt
+at my heart the constant the undying pang, and yet I have smiled, that
+you might be happy. But I can struggle against my fate no longer. No
+longer can I suffer my unparalleled, yes, my unjust doom. What have I
+done to merit these afflictions? Now, then, let me struggle no more;
+let me die!'
+
+Venetia tried to rise; her limbs refused their office; she tottered;
+she fell again into her seat with an hysteric cry.
+
+'Alas! alas!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, 'to a mother, a child is
+everything; but to a child, a parent is only a link in the chain of
+her existence. It was weakness, it was folly, it was madness to stake
+everything on a resource which must fail me. I feel it now, but I feel
+it too late.'
+
+Venetia held forth her arms; she could not speak; she was stifled with
+her emotion.
+
+'But was it wonderful that I was so weak?' continued her mother, as it
+were communing only with herself. 'What child was like mine? Oh! the
+joy, the bliss, the hours of rapture that I have passed, in gazing
+upon my treasure, and dreaming of all her beauty and her rare
+qualities! I was so happy! I was so proud! Ah, Venetia! you know not
+how I have loved you!'
+
+Venetia sprang from her seat; she rushed forward with convulsive
+energy; she clung to her mother, threw her arms round her neck, and
+buried her passionate woe in Lady Annabel's bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel stood for some minutes supporting her speechless and
+agitated child; then, as her sobs became fainter, and the tumult of
+her grief gradually died away, she bore her to the sofa, and seated
+herself by her side, holding Venetia's hand in her own, and ever and
+anon soothing her with soft embraces, and still softer words.
+
+At length, in a faint voice, Venetia said, 'Mother, what can I do to
+restore the past? How can we be to each other as we were, for this I
+cannot bear?'
+
+'Love me, my Venetia, as I love you; be faithful to your mother; do
+not disregard her counsel; profit by her errors.'
+
+'I will in all things obey you,' said Venetia, in a low voice; 'there
+is no sacrifice I am not prepared to make for your happiness.'
+
+'Let us not talk of sacrifices, my darling child; it is not a
+sacrifice that I require. I wish only to prevent your everlasting
+misery.'
+
+'What, then, shall I do?'
+
+'Make me only one promise; whatever pledge you give, I feel assured
+that no influence, Venetia, will ever induce you to forfeit it.'
+
+'Name it, mother.'
+
+'Promise me never to marry Lord Cadurcis,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+whisper, but a whisper of which not a word was lost by the person to
+whom it was addressed.
+
+'I promise never to marry, but with your approbation,' said Venetia,
+in a solemn voice, and uttering the words with great distinctness.
+
+The countenance of Lady Annabel instantly brightened; she embraced her
+child with extreme fondness, and breathed the softest and the sweetest
+expressions of gratitude and love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+When Lady Monteagle discovered that of which her good-natured friends
+took care she should not long remain ignorant, that Venetia Herbert
+had been the companion of Lord Cadurcis' childhood, and that the most
+intimate relations had once subsisted between the two families,
+she became the prey of violent jealousy; and the bitterness of her
+feelings was not a little increased, when she felt that she had not
+only been abandoned, but duped; and that the new beauty, out of his
+fancy for whom she had flattered herself she had so triumphantly
+rallied him, was an old friend, whom he always admired. She seized the
+first occasion, after this discovery, of relieving her feelings, by
+a scene so violent, that Cadurcis had never again entered Monteagle
+House; and then repenting of this mortifying result, which she had
+herself precipitated, she overwhelmed him with letters, which, next
+to scenes, were the very things which Lord Cadurcis most heartily
+abhorred. These, now indignant, now passionate, now loading him with
+reproaches, now appealing to his love, and now to his pity, daily
+arrived at his residence, and were greeted at first only with short
+and sarcastic replies, and finally by silence. Then the lady solicited
+a final interview, and Lord Cadurcis having made an appointment to
+quiet her, went out of town the day before to Richmond, to a villa
+belonging to Venetia's uncle, and where, among other guests, he was of
+course to meet Lady Annabel and her daughter.
+
+The party was a most agreeable one, and assumed an additional interest
+with Cadurcis, who had resolved to seize this favourable opportunity
+to bring his aspirations to Venetia to a crisis. The day after the
+last conversation with her, which we have noticed, he had indeed
+boldly called upon the Herberts at their hotel for that purpose, but
+without success, as they were again absent from home. He had been
+since almost daily in the society of Venetia; but London, to a lover
+who is not smiled upon by the domestic circle of his mistress, is a
+very unfavourable spot for confidential conversations. A villa life,
+with its easy, unembarrassed habits, its gardens and lounging walks,
+to say nothing of the increased opportunities resulting from being
+together at all hours, and living under the same roof, was more
+promising; and here he flattered himself he might defy even the Argus
+eye and ceaseless vigilance of his intended mother-in-law, his enemy,
+whom he could not propitiate, and whom he now fairly hated.
+
+His cousin George, too, was a guest, and his cousin George was the
+confidant of his love. Upon this kind relation devolved the duty, far
+from a disagreeable one, of amusing the mother; and as Lady Annabel,
+though she relaxed not a jot of the grim courtesy which she ever
+extended to Lord Cadurcis, was no longer seriously uneasy as to his
+influence after the promise she had exacted from her daughter, it
+would seem that these circumstances combined to prevent Lord Cadurcis
+from being disappointed at least in the first object which he wished
+to obtain, an opportunity.
+
+And yet several days elapsed before this offered itself, passed by
+Cadurcis, however, very pleasantly in the presence of the being he
+loved, and very judiciously too, for no one could possibly be more
+amiable and ingratiating than our friend. Every one present, except
+Lady Annabel, appeared to entertain for him as much affection as
+admiration: those who had only met him in throngs were quite surprised
+how their superficial observation and the delusive reports of the
+world had misled them. As for his hostess, whom it had ever been his
+study to please, he had long won her heart; and, as she could not
+be blind to his projects and pretensions, she heartily wished him
+success, assisted him with all her efforts, and desired nothing more
+sincerely than that her niece should achieve such a conquest, and she
+obtain so distinguished a nephew.
+
+Notwithstanding her promise to her mother, Venetia felt justified in
+making no alteration in her conduct to one whom she still sincerely
+loved; and, under the immediate influence of his fascination, it was
+often, when she was alone, that she mourned with a sorrowing heart
+over the opinion which her mother entertained of him. Could it indeed
+be possible that Plantagenet, the same Plantagenet she had known so
+early and so long, to her invariably so tender and so devoted, could
+entail on her, by their union, such unspeakable and inevitable misery?
+Whatever might be the view adopted by her mother of her conduct,
+Venetia felt every hour more keenly that it was a sacrifice, and the
+greatest; and she still indulged in a vague yet delicious dream,
+that Lady Annabel might ultimately withdraw the harsh and perhaps
+heart-breaking interdict she had so rigidly decreed.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said his cousin to him one morning, 'we are all going
+to Hampton Court. Now is your time; Lady Annabel, the Vernons, and
+myself, will fill one carriage; I have arranged that. Look out, and
+something may be done. Speak to the Countess.'
+
+Accordingly Lord Cadurcis hastened to make a suggestion to a friend
+always flattered by his notice. 'My dear friend,' he said in his
+softest tone, 'let you and Venetia and myself manage to be together;
+it will be so delightful; we shall quite enjoy ourselves.'
+
+The Countess did not require this animating compliment to effect the
+object which Cadurcis did not express. She had gradually fallen
+into the unacknowledged conspiracy against her sister-in-law, whose
+prejudice against her friend she had long discovered, and had now
+ceased to combat. Two carriages, and one filled as George had
+arranged, accordingly drove gaily away; and Venetia, and her aunt, and
+Lord Cadurcis were to follow them on horseback. They rode with delight
+through the splendid avenues of Bushey, and Cadurcis was never in a
+lighter or happier mood.
+
+The month of May was in its decline, and the cloudless sky and the
+balmy air such as suited so agreeable a season. The London season was
+approaching its close; for the royal birthday was, at the period of
+our history, generally the signal of preparation for country quarters.
+The carriages arrived long before the riding party, for they had
+walked their steeds, and they found a messenger who requested them to
+join their friends in the apartments which they were visiting.
+
+'For my part,' said Cadurcis, 'I love the sun that rarely shines in
+this land. I feel no inclination to lose the golden hours in these
+gloomy rooms. What say you, ladies fair, to a stroll in the gardens?
+It will be doubly charming after our ride.'
+
+His companions cheerfully assented, and they walked away,
+congratulating themselves on their escape from the wearisome amusement
+of palace-hunting, straining their eyes to see pictures hung at a
+gigantic height, and solemnly wandering through formal apartments full
+of state beds and massy cabinets and modern armour.
+
+Taking their way along the terrace, they struck at length into a less
+formal path. At length the Countess seated herself on a bench. 'I must
+rest,' she said, 'but you, young people, may roam about; only do not
+lose me.'
+
+'Come, Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Venetia was hesitating; she did not like to leave her aunt alone, but
+the Countess encouraged her, 'If you will not go, you will only make
+me continue walking,' she said. And so Venetia proceeded, and for the
+first time since her visit was alone with Plantagenet.
+
+'I quite love your aunt,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'It is difficult indeed not to love her,' said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I wish your mother was like your aunt,' he continued.
+It was an observation which was not heard without some emotion by his
+companion, though it was imperceptible. 'Venetia,' said Cadurcis,
+'when I recollect old days, how strange it seems that we now never
+should be alone, but by some mere accident, like this, for instance.'
+
+'It is no use thinking of old days,' said Venetia.
+
+'No use! said Cadurcis. 'I do not like to hear you say that, Venetia.
+Those are some of the least agreeable words that were ever uttered
+by that mouth. I cling to old days; they are my only joy and my only
+hope.'
+
+'They are gone,' said Venetia.
+
+'But may they not return?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, mournfully.
+
+They had walked on to a marble fountain of gigantic proportions and
+elaborate workmanship, an assemblage of divinities and genii, all
+spouting water in fantastic attitudes.
+
+'Old days,' said Plantagenet, 'are like the old fountain at Cadurcis,
+dearer to me than all this modern splendour.'
+
+'The old fountain at Cadurcis,' said Venetia, musingly, and gazing on
+the water with an abstracted air, 'I loved it well!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yet
+not untouched with melancholy, 'dear Venetia, let us return, and
+return together, to that old fountain and those old days!'
+
+Venetia shook her head. 'Ah, Plantagenet!' she exclaimed in a mournful
+voice, 'we must not speak of these things.'
+
+'Why not, Venetia?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Why should we
+be estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; never
+have I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthful
+affection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank.'
+
+'I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged,' said Venetia.
+
+'Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury,' said
+Cadurcis. 'Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging the
+same. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now an
+obscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charm
+of my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?'
+
+'Plantagenet,' she replied, in a solemn tone, 'yours I never can be.'
+
+'You do not, then, love me?' said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in a
+voice of great feeling.
+
+'It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'My own Venetia!' said Cadurcis; 'Venetia that I dote on! what does
+this mean? Why, then, will you not be mine?'
+
+'I cannot; there is an obstacle, an insuperable obstacle.'
+
+'Tell it me,' said Cadurcis eagerly; 'I will overcome it.'
+
+'I have promised never to marry without the approbation of my mother;
+her approbation you never can obtain.'
+
+Cadurcis' countenance fell; this was an obstacle which he felt that
+even he could not overcome.
+
+'I told you your mother hated me, Venetia.' And then, as she did not
+reply, he continued, 'You confess it, I see you confess it. Once you
+flattered me I was mistaken; but now, now you confess it.'
+
+'Hatred is a word which I cannot understand,' replied Venetia. 'My
+mother has reasons for disapproving my union with you; not founded on
+the circumstances of your life, and therefore removable (for I know
+what the world says, Plantagenet, of you), but I have confidence in
+your love, and that is nothing; but founded on your character, on your
+nature; they may be unjust, but they are insuperable, and I must yield
+to them.'
+
+'You have another parent, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of almost
+irresistible softness, 'the best and greatest of men! Once you told me
+that his sanction was necessary to your marriage. I will obtain it.
+O Venetia! be mine, and we will join him; join that ill-fated and
+illustrious being who loves you with a passion second only to mine;
+him who has addressed you in language which rests on every lip, and
+has thrilled many a heart that you even can never know. My adored
+Venetia! picture to yourself, for one moment, a life with him; resting
+on my bosom, consecrated by his paternal love! Let us quit this mean
+and miserable existence, which we now pursue, which never could have
+suited us; let us shun for ever this dull and degrading life, that is
+not life, if life be what I deem it; let us fly to those beautiful
+solitudes where he communes with an inspiring nature; let us, let us
+be happy!'
+
+He uttered these last words in a tone of melting tenderness; he leant
+forward his head, and his gaze caught hers, which was fixed upon the
+water. Her hand was pressed suddenly in his; his eye glittered, his
+lip seemed still speaking; he awaited his doom.
+
+The countenance of Venetia was quite pale, but it was disturbed. You
+might see, as it were, the shadowy progress of thought, and mark the
+tumultuous passage of conflicting passions. Her mind, for a moment,
+was indeed a chaos. There was a terrible conflict between love and
+duty. At length a tear, one solitary tear, burst from her burning
+eye-ball, and stole slowly down her cheek; it relieved her pain. She
+pressed Cadurcis hand, and speaking in a hollow voice, and with a look
+vague and painful, she said, 'I am a victim, but I am resolved. I
+never will desert her who devoted herself to me.'
+
+Cadurcis quitted her hand rather abruptly, and began walking up and
+down on the turf that surrounded the fountain.
+
+'Devoted herself to you!' he exclaimed with a fiendish laugh, and
+speaking, as was his custom, between his teeth. 'Commend me to such
+devotion. Not content with depriving you of a father, now forsooth
+she must bereave you of a lover too! And this is a mother, a devoted
+mother! The cold-blooded, sullen, selfish, inexorable tyrant!'
+
+'Plantagenet!' exclaimed Venetia with great animation.
+
+'Nay, I will speak. Victim, indeed! You have ever been her slave. She
+a devoted mother! Ay! as devoted as a mother as she was dutiful as a
+wife! She has no heart; she never had a feeling. And she cajoles you
+with her love, her devotion, the stern hypocrite!'
+
+'I must leave you,' said Venetia; 'I cannot bear this.'
+
+'Oh! the truth, the truth is precious,' said Cadurcis, taking her
+hand, and preventing her from moving. 'Your mother, your devoted
+mother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.
+Yet there is another. Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow's sun shall
+light me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blend
+my tears with your father's, and I will publish to Europe the double
+infamy of your mother. I swear it solemnly. Still I stand here,
+Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, her
+dutiful son. Nay! her slave like you. She shall not murmur. I will be
+dutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy,' he added in a
+softer tone. 'Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now,
+now.'
+
+'I have spoken,' said Venetia. 'My heart may break, but my purpose
+shall not falter.'
+
+'Then my curse upon your mother's head?' said Cadurcis, with terrible
+vehemency. 'May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!'
+
+'I will listen no more,' exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she moved
+away. She had proceeded some little distance when she paused and
+looked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did not
+observe her. She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; she
+did not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them as
+abruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given. Her heart
+was nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting in
+bitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.
+She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in that
+silent spot it reached him. He joined her immediately, but with a slow
+step. When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in a
+frigid tone, 'I believe you called me?'
+
+Venetia burst into tears. 'I cannot bear to part in anger,
+Plantagenet. I wished to say farewell in kindness. I shall always pray
+for your happiness. God bless you, Plantagenet!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about to
+speak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned his
+steps in a different direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Venetia stopped for a moment to collect herself before she joined
+her aunt, but it was impossible to conceal her agitation from the
+Countess. They had not, however, been long together before they
+observed their friends in the distance, who had now quitted the
+palace. Venetia made the utmost efforts to compose herself, and not
+unsuccessful ones. She was sufficiently calm on their arrival, to
+listen, if not to converse. The Countess, with all the tact of a
+woman, covered her niece's confusion by her animated description of
+their agreeable ride, and their still more pleasant promenade; and in
+a few minutes the whole party were walking back to their carriages.
+When they had arrived at the inn, they found Lord Cadurcis, to
+whose temporary absence the Countess had alluded with some casual
+observation which she flattered herself was very satisfactory.
+Cadurcis appeared rather sullen, and the Countess, with feminine
+quickness, suddenly discovered that both herself and her niece were
+extremely fatigued, and that they had better return in the carriages.
+There was one vacant place, and some of the gentlemen must ride
+outside. Lord Cadurcis, however, said that he should return as he
+came, and the grooms might lead back the ladies' horses; and so in a
+few minutes the carriages had driven off.
+
+Our solitary equestrian, however, was no sooner mounted than he put
+his horse to its speed, and never drew in his rein until he reached
+Hyde Park Corner. The rapid motion accorded with his tumultuous mood.
+He was soon at home, gave his horse to a servant, for he had left
+his groom behind, rushed into his library, tore up a letter of Lady
+Monteagle's with a demoniac glance, and rang his bell with such force
+that it broke. His valet, not unused to such ebullitions, immediately
+appeared.
+
+'Has anything happened, Spalding?' said his lordship.
+
+'Nothing particular, my lord. Her ladyship sent every day, and called
+herself twice, but I told her your lordship was in Yorkshire.'
+
+'That was right; I saw a letter from her. When did it come?'
+
+'It has been here several days, my lord.'
+
+'Mind, I am at home to nobody; I am not in town.'
+
+The valet bowed and disappeared. Cadurcis threw himself into an easy
+chair, stretched his legs, sighed, and then swore; then suddenly
+starting up, he seized a mass of letters that were lying on the table,
+and hurled them to the other end of the apartment, dashed several
+books to the ground, kicked down several chairs that were in his way,
+and began pacing the room with his usual troubled step; and so he
+continued until the shades of twilight entered his apartment. Then he
+pulled down the other bell-rope, and Mr. Spalding again appeared.
+
+'Order posthorses for to-morrow,' said his lordship.
+
+'Where to, my lord?'
+
+'I don't know; order the horses.'
+
+Mr. Spalding again bowed and disappeared.
+
+In a few minutes he heard a great stamping and confusion in his
+master's apartment, and presently the door opened and his master's
+voice was heard calling him repeatedly in a very irritable tone.
+
+'Why are there no bells in this cursed room?' inquired Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'The ropes are broken, my lord.'
+
+'Why are they broken?'
+
+'I can't say, my lord,'
+
+'I cannot leave this house for a day but I find everything in
+confusion. Bring me some Burgundy.'
+
+'Yes, my lord. There is a young lad, my lord, called a few minutes
+back, and asked for your lordship. He says he has something very
+particular to say to your lordship. I told him your lordship was out
+of town. He said your lordship would wish very much to see him, and
+that he had come from the Abbey.'
+
+'The Abbey!' said Cadurcis, in a tone of curiosity. 'Why did you not
+show him in?'
+
+'Your lordship said you were not at home to anybody.'
+
+'Idiot! Is this anybody? Of course I would have seen him. What the
+devil do I keep you for, sir? You seem to me to have lost your head.'
+
+Mr. Spalding retired.
+
+'The Abbey! that is droll,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe some duties to the
+poor Abbey. I should not like to quit England, and leave anybody in
+trouble at the Abbey. I wish I had seen the lad. Some son of a tenant
+who has written to me, and I have never opened his letters. I am
+sorry.'
+
+In a few minutes Mr. Spalding again entered the room. 'The young lad
+has called again, my lord. He says he thinks your lordship has come to
+town, and he wishes to see your lordship very much.'
+
+'Bring lights and show him up. Show him up first.'
+
+Accordingly, a country lad was ushered into the room, although it was
+so dusky that Cadurcis could only observe his figure standing at the
+door.
+
+'Well, my good fellow,' said Cadurcis; 'what do you want? Are you in
+any trouble?'
+
+The boy hesitated.
+
+'Speak out, my good fellow; do not be alarmed. If I can serve you, or
+any one at the Abbey, I will do it.'
+
+Here Mr. Spalding entered with the lights. The lad held a cotton
+handkerchief to his face; he appeared to be weeping; all that was
+seen of his head were his locks of red hair. He seemed a country lad,
+dressed in a long green coat with silver buttons, and he twirled in
+his disengaged hand a peasant's white hat.
+
+'That will do, Spalding,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'Leave the room. Now,
+my good fellow, my time is precious; but speak out, and do not be
+afraid.'
+
+'Cadurcis!' said the lad in a sweet and trembling voice.
+
+'Gertrude, by G--d!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, starting. 'What infernal
+masquerade is this?'
+
+'Is it a greater disguise than I have to bear every hour of my life?'
+exclaimed Lady Monteagle, advancing. 'Have I not to bear a smiling
+face with a breaking heart?'
+
+'By Jove! a scene,' exclaimed Cadurcis in a piteous tone.
+
+'A scene!' exclaimed Lady Monteagle, bursting into a flood of
+indignant tears. 'Is this the way the expression of my feelings is
+ever to be stigmatised? Barbarous man!'
+
+Cadurcis stood with his back to the fireplace, with his lips
+compressed, and his hands under his coat-tails. He was resolved that
+nothing should induce him to utter a word. He looked the picture of
+dogged indifference.
+
+'I know where you have been,' continued Lady Monteagle. 'You have been
+to Richmond; you have been with Miss Herbert. Yes! I know all. I am a
+victim, but I will not be a dupe. Yorkshire indeed! Paltry coward!'
+
+Cadurcis hummed an air.
+
+'And this is Lord Cadurcis!' continued the lady. 'The sublime,
+ethereal Lord Cadurcis, condescending to the last refuge of the
+meanest, most commonplace mind, a vulgar, wretched lie! What could
+have been expected from such a mind? You may delude the world, but I
+know you. Yes, sir! I know you. And I will let everybody know you. I
+will tear away the veil of charlatanism with which you have enveloped
+yourself. The world shall at length discover the nature of the idol
+they have worshipped. All your meanness, all your falsehood, all your
+selfishness, all your baseness, shall be revealed. I may be spurned,
+but at any rate I will be revenged!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis yawned.
+
+'Insulting, pitiful wretch!' continued the lady. 'And you think that
+I wish to hear you speak! You think the sound of that deceitful voice
+has any charm for me! You are mistaken, sir! I have listened to you
+too long. It was not to remonstrate with you that I resolved to see
+you. The tones of your voice can only excite my disgust. I am here to
+speak myself; to express to you the contempt, the detestation, the
+aversion, the scorn, the hatred, which I entertain for you!'
+
+Lord Cadurcis whistled.
+
+The lady paused; she had effected the professed purport of her visit;
+she ought now to have retired, and Cadurcis would most willingly have
+opened the door for her, and bowed her out of his apartment. But her
+conduct did not exactly accord with her speech. She intimated no
+intention of moving. Her courteous friend retained his position, and
+adhered to his policy of silence. There was a dead pause, and then
+Lady Monteagle, throwing herself into a chair, went into hysterics.
+
+Lord Cadurcis, following her example, also seated himself, took up a
+book, and began to read.
+
+The hysterics became fainter and fainter; they experienced all those
+gradations of convulsive noise with which Lord Cadurcis was so well
+acquainted; at length they subsided into sobs and sighs. Finally,
+there was again silence, now only disturbed by the sound of a page
+turned by Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Suddenly the lady sprang from her seat, and firmly grasping the arm of
+Cadurcis, threw herself on her knees at his side.
+
+'Cadurcis!' she exclaimed, in a tender tone, 'do you love me?'
+
+'My dear Gertrude,' said Lord Cadurcis, coolly, but rather regretting
+he had quitted his original and less assailable posture, 'you know I
+like quiet women.'
+
+'Cadurcis, forgive me!' murmured the lady. 'Pity me! Think only how
+miserable I am!'
+
+'Your misery is of your own making,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'What
+occasion is there for any of these extraordinary proceedings? I have
+told you a thousand times that I cannot endure scenes. Female society
+is a relaxation to me; you convert it into torture. I like to sail
+upon a summer sea; and you always will insist upon a white squall.'
+
+'But you have deserted me!'
+
+'I never desert any one,' replied Cadurcis calmly, raising her from
+her supplicating attitude, and leading her to a seat. 'The last time
+we met, you banished me your presence, and told me never to speak to
+you again. Well, I obeyed your orders, as I always do.'
+
+'But I did not mean what I said,' said Lady Monteagle.
+
+'How should I know that?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Your heart ought to have assured you,' said the lady.
+
+'The tongue is a less deceptive organ than the heart,' replied her
+companion.
+
+'Cadurcis,' said the lady, looking at her strange disguise, 'what do
+you advise me to do?'
+
+'To go home; and if you like I will order my vis-a-vis for you
+directly,' and he rose from his seat to give the order.
+
+'Ah!' you are sighing to get rid of me!' said the lady, in a
+reproachful, but still subdued tone.
+
+'Why, the fact is, Gertrude, I prefer calling upon you, to your
+calling upon me. When I am fitted for your society, I seek it; and,
+when you are good-tempered, always with pleasure; when I am not in the
+mood for it, I stay away. And when I am at home, I wish to see no one.
+I have business now, and not very agreeable business. I am disturbed
+by many causes, and you could not have taken a step which could have
+given me greater annoyance than the strange one you have adopted this
+evening.'
+
+'I am sorry for it now,' said the lady, weeping. 'When shall I see you
+again?'
+
+'I will call upon you to-morrow, and pray receive me with smiles.'
+
+'I ever will,' said the lady, weeping plenteously. 'It is all my
+fault; you are ever too good. There is not in the world a kinder and
+more gentle being than yourself. I shall never forgive myself for this
+exposure.
+
+'Would you like to take anything?' said Lord Cadurcis: 'I am sure you
+must feel exhausted. You see I am drinking wine; it is my only dinner
+to-day, but I dare say there is some salvolatile in the house; I dare
+say, when my maids go into hysterics, they have it!'
+
+'Ah, mocker!' said Lady Monteagle; 'but I can pardon everything, if
+you will only let me see you.'
+
+'Au revoir! then,' said his lordship; 'I am sure the carriage must be
+ready. I hear it. Come, Mr. Gertrude, settle your wig; it is quite
+awry. By Jove! we might as well go to the Pantheon, as you are ready
+dressed. I have a domino.' And so saying, Lord Cadurcis handed the
+lady to his carriage, and pressed her lightly by the hand, as he
+reiterated his promise of calling at Monteagle House the next day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Lord Cadurcis, unhappy at home, and wearied of the commonplace
+resources of society, had passed the night in every species of
+dissipation; his principal companion being that same young nobleman in
+whose company he had been when he first met Venetia at Ranelagh. The
+morn was breaking when Cadurcis and his friend arrived at his door.
+They had settled to welcome the dawn with a beaker of burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Now, my dear Scrope,' said Cadurcis, 'now for quiet and philosophy.
+The laughter of those infernal women, the rattle of those cursed dice,
+and the oaths of those ruffians are still ringing in my ears. Let us
+compose ourselves, and moralise.'
+
+Accustomed to their master's habits, who generally turned night into
+day, the household were all on the alert; a blazing fire greeted them,
+and his lordship ordered instantly a devil and the burnt Burgundy.
+
+'Sit you down here, my Scrope; that is the seat of honour, and you
+shall have it. What is this, a letter? and marked "Urgent," and in a
+man's hand. It must be read. Some good fellow nabbed by a bailiff,
+or planted by his mistress. Signals of distress! We must assist our
+friends.'
+
+The flame of the fire fell upon Lord Cadurcis' face as he read the
+letter; he was still standing, while his friend was stretched out in
+his easy chair, and inwardly congratulating himself on his comfortable
+prospects. The countenance of Cadurcis did not change, but he bit
+his lip, and read the letter twice, and turned it over, but with a
+careless air; and then he asked what o'clock it was. The servant
+informed him, and left the room.
+
+'Scrope,' said Lord Cadurcis, quietly, and still standing, 'are you
+very drunk?'
+
+'My dear fellow, I am as fresh as possible; you will see what justice
+I shall do to the Burgundy.'
+
+'"Burgundy to-morrow," as the Greek proverb saith,' observed Lord
+Cadurcis. 'Read that.'
+
+His companion had the pleasure of perusing a challenge from Lord
+Monteagle, couched in no gentle terms, and requesting an immediate
+meeting.
+
+'Well, I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life,' said Lord
+Scrope. 'Does he want satisfaction because you have planted her?'
+
+'D--n her!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'She has occasioned me a thousand
+annoyances, and now she has spoilt our supper. I don't know, though;
+he wants to fight quickly, let us fight at once. I will send him a
+cartel now, and then we can have our Burgundy. You will go out with
+me, of course? Hyde Park, six o'clock, and short swords.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis accordingly sat down, wrote his letter, and dispatched
+it by Mr. Spalding to Monteagle House, with peremptory instructions to
+bring back an answer. The companions then turned to their devil.
+
+'This is a bore, Cadurcis,' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'It is. I cannot say I am very valorous in a bad cause. I do not like
+to fight "upon compulsion," I confess. If I had time to screw my
+courage up, I dare say I should do it very well. I dare say, for
+instance, if ever I am publicly executed, I shall die game.'
+
+'God forbid!' said Lord Scrope. 'I say, Cadurcis, I would not drink
+any Burgundy if I were you. I shall take a glass of cold water.'
+
+'Ah! you are only a second, and so you want to cool your valour,' said
+Cadurcis. 'You have all the fun.'
+
+'But how came this blow-up?' inquired Lord Scrope. 'Letters
+discovered, eh? Because I thought you never saw her now?'
+
+'By Jove! my dear fellow, she has been the whole evening here
+masquerading it like a very vixen, as she is; and now she has
+committed us both. I have burnt her letters, without reading them,
+for the last month. Now I call that honourable; because, as I had no
+longer any claim on her heart, I would not think of trenching on her
+correspondence. But honour, what is honour in these dishonourable
+days? This is my reward. She contrived to enter my house this evening,
+dressed like a farmer's boy, and you may imagine what ensued; rage,
+hysterics, and repentance. I am sure if Monteagle had seen me, he
+would not have been jealous. I never opened my mouth, but, like a
+fool, sent her home in my carriage; and now I am going to be run
+through the body for my politeness.'
+
+In this light strain, blended, however, with more decorous feeling on
+the part of Lord Scrope, the young men conversed until the messenger's
+return with Lord Monteagle's answer. In Hyde Park, in the course of an
+hour, himself and Lord Cadurcis, attended by their friends, were to
+meet.
+
+'Well, there is nothing like having these affairs over,' said
+Cadurcis; 'and to confess the truth, my dear Scrope, I should not much
+care if Monteagle were to despatch me to my fathers; for, in the whole
+course of my miserable life, and miserable, whatever the world may
+think, it has been, I never felt much more wretched than I have during
+the last four-and-twenty hours. By Jove! do you know I was going to
+leave England this morning, and I have ordered my horses, too.'
+
+'Leave England!'
+
+'Yes, leave England; and where I never intended to return.'
+
+'Well, you are the oddest person I ever knew, Cadurcis. I should have
+thought you the happiest person that ever existed. Everybody admires,
+everybody envies you. You seem to have everything that man can desire.
+Your life is a perpetual triumph.'
+
+'Ah! my dear Scrope, there is a skeleton in every house. If you knew
+all, you would not envy me.'
+
+'Well, we have not much time,' said Lord Scrope; 'have you any
+arrangements to make?'
+
+'None. My property goes to George, who is my only relative, without
+the necessity of a will, otherwise I should leave everything to him,
+for he is a good fellow, and my blood is in his veins. Just you
+remember, Scrope, that I will be buried with my mother. That is all;
+and now let us get ready.'
+
+The sun had just risen when the young men went forth, and the day
+promised to be as brilliant as the preceding one. Not a soul was
+stirring in the courtly quarter in which Cadurcis resided; even the
+last watchman had stolen to repose. They called a hackney coach at the
+first stand they reached, and were soon at the destined spot. They
+were indeed before their time, and strolling by the side of the
+Serpentine, Cadurcis said, 'Yesterday morning was one of the happiest
+of my life, Scrope, and I was in hopes that an event would have
+occurred in the course of the day that might have been my salvation.
+If it had, by-the-bye, I should not have returned to town, and got
+into this cursed scrape. However, the gods were against me, and now I
+am reckless.'
+
+Now Lord Monteagle and his friend, who was Mr. Horace Pole, appeared.
+Cadurcis advanced, and bowed; Lord Monteagle returned his bow,
+stiffly, but did not speak. The seconds chose their ground, the
+champions disembarrassed themselves of their coats, and their swords
+crossed. It was a brief affair. After a few passes, Cadurcis received
+a slight wound in his arm, while his weapon pierced his antagonist in
+the breast. Lord Monteagle dropped his sword and fell.
+
+'You had better fly, Lord Cadurcis,' said Mr. Horace Pole. 'This is a
+bad business, I fear; we have a surgeon at hand, and he can help us to
+the coach that is waiting close by.'
+
+'I thank you, sir, I never fly,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'and I shall wait
+here until I see your principal safely deposited in his carriage; he
+will have no objection to my friend, Lord Scrope, assisting him, who,
+by his presence to-day, has only fulfilled one of the painful duties
+that society imposes upon us.'
+
+The surgeon gave an unfavourable report of the wound, which he dressed
+on the field. Lord Monteagle was then borne to his carriage, which was
+at hand, and Lord Scrope, the moment he had seen the equipage move
+slowly off, returned to his friend.
+
+'Well Cadurcis,' he exclaimed in an anxious voice, 'I hope you have
+not killed him. What will you do now?'
+
+'I shall go home, and await the result, my dear Scrope. I am sorry for
+you, for this may get you into trouble. For myself, I care nothing.'
+
+'You bleed!' said Lord Scrope.
+
+'A scratch. I almost wish our lots had been the reverse. Come, Scrope,
+help me on with my coat. Yesterday I lost my heart, last night I lost
+my money, and perhaps to-morrow I shall lose my arm. It seems we are
+not in luck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+It has been well observed, that no spectacle is so ridiculous as the
+British public in one of its periodical fits of morality. In general,
+elopements, divorces, and family quarrels pass with little notice. We
+read the scandal, talk about it for a day, and forget it. But, once in
+six or seven years, our virtue becomes outrageous. We cannot suffer
+the laws of religion and decency to be violated. We must make a
+stand against vice. We must teach libertines that the English people
+appreciate the importance of domestic ties. Accordingly, some
+unfortunate man, in no respect more depraved than hundreds whose
+offences have been treated with lenity, is singled out as an expiatory
+sacrifice. If he has children, they are to be taken from him. If he
+has a profession, he is to be driven from it. He is cut by the higher
+orders, and hissed by the lower. He is, in truth, a sort of whipping
+boy, by whose vicarious agonies all the other transgressors of the
+same class are, it is supposed, sufficiently chastised. We reflect
+very complacently on our own severity, and compare, with great pride,
+the high standard of morals established in England, with the Parisian
+laxity. At length, our anger is satiated, our victim is ruined and
+heart-broken, and our virtue goes quietly to sleep for seven years
+more.
+
+These observations of a celebrated writer apply to the instance of
+Lord Cadurcis; he was the periodical victim, the scapegoat of English
+morality, sent into the wilderness with all the crimes and curses of
+the multitude on his head. Lord Cadurcis had certainly committed a
+great crime: not his intrigue with Lady Monteagle, for that surely was
+not an unprecedented offence; not his duel with her husband, for after
+all it was a duel in self-defence; and, at all events, divorces
+and duels, under any circumstances, would scarcely have excited or
+authorised the storm which was now about to burst over the late
+spoiled child of society. But Lord Cadurcis had been guilty of the
+offence which, of all offences, is punished most severely: Lord
+Cadurcis had been overpraised. He had excited too warm an interest;
+and the public, with its usual justice, was resolved to chastise him
+for its own folly.
+
+There are no fits of caprice so hasty and so violent as those of
+society. Society, indeed, is all passion and no heart. Cadurcis, in
+allusion to his sudden and singular success, had been in the habit of
+saying to his intimates, that he 'woke one morning and found himself
+famous.' He might now observe, 'I woke one morning and found myself
+infamous.' Before twenty-four hours had passed over his duel with Lord
+Monteagle, he found himself branded by every journal in London, as an
+unprincipled and unparalleled reprobate. The public, without waiting
+to think or even to inquire after the truth, instantly selected as
+genuine the most false and the most flagrant of the fifty libellous
+narratives that were circulated of the transaction. Stories,
+inconsistent with themselves, were all alike eagerly believed, and
+what evidence there might be for any one of them, the virtuous people,
+by whom they were repeated, neither cared nor knew. The public, in
+short, fell into a passion with their darling, and, ashamed of their
+past idolatry, nothing would satisfy them but knocking the divinity on
+the head.
+
+Until Lord Monteagle, to the great regret of society, who really
+wished him to die in order that his antagonist might commit murder,
+was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis never quitted his house, and
+he was not a little surprised that scarcely a human being called upon
+him except his cousin, who immediately flew to his succour. George,
+indeed, would gladly have spared Cadurcis any knowledge of the storm
+that was raging against him, and which he flattered himself would blow
+over before Cadurcis was again abroad; but he was so much with
+his cousin, and Cadurcis was so extremely acute and naturally so
+suspicious, that this was impossible. Moreover, his absolute desertion
+by his friends, and the invectives and the lampoons with which the
+newspapers abounded, and of which he was the subject, rendered any
+concealment out of the question, and poor George passed his life in
+running about contradicting falsehoods, stating truth, fighting his
+cousin's battles, and then reporting to him, in the course of the day,
+the state of the campaign.
+
+Cadurcis, being a man of infinite sensibility, suffered tortures. He
+had been so habituated to panegyric, that the slightest criticism
+ruffled him, and now his works had suddenly become the subject of
+universal and outrageous attack; having lived only in a cloud of
+incense, he suddenly found himself in a pillory of moral indignation;
+his writings, his habits, his temper, his person, were all alike
+ridiculed and vilified. In a word, Cadurcis, the petted, idolised,
+spoiled Cadurcis, was enduring that charming vicissitude in a
+prosperous existence, styled a reaction; and a conqueror, who deemed
+himself invincible, suddenly vanquished, could scarcely be more
+thunderstruck, or feel more impotently desperate.
