e, 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 vi