wish,' he said, after a little hesitation,
'if only for "Auld lang syne," I might include Lady Annabel Herbert
among them.'

'I do not think there is any basis for friendship between us, my
lord,' she said, very dryly.

'The past must ever be with me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'and I should
have thought a sure and solid one.'

'Our opinions on all subjects are so adverse, that I must believe that
there could be no great sympathy in our feelings.'

'My feelings are beyond my control,' he replied; 'they are, and must
ever be, totally independent of my opinions.'

Lady Annabel did not reply. His lordship felt baffled, but he was
resolved to make one more effort.

'Do you know,' he said, 'I can scarcely believe myself in London
to-day? To be sitting next to you, to see Miss Herbert, to hear Dr.
Masham's voice. Oh! does it not recall Cherbury, or Marringhurst, or
that day at Cadurcis, when you were so good as to smile over my rough
repast? Ah! Lady Annabel, those days were happy! those were feelings
that can never die! All the glitter and hubbub of the world can never
make me forget them, can never make you, I hope, Lady Annabel, quite
recall them with an effort. We were friends then: let us be friends
now.'

'I am too old to cultivate new friendships,' said Lady Annabel; 'and
if we are to be friends, Lord Cadurcis, I am sorry to say that, after
the interval that has occurred since we last parted, we should have to
begin again.'

'It is a long time,' said Cadurcis, mournfully, 'a very long time, and
one, in spite of what the world may think, to which I cannot look back
with any self-congratulation. I wished three years ago never to leave
Cadurcis again. Indeed I did; and indeed it was not my fault that I
quitted it.'

'It was no one's fault, I hope. Whatever the cause may have been, I
have ever remained quite ignorant of it. I wished, and wish, to
remain ignorant of it. I, for one, have ever considered it the wise
dispensation of a merciful Providence.'

Cadurcis ground his teeth; a dark look came over him which, when
once it rose on his brow, was with difficulty dispelled; and for the
remainder of the dinner he continued silent and gloomy.

He was, however, not unobserved by Venetia. She had watched his
evident attempts to conciliate her mother with lively interest; she
had witnessed their failure with sincere sorrow. In spite of that
stormy interview, the results of which, in his hasty departure, and
the severa