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