+
+The tortures of his mind, however, which this sudden change in his
+position and in the opinions of society, were of themselves competent
+to occasion to one of so impetuous and irritable a temperament, and
+who ever magnified both misery and delight with all the creative
+power of a brooding imagination, were excited in his case even to the
+liveliest agony, when he reminded himself of the situation in which he
+was now placed with Venetia. All hope of ever obtaining her hand had
+now certainly vanished, and he doubted whether even her love could
+survive the quick occurrence, after his ardent vows, of this degrading
+and mortifying catastrophe. He execrated Lady Monteagle with the most
+heartfelt rage, and when he remembered that all this time the world
+believed him the devoted admirer of this vixen, his brain was
+stimulated almost to the verge of insanity. His only hope of the
+truth reaching Venetia was through the medium of his cousin, and he
+impressed daily upon Captain Cadurcis the infinite consolation it
+would prove to him, if he could contrive to make her aware of the real
+facts of the case. According to the public voice, Lady Monteagle at
+his solicitation had fled to his house, and remained there, and her
+husband forced his entrance into the mansion in the middle of the
+night, while his wife escaped disguised in Lord Cadurcis' clothes.
+She did not, however, reach Monteagle House in time enough to
+escape detection by her lord, who had instantly sought and obtained
+satisfaction from his treacherous friend. All the monstrous inventions
+of the first week had now subsided into this circumstantial and
+undoubted narrative; at least this was the version believed by those
+who had been Cadurcis' friends. They circulated the authentic tale
+with the most considerate assiduity, and shook their heads, and said
+it was too bad, and that he must not be countenanced.
+
+The moment Lord Monteagle was declared out of danger, Lord Cadurcis
+made his appearance in public. He walked into Brookes', and everybody
+seemed suddenly so deeply interested in the newspapers, that you might
+have supposed they had brought intelligence of a great battle, or a
+revolution, or a change of ministry at the least. One or two men spoke
+to him, who had never presumed to address him at any other time, and
+he received a faint bow from a distinguished nobleman, who had ever
+professed for him the greatest consideration and esteem.
+
+Cadurcis mounted his horse and rode down to the House of Lords. There
+was a debate of some public interest, and a considerable crowd was
+collected round the Peers' entrance. The moment Lord Cadurcis was
+recognised, the multitude began hooting. He was agitated, and grinned
+a ghastly smile at the rabble. But he dismounted, without further
+annoyance, and took his seat. Not a single peer of his own party spoke
+to him. The leader of the Opposition, indeed, bowed to him, and, in
+the course of the evening, he received, from one or two more of his
+party, some formal evidences of frigid courtesy. The tone of his
+reception by his friends could not be concealed from the ministerial
+party. It was soon detected, and generally whispered, that Lord
+Cadurcis was cut. Nevertheless, he sat out the debate and voted. The
+house broke up. He felt lonely; his old friend, the Bishop of----, who
+had observed all that had occurred, and who might easily have avoided
+him, came forward, however, in the most marked manner, and, in a tone
+which everybody heard, said, 'How do you do, Lord Cadurcis? I am very
+glad to see you,' shaking his hand most cordially. This made a great
+impression. Several of the Tory Lords, among them Venetia's uncle, now
+advanced and sainted him. He received their advances with a haughty,
+but not disdainful, courtesy; but when his Whig friends, confused, now
+hurried to encumber him with their assistance, he treated them with
+the scorn which they well deserved.
+
+'Will you take a seat in my carriage home, Lord Cadurcis?' said his
+leader, for it was notorious that Cadurcis had been mobbed on his
+arrival.
+
+'Thank you, my lord,' said Cadurcis, speaking very audibly, 'I
+prefer returning as I came. We are really both of us such unpopular
+personages, that your kindness would scarcely be prudent.'
+
+The house had been full; there was a great scuffle and confusion as
+the peers were departing; the mob, now considerable, were prepared for
+the appearance of Lord Cadurcis, and their demeanour was menacing.
+Some shouted out his name; then it was repeated with odious and
+vindictive epithets, followed by ferocious yells. A great many
+peers collected round Cadurcis, and entreated him not to return on
+horseback. It must be confessed that genuine and considerable feeling
+was now shown by all men of all parties. And indeed to witness this
+young, and noble, and gifted creature, but a few days back the idol
+of the nation, and from whom a word, a glance even, was deemed the
+greatest and most gratifying distinction, whom all orders, classes,
+and conditions of men had combined to stimulate with multiplied
+adulation, with all the glory and ravishing delights of the world, as
+it were, forced upon him, to see him thus assailed with the savage
+execrations of all those vile things who exult in the fall of
+everything that is great, and the abasement of everything that is
+noble, was indeed a spectacle which might have silenced malice and
+satisfied envy!
+
+'My carriage is most heartily at your service, Lord Cadurcis,' said
+the noble leader of the government in the upper house; 'you can enter
+it without the slightest suspicion by these ruffians.' 'Lord Cadurcis;
+my dear lord; my good lord, for our sakes, if not for your own;
+Cadurcis, dear Cadurcis, my good Cadurcis, it is madness, folly,
+insanity; a mob will do anything, and an English mob is viler than
+all; for Heaven's sake!' Such were a few of the varied exclamations
+which resounded on all sides, but which produced on the person to whom
+they were addressed only the result of his desiring the attendant to
+call for his horses.
+
+The lobby was yet full; it was a fine thing in the light of the
+archway to see Cadurcis spring into his saddle. Instantly there was a
+horrible yell. Yet in spite of all their menaces, the mob were for a
+time awed by his courage; they made way for him; he might even have
+rode quickly on for some few yards, but he would not; he reined his
+fiery steed into a slow but stately pace, and, with a countenance
+scornful and composed, he continued his progress, apparently
+unconscious of impediment. Meanwhile, the hooting continued without
+abatement, increasing indeed, after the first comparative pause,
+in violence and menace. At length a bolder ruffian, excited by the
+uproar, rushed forward and seized Cadurcis' bridle. Cadurcis struck
+the man over the eyes with his whip, and at the same time touched his
+horse with his spur, and the assailant was dashed to the ground. This
+seemed a signal for a general assault. It commenced with hideous
+yells. His friends at the house, who had watched everything with the
+keenest interest, immediately directed all the constables who were at
+hand to rush to his succour; hitherto they had restrained the police,
+lest their interference might stimulate rather than repress the mob.
+The charge of the constables was well timed; they laid about them with
+their staves; you might have heard the echo of many a broken crown.
+Nevertheless, though they dispersed the mass, they could not penetrate
+the immediate barrier that surrounded Lord Cadurcis, whose only
+defence indeed, for they had cut off his groom, was the terrors of his
+horse's heels, and whose managed motions he regulated with admirable
+skill, now rearing, now prancing, now kicking behind, and now
+turning round with a quick yet sweeping motion, before which the mob
+retreated. Off his horse, however, they seemed resolved to drag him;
+and it was not difficult to conceive, if they succeeded, what must
+be his eventual fate. They were infuriate, but his contact with his
+assailants fortunately prevented their co-mates from hurling stones at
+him from the fear of endangering their own friends.
+
+A messenger to the Horse Guards had been sent from the House of Lords;
+but, before the military could arrive, and fortunately (for, with
+their utmost expedition, they must have been too late), a rumour of
+the attack got current in the House of Commons. Captain Cadurcis,
+Lord Scrope, and a few other young men instantly rushed out; and,
+ascertaining the truth, armed with good cudgels and such other
+effective weapons as they could instantly obtain, they mounted their
+horses and charged the nearly-triumphant populace, dealing such
+vigorous blows that their efforts soon made a visible diversion in
+Lord Cadurcis' favour. It is difficult, indeed, to convey an idea of
+the exertions and achievements of Captain Cadurcis; no Paladin of
+chivalry ever executed such marvels on a swarm of Paynim slaves; and
+many a bloody coxcomb and broken limb bore witness in Petty France
+that night to his achievements. Still the mob struggled and were not
+daunted by the delay in immolating their victim. As long as they had
+only to fight against men in plain clothes, they were valorous and
+obstinate enough; but the moment that the crests of a troop of Horse
+Guards were seen trotting down Parliament Street, everybody ran away,
+and in a few minutes all Palace-yard was as still as if the genius of
+the place rendered a riot impossible.
+
+Lord Cadurcis thanked his friends, who were profuse in their
+compliments to his pluck. His manner, usually playful with his
+intimates of his own standing, was, however, rather grave at present,
+though very cordial. He asked them home to dine with him; but they
+were obliged to decline his invitation, as a division was expected;
+so, saying 'Good-bye, George, perhaps I shall see you to-night,'
+Cadurcis rode rapidly off.
+
+With Cadurcis there was but one step from the most exquisite
+sensitiveness to the most violent defiance. The experience of this
+day had entirely cured him of his previous nervous deference to the
+feelings of society. Society had outraged him, and now he resolved to
+outrage society. He owed society nothing; his reception at the House
+of Lords and the riot in Palace-yard had alike cleared his accounts
+with all orders of men, from the highest to the lowest. He had
+experienced, indeed, some kindness that he could not forget, but only
+from his own kin, and those who with his associations were the same as
+kin. His memory dwelt with gratification on his cousin's courageous
+zeal, and still more on the demonstration which Masham had made in his
+favour, which, if possible, argued still greater boldness and sincere
+regard. That was a trial of true affection, and an instance of moral
+courage, which Cadurcis honoured, and which he never could forget. He
+was anxious about Venetia; he wished to stand as well with her as he
+deserved; no better; but he was grieved to think she could believe all
+those infamous tales at present current respecting himself. But, for
+the rest of the world, he delivered them all to the most absolute
+contempt, disgust, and execration; he resolved, from this time,
+nothing should ever induce him again to enter society, or admit the
+advances of a single civilised ruffian who affected to be social. The
+country, the people, their habits, laws, manners, customs, opinions,
+and everything connected with them, were viewed with the same
+jaundiced eye; and his only object now was to quit England, to which
+he resolved never to return.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+Venetia was, perhaps, not quite so surprised as the rest of her
+friends, when, on their return to Richmond, Lord Cadurcis was not
+again seen. She was very unhappy: she recalled the scene in the
+garden at Cherbury some years back; and, with the knowledge of the
+impetuosity of his temper, she believed she should never see him
+again. Poor Plantagenet, who loved her so much, and whose love she so
+fully returned! why might they not be happy? She neither doubted the
+constancy of his affection, nor their permanent felicity if they
+were united. She shared none of her mother's apprehensions or her
+prejudices, but she was the victim of duty and her vow. In the course
+of four-and-twenty hours, strange rumours were afloat respecting Lord
+Cadurcis; and the newspapers on the ensuing morning told the truth,
+and more than the truth. Venetia could not doubt as to the duel or the
+elopement; but, instead of feeling indignation, she attributed what
+had occurred to the desperation of his mortified mind; and she visited
+on herself all the fatal consequences that had happened. At present,
+however, all her emotions were quickly absorbed in the one terrible
+fear that Lord Monteagle would die. In that dreadful and urgent
+apprehension every other sentiment merged. It was impossible to
+conceal her misery, and she entreated her mother to return to town.
+
+Very differently, however, was the catastrophe viewed by Lady Annabel.
+She, on the contrary, triumphed in her sagacity and her prudence. She
+hourly congratulated herself on being the saviour of her daughter;
+and though she refrained from indulging in any open exultation
+over Venetia's escape and her own profound discretion, it was,
+nevertheless, impossible for her to conceal from her daughter her
+infinite satisfaction and self-congratulation. While Venetia was half
+broken-hearted, her mother silently returned thanks to Providence for
+the merciful dispensation which had exempted her child from so much
+misery.
+
+The day after their return to town, Captain Cadurcis called upon them.
+Lady Annabel never mentioned the name of his cousin; but George,
+finding no opportunity of conversing with Venetia alone, and being,
+indeed, too much excited to speak on any other subject, plunged at
+once into the full narrative; defended Lord Cadurcis, abused the
+Monteagles and the slanderous world, and, in spite of Lady Annabel's
+ill-concealed dissatisfaction, favoured her with an exact and
+circumstantial account of everything that had happened, how it
+happened, when it happened, and where it happened; concluding by a
+declaration that Cadurcis was the best fellow that ever lived; the
+most unfortunate, and the most ill-used; and that, if he were to be
+hunted down for an affair like this, over which he had no control,
+there was not a man in London who could be safe for ten minutes. All
+that George effected by his zeal, was to convince Lady Annabel that
+his cousin had entirely corrupted, him; she looked upon her former
+favourite as another victim; but Venetia listened in silence, and not
+without solace.
+
+Two or three days after the riot at the House of Lords, Captain
+Cadurcis burst into his cousin's room with a triumphant countenance.
+'Well, Plantagenet!' he exclaimed, 'I have done it; I have seen
+her alone, and I have put you as right as possible. Nothing can be
+better.'
+
+'Tell me, my dear fellow,' said Lord Cadurcis, eagerly.
+
+'Well, you know, I have called half-a-dozen times,' said George, 'but
+either Lady Annabel was there, or they were not at home, or something
+always occurred to prevent any private communication. But I met her
+to-day with her aunt; I joined them immediately, and kept with them
+the whole morning. I am sorry to say she, I mean Venetia, is devilish
+ill; she is, indeed. However, her aunt now is quite on your side, and
+very kind, I can tell you that. I put her right at first, and she has
+fought our battle bravely. Well, they stopped to call somewhere, and
+Venetia was so unwell that she would not get out, and I was left alone
+in the carriage with her. Time was precious, and I opened at once. I
+told her how wretched you were, and that the only thing that made you
+miserable was about her, because you were afraid she would think you
+so profligate, and all that. I went through it all; told her the exact
+truth, which, indeed, she had before heard; but now I assured her, on
+my honour, that it was exactly what happened; and she said she did not
+doubt it, and could not, from some conversation which you had together
+the day we were all at Hampton Court, and that she felt that nothing
+could have been premeditated, and fully believed that everything had
+occurred as I said; and, however she deplored it, she felt the same
+for you as ever, and prayed for your happiness. Then she told me what
+misery the danger of Lord Monteagle had occasioned her; that she
+thought his death must have been the forerunner of her own; but the
+moment he was declared out of danger seemed the happiest hour of
+her life. I told her you were going to leave England, and asked her
+whether she had any message for you; and she said, "Tell him he is the
+same to me that he has always been." So, when her aunt returned, I
+jumped out and ran on to you at once.'
+
+'You are the best fellow that ever lived, George,' said Lord Cadurcis;
+'and now the world may go to the devil!'
+
+This message from Venetia acted upon Lord Cadurcis like a charm. It
+instantly cleared his mind. He shut himself up in his house for a
+week, and wrote a farewell to England, perhaps the most masterly
+effusion of his powerful spirit. It abounded in passages of
+overwhelming passion, and almost Satanic sarcasm. Its composition
+entirely relieved his long-brooding brain. It contained, moreover,
+a veiled address to Venetia, delicate, tender, and irresistibly
+affecting. He appended also to the publication, the verses he had
+previously addressed to her.
+
+This volume, which was purchased with an avidity exceeding even
+the eagerness with which his former productions had been received,
+exercised extraordinary influence on public opinion. It enlisted the
+feelings of the nation on his side in a struggle with a coterie. It
+was suddenly discovered that Lord Cadurcis was the most injured of
+mortals, and far more interesting than ever. The address to the
+unknown object of his adoration, and the verses to Venetia, mystified
+everybody. Lady Monteagle was universally abused, and all sympathised
+with the long-treasured and baffled affection of the unhappy poet.
+Cadurcis, however, was not to be conciliated. He left his native
+shores in a blaze of glory, but with the accents of scorn still
+quivering on his lip.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK IV.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The still waters of the broad and winding lake reflected the lustre
+of the cloudless sky. The gentle declinations of the green hills that
+immediately bordered the lake, with an undulating margin that now
+retired into bays of the most picturesque form, now jutted forth
+into woody promontories, and then opened into valleys of sequestered
+beauty, which the eye delighted to pursue, were studded with white
+villas, and cottages scarcely less graceful, and occasionally with
+villages, and even towns; here and there rose a solitary chapel; and,
+scarcely less conspicuous, the black spire of some cypress strikingly
+contrasting with the fair buildings or the radiant foliage that in
+general surrounded them. A rampart of azure mountains raised their
+huge forms behind the nearer hills; and occasionally peering over
+these, like spectres on some brilliant festival, were the ghastly
+visages of the Alpine glaciers.
+
+It was within an hour of sunset, and the long shadows had fallen upon
+the waters; a broad boat, with a variegated awning, rowed by two men,
+approached the steps of a marble terrace. The moment they had reached
+their point of destination, and had fastened the boat to its moorings,
+the men landed their oars, and immediately commenced singing a simple
+yet touching melody, wherewith it was their custom to apprise their
+employers of their arrival.
+
+'Will they come forth this evening, think you, Vittorio?' said one
+boatman to the other.
+
+'By our holy mother, I hope so!' replied his comrade, 'for this light
+air that is now rising will do the young signora more good than fifty
+doctors.'
+
+'They are good people,' said Vittorio. 'It gives me more pleasure to
+row them than any persons who ever hired us.'
+
+'Ay, ay!' said his comrade, 'It was a lucky day when we first put an
+oar in the lake for them, heretics though they be.'
+
+'But they may he converted yet,' said his companion; 'for, as I was
+saying to Father Francisco last night, if the young signora dies, it
+is a sad thing to think what will become of her.'
+
+'And what said the good Father?'
+
+'He shook his head,' said Vittorio.
+
+'When Father Francisco shakes his head, he means a great deal,' said
+his companion.
+
+At this moment a servant appeared on the terrace, to say the ladies
+were at hand; and very shortly afterwards Lady Annabel Herbert, with
+her daughter leaning on her arm, descended the steps, and entered the
+boat. The countenances of the boatmen brightened when they saw them,
+and they both made their inquiries after the health of Venetia with
+tenderness and feeling.
+
+'Indeed, my good friends,' said Venetia, 'I think you are right, and
+the lake will cure me after all.'
+
+'The blessing of the lake be upon you, signora,' said the boatmen,
+crossing themselves.
+
+Just as they were moving off, came running Mistress Pauncefort,
+quite breathless. 'Miss Herbert's fur cloak, my lady; you told me to
+remember, my lady, and I cannot think how I forgot it. But I really
+have been so very hot all day, that such a thing as furs never entered
+my head. And for my part, until I travelled, I always thought furs
+were only worn in Russia. But live and learn, as I say.'
+
+They were now fairly floating on the calm, clear waters, and the
+rising breeze was as grateful to Venetia as the boatmen had imagined.
+
+A return of those symptoms which had before disquieted Lady Annabel
+for her daughter, and which were formerly the cause of their residence
+at Weymouth, had induced her, in compliance with the advice of her
+physicians, to visit Italy; but the fatigue of travel had exhausted
+the energies of Venetia (for in those days the Alps were not passed in
+luxurious travelling carriages) on the very threshold of the promised
+land; and Lady Annabel had been prevailed upon to take a villa on the
+Lago Maggiore, where Venetia had passed two months, still suffering
+indeed from great debility, but not without advantage.
+
+There are few spots more favoured by nature than the Italian lakes and
+their vicinity, combining, as they do, the most sublime features
+of mountainous scenery with all the softer beauties and the varied
+luxuriance of the plain. As the still, bright lake is to the rushing
+and troubled cataract, is Italy to Switzerland and Savoy. Emerging
+from the chaotic ravines and the wild gorges of the Alps, the happy
+land breaks upon us like a beautiful vision. We revel in the sunny
+light, after the unearthly glare of eternal snow. Our sight seems
+renovated as we throw our eager glance over those golden plains,
+clothed with such picturesque trees, sparkling with such graceful
+villages, watered by such noble rivers, and crowned with such
+magnificent cities; and all bathed and beaming in an atmosphere so
+soft and radiant! Every isolated object charms us with its beautiful
+novelty: for the first time we gaze on palaces; the garden, the
+terrace, and the statue, recall our dreams beneath a colder sky;
+and we turn from these to catch the hallowed form of some cupolaed
+convent, crowning the gentle elevation of some green hill, and flanked
+by the cypress or the pine.
+
+The influence of all these delightful objects and of this benign
+atmosphere on the frame and mind of Venetia had been considerable.
+After the excitement of the last year of her life, and the harassing
+and agitating scenes with which it closed, she found a fine solace
+in this fair land and this soft sky, which the sad perhaps can alone
+experience. Its repose alone afforded a consolatory contrast to the
+turbulent pleasure of the great world. She looked back upon those
+glittering and noisy scenes with an aversion which was only modified
+by her self-congratulation at her escape from their exhausting and
+contaminating sphere. Here she recurred, but with all the advantages
+of a change of scene, and a scene so rich in novel and interesting
+associations, to the calm tenor of those days, when not a thought ever
+seemed to escape from Cherbury and its spell-bound seclusion. Her
+books, her drawings, her easel, and her harp, were now again her chief
+pursuits; pursuits, however, influenced by the genius of the land in
+which she lived, and therefore invested with a novel interest; for
+the literature and the history of the country naturally attracted her
+attention; and its fair aspects and sweet sounds, alike inspired her
+pencil and her voice. She had, in the society of her mother, indeed,
+the advantage of communing with a mind not less refined and cultivated
+than her own. Lady Annabel was a companion whose conversation, from
+reading and reflection, was eminently suggestive; and their hours,
+though they lived in solitude, never hung heavy. They were always
+employed, and always cheerful. But Venetia was not more than cheerful.
+Still very young, and gifted with an imaginative and therefore
+sanguine mind, the course of circumstances, however, had checked her
+native spirit, and shaded a brow which, at her time of life and with
+her temperament, should have been rather fanciful than pensive. If
+Venetia, supported by the disciplined energies of a strong mind, had
+schooled herself into not looking back to the past with grief, her
+future was certainly not tinged with the Iris pencil of Hope. It
+seemed to her that it was her fate that life should bring her no
+happier hours than those she now enjoyed. They did not amount to
+exquisite bliss. That was a conviction which, by no process of
+reflection, however ingenious, could she delude herself to credit.
+Venetia struggled to take refuge in content, a mood of mind perhaps
+less natural than it should be to one so young, so gifted, and so
+fair!
+
+Their villa was surrounded by a garden in the ornate and artificial
+style of the country. A marble terrace overlooked the lake, crowned
+with many a statue and vase that held the aloe. The laurel and the
+cactus, the cypress and the pine, filled the air with their fragrance,
+or charmed the eye with their rarity and beauty: the walks were
+festooned with the vine, and they could raise their hands and pluck
+the glowing fruit which screened them, from the beam by which, it was
+ripened. In this enchanted domain Venetia might be often seen, a
+form even fairer than the sculptured nymphs among which she glided,
+catching the gentle breeze that played upon the surface of the lake,
+or watching the white sail that glittered in the sun as it floated
+over its purple bosom.
+
+Yet this beautiful retreat Venetia was soon to quit, and she thought
+of her departure with a sigh. Her mother had been warned to avoid
+the neighbourhood of the mountains in the winter, and the autumn was
+approaching its close. If Venetia could endure the passage of the
+Apennines, it was the intention of Lady Annabel to pass the winter
+on the coast of the Mediterranean; otherwise to settle in one of the
+Lombard cities. At all events, in the course of a few weeks they were
+to quit their villa on the lake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+A very few days after this excursion on the lake, Lady Annabel and her
+daughter were both surprised and pleased with a visit from a friend
+whose appearance was certainly very unexpected; this was Captain
+Cadurcis. On his way from Switzerland to Sicily, he had heard of their
+residence in the neighbourhood, and had crossed over from Arona to
+visit them.
+
+The name of Cadurcis was still dear to Venetia, and George had
+displayed such gallantry and devotion in all his cousin's troubles,
+that she was personally attached to him; he had always been a
+favourite of her mother; his arrival, therefore, was welcomed by each
+of the ladies with great cordiality. He accepted the hospitality which
+Lady Annabel offered him, and remained with them a week, a period
+which they spent in visiting the most beautiful and interesting spots
+of the lake, with which they were already sufficiently familiar to
+allow them to prove guides as able as they were agreeable. These
+excursions, indeed, contributed to the pleasure and happiness of the
+whole party. There was about Captain Cadurcis a natural cheerfulness
+which animated every one in his society; a gay simplicity, difficult
+to define, but very charming, and which, without effort, often
+produced deeper impressions than more brilliant and subtle qualities.
+Left alone in the world, and without a single advantage save those
+that nature had conferred upon him, it had often been remarked,
+that in whatever circle he moved George Cadurcis always became the
+favourite and everywhere made friends. His sweet and engaging temper
+had perhaps as much contributed to his professional success as his
+distinguished gallantry and skill. Other officers, no doubt, were
+as brave and able as Captain Cadurcis, but his commanders always
+signalled him out for favourable notice; and, strange to say, his
+success, instead of exciting envy and ill-will, pleased even his less
+fortunate competitors. However hard another might feel his own lot, it
+was soothed by the reflection that George Cadurcis was at least
+more fortunate. His popularity, however, was not confined to his
+profession. His cousin's noble guardian, whom George had never seen
+until he ventured to call upon his lordship on his return to England,
+now looked upon him almost as a son, and omitted no opportunity of
+advancing his interests in the world. Of all the members of the House
+of Commons he was perhaps the only one that everybody praised, and
+his success in the world of fashion had been as remarkable as in his
+profession. These great revolutions in his life and future prospects
+had, however, not produced the slightest change in his mind and
+manners; and this was perhaps the secret spell of his prosperity.
+Though we are most of us the creatures of affectation, simplicity has
+a great charm, especially when attended, as in the present instance,
+with many agreeable and some noble qualities. In spite of the rough
+fortunes of his youth, the breeding of Captain Cadurcis was high; the
+recollection of the race to which he belonged had never been forgotten
+by him. He was proud of his family. He had one of those light hearts,
+too, which enable their possessors to acquire accomplishments with
+facility: he had a sweet voice, a quick ear, a rapid eye. He
+acquired a language as some men learn an air. Then his temper was
+imperturbable, and although the most obliging and kindest-hearted
+creature that ever lived, there was a native dignity about him which
+prevented his goodnature from being abused. No sense of interest
+either could ever induce him to act contrary to the dictates of his
+judgment and his heart. At the risk of offending his patron, George
+sided with his cousin, although he had deeply offended his guardian,
+and although the whole world was against him. Indeed, the strong
+affection that Lord Cadurcis instantly entertained for George is
+not the least remarkable instance of the singular, though silent,
+influence that Captain Cadurcis everywhere acquired. Lord Cadurcis
+had fixed upon him for his friend from the first moment of their
+acquaintance; and though apparently there could not be two characters
+more dissimilar, there were at bottom some striking points of sympathy
+and some strong bonds of union, in the generosity and courage that
+distinguished both, and in the mutual blood that filled their veins.
+
+There seemed to be a tacit understanding between the several members
+of our party that the name of Lord Cadurcis was not to be mentioned.
+Lady Annabel made no inquiry after him; Venetia was unwilling to
+hazard a question which would annoy her mother, and of which the
+answer could not bring her much satisfaction; and Captain Cadurcis did
+not think fit himself to originate any conversation on the subject.
+Nevertheless, Venetia could not help sometimes fancying, when her eyes
+met his, that their mutual thoughts were the same, and both dwelling
+on one who was absent, and of whom her companion would willingly have
+conversed. To confess the truth, indeed, George Cadurcis was on his
+way to join his cousin, who had crossed over from Spain to Barbary,
+and journeyed along the African coast from Tangiers to Tripoli. Their
+point of reunion was to be Sicily or Malta. Hearing of the residence
+of the Herberts on the lake, he thought it would be but kind to
+Plantagenet to visit them, and perhaps to bear to him some message
+from Venetia. There was nothing, indeed, on which Captain Cadurcis
+was more intent than to effect the union between his cousin and Miss
+Herbert. He was deeply impressed with the sincerity of Plantagenet's
+passion, and he himself entertained for the lady the greatest
+affection and admiration. He thought she was the only person whom he
+had ever known, who was really worthy to be his cousin's bride. And,
+independent of her personal charms and undoubted talents, she had
+displayed during the outcry against Lord Cadurcis so much good sense,
+such a fine spirit, and such modest yet sincere affection for the
+victim, that George Cadurcis had almost lost his own heart to her,
+when he was endeavouring to induce her not utterly to reject that of
+another; and it became one of the dreams of his life, that in a little
+time, when all, as he fondly anticipated, had ended as it should,
+and as he wished it, he should be able to find an occasional home at
+Cadurcis Abbey, and enjoy the charming society of one whom he had
+already taught himself to consider as a sister.
+
+'And to-night you must indeed go?' said Venetia, as they were walking
+together on the terrace. It was the only time that they had been alone
+together during his visit.
+
+'I must start from Arona at daybreak,' replied George; 'and I must
+travel quickly, for in less than a month I must be in Sicily.'
+
+'Sicily! Why are you going to Sicily?'
+
+Captain Cadurcis smiled. 'I am going to join a friend of ours,' he
+answered.
+
+'Plantagenet?' she said.
+
+Captain Cadurcis nodded assent.
+
+'Poor Plantagenet!' said Venetia.
+
+'His name has been on my lips several times,' said George.
+
+'I am sure of that,' said Venetia. 'Is he well?'
+
+'He writes to me in fair spirits,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'He has been
+travelling in Spain, and now he is somewhere in Africa; we are to meet
+in Sicily or Malta. I think travel has greatly benefited him. He seems
+quite delighted with his glimpse of Oriental manners, and I should
+scarcely be surprised if he were now to stretch on to Constantinople.'
+
+'I wonder if he will ever return to England,' said Venetia,
+thoughtfully.
+
+'There is only one event that would induce him,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. And then after a pause he added, 'You will not ask me what
+it is?'
+
+'I wish he were in England, and were happy,' said Venetia.
+
+'It is in your power to effect both results,' said her companion.
+
+'It is useless to recur to that subject,' said Venetia. 'Plantagenet
+knows my feelings towards him, but fate has forbidden our destinies to
+be combined.'
+
+'Then he will never return to England, and never be happy. Ah,
+Venetia! what shall I tell him when we meet? What message am I to bear
+him from you?'
+
+'Those regards which he ever possessed, and has never forfeited,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'Poor Cadurcis!' said his cousin, shaking his head, 'if any man ever
+had reason to be miserable, it is he.'
+
+'We are none of us very happy, I think,' said Venetia, mournfully. 'I
+am sure when I look back to the last few years of my life it seems
+to me that there is some curse hanging over our families. I cannot
+penetrate it; it baffles me.'
+
+'I am sure,' said Captain Cadurcis with great animation, 'nay, I would
+pledge my existence cheerfully on the venture, that if Lady Annabel
+would only relent towards Cadurcis, we should all be the happiest
+people in the world.'
+
+'Heigho!' said Venetia. 'There are other cares in our house besides
+our unfortunate acquaintance with your cousin. We were the last people
+in the world with whom he should ever have become connected.'
+
+'And yet it was an intimacy that commenced auspiciously,' said her
+friend. 'I am sure I have sat with Cadurcis, and listened to him by
+the hour, while he has told me of all the happy days at Cherbury when
+you were both children; the only happy days, according to him, that he
+ever knew.'
+
+'Yes! they were happy days,' said Venetia.
+
+'And what connection could have offered a more rational basis for
+felicity than your union?' he continued. 'Whatever the world may
+think, I, who know Cadurcis to the very bottom of his heart, feel
+assured that you never would have repented for an instant becoming the
+sharer of his life; your families were of equal rank, your estates
+joined, he felt for your mother the affection of a son. There seemed
+every element that could have contributed to earthly bliss. As for his
+late career, you who know all have already, have always indeed,
+viewed it with charity. Placed in his position, who could have acted
+otherwise? I know very well that his genius, which might recommend
+him to another woman, is viewed by your mother with more than
+apprehension. It is true that a man of his exquisite sensibility
+requires sympathies as refined to command his nature. It is no common
+mind that could maintain its hold over Cadurcis, and his spirit could
+not yield but to rare and transcendent qualities. He found them,
+Venetia, he found them in her whom he had known longest and most
+intimately, and loved from his boyhood. Talk of constancy, indeed! who
+has been so constant as my cousin? No, Venetia! you may think fit to
+bow to the feelings of your mother, and it would be impertinence in me
+to doubt for an instant the propriety of your conduct: I do not doubt
+it; I admire it; I admire you, and everything you have done; none can
+view your behaviour throughout all these painful transactions with
+more admiration, I might even say with more reverence, than myself;
+but, Venetia, you never can persuade me, you have never attempted to
+persuade me, that you yourself are incredulous of the strength and
+permanency of my cousin's love.'
+
+'Ah, George! you are our friend!' said Venetia, a tear stealing down
+her cheek. 'But, indeed, we must not talk of these things. As for
+myself, I think not of happiness. I am certain I am not born to be
+happy. I wish only to live calmly; contentedly, I would say; but that,
+perhaps, is too much. My feelings have been so harrowed, my mind so
+harassed, during these last few years, and so many causes of pain and
+misery seem ever hovering round my existence, that I do assure you,
+my dear friend, I have grown old before my time. Ah! you may smile,
+George, but my heart is heavy; it is indeed.'
+
+'I wish I could lighten it,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'I fear I am
+somewhat selfish in wishing you to marry my cousin, for then you know
+I should have a permanent and authentic claim to your regard. But no
+one, at least I think so, can feel more deeply interested in your
+welfare than I do. I never knew any one like you, and I always tell
+Cadurcis so, and that I think makes him worse, but I cannot help it.'
+
+Venetia could not refrain from smiling at the simplicity of this
+confession.
+
+'Well,' continued her companion,' everything, after all, is for the
+best. You and Plantagenet are both very young; I live in hopes that I
+shall yet see you Lady Cadurcis.'
+
+Venetia shook her head, but was not sorry that their somewhat
+melancholy conversation should end in a livelier vein. So they entered
+the villa.
+
+The hour of parting was painful, and the natural gaiety of Captain
+Cadurcis deserted him. He had become greatly attached to the Herberts.
+Without any female relatives of his own, their former intimacy and
+probable connection with his cousin had taught him to look upon them
+in some degree in the light of kindred. He had originally indeed
+become acquainted with them in all the blaze of London society, not
+very calculated to bring out the softer tints and more subdued tones
+of our character, but even then the dignified grace of Lady Annabel
+and the radiant beauty of Venetia, had captivated him, and he had
+cultivated their society with assiduity and extreme pleasure. The
+grand crisis of his cousin's fortunes had enabled him to become
+intimate with the more secret and serious qualities of Venetia, and
+from that moment he had taken the deepest interest in everything
+connected with her. His happy and unexpected meeting in Italy had
+completed the spell; and now that he was about to leave them,
+uncertain even if they should ever meet again, his soft heart
+trembled, and he could scarcely refrain from tears as he pressed their
+hands, and bade them his sincere adieus.
+
+The moon had risen, ere he entered his boat, and flung a rippling line
+of glittering light on the bosom of the lake. The sky was without a
+cloud, save a few thin fleecy vapours that hovered over the azure brow
+of a distant mountain. The shores of the lake were suffused with the
+serene effulgence, and every object was so distinct, that the eye was
+pained by the lights of the villages, that every instant became more
+numerous and vivid. The bell of a small chapel on the opposite shore,
+and the distant chant of some fishermen still working at their nets,
+were the only sounds that broke the silence which they did not
+disturb. Reclined in his boat, George Cadurcis watched the vanishing
+villa of the Herberts, until the light in the principal chamber was
+the only sign that assured him of its site. That chamber held Venetia,
+the unhappy Venetia! He covered his face with his hand when even
+the light of her chamber vanished, and, full of thoughts tender and
+disconsolate, he at length arrived at Arona.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Pursuant to their plans, the Herberts left the Lago Maggiore towards
+the end of October, and proceeded by gentle journeys to the Apennines.
+Before they crossed this barrier, they were to rest awhile in one of
+the Lombard cities; and now they were on the point of reaching Arqua,
+which Venetia had expressed a strong desire to visit.
+
+At the latter part of the last century, the race of tourists, the
+offspring of a long peace, and the rapid fortunes made during the war,
+did not exist. Travelling was then confined to the aristocracy,
+and though the English, when opportunity offered, have ever been a
+restless people, the gentle bosom of the Euganean Hills was then
+rarely disturbed amid its green and sequestered valleys.
+
+There is not perhaps in all the Italian region, fertile as it is in
+interesting associations and picturesque beauty, a spot that tradition
+and nature have so completely combined to hallow, as the last
+residence of Petrarch. It seems, indeed, to have been formed for the
+retirement of a pensive and poetic spirit. It recedes from the world
+by a succession of delicate acclivities clothed with vineyards and
+orchards, until, winding within these hills, the mountain hamlet is
+at length discovered, enclosed by two ridges that slope towards each
+other, and seem to shut out all the passions of a troubled race. The
+houses are scattered at intervals on the steep sides of these summits,
+and on a little knoll is the mansion of the poet, built by himself,
+and commanding a rich and extensive view, that ends only with the
+shores of the Adriatic sea. His tomb, a sarcophagus of red marble,
+supported by pillars, doubtless familiar to the reader, is at hand;
+and, placed on an elevated site, gives a solemn impression to a scene,
+of which the character would otherwise be serenely cheerful.
+
+Our travellers were surprised to find that the house of the poet was
+inhabited by a very different tenant to the rustic occupier they had
+anticipated. They heard that a German gentleman had within the last
+year fixed upon it as the residence of himself and his wife. The
+peasants were profuse in their panegyrics of this visitor, whose
+arrival had proved quite an era in the history of their village.
+According to them, a kinder and more charitable gentleman never
+breathed; his whole life was spent in studying and contributing to the
+happiness of those around him. The sick, the sorrowful, and the needy
+were ever sure of finding a friend in him, and merit a generous
+patron. From him came portions to the portionless; no village maiden
+need despair of being united to her betrothed, while he could assist
+her; and at his own cost he had sent to the academy of Bologna, a
+youth whom his father would have made a cowherd, but whom nature
+predisposed to be a painter. The inhabitants believed this benevolent
+and generous person was a physician, for he attended the sick,
+prescribed for their complaints, and had once even performed an
+operation with great success. It seemed that, since Petrarch, no one
+had ever been so popular at Arqua as this kind German. Lady Annabel
+and Venetia were interested with the animated narratives of the
+ever-active beneficence of this good man, and Lady Annabel especially
+regretted that his absence deprived her of the gratification of
+becoming acquainted with a character so rare and so invaluable. In the
+meantime they availed themselves of the offer of his servants to view
+the house of Petrarch, for their master had left orders, that his
+absence should never deprive a pilgrim from paying his homage to the
+shrine of genius.
