etia?'

'Life has brought sorrows even to me, Plantagenet.'

The blood deserted his heart when she called him Plantagenet; he
breathed with difficulty.

'When I last returned to Cherbury,' he said, 'you told me you were
changed, Venetia; you revealed to me on another occasion the secret
cause of your affliction. I was a boy then, a foolish ignorant boy.
Instead of sympathising with your heartfelt anxiety, my silly vanity
was offended by feelings I should have shared, and soothed, and
honoured. Ah, Venetia! well had it been for one of us that I had
conducted myself more kindly, more wisely.'

'Nay, Plantagenet, believe me, I remember that interview only to
regret it. The recollection of it has always occasioned me great
grief. We were both to blame; but we were both children then. We must
pardon each other's faults.'

'You will hear, that is, if you care to listen, Venetia, much of my
conduct and opinions,' continued Lord Cadurcis, 'that may induce you
to believe me headstrong and capricious. Perhaps I am less of both in
all things than the world imagines. But of this be certain, that my
feelings towards you have never changed, whatever you may permit them
to be; and if some of my boyish judgments have, as was but natural,
undergone some transformation, be you, my sweet friend, in some degree
consoled for the inconsistency, since I have at length learned duly to
appreciate one of whom we then alike knew little, but whom a natural
inspiration taught you, at least, justly to appreciate: I need not say
I mean the illustrious father of your being.'

Venetia could not restrain her tears; she endeavoured to conceal her
agitated countenance behind the fan with which she was fortunately
provided.

'To me a forbidden subject,' said Venetia, 'at least with them I could
alone converse upon it, but one that my mind never deserts.'

'O Venetia!' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis with a sigh, 'would we were both
with him!'

'A wild thought,' she murmured, 'and one I must not dwell upon.'

'We shall meet, I hope,' said Lord Cadurcis; 'we must meet, meet
often. I called upon your mother to-day, fruitlessly. You must attempt
to conciliate her. Why should we be parted? We, at least, are friends,
and more than friends. I cannot exist unless we meet, and meet with
the frankness of old days.'

'I think you mistake mamma; I think you may, indeed. Remember how
lately she has met you, and after how long an interval! A little time,
and she