phemous: 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