+
+The house, consisting of two floors, had recently been repaired by
+the present occupier. It was simply furnished. The ground-floor was
+allotted to the servants. The upper story contained five rooms, three
+of which were of good size, and two closets. In one of these were the
+traditionary chair and table of Petrarch, and here, according to their
+guides, the master of the house passed a great portion of his time in
+study, to which, by their account, he seemed devoted. The adjoining
+chamber was his library; its windows opened on a balcony looking on
+two lofty and conical hills, one topped with a convent, while the
+valley opened on the side and spread into a calm and very pleasant
+view. Of the other apartments, one served as a saloon, but there was
+nothing in it remarkable, except an admirably painted portrait of a
+beautiful woman, which the servant informed them was their mistress.
+
+'But that surely is not a German physiognomy?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'The mistress is an Italian,' replied the servant.
+
+'She is very handsome, of whatever nation she may be,' replied Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Oh! how I should have liked to have met these happy people, mamma,'
+said Venetia, 'for happy they surely must be.'
+
+'They seem to be good people,' said Lady Annabel. 'It really lightened
+my heart to hear of all this gentleman's kind deeds.'
+
+'Ah! if the signora only knew the master,' said their guide, 'she
+would indeed know a good man.'
+
+They descended to the garden, which certainly was not like the garden
+of their villa; it had been but lately a wilderness of laurels, but
+there were evidences that the eye and hand of taste were commencing
+its restoration with effect.
+
+'The master did this,' said their guide. 'He will allow no one to work
+in the garden but himself. It is a week since he went to Bologna, to
+see our Paulo. He gained a prize at the academy, and his father begged
+the master to be present when it was conferred on him; he said it
+would do his son so much good! So the master went, though it is the
+only time he has quitted Qua since he came to reside here.'
+
+'And how long has he resided here?' inquired Venetia.
+
+''Tis the second autumn,' said the guide, 'and he came in the spring.
+If the signora would only wait, we expect the master home to-night or
+to-morrow, and he would be glad to see her.'
+
+'We cannot wait, my friend,' said Lady Annabel, rewarding the guide;
+'but you will thank your master in our names, for the kindness we have
+experienced. You are all happy in such a friend.'
+
+'I must write my name in Petrarch's house,' said Venetia. 'Adieu,
+happy Arqua! Adieu, happy dwellers in this happy valley!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Just as Lady Annabel and her daughter arrived at Rovigo, one of those
+sudden and violent storms that occasionally occur at the termination
+of an Italian autumn raged with irresistible fury. The wind roared
+with a noise that overpowered the thunder; then came a rattling shower
+of hail, with stones as big as pigeons' eggs, succeeded by rain, not
+in showers, but literally in cataracts. The only thing to which
+a tempest of rain in Italy can be compared is the bursting of a
+waterspout. Venetia could scarcely believe that this could be the same
+day of which the golden morning had found her among the sunny hills of
+Arqua. This unexpected vicissitude induced Lady Annabel to alter her
+plans, and she resolved to rest at Rovigo, where she was glad to find
+that they could be sheltered in a commodious inn.
+
+The building had originally been a palace, and in its halls and
+galleries, and the vast octagonal vestibule on which the principal
+apartments opened, it retained many noble indications of the purposes
+to which it was formerly destined.
+
+At present, a lazy innkeeper who did nothing; his bustling wife,
+who seemed equally at home in the saloon, the kitchen, and even the
+stable; and a solitary waiter, were the only inmates, except the
+Herberts, and a travelling party, who had arrived shortly after them,
+and who, like them, had been driven by stress of weather to seek
+refuge at a place where otherwise they had not intended to remain.
+
+A blazing fire of pine wood soon gave cheerfulness to the vast and
+somewhat desolate apartment into which our friends had been ushered;
+their sleeping-room was adjoining, but separated. In spite of the
+lamentations of Pauncefort, who had been drenched to the skin, and who
+required much more waiting upon than her mistress, Lady Annabel and
+Venetia at length produced some degree of comfort. They drew the table
+near the fire; they ensconced themselves behind an old screen; and,
+producing their books and work notwithstanding the tempest, they
+contrived to domesticate themselves at Rovigo.
+
+'I cannot help thinking of Arqua and its happy tenants, mamma,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'And yet, perhaps, they may have their secret sorrows,' said
+Lady Annabel. 'I know not why, I always associate seclusion with
+unhappiness.'
+
+Venetia remembered Cherbury. Their life at Cherbury was like the life
+of the German at Arqua. A chance visitor to Cherbury in their absence,
+viewing the beautiful residence and the fair domain, and listening to
+the tales which they well might hear of all her mother's grace and
+goodness, might perhaps too envy its happy occupiers. But were they
+happy? Had they no secret sorrows? Was their seclusion associated with
+unhappiness? These were reflections that made Venetia grave; but she
+opened her journal, and, describing the adventures and feelings of the
+morning, she dissipated some mournful reminiscences.
+
+The storm still raged, Venetia had quitted the saloon in which her
+mother and herself had been sitting, and had repaired to the adjoining
+chamber to fetch a book. The door of this room opened, as all the
+other entrances of the different apartments, on to the octagonal
+vestibule. Just as she was quitting the room, and about to return to
+her mother, the door of the opposite chamber opened, and there came
+forward a gentleman in a Venetian dress of black velvet. His stature
+was much above the middle height, though his figure, which was
+remarkably slender, was bowed; not by years certainly, for his
+countenance, though singularly emaciated, still retained traces
+of youth. His hair, which he wore very long, descended over his
+shoulders, and must originally have been of a light golden colour, but
+now was severely touched with grey. His countenance was very pallid,
+so colourless indeed that its aspect was almost unearthly; but his
+large blue eyes, that were deeply set in his majestic brow, still
+glittered with fire, and their expression alone gave life to a visage,
+which, though singularly beautiful in its outline, from its faded and
+attenuated character seemed rather the countenance of a corpse than of
+a breathing being.
+
+The glance of the stranger caught that of Venetia, and seemed to
+fascinate her. She suddenly became motionless; wildly she stared at
+the stranger, who, in his turn, seemed arrested in his progress, and
+stood still as a statue, with his eyes fixed with absorbing interest
+on the beautiful apparition before him. An expression of perplexity
+and pain flitted over the amazed features of Venetia; and then it
+seemed that, by some almost supernatural effort, confusion amounting
+to stupefaction suddenly brightened and expanded into keen and
+overwhelming intelligence. Exclaiming in a frenzied tone, 'My father!'
+Venetia sprang forward, and fell senseless on the stranger's breast.
+
+Such, after so much mystery, so many aspirations, so much anxiety, and
+so much suffering, such was the first meeting of Venetia Herbert with
+her father!
+
+Marmion Herbert, himself trembling and speechless, bore the apparently
+lifeless Venetia into his apartment. Not permitting her for a moment
+to quit his embrace, he seated himself, and gazed silently on the
+inanimate and unknown form he held so strangely within his arms. Those
+lips, now closed as if in death, had uttered however one word
+which thrilled to his heart, and still echoed, like a supernatural
+annunciation, within his ear. He examined with an eye of agitated
+scrutiny the fair features no longer sensible of his presence. He
+gazed upon that transparent brow, as if he would read some secret in
+its pellucid veins; and touched those long locks of golden hair with a
+trembling finger, that seemed to be wildly seeking for some vague and
+miraculous proof of inexpressible identity. The fair creature had
+called him 'Father.' His dreaming reveries had never pictured a being
+half so beautiful! She called him 'Father!' Tha word had touched
+his brain, as lightning cuts a tree. He looked around him with a
+distracted air, then gazed on the tranced form he held with a glance
+which would have penetrated her soul, and murmured unconsciously the
+wild word she had uttered. She called him 'Father!' He dared not think
+who she might be. His thoughts were wandering in a distant land;
+visions of another life, another country, rose before him, troubled
+and obscure. Baffled aspirations, and hopes blighted in the bud, and
+the cherished secrets of his lorn existence, clustered like clouds
+upon his perplexed, yet creative, brain. She called him, 'Father!' It
+was a word to make him mad. 'Father!' This beautiful being had
+called him 'Father,' and seemed to have expired, as it were, in the
+irresistible expression. His heart yearned to her; he had met her
+embrace with an inexplicable sympathy; her devotion had seemed, as it
+were, her duty and his right. Yet who was she? He was a father. It
+was a fact, a fact alike full of solace and mortification, the
+consciousness of which never deserted him. But he was the father of an
+unknown child; to him the child of his poetic dreams, rather than his
+reality. And now there came this radiant creature, and called him
+'Father!' Was he awake, and in the harsh busy world; or was it the
+apparition of au over-excited imagination, brooding too constantly on
+one fond idea, on which he now gazed so fixedly? Was this some spirit?
+Would that she would speak again! Would that those sealed lips would
+part and utter but one word, would but again call him 'Father,' and he
+asked no more!
+
+'Father!' to be called 'Father' by one whom he could not name, by one
+over whom he mused in solitude, by one to whom he had poured forth all
+the passion of his desolate soul; to be called 'Father' by this being
+was the aspiring secret of his life. He had painted her to himself in
+his loneliness, he had conjured up dreams of ineffable loveliness, and
+inexpressible love; he had led with her an imaginary life of thrilling
+tenderness; he had indulged in a delicious fancy of mutual interchange
+of the most exquisite offices of our nature; and then, when he had
+sometimes looked around him, and found no daughter there, no beaming
+countenance of purity to greet him with its constant smile, and
+receive the quick and ceaseless tribute of his vigilant affection, the
+tears had stolen down his lately-excited features, all the consoling
+beauty of his visions had vanished into air, he had felt the deep
+curse of his desolation, and had anathematised the cunning brain
+that made his misery a thousand-fold keener by the mockery of its
+transporting illusions.
+
+And now there came this transcendent creature, with a form more
+glowing than all his dreams; a voice more musical than a seraphic
+chorus, though it had uttered but one thrilling word: there came this
+transcendent creature, beaming with grace, beauty, and love, and had
+fallen upon his heart, and called him 'Father!'
+
+Herbert looked up to heaven as if waiting for some fresh miracle to
+terminate the harrowing suspense of his tortured mind; Herbert looked
+down upon his mysterious companion; the rose was gradually returning
+to her cheek, her lips seemed to tremble with reviving breath. There
+was only one word more strange to his ear than that which she had
+uttered, but an irresistible impulse sent forth the sound.
+
+'Venetia!' he exclaimed.
+
+The eyes of the maiden slowly opened; she stared around her with a
+vague glance of perplexity, not unmingled with pain; she looked up;
+she caught the rapt gaze of her father, bending over her with
+fondness yet with fear; his lips moved, for a moment they refused to
+articulate, yet at length they again uttered, 'Venetia!' And the only
+response she made was to cling to him with nervous energy, and hide
+her face in his bosom.
+
+Herbert pressed her to his heart. Yet even now he hesitated to credit
+the incredible union. Again he called her by her name, but added with
+rising confidence, 'My Venetia!'
+
+'Your child, your child,' she murmured. 'Your own Venetia.'
+
+He pressed his lips to hers; he breathed over her a thousand
+blessings; she felt his tears trickling on her neck.
+
+At length Venetia looked up and sighed; she was exhausted by the
+violence of her emotions: her father relaxed his grasp with infinite
+tenderness, watching her with delicate solicitude; she leaned her arm
+upon his shoulder with downcast eyes.
+
+Herbert gently took her disengaged hand, and pressed it to his lips.
+'I am as in a dream,' murmured Venetia.
+
+'The daughter of my heart has found her sire,' said Herbert in an
+impassioned voice. 'The father who has long lived upon her fancied
+image; the father, I fear, she has been bred up to hate.'
+
+'Oh! no, no!' said Venetia, speaking rapidly and with a slight shiver;
+'not hate! it was a secret, his being was a secret, his name was never
+mentioned; it was unknown.'
+
+'A secret! My existence a secret from my child, my beautiful fond
+child!' exclaimed Herbert in a tone even more desolate than bitter.
+'Why did they not let you at least hate me!'
+
+'My father!' said Venetia, in a firmer voice, and with returning
+animation, yet gazing around her with a still distracted air, 'Am I
+with my father? The clouds clear from my brain. I remember that we
+met. Where was it? Was it at Arqua? In the garden? I am with my
+father!' she continued in a rapid tone and with a wild smile. 'Oh! let
+me look on him;' and she turned round, and gazed upon Herbert with
+a serious scrutiny. 'Are you my father?' she continued, in a still,
+small voice. 'Your hair has grown grey since last I saw you; it was
+golden then, like mine. I know you are my father,' she added, after a
+pause, and in a tone almost of gaiety. 'You cannot deceive me. I know
+your name. They did not tell it me; I found it out myself, but it made
+me very ill, very; and I do not think I have ever been quite well
+since. You are Marmion Herbert. My mother had a dog called Marmion,
+when I was a little girl, but I did not know I had a father then.'
+
+'Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, with streaming eyes, as he listened with
+anguish to these incoherent sentences. 'My Venetia loves me!'
+
+'Oh! she always loved you,' replied Venetia; always, always. Before
+she knew her father she loved him. I dare say you think I do not love
+you, because I am not used to speak to a father. Everything must be
+learnt, you know,' she said, with a faint, sad smile; 'and then it
+was so sudden! I do not think my mother knows it yet. And after all,
+though I found you out in a moment, still, I know not why, I thought
+it was a picture. But I read your verses, and I knew them by heart at
+once; but now my memory has worn out, for I am ill, and everything has
+gone cross with me. And all because my father wrote me verses. 'Tis
+very strange, is not it?'
+
+'Sweet lamb of my affections,' exclaimed Herbert to himself, 'I fear
+me much this sudden meeting with one from whose bosom you ought never
+to have been estranged, has been for the moment too great a trial for
+this delicate brain.'
+
+'I will not tell my mother,' said Venetia; 'she will be angry.'
+
+'Your mother, darling; where is your mother?' said Herbert, looking,
+if possible, paler than he was wont.
+
+She was at Arqua with me, and on the lake for months, but where we are
+now, I cannot say. If I could only remember where we are now,' she
+added with earnestness, and with a struggle to collect herself, 'I
+should know everything.'
+
+'This is Rovigo, my child, the inn of Rovigo. You are travelling with
+your mother. Is it not so?'
+
+'Yes! and we came this morning, and it rained. Now I know everything,'
+said Venetia, with an animated and even cheerful air.
+
+'And we met in the vestibule, my sweet,' continued Herbert, in a
+soothing voice; 'we came out of opposite chambers, and you knew me; my
+Venetia knew me. Try to tell me, my darling,' he added, in a tone of
+coaxing fondness, 'try to remember how Venetia knew her father.'
+
+'He was so like his picture at Cherbury,' replied Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' exclaimed Herbert, with a deep-drawn sigh.
+
+'Only your hair has grown grey, dear father; but it is long, quite as
+long as in your picture.'
+
+'Her dog called Marmion!' murmured Herbert to himself, 'and my
+portrait, too! You saw your father's portrait, then, every day, love?'
+
+'Oh, no! said Venetia, shaking her head, 'only once, only once. And I
+never told mamma. It was where no one could go, but I went there one
+day. It was in a room that no one ever entered except mamma, but
+I entered it. I stole the key, and had a fever, and in my fever I
+confessed all. But I never knew it. Mamma never told me I confessed
+it, until many, many years afterwards. It was the first, the only time
+she ever mentioned to me your name, my father.'
+
+'And she told you to shun me, to hate me? She told you I was a
+villain, a profligate, a demon? eh? eh? Was it not so, Venetia?'
+
+'She told me that you had broken her heart,' said Venetia; 'and she
+prayed to God that her child might not be so miserable.'
+
+'Oh, my Venetia!' exclaimed Herbert, pressing her to his breast,
+and in a voice stifled with emotion, 'I feel now we might have been
+happy!'
+
+In the meantime the prolonged absence of her daughter surprised
+Lady Annabel. At length she rose, and walked into their adjoining
+apartment, but to her surprise Venetia was not there. Returning to her
+saloon, she found Pauncefort and the waiter arranging the table for
+dinner.
+
+'Where is Miss Herbert, Pauncefort?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I am sure, my lady, I cannot say. I have no doubt she is in the other
+room.'
+
+'She is not there, for I have just quitted it,' replied Lady Annabel.
+'How very strange! You have not seen the signora?' inquired Lady
+Annabel of the waiter.
+
+'The signora is in the room with the gentleman.'
+
+'The gentleman!' exclaimed Lady Annabel. 'Tell me, good man, what do
+you mean? I am inquiring for my daughter.'
+
+'I know well the signora is talking of her daughter,' replied the
+waiter.
+
+'But do you know my daughter by sight? Surely you you must mean some
+one else.'
+
+'Do I know the signora's daughter?' said the waiter. 'The beautiful
+young lady, with hair like Santa Marguerita, in the church of the Holy
+Trinity! I tell the signora, I saw her carried into numero 4, in the
+arms of the Signor Forestiere, who arrived this morning.'
+
+'Venetia is ill,' said Lady Annabel. 'Show me to the room, my friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accordingly, with a hurried step, following her guide,
+quitted the chamber. Pauncefort remained fixed to the earth, the very
+picture of perplexity.
+
+'Well, to be sure!' she exclaimed, 'was anything ever so strange! In
+the arms of Signor Forestiere! Forestiere. An English name. There is
+no person of the name of Forest that I know. And in his arms, too! I
+should not wonder if it was my lord after all. Well, I should be glad
+if he were to come to light again, for, after all, my lady may say
+what she likes, but if Miss Venetia don't marry Lord Cadurcis, I must
+say marriages were never made in heaven!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+The waiter threw open the door of Mr. Herbert's chamber, and Lady
+Annabel swept in with a majesty she generally assumed when about to
+meet strangers. The first thing she beheld was her daughter in
+the arms of a man whose head was bent, and who was embracing her.
+Notwithstanding this astounding spectacle, Lady Annabel neither
+started nor screamed; she only said in an audible tone, and one rather
+expressing astonishment than agitation, 'Venetia!'
+
+Immediately the stranger looked up, and Lady Annabel beheld her
+husband!
+
+She was rooted to the earth. She turned deadly pale; for a moment her
+countenance expressed only terror, but the terror quickly changed into
+aversion. Suddenly she rushed forward, and exclaimed in a tone in
+which decision conquered dismay, 'Restore me my child!'
+
+The moment Herbert had recognised his wife he had dexterously
+disengaged himself from the grasp of Venetia, whom he left on the
+chair, and meeting Lady Annabel with extended arms, that seemed to
+deprecate her wrath, he said, 'I seek not to deprive you of her; she
+is yours, and she is worthy of you; but respect, for a few moments,
+the feelings of a father who has met his only child in a manner so
+unforeseen.'
+
+The presence of her mother instantaneously restored Venetia to
+herself. Her mind was in a moment cleared and settled. Her past and
+peculiar life, and all its incidents, recurred to her with their
+accustomed order, vividness, and truth. She thoroughly comprehended
+her present situation. Actuated by long-cherished feelings and the
+necessity of the occasion, she rose and threw herself at her mother's
+feet and exclaimed, 'O mother! he is my father, love him!'
+
+Lady Annabel stood with an averted countenance, Venetia clinging to
+her hand, which she had caught when she rushed forward, and which now
+fell passive by Lady Annabel's side, giving no sign, by any pressure
+or motion, of the slightest sympathy with her daughter, or feeling for
+the strange and agonising situation in which they were both placed.
+
+'Annabel,' said Herbert, in a voice that trembled, though the speaker
+struggled to appear calm, 'be charitable! I have never intruded upon
+your privacy; I will not now outrage it. Accident, or some diviner
+motive, has brought us together this day. If you will not treat me
+with kindness, look not upon me with aversion before our child.'
+
+Still she was silent and motionless, her countenance hidden from her
+husband and her daughter, but her erect and haughty form betokening
+her inexorable mind. 'Annabel,' said Herbert, who had now withdrawn
+to some distance, and leant against a pillar, 'will not then nearly
+twenty years of desolation purchase one moment of intercourse? I have
+injured you. Be it so. This is not the moment I will defend myself.
+But have I not suffered? Is not this meeting a punishment deeper
+even than your vengeance could devise? Is it nothing to behold this
+beautiful child, and feel that she is only yours? Annabel, look on me,
+look on me only one moment! My frame is bowed, my hair is grey, my
+heart is withered; the principle of existence waxes faint and slack in
+this attenuated frame. I am no longer that Herbert on whom you once
+smiled, but a man stricken with many sorrows. The odious conviction of
+my life cannot long haunt you; yet a little while, and my memory will
+alone remain. Think of this, Annabel; I beseech you, think of it. Oh!
+believe me, when the speedy hour arrives that will consign me to the
+grave, where I shall at least find peace, it will not be utterly
+without satisfaction that you will remember that we met if even by
+accident, and parted at least not with harshness!'
+
+'Mother, dearest mother!' murmured Venetia, 'speak to him, look on
+him!'
+
+'Venetia,' said her mother, without turning her head, but in a calm,
+firm tone, 'your father has seen you, has conversed with you. Between
+your father and myself there can be nothing to communicate, either of
+fact or feeling. Now let us depart.'
+
+'No, no, not depart!' said Venetia franticly. 'You did not say depart,
+dear mother! I cannot go,' she added in a low and half-hysterical
+voice.
+
+'Desert me, then,' said the mother. 'A fitting consequence of your
+private communications with your father,' she added in a tone of
+bitter scorn; and Lady Annabel moved to depart, but Venetia, still
+kneeling, clung to her convulsively.
+
+'Mother, mother, you shall not go; you shall not leave me; we will
+never part, mother,' continued Venetia, in a tone almost of violence,
+as she perceived her mother give no indication of yielding to her
+wish. 'Are my feelings then nothing?' she then exclaimed. 'Is this
+your sense of my fidelity? Am I for ever to be a victim?' She loosened
+her hold of her mother's hand, her mother moved on, Venetia fell upon
+her forehead and uttered a faint scream. The heart of Lady Annabel
+relented when she fancied her daughter suffered physical pain, however
+slight; she hesitated, she turned, she hastened to her child; her
+husband had simultaneously advanced; in the rapid movement and
+confusion her hand touched that of Herbert.
+
+'I yield her to you, Annabel,' said Herbert, placing Venetia in her
+mother's arms. 'You mistake me, as you have often mistaken me, if you
+think I seek to practise on the feelings of this angelic child. She is
+yours; may she compensate you for the misery I have caused you, but
+never sought to occasion!'
+
+'I am not hurt, dear mother,' said Venetia, as her mother tenderly
+examined her forehead. 'Dear, dear mother, why did you reproach me?'
+
+'Forget it,' said Lady Annabel, in a softened tone; 'for indeed you
+are irreproachable.'
+
+'O Annabel!' said Herbert, 'may not this child be some atonement, this
+child, of whom I solemnly declare I would not deprive you, though I
+would willingly forfeit my life for a year of her affection; and your,
+your sufferance,' he added.
+
+'Mother! speak to him,' said Venetia, with her head on her mother's
+bosom, who still, however, remained rigidly standing. But Lady Annabel
+was silent.
+
+'Your mother was ever stern and cold, Venetia,' said Herbert, the
+bitterness of his heart at length expressing itself.
+
+'Never,' said Venetia, with great energy; 'never; you know not my
+mother. Was she stern and cold when she visited each night in secret
+your portrait?' said Venetia, looking round upon her astonished
+father, with her bright grey eye. 'Was she stern and cold when she
+wept over your poems, those poems whose characters your own hand had
+traced? Was she stern and cold when she hung a withered wreath on your
+bridal bed, the bed to which I owe my miserable being? Oh, no, my
+father! sad was the hour of separation for my mother and yourself.
+It may have dimmed the lustre of her eye, and shaded your locks with
+premature grey; but whatever may have been its inscrutable cause,
+there was one victim of that dark hour, less thought of than
+yourselves, and yet a greater sufferer than both, the being in whose
+heart you implanted affections, whose unfulfilled tenderness has made
+that wretched thing they call your daughter.'
+
+'Annabel!' exclaimed Herbert, rapidly advancing, with an imploring
+gesture, and speaking in a tone of infinite anguish, 'Annabel,
+Annabel, even now we can be happy!'
+
+The countenance of his wife was troubled, but its stern expression had
+disappeared. The long-concealed, yet at length irrepressible, emotion
+of Venetia had touched her heart. In the conflict of affection between
+the claims of her two parents, Lady Annabel had observed with a
+sentiment of sweet emotion, in spite of all the fearfulness of the
+meeting, that Venetia had not faltered in her devotion to her mother.
+The mental torture of her child touched her to the quick. In the
+excitement of her anguish, Venetia had expressed a profound sentiment,
+the irresistible truth of which Lady Annabel could no longer
+withstand. She had too long and too fondly schooled herself to look
+upon the outraged wife as the only victim. There was then, at length
+it appeared to this stern-minded woman, another. She had laboured in
+the flattering delusion that the devotion of a mother's love might
+compensate to Venetia for the loss of that other parent, which in some
+degree Lady Annabel had occasioned her; for the worthless husband, had
+she chosen to tolerate the degrading connection, might nevertheless
+have proved a tender father. But Nature, it seemed, had shrunk from
+the vain effort of the isolated mother. The seeds of affection for
+the father of her being were mystically implanted in the bosom of his
+child. Lady Annabel recalled the harrowing hours that this attempt by
+her to curb and control the natural course and rising sympathies
+of filial love had cost her child, on whom she had so vigilantly
+practised it. She recalled her strange aspirations, her inspired
+curiosity, her brooding reveries, her fitful melancholy, her terrible
+illness, her resignation, her fidelity, her sacrifices: there came
+across the mind of Lady Annabel a mortifying conviction that the
+devotion to her child, on which she had so rated herself, might
+after all only prove a subtle form of profound selfishness; and that
+Venetia, instead of being the idol of her love, might eventually be
+the martyr of her pride. And, thinking of these things, she wept.
+
+This evidence of emotion, which in such a spirit Herbert knew how to
+estimate, emboldened him to advance; he fell on one knee before her
+and her daughter; gently he stole her hand, and pressed it to his
+lips. It was not withdrawn, and Venetia laid her hand upon theirs,
+and would have bound them together had her mother been relentless.
+It seemed to Venetia that she was at length happy, but she would
+not speak, she would not disturb the still and silent bliss of the
+impending reconciliation. Was it then indeed at hand? In truth, the
+deportment of Herbert throughout the whole interview, so delicate, so
+subdued, so studiously avoiding the slightest rivaly with his wife
+in the affections of their child, and so carefully abstaining from
+attempting in the slightest degree to control the feelings of Venetia,
+had not been lost upon Lady Annabel. And when she thought of him, so
+changed from what he had been, grey, bent, and careworn, with all the
+lustre that had once so fascinated her, faded, and talking of that
+impending fate which his wan though spiritual countenance too clearly
+intimated, her heart melted.
+
+Suddenly the door burst open, and there stalked into the room a woman
+of eminent but most graceful stature, and of a most sovereign and
+voluptuous beauty. She was habited in the Venetian dress; her dark
+eyes glittered with fire, her cheek was inflamed with no amiable
+emotion, and her long black hair was disordered by the violence of her
+gesture.
+
+'And who are these?' she exclaimed in a shrill voice.
+
+All started; Herbert sprang up from his position with a glance of
+withering rage. Venetia was perplexed, Lady Annabel looked round, and
+recognised the identical face, however distorted by passion, that she
+had admired in the portrait at Arqua.
+
+'And who are these?' exclaimed the intruder, advancing. 'Perfidious
+Marmion! to whom do you dare to kneel?'
+
+Lady Annabel drew herself up to a height that seemed to look down even
+upon this tall stranger. The expression of majestic scorn that she
+cast upon the intruder made her, in spite of all her violence and
+excitement, tremble and be silent: she felt cowed she knew not why.
+
+'Come, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel with all her usual composure, 'let
+me save my daughter at least from this profanation,'
+
+'Annabel!' said Herbert, rushing after them, 'be charitable, be just!'
+He followed them to the threshold of the door; Venetia was silent, for
+she was alarmed.
+
+'Adieu, Marmion!' said Lady Annabel, looking over her shoulder with a
+bitter smile, but placing her daughter before her, as if to guard her.
+'Adieu, Marmion! adieu for ever!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The moon shone brightly on the house of Petrarch, and the hamlet
+slept in peace. Not a sound was heard, save the shrill voice of the
+grasshoppers, so incessant that its monotony blended, as it were, with
+the stillness. Over the green hills and the far expanse of the sheeny
+plain, the beautiful light of heaven fell with all the magical repose
+of the serene hour, an hour that brought to one troubled breast, and
+one distracted spirit, in that still and simple village, no quietude.
+
+Herbert came forth into the balcony of his residence, and leaning over
+the balustrade, revolved in his agitated mind the strange and stirring
+incidents of the day. His wife and his child had quitted the inn of
+Rovigo instantly after that mortifying rencounter that had dashed so
+cruelly to the ground all his sweet and quickly-rising hopes. As for
+his companion, she had by his peremptory desire returned to Arqua
+alone; he was not in a mood to endure her society; but he had
+conducted himself to her mildly, though with firmness; he had promised
+to follow her, and, in pursuance of his pledge, he rode home alone.
+
+He was greeted on his return by his servant, full of the the visit
+of the morning. With an irresistible curiosity, Herbert had made him
+describe every incident that had occurred, and repeat a hundred times
+every word that the visitors had uttered. He listened with some
+consolation, however mournful, to his wife's praises of the unknown
+stranger's life; he gazed with witching interest upon the autograph of
+his daughter on the wall of his library. He had not confessed to his
+mistress the relation which the two strangers bore to him; yet he was
+influenced in concealing the real circumstances, only by an indefinite
+sentiment, that made him reluctant to acknowledge to her ties so
+pure. The feelings of the parent overpowered the principles of the
+philosopher. This lady indeed, although at the moment she had indulged
+in so violent an ebullition of temper, possessed little influence over
+the mind of her companion. Herbert, however fond of solitude,
+required in his restricted world the graceful results of feminine
+superintendence. Time had stilled his passions, and cooled the fervour
+of his soul. The age of his illusions had long passed. This was a
+connection that had commenced in no extravagant or romantic mood, and
+perhaps for that reason had endured. He had become acquainted with her
+on his first unknown arrival in Italy, from America, now nearly two
+years back. It had been maintained on his side by a temper naturally
+sweet, and which, exhausted by years of violent emotion, now required
+only repose; seeking, in a female friend, a form that should not
+outrage an eye ever musing on the beautiful, and a disposition that
+should contribute to his comfort, and never ruffle his feelings.
+Separated from his wife by her own act, whatever might have been its
+impulse, and for so long an interval, it was a connection which the
+world in general might have looked upon with charity, which in her
+calmer hours one would imagine even Lady Annabel might have glanced
+over without much bitterness. Certainly it was one which, under all
+the circumstances of the case, could scarcely be esteemed by her as an
+outrage or an insult; but even Herbert felt, with all his philosophy
+and proud freedom from prejudice, that the rencounter of the morning
+was one which no woman could at the moment tolerate, few eventually
+excuse, and which of all incidents was that which would most tend to
+confirm his wife in her stoical obduracy. Of his offences towards
+her, whatever were their number or their quality, this surely was the
+least, and yet its results upon his life and fortunes would in all
+probability only be equalled by the mysterious cause of their original
+separation. But how much more bitter than that original separation
+was their present parting! Mortifying and annoying as had been the
+original occurrence, it was one that many causes and considerations
+combined to enable Herbert to support. He was then in the very prime
+of youth, inexperienced, sanguine, restless, and adventurous, with the
+whole world and its unknown results before him, and freedom for which
+he ever sighed to compensate for the loss of that domestic joy that
+he was then unable to appreciate. But now twenty years, which, in the
+career of such a spirit, were equal to a century of the existence of
+coarser clay, had elapsed; he was bowed with thought and suffering, if
+not by time; his conscience was light, but it was sad; his illusions
+had all vanished; he knew the world, and all that the world could
+bring, and he disregarded them; and the result of all his profound
+study, lofty aspirations, and great conduct was, that he sighed for
+rest. The original catastrophe had been merely a separation between
+a husband and a wife; the one that had just happened, involved other
+feelings; the father was also separated from his child, and a child of
+such surpassing qualities, that his brief acquaintance with her had
+alone sufficed to convert his dream of domestic repose into a vision
+of domestic bliss.
+
+Beautiful Venetia! so fair, and yet so dutiful; with a bosom teeming
+with such exquisite sensibilities, and a mind bright with such acute
+and elevated intelligence! An abstract conception of the sentiments
+that might subsist between a father and a daughter, heightened by all
+the devices of a glowing imagination, had haunted indeed occasionally
+the solitary musing of Marmion Herbert; but what was this creation of
+his poetic brain compared with the reality that now had touched his
+human heart? Vainly had he believed that repose was the only solace
+that remained for his exhausted spirit. He found that a new passion
+now swayed his soul; a passion, too, that he had never proved; of
+a nature most peculiar; pure, gentle, refined, yet ravishing and
+irresistible, compared with which all former transports, no matter how
+violent, tumultuous, and exciting, seemed evanescent and superficial:
+they were indeed the wind, the fire, and the tempest that had gone
+before, but this was the still small voice that followed, excelled,
+and survived their might and majesty, unearthly and eternal!
+
+His heart melted to his daughter, nor did he care to live without her
+love and presence. His philosophical theories all vanished. He felt
+how dependent we are in this world on our natural ties, and how
+limited, with all his arrogance, is the sphere of man. Dreaming of
+philanthropy, he had broken his wife's heart, and bruised, perhaps
+irreparably, the spirit of his child; he had rendered those miserable
+who depended on his love, and for whose affection his heart now
+yearned to that degree, that he could not contemplate existence
+without their active sympathy.
+
+Was it then too late! Was it then impossible to regain that Paradise
+he had forfeited so weakly, and of whose amaranthine bowers, but a few
+hours since, he had caught such an entrancing glimpse, of which the
+gate for a moment seemed about to re-open! In spite of all, then,
+Annabel still loved him, loved him passionately, visited his picture,
+mused over the glowing expression of their loves, wept over the bridal
+bed so soon deserted! She had a dog, too, when Venetia was a child,
+and called it Marmion.
+
+The recollection of this little trait, so trifling, yet so touching,
+made him weep even with wildness. The tears poured down his cheeks in
+torrents, he sobbed convulsively, his very heart seemed to burst. For
+some minutes he leant over the balustrade in a paroxysm of grief.
+
+He looked up. The convent hill rose before him, bright in the moon;
+beneath was his garden; around him the humble roofs that he made
+happy. It was not without an effort that he recalled the locality,
+that he remembered he was at Arqua. And who was sleeping within the
+house? Not his wife, Annabel was far away with their daughter. The
+vision of his whole life passed before him. Study and strife, and fame
+and love; the pride of the philosopher, the rapture of the poet,
+the blaze of eloquence, the clash of arms, the vows of passion, the
+execration and the applause of millions; both once alike welcome to
+his indomitable soul! And what had they borne to him? Misery. He
+called up the image of his wife, young, beautiful, and noble, with a
+mind capable of comprehending his loftiest and his finest moods, with
+a soul of matchless purity, and a temper whose winning tenderness had
+only been equalled by her elevated sense of self-respect; a woman that
+might have figured in the days of chivalry, soft enough to be his
+slave, but too proud to be his victim. He called up her image in
+the castle of his fathers, exercising in a domain worthy of such a
+mistress, all those sweet offices of life which here, in this hired
+roof in a strange land, and with his crippled means, he had yet found
+solacing. He conjured before him a bud by the side of that beauteous
+flower, sharing all her lustre and all her fragrance, his own Venetia!
+What happiness might not have been his? And for what had he forfeited
+it? A dream, with no dream-like beauty; a perturbed, and restless, and
+agitated dream, from which he had now woke shattered and exhausted.
+
+He had sacrificed his fortune, he had forfeited his country, he had
+alienated his wife, and he had lost his child; the home of his heroic
+ancestry, the ancient land whose fame and power they had created, the
+beauteous and gifted woman who would have clung for ever to his bosom,
+and her transcendant offspring worthy of all their loves! Profound
+philosopher!
+
+The clock of the convent struck the second hour after midnight.
+Herbert started. And all this time where were Annabel and Venetia?
+They still lived, they were in the same country, an hour ago they were
+under the same roof, in the same chamber; their hands had joined,
+their hearts had opened, for a moment he had dared to believe that all
+that he cared for might be regained. And why was it not? The cause,
+the cause? It recurred to him with associations of dislike, of
+disgust, of wrath, of hatred, of which one whose heart was so tender,
+and whose reason was so clear, could under the influence of no other
+feelings have been capable. The surrounding scene, that had so often
+soothed his mournful soul, and connected it with the last hours of
+a spirit to whom he bore much resemblance, was now looked upon with
+aversion. To rid himself of ties, now so dreadful, was all his
+ambition. He entered the house quickly, and, seating himself in his
+closet, he wrote these words:
+
+'You beheld this morning my wife and child; we can meet no more. All
+that I can effect to console you under this sudden separation shall be
+done. My banker from Bologna will be here in two days; express to him
+all your wishes.'
+
+It was written, sealed, directed, and left upon the table at which
+they had so often been seated. Herbert descended into the garden,
+saddled his horse, and in a few minutes, in the heart of night, had
+quitted Arqua.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+The moment that the wife of Marmion Herbert re-entered her saloon, she
+sent for her courier and ordered horses to her carriage instantly.
+Until they were announced as ready, Lady Annabel walked up and down
+the room with an impatient step, but was as completely silent as the
+miserable Venetia, who remained weeping on the sofa. The confusion and
+curiosity of Mistress Pauncefort were extraordinary. She still had a
+lurking suspicion that the gentleman was Lord Cadurcis and she seized
+the first opportunity of leaving the room, and flouncing into that of
+the stranger, as if by mistake, determined to catch a glimpse of him;
+but all her notable skill was baffled, for she had scarcely opened the
+door before she was met by the Italian lady, who received Mistress
+Pauncefort's ready-made apology, and bowed her away. The faithful
+attendant then hurried downstairs to crossexamine the waiter, but,
+though she gained considerable information from that functionary, it
+was of a perplexing nature; for from him she only learnt that the
+stranger lived at Arqua. 'The German gentleman!' soliloquised Mistress
+Pauncefort; 'and what could he have to say to Miss Venetia! and a
+married man, too! Well, to be sure, there is nothing like travelling
+for adventures! And I must say, considering all that I know, and how
+I have held my tongue for nearly twenty years, I think it is very
+strange indeed of my lady to have any secrets from me. Secrets,
+indeed! Poh!' and Mistress Pauncefort flounced again into Lady
+Annabel's room, with a face of offended pride, knocking the books
+about, dashing down writing cases, tossing about work, and making as
+much noise and disturbance as if she had a separate quarrel with every
+single article under her superintendence.
