to his breast,
and in a voice stifled with emotion, 'I feel now we might have been
happy!'

In the meantime the prolonged absence of her daughter surprised
Lady Annabel. At length she rose, and walked into their adjoining
apartment, but to her surprise Venetia was not there. Returning to her
saloon, she found Pauncefort and the waiter arranging the table for
dinner.

'Where is Miss Herbert, Pauncefort?' inquired Lady Annabel.

'I am sure, my lady, I cannot say. I have no doubt she is in the other
room.'

'She is not there, for I have just quitted it,' replied Lady Annabel.
'How very strange! You have not seen the signora?' inquired Lady
Annabel of the waiter.

'The signora is in the room with the gentleman.'

'The gentleman!' exclaimed Lady Annabel. 'Tell me, good man, what do
you mean? I am inquiring for my daughter.'

'I know well the signora is talking of her daughter,' replied the
waiter.

'But do you know my daughter by sight? Surely you you must mean some
one else.'

'Do I know the signora's daughter?' said the waiter. 'The beautiful
young lady, with hair like Santa Marguerita, in the church of the Holy
Trinity! I tell the signora, I saw her carried into numero 4, in the
arms of the Signor Forestiere, who arrived this morning.'

'Venetia is ill,' said Lady Annabel. 'Show me to the room, my friend.'

Lady Annabel accordingly, with a hurried step, following her guide,
quitted the chamber. Pauncefort remained fixed to the earth, the very
picture of perplexity.

'Well, to be sure!' she exclaimed, 'was anything ever so strange! In
the arms of Signor Forestiere! Forestiere. An English name. There is
no person of the name of Forest that I know. And in his arms, too! I
should not wonder if it was my lord after all. Well, I should be glad
if he were to come to light again, for, after all, my lady may say
what she likes, but if Miss Venetia don't marry Lord Cadurcis, I must
say marriages were never made in heaven!'

CHAPTER V.

The waiter threw open the door of Mr. Herbert's chamber, and Lady
Annabel swept in with a majesty she generally assumed when about to
meet strangers. The first thing she beheld was her daughter in
the arms of a man whose head was bent, and who was embracing her.
Notwithstanding this astounding spectacle, Lady Annabel neither
started nor screamed; she only said in an audible tone, and one rather
expressing astonishment than agitation, 'Venetia!'

Immediately the stranger