eem your decision as a signal
interposition of Providence in your favour. Except his extreme youth,
there was apparently no reason which should not have induced you to
adopt a different decision. I tremble when I think what might have
been the consequences.'

'Tremble, dearest mother?'

'Tremble, Venetia. My only thought in this life is the happiness of my
child. It was in peril.

'Nay, I trust not that, mamma: you are prejudiced against Plantagenet.
It makes me very unhappy, and him also.'

'He is again your suitor?' said Lady Annabel, with a scrutinising
glance.

'Indeed he is not.'

'He will be,' said Lady Annabel. 'Prepare yourself. Tell me, then, are
your feelings the same towards him as when he last quitted us?'

'Feelings, mamma!' said Venetia, echoing her mother's words; for
indeed the question was one very difficult to answer; 'I ever loved
Plantagenet; I love him still.'

'But do you love him now as then? Then you looked upon him as a
brother. He has no soul now for sisterly affections. I beseech you
tell me, my child, me, your mother, your friend, your best, your only
friend, tell me, have you for a moment repented that you ever refused
to extend to him any other affection?'

'I have not thought of the subject, mamma; I have not wished to think
of the subject; I have had no occasion to think of it. Lord Cadurcis
is not my suitor now.'

'Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, 'I cannot doubt you love me.'

'Dearest mother!' exclaimed Venetia, in a tone of mingled fondness and
reproach, and she rose from her seat and embraced Lady Annabel.

'My happiness is an object to you, Venetia?' continued Lady Annabel.

'Mother, mother,' said Venetia, in a deprecatory tone. 'Do not ask
such cruel questions? Whom should I love but you, the best, the
dearest mother that ever existed? And what object can I have in life
that for a moment can be placed in competition with your happiness?'

'Then, Venetia, I tell you,' said Lady Annabel, in a solemn yet
excited voice, 'that that happiness is gone for ever, nay, my very
life will be the forfeit, if I ever live to see you the bride of Lord
Cadurcis.'

'I have no thought of being the bride of any one,' said Venetia. 'I am
happy with you. I wish never to leave you.'

'My child, the fulfilment of such a wish is not in the nature of
things,' replied Lady Annabel. 'The day will come when we must part;
I am prepared for the event; nay, I look forward to it not only with
res