+
+In the meantime the carriage was prepared, to which they were obliged
+almost to carry Venetia, feeble and stupefied with grief. Uncertain
+of her course, but anxious, in the present state of her daughter, for
+rest and quiet, Lady Annabel ordered the courier to proceed to Padua,
+at which city they arrived late at night, scarcely a word having been
+interchanged during the whole journey between Lady Annabel and her
+child, though infinite were the soft and soothing attentions which the
+mother lavished upon her. Night, however, brought no rest to Venetia;
+and the next day, her state appeared so alarming to Lady Annabel, that
+she would have instantly summoned medical assistance, had it not been
+for Venetia's strong objections. 'Indeed, dear mother,' she said,
+'it is not physicians that I require. They cannot cure me. Let me be
+quiet.'
+
+The same cause, indeed, which during the last five years had at
+intervals so seriously menaced the existence of this unhappy girl, was
+now at work with renovated and even irresistible influence. Her frame
+could no longer endure the fatal action of her over-excited nerves.
+Her first illness, however alarming, had been baffled by time, skill,
+and principally by the vigour of an extremely youthful frame, then a
+stranger to any serious indisposition. At a later period, the change
+of life induced by their residence at Weymouth had permitted her again
+to rally. She had quitted England with renewed symptoms of her former
+attack, but a still more powerful change, not only of scene, but of
+climate and country, and the regular and peaceful life she had led on
+the Lago Maggiore, had again reassured the mind of her anxious mother.
+This last adventure at Rovigo, however, prostrated her. The strange
+surprise, the violent development of feeling, the agonising doubts and
+hopes, the terrible suspense the profound and bitter and overwhelming
+disappointment, all combined to shake her mind to its very
+foundations. She felt for the first time, that she could no longer
+bear up against the torture of her singular position. Her energy was
+entirely exhausted; she was no longer capable of making the slightest
+exertion; she took refuge in that torpid resignation that results from
+utter hopelessness.
+
+Lying on her sofa with her eyes fixed in listless abstraction, the
+scene at Rovigo flitted unceasingly before her languid vision. At
+length she had seen that father, that unknown and mysterious father,
+whose idea had haunted her infancy as if by inspiration; to gain
+the slightest knowledge of whom had cost her many long and acute
+suffering; and round whose image for so many years every thought of
+her intelligence, and every feeling of her heart, had clustered like
+spirits round some dim and mystical altar, At length she had beheld
+him; she had gazed on that spiritual countenance; she had listened to
+the tender accents of that musical voice; within his arms she had been
+folded with rapture, and pressed to a heart that seemed to beat
+only for her felicity. The blessing of her father, uttered by his
+long-loved lips, had descended on her brow, and been sealed with his
+passionate embrace.
+
+The entrance of her mother, that terrible contest of her lacerated
+heart, when her two parents, as it were, appealed to her love, which
+they would not share; the inspiration of her despair, that so suddenly
+had removed the barriers of long years, before whose irresistible
+pathos her father had bent a penitent, and her mother's inexorable
+pride had melted; the ravishing bliss that for a moment had thrilled
+through her, being experienced too for the first time, when she felt
+that her parents were again united and bound by the sweet tie of her
+now happy existence; this was the drama acted before her with an
+almost ceaseless repetition of its transporting incidents; and when
+she looked round, and beheld her mother sitting alone, and watching
+her with a countenance almost of anguish, it was indeed with extreme
+difficulty that Venetia could persuade herself that all had not been a
+reverie; and she was only convinced of the contrary by that heaviness
+of the heart which too quickly assures us of the reality of those
+sorrows of which fancy for a moment may cheat us into scepticism.
+
+And indeed her mother was scarcely less miserable. The sight of
+Herbert, so changed from the form that she remembered; those tones of
+heart-rending sincerity, in which he had mournfully appealed to the
+influence of time and sorrow on his life, still greatly affected her.
+She had indulged for a moment in a dream of domestic love, she had
+cast to the winds the inexorable determination of a life, and had
+mingled her tears with those of her husband and her child. And how
+had she been repaid? By a degrading catastrophe, from whose revolting
+associations her mind recoiled with indignation and disgust. But her
+lingering feeling for her husband, her own mortification, were as
+nothing compared with the harrowing anxiety she now entertained for
+her daughter. To converse with Venetia on the recent occurrence was
+impossible. It was a subject which admitted of no discussion. They
+had passed a week at Padua, and the slightest allusion to what had
+happened had never been made by either Lady Annabel or her child. It
+was only by her lavish testimonies of affection that Lady Annabel
+conveyed to Venetia how deeply she sympathised with her, and how
+unhappy she was herself. She had, indeed, never quitted for a moment
+the side of her daughter, and witnessed each day, with renewed
+anguish, her deplorable condition; for Venetia continued in a state
+which, to those unacquainted with her, might have been mistaken for
+insensibility, but her mother knew too well that it was despair.
+She never moved, she never sighed, nor wept; she took no notice of
+anything that occurred; she sought relief in no resources. Books, and
+drawings, and music, were quite forgotten by her; nothing amused, and
+nothing annoyed her; she was not even fretful; she had, apparently,
+no physical ailment; she remained pale and silent, plunged in an
+absorbing paroxysm of overwhelming woe.
+
+The unhappy Lady Annabel, at a loss how to act, at length thought it
+might be advisable to cross over to Venice. She felt assured now, that
+it would be a long time, if ever, before her child could again endure
+the fatigue of travel; and she thought that for every reason, whether
+for domestic comfort or medical advice, or those multifarious
+considerations which interest the invalid, a capital was by far the
+most desirable residence for them. There was a time when a visit to
+the city that had given her a name had been a favourite dream of
+Venetia; she had often sighed to be within
+
+  The sea-born city's walls; the graceful towers
+  Loved by the bard.
+
+Those lines of her father had long echoed in her ear; but now the
+proposition called no light to her glazed eye, nor summoned for an
+instant the colour back to her cheek. She listened to her mother's
+suggestion, and expressed her willingness to do whatever she desired.
+Venice to her was now only a name; for, without the presence and the
+united love of both her parents, no spot on earth could interest, and
+no combination of circumstances affect her. To Venice, however, they
+departed, having previously taken care that every arrangement should
+be made for their reception. The English ambassador at the Ducal court
+was a relative of Lady Annabel, and therefore no means or exertions
+were spared to study and secure the convenience and accommodation of
+the invalid. The barge of the ambassador met them at Fusina; and when
+Venetia beheld the towers and cupolas of Venice, suffused with a
+golden light and rising out of the bright blue waters, for a moment
+her spirit seemed to lighten. It is indeed a spectacle as beautiful as
+rare, and one to which the world offers few, if any, rivals. Gliding
+over the great Lagune, the buildings, with which the pictures at
+Cherbury had already made her familiar, gradually rose up before her:
+the mosque-like Church of St. Marc, the tall Campanile red in the sun,
+the Moresco Palace of the Doges, the deadly Bridge of Sighs, and the
+dark structure to which it leads.
+
+Venice had not then fallen. The gorgeous standards of the sovereign
+republic, and its tributary kingdoms, still waved in the Place of St.
+Marc; the Bucentaur was not rotting in the Arsenal, and the warlike
+galleys of the state cruised without the Lagune; a busy and
+picturesque population swarmed in all directions; and the Venetian
+noble, the haughtiest of men, might still be seen proudly moving from
+the council of state, or stepping into a gondola amid a bowing crowd.
+All was stirring life, yet all was silent; the fantastic architecture,
+the glowing sky, the flitting gondolas, and the brilliant crowd
+gliding about with noiseless step, this city without sound, it seemed
+a dream!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The ambassador had engaged for Lady Annabel a palace on the Grand
+Canal, belonging to Count Manfrini. It was a structure of great size
+and magnificence, and rose out of the water with a flight of marble
+steps. Within was a vast gallery, lined with statues and busts on tall
+pedestals; suites of spacious apartments, with marble floors and
+hung with satin; ceilings painted by Tintoretto and full of Turkish
+trophies; furniture alike sumptuous and massy; the gilding, although
+of two hundred years' duration, as bright and burnished as if it
+had but yesterday been touched with the brush; sequin gold, as
+the Venetians tell you to this day with pride. But even their old
+furniture will soon not be left to them, as palaces are now daily
+broken up like old ships, and their colossal spoils consigned to
+Hanway Yard and Bond Street, whence, re-burnished and vamped up, their
+Titantic proportions in time appropriately figure in the boudoirs of
+May Fair and the miniature saloons of St. James'. Many a fine lady now
+sits in a doge's chair, and many a dandy listens to his doom from a
+couch that has already witnessed the less inexorable decrees of the
+Council of Ten.
+
+Amid all this splendour, however, one mournful idea alone pervaded the
+tortured consciousness of Lady Annabel Herbert. Daily the dark truth
+stole upon her with increased conviction, that Venetia had come hither
+only to die. There seemed to the agitated ear of this distracted
+mother a terrible omen even in the very name of her child; and she
+could not resist the persuasion that her final destiny would, in some
+degree, be connected with her fanciful appellation. The physicians,
+for hopeless as Lady Annabel could not resist esteeming their
+interference, Venetia was now surrounded with physicians, shook their
+heads, prescribed different remedies and gave contrary opinions; each
+day, however, their patient became more languid, thinner and more
+thin, until she seemed like a beautiful spirit gliding into the
+saloon, leaning on her mother's arm, and followed by Pauncefort, who
+had now learnt the fatal secret from, her mistress, and whose heart
+was indeed almost broken at the prospect of the calamity that was
+impending over them.
+
+At Padua, Lady Annabel, in her mortified reveries, outraged as she
+conceived by her husband, and anxious about her daughter, had schooled
+herself into visiting her fresh calamities on the head of the unhappy
+Herbert, to whose intrusion and irresistible influence she ascribed
+all the illness of her child; but, as the indisposition of Venetia
+gradually, but surely, increased, until at length it assumed so
+alarming an aspect that Lady Annabel, in the distraction of her mind,
+could no longer refrain from contemplating the most fatal result, she
+had taught herself bitterly to regret the failure of that approaching
+reconciliation which now she could not but believe would, at least,
+have secured her the life of Venetia. Whatever might be the risk
+of again uniting herself with her husband, whatever might be the
+mortification and misery which it might ultimately, or even speedily,
+entail upon her, there was no unhappiness that she could herself
+experience, which for one moment she could put in competition with the
+existence of her child. When that was the question, every feeling
+that had hitherto impelled her conduct assumed a totally different
+complexion. That conduct, in her view, had been a systematic sacrifice
+of self to secure the happiness of her daughter; and the result of all
+her exertions was, that not only her happiness was destroyed, but her
+life was fast vanishing away. To save Venetia, it now appeared to Lady
+Annabel that there was no extremity which she would not endure; and if
+it came to a question, whether Venetia should survive, or whether
+she should even be separated from her mother, her maternal heart now
+assured her that she would not for an instant hesitate in preferring
+an eternal separation to the death of her child. Her terror now worked
+to such a degree upon her character, that she even, at times, half
+resolved to speak to Venetia upon the subject, and contrive some
+method of communicating her wishes to her father; but pride, the
+habitual repugnance of so many years to converse upon the topic,
+mingled also, as should be confessed, with an indefinite apprehension
+of the ill consequences of a conversation of such a character on the
+nervous temperament of her daughter, restrained her.
+
+'My love!' said Lady Annabel, one day to her daughter, 'do you think
+you could go out? The physicians think it of great importance that you
+should attempt to exert yourself, however slightly.'
+
+'Dear mother, if anything could annoy me from your lips, it would
+be to hear you quote these physicians,' said Venetia. 'Their daily
+presence and inquiries irritate me. Let me be at peace. I wish to see
+no one but you.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a voice of great emotion,
+'Venetia--,' and here she paused; 'think of my anxiety.'
+
+'Dear mother, it would be ungrateful for me ever to forget that. But
+you, and you alone, know that my state, whatever it may be, and to
+whatever it may be I am reconciled, is not produced by causes over
+which these physicians have any control, over which no one has
+control--now,' added Venetia, in a tone of great mournfulness.
+
+For here we must remark that so inexperienced was Venetia in the
+feelings of others, and so completely did she judge of the strength
+and purity of their emotions from her own, that reflection, since the
+terrible adventure of Rovigo, had only convinced her that it was no
+longer in her mother's power to unite herself again with her other
+parent. She had taught herself to look upon her father's burst of
+feeling towards Lady Annabel as the momentary and inevitable result of
+a meeting so unexpected and overpowering, but she did not doubt that
+the stranger whose presence had ultimately so fatally clouded that
+interview of promise, possessed claims upon Marmion Herbert which he
+would neither break, nor, upon reflection, be desirous to question. It
+was then the conviction that a reconciliation between her parents was
+now impossible, in which her despair originated, and she pictured to
+herself her father once more at Arqua disturbed, perhaps, for a day
+or two, as he naturally must be, by an interview so sudden and so
+harassing; shedding a tear, perhaps, in secret to the wife whom he had
+injured, and the child whom he had scarcely seen; but relapsing, alike
+from the force of habit and inclination, into those previous and
+confirmed feelings, under whose influence, she was herself a witness,
+his life had been so serene, and even so laudable. She was confirmed
+in these opinions by the circumstance of their never having heard
+since from him. Placed in his situation, if indeed an irresistible
+influence were not controlling him, would he have hesitated for a
+moment to have prevented even their departure, or to have pursued
+them; to have sought at any rate some means of communicating with
+them? He was plainly reconciled to his present position, and felt that
+under these circumstances silence on his part was alike kindest and
+most discreet. Venetia had ceased, therefore, to question the justice
+or the expediency, or even the abstract propriety, of her mother's
+conduct. She viewed their condition now as the result of stern
+necessity. She pitied her mother, and for herself she had no hope.
+
+There was then much meaning in that little monosyllable with which
+Venetia concluded her reply to her mother. She had no hope 'now.' Lady
+Annabel, however, ascribed it to a very different meaning; she only
+believed that her daughter was of opinion that nothing would induce
+her now to listen to the overtures of her father. Prepared for any
+sacrifice of self, Lady Annabel replied, 'But there is hope, Venetia;
+when your life is in question, there is nothing that should not be
+done.'
+
+'Nothing can be done,' said Venetia, who, of course, could not dream
+of what was passing in her mother's mind.
+
+Lady Annabel rose from her seat and walked to the window; apparently
+her eye watched only the passing gondolas, but indeed she saw them
+not; she saw only her child stretched perhaps on the couch of death.
+
+'We quitted, perhaps, Rovigo too hastily,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+choking voice, and with a face of scarlet. It was a terrible struggle,
+but the words were uttered.
+
+'No, mother,' said Venetia, to Lady Annabel's inexpressible surprise,
+'we did right to go.'
+
+'Even my child, even Venetia, with all her devotion to him, feels the
+absolute necessity of my conduct,' thought Lady Annabel. Her pride
+returned; she felt the impossibility of making an overture to Herbert;
+she looked upon their daughter as the last victim of his fatal career.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+How beautiful is night in Venice! Then music and the moon reign
+supreme; the glittering sky reflected in the waters, and every gondola
+gliding with sweet sounds! Around on every side are palaces and
+temples, rising from the waves which they shadow with their solemn
+forms, their costly fronts rich with the spoils of kingdoms, and
+softened with the magic of the midnight beam. The whole city too is
+poured forth for festival. The people lounge on the quays and cluster
+on the bridges; the light barks skim along in crowds, just touching
+the surface of the water, while their bright prows of polished iron
+gleam in the moonshine, and glitter in the rippling wave. Not a sound
+that is not graceful: the tinkle of guitars, the sighs of serenaders,
+and the responsive chorus of gondoliers. Now and then a laugh,
+light, joyous, and yet musical, bursts forth from some illuminated
+coffee-house, before which a buffo disports, a tumbler stands on his
+head, or a juggler mystifies; and all for a sequin!
+
+The Place of St. Marc, at the period of our story, still presented the
+most brilliant spectacle of the kind in Europe. Not a spot was more
+distinguished for elegance, luxury, and enjoyment. It was indeed the
+inner shrine of the temple of pleasure, and very strange and amusing
+would be the annals of its picturesque arcades. We must not, however,
+step behind their blue awnings, but content ourselves with the
+exterior scene; and certainly the Place of St. Marc, with the
+variegated splendour of its Christian mosque, the ornate architecture
+of its buildings, its diversified population, a tribute from every
+shore of the midland sea, and where the noble Venetian, in his robe
+of crimson silk, and long white peruque, might be jostled by the
+Sclavonian with his target, and the Albanian in his kilt, while the
+Turk, sitting cross-legged on his Persian carpet, smoked his long
+chibouque with serene gravity, and the mild Armenian glided by him
+with a low reverence, presented an aspect under a Venetian moon such
+as we shall not easily find again in Christendom, and, in spite of the
+dying glory and the neighbouring vice, was pervaded with an air of
+romance and refinement, compared with which the glittering dissipation
+of Paris, even in its liveliest and most graceful hours, assumes a
+character alike coarse and commonplace.
+
+It is the hour of love and of faro; now is the hour to press your suit
+and to break a bank; to glide from the apartment of rapture into the
+chamber of chance. Thus a noble Venetian contrived to pass the night,
+in alternations of excitement that in general left him sufficiently
+serious for the morrow's council. For more vulgar tastes there was the
+minstrel, the conjuror, and the story-teller, goblets of Cyprus wine,
+flasks of sherbet, and confectionery that dazzled like diamonds. And
+for every one, from the grave senator to the gay gondolier, there was
+an atmosphere in itself a spell, and which, after all, has more to do
+with human happiness than all the accidents of fortune and all the
+arts of government.
+
+Amid this gay and brilliant multitude, one human being stood alone.
+Muffled in his cloak, and leaning against a column in the portico
+of St. Marc, an expression of oppressive care and affliction was
+imprinted on his countenance, and ill accorded with the light and
+festive scene. Had he been crossed in love, or had he lost at
+play? Was it woman or gold to which his anxiety and sorrow were
+attributable, for under one or other of these categories, undoubtedly,
+all the miseries of man may range. Want of love, or want of money,
+lies at the bottom of all our griefs.
+
+The stranger came forward, and leaving the joyous throng, turned down
+the Piazzetta, and approached the quay of the Lagune. A gondolier
+saluted him, and he entered his boat.
+
+'Whither, signor?' said the gondolier.
+
+'To the Grand Canal,' he replied.
+
+Over the moonlit wave the gondola swiftly skimmed! The scene was a
+marvellous contrast to the one which the stranger had just quitted;
+but it brought no serenity to his careworn countenance, though his eye
+for a moment kindled as he looked upon the moon, that was sailing in
+the cloudless heaven with a single star by her side.
+
+They had soon entered the Grand Canal, and the gondolier looked to his
+employer for instructions. 'Row opposite to the Manfrini palace,' said
+the stranger, 'and rest upon your oar.'
+
+The blinds of the great window of the palace were withdrawn.
+Distinctly might be recognised a female figure bending over the
+recumbent form of a girl. An hour passed away and still the gondola
+was motionless, and still the silent stranger gazed on the inmates of
+the palace. A servant now came forward and closed the curtain of the
+chamber. The stranger sighed, and waving his hand to the gondolier,
+bade him return to the Lagune.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+It is curious to recall our feelings at a moment when a great event
+is impending over us, and we are utterly unconscious of its probable
+occurrence. How often does it happen that a subject which almost
+unceasingly engages our mind, is least thought of at the very instant
+that the agitating suspense involved in its consideration is perhaps
+about to be terminated for ever! The very morning after the mysterious
+gondola had rested so long before the Manfrini Palace, Venetia rose
+for the first time since the flight from Rovigo, refreshed by her
+slumbers, and tranquil in her spirit. It was not in her power
+to recall her dreams; but they had left a vague and yet serene
+impression. There seemed a lightness in her heart, that long had been
+unusual with her, and she greeted her mother with a smile, faint
+indeed, yet natural.
+
+Perhaps this beneficial change, slight but still delightful, might be
+attributed to the softness and the splendour of the morn. Before the
+approach of winter, it seemed that the sun was resolved to remind the
+Venetians that they were his children; and that, although his rays
+might be soon clouded for a season, they were not to believe that
+their parent had deserted them. The sea was like glass, a golden haze
+suffused the horizon, and a breeze, not strong enough to disturb the
+waters, was wafted at intervals from the gardens of the Brenta, fitful
+and sweet.
+
+Venetia had yielded to the suggestion of her mother, and had agreed
+for the first time to leave the palace. They stepped into their
+gondola, and were wafted to an island in the Lagune where there was
+a convent, and, what in Venice was more rare and more delightful, a
+garden. Its scanty shrubberies sparkled in the sun; and a cypress
+flanked by a pine-tree offered to the eye unused to trees a novel and
+picturesque group. Beneath its shade they rested, watching on one side
+the distant city, and on the other the still and gleaming waters of
+the Adriatic. While they were thus sitting, renovated by the soft air
+and pleasant spectacle, a holy father, with a beard like a meteor,
+appeared and addressed them.
+
+'Welcome to St. Lazaro!' said the holy father, speaking in English;
+'and may the peace that reigns within its walls fill also your
+breasts!'
+
+'Indeed, holy father,' said Lady Annabel to the Armenian monk, 'I have
+long heard of your virtues and your happy life.'
+
+'You know that Paradise was placed in our country,' said the monk with
+a smile. 'We have all lost Paradise, but the Armenian has lost his
+country too. Nevertheless, with God's blessing, on this islet we have
+found an Eden, pure at least and tranquil.'
+
+'For the pious, Paradise exists everywhere,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'You have been in England, holy father?' said Venetia.
+
+'It has not been my good fortune,' replied the monk.
+
+'Yet you speak our tongue with a facility and accent that surprise
+me.'
+
+'I learnt it in America where I long resided,' rejoined the Armenian.
+
+'This is for your eye, lady,' continued the monk, drawing a letter
+from his bosom.
+
+Lady Annabel felt not a little surprised; but the idea immediately
+occurred to her that it was some conventual memorial appealing to her
+charity. She took the paper from the monk, who immediately moved away;
+but what was the agitation of Lady Annabel when she recognised the
+handwriting of her husband! Her first thought was to save Venetia
+from sharing that agitation. She rose quickly; she commanded herself
+sufficiently to advise her daughter, in a calm tone, to remain seated,
+while for a moment she refreshed herself by a stroll. She had not
+quitted Venetia many paces, when she broke the seal and read these
+lines:
+
+'Tremble not, Annabel, when you recognise this handwriting. It is that
+of one whose only aspiration is to contribute to your happiness; and
+although the fulfilment of that fond desire may be denied him, it
+never shall be said, even by you, that any conduct of his should now
+occasion you annoyance. I am in Venice at the peril of my life, which
+I only mention because the difficulties inseparable from my position
+are the principal cause that you did not receive this communication
+immediately after our strange meeting. I have gazed at night upon your
+palace, and watched the forms of my wife and our child; but one word
+from you, and I quit Venice for ever, and it shall not be my fault if
+you are ever again disturbed by the memory of the miserable Herbert.
+
+'But before I go, I will make this one appeal if not to your justice,
+at least to your mercy. After the fatal separation of a life, we have
+once more met: you have looked upon me not with hatred; my hand has
+once more pressed yours; for a moment I indulged the impossible hope,
+that this weary and exhausted spirit might at length be blessed. With
+agony I allude to the incident that dispelled the rapture of
+this vision. Sufficient for me most solemnly to assure you that
+four-and-twenty hours had not elapsed without that feeble and
+unhallowed tie being severed for ever! It vanished instantaneously
+before the presence of my wife and my child. However you decide, it
+can never again subsist: its utter and eternal dissolution was the
+inevitable homage to your purity.
+
+'Whatever may have been my errors, whatever my crimes, for I will not
+attempt to justify to you a single circumstance of my life, I humble
+myself in the dust before you, and solicit only mercy; yet whatever
+may have been my career, ah! Annabel, in the infinite softness of your
+soul was it not for a moment pardoned? Am I indeed to suffer for that
+last lamentable intrusion? You are a woman, Annabel, with a brain as
+clear as your heart is pure. Judge me with calmness, Annabel; were
+there no circumstances in my situation to extenuate that deplorable
+connection? I will not urge them; I will not even intimate them; but
+surely, Annabel, when I kneel before you full of deep repentance and
+long remorse, if you could pardon the past, it is not that incident,
+however mortifying to you, however disgraceful to myself, that should
+be an impassable barrier to all my hopes!
+
+'Once you loved me; I ask you not to love me now. There is nothing
+about me now that can touch the heart of woman. I am old before my
+time; bent with the blended influence of action and of thought, and of
+physical and moral suffering. The play of my spirit has gone for ever.
+My passions have expired like my hopes. The remaining sands of my life
+are few. Once it was otherwise: you can recall a different picture of
+the Marmion on whom you smiled, and of whom you were the first love. O
+Annabel! grey, feeble, exhausted, penitent, let me stagger over your
+threshold, and die! I ask no more; I will not hope for your affection;
+I will not even count upon your pity; but endure my presence; let your
+roof screen my last days!'
+
+It was read; it was read again, dim as was the sight of Lady Annabel
+with fast-flowing tears. Still holding the letter, but with hands
+fallen, she gazed upon the shining waters before her in a fit of
+abstraction. It was the voice of her child that roused her.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia in a tone of some decision, 'you are troubled,
+and we have only one cause of trouble. That letter is from my father.'
+
+Lady Annabel gave her the letter in silence.
+
+Venetia withdrew almost unconsciously a few paces from her mother. She
+felt this to be the crisis of her life. There never was a moment which
+she believed required more fully the presence of all her energies.
+Before she had addressed Lady Annabel, she had endeavoured to steel
+her mind to great exertion. Yet now that she held the letter, she
+could not command herself sufficiently to read it. Her breath deserted
+her; her hand lost its power; she could not even open the lines on
+which perhaps her life depended. Suddenly, with a rapid effort, she
+glanced at the contents. The blood returned to her check; her eye
+became bright with excitement; she gasped for breath; she advanced to
+Lady Annabel. 'Ah! mother,' she exclaimed, 'you will grant all that it
+desires!'
+
+Still gazing on the wave that laved the shore of the island with an
+almost inperceptible ripple, Lady Annabel continued silent.
+
+'Mother,' said Venetia, 'my beloved mother, you hesitate.' She
+approached Lady Annabel, and with one arm round her neck, she grasped
+with the other her mother's hand. 'I implore you, by all that
+affection which you lavish on me, yield to this supplication. O
+mother! dearest mother! it has been my hope that my life has been at
+least a life of duty; I have laboured to yield to all your wishes.
+I have struggled to make their fulfilment the law of my being. Yes!
+mother, your memory will assure you, that when the sweetest emotions
+of my heart were the stake, you appealed to me to sacrifice them, and
+they were dedicated to your will. Have I ever murmured? I have sought
+only to repay your love by obedience. Speak to me, dearest mother! I
+implore you speak to me! Tell me, can you ever repent relenting in
+this instance? O mother! you will not hesitate; you will not indeed;
+you will bring joy and content to our long-harassed hearth! Tell me
+so; I beseech you tell me so! I wish, oh! how I wish, that you would
+comply from the mere impulse of your own heart! But, grant that it
+is a sacrifice; grant that it may be unwise; that it may be vain; I
+supplicate you to make it! I, your child, who never deserted you, who
+will never desert you, pledging my faith to you in the face of heaven;
+for my sake, I supplicate you to make it. You do not hesitate; you
+cannot hesitate; mother, you cannot hesitate. Ah! you would not if you
+knew all; if you knew all the misery of my life, you would be glad;
+you would be cheerful; you would look upon this as an interposition of
+Providence in favour of your Venetia; you would, indeed, dear mother!'
+
+'What evil fortune guided our steps to Italy?' said Lady Annabel in a
+solemn tone, and as if in soliloquy.
+
+'No, no, mother; not evil fortune; fortune the best and brightest,'
+exclaimed her daughter, 'We came here to be happy, and happiness we
+have at length gained. It is in our grasp; I feel it. It was not
+fortune, dear mother! it was fate, it was Providence, it was God. You
+have been faithful to Him, and He has brought back to you my father,
+chastened and repentant. God has turned his heart to all your virtues.
+Will you desert him? No, no, mother, you will not, you cannot; for his
+sake, for your own sake, and for your child's, you will not!'
+
+'For twenty years I have acted from an imperious sense of duty,' said
+Lady Annabel, 'and for your sake, Venetia, as much as for my own.
+Shall the feelings of a moment--'
+
+'O mother! dearest mother! say not these words. With me, at least,
+it has not been the feeling of a moment. It haunted my infancy; it
+harassed me while a girl; it has brought me in the prime of womanhood
+to the brink of the grave. And with you, mother, has it been the
+feeling of a moment? Ah! you ever loved him, when his name was never
+breathed by those lips. You loved him when you deemed he had forgotten
+you; when you pictured him to yourself in all the pride of health and
+genius, wanton and daring; and now, now that he comes to you penitent,
+perhaps dying, more like a remorseful spirit than a breathing being,
+and humbles himself before you, and appeals only to your mercy, ah! my
+mother, you cannot reject, you could not reject him, even if you were
+alone, even if you had no child!'
+
+'My child! my child! all my hopes were in my child,' murmured Lady
+Annabel.
+
+'Is she not by your side?' said Venetia.
+
+'You know not what you ask; you know not what you counsel,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'It has been the prayer and effort of my life that you should
+never know. There is a bitterness in the reconciliation which follows
+long estrangement, that yields a pang more acute even than the first
+disunion. Shall I be called upon to mourn over the wasted happiness of
+twenty years? Why did he not hate us?'
+
+'The pang is already felt, mother,' said Venetia. 'Reject my father,
+but you cannot resume the feelings of a month back. You have seen
+him; you have listened to him. He is no longer the character which
+justified your conduct, and upheld you under the trial. His image has
+entered your soul; your heart is softened. Bid him quit Venice without
+seeing you, and you will remain the most miserable of women.'
+
+'On his head, then, be the final desolation,' said Lady Annabel; 'it
+is but a part of the lot that he has yielded me.'
+
+'I am silent,' said Venetia, relaxing her grasp. 'I see that your
+child is not permitted to enter into your considerations.' She turned
+away.
+
+'Venetia!' said her mother.
+
+'Mother!' said Venetia, looking back, but not returning.
+
+'Return one moment to me.'
+
+Venetia slowly rejoined her. Lady Annabel spoke in a kind and gentle,
+though serious tone.
+
+'Venetia,' she said, 'what I am about to speak is not the impulse of
+the moment, but has been long revolved in my mind; do not, therefore,
+misapprehend it. I express without passion what I believe to be truth.
+I am persuaded that the presence of your father is necessary to
+your happiness; nay, more, to your life. I recognise the mysterious
+influence which he has ever exercised over your existence. I feel it
+impossible for me any longer to struggle against a power to which I
+bow. Be happy, then, my daughter, and live. Fly to your father, and be
+to him as matchless a child as you have been to me.' She uttered these
+last words in a choking voice.
+
+'Is this, indeed, the dictate of your calm judgment, mother?' said
+Venetia.
+
+'I call God to witness, it has of late been more than once on my lips.
+The other night, when I spoke of Rovigo, I was about to express this.'
+
+'Then, mother!' said Venetia, 'I find that I have been misunderstood.
+At least I thought my feelings towards yourself had been appreciated.
+They have not; and I can truly say, my life does not afford a single
+circumstance to which I can look back with content. Well will it
+indeed be for me to die?'
+
+'The dream of my life,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of infinite
+distress, 'was that she, at least, should never know unhappiness. It
+was indeed a dream.'
+
+There was now a silence of several minutes. Lady Annabel remained in
+exactly the same position, Venetia standing at a little distance from
+her, looking resigned and sorrowful.
+
+'Venetia,' at length said Lady Annabel, 'why are you silent?'
+
+'Mother, I have no more to say. I pretend not to act in this life; it
+is my duty to follow you.'
+
+'And your inclination?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'I have ceased to have a wish upon any subject,' said Venetia.
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, with a great effort, 'I am miserable.'
+
+This unprecedented confession of suffering from the strong mind of her
+mother, melted Venetia to the heart. She advanced, and threw her arms
+round her mother's neck, and buried her weeping face in Lady Annabel's
+bosom.
+
+'Speak to me, my daughter,' said Lady Annabel; 'counsel me, for my
+mind trembles; anxiety has weakened it. Nay, I beseech you, speak.
+Speak, speak, Venetia. What shall I do?'
+
+'Mother, I will never say anything again but that I love you!'
+
+'I see the holy father in the distance. Let us walk to him, my child,
+and meet him.'
+
+Accordingly Lady Annabel, now leaning on Venetia, approached the monk.
+About five minutes elapsed before they reached him, during which not a
+word was spoken.
+
+'Holy father,' said Lady Annabel, in a tone of firmness that surprised
+her daughter and made her tremble with anticipation, 'you know the
+writer of this letter?'
+
+'He is my friend of many years, lady,' replied the Armenian; 'I knew
+him in America. I owe to him my life, and more than my life. There
+breathes not his equal among men.'
+
+A tear started to the eye of Lady Annabel; she recalled the terms in
+which the household at Arqua had spoken of Herbert. 'He is in Venice?'
+she inquired.
+
+'He is within these walls,' the monk replied.
+
+Venetia, scarcely able to stand, felt her mother start. After a
+momentary pause, Lady Annabel said, 'Can I speak with him, and alone?'
+
+Nothing but the most nervous apprehension of throwing any obstacle in
+the way of the interview could have sustained Venetia. Quite pale,
+with her disengaged hand clenched, not a word escaped her lips. She
+hung upon the answer of the monk.
+
+'You can see him, and alone,' said the monk. 'He is now in the
+sacristy. Follow me.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, 'remain in this garden. I will accompany
+this holy man. Stop! embrace me before I go, and,' she added, in a
+whisper, 'pray for me.'
+
+It needed not the admonition of her mother to induce Venetia to seek
+refuge in prayer, in this agony of her life. But for its salutary and
+stilling influence, it seemed to her that she must have forfeited all
+control over her mind. The suspense was too terrible for human aid to
+support her. Seated by the sea-side, she covered her face with her
+hands, and invoked the Supreme assistance. More than an hour passed
+away. Venetia looked up. Two beautiful birds, of strange form and
+spotless plumage, that perhaps had wandered from the Aegean, were
+hovering over her head, bright and glancing in the sun. She accepted
+their appearance as a good omen. At this moment she heard a voice,
+and, looking up, observed a monk in the distance, beckoning to her.
+She rose, and with a trembling step approached him. He retired, still
+motioning to her to follow him. She entered, by a low portal, a dark
+cloister; it led to an ante-chapel, through which, as she passed, her
+ear caught the solemn chorus of the brethren. Her step faltered; her
+sight was clouded; she was as one walking in a dream. The monk opened
+a door, and, retiring, waved his hand, as for her to enter. There was
+a spacious and lofty chamber, scantily furnished, some huge chests,
+and many sacred garments. At the extreme distance her mother was
+reclined on a bench, her head supported by a large crimson cushion,
+and her father kneeling by her mother's side. With a soundless step,
+and not venturing even to breathe, Venetia approached them, and, she
+knew not how, found herself embraced by both her parents.
+
+
+
+
+END OF BOOK V.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+In a green valley of the Apennines, close to the sea-coast between
+Genoa and Spezzia, is a marine villa, that once belonged to the
+Malaspina family, in olden time the friends and patrons of Dante. It
+is rather a fantastic pile, painted in fresco, but spacious, in good
+repair, and convenient. Although little more than a mile from Spezzia,
+a glimpse of the blue sea can only be caught from one particular spot,
+so completely is the land locked with hills, covered with groves of
+chestnut and olive orchards. From the heights, however, you enjoy
+magnificent prospects of the most picturesque portion of the Italian
+coast; a lofty, undulating, and wooded shore, with an infinite variety
+of bays and jutting promontories; while the eye, wandering from
+Leghorn on one side towards Genoa on the other, traces an almost
+uninterrupted line of hamlets and casinos, gardens and orchards,
+terraces of vines, and groves of olive. Beyond them, the broad and
+blue expanse of the midland ocean, glittering in the meridian blaze,
+or about to receive perhaps in its glowing waters the red orb of
+sunset.
+
+It was the month of May, in Italy, at least, the merry month of May,
+and Marmion Herbert came forth from the villa Malaspina, and throwing
+himself on the turf, was soon lost in the volume of Plato which he
+bore with him. He did not move until in the course of an hour he was
+roused by the arrival of servants, who brought seats and a table,
+when, looking up, he observed Lady Annabel and Venetia in the portico
+of the villa. He rose to greet them, and gave his arm to his wife.
+
+'Spring in the Apennines, my Annabel,' said Herbert, 'is a happy
+combination. I am more in love each day with this residence. The
+situation is so sheltered, the air so soft and pure, the spot so
+tranquil, and the season so delicious, that it realises all my romance
+of retirement. As for you, I never saw you look so well; and as for
+Venetia, I can scarcely believe this rosy nymph could have been our
+pale-eyed girl, who cost us such anxiety!'
+
+'Our breakfast is not ready. Let us walk to our sea view,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'Give me your book to carry, Marmion.'
+
+'There let the philosopher repose,' said Herbert, throwing the volume
+on the turf. 'Plato dreamed of what I enjoy.'
+
+'And of what did Plato dream, papa?' said Venetia.
+
+'He dreamed of love, child.'
+
+Venetia took her father's disengaged arm.
+
+They had now arrived at their sea view, a glimpse of the Mediterranean
+between two tall crags.
+
+'A sail in the offing,' said Herbert. 'How that solitary sail tells,
+Annabel!'
+
+'I feel the sea breeze, mother. Does not it remind you of Weymouth?'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah! Marmion,' said Lady Annabel, 'I would that you could see Masham
+once more. He is the only friend that I regret.'
