er was like your aunt,' he continued.
It was an observation which was not heard without some emotion by his
companion, though it was imperceptible. 'Venetia,' said Cadurcis,
'when I recollect old days, how strange it seems that we now never
should be alone, but by some mere accident, like this, for instance.'

'It is no use thinking of old days,' said Venetia.

'No use! said Cadurcis. 'I do not like to hear you say that, Venetia.
Those are some of the least agreeable words that were ever uttered
by that mouth. I cling to old days; they are my only joy and my only
hope.'

'They are gone,' said Venetia.

'But may they not return?' said Cadurcis.

'Never,' said Venetia, mournfully.

They had walked on to a marble fountain of gigantic proportions and
elaborate workmanship, an assemblage of divinities and genii, all
spouting water in fantastic attitudes.

'Old days,' said Plantagenet, 'are like the old fountain at Cadurcis,
dearer to me than all this modern splendour.'

'The old fountain at Cadurcis,' said Venetia, musingly, and gazing on
the water with an abstracted air, 'I loved it well!'

'Venetia,' said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yet
not untouched with melancholy, 'dear Venetia, let us return, and
return together, to that old fountain and those old days!'

Venetia shook her head. 'Ah, Plantagenet!' she exclaimed in a mournful
voice, 'we must not speak of these things.'

'Why not, Venetia?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Why should we
be estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; never
have I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthful
affection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank.'

'I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged,' said Venetia.

'Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury,' said
Cadurcis. 'Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging the
same. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now an
obscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charm
of my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?'

'Plantagenet,' she replied, in a solemn tone, 'yours I never can be.'

'You do not, then, love me?' said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in a
voice of great feeling.

'It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you,' said
Venetia.

'My own Venetia!' said Cadurcis; 'Venetia that I dote on! what does
this mean? Why, then, will you not be m