g 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