+
+'He prospers, Annabel; let that be our consolation: I have at least
+not injured him.'
+
+They turned their steps; their breakfast was now prepared. The sun had
+risen above the hill beneath whose shade they rested, and the opposite
+side of the valley sparkled in light. It was a cheerful scene. 'I have
+a passion for living in the air,' said Herbert; 'I always envied the
+shepherds in Don Quixote. One of my youthful dreams was living among
+mountains of rosemary, and drinking only goat's milk. After breakfast
+I will read you Don Quixote's description of the golden age. I have
+often read it until the tears came into my eyes.'
+
+'We must fancy ourselves in Spain,' said Lady Annabel; 'it is not
+difficult in this wild green valley; and if we have not rosemary, we
+have scents as sweet. Nature is our garden here, Venetia; and I do not
+envy even the statues and cypresses of our villa of the lake.'
+
+'We must make a pilgrimage some day to the Maggiore, Annabel,' said
+Herbert. 'It is hallowed ground to me now.'
+
+Their meal was finished, the servants brought their work, and books,
+and drawings; and Herbert, resuming his natural couch, re-opened his
+Plato, but Venetia ran into the villa, and returned with a volume.
+'You must read us the golden age, papa,' she said, as she offered him,
+with a smile, his favourite Don Quixote.
+
+'You must fancy the Don looking earnestly upon a handful of acorns,'
+said Herbert, opening the book, 'while he exclaims, "O happy age!
+which our first parents called the age of gold! not because gold, so
+much adored in this iron age, was then easily purchased, but because
+those two fatal words, _meum_ and _tuum_, were distinctions unknown to
+the people of those fortunate times; for all things were in common in
+that holy age: men, for their sustenance, needed only to lift their
+hands, and take it from the sturdy oak, whose spreading arms liberally
+invited them to gather the wholesome savoury fruit; while the clear
+springs, and silver rivulets, with luxuriant plenty, afforded them
+their pure refreshing water. In hollow trees, and in the clefts
+of rocks, the labouring and industrious bees erected their little
+commonwealths, that men might reap with pleasure and with ease the
+sweet and fertile harvest of their toils, The tough and strenuous
+cork-trees did, of themselves, and without other art than their native
+liberality, dismiss and impart their broad light bark, which served to
+cover those lowly huts, propped up with rough-hewn stakes, that were
+first built as a shelter against the inclemencies of the air. All then
+was union, all peace, all love and friendship in the world. As yet no
+rude ploughshare presumed with violence to pry into the pious bowels
+of our mother earth, for she without compulsion kindly yielded from
+every part of her fruitful and spacious bosom, whatever might at once
+satisfy, sustain, and indulge her frugal children. Then was the time
+when innocent, beautiful young sheperdesses went tripping over the
+hills and vales; their lovely hair sometimes plaited, sometimes loose
+and flowing, clad in no other vestment but what the modesty of nature
+might require. The Tyrian dye, the rich glossy hue of silk, martyred
+and dissembled into every colour, which are now esteemed so fine and
+magnificent, were unknown to the innocent simplicity of that age; yet,
+bedecked with more becoming leaves and flowers, they outshone the
+proudest of the vaindressing ladies of our times, arrayed in the most
+magnificent garbs and all the most sumptuous adornings which idleness
+and luxury have taught succeeding pride. Lovers then expressed the
+passion of their souls in the unaffected language of the heart, with
+the native plainness and sincerity in which they were conceived, and
+divested of all that artificial contexture which enervates what it
+labours to enforce. Imposture, deceit, and malice had not yet crept
+in, and imposed themselves unbribed upon mankind in the disguise of
+truth: justice, unbiassed either by favour or interest, which now so
+fatally pervert it, was equally and impartially dispensed; nor was the
+judge's fancy law, for then there were neither judges nor causes to be
+judged. The modest maid might then walk alone. But, in this degenerate
+age, fraud and a legion of ills infecting the world, no virtue can be
+safe, no honour be secure; while wanton desires, diffused into the
+hearts of men, corrupt the strictest watches and the closest retreats,
+which, though as intricate, and unknown as the labyrinth of Crete,
+are no security for chastity. Thus, that primitive innocence being
+vanished, the oppression daily prevailing, there was a necessity
+to oppose the torrent of violence; for which reason the order of
+knighthood errant was instituted, to defend the honour of virgins,
+protect widows, relieve orphans, and assist all that are distressed.
+Now I myself am one of this order, honest friends and though all
+people are obliged by the law of nature to be kind to persons of my
+character, yet since you, without knowing anything of this obligation,
+have so generously entertained me, I ought to pay you my utmost
+acknowledgment, and accordingly return you my most hearty thanks."
+
+'There,' said Herbert, as he closed the book. 'In my opinion, Don
+Quixote was the best man that ever lived.'
+
+'But he did not ever live,' said Lady Annabel, smiling.
+
+'He lives to us,' said Herbert. 'He is the same to this age as if he
+had absolutely wandered over the plains of Castile and watched in the
+Sierra Morena. We cannot, indeed, find his tomb; but he has left us
+his great example. In his hero, Cervantes has given us the picture
+of a great and benevolent philosopher, and in his Sancho, a complete
+personification of the world, selfish and cunning, and yet overawed
+by the genius that he cannot comprehend: alive to all the material
+interests of existence, yet sighing after the ideal; securing his four
+young foals of the she-ass, yet indulging in dreams of empire.'
+
+'But what do you think of the assault on the windmills, Marmion?' said
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'In the outset of his adventures, as in the outset of our lives, he
+was misled by his enthusiasm,' replied Herbert, 'without which, after
+all, we can do nothing. But the result is, Don Quixote was a redresser
+of wrongs, and therefore the world esteemed him mad.'
+
+In this vein, now conversing, now occupied with their pursuits, and
+occasionally listening to some passage which Herbert called to their
+attention, and which ever served as the occasion for some critical
+remarks, always as striking from their originality as they were happy
+in their expression, the freshness of the morning disappeared; the sun
+now crowned the valley with his meridian beam, and they re-entered the
+villa. The ladies returned to their cool saloon, and Herbert to his
+study.
+
+It was there he amused himself by composing the following lines:
+
+  SPRING IN THE APENNINES.
+
+  I.
+
+  Spring in the Apennine now holds her court
+  Within an amphitheatre of hills,
+  Clothed with the blooming chestnut; musical
+  With murmuring pines, waving their light green cones
+  Like youthful Bacchants; while the dewy grass,
+  The myrtle and the mountain violet,
+  Blend their rich odours with the fragrant trees,
+  And sweeten the soft air. Above us spreads
+  The purple sky, bright with the unseen sun
+  The hills yet screen, although the golden beam
+  Touches the topmost boughs, and tints with light
+  The grey and sparkling crags. The breath of morn
+  Still lingers in the valley; but the bee
+  With restless passion hovers on the wing,
+  Waiting the opening flower, of whose embrace
+  The sun shall be the signal. Poised in air,
+  The winged minstrel of the liquid dawn,
+  The lark, pours forth his lyric, and responds
+  To the fresh chorus of the sylvan doves,
+  The stir of branches and the fall of streams,
+  The harmonies of nature!
+
+  II
+
+    Gentle Spring!
+  Once more, oh, yes! once more I feel thy breath,
+  And charm of renovation! To the sky
+  Thou bringest light, and to the glowing earth
+  A garb of grace: but sweeter than the sky
+  That hath no cloud, and sweeter than the earth
+  With all its pageantry, the peerless boon
+  Thou bearest to me, a temper like thine own;
+  A springlike spirit, beautiful and glad!
+  Long years, long years of suffering, and of thought
+  Deeper than woe, had dimmed the eager eye
+  Once quick to catch thy brightness, and the ear
+  That lingered on thy music, the harsh world
+  Had jarred. The freshness of my life was gone,
+  And hope no more an omen in thy bloom
+  Found of a fertile future! There are minds,
+  Like lands, but with one season, and that drear
+  Mine was eternal winter!
+
+  III.
+
+    A dark dream
+  Of hearts estranged, and of an Eden lost
+  Entranced my being; one absorbing thought
+  Which, if not torture, was a dull despair
+  That agony were light to. But while sad
+  Within the desert of my life I roamed,
+  And no sweet springs of love gushed for to greet
+  My wearied heart, behold two spirits came
+  Floating in light, seraphic ministers,
+  The semblance of whose splendour on me fell
+  As on some dusky stream the matin ray,
+  Touching the gloomy waters with its life.
+  And both were fond, and one was merciful!
+  And to my home long forfeited they bore
+  My vagrant spirit, and the gentle hearth.
+  I reckless fled, received me with its shade
+  And pleasant refuge. And our softened hearts
+  Were like the twilight, when our very bliss
+  Calls tears to soothe our rapture; as the stars
+  Steal forth, then shining smiles their trembling ray
+  Mixed with our tenderness; and love was there
+  In all his manifold forms; the sweet embrace,
+  And thrilling pressure of the gentle hand,
+  And silence speaking with the melting eye!
+
+  IV.
+
+  And now again I feel thy breath, O spring!
+  And now the seal hath fallen from my gaze,
+  And thy wild music in my ready ear
+  Finds a quick echo! The discordant world
+  Mars not thy melodies; thy blossoms now
+  Are emblems of my heart; and through my veins
+  The flow of youthful feeling, long pent up,
+  Glides like thy sunny streams! In this fair scene,
+  On forms still fairer I my blessing pour;
+  On her the beautiful, the wise, the good,
+  Who learnt the sweetest lesson to forgive;
+  And on the bright-eyed daughter of our love,
+  Who soothed a mother, and a father saved!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Between the reconciliation of Lady Annabel Herbert with her husband,
+at the Armenian convent at Venice, and the spring morning in the
+Apennines, which we have just described, half a year had intervened.
+The political position of Marmion Herbert rendered it impossible for
+him to remain in any city where there was a representative of his
+Britannic Majesty. Indeed, it was scarcely safe for him to be known
+out of America. He had quitted that country shortly after the struggle
+was over, chiefly from considerations for his health. His energies had
+been fast failing him; and a retired life and change of climate had
+been recommended by his physicians. His own feelings induced him to
+visit Italy, where he had once intended to pass his life, and where he
+now repaired to await death. Assuming a feigned name, and living in
+strict seclusion, it is probable that his presence would never have
+been discovered; or, if detected, would not have been noticed. Once
+more united with his wife, her personal influence at the court of St.
+James', and her powerful connections, might secure him from annoyance;
+and Venetia had even indulged in a vague hope of returning to England.
+But Herbert could only have found himself again in his native country
+as a prisoner on parole. It would have been quite impossible for him
+to mix in the civil business of his native land, or enjoy any of the
+rights of citizenship. If a mild sovereign in his mercy had indeed
+accorded him a pardon, it must have been accompanied with rigorous and
+mortifying conditions; and his presence, in all probability, would
+have been confined to his country residence and its immediate
+neighbourhood. The pride of Lady Annabel herself recoiled from this
+sufferance; and although Herbert, keenly conscious of the sacrifice
+which a permanent estrangement from England entailed upon his wife and
+child, would have submitted to any restrictions, however humiliating,
+provided they were not inconsistent with his honour, it must be
+confessed that, when he spoke of this painful subject to his wife,
+it was with no slight self-congratulation that he had found her
+resolution to remain abroad under any circumstances was fixed with her
+habitual decision. She communicated both to the Bishop of ---- and to
+her brother the unexpected change that had occurred in her condition,
+and she had reason to believe that a representation of what had
+happened would be made to the Royal family. Perhaps both the head of
+her house and her reverend friend anticipated that time might remove
+the barrier that presented itself to Herbert's immediate return to
+England: they confined their answers, however, to congratulations on
+the reconciliation, to their confidence in the satisfaction it would
+occasion her, and to the expression of their faithful friendship; and
+neither alluded to a result which both, if only for her sake, desired.
+
+The Herberts had quitted Venice a very few days after the meeting on
+the island of St. Lazaro; had travelled by slow journeys, crossing the
+Apennines, to Genoa; and only remained in that city until they engaged
+their present residence. It combined all the advantages which they
+desired: seclusion, beauty, comfort, and the mild atmosphere that
+Venetia had seemed to require. It was not, however, the genial air
+that had recalled the rose to Venetia's cheek and the sunny smile to
+her bright eye, or had inspired again that graceful form with all its
+pristine elasticity. It was a heart content; a spirit at length at
+peace. The contemplation of the happiness of those most dear to her
+that she hourly witnessed, and the blissful consciousness that her
+exertions had mainly contributed to, if not completely occasioned,
+all this felicity, were remedies of far more efficacy than all the
+consultations and prescriptions of her physicians. The conduct of her
+father repaid her for all her sufferings, and realised all her
+dreams of domestic tenderness and delight. Tender, grateful, and
+affectionate, Herbert hovered round her mother like a delicate spirit
+who had been released by some kind mortal from a tedious and revolting
+thraldom, and who believed he could never sufficiently testify his
+devotion. There was so much respect blended with his fondness, that
+the spirit of her mother was utterly subdued by his irresistible
+demeanour. All her sadness and reserve, her distrust and her fear, had
+vanished; and rising confidence mingling with the love she had ever
+borne to him, she taught herself even to seek his opinion, and be
+guided by his advice. She could not refrain, indeed, from occasionally
+feeling, in this full enjoyment of his love, that she might have
+originally acted with too much precipitation; and that, had she only
+bent for a moment to the necessity of conciliation, and condescended
+to the excusable artifices of affection, their misery might have been
+prevented. Once when they were alone, her softened heart would have
+confessed to Herbert this painful conviction, but he was too happy
+and too generous to permit her for a moment to indulge in such a
+remorseful retrospect. All the error, he insisted, was his own; and he
+had been fool enough to have wantonly forfeited a happiness which time
+and experience had now taught him to appreciate.
+
+'We married too young, Marmion,' said his wife.
+
+'It shall be that then, love,' replied Herbert; 'but for all that I
+have suffered. I would not have avoided my fate on the condition of
+losing the exquisite present!'
+
+It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remark, that Herbert avoided with
+the most scrupulous vigilance the slightest allusion to any of those
+peculiar opinions for which he was, unhappily, too celebrated. Musing
+over the singular revolutions which had already occurred in his habits
+and his feelings towards herself, Lady Annabel, indeed, did not
+despair that his once self-sufficient soul might ultimately bow
+to that blessed faith which to herself had ever proved so great a
+support, and so exquisite a solace. It was, indeed, the inexpressible
+hope that lingered at the bottom of her heart; and sometimes she even
+indulged in the delightful fancy that his mild and penitent spirit
+had, by the gracious mercy of Providence, been already touched by the
+bright sunbeam of conviction. At all events, his subdued and chastened
+temperament was no unworthy preparation for still greater blessings.
+It was this hallowed anticipation which consoled, and alone consoled,
+Lady Annabel for her own estrangement from the communion of her
+national church. Of all the sacrifices which her devotion to Herbert
+entailed upon her, this was the one which she felt most constantly
+and most severely. Not a day elapsed but the chapel at Cherbury rose
+before her; and when she remembered that neither herself nor her
+daughter might again kneel round the altar of their God, she almost
+trembled at the step which she had taken, and almost esteemed it
+a sacrifice of heavenly to earthly duty, which no consideration,
+perhaps, warranted. This apprehension, indeed, was the cloud in
+her life, and one which Venetia, who felt all its validity, found
+difficulty in combating.
+
+Otherwise, when Venetia beheld her parents, she felt ethereal,
+and seemed to move in air; for her life, in spite of its apparent
+tranquillity, was to her all excitement. She never looked upon her
+father, or heard his voice, without a thrill. His society was as
+delightful as his heart was tender. It seemed to her that she could
+listen to him for ever. Every word he spoke was different from
+the language of other men; there was not a subject on which his
+richly-cultivated mind could not pour forth instantaneously a flood of
+fine fancies and deep intelligence. He seemed to have read every book
+in every language, and to have mused over every line he had read. She
+could not conceive how one, the tone of whose mind was so original
+that it suggested on every topic some conclusion that struck instantly
+by its racy novelty, could be so saturated with the learning and the
+views of other men. Although they lived in unbroken solitude, and were
+almost always together, not a day passed that she did not find herself
+musing over some thought or expression of her father, and which broke
+from his mind without effort, and as if by chance. Literature to
+Herbert was now only a source of amusement and engaging occupation.
+All thought of fame had long fled his soul. He cared not for being
+disturbed; and he would throw down his Plato for Don Quixote, or close
+his Aeschylus and take up a volume of Madame de Sevigne without a
+murmur, if reminded by anything that occurred of a passage which might
+contribute to the amusement and instruction of his wife and daughter.
+Indeed, his only study now was to contribute to their happiness. For
+him they had given up their country and society, and he sought, by his
+vigilant attention and his various accomplishments, to render their
+hours as light and pleasant as, under such circumstances, was
+possible. His muse, too, was only dedicated to the celebration of any
+topic which their life or themselves suggested. He loved to lie under
+the trees, and pour forth sonnets to Lady Annabel; and encouraged
+Venetia, by the readiness and interest with which he invariably
+complied with her intimations, to throw out every fancy which occurred
+to her for his verse. A life passed without the intrusion of a single
+evil passion, without a single expression that was not soft, and
+graceful, and mild, and adorned with all the resources of a most
+accomplished and creative spirit, required not the distractions
+of society. It would have shrunk from it, from all its artificial
+excitement and vapid reaction. The days of the Herberts flowed on in
+one bright, continuous stream of love, and literature, and gentle
+pleasures. Beneath them was the green earth, above them the blue sky.
+Their spirits were as clear, and their hearts as soft as the clime.
+
+The hour of twilight was approaching, and the family were preparing
+for their daily walk. Their simple repast was finished, and Venetia
+held the verses which her father had written in the morning, and which
+he had presented to her.
+
+'Let us descend to Spezzia,' said Herbert to Lady Annabel; 'I love an
+ocean sunset.'
+
+Accordingly they proceeded through their valley to the craggy path
+which led down to the bay. After passing through a small ravine, the
+magnificent prospect opened before them. The sun was yet an hour above
+the horizon, and the sea was like a lake of molten gold; the colour
+of the sky nearest to the sun, of a pale green, with two or three
+burnished streaks of vapour, quite still, and so thin you could almost
+catch the sky through them, fixed, as it were, in this gorgeous frame.
+It was now a dead calm, but the sail that had been hovering the whole
+morning in the offing had made the harbour in time, and had just
+cast anchor near some coasting craft and fishing-boats, all that now
+remained where Napoleon had projected forming one of the arsenals of
+the world.
+
+Tracing their way down a mild declivity, covered with spreading
+vineyards, and quite fragrant with the blossom of the vine, the
+Herberts proceeded through a wood of olives, and emerged on a terrace
+raised directly above the shore, leading to Spezzia, and studded here
+and there with rugged groups of aloes.
+
+'I have often observed here,' said Venetia, 'about a mile out at sea;
+there, now, where I point; the water rise. It is now a calm, and yet
+it is more troubled, I think, than usual. Tell me the cause, dear
+father, for I have often wished to know.'
+
+'It passes my experience,' said Herbert; 'but here is an ancient
+fisherman; let us inquire of him.'
+
+He was an old man, leaning against a rock, and smoking his pipe in
+contemplative silence; his face bronzed with the sun and the roughness
+of many seasons, and his grey hairs not hidden by his long blue cap.
+Herbert saluted him, and, pointing to the phenomenon, requested an
+explanation of it.
+
+''Tis a fountain of fresh water, signor, that rises in our gulf,' said
+the old fisherman, 'to the height of twenty feet.'
+
+'And is it constant?' inquired Herbert.
+
+''Tis the same in sunshine and in storm, in summer and in winter, in
+calm or in breeze,' said the old fisherman.
+
+'And has it always been so?'
+
+'It came before my time.'
+
+'A philosophic answer,' said Herbert, 'and deserves a paul. Mine was a
+crude question. Adio, good friend.'
+
+'I should like to drink of that fountain of fresh water, Annabel,'
+said Herbert. 'There seems to me something wondrous fanciful in it.
+Some day we will row there. It shall be a calm like this.'
+
+'We want a fountain in our valley,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'We do,' said Herbert; 'and I think we must make one; we must inquire
+at Genoa. I am curious in fountains. Our fountain should, I think, be
+classical; simple, compact, with a choice inscription, the altar of a
+Naiad.'
+
+'And mamma shall make the design, and you shall write the
+inscription,' said Venetia.
+
+'And you shall be the nymph, child,' said Herbert.
+
+They were now within a bowshot of the harbour, and a jutting cliff of
+marble, more graceful from a contiguous bed of myrtles, invited them
+to rest, and watch the approaching sunset.
+
+'Say what they like,' said Herbert, 'there is a spell in the shores
+of the Mediterranean Sea which no others can rival. Never was such a
+union of natural loveliness and magical associations! On these shores
+have risen all that interests us in the past: Egypt and Palestine,
+Greece, Rome, and Carthage, Moorish Spain, and feodal Italy. These
+shores have yielded us our religion, our arts, our literature, and our
+laws. If all that we have gained from the shores of the Mediterranean
+was erased from the memory of man, we should be savages. Will the
+Atlantic ever be so memorable? Its civilisation will be more rapid,
+but will it be as refined? and, far more important, will it be as
+permanent? Will it not lack the racy vigour and the subtle spirit of
+aboriginal genius? Will not a colonial character cling to its society,
+feeble, inanimate, evanescent? What America is deficient in is
+creative intellect. It has no nationality. Its intelligence has been
+imported, like its manufactured goods. Its inhabitants are a people,
+but are they a nation? I wish that the empire of the Incas and the
+kingdom of Montezuma had not been sacrificed. I wish that the republic
+of the Puritans had blended with the tribes of the wilderness.'
+
+The red sun was now hovering over the horizon; it quivered for an
+instant, and then sank. Immediately the high and undulating coast was
+covered with a crimson flush; the cliffs, the groves, the bays and
+jutting promontories, each straggling sail and tall white tower,
+suffused with a rosy light. Gradually that rosy tint became a bright
+violet, and then faded into purple. But the glory of the sunset long
+lingered in the glowing west, streaming with every colour of the Iris,
+while a solitary star glittered with silver light amid the shifting
+splendour.
+
+'Hesperus rises from the sunset like the fountain of fresh water from
+the sea,' said Herbert. 'The sky and the ocean have two natures, like
+ourselves,'
+
+At this moment the boat of the vessel, which had anchored about an
+hour back, put to shore.
+
+'That seems an English brig,' said Herbert. 'I cannot exactly make out
+its trim; it scarcely seems a merchant vessel.'
+
+The projection of the shore hid the boat from their sight as it
+landed. The Herberts rose, and proceeded towards the harbour. There
+were some rude steps cut in the rock which led from the immediate
+shore to the terrace. As they approached these, two gentlemen
+in sailors' jackets mounted suddenly. Lady Annabel and Venetia
+simultaneously started as they recognised Lord Cadurcis and his
+cousin. They were so close that neither party had time to prepare
+themselves. Venetia found her hand in that of Plantagenet, while Lady
+Annabel saluted George. Infinite were their mutual inquiries and
+congratulations, but it so happened that, with one exception, no name
+was mentioned. It was quite evident, however, to Herbert, that these
+were very familiar acquaintances of his family; for, in the surprise
+of the moment, Lord Cadurcis had saluted his daughter by her Christian
+name. There was no slight emotion, too, displayed on all sides.
+Indeed, independently of the agitation which so unexpected a
+rencounter was calculated to produce, the presence of Herbert, after
+the first moments of recognition, not a little excited the curiosity
+of the young men, and in some degree occasioned the embarrassment
+of all. Who was this stranger, on whom Venetia and her mother were
+leaning with such fondness? He was scarcely too old to be the admirer
+of Venetia, and if there were a greater disparity of years between
+them than is usual, his distinguished appearance might well reconcile
+the lady to her lot, or even justify her choice. Had, then, Cadurcis
+again met Venetia only to find her the bride or the betrothed of
+another? a mortifying situation, even an intolerable one, if his
+feelings remained unchanged; and if the eventful year that had elapsed
+since they parted had not replaced her image in his susceptible mind
+by another more cherished, and, perhaps, less obdurate. Again, to Lady
+Annabel the moment was one of great awkwardness, for the introduction
+of her husband to those with whom she was recently so intimate, and
+who were then aware that the name of that husband was never even
+mentioned in her presence, recalled the painful past with a disturbing
+vividness. Venetia, indeed, did not share these feelings fully,
+but she thought it ungracious to anticipate her mother in the
+announcement.
+
+The Herberts turned with Lord Cadurcis and his cousin; they were about
+to retrace their steps on the terrace, when Lady Annabel, taking
+advantage of the momentary silence, and summoning all her energy, with
+a pale cheek and a voice that slightly faltered, said, 'Lord Cadurcis,
+allow me to present you to Mr. Herbert, my husband,' she added with
+emphasis.
+
+'Good God!' exclaimed Cadurcis, starting; and then, outstretching his
+hand, he contrived to add, 'have I, indeed, the pleasure of seeing one
+I have so long admired?'
+
+'Lord Cadurcis!' exclaimed Herbert, scarcely less surprised. 'Is it
+Lord Cadurcis? This is a welcome meeting.'
+
+Everyone present felt overwhelmed with confusion or astonishment; Lady
+Annabel sought refuge in presenting Captain Cadurcis to her husband.
+This ceremony, though little noticed even by those more immediately
+interested in it, nevertheless served, in some degree, as a diversion.
+Herbert, who was only astonished, was the first who rallied. Perhaps
+Lord Cadurcis was the only man in existence whom Herbert wished to
+know. He had read his works with deep interest; at least, those
+portions which foreign journals had afforded him. He was deeply
+impressed with his fame and genius; but what perplexed him at this
+moment, even more than his unexpected introduction to him, was the
+singular, the very extraordinary circumstance, that the name of their
+most celebrated countryman should never have escaped the lips either
+of his wife or his daughter, although they appeared, and Venetia
+especially, to be on terms with him of even domestic intimacy.
+
+'You arrived here to day, Lord Cadurcis?' said Herbert. 'From whence?'
+
+'Immediately from Naples, where we last touched,' replied his
+lordship; 'but I have been residing at Athens.'
+
+'I envy you,' said Herbert.
+
+'It would be a fit residence for you,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'You were,
+however, in some degree, my companion, for a volume of your poems was
+one of the few books I had with me. I parted with all the rest, but I
+retained that. It is in my cabin, and full of my scribblement. If you
+would condescend to accept it, I would offer it to you.'
+
+Mr. Herbert and Lord Cadurcis maintained the conversation along the
+terrace. Venetia, by whose side her old companion walked, was quite
+silent. Once her eyes met those of Cadurcis; his expression of mingled
+archness and astonishment was irresistible. His cousin and Lady
+Annabel carried on a more suppressed conversation, but on ordinary
+topics. When they had reached the olive-grove Herbert said, 'Here lies
+our way homeward, my lord. If you and your cousin will accompany us,
+it will delight Lady Annabel and myself.'
+
+'Nothing, I am sure, will give George and myself greater pleasure,' he
+replied. 'We had, indeed, no purpose when you met us but to enjoy our
+escape from imprisonment, little dreaming we should meet our kindest
+and oldest friends,' he added.
+
+'Kindest and oldest friends!' thought Herbert to himself. 'Well, this
+is strange indeed.'
+
+'It is but a slight distance,' said Lady Annabel, who thought it
+necessary to enforce the invitation. 'We live in the valley, of which
+yonder hill forms a part.'
+
+'And there we have passed our winter and our spring,' added Venetia,
+'almost as delightfully as you could have done at Athens.'
+
+'Well,' thought Cadurcis to himself, 'I have seen many of the world's
+marvels, but this day is a miracle.'
+
+When they had proceeded through the olive-wood, and mounted the
+acclivity, they arrived at a path which permitted the ascent of only
+one person at a time. Cadurcis was last, and followed Venetia. Unable
+any longer to endure the suspense, he was rather irritated that she
+kept so close to her father; he himself loitered a few paces behind,
+and, breaking off a branch of laurel, he tossed it at her. She looked
+round and smiled; he beckoned to her to fall back. 'Tell me, Venetia,'
+he said, 'what does all this mean?'
+
+'It means that we are at last all very happy,' she replied. 'Do you
+not see my father?'
+
+'Yes; and I am very glad to see him; but this company is the very last
+in which I expected to have that pleasure.'
+
+'It is too long a story to tell now; you must imagine it.'
+
+'But are you glad to see me?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'I don't think you care for me the least.'
+
+'Silly Lord Cadurcis!' she said, smiling.
+
+'If you call me Lord Cadurcis, I shall immediately go back to the
+brig, and set sail this night for Athens.'
+
+'Well then, silly Plantagenet!'
+
+He laughed, and they ran on.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, I am not surprised that you should have passed your time
+delightfully here,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady Annabel, when they had
+entered the villa; 'for I never beheld so delightful a retreat. It is
+even more exquisite than your villa on the lake, of which George gave
+me so glowing a description. I was almost tempted to hasten to you.
+Would you have smiled on me!' he added, rather archly, and in a
+coaxing tone.
+
+'I am more gratified that we have met here,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And thus,' added Cadurcis.
+
+'You have been a great traveller since we last met?' said Lady
+Annabel, a little embarrassed.
+
+'My days of restlessness are over,' said Cadurcis. 'I desire nothing
+more dearly than to settle down in the bosom of these green hills as
+you have done.'
+
+'This life suits Mr. Herbert,' said Lady Annabel. 'He is fond of
+seclusion, and you know I am accustomed to it.'
+
+'Ah! yes,' said Cadurcis, mournfully. 'When I was in Greece, I used
+often to wish that none of us had ever left dear Cherbury; but I do
+not now.'
+
+'We must forget Cherbury,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I cannot: I cannot forget her who cherished my melancholy childhood.
+Dear Lady Annabel,' he added in a voice of emotion, and offering her
+his hand, 'forget all my follies, and remember that I was your child,
+once as dutiful as you were affectionate.'
+
+Who could resist this appeal? Lady Annabel, not without agitation,
+yielded him her hand, which he pressed to his lips. 'Now I am again
+happy,' said Cadurcis; 'now we are all happy. Sweetest of friends, you
+have removed in a moment the bitterness of years.'
+
+Although lights were in the saloon, the windows opening on the portico
+were not closed. The evening air was soft and balmy, and though the
+moon had not risen, the distant hills were clear in the starlight.
+Venetia was standing in the portico conversing with George Cadurcis.
+
+'I suppose you are too much of a Turk to drink our coffee, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. Cadurcis turned and joined him, together with
+Lady Annabel.
+
+'Nay,' said Lord Cadurcis, in a joyous tone, 'Lady Annabel will answer
+for me that I always find everything perfect under her roof.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis and Venetia now re-entered the villa; they clustered
+round the table, and seated themselves.
+
+'Why, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, 'George met me in Sicily and quite
+frightened me about you. Is it the air of the Apennines that has
+worked these marvels? for, really, you appear to me exactly the same
+as when we learnt the French vocabulary together ten years ago.'
+
+'"The French vocabulary together, ten years ago!"' thought Herbert;
+'not a mere London acquaintance, then. This is very strange.'
+
+'Why, indeed, Plantagenet,' replied Venetia, 'I was very unwell when
+George visited us; but I really have quite forgotten that I ever was
+an invalid, and I never mean to be again.'
+
+'"Plantagenet!"' soliloquised Herbert. 'And this is the great poet
+of whom I have heard so much! My daughter is tolerably familiar with
+him.'
+
+'I have brought you all sorts of buffooneries from Stamboul,'
+continued Cadurcis; 'sweetmeats, and slippers, and shawls, and daggers
+worn only by sultanas, and with which, if necessary, they can keep
+"the harem's lord" in order. I meant to have sent them with George to
+England, for really I did not anticipate our meeting here.'
+
+'"Sweetmeats and slippers,"' said Herbert to himself, '"shawls and
+daggers!" What next?'
+
+'And has George been with you all the time?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Oh! we quarrelled now and then, of course. He found Athens dull, and
+would stay at Constantinople, chained by the charms of a fair Perote,
+to whom he wanted me to write sonnets in his name. I would not,
+because I thought it immoral. But, on the whole, we got on very well;
+a sort of Pylades and Orestes, I assure you; we never absolutely
+fought.'
+
+'Come, come,' said George, 'Cadurcis is always ashamed of being
+amiable. We were together much more than I ever intended or
+anticipated. You know mine was a sporting tour; and therefore, of
+course, we were sometimes separated. But he was exceedingly popular
+with all parties, especially the Turks, whom he rewarded for their
+courtesy by writing odes to the Greeks to stir them up to revolt.'
+
+'Well, they never read them,' said Cadurcis. 'All we, poor fellows,
+can do,' he added, turning to Herbert, 'is to wake the Hellenistic
+raptures of May Fair; and that they call fame; as much like fame as a
+toadstool is like a truffle.'
+
+'Nevertheless, I hope the muse has not slumbered,' said Herbert; 'for
+you have had the happiest inspiration in the climes in which you have
+resided; not only are they essentially poetic, but they offer a virgin
+vein.'
+
+'I have written a little,' replied Cadurcis; 'I will give it you, if
+you like, some day to turn over. Yours is the only opinion that I
+really care for. I have no great idea of the poetry; but I am very
+strong in my costume. I feel very confident about that. I fancy I know
+how to hit off a pasha, or touch in a Greek pirate now. As for all the
+things I wrote in England, I really am ashamed of them. I got up my
+orientalism from books, and sultans and sultanas at masquerades,' he
+added, archly. 'I remember I made my heroines always wear turbans;
+only conceive my horror when I found that a Turkish woman would as
+soon think of putting my hat on as a turban, and that it was an
+article of dress entirely confined to a Bond Street milliner.'
+
+The evening passed in interesting and diverting conversation; of
+course, principally contributed by the two travellers, who had seen so
+much. Inspirited by his interview with Lady Annabel, and her gracious
+reception of his overtures, Lord Cadurcis was in one of those frolic
+humours, which we have before noticed was not unnatural to him. He had
+considerable powers of mimicry, and the talent that had pictured to
+Venetia in old days, with such liveliness, the habits of the old maids
+of Morpeth, was now engaged on more considerable topics; an interview
+with a pasha, a peep into a harem, a visit to a pirate's isle, the
+slave-market, the bazaar, the barracks of the janissaries, all touched
+with irresistible vitality, and coloured with the rich phrases of
+unrivalled force of expression. The laughter was loud and continual;
+even Lady Annabel joined zealously in the glee. As for Herbert, he
+thought Cadurcis by far the most hearty and amusing person he had ever
+known, and could not refrain from contrasting him with the picture
+which his works and the report of the world had occasionally enabled
+him to sketch to his mind's eye; the noble, young, and impassioned
+bard, pouring forth the eloquent tide of his morbid feelings to an
+idolising world, from whose applause he nevertheless turned with an
+almost misanthropic melancholy.
+
+It was now much past the noon of night, and the hour of separation,
+long postponed, was inevitable. Often had Cadurcis risen to depart,
+and often, without regaining his seat, had he been tempted by his
+friends, and especially Venetia, into fresh narratives. At last he
+said, 'Now we must go. Lady Annabel looks good night. I remember the
+look,' he said, laughing, 'when we used to beg for a quarter of an
+hour more. O Venetia! do not you remember that Christmas when dear
+old Masham read Julius Caesar, and we were to sit up until it was
+finished. When he got to the last act I hid his spectacles. I never
+confessed it until this moment. Will you pardon me, Lady Annabel?' and
+he pressed his hands together in a mockery of supplication.
+
+'Will you come and breakfast with us to-morrow?' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'With delight,' he answered. 'I am used, you know, to walks before
+breakfast. George, I do not think George can do it, though. George
+likes his comforts; he is a regular John Bull. He was always calling
+for tea when we were in Turkey!'
+
+At this moment Mistress Pauncefort entered the room, ostensibly on
+some little affair of her mistress, but really to reconnoitre.
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort; my old friend, Mistress Pauncefort, how do
+you do?' exclaimed his lordship.
+
+'Quite well, my lord, please your lordship; and very glad to see your
+lordship again, and looking so well too.'
+
+'Ah! Mistress Pauncefort, you always flattered me!'
+
+'Oh! dear, my lord, your lordship, no,' said Mistress Pauncefort, with
+a simper.
+
+'But you, Pauncefort,' said Cadurcis, 'why there must be some magic in
+the air here. I have been complimenting your lady and Miss Venetia;
+but really, you, I should almost have thought it was some younger
+sister.'
+
+'Oh! my lord, you have such a way,' said Mistress Pauncefort,
+retreating with a slow step that still lingered for a remark.
+
+'Pauncefort, is that an Italian cap?' said Lord Cadurcis; 'you know,
+Pauncefort, you were always famous for your caps.'
+
+Mistress Pauncefort disappeared in a fluster of delight.
+
+And now they had indeed departed. There was a pause of complete
+silence after they had disappeared, the slight and not painful
+reaction after the mirthful excitement of the last few hours. At
+length Herbert, dropping, as was his evening custom, a few drops of
+orange-flower into a tumbler of water, said, 'Annabel, my love, I am
+rather surprised that neither you nor Venetia should have mentioned to
+me that you knew, and knew so intimately, a man like Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+Lady Annabel appeared a little confused; she looked even at Venetia,
+but Venetia's eyes were on the ground. At length she said, 'In truth,
+Marmion, since we met we have thought only of you.'
+
+'Cadurcis Abbey, papa, is close to Cherbury,' said Venetia.
+
+'Cherbury!' said Herbert, with a faint blush. 'I have never seen it,
+and now I shall never see it. No matter, my country is your mother and
+yourself. Some find a home in their country, I find a country in my
+home. Well,' he added, in a gayer tone, 'it has gratified me much to
+meet Lord Cadurcis. We were happy before, but now we are even gay.
+I like to see you smile, Annabel, and hear Venetia laugh. I feel,
+myself, quite an unusual hilarity. Cadurcis! It is very strange how
+often I have mused over that name. A year ago it was one of my few
+wishes to know him; my wishes, then, dear Annabel, were not very
+ambitious. They did not mount so high as you have since permitted
+them. And now I do know him, and under what circumstances! Is not life
+strange? But is it not happy? I feel it so. Good night, sweet wife;
+my darling daughter, a happy, happy night!' He embraced them ere
+they retired; and opening a volume composed his mind after the novel
+excitement of the evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Cadurcis left the brig early in the morning alone, and strolled
+towards the villa. He met Herbert half-way to Spezzia, who turned back
+with him towards home. They sat down on a crag opposite the sea; there
+was a light breeze, the fishing boats wore out, and the view was as
+animated as the fresh air was cheering.
