r, 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 ch