+
+'There they go,' said Cadurcis, smiling, 'catching John Dory, as you
+and I try to catch John Bull. Now if these people could understand
+what two great men were watching them, how they would stare! But they
+don't care a sprat for us, not they! They are not part of the world
+the three or four thousand civilised savages for whom we sweat our
+brains, and whose fetid breath perfumed with musk is fame. Pah!'
+
+Herbert smiled. 'I have not cared much myself for this same world.'
+
+'Why, no; you have done something, and shown your contempt for them.
+No one can deny that. I will some day, if I have an opportunity. I owe
+it them; I think I can show them a trick or two still.[A] I have got a
+Damascus blade in store for their thick hides. I will turn their flank
+yet.'
+
+[Footnote A: I think I know a trick or two would turn Your flanks.
+_Don Juan_.]
+
+'And gain a victory where conquest brings no glory. You are worth
+brighter laurels, Lord Cadurcis.'
+
+'Now is not it the most wonderful thing in the world that you and I
+have met?' said Cadurcis. 'Now I look upon ourselves as something
+like, eh! Fellows with some pith in them. By Jove, if we only joined
+together, how we could lay it on! Crack, crack, crack; I think I see
+them wincing under the thong, the pompous poltroons! If you only knew
+how they behaved to me! By Jove, sir, they hooted me going to the
+House of Lords, and nearly pulled me off my horse. The ruffians would
+have massacred me if they could; and then they all ran away from a
+drummer-boy and a couple of grenadiers, who were going the rounds to
+change guard. Was not that good? Fine, eh? A brutish mob in a fit of
+morality about to immolate a gentleman, and then scampering off from a
+sentry. I call that human nature!'
+
+'As long as they leave us alone, and do not burn us alive, I am
+content,' said Herbert. 'I am callous to what they say.'
+
+'So am I,' said Cadurcis. 'I made out a list the other day of all
+the persons and things I have been compared to. It begins well, with
+Alcibiades, but it ends with the Swiss giantess or the Polish dwarf, I
+forget which. Here is your book. You see it has been well thumbed. In
+fact, to tell the truth, it was my cribbing book, and I always kept
+it by me when I was writing at Athens, like a gradus, a _gradus ad
+Parnassum_, you know. But although I crib, I am candid, and you see I
+fairly own it to you.'
+
+'You are welcome to all I have ever written,' said Herbert. 'Mine were
+but crude dreams. I wished to see man noble and happy; but if he will
+persist in being vile and miserable, I must even be content. I can
+struggle for him no more.'
+
+'Well, you opened my mind,' said Cadurcis. 'I owe you everything;
+but I quite agree with you that nothing is worth an effort. As for
+philosophy and freedom, and all that, they tell devilish well in a
+stanza; but men have always been fools and slaves, and fools and
+slaves they always will be.'
+
+'Nay,' said Herbert, 'I will not believe that. I will not give up
+a jot of my conviction of a great and glorious future for human
+destinies; but its consummation will not be so rapid as I once
+thought, and in the meantime I die.'
+
+'Ah, death!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that is a botherer. What can you
+make of death? There are those poor fishermen now; there will be a
+white squall some day, and they will go down with those lateen sails
+of theirs, and be food for the very prey they were going to catch; and
+if you continue living here, you may eat one of your neighbours in
+the shape of a shoal of red mullets, when it is the season. The great
+secret, we cannot penetrate that with all our philosophy, my dear
+Herbert. "All that we know is, nothing can be known." Barren, barren,
+barren! And yet what a grand world it is! Look at this bay, these blue
+waters, the mountains, and these chestnuts, devilish fine! The fact
+is, truth is veiled, but, like the Shekinah over the tabernacle, the
+veil is of dazzling light!'
+
+'Life is the great wonder,' said Herbert, 'into which all that is
+strange and startling resolves itself. The mist of familiarity
+obscures from us the miracle of our being. Mankind are constantly
+starting at events which they consider extraordinary. But a
+philosopher acknowledges only one miracle, and that is life. Political
+revolutions, changes of empire, wrecks of dynasties and the opinions
+that support them, these are the marvels of the vulgar, but these are
+only transient modifications of life. The origin of existence is,
+therefore, the first object which a true philosopher proposes to
+himself. Unable to discover it, he accepts certain results from
+his unbiassed observation of its obvious nature, and on them he
+establishes certain principles to be our guides in all social
+relations, whether they take the shape of laws or customs.
+Nevertheless, until the principle of life be discovered, all theories
+and all systems of conduct founded on theory must be considered
+provisional.'
+
+'And do you believe that there is a chance of its being discovered?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'I cannot, from any reason in my own intelligence, find why it should
+not,' said Herbert.
+
+'You conceive it possible that a man may attain earthly immortality?'
+inquired Cadurcis.
+
+'Undoubtedly.'
+
+'By Jove,' said Cadurcis, 'if I only knew how, I would purchase an
+immense annuity directly.'
+
+'When I said undoubtedly,' said Herbert, smiling, 'I meant only to
+express that I know no invincible reason to the contrary. I see
+nothing inconsistent with the existence of a Supreme Creator in the
+annihilation of death. It appears to me an achievement worthy of his
+omnipotence. I believe in the possibility, but I believe in nothing
+more. I anticipate the final result, but not by individual means. It
+will, of course, be produced by some vast and silent and continuous
+operation of nature, gradually effecting some profound and
+comprehensive alteration in her order, a change of climate, for
+instance, the great enemy of life, so that the inhabitants of the
+earth may attain a patriarchal age. This renovated breed may in turn
+produce a still more vigorous offspring, and so we may ascend the
+scale, from the threescore and ten of the Psalmist to the immortality
+of which we speak. Indeed I, for my own part, believe the operation
+has already commenced, although thousands of centuries may elapse
+before it is consummated; the threescore and ten of the Psalmist is
+already obsolete; the whole world is talking of the general change of
+its seasons and its atmosphere. If the origin of America were such as
+many profound philosophers suppose, viz., a sudden emersion of a new
+continent from the waves, it is impossible to doubt that such an event
+must have had a very great influence on the climate of the world.
+Besides, why should we be surprised that the nature of man should
+change? Does not everything change? Is not change the law of nature?
+My skin changes every year, my hair never belongs to me a month, the
+nail on my hand is only a passing possession. I doubt whether a man at
+fifty is the same material being that he is at five-and-twenty.'
+
+'I wonder,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'if a creditor brought an action
+against you at fifty for goods delivered at five-and-twenty, one
+could set up the want of identity as a plea in bar. It would be a
+consolation to an elderly gentleman.'
+
+'I am afraid mankind are too hostile to philosophy,' said Herbert,
+smiling, 'to permit so desirable a consummation.'
+
+'Should you consider a long life a blessing?' said Cadurcis. 'Would
+you like, for instance, to live to the age of Methusalem?'
+
+'Those whom the gods love die young,' said Herbert. 'For the last
+twenty years I have wished to die, and I have sought death. But my
+feelings, I confess, on that head are at present very much modified.'
+
+'Youth, glittering youth!' said Cadurcis in a musing tone; 'I remember
+when the prospect of losing my youth frightened me out of my wits;
+I dreamt of nothing but grey hairs, a paunch, and the gout or the
+gravel. But I fancy every period of life has its pleasures, and as we
+advance in life the exercise of power and the possession of wealth
+must be great consolations to the majority; we bully our children and
+hoard our cash.'
+
+'Two most noble occupations!' said Herbert; 'but I think in this world
+there is just as good a chance of being bullied by our children first,
+and paying their debts afterwards.'
+
+'Faith! you are right,' said Cadurcis, laughing, 'and lucky is he who
+has neither creditors nor offspring, and who owes neither money nor
+affection, after all the most difficult to pay of the two.'
+
+'It cannot be commanded, certainly,' said Herbert 'There is no usury
+for love.'
+
+'And yet it is very expensive, too, sometimes, said Cadurcis,
+laughing. 'For my part, sympathy is a puzzler.'
+
+'You should read Cabanis,' said Herbert, 'if indeed, you have not.
+I think I may find it here; I will lend it you. It has, from its
+subject, many errors, but it is very suggestive.'
+
+'Now, that is kind, for I have not a book here, and, after all, there
+is nothing like reading. I wish I had read more, but it is not too
+late. I envy you your learning, besides so many other things. However,
+I hope we shall not part in a hurry; we have met at last,' he said,
+extending his hand, 'and we were always friends.'
+
+Herbert shook his hand very warmly. 'I can assure you, Lord Cadurcis,
+you have not a more sincere admirer of your genius. I am happy in your
+society. For myself, I now aspire to be nothing better than an idler
+in life, turning over a page, and sometimes noting down a fancy. You
+have, it appears, known my family long and intimately, and you were,
+doubtless, surprised at finding me with them. I have returned to
+my hearth, and I am content. Once I sacrificed my happiness to my
+philosophy, and now I have sacrificed my philosophy to my happiness.'
+
+'Dear friend!' said Cadurcis, putting his arm affectionately in
+Herbert's as they walked along, 'for, indeed, you must allow me to
+style you so; all the happiness and all the sorrow of my life alike
+flow from your roof!'
+
+In the meantime Lady Annabel and Venetia came forth from the villa to
+their morning meal in their amphitheatre of hills. Marmion was not
+there to greet them as usual.
+
+'Was not Plantagenet amusing last night?' said Venetia; 'and are not
+you happy, dear mother, to see him once more?'
+
+'Indeed I am now always happy,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'And George was telling me last night, in this portico, of all their
+life. He is more attached to Plantagenet than ever. He says it is
+impossible for any one to have behaved with greater kindness, or to
+have led, in every sense, a more calm and rational life. When he was
+alone at Athens, he did nothing but write. George says that all his
+former works are nothing to what he has written now.'
+
+'He is very engaging,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'I think he will be such a delightful companion for papa. I am sure
+papa must like him. I hope he will stay some time; for, after all,
+poor dear papa, he must require a little amusement besides our
+society. Instead of being with his books, he might be walking and
+talking with Plantagenet. I think, dearest mother, we shall be happier
+than ever!'
+
+At this moment Herbert, with Cadurcis leaning on his arm, and
+apparently speaking with great earnestness, appeared in the distance.
+'There they are,' said Venetia; 'I knew they would be friends. Come,
+dearest mother, let us meet them.'
+
+'You see, Lady Annabel,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'it is just as I said:
+Mr. George is not here; he is having tea and toast on board the brig.'
+
+'I do not believe it,' said Venetia, smiling.
+
+They seated themselves at the breakfast-table.
+
+'You should have seen our Apennine breakfasts in the autumn, Lord
+Cadurcis,' said Herbert. 'Every fruit of nature seemed crowded before
+us. It was indeed a meal for a poet or a painter like Paul Veronese;
+our grapes, our figs, our peaches, our mountain strawberries, they
+made a glowing picture. For my part, I have an original prejudice
+against animal food which I have never quite overcome, and I believe
+it is only to please Lady Annabel that I have relapsed into the heresy
+of cutlets.'
+
+'Do you think I have grown fatter, Lady Annabel?' said Lord Cadurcis,
+starting up; 'I brought myself down at Athens to bread and olives, but
+I have been committing terrible excesses lately, but only fish.'
+
+'Ah! here is George!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+And Captain Cadurcis appeared, followed by a couple of sailors,
+bearing a huge case.
+
+'George,' said Venetia, 'I have been defending you against
+Plantagenet; he said you would not come.'
+
+'Never mind, George, it was only behind your back,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and, under those legitimate circumstances, why even our
+best friends cannot expect us to spare them.'
+
+'I have brought Venetia her toys,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'and she was
+right to defend me, as I have been working for her.'
+
+The top of the case was knocked off, and all the Turkish buffooneries,
+as Cadurcis called them, made their appearance: slippers, and shawls,
+and bottles of perfumes, and little hand mirrors, beautifully
+embroidered; and fanciful daggers, and rosaries, and a thousand other
+articles, of which they had plundered the bazaars of Constantinople.
+
+'And here is a Turkish volume of poetry, beautifully illuminated; and
+that is for you,' said Cadurcis giving it to Herbert. 'Perhaps it is a
+translation of one of our works. Who knows? We can always say it is.'
+
+'This is the second present you have made me this morning. Here is a
+volume of my works,' said Herbert, producing the book that Cadurcis
+had before given him. 'I never expected that anything I wrote would be
+so honoured. This, too, is the work of which I am the least ashamed
+for my wife admired it. There, Annabel, even though Lord Cadurcis is
+here, I will present it to you; 'tis an old friend.'
+
+Lady Annabel accepted the book very graciously, and, in spite of all
+the temptations of her toys, Venetia could not refrain from peeping
+over her mother's shoulder at its contents. 'Mother,' she whispered,
+in a voice inaudible save to Lady Annabel, 'I may read this!'
+
+Lady Annabel gave it her.
+
+'And now we must send for Pauncefort, I think,' said Lady Annabel, 'to
+collect and take care of our treasures.'
+
+'Pauncefort,' said Lord Cadurcis, when that gentlewoman appeared, 'I
+have brought you a shawl, but I could not bring you a turban, because
+the Turkish ladies do not wear turbans; but if I had thought we should
+have met so soon, I would have had one made on purpose for you.'
+
+'La! my lord, you always are so polite!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+When the breakfast was over, they wandered about the valley, which
+Cadurcis could not sufficiently admire. Insensibly he drew Venetia
+from the rest of the party, on the pretence of showing her a view at
+some little distance. They walked along by the side of a rivulet,
+which glided through the hills, until they were nearly a mile from the
+villa, though still in sight.
+
+'Venetia,' he at length said, turning the conversation to a more
+interesting topic, 'your father and myself have disburthened our minds
+to each, other this morning; I think we know each other now as well as
+if we were as old acquaintances as myself and his daughter.'
+
+'Ah! I knew that you and papa must agree,' said Venetia; 'I was saying
+so this morning to my mother.'
+
+'Venetia,' said Cadurcis, with a laughing eye, 'all this is very
+strange, is it not?'
+
+'Very strange, indeed, Plantagenet; I should not be surprised if it
+appeared to you as yet even incredible.'
+
+'It is miraculous,' said Cadurcis, 'but not incredible; an angel
+interfered, and worked the miracle. I know all.'
+
+Venetia looked at him with a faint flush upon her cheek; she gathered
+a flower and plucked it to pieces.
+
+'What a singular destiny ours has been, Venetia! 'said Cadurcis. 'Do
+you know, I can sit for an hour together and muse over it.'
+
+'Can you, Plantagenet?'
+
+'I have such an extraordinary memory; I do not think I ever forgot
+anything. We have had some remarkable conversations in our time,
+eh, Venetia? Do you remember my visit to Cherbury before I went to
+Cambridge, and the last time I saw you before I left England? And now
+it all ends in this! What do you think of it, Venetia?'
+
+'Think of what, Plantagenet?'
+
+'Why, of this reconciliation?'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet, what can I think of it but what I have expressed,
+that it is a wonderful event, but the happiest in my life.'
+
+'You are quite happy now?'
+
+'Quite.'
+
+'I see you do not care for me the least.'
+
+'Plantagenet, you are perverse. Are you not here?'
+
+'Did you ever think of me when I was away?'
+
+'You know very well, Plantagenet, that it is impossible for me to
+cease to be interested in you. Could I refrain from thinking of such a
+friend?'
+
+'Friend! poh! I am not your friend; and, as for that, you never once
+mentioned my name to your father, Miss Venetia.'
+
+'You might easily conceive that there were reasons for such silence,'
+said Venetia. 'It could not arise on my part from forgetfulness or
+indifference; for, even if my feelings were changed towards you, you
+are not a person that one would, or even could, avoid speaking of,
+especially to papa, who must have felt such interest in you! I am
+sure, even if I had not known you, there were a thousand occasions
+which would have called your name to my lips, had they been
+uncontrolled by other considerations.'
+
+'Come, Venetia, I am not going to submit to compliments from you,'
+said Lord Cadurcis; 'no blarney. I wish you only to think of me as
+you did ten years ago. I will not have our hearts polluted by the
+vulgarity of fame. I want you to feel for me as you did when we were
+children. I will not be an object of interest, and admiration, and
+fiddlestick to you; I will not submit to it.'
+
+'Well, you shall not,' said Venetia, laughing. 'I will not admire you
+the least; I will only think of you as a good little boy.'
+
+'You do not love me any longer, I see that,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'Yes I do, Plantagenet.'
+
+'You do not love me so much as you did the night before I went to
+Eton, and we sat over the fire? Ah! how often I have thought of that
+night when I was at Athens!' he added in a tone of emotion.
+
+'Dear Plantagenet,' said Venetia, 'do not be silly. I am in the
+highest spirits in the world; I am quite gay with happiness, and all
+because you have returned. Do not spoil my pleasure.'
+
+'Ah, Venetia! I see how it is; you have forgotten me, or worse than
+forgotten me.'
+
+'Well, I am sure I do not know what to say to satisfy you,' said
+Venetia. 'I think you very unreasonable, and very ungrateful too, for
+I have always been your friend, Plantagenet, and I am sure you know
+it. You sent me a message before you went abroad.'
+
+'Darling!' said Lord Cadurcis, seizing her hand, 'I am not ungrateful,
+I am not unreasonable. I adore you. You were very kind then, when all
+the world was against me. You shall see how I will pay them off, the
+dogs! and worse than dogs, their betters far; dogs are faithful. Do
+you remember poor old Marmion? How we were mystified, Venetia! Little
+did we think then who was Marmion's godfather.'
+
+Venetia smiled; but she said, 'I do not like this bitterness of yours,
+Plantagenet. You have no cause to complain of the world, and you
+magnify a petty squabble with a contemptible coterie into a quarrel
+with a nation. It is not a wise humour, and, if you indulge it, it
+will not be a happy one.'
+
+'I will do exactly what you wish on every subject, said Cadurcis, 'if
+you will do exactly what I wish on one.'
+
+'Well!' said Venetia.
+
+'Once you told me,' said Cadurcis, 'that you would not marry me
+without the consent of your father; then, most unfairly, you added to
+your conditions the consent of your mother. Now both your parents are
+very opportunely at hand; let us fall down upon our knees, and beg
+their blessing.'
+
+'O! my dear Plantagenet, I think it will be much better for me never
+to marry. We are both happy now; let us remain so. You can live here,
+and I can be your sister. Will not that do?'
+
+'No, Venetia, it will not.'
+
+'Dear Plantagenet!' said Venetia with a faltering voice, 'if you knew
+how much I had suffered, dear Plantagenet!'
+
+'I know it; I know all,' said Cadurcis, taking her arm and placing it
+tenderly in his. 'Now listen to me, sweet girl; I loved you when a
+child, when I was unknown to the world, and unknown to myself; I loved
+you as a youth not utterly inexperienced in the world, and when my
+rising passions had taught me to speculate on the character of women;
+I loved you as a man, Venetia, with that world at my feet, that
+world which I scorn, but which I will command; I have been constant,
+Venetia; your heart assures you, of that. You are the only being in
+existence who exercises over me any influence; and the influence you
+possess is irresistible and eternal. It springs from some deep and
+mysterious sympathy of blood which I cannot penetrate. It can neither
+be increased nor diminished by time. It is entirely independent of
+its action. I pretend not to love you more at this moment than when
+I first saw you, when you entered the terrace-room at Cherbury and
+touched my cheek. From that moment I was yours. I declare to you, most
+solemnly I declare to you, that I know not what love is except to you.
+The world has called me a libertine; the truth is, no other woman can
+command my spirit for an hour. I see through them at a glance. I read
+all their weakness, frivolity, vanity, affectation, as if they were
+touched by the revealing rod of Asmodeus. You were born to be my
+bride. Unite yourself with me, control my destiny, and my course shall
+be like the sun of yesterday; but reject me, reject me, and I devote
+all my energies to the infernal gods; I will pour my lava over the
+earth until all that remains of my fatal and exhausted nature is a
+black and barren cone surrounded by bitter desolation.'
+
+'Plantagenet; be calm!'
+
+'I am perfectly calm, Venetia. You talk to me of your sufferings.
+What has occasioned them? A struggle against nature. Nature has now
+triumphed, and you are happy. What necessity was there for all this
+misery that has fallen on your house? Why is your father an exile? Do
+not you think that if your mother had chosen to exert her influence
+she might have prevented the most fatal part of his career?
+Undoubtedly despair impelled his actions as much as philosophy, though
+I give him credit for a pure and lofty spirit, to no man more. But not
+a murmur against your mother from me. She received my overtures of
+reconciliation last night with more than cordiality. She is your
+mother, Venetia, and she once was mine. Indeed, I love her; indeed,
+you would find that I would study her happiness. For after all, sweet,
+is there another woman in existence better qualified to fill the
+position of my mother-in-law? I could not behave unkindly to her; I
+could not treat her with neglect or harshness; not merely for the
+sake of her many admirable qualities, but from other considerations,
+Venetia, considerations we never can forget. By heavens! I love your
+mother; I do, indeed, Venetia! I remember so many things; her last
+words to me when I went to Eton. If she would only behave kindly
+to me, you would see what a son-in-law I should make. You would be
+jealous, that you should, Venetia. I can bear anything from you,
+Venetia, but, with others, I cannot forget who I am. It makes me
+bitter to be treated as Lady Annabel treated me last year in London:
+but a smile and a kind word and I recall all her maternal love; I do
+indeed, Venetia; last night when she was kind I could have kissed
+her!'
+
+Poor Venetia could not answer, her tears were flowing so plenteously.
+'I have told your father all, sweetest,' said Cadurcis; 'I concealed
+nothing.'
+
+'And what said he?' murmured Venetia.
+
+'It rests with your mother. After all that has passed, he will
+not attempt to control your fate. And he is right. Perhaps his
+interference in my favour might even injure me. But there is no cause
+for despair; all I wanted was to come to an understanding with you; to
+be sure you loved me as you always have done. I will not be impatient.
+I will do everything to soothe and conciliate and gratify Lady
+Annabel; you will see how I will behave! As you say, too, we are happy
+because we are together; and, therefore, it would be unreasonable not
+to be patient. I never can be sufficiently grateful for this meeting.
+I concluded you would be in England, though we were on our way to
+Milan to inquire after you. George has been a great comfort to me in
+all this affair, Venetia; he loves you, Venetia, almost as much as
+I do. I think I should have gone mad during that cursed affair in
+England, had it not been for George. I thought you would hate me; but,
+when George brought me your message, I cared for nothing; and then his
+visit to the lake was so devilish kind! He is a noble fellow and a
+true friend. My sweet, sweet Venetia, dry your eyes. Let us rejoin
+them with a smile. We have not been long away, I will pretend we have
+been violet hunting,' said Cadurcis, stooping down and plucking up a
+handful of flowers. 'Do you remember our violets at home, Venetia?
+Do you know, Venetia, I always fancy every human being is like some
+object in nature; and you always put me in mind of a violet so fresh
+and sweet and delicate!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+'We have been exploring the happy valley,' said Lord Cadurcis to Lady
+Annabel, 'and here is our plunder,' and he gave her the violets.
+
+'You were always fond of flowers,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Yes, I imbibed the taste from you,' said Cadurcis, gratified by the
+gracious remark.
+
+He seated himself at her feet, examined and admired her work, and
+talked of old times, but with such infinite discretion, that he did
+not arouse a single painful association. Venetia was busied with her
+father's poems, and smiled often at the manuscript notes of Cadurcis.
+Lying, as usual, on the grass, and leaning his head on his left arm,
+Herbert was listening to Captain Cadurcis, who was endeavouring to
+give him a clear idea of the Bosphorus. Thus the morning wore away,
+until the sun drove them into the villa.
+
+'I will show you my library, Lord Cadurcis,' said Herbert.
+
+Cadurcis followed him into a spacious apartment, where he found a
+collection so considerable that he could not suppress his surprise.
+'Italian spoils chiefly,' said Herbert; 'a friend of mine purchased
+an old library at Bologna for me, and it turned out richer than I
+imagined: the rest are old friends that have been with me, many of
+them at least, at college. I brought them back with me from America,
+for then they were my only friends.'
+
+'Can you find Cabanis?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+Herbert looked about. It is in this neighbourhood, I imagine,' he
+said. Cadurcis endeavoured to assist him. 'What is this?' he said;
+'Plato!'
+
+'I should like to read Plato at Athens,' said Herbert. 'My ambition
+now does not soar beyond such elegant fortune.'
+
+'We are all under great obligations to Plato,' said Cadurcis. 'I
+remember, when I was in London, I always professed myself his
+disciple, and it is astonishing what results I experienced. Platonic
+love was a great invention.'
+
+Herbert smiled; but, as he saw Cadurcis knew nothing about the
+subject, he made no reply.
+
+'Plato says, or at least I think he says, that life is love,' said
+Cadurcis. 'I have said it myself in a very grand way too; I believe I
+cribbed it from you. But what does he mean? I am sure I meant nothing;
+but I dare say you did.'
+
+'I certainly had some meaning,' said Herbert, stopping in his search,
+and smiling, 'but I do not know whether I expressed it. The principle
+of every motion, that is of all life, is desire or love: at present;
+I am in love with the lost volume of Cabanis, and, if it were not
+for the desire of obtaining it, I should not now be affording any
+testimony of my vitality by looking after it.'
+
+'That is very clear,' said Cadurcis, 'but I was thinking of love in
+the vulgar sense, in the shape of a petticoat. Certainly, when I am in
+love with a woman, I feel love is life; but, when I am out of love,
+which often happens, and generally very soon, I still contrive to
+live.'
+
+'We exist,' said Herbert, 'because we sympathise. If we did not
+sympathise with the air, we should die. But, if we only sympathised
+with the air, we should be in the lowest order of brutes, baser than
+the sloth. Mount from the sloth to the poet. It is sympathy that makes
+you a poet. It is your desire that the airy children of your brain
+should be born anew within another's, that makes you create;
+therefore, a misanthropical poet is a contradiction in terms.'
+
+'But when he writes a lampoon?' said Cadurcis.
+
+'He desires that the majority, who are not lampooned, should share his
+hate,' said Herbert.
+
+'But Swift lampooned the species,' said Cadurcis. 'For my part, I
+think life is hatred.'
+
+'But Swift was not sincere, for he wrote the Drapier's Letters at the
+same time. Besides, the very fact of your abusing mankind proves that
+you do not hate them; it is clear that you are desirous of obtaining
+their good opinion of your wit. You value them, you esteem them, you
+love them. Their approbation causes you to act, and makes you happy.
+As for sexual love,' said Herbert, 'of which you were speaking, its
+quality and duration depend upon the degree of sympathy that subsists
+between the two persons interested. Plato believed, and I believe with
+him, in the existence of a spiritual antitype of the soul, so that
+when we are born, there is something within us which, from the instant
+we live and move, thirsts after its likeness. This propensity develops
+itself with the development of our nature. The gratification of the
+senses soon becomes a very small part of that profound and complicated
+sentiment, which we call love. Love, on the contrary, is an universal
+thirst for a communion, not merely of the senses, but of our whole
+nature, intellectual, imaginative, and sensitive. He who finds his
+antitype, enjoys a love perfect and enduring; time cannot change it,
+distance cannot remove it; the sympathy is complete. He who loves an
+object that approaches his antitype, is proportionately happy, the
+sympathy is feeble or strong, as it may be. If men were properly
+educated, and their faculties fully developed,' continued Herbert,
+'the discovery of the antitype would be easy; and, when the day
+arrives that it is a matter of course, the perfection of civilisation
+will be attained.'
+
+'I believe in Plato,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I think I have found my
+antitype. His theory accounts for what I never could understand.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+In the course of the evening Lady Annabel requested Lord Cadurcis and
+his cousin to take up their quarters at the villa. Independent of the
+delight which such an invitation occasioned him, Cadurcis was doubly
+gratified by its being given by her. It was indeed her unprompted
+solicitation; for neither Herbert nor even Venetia, however much
+they desired the arrangement, was anxious to appear eager for its
+fulfilment. Desirous of pleasing her husband and her daughter; a
+little penitent as to her previous treatment of Cadurcis, now that
+time and strange events had combined to soften her feelings; and won
+by his engaging demeanour towards herself, Lady Annabel had of mere
+impulse resolved upon the act; and she was repaid by the general air
+of gaiety and content which it diffused through the circle.
+
+Few weeks indeed passed ere her ladyship taught herself even to
+contemplate the possibility of an union between her daughter and
+Lord Cadurcis. The change which had occurred in her own feelings and
+position had in her estimation removed very considerable barriers to
+such a result. It would not become her again to urge the peculiarity
+of his temperament as an insuperable objection to the marriage; that
+was out of the question, even if the conscience of Lady Annabel
+herself, now that she was so happy, were perfectly free from any
+participation in the causes which occasioned the original estrangement
+between Herbert and herself. Desirous too, as all mothers are, that
+her daughter should be suitably married, Lady Annabel could not shut
+her eyes to the great improbability of such an event occurring, now
+that Venetia had, as it were, resigned all connection with her native
+country. As to her daughter marrying a foreigner, the very idea was
+intolerable to her; and Venetia appeared therefore to have resumed
+that singular and delicate position which she occupied at Cherbury in
+earlier years, when Lady Annabel had esteemed her connection with Lord
+Cadurcis so fortunate and auspicious. Moreover, while Lord Cadurcis,
+in birth, rank, country, and consideration, offered in every view of
+the ease so gratifying an alliance, he was perhaps the only Englishman
+whose marriage into her family would not deprive her of the society of
+her child. Cadurcis had a great distaste for England, which he seized
+every opportunity to express. He continually declared that he would
+never return there; and his habits of seclusion and study so entirely
+accorded with those of her husband, that Lady Annabel did not doubt
+they would continue to form only one family; a prospect so engaging to
+her, that it would perhaps have alone removed the distrust which she
+had so unfortunately cherished against the admirer of her daughter;
+and although some of his reputed opinions occasioned her doubtless
+considerable anxiety, he was nevertheless very young, and far from
+emancipated from the beneficial influence of his early education. She
+was sanguine that this sheep would yet return to the fold where once
+he had been tended with so much solicitude. When too she called to
+mind the chastened spirit of her husband, and could not refrain from
+feeling that, had she not quitted him, he might at a much earlier
+period have attained a mood so full of promise and to her so cheering,
+she could not resist the persuasion that, under the influence of
+Venetia, Cadurcis might speedily free himself from the dominion of
+that arrogant genius to which, rather than to any serious conviction,
+the result of a studious philosophy, she attributed his indifference
+on the most important of subjects. On the whole, however, it was with
+no common gratification that Lady Annabel observed the strong and
+intimate friendship that arose between her husband and Cadurcis. They
+were inseparable companions. Independently of the natural sympathy
+between two highly imaginative minds, there were in the superior
+experience, the noble character, the vast knowledge, and refined taste
+of Herbert, charms of which Cadurcis was very susceptible Cadurcis had
+not been a great reader himself, and he liked the company of one whose
+mind was at once so richly cultured and so deeply meditative: thus he
+obtained matter and spirit distilled through the alembic of another's
+brain. Jealousy had never had a place in Herbert's temperament; now he
+was insensible even to emulation. He spoke of Cadurcis as he thought,
+with the highest admiration; as one without a rival, and in whose
+power it was to obtain an imperishable fame. It was his liveliest
+pleasure to assist the full development of such an intellect, and to
+pour to him, with a lavish hand, all the treasures of his taste, his
+learning, his fancy, and his meditation. His kind heart, his winning
+manners, his subdued and perfect temper, and the remembrance of the
+relation which he bore to Venetia, completed the spell which bound
+Cadurcis to him with all the finest feelings of his nature. It was,
+indeed, an intercourse peculiarly beneficial to Cadurcis, whose career
+had hitherto tended rather to the development of the power, than the
+refinement of his genius; and to whom an active communion with an
+equal spirit of a more matured intelligence was an incident rather to
+be desired than expected. Herbert and Cadurcis, therefore, spent their
+mornings together, sometimes in the library, sometimes wandering in
+the chestnut woods, sometimes sailing in the boat of the brig, for
+they were both fond of the sea: in these excursions, George was in
+general their companion. He had become a great favourite with Herbert,
+as with everybody else. No one managed a boat so well, although
+Cadurcis prided himself also on his skill in this respect; and George
+was so frank and unaffected, and so used to his cousin's habits, that
+his presence never embarrassed Herbert and Cadurcis, and they read or
+conversed quite at their ease, as if there were no third person to
+mar, by his want of sympathy, the full communion of their intellect.
+The whole circle met at dinner, and never again parted until at a late
+hour of night. This was a most agreeable life; Cadurcis himself, good
+humoured because he was happy, doubly exerted himself to ingratiate
+himself with Lady Annabel, and felt every day that he was advancing.
+Venetia always smiled upon him, and praised him delightfully for his
+delightful conduct.
+
+In the evening, Herbert would read to them the manuscript poem of
+Cadurcis, the fruits of his Attic residence and Grecian meditations.
+The poet would sometimes affect a playful bashfulness on this head,
+perhaps not altogether affected, and amuse Venetia, in a whisper, with
+his running comments; or exclaim with an arch air, 'I say, Venetia,
+what would Mrs. Montague and the Blues give for this, eh? I can fancy
+Hannah More in decent ecstasies!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+'It is an odd thing, my dear Herbert,' said Cadurcis to his friend, in
+one of these voyages, 'that destiny should have given you and me the
+same tutor.'
+
+'Masham!' said Herbert, smiling. 'I tell you what is much more
+singular, my dear Cadurcis; it is, that, notwithstanding being our
+tutor, a mitre should have fallen upon his head.'
+
+'I am heartily glad,' said Cadurcis. 'I like Masham very much; I
+really have a sincere affection for him. Do you know, during my
+infernal affair about those accursed Monteagles, when I went to the
+House of Lords, and was cut even by my own party; think of that, the
+polished ruffians! Masham was the only person who came forward and
+shook hands with me, and in the most marked manner. A bishop, too! and
+the other side! that was good, was it not? But he would not see his
+old pupil snubbed; if he had waited ten minutes longer, he might have
+had a chance of seeing him massacred. And then they complain of my
+abusing England, my mother country; a step-dame, I take it.'
+
+'Masham is in politics a Tory, in religion ultra-orthodox,' Herbert.
+'He has nothing about him of the latitudinarian; and yet he is the
+most amiable man with whom I am acquainted. Nature has given him a
+kind and charitable heart, which even his opinions have not succeeded
+in spoiling.'
+
+'Perhaps that is exactly what he is saying of us two at this moment,'
+said Cadurcis. 'After all, what is truth? It changes as you change
+your clime or your country; it changes with the century. The truth of
+a hundred years ago is not the truth of the present day, and yet it
+may have been as genuine. Truth at Rome is not the truth of London,
+and both of them differ from the truth of Constantinople. For my part,
+I believe everything.'
+
+'Well, that is practically prudent, if it be metaphysically possible,'
+said Herbert. 'Do you know that I have always been of opinion, that
+Pontius Pilate has been greatly misrepresented by Lord Bacon in the
+quotation of his celebrated question. 'What is truth?' said jesting
+Pilate, and would not wait for an answer. Let us be just to Pontius
+Pilate, who has sins enough surely to answer for. There is no
+authority for the jesting humour given by Lord Bacon. Pilate was
+evidently of a merciful and clement disposition; probably an
+Epicurean. His question referred to a declaration immediately
+preceding it, that He who was before him came to bear witness to the
+truth. Pilate inquired what truth?'
+
+'Well, I always have a prejudice against Pontius Pilate,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and I think it is from seeing him, when I was a child,
+on an old Dutch tile fireplace at Marringhurst, dressed like a
+burgomaster. One cannot get over one's early impressions; but when you
+picture him to me as an Epicurean, he assumes a new character. I fancy
+him young, noble, elegant, and accomplished; crowned with a wreath and
+waving a goblet, and enjoying his government vastly.'
+
+'Before the introduction of Christianity,' said Herbert, 'the
+philosophic schools answered to our present religious sects. You said
+of a man that he was a Stoic or an Epicurean, as you say of a man now
+that he is a Calvinist or a Wesleyan.'
+
+'I should have liked to have known Epicurus,' said Cadurcis.
+
+'I would sooner have known him and Plato than any of the ancients,'
+said Herbert. 'I look upon Plato as the wisest and the profoundest of
+men, and upon Epicurus as the most humane and gentle.'
+
+'Now, how do you account for the great popularity of Aristotle in
+modern ages?' said Cadurcis; 'and the comparative neglect of these, at
+least his equals? Chance, I suppose, that settles everything.'
+
+'By no means,' said Herbert. 'If you mean by chance an absence of
+accountable cause, I do not believe such a quality as chance exists.
+Every incident that happens, must be a link in a chain. In the present
+case, the monks monopolised literature, such as it might be, and they
+exercised their intellect only in discussing words. They, therefore,
+adopted Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Plato interfered with their
+heavenly knowledge, and Epicurus, who maintained the rights of man to
+pleasure and happiness, would have afforded a dangerous and seducing
+contrast to their dark and miserable code of morals.'
+
+'I think, of the ancients,' said Cadurcis; 'Alcibiades and Alexander
+the Great are my favourites. They were young, beautiful, and
+conquerors; a great combination.'
+
+'And among the moderns?' inquired Herbert.
+
+'They don't touch my fancy,' said Cadurcis. 'Who are your heroes?'
+
+'Oh! I have many; but I confess I should like to pass a day with
+Milton, or Sir Philip Sidney.'
+
+'Among mere literary men,' said Cadurcis; 'I should say Bayle.'
+
+'And old Montaigne for me,' said Herbert.
+
+'Well, I would fain visit him in his feudal chateau,' said Cadurcis.
+'His is one of the books which give a spring to the mind. Of modern
+times, the feudal ages of Italy most interest me. I think that was a
+springtide of civilisation, all the fine arts nourished at the same
+moment.'
+
+'They ever will,' said Herbert. 'All the inventive arts maintain a
+sympathetic connection between each other, for, after all, they are
+only various expressions of one internal power, modified by different
+circumstances either of the individual or of society. It was so in
+the age of Pericles; I mean the interval which intervened between
+the birth of that great man and the death of Aristotle; undoubtedly,
+whether considered in itself, or with reference to the effects which
+it produced upon the subsequent destinies of civilised man, the most
+memorable in the history of the world.'
+
+'And yet the age of Pericles has passed away,' said Lord Cadurcis
+mournfully, 'and I have gazed upon the mouldering Parthenon. O
+Herbert! you are a great thinker and muse deeply; solve me the
+problem why so unparalleled a progress was made during that period
+in literature and the arts, and why that progress, so rapid and so
+sustained, so soon received a check and became retrograde?'
+
+'It is a problem left to the wonder and conjecture of posterity,' said
+Herbert. 'But its solution, perhaps, may principally be found in the
+weakness of their political institutions. Nothing of the Athenians
+remains except their genius; but they fulfilled their purpose. The
+wrecks and fragments of their subtle and profound minds obscurely
+suggest to us the grandeur and perfection of the whole. Their language
+excels every other tongue of the Western world; their sculptures
+baffle all subsequent artists; credible witnesses assure us that their
+paintings were not inferior; and we are only accustomed to consider
+the painters of Italy as those who have brought the art to its highest
+perfection, because none of the ancient pictures have been preserved.
+Yet of all their fine arts, it was music of which the Greeks were
+themselves most proud. Its traditionary effects were far more powerful
+than any which we experience from the compositions of our times. And
+now for their poetry, Cadurcis. It is in poetry, and poetry alone,
+that modern nations have maintained the majesty of genius. Do we equal
+the Greeks? Do we even excel them?'
+
+'Let us prove the equality first,' said Cadurcis. 'The Greeks excelled
+in every species of poetry. In some we do not even attempt to rival
+them. We have not a single modern ode, or a single modern pastoral. We
+have no one to place by Pindar, or the exquisite Theocritus. As for
+the epic, I confess myself a heretic as to Homer; I look upon the
+Iliad as a remnant of national songs; the wise ones agree that the
+Odyssey is the work of a later age. My instinct agrees with the result
+of their researches. I credit their conclusion. The Paradise Lost is,
+doubtless, a great production, but the subject is monkish. Dante is
+national, but he has all the faults of a barbarous age. In general the
+modern epic is framed upon the assumption that the Iliad is an orderly
+composition. They are indebted for this fallacy to Virgil, who called
+order out of chaos; but the Aeneid, all the same, appears to me an
+insipid creation. And now for the drama. You will adduce Shakspeare?'
+
+'There are passages in Dante,' said Herbert, 'not inferior, in my
+opinion, to any existing literary composition, but, as a whole, I will
+not make my stand on him; I am not so clear that, as a lyric poet,
+Petrarch may not rival the Greeks. Shakspeare I esteem of ineffable
+merit.'
+
+'And who is Shakspeare?' said Cadurcis. 'We know of him as much as we
+do of Homer. Did he write half the plays attributed to him? Did he
+ever write a single whole play? I doubt it. He appears to me to have
+been an inspired adapter for the theatres, which were then not as
+good as barns. I take him to have been a botcher up of old plays.
+His popularity is of modern date, and it may not last; it would have
+surprised him marvellously. Heaven knows, at present, all that bears
+his name is alike admired; and a regular Shaksperian falls into
+ecstasies with trash which deserves a niche in the Dunciad. For my
+part, I abhor your irregular geniuses, and I love to listen to the
+little nightingale of Twickenham.'
+
+'I have often observed,' said Herbert, 'that writers of an unbridled
+imagination themselves, admire those whom the world, erroneously,
+in my opinion, and from a confusion of ideas, esteems correct. I am
+myself an admirer of Pope, though I certainly should not ever think of
+classing him among the great creative spirits. And you, you are the
+last poet in the world, Cadurcis, whom one would have fancied his
+votary.'
+
+'I have written like a boy,' said Cadurcis. 'I found the public bite,
+and so I baited on with tainted meat. I have never written for fame,
+only for notoriety; but I am satiated; I am going to turn over a new
+leaf.'
+
+'For myself,' said Herbert, 'if I ever had the power to impress my
+creations on my fellow-men, the inclination is gone, and perhaps the
+faculty is extinct. My career is over; perhaps a solitary echo from my
+lyre may yet, at times, linger about the world like a breeze that has
+lost its way. But there is a radical fault in my poetic mind, and I am
+conscious of it. I am not altogether void of the creative faculty, but
+mine is a fragmentary mind; I produce no whole. Unless you do this,
+you cannot last; at least, you cannot materially affect your species.
+But what I admire in you, Cadurcis, is that, with all the faults
+of youth, of which you will free yourself, your creative power is
+vigorous, prolific, and complete; your creations rise fast and fair,
+like perfect worlds.'
+
+'Well, we will not compliment each other,' said Cadurcis; 'for, after
+all, it is a miserable craft. What is poetry but a lie, and what are
+poets but liars?'
+
+'You are wrong, Cadurcis,' said Herbert, 'poets are the unacknowledged
+legislators of the world.'
+
+'I see the towers of Porto Venere,' said Cadurcis directing the sail;
+'we shall soon be on shore. I think, too, I recognise Venetia. Ah! my
+dear Herbert, your daughter is a poem that beats all our inspiration!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+One circumstance alone cast a gloom over this happy family, and that
+was the approaching departure of Captain Cadurcis for England. This
+had been often postponed, but it could be postponed no longer. Not
+even the entreaties of those kind friends could any longer prevent
+what was inevitable. The kind heart, the sweet temper, and the lively
+and companionable qualities of Captain Cadurcis, had endeared him to
+everyone; all felt that his departure would occasion a blank in
+their life, impossible to be supplied. It reminded the Herberts also
+painfully of their own situation, in regard to their native country,
+which they were ever unwilling to dwell upon. George talked of
+returning to them, but the prospect was necessarily vague; they
+felt that it was only one of those fanciful visions with which an
+affectionate spirit attempts to soothe the pang of separation. His
+position, his duties, all the projects of his life, bound him to
+England, from which, indeed, he had been too long absent. It was
+selfish to wish that, for their sakes, he should sink down into a mere
+idler in Italy; and yet, when they recollected how little his future
+life could be connected with their own, everyone felt dispirited.
+
+'I shall not go boating to-day,' said George to Venetia; 'it is my
+last day. Mr. Herbert and Plantagenet talk of going to Lavenza; let us
+take a stroll together.'
+
+Nothing can be refused to those we love on the last day, and Venetia
+immediately acceded to his request. In the course of the morning,
+therefore, herself and George quitted the valley, in the direction
+of the coast towards Genoa. Many a white sail glittered on the blue
+waters; it was a lively and cheering scene; but both Venetia and her
+companion were depressed.
+
+'I ought to be happy,' said George, and sighed. 'The fondest wish
+of my heart is attained. You remember our conversation on the Lago
+Maggiore, Venetia? You see I was a prophet, and you will be Lady
+Cadurcis yet.'
+
+'We must keep up our spirits,' said Venetia; 'I do not despair of our
+all returning to England yet. So many wonders have happened, that I
+cannot persuade myself that this marvel will not also occur. I am sure
+my uncle will do something; I have a secret idea that the Bishop is
+all this time working for papa; I feel assured I shall see Cherbury
+and Cadurcis again, and Cadurcis will be your home.'
+
+'A year ago you appeared dying, and Plantagenet was the most miserable
+of men,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'You are both now perfectly well and
+perfectly happy, living even under the same roof, soon, I feel, to be
+united, and with the cordial approbation of Lady Annabel. Your father
+is restored to you. Every blessing in the world seems to cluster round
+your roof. It is selfish for me to wear a gloomy countenance.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you never can be selfish,' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes, I am selfish, Venetia. What else can make me sad?'
+
+'You know how much you contribute to our happiness,' said Venetia,
+'and you feel for our sufferings at your absence.'
+
+'No, Venetia, I feel for myself,' said Captain Cadurcis with energy;
+'I am certain that I never can be happy, except in your society and
+Plantagenet's. I cannot express to you how I love you both. Nothing
+else gives me the slightest interest.'
+
+'You must go home and marry,' said Venetia, smiling 'You must marry an
+heiress.'
+
+'Never,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'Nothing shall ever induce me to
+marry. No! all my dreams are confined to being the bachelor uncle of
+the family.'
+
+'Well, now I think,' said Venetia, 'of all the persons I know, there
+is no one so qualified for domestic happiness as yourself. I think
+your wife, George, would be a very fortunate woman, and I only wish I
+had a sister, that you might marry her.'
+
+'I wish you had, Venetia; I would give up my resolution against
+marriage directly.'
+
+'Alas!' said Venetia, 'there is always some bitter drop in the cup of
+life. Must you indeed go, George?'
+
+'My present departure is inevitable,' he replied; 'but I have some
+thoughts of giving up my profession and Parliament, and then I will
+return, never to leave you again.'
+
+'What will Lord ---- say? That will never do,' said Venetia. 'No; I
+should not be content unless you prospered in the world, George. You
+are made to prosper, and I should be miserable if you sacrificed your
+existence to us. You must go home, and you must marry, and write
+letters to us by every post, and tell us what a happy man you are. The
+best thing for you to do would be to live with your wife at the abbey;
+or Cherbury, if you liked. You see I settle everything.'
+
+'I never will marry,' said Captain Cadurcis, seriously.
+
+'Yes you will,' said Venetia.
+
+'I am quite serious, Venetia. Now, mark my words, and remember this
+day. I never will marry. I have a reason, and a strong and good one,
+for my resolution.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'Because my marriage will destroy the intimacy that subsists between
+me and yourself, and Plantagenet,' he added.
+
+'Your wife should be my friend,' said Venetia.
+
+'Happy woman!' said George.
+
+'Let us indulge for a moment in a dream of domestic bliss,' said
+Venetia gaily. 'Papa and mamma at Cherbury; Plantagenet and myself at
+the abbey, where you and your wife must remain until we could build
+you a house; and Dr. Masham coming down to spend Christmas with us.
+Would it not be delightful? I only hope Plantagenet would be tame. I
+think he would burst out a little sometimes.'
+
+'Not with you, Venetia, not with you,' said George 'you have a hold
+over him which nothing can ever shake. I could always put him in an
+amiable mood in an instant by mentioning your name.'
+
+'I wish you knew the abbey, George,' said Venetia. 'It is the most
+interesting of all old places. I love it. You must promise me when you
+arrive in England to go on a pilgrimage to Cadurcis and Cherbury, and
+write me a long account of it.'
+
+'I will indeed; I will write to you very often.'
+
+'You shall find me a most faithful correspondent, which, I dare say,
+Plantagenet would not prove.'
+
+'Oh! I beg your pardon,' said George; 'you have no idea of the
+quantity of letters he wrote me when he first quitted England.
+And such delightful ones! I do not think there is a more lively
+letter-writer in the world! His descriptions are so vivid; a few
+touches give you a complete picture; and then his observations, they
+are so playful! I assure you there is nothing in the world more easy
+and diverting than a letter from Plantagenet.'
+
+'If you could only see his first letter from Eton to me?' said
+Venetia. 'I have always treasured it. It certainly was not very
+diverting; and, if by easy you mean easy to decipher,' she added
+laughing, 'his handwriting must have improved very much lately. Dear
+Plantagenet, I am always afraid I never pay him sufficient respect;
+that I do not feel sufficient awe in his presence; but I cannot
+disconnect him from the playfellow of my infancy; and, do you know, it
+seems to me, whenever he addresses me, his voice and air change, and
+assume quite the tone and manner of childhood.'
+
+'I have never known him but as a great man,' said Captain Cadurcis;
+'but he was so frank and simple with me from the very first, that I
+cannot believe that it is not two years since we first met.'
+
+'Ah! I shall never forget that night at Ranelagh,' said Venetia, half
+with a smile and half with a sigh. 'How interesting he looked! I loved
+to see the people stare at him, and to hear them whisper his name.'
+
+Here they seated themselves by a fountain, overshadowed by a
+plane-tree, and for a while talked only of Plantagenet.
+
+'All the dreams of my life have come to pass,' said Venetia. 'I
+remember when I was at Weymouth, ill and not very happy, I used to
+roam about the sands, thinking of papa, and how I wished Plantagenet
+was like him, a great man, a great poet, whom all the world admired.
+Little did I think that, before a year had passed, Plantagenet, my
+unknown Plantagenet, would be the admiration of England; little did I
+think another year would pass, and I should be living with my father
+and Plantagenet together, and they should be bosom friends. You see,
+George, we must never despair.'
+
+'Under this bright sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'one is naturally
+sanguine, but think of me alone and in gloomy England.'
+
+'It is indeed a bright sun,' said Venetia; 'how wonderful to wake
+every morning, and be sure of meeting its beam.'
+
+Captain Cadurcis looked around him with a sailor's eye. Over the
+Apennines, towards Genoa, there was a ridge of dark clouds piled up
+with such compactness, that they might have been mistaken in a hasty
+survey for part of the mountains themselves.
+
+'Bright as is the sun,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'we may have yet a
+squall before night.'
+
+'I was delighted with Venice,' said his companion, not noticing his
+observation; 'I think of all places in the world it is one which
+Plantagenet would most admire. I cannot believe but that even his
+delicious Athens would yield to it.'
+
+'He did lead the oddest life at Athens you can conceive,' said Captain
+Cadurcis. 'The people did not know what to make of him. He lived in
+the Latin convent, a fine building which he had almost to himself,
+for there are not half a dozen monks. He used to pace up and down the
+terrace which he had turned into a garden, and on which he kept all
+sorts of strange animals. He wrote continually there. Indeed he did
+nothing but write. His only relaxation was a daily ride to Piraeus,
+about five miles over the plain; he told me it was the only time in
+his life he was ever contented with himself except when he was at
+Cherbury. He always spoke of London with disgust.'
+
+'Plantagenet loves retirement and a quiet life,' said Venetia; 'but he
+must not be marred with vulgar sights and common-place duties. That is
+the secret with him.'
+
+'I think the wind has just changed,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'It seems
+to me that we shall have a sirocco. There, it shifts again! We shall
+have a sirocco for certain.'
+
+'What did you think of papa when you first saw him?' said Venetia.
+'Was he the kind of person you expected to see?'
+
+'Exactly,' said Captain Cadurcis. 'So very spiritual! Plantagenet said
+to me, as we went home the first night, that he looked like a golden
+phantom. I think him very like you, Venetia; indeed, there can be no
+doubt you inherited your face from your father.'
+
+'Ah! if you had seen his portrait at Cherbury, when he was only
+twenty!' said Venetia. 'That was a golden phantom, or rather he looked
+like Hyperion. What are you staring at so, George?'
+
+'I do not like this wind,' muttered Captain Cadurcis. 'There it goes.'
+
+'You cannot see the wind, George?'
+
+'Yes, I can, Venetia, and I do not like it at all. Do you see that
+black spot flitting like a shade over the sea? It is like the
+reflection of a cloud on the water; but there is no cloud. Well, that
+is the wind, Venetia, and a very wicked wind too.'
+
+'How strange! Is that indeed the wind?'
+
+'We had better return home,' said Captain Cadurcis I wish they had not
+gone to Lavenza.'
+
+'But there is no danger?' said Venetia.
+
+'Danger? No! no danger, but they may get a wet jacket.'
+
+They walked on; but Captain Cadurcis was rather distrait: his eye was
+always watching the wind; at last he said, 'I tell you, Venetia, we
+must walk quickly; for, by Jove, we are going to have a white squall.'
+
+They hurried their pace, Venetia mentioned her alarm again about the
+boat; but her companion reassured her; yet his manner was not so
+confident as his words.
+
+A white mist began to curl above the horizon, the blueness of the day
+seemed suddenly to fade, and its colour became grey; there was a swell
+on the waters that hitherto had been quite glassy, and they were
+covered with a scurfy foam.
+
+'I wish I had been with them,' said Captain Cadurcis, evidently very
+anxious.
+
+'George, you are alarmed,' said Venetia, earnestly. 'I am sure there
+is danger.'
+
+'Danger! How can there be danger, Venetia? Perhaps they are in port by
+this time. I dare say we shall find them at Spezzia. I will see you
+home and run down to them. Only hurry, for your own sake, for you do
+not know what a white squall in the Mediterranean is. We have but a
+few moments.'
+
+And even at this very instant, the wind came roaring and rushing with
+such a violent gush that Venetia could scarcely stand; George put his
+arm round her to support her. The air was filled with thick white
+vapour, so that they could no longer see the ocean, only the surf
+rising very high all along the coast.
+
+'Keep close to me, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis; 'hold my arm and I
+will walk first, for we shall not be able to see a yard before us in a
+minute. I know where we are. We are above the olive wood, and we shall
+soon be in the ravine. These Mediterranean white squalls are nasty
+things; I had sooner by half be in a south-wester; for one cannot run
+before the wind in this bay, the reefs stretch such a long way out.'
+
+The danger, and the inutility of expressing fears which could only
+perplex her guide, made Venetia silent, but she was terrified.
+She could not divest herself of apprehension about her father and
+Plantagenet. In spite of all he said, it was evident that her
+companion was alarmed.
+
+They had now entered the valley; the mountains had in some degree kept
+off the vapour; the air was more clear. Venetia and Captain Cadurcis
+stopped a moment to breathe. 'Now, Venetia, you are safe,' said
+Captain Cadurcis. 'I will not come in; I will run down to the bay at
+once.' He wiped the mist off his face: Venetia perceived him deadly
+pale.
+
+'George,' she said, 'conceal nothing from me; there is danger,
+imminent danger. Tell me at once.'
+
+'Indeed, Venetia,' said Captain Cadurcis, 'I am sure everything will
+be quite right. There is some danger, certainly, at this moment; but
+of course, long ago, they have run into harbour. I have no doubt they
+are at Spezzia at this moment. Now, do not be alarmed; indeed there
+is no cause. God bless you!' he said, and bounded away. 'No cause,'
+thought he to himself, as the wind sounded like thunder, and the
+vapour came rushing up the ravine. 'God grant I may be right; but
+neither between the Tropics nor on the Line have I witnessed a severer
+squall than this! What open boat can live in this weather Oh! that I
+had been with them. I shall never forgive myself!'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Venetia found her mother walking up and down the room, as was her
+custom when she was agitated. She hurried to her daughter. 'You must
+change your dress instantly, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel. 'Where is
+George?'
+
+'He has gone down to Spezzia to papa and Plantagenet; it is a white
+squall; it comes on very suddenly in this sea. He ran down to Spezzia
+instantly, because he thought they would be wet,' said the agitated
+Venetia, speaking with rapidity and trying to appear calm.
+
+'Are they at Spezzia?' inquired Lady Annabel, quickly.
+
+'George has no doubt they are, mother,' said Venetia.
+
+'No doubt!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, in great distress. 'God grant they
+may be only wet.'
+
+'Dearest mother,' said Venetia, approaching her, but speech deserted
+her. She had advanced to encourage Lady Annabel, but her own fear
+checked the words on her lips.
+
+'Change your dress, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel; 'lose no time in
+doing that. I think I will send down to Spezzia at once,'
+
+'That is useless now, dear mother, for George is there.'
+
+'Go, dearest,' said Lady Annabel; 'I dare say, we have no cause for
+fear, but I am exceedingly alarmed about your father, about them: I
+am, indeed. I do not like these sudden squalls, and I never liked this
+boating; indeed, I never did. George being with them reconciled me to
+it. Now go, Venetia; go, my love.'
+
+Venetia quitted the room. She was so agitated that she made Pauncefort
+a confidant of her apprehensions.
+
+'La! my dear miss,' said Mistress Pauncefort, 'I should never have
+thought of such a thing! Do not you remember what the old man said
+at Weymouth, "there is many a boat will live in a rougher sea than a
+ship;" and it is such an unlikely thing, it is indeed, Miss Venetia. I
+am certain sure my lord can manage a boat as well as a common sailor,
+and master is hardly less used to it than he. La! miss, don't make
+yourself nervous about any such preposterous ideas. And I dare say you
+will find them in the saloon when you go down again. Really I should
+not wonder. I think you had better wear your twill dress; I have put
+the new trimming on.'
+
+They had not returned when Venetia joined her mother. That indeed she
+could scarcely expect. But, in about half an hour, a message arrived
+from Captain Cadurcis that they were not at Spezzia, but from
+something he had heard, he had no doubt they were at Sarzana, and he
+was going to ride on there at once. He felt sure, however, from what
+he had heard, they were at Sarzana. This communication afforded Lady
+Annabel a little ease, but Venetia's heart misgave her. She recalled
+the alarm of George in the morning, which it was impossible for him to
+disguise, and she thought she recognised in this hurried message and
+vague assurances of safety something of the same apprehension, and the
+same fruitless efforts to conceal it.
+
+Now came the time of terrible suspense. Sarzana was nearly twenty
+miles distant from Spezzia. The evening must arrive before they could
+receive intelligence from Captain Cadurcis. In the meantime the squall
+died away, the heavens became again bright, and, though the waves were
+still tumultuous, the surf was greatly decreased. Lady Annabel had
+already sent down more than one messenger to the bay, but they brought
+no intelligence; she resolved now to go herself, that she might have
+the satisfaction of herself cross-examining the fishermen who had been
+driven in from various parts by stress of weather. She would not let
+Venetia accompany her, who, she feared, might already suffer from the
+exertions and rough weather of the morning. This was a most anxious
+hour, and yet the absence of her mother was in some degree a relief to
+Venetia; it at least freed her from the perpetual effort of assumed
+composure. While her mother remained, Venetia had affected to read,
+though her eye wandered listlessly over the page, or to draw, though
+the pencil trembled in her hand; anything which might guard her from
+conveying to her mother that she shared the apprehensions which had
+already darkened her mother's mind. But now that Lady Annabel was
+gone, Venetia, muffling herself up in her shawl, threw herself on a
+sofa, and there she remained without a thought, her mind a chaos of
+terrible images.
+
+Her mother returned, and with a radiant countenance, Venetia sprang
+from the sofa. 'There is good news; O mother! have they returned?'
+
+'They are not at Spezzia,' said Lady Annabel, throwing herself into a
+chair panting for breath; 'but there is good news. You see I was right
+to go, Venetia. These stupid people we send only ask questions, and
+take the first answer. I have seen a fisherman, and he says he heard
+that two persons, Englishmen he believes, have put into Lerici in an
+open boat.'
+
+'God be praised!' said Venetia. 'O mother, I can now confess to you
+the terror I have all along felt.'
+
+'My own heart assures me of it, my child,' said Lady Annabel weeping;
+and they mingled their tears together, but tears not of sorrow.
+
+'Poor George!' said Lady Annabel, 'he will have a terrible journey to
+Sarzana, and be feeling so much for us! Perhaps he may meet them.'
+
+'I feel assured he will,' said Venetia; 'and perhaps ere long they
+will all three be here again. Joy! joy!'
+
+'They must never go in that boat again,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Oh! they never will, dearest mother, if you ask them not,' said
+Venetia.
+
+'We will send to Lerici,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'Instantly,' said Venetia; 'but I dare say they already sent us a
+messenger.'
+
+'No!' said Lady Annabel; 'men treat the danger that is past very
+lightly. We shall not hear from them except in person.'
+
+Time now flew more lightly. They were both easy in their minds. The
+messenger was despatched to Lerici; but even Lerici was a considerable
+distance, and hours must elapse before his return. Still there was the
+hope of seeing them, or hearing from them in the interval.
+
+'I must go out, dear mother,' said Venetia. 'Let us both go out. It
+is now very fine. Let us go just to the ravine, for indeed it is
+impossible to remain here.'
+
+Accordingly they both went forth, and took up a position on the coast
+which commanded a view on all sides. All was radiant again, and
+comparatively calm. Venetia looked upon the sea, and said, 'Ah! I
+never shall forget a white squall in the Mediterranean, for all this
+splendour.'
+
+It was sunset: they returned home. No news yet from Lerici. Lady
+Annabel grew uneasy again. The pensive and melancholy hour encouraged
+gloom; but Venetia, who was sanguine, encouraged her mother.
+
+'Suppose they were not Englishmen in the boat,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+'It is impossible, mother. What other two persons in this
+neighbourhood could have been in an open boat? Besides, the man said
+Englishmen. You remember, he said Englishmen. You are quite sure he
+did? It must be they. I feel as convinced of it as of your presence.'
+
+'I think there can be no doubt,' said Lady Annabel. 'I wish that the
+messenger would return.'
+
+The messenger did return. No two persons in an open boat had put into
+Lerici; but a boat, like the one described, with every stitch of
+canvas set, had passed Lerici just before the squall commenced, and,
+the people there doubted not, had made Sarzana.
+
+Lady Annabel turned pale, but Venetia was still sanguine. 'They are
+at Sarzana,' she said; 'they must be at Sarzana: you see George was
+right. He said he was sure they were at Sarzana. Besides, dear mother,
+he heard they were at Sarzana.'
+
+'And we heard they were at Lerici,' said Lady Annabel in a melancholy
+tone.
+
+And so they were, dear mother; it all agrees. The accounts are
+consistent. Do not you see how very consistent they are? They were
+seen at Lerici, and were off Lerici, but they made Sarzana; and George
+heard they were at Sarzana. I am certain they are at Sarzana. I feel
+quite easy; I feel as easy as if they were here. They are safe at
+Sarzana. But it is too far to return to-night. We shall see them at
+breakfast to-morrow, all three.'
+
+'Venetia, dearest! do not you sit up,' said her mother. 'I think there
+is a chance of George returning; I feel assured he will send to-night;
+but late, of course. Go, dearest, and sleep.'
+
+'Sleep!' thought Venetia to herself; but to please her mother she
+retired.
+
+'Good-night, my child,' said Lady Annabel. 'The moment any one
+arrives, you shall be aroused.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Venetia, without undressing, lay down on her bed, watching for some
+sound that might give her hope of George's return. Dwelling on every
+instant, the time dragged heavily along, and she thought that the
+night had half passed when Pauncefort entered her room, and she
+learnt, to her surprise, that only an hour had elapsed since she had
+parted from her mother. This entrance of Pauncefort had given Venetia
+a momentary hope that they had returned.
+
+'I assure you, Miss Venetia, it is only an hour,' said Pauncefort,
+'and nothing could have happened. Now do try to go to sleep, that is
+a dear young lady, for I am certain sure that they will all return in
+the morning, as I am here. I was telling my lady just now, I said,
+says I, I dare say they are all very wet, and very fatigued.'
+
+'They would have returned, Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'or they would
+have sent. They are not at Sarzana.'
+
+'La! Miss Venetia, why should they be at Sarzana? Why should they not
+have gone much farther on! For, as Vicenzo was just saying to me, and
+Vicenzo knows all about the coast, with such a wind as this, I should
+not be surprised if they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'O Pauncefort!' said Venetia, 'I am sick at heart!'
+
+'Now really, Miss Venetia, do not take on so!' said Pauncefort; 'for
+do not you remember when his lordship ran away from the abbey, and
+went a gipsying, nothing would persuade poor Mrs. Cadurcis that he was
+not robbed and murdered, and yet you see he was as safe and sound all
+the time, as if he had been at Cherbury.'
+
+'Does Vicenzo really think they could have reached Leghorn?' said
+Venetia, clinging to every fragment of hope.
+
+'He is morally sure of it, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'and I feel
+quite as certain, for Vicenzo is always right.'
+
+'I had confidence about Sarzana,' said Venetia; 'I really did believe
+they were at Sarzana. If only Captain Cadurcis would return; if he
+only would return, and say they were not at Sarzana, I would try to
+believe they were at Leghorn.'
+
+'Now, Miss Venetia,' said Pauncefort, 'I am certain sure that they are
+quite safe; for my lord is a very good sailor; he is, indeed; all the
+men say so; and the boat is as seaworthy a boat as boat can be. There
+is not the slightest fear, I do assure you, miss.'
+
+'Do the men say that Plantagenet is a good sailor?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'Quite professional!' said Mistress Pauncefort; 'and can command a
+ship as well as the best of them. They all say that.'
+
+'Hush! Pauncefort, I hear something.'
+
+'It's only my lady, miss. I know her step,'
+
+'Is my mother going to bed?' said Venetia.
+
+'Yes,' said Pauncefort, 'my lady sent me here to see after you. I wish
+I could tell her you were asleep.'
+
+'It is impossible to sleep,' said Venetia, rising up from the bed,
+withdrawing the curtain, and looking at the sky. 'What a peaceful
+night! I wish my heart were like the sky. I think I will go to mamma,
+Pauncefort!'
+
+'Oh! dear, Miss Venetia, I am sure I think you had better not. If you
+and my lady, now, would only just go to sleep, and forget every thing
+till morning, it would be much better for you. Besides, I am sure if
+my lady knew you were not gone to bed already, it would only make her
+doubly anxious. Now, really, Miss Venetia, do take my advice, and just
+lie down, again. You may be sure the moment any one arrives I will let
+you know. Indeed, I shall go and tell my lady that you are lying down
+as it is, and very drowsy;' and, so saying, Mistress Pauncefort caught
+up her candle, and bustled out of the room.
+
+Venetia took up the volume of her father's poems, which Cadurcis had
+filled with his notes. How little did Plantagenet anticipate, when he
+thus expressed at Athens the passing impressions of his mind, that,
+ere a year had glided away, his fate would be so intimately blended
+with that of Herbert! It was impossible, however, for Venetia to lose
+herself in a volume which, under any other circumstances, might have
+compelled her spirit! the very associations with the writers added
+to the terrible restlessness of her mind. She paused each instant
+to listen for the wished-for sound, but a mute stillness reigned
+throughout the house and household. There was something in this deep,
+unbroken silence, at a moment when anxiety was universally diffused
+among the dwellers beneath that roof, and the heart of more than one
+of them was throbbing with all the torture of the most awful suspense,
+that fell upon Venetia's excited nerves with a very painful and even
+insufferable influence. She longed for sound, for some noise that
+might assure her she was not the victim of a trance. She closed her
+volume with energy, and she started at the sound she had herself
+created. She rose and opened the door of her chamber very softly, and
+walked into the vestibule. There were caps, and cloaks, and whips, and
+canes of Cadurcis and her father, lying about in familiar confusion.
+It seemed impossible but that they were sleeping, as usual, under the
+same roof. And where were they? That she should live and be unable to
+answer that terrible question! When she felt the utter helplessness of
+all her strong sympathy towards them, it seemed to her that she must
+go mad. She gazed around her with a wild and vacant stare. At the
+bottom of her heart there was a fear maturing into conviction too
+horrible for expression. She returned to her own chamber, and the
+exhaustion occasioned by her anxiety, and the increased coolness of
+the night, made her at length drowsy. She threw herself on the bed and
+slumbered.
+
+She started in her sleep, she awoke, she dreamed they had come home.
+She rose and looked at the progress of the night. The night was waning
+fast; a grey light was on the landscape; the point of day approached.
+Venetia stole softly to her mother's room, and entered it with a
+soundless step. Lady Annabel had not retired to bed. She had sat up
+the whole night, and was now asleep. A lamp on a small table was
+burning at her side, and she held, firmly grasped in her hand, the
+letter of her husband, which he had addressed to her at Venice, and
+which she had been evidently reading. A tear glided down the cheek of
+Venetia as she watched her mother retaining that letter with fondness
+even in her sleep, and when she thought of all the misery, and
+heartaches, and harrowing hours that had preceded its receipt, and
+which Venetia believed that letter had cured for ever. What misery
+awaited them now? Why were they watchers of the night? She shuddered
+when these dreadful questions flitted through her mind. She shuddered
+and sighed. Her mother started, and woke.
+
+'Who is there?' inquired Lady Annabel.
+
+'Venetia.'
+
+'My child, have you not slept?'
+
+'Yes, mother, and I woke refreshed, as I hope you do.'
+
+'I wake with trust in God's mercy,' said Lady Annabel. 'Tell me the
+hour.'
+
+'It is just upon dawn, mother.'
+
+'Dawn! no one has returned, or come.'
+
+'The house is still, mother.'
+
+'I would you were in bed, my child.'
+
+'Mother, I can sleep no more. I wish to be with you;' and Venetia
+seated herself at her mother's feet, and reclined her head upon her
+mother's knee.
+
+'I am glad the night has passed, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a
+suppressed yet solemn tone. 'It has been a trial.' And here she placed
+the letter in her bosom. Venetia could only answer with a sigh.
+
+'I wish Pauncefort would come,' said Lady Annabel; 'and yet I do not
+like to rouse her, she was up so late, poor creature! If it be the
+dawn I should like to send out messengers again; something may be
+heard at Spezzia.'
+
+'Vicenzo thinks they have gone to Leghorn, mother.'
+
+'Has he heard anything!' said Lady Annabel, eagerly.
+
+'No, but he is an excellent judge,' said Venetia, repeating all
+Pauncefort's consolatory chatter. 'He knows the coast so well. He says
+he is sure the wind would carry them on to Leghorn; and that accounts,
+you know, mother, for George not returning. They are all at Leghorn.'
+
+'Would that George would return,' murmured Lady Annabel; 'I wish I
+could see again that sailor who said they were at Lerici. He was an
+intelligent man.'
+
+'Perhaps if we send down to the bay he may be there,' said Venetia.'
+
+'Hush! I hear a step!' said Lady Annabel.
+
+Venetia sprung up and opened the door, but it was only Pauncefort in
+the vestibule.
+
+'The household are all up, my lady,' said that important personage
+entering; ''tis a beautiful morning. Vicenzo has run down to the bay,
+my lady; I sent him off immediately. Vicenzo says he is certain sure
+they are at Leghorn, my lady; and, this time three years, the very
+same thing happened. They were fishing for anchovies, my lady, close
+by, my lady, near Sarzana; two young men, or rather one about the same
+age as master, and one like my lord; cousins, my lady, and just in the
+same sort of boat, my lady; and there came on a squall, just the same
+sort of squall, my lady; and they did not return home; and everyone
+was frightened out of their wits, my lady, and their wives and
+families quite distracted; and after all they were at Leghorn; for
+this sort of wind always takes your open boats to Leghorn, Vicenzo
+says.'
+
+The sun rose, the household were all stirring, and many of them
+abroad; the common routine of domestic duty seemed, by some general
+yet not expressed understanding, to have ceased. The ladies descended
+below at a very early hour, and went forth into the valley, once the
+happy valley. What was to be its future denomination? Vicenzo returned
+from the bay, and he contrived to return with cheering intelligence.
+The master of a felucca who, in consequence of the squall had put in
+at Lerici, and in the evening dropped down to Spezzia, had met an open
+boat an hour before he reached Sarzana, and was quite confident that,
+if it had put into port, it must have been, from the speed at which it
+was going, a great distance down the coast. No wrecks had been heard
+of in the neighbourhood. This intelligence, the gladsome time of day,
+and the non-arrival of Captain Cadurcis, which according to their mood
+was always a circumstance that counted either for good or for evil,
+and the sanguine feelings which make us always cling to hope,
+altogether reassured our friends. Venetia dismissed from her mind the
+dark thought which for a moment had haunted her in the noon of night;
+and still it was a suspense, a painful, agitating suspense, but only
+suspense that yet influenced them.
+
+'Time! said Lady Annabel. 'Time! we must wait.'
+
+Venetia consoled her mother; she affected even a gaiety of spirit;
+she was sure that Vicenzo would turn out to be right, after all;
+Pauncefort said he always was right, and that they were at Leghorn.
+
+The day wore apace; the noon arrived and passed; it was even
+approaching sunset. Lady Annabel was almost afraid to counterorder the
+usual meals, lest Venetia should comprehend her secret terror; the
+very same sentiment influenced Venetia. Thus they both had submitted
+to the ceremony of breakfast, but when the hour of dinner approached
+they could neither endure the mockery. They looked at each other, and
+almost at the same time they proposed that, instead of dining, they
+should walk down to the bay.
+
+'I trust we shall at least hear something before the night,' said Lady
+Annabel. 'I confess I dread the coming night. I do not think I could
+endure it.'
+
+'The longer we do not hear, the more certain I am of their being at
+Leghorn,' said Venetia.
+
+'I have a great mind to travel there to-night,' said Lady Annabel.
+
+As they were stepping into the portico, Venetia recognised Captain
+Cadurcis in the distance. She turned pale; she would have fallen had
+she not leaned on her mother, who was not so advanced, and who had not
+seen him.
+
+'What is the matter, Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, alarmed.
+
+'He is here, he is here!'
+
+'Marmion?'
+
+'No, George. Let me sit down.'
+
+Her mother tried to support her to a chair. Lady Annabel took off her
+bonnet. She had not strength to walk forth. She could not speak. She
+sat down opposite Venetia, and her countenance pictured distress to so
+painful a degree, that at any other time Venetia would have flown to
+her, but in this crisis of suspense it was impossible. George was in
+sight; he was in the portico; he was in the room.
+
+He looked wan, haggard, and distracted. More than once he essayed to
+speak, but failed.
+
+Lady Annabel looked at him with a strange, delirious expression.
+Venetia rushed forward and seized his arm, and gazed intently on his
+face. He shrank from her glance; his frame trembled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+In the heart of the tempest Captain Cadurcis traced his way in a sea
+of vapour with extreme danger and difficulty to the shore. On his
+arrival at Spezzia, however, scarcely a house was visible, and the
+only evidence of the situation of the place was the cessation of an
+immense white surf which otherwise indicated the line of the sea, but
+the absence of which proved his contiguity to a harbour. In the thick
+fog he heard the cries and shouts of the returning fishermen, and
+of their wives and children responding from the land to their
+exclamations. He was forced, therefore, to wait at Spezzia, in an
+agony of impotent suspense, until the fury of the storm was over and
+the sky was partially cleared. At length the objects became gradually
+less obscure; he could trace the outline of the houses, and catch a
+glimpse of the water half a mile out, and soon the old castles which
+guard the entrance of the strait that leads into the gulf, looming
+in the distance, and now and then a group of human beings in the
+vanishing vapour. Of these he made some inquiries, but in vain,
+respecting the boat and his friends. He then made the brig, but could
+learn nothing except their departure in the morning. He at length
+obtained a horse and galloped along the coast towards Lerici, keeping
+a sharp look out as he proceeded and stopping at every village in his
+progress for intelligence. When he had arrived in the course of three
+hours at Lerici, the storm had abated, the sky was clear, and no
+evidence of the recent squall remained except the agitated state
+of the waves. At Lerici he could hear nothing, so he hurried on to
+Sarzana, where he learnt for the first time that an open boat,
+with its sails set, had passed more than an hour before the squall
+commenced. From Sarzana he hastened on to Lavenza, a little port, the
+nearest sea-point to Massa, and where the Carrara marble is shipped
+for England. Here also his inquiries were fruitless, and, exhausted
+by his exertions, he dismounted and rested at the inn, not only for
+repose, but to consider over the course which he should now pursue.
+The boat had not been seen off Lavenza, and the idea that they had
+made the coast towards Leghorn now occurred to him. His horse was so
+wearied that he was obliged to stop some time at Lavenza, for he could
+procure no other mode of conveyance; the night also was fast coming
+on, and to proceed to Leghorn by this dangerous route at this hour was
+impossible. At Lavenza therefore he remained, resolved to hasten
+to Leghorn at break of day. This was a most awful night. Although
+physically exhausted, Captain Cadurcis could not sleep, and, after
+some vain efforts, he quitted his restless bed on which he had laid
+down without undressing, and walked forth to the harbour. Between
+anxiety for Herbert and his cousin, and for the unhappy women whom he
+had left behind, he was nearly distracted. He gazed on the sea, as if
+some sail in sight might give him a chance of hope. His professional
+experience assured him of all the danger of the squall. He could not
+conceive how an open boat could live in such a sea, and an instant
+return to port so soon as the squall commenced, appeared the only
+chance of its salvation. Could they have reached Leghorn? It seemed
+impossible. There was no hope they could now be at Sarzana, or Lerici.
+When he contemplated the full contingency of what might have occurred,
+his mind wandered, and refused to comprehend the possibility of the
+terrible conclusion. He thought the morning would never break.
+
+There was a cavernous rock by the seashore, that jutted into the water
+like a small craggy promontory. Captain Cadurcis climbed to its top,
+and then descending, reclined himself upon an inferior portion of it,
+which formed a natural couch with the wave on each side. There, lying
+at his length, he gazed upon the moon and stars whose brightness he
+thought would never dim. The Mediterranean is a tideless sea, but the
+swell of the waves, which still set in to the shore, bore occasionally
+masses of sea-weed and other marine formations, and deposited them
+around him, plashing, as it broke against the shore, with a melancholy
+and monotonous sound. The abstraction of the scene, the hour, and the
+surrounding circumstances brought, however, no refreshment to the
+exhausted spirit of George Cadurcis. He could not think, indeed he did
+not dare to think; but the villa of the Apennines and the open boat in
+the squall flitted continually before him. His mind was feeble though
+excited, and he fell into a restless and yet unmeaning reverie. As
+long as he had been in action, as long as he had been hurrying along
+the coast, the excitement of motion, the constant exercise of his
+senses, had relieved or distracted the intolerable suspense. But this
+pause, this inevitable pause, overwhelmed him. It oppressed his spirit
+like eternity. And yet what might the morning bring? He almost wished
+that he might remain for ever on this rock watching the moon and
+stars, and that the life of the world might never recommence.
+
+He started; he had fallen into a light slumber; he had been dreaming;
+he thought he had heard the voice of Venetia calling him; he had
+forgotten where he was; he stared at the sea and sky, and recalled
+his dreadful consciousness. The wave broke with a heavy plash that
+attracted his attention: it was, indeed, that sound that had awakened
+him. He looked around; there was some object; he started wildly from
+his resting-place, sprang over the cavern, and bounded on the beach.
+It was a corpse; he is kneeling by its side. It is the corpse of his
+cousin! Lord Cadurcis was a fine swimmer, and had evidently made
+strong efforts for his life, for he was partly undressed. In all the
+insanity of hope, still wilder than despair, George Cadurcis seized
+the body and bore it some yards upon the shore. Life had been long
+extinct. The corpse was cold and stark, the eyes closed, an expression
+of energy, however, yet lingering in the fixed jaw, and the hair
+sodden with the sea. Suddenly Captain Cadurcis rushed to the inn and
+roused the household. With a distracted air, and broken speech and
+rapid motion, he communicated the catastrophe. Several persons, some
+bearing torches, others blankets and cordials, followed him instantly
+to the fatal spot. They hurried to the body, they applied all the rude
+remedies of the moment, rather from the impulse of nervous excitement
+than with any practical purpose; for the case had been indeed long
+hopeless. While Captain Cadurcis leant over the body, chafing
+the extremities in a hurried frenzy, and gazing intently on the
+countenance, a shout was heard from one of the stragglers who had
+recently arrived. The sea had washed on the beach another corpse: the
+form of Marmion Herbert. It would appear that he had made no struggle
+to save himself, for his hand was locked in his waistcoat, where, at
+the moment, he had thrust the Phaedo, showing that he had been reading
+to the last, and was meditating on immortality when he died.
+
+END OF BOOK VI.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+It was the commencement of autumn. The verdure of summer still
+lingered on the trees; the sky, if not so cloudless, was almost as
+refulgent as Italy; and the pigeons, bright and glancing, clustered on
+the roof of the hall of Cherbury. The steward was in attendance; the
+household, all in deep mourning, were assembled; everything was in
+readiness for the immediate arrival of Lady Annabel Herbert.
+
+''Tis nearly four years come Martinmas,' said the grey-headed butler,
+'since my lady left us.'
+
+'And no good has come of it,' said the housekeeper. 'And for my part I
+never heard of good coming from going to foreign parts.'
+
+'I shall like to see Miss Venetia again,' said a housemaid. 'Bless her
+sweet face.'
+
+'I never expected to see her Miss Venetia again from all we heard,'
+said a footman.
+
+'God's will be done!' said the grey-headed butler; 'but I hope she
+will find happiness at home. 'Tis nigh on twenty years since I first
+nursed her in these arms.'
+
+'I wonder if there is any new Lord Cadurcis,' said the footman. 'I
+think he was the last of the line.'
+
+'It would have been a happy day if I had lived to have seen the poor
+young lord marry Miss Venetia,' said the housekeeper. 'I always
+thought that match was made in heaven.'
+
+'He was a sweet-spoken young gentleman,' said the housemaid.
+
+'For my part,' said the footman, 'I should like to have seen our real
+master, Squire Herbert. He was a famous gentleman by all accounts.'
+
+'I wish they had lived quietly at home,' said the housekeeper.
+
+'I shall never forget the time when my lord returned,' said the
+grey-headed butler. 'I must say I thought it was a match.'
+
+'Mistress Pauncefort seemed to think so,' said the housemaid.
+
+'And she understands those things,' said the footman.
+
+'I see the carriage,' said a servant who was at a window in the hall.
+All immediately bustled about, and the housekeeper sent a message to
+the steward.
+
+The carriage might be just discovered at the end of the avenue. It was
+some time before it entered the iron gates that were thrown open for
+its reception. The steward stood on the steps with his hat off, the
+servants were ranged in order at the entrance. Touching their horses
+with the spur, and cracking their whips, the postilions dashed
+round the circular plot and stopped at the hall-door. Under any
+circumstances a return home after an interval of years is rather an
+awful moment; there was not a servant who was not visibly affected.
+On the outside of the carriage was a foreign servant and Mistress
+Pauncefort, who was not so profuse as might have been expected in her
+recognitions of her old friends; her countenance was graver than of
+yore. Misfortune and misery had subdued even Mistress Pauncefort. The
+foreign servant opened the door of the carriage; a young man, who was
+a stranger to the household, but who was in deep mourning, alighted,
+and then Lady Annabel appeared. The steward advanced to welcome her,
+the household bowed and curtseyed. She smiled on them for a moment
+graciously and kindly, but her countenance immediately reassumed a
+serious air, and whispering one word to the strange gentleman, she
+entered the hall alone, inviting the steward to follow her.
+
+'I hope your ladyship is well; welcome home, my lady; welcome again to
+Cherbury; a welcome return, my lady; hope Miss Venetia is quite well;
+happy to see your ladyship amongst us again, and Miss Venetia too, my
+lady.' Lady Annabel acknowledged these salutations with kindness, and
+then, saying that Miss Herbert was not very well and was fatigued with
+her journey, she dismissed her humble but trusty friends. Lady Annabel
+then turned and nodded to her fellow-traveller.
+
+Upon this Lord Cadurcis, if we must indeed use a title from which he
+himself shrank, carried a shrouded form in his arms into the hall,
+where the steward alone lingered, though withdrawn to the back part
+of the scene; and Lady Annabel, advancing to meet him, embraced his
+treasured burden, her own unhappy child.
+
+'Now, Venetia! dearest Venetia!' she said, ''tis past; we are at
+home.'
+
+Venetia leant upon her mother, but made no reply.
+
+'Upstairs, dearest,' said Lady Annabel: 'a little exertion, a very
+little.' Leaning on her mother and Lord Cadurcis, Venetia ascended the
+staircase, and they reached the terrace-room. Venetia looked around
+her as she entered the chamber; that scene of her former life,
+endeared to her by so many happy hours, and so many sweet incidents;
+that chamber where she had first seen Plantagenet. Lord Cadurcis
+supported her to a chair, and then, overwhelmed by irresistible
+emotion, she sank back in a swoon.
+
+No one was allowed to enter the room but Pauncefort. They revived her;
+Lord Cadurcis holding her hand, and touching, with a watchful finger,
+her pulse. Venetia opened her eyes, and looked around her. Her
+mind did not wander; she immediately recognised where she was, and
+recollected all that had happened. She faintly smiled, and said, in a
+low voice 'You are all too kind, and I am very weak. After our trials,
+what is this, George?' she added, struggling to appear animated; 'you
+are at length at Cherbury.'
+
+Once more at Cherbury! It was, indeed, an event that recalled a
+thousand associations. In the wild anguish of her first grief, when
+the dreadful intelligence was broken to her, if anyone had whispered
+to Venetia that she would yet find herself once more at Cherbury, she
+would have esteemed the intimation as mockery. But time and hope will
+struggle with the most poignant affliction, and their influence is
+irresistible and inevitable. From her darkened chamber in their
+Mediterranean villa, Venetia had again come forth, and crossed
+mountains, and traversed immense plains, and journeyed through many
+countries. She could not die, as she had supposed at first that she
+must, and therefore she had exerted herself to quit, and to quit
+speedily, a scene so terrible as their late abode. She was the very
+first to propose their return to England, and to that spot where she
+had passed her early life, and where she now wished to fulfil, in
+quiet and seclusion, the allotment of her remaining years; to
+meditate over the marvellous past, and cherish its sweet and bitter
+recollections. The native firmness of Lady Annabel, her long exercised
+control over her emotions, the sadness and subdued tone which the
+early incidents of her career had cast over her character, her
+profound sympathy with her daughter, and that religious consolation
+which never deserted her, had alike impelled and enabled her to bear
+up against the catastrophe with more fortitude than her child. The
+arrow, indeed, had struck Venetia with a double barb. She was the
+victim; and all the cares of Lady Annabel had been directed to soothe
+and support this stricken lamb. Yet perhaps these unhappy women must
+have sunk under their unparalleled calamities, had it not been for the
+devotion of their companion. In the despair of his first emotions,
+George Cadurcis was nearly plunging himself headlong into the wave
+that had already proved so fatal to his house. But when he thought of
+Lady Annabel and Venetia in a foreign land, without a single friend in
+their desolation, and pictured them to himself with the dreadful news
+abruptly communicated by some unfeeling stranger; and called upon,
+in the midst of their overwhelming agony, to attend to all the
+heart-rending arrangements which the discovery of the bodies of the
+beings to whom they were devoted, and in whom all their feelings were
+centred, must necessarily entail upon them, he recoiled from what he
+contemplated as an act of infamous desertion. He resolved to live, if
+only to preserve them from all their impending troubles, and with the
+hope that his exertions might tend, in however slight a degree, not
+to alleviate, for that was impossible; but to prevent the increase
+of that terrible woe, the very conception of which made his brain
+stagger. He carried the bodies, therefore, with him to Spezzia, and
+then prepared for that fatal interview, the commencement of which we
+first indicated. Yet it must be confessed that, though the bravest
+of men, his courage faltered as he entered the accustomed ravine. He
+stopped and looked down on the precipice below; he felt it utterly
+impossible to meet them; his mind nearly deserted him. Death, some
+great and universal catastrophe, an earthquake, a deluge, that would
+have buried them all in an instant and a common fate, would have been
+hailed by George Cadurcis, at that moment, as good fortune.
+
+He lurked about the ravine for nearly three hours before he could
+summon up heart for the awful interview. The position he had taken
+assured him that no one could approach the villa, to which he himself
+dared not advance. At length, in a paroxysm of energetic despair, he
+had rushed forward, met them instantly, and confessed with a whirling
+brain, and almost unconscious of his utterance, that 'they could not
+hope to see them again in this world.'
+
+What ensued must neither be attempted to be described, nor even
+remembered. It was one of those tragedies of life which enfeeble the
+most faithful memories at a blow shatter nerves beyond the faculty of
+revival, cloud the mind for ever, or turn the hair grey in an instant.
+They carried Venetia delirious to her bed. The very despair, and
+almost madness, of her daughter forced Lady Annabel to self-exertion,
+of which it was difficult to suppose that even she was capable. And
+George, too, was obliged to leave them. He stayed only the night. A
+few words passed between Lady Annabel and himself; she wished the
+bodies to be embalmed, and borne to England. There was no time to be
+lost, and there was no one to be entrusted except George. He had to
+hasten to Genoa to make all these preparations, and for two days he
+was absent from the villa. When he returned, Lady Annabel saw him, but
+Venetia was for a long time invisible. The moment she grew composed,
+she expressed a wish to her mother instantly to return to Cherbury.
+All the arrangements necessarily devolved upon George Cadurcis. It
+was his study that Lady Annabel should be troubled upon no point. The
+household were discharged, all the affairs were wound up, the felucca
+hired which was to bear them to Genoa, and in readiness, before he
+notified to them that the hour of departure had arrived. The most
+bitter circumstance was looking again upon the sea. It seemed so
+intolerable to Venetia, that their departure was delayed more than one
+day in consequence; but it was inevitable; they could reach Genoa in
+no other manner. George carried Venetia in his arms to the boat, with
+her face covered with a shawl, and bore her in the same manner to the
+hotel at Genoa, where their travelling carriage awaited them.
+
+They travelled home rapidly. All seemed to be impelled, as it were,
+by a restless desire for repose. Cherbury was the only thought in
+Venetia's mind. She observed nothing; she made no remark during their
+journey; they travelled often throughout the night; but no obstacles
+occurred, no inconveniences. There was one in this miserable society
+whose only object in life was to support Venetia under her terrible
+visitation. Silent, but with an eye that never slept, George Cadurcis
+watched Venetia as a nurse might a child. He read her thoughts, he
+anticipated her wishes without inquiring them; every arrangement was
+unobtrusively made that could possibly consult her comfort.
+
+They passed through London without stopping there. George would not
+leave them for an instant; nor would he spare a thought to his own
+affairs, though they urgently required his attention. The change in
+his position gave him no consolation; he would not allow his passport
+to be made out with his title; he shuddered at being called Lord
+Cadurcis; and the only reason that made him hesitate about attending
+them to Cherbury was its contiguity to his ancestral seat, which he
+resolved never to visit. There never in the world was a less selfish
+and more single-hearted man than George Cadurcis. Though the death of
+his cousin had invested him with one of the most ancient coronets in
+England, a noble residence and a fair estate, he would willingly have
+sacrificed his life to have recalled Plantagenet to existence, and to
+have secured the happiness of Venetia Herbert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+The reader must not suppose, from the irresistible emotion that
+overcame Venetia at the very moment of her return, that she was
+entirely prostrated by her calamities. On the contrary, her mind had
+been employed, during the whole of her journey to England, in a silent
+effort to endure her lot with resignation. She had resolved to bear up
+against her misery with fortitude, and she inherited from her mother
+sufficient firmness of mind to enable her to achieve her purpose. She
+came back to Cherbury to live with patience and submission; and though
+her dreams of happiness might be vanished for ever, to contribute as
+much as was in her power to the content of that dear and remaining
+relative who was yet spared to her, and who depended in this world
+only upon the affection of her child. The return to Cherbury was a
+pang, and it was over. Venetia struggled to avoid the habits of an
+invalid; she purposed resuming, as far as was in her power, all the
+pursuits and duties of her life; and if it were neither possible, nor
+even desirable, to forget the past, she dwelt upon it neither to sigh
+nor to murmur, but to cherish in a sweet and musing mood the ties and
+affections round which all her feelings had once gathered with so much
+enjoyment and so much hope.
+
+She rose, therefore, on the morning after her return to Cherbury, at
+least serene; and she took an early opportunity, when George and her
+mother were engaged, and absent from the terrace-room, to go forth
+alone and wander amid her old haunts. There was not a spot about the
+park and gardens, which had been favourite resorts of herself and
+Plantagenet in their childhood, that she did not visit. They were
+unchanged; as green, and bright, and still as in old days, but what
+was she? The freshness, and brilliancy, and careless happiness of her
+life were fled for ever. And here he lived, and here he roamed, and
+here his voice sounded, now in glee, now in melancholy, now in wild
+and fanciful amusement, and now pouring into her bosom all his
+domestic sorrows. It was but ten years since he first arrived at
+Cherbury, and who could have anticipated that that little, silent,
+reserved boy should, ere ten years had passed, have filled a wide and
+lofty space in the world's thought; that his existence should have
+influenced the mind of nations, and his death eclipsed their gaiety!
+His death! Terrible and disheartening thought! Plantagenet was no
+more. But he had not died without a record. His memory was embalmed
+in immortal verse, and he had breathed his passion to his Venetia in
+language that lingered in the ear, and would dwell for ever on the
+lips, of his fellow-men.
+
+Among these woods, too, had Venetia first mused over her father;
+before her rose those mysterious chambers, whose secret she had
+penetrated at the risk of her life. There were no secrets now. Was
+she happier? Now she felt that even in her early mystery there was
+delight, and that hope was veiled beneath its ominous shadow. There
+was now no future to ponder over; her hope was gone, and memory alone
+remained. All the dreams of those musing hours of her hidden reveries
+had been realised. She had seen that father, that surpassing parent,
+who had satisfied alike her heart and her imagination; she had been
+clasped to his bosom; she had lived to witness even her mother yield
+to his penitent embrace. And he too was gone; she could never meet him
+again in this world; in this world in which they had experienced such
+exquisite bliss; and now she was once more at Cherbury! Oh! give her
+back her girlhood, with all its painful mystery and harassing doubt!
+Give her again a future!
+
+She returned to the hall; she met George on the terrace, she welcomed
+him with a sweet, yet mournful smile. 'I have been very selfish,'
+she said, 'for I have been walking alone. I mean to introduce you to
+Cherbury, but I could not resist visiting some old spots.' Her voice
+faltered in these last words. They re-entered the terrace-room
+together, and joined her mother.
+
+'Nothing is changed, mamma,' said Venetia, in a more cheerful tone.
+'It is pleasant to find something that is the same.'
+
+Several days passed, and Lord Cadurcis evinced no desire to visit his
+inheritance. Yet Lady Annabel was anxious that he should do so, and
+had more than once impressed upon him the propriety. Even Venetia
+at length said to him, 'It is very selfish in us keeping you here,
+George. Your presence is a great consolation, and yet, yet, ought you
+not to visit your home?' She avoided the name of Cadurcis.
+
+'I ought, dear Venetia.' said George, 'and I will. I have promised
+Lady Annabel twenty times, but I feel a terrible disinclination.
+To-morrow, perhaps.'
+
+'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,' murmured Venetia to
+herself, 'I scarcely comprehend now what to-morrow means.' And then
+again addressing him, and with more liveliness, she said, 'We have
+only one friend in the world now, George, and I think that we ought to
+be very grateful that he is our neighbour.'
+
+'It is a consolation to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'for I cannot remain
+here, and otherwise I should scarcely know how to depart.'
+
+'I wish you would visit your home, if only for one morning,' said
+Venetia; 'if only to know how very near you are to us.'
+
+'I dread going alone,' said Lord Cadurcis. 'I cannot ask Lady Annabel
+to accompany me, because--' He hesitated.
+
+'Because?' inquired Venetia.
+
+'I cannot ask or wish her to leave you.'
+
+'You are always thinking of me, dear George,' said Venetia, artlessly.
+'I assure you, I have come back to Cherbury to be happy. I must visit
+your home some day, and I hope I shall visit it often. We will all go,
+soon,' she added.
+
+'Then I will postpone my visit to that day,' said George. 'I am in
+no humour for business, which I know awaits me there. Let me enjoy a
+little more repose at dear Cherbury.'
+
+'I have become very restless of late, I think,' said Venetia, 'but
+there is a particular spot in the garden that I wish to see. Come with
+me, George.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis was only too happy to attend her. They proceeded through
+a winding walk in the shrubberies until they arrived at a small
+and open plot of turf, where Venetia stopped. 'There are some
+associations,' she said, 'of this spot connected with both those
+friends that we have lost. I have a fancy that it should be in some
+visible manner consecrated to their memories. On this spot, George,
+Plantagenet once spoke to me of my father. I should like to raise
+their busts here; and indeed it is a fit place for such a purpose;
+for poets,' she added, faintly smiling, 'should be surrounded with
+laurels.'
+
+'I have some thoughts on this head that I am revolving in my fancy
+myself,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'but I will not speak of them now.'
+
+'Yes, now, George; for indeed it is a satisfaction for me to speak of
+them, at least with you, with one who understood them so well, and
+loved them scarcely less than I did.'
+
+George tenderly put his arm into hers and led her away. As they walked
+along, he explained to her his plans, which yet were somewhat crude,
+but which greatly interested her; but they were roused from their
+conversation by the bell of the hall sounding as if to summon them,
+and therefore they directed their way immediately to the terrace. A
+servant running met them; he brought a message from Lady Annabel.
+Their friend the Bishop of ---- had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+'Well, my little daughter,' said the good Masham, advancing as Venetia
+entered the room, and tenderly embracing her. The kind-hearted old man
+maintained a conversation on indifferent subjects with animation for
+some minutes; and thus a meeting, the anticipation of which would have
+cost Venetia hours of pain and anxiety, occurred with less uneasy
+feelings.
+
+Masham had hastened to Cherbury the moment he heard of the return of
+the Herberts to England. He did not come to console, but to enliven.
+He was well aware that even his eloquence, and all the influence of
+his piety, could not soften the irreparable past; and knowing, from
+experience, how in solitude the unhappy brood over sorrow, he fancied
+that his arrival, and perhaps his arrival only, might tend in some
+degree at this moment to their alleviation and comfort. He brought
+Lady Annabel and Venetia letters from their relations, with whom he
+had been staying at their country residence, and who were anxious that
+their unhappy kinsfolk should find change of scene under their roof.
+
+'They are very affectionate,' said Lady Annabel, 'but I rather think
+that neither Venetia nor myself feel inclined to quit Cherbury at
+present.'
+
+'Indeed not, mamma,' said Venetia. 'I hope we shall never leave home
+again.'
+
+'You must come and see me some day,' said the Bishop; then turning to
+George, whom he was glad to find here, he addressed him in a hearty
+tone, and expressed his delight at again meeting him.
+
+Insensibly to all parties this arrival of the good Masham exercised a
+beneficial influence on their spirits. They could sympathise with his
+cheerfulness, because they were convinced that he sympathised with
+their sorrow. His interesting conversation withdrew their minds from
+the painful subject on which they were always musing. It seemed
+profanation to either of the three mourners when they were together
+alone, to indulge in any topic but the absorbing one, and their utmost
+effort was to speak of the past with composure; but they all felt
+relieved, though at first unconsciously, when one, whose interest in
+their feelings could not be doubted, gave the signal of withdrawing
+their reflections from vicissitudes which it was useless to deplore.
+Even the social forms which the presence of a guest rendered
+indispensable, and the exercise of the courtesies of hospitality,
+contributed to this result. They withdrew their minds from the past.
+And the worthy Bishop, whose tact was as eminent as his good humour
+and benevolence, evincing as much delicacy of feeling as cheerfulness
+of temper, a very few days had elapsed before each of his companions
+was aware that his presence had contributed to their increased
+content.
+
+'You have not been to the abbey yet, Lord Cadurcis,' said Masham to
+him one day, as they were sitting together after dinner, the ladies
+having retired. 'You should go.'
+
+'I have been unwilling to leave them,' said George, 'and I could
+scarcely expect them to accompany me. It is a visit that must revive
+painful recollections.'
+
+'We must not dwell on the past,' said Masham; 'we must think only of
+the future.'
+
+'Venetia has no future, I fear,' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Why not?' said Masham; 'she is yet a girl, and with a prospect of a
+long life. She must have a future, and I hope, and I believe, it will
+yet be a happy one.'
+
+'Alas!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'no one can form an idea of the attachment
+that subsisted between Plantagenet and Venetia. They were not common
+feelings, or the feelings of common minds, my dear lord.'
+
+'No one knew them both better than I did,' said Masham, 'not even
+yourself: they were my children.'
+
+'I feel that,' said George, 'and therefore it is a pleasure to us all
+to see you, and to speak with you.'
+
+'But we must look for consolation,' said Masham; 'to deplore is
+fruitless. If we live, we must struggle to live happily. To tell you
+the truth, though their immediate return to Cherbury was inevitable,
+and their residence here for a time is scarcely to be deprecated, I
+still hope they will not bury themselves here. For my part, after the
+necessary interval, I wish to see Venetia once more in the world.'
+
+Lord Cadurcis looked very mournful, and shook his head.
+
+'As for her dear mother, she is habituated to sorrow and
+disappointment,' said Masham. 'As long as Venetia lives Lady Annabel
+will be content. Besides, deplorable as may be the past, there must be
+solace to her in the reflection that she was reconciled to her husband
+before his death, and contributed to his happiness. Venetia is the
+stricken lamb, but Venetia is formed for happiness, and it is in the
+nature of things that she will be happy. We must not, however, yield
+unnecessarily to our feelings. A violent exertion would be unwise, but
+we should habituate ourselves gradually to the exercise of our duties,
+and to our accustomed pursuits. It would be well for you to go to
+Cadurcis. If I were you I would go to-morrow. Take advantage of my
+presence, and return and give a report of your visit. Habituate
+Venetia to talk of a spot with which ultimately she must renew her
+intimacy.'
+
+Influenced by this advice, Lord Cadurcis rose early on the next
+morning and repaired to the seat of his fathers, where hitherto his
+foot had never trod. When the circle at Cherbury assembled at their
+breakfast table he was missing, and Masham had undertaken the office
+of apprising his friends of the cause of his absence. He returned to
+dinner, and the conversation fell naturally upon the abbey, and the
+impressions he had received. It was maintained at first by Lady
+Annabel and the Bishop, but Venetia ultimately joined in it, and with
+cheerfulness. Many a trait and incident of former days was alluded to;
+they talked of Mrs. Cadurcis, whom George had never seen; they settled
+the chambers he should inhabit; they mentioned the improvements
+which Plantagenet had once contemplated, and which George must now
+accomplish.
+
+'You must go to London first,' said the Bishop; 'you have a great deal
+to do, and you should not delay such business. I think you had better
+return with me. At this time of the year you need not be long absent;
+you will not be detained; and when you return, you will find yourself
+much more at ease; for, after all, nothing is more harassing than the
+feeling, that there is business which must be attended to, and which,
+nevertheless, is neglected.'
+
+Both Lady Annabel and Venetia enforced this advice of their friend;
+and so it happened that, ere a week had elapsed, Lord Cadurcis,
+accompanying Masham, found himself once more in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Venetia was now once more alone with her mother; it was as in old
+times. Their life was the same as before the visit of Plantagenet
+previous to his going to Cambridge, except indeed that they had no
+longer a friend at Marringhurst. They missed the Sabbath visits of
+that good man; for, though his successor performed the duties of the
+day, which had been a condition when he was presented to the living,
+the friend who knew all the secrets of their hearts was absent.
+Venetia continued to bear herself with great equanimity, and the
+anxiety which she observed instantly impressed on her mother's
+countenance, the moment she fancied there was unusual gloom on the
+brow of her child, impelled Venetia doubly to exert herself to appear
+resigned. And in truth, when Lady Annabel revolved in her mind the
+mournful past, and meditated over her early and unceasing efforts
+to secure the happiness of her daughter, and then contrasted her
+aspirations with the result, she could not acquit herself of having
+been too often unconsciously instrumental in forwarding a very
+different conclusion than that for which she had laboured. This
+conviction preyed upon the mother, and the slightest evidence of
+reaction in Venetia's tranquilised demeanour occasioned her the utmost
+remorse and grief. The absence of George made both Lady Annabel and
+Venetia still more finely appreciate the solace of his society. Left
+to themselves, they felt how much they had depended on his vigilant
+and considerate attention, and how much his sweet temper and his
+unfailing sympathy had contributed to their consolation. He wrote,
+however, to Venetia by every post, and his letters, if possible,
+endeared him still more to their hearts. Unwilling to dwell upon
+their mutual sorrows, yet always expressing sufficient to prove that
+distance and absence had not impaired his sympathy, he contrived, with
+infinite delicacy, even to amuse their solitude with the adventures of
+his life of bustle. The arrival of the post was the incident of the
+day; and not merely letters arrived; one day brought books, another
+music; continually some fresh token of his thought and affection
+reached them. He was, however, only a fortnight absent; but when he
+returned, it was to Cadurcis. He called upon them the next day, and
+indeed every morning found him at Cherbury; but he returned to his
+home at night; and so, without an effort, from their guest he had
+become their neighbour.
+
+Plantagenet had left the whole of his property to his cousin: his
+mother's fortune, which, as an accessory fund, was not inconsiderable,
+besides the estate. And George intended to devote a portion of this to
+the restoration of the abbey. Venetia was to be his counsellor in this
+operation, and therefore there were ample sources of amusement for the
+remainder of the year. On a high ridge, which was one of the beacons
+of the county, and which, moreover, marked the junction of the domains
+of Cherbury and Cadurcis, it was his intention to raise a monument to
+the united memories of Marmion Herbert and Plantagenet Lord Cadurcis.
+He brought down a design with him from London, and this was the
+project which he had previously whispered to Venetia. With George for
+her companion, too, Venetia was induced to resume her rides. It was
+her part to make him acquainted with the county in which he was so
+important a resident. Time therefore, at Cherbury, on the whole,
+flowed on in a tide of tranquil pleasure; and Lady Annabel observed,
+with interest and fondness, the continual presence beneath her roof
+of one who, from the first day she had met him, had engaged her kind
+feelings, and had since become intimately endeared to her.
+
+The end of November was, however, now approaching, and Parliament
+was about to reassemble. Masham had written more than once to Lord
+Cadurcis, impressing upon him the propriety and expediency of taking
+his seat. He had shown these letters, as he showed everything, to
+Venetia, who was his counsellor on all subjects, and Venetia agreed
+with their friend.
+
+'It is right,' said Venetia; 'you have a duty to perform, and you must
+perform it. Besides, I do not wish the name of Cadurcis to sink again
+into obscurity. I shall look forward with interest to Lord Cadurcis
+taking the oaths and his seat. It will please me; it will indeed.'
+
+'But Venetia,' said George, 'I do not like to leave this place. I am
+happy, if we may be happy. This life suits me. I am a quiet man. I
+dislike London. I feel alone there.'
+
+'You can write to us; you will have a great deal to say. And I shall
+have something to say to you now. I must give you a continual report
+how they go on at the abbey. I will be your steward, and superintend
+everything.'
+
+'Ah!' said George, 'what shall I do in London without you, without
+your advice? There will be something occurring every day, and I shall
+have no one to consult. Indeed I shall feel quite miserable; I shall
+indeed.'
+
+'It is quite impossible that, with your station, and at your time of
+life, you should bury yourself in the country,' said Venetia. 'You
+have the whole world before you, and you must enjoy it. It is very
+well for mamma and myself to lead this life. I look upon ourselves as
+two nuns. If Cadurcis is an abbey, Cherbury is now a convent.'
+
+'How can a man wish to be more than happy? I am quite content here,'
+said George, 'What is London to me?'
+
+'It may be a great deal to you, more than you think,' said Venetia. 'A
+great deal awaits you yet. However, there can be no doubt you should
+take your seat. You can always return, if you wish. But take your
+seat, and cultivate dear Masham. I have the utmost confidence in his
+wisdom and goodness. You cannot have a friend more respectable. Now
+mind my advice, George.'
+
+'I always do, Venetia.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Time and Faith are the great consolers, and neither of these precious
+sources of solace were wanting to the inhabitants of Cherbury. They
+were again living alone, but their lives were cheerful; and if Venetia
+no longer indulged in a worldly and blissful future, nevertheless, in
+the society of her mother, in the resources of art and literature, in
+the diligent discharge of her duties to her humble neighbours, and in
+cherishing the memory of the departed, she experienced a life that was
+not without its tranquil pleasures. She maintained with Lord Cadurcis
+a constant correspondence; he wrote to her every day, and although
+they were separated, there was not an incident of his life, and
+scarcely a thought, of which she was not cognisant. It was with great
+difficulty that George could induce himself to remain in London; but
+Masham, who soon obtained over him all the influence which Venetia
+desired, ever opposed his return to the abbey. The good Bishop was not
+unaware of the feelings with which Lord Cadurcis looked back to the
+hall of Cherbury, and himself of a glad and sanguine temperament, he
+indulged in a belief in the consummation of all that happiness for
+which his young friend, rather sceptically, sighed. But Masham was
+aware that time could alone soften the bitterness of Venetia's sorrow,
+and prepare her for that change of life which he felt confident
+would alone ensure the happiness both of herself and her mother. He
+therefore detained Lord Cadurcis in London the whole of the sessions
+that, on his return to Cherbury, his society might be esteemed a novel
+and agreeable incident in the existence of its inhabitants, and not be
+associated merely with their calamities.
+
+It was therefore about a year after the catastrophe which had so
+suddenly changed the whole tenor of their lives, and occasioned so
+unexpected a revolution in his own position, that Lord Cadurcis
+arrived at his ancestral seat, with no intention of again speedily
+leaving it. He had long and frequently apprised his friends of his
+approaching presence, And, arriving at the abbey late at night, he was
+at Cherbury early on the following morning.
+
+Although no inconsiderable interval had elapsed since Lord Cadurcis
+had parted from the Herberts, the continual correspondence that had
+been maintained between himself and Venetia, divested his visit of the
+slightest embarrassment. They met as if they had parted yesterday,
+except perhaps with greater fondness. The chain of their feelings
+was unbroken. He was indeed welcomed, both by Lady Annabel and her
+daughter, with warm affection; and his absence had only rendered him
+dearer to them by affording an opportunity of feeling how much his
+society contributed to their felicity. Venetia was anxious to know his
+opinion of the improvements at the abbey, which she had superintended;
+but he assured her that he would examine nothing without her company,
+and ultimately they agreed to walk over to Cadurcis.
+
+It was a summer day, and they walked through that very wood wherein
+we described the journey of the child Venetia, at the commencement
+of this very history. The blue patches of wild hyacinths had all
+disappeared, but there were flowers as sweet. What if the first
+feelings of our heart fade, like the first flowers of spring,
+succeeding years, like the coming summer, may bring emotions not less
+charming, and, perchance, far more fervent!
+
+'I can scarcely believe,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I am once more
+with you. I know not what surprises me most, Venetia, that we should
+be walking once more together in the woods of Cherbury, or that I ever
+should have dared to quit them.'
+
+'And yet it was better, dear George,' said Venetia. 'You must now
+rejoice that you have fulfilled your duty, and yet you are here again.
+Besides, the abbey never would have been finished if you had remained.
+To complete all our plans, it required a mistress.'
+
+'I wish it always had one,' said George. 'Ah, Venetia! once you told
+me never to despair.'
+
+'And what have you to despair about, George?'
+
+'Heigh ho!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I never shall be able to live in this
+abbey alone.'
+
+'You should have brought a wife from London,' said Venetia.
+
+'I told you once, Venetia, that I was not a marrying man,' said Lord
+Cadurcis; 'and certainly I never shall bring a wife from London.'
+
+'Then you cannot accustom yourself too soon to a bachelor's life,'
+said Venetia.
+
+'Ah, Venetia!' said George, 'I wish I were clever; I wish I were a
+genius; I wish I were a great man.'
+
+'Why, George?'
+
+'Because, Venetia, perhaps,' and Lord Cadurcis hesitated, 'perhaps you
+would think differently of me? I mean perhaps your feelings towards me
+might; ah, Venetia! perhaps you might think me worthy of you; perhaps
+you might love me.'
+
+'I am sure, dear George, if I did not love you, I should be the most
+ungrateful of beings: you are our only friend.'
+
+'And can I never be more than a friend to you, Venetia?' said Lord
+Cadurcis, blushing very deeply.
+
+'I am sure, dear George, I should be very sorry for your sake, if you
+wished to be more,' said Venetia.
+
+'Why?' said Lord Cadurcis.
+
+'Because I should not like to see you unite your destiny with that of
+a very unfortunate, if not a very unhappy, person.'
+
+'The sweetest, the loveliest of women!' said Lord Cadurcis. 'O
+Venetia! I dare not express what I feel, still less what I could hope.
+I think so little of myself, so highly of you, that I am convinced my
+aspirations are too arrogant for me to breathe them.'
+
+'Ah! dear George, you deserve to be happy,' said Venetia. 'Would that
+it were in my power to make you!'
+
+'Dearest Venetia! it is, it is,' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis; then
+checking himself, as if frightened by his boldness, he added in a more
+subdued tone, 'I feel I am not worthy of you.'
+
+They stood upon the breezy down that divided the demesnes of Cherbury
+and the abbey. Beneath them rose, 'embosomed in a valley of green
+bowers,' the ancient pile lately renovated under the studious care of
+Venetia.
+
+'Ah!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'be not less kind to the master of these
+towers, than to the roof that you have fostered. You have renovated
+our halls, restore our happiness! There is an union that will bring
+consolation to more than one hearth, and baffle all the crosses of
+adverse fate. Venetia, beautiful and noble-minded Venetia, condescend
+to fulfil it!'
+
+Perhaps the reader will not be surprised that, within a few months of
+this morning walk, the hands of George, Lord Cadurcis, and Venetia
+Herbert were joined in the chapel at Cherbury by the good Masham.
+Peace be with them.
+
+
+
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