her mind to great exertion. Yet now that she held the letter, she
could not command herself sufficiently to read it. Her breath deserted
her; her hand lost its power; she could not even open the lines on
which perhaps her life depended. Suddenly, with a rapid effort, she
glanced at the contents. The blood returned to her check; her eye
became bright with excitement; she gasped for breath; she advanced to
Lady Annabel. 'Ah! mother,' she exclaimed, 'you will grant all that it
desires!'

Still gazing on the wave that laved the shore of the island with an
almost inperceptible ripple, Lady Annabel continued silent.

'Mother,' said Venetia, 'my beloved mother, you hesitate.' She
approached Lady Annabel, and with one arm round her neck, she grasped
with the other her mother's hand. 'I implore you, by all that
affection which you lavish on me, yield to this supplication. O
mother! dearest mother! it has been my hope that my life has been at
least a life of duty; I have laboured to yield to all your wishes.
I have struggled to make their fulfilment the law of my being. Yes!
mother, your memory will assure you, that when the sweetest emotions
of my heart were the stake, you appealed to me to sacrifice them, and
they were dedicated to your will. Have I ever murmured? I have sought
only to repay your love by obedience. Speak to me, dearest mother! I
implore you speak to me! Tell me, can you ever repent relenting in
this instance? O mother! you will not hesitate; you will not indeed;
you will bring joy and content to our long-harassed hearth! Tell me
so; I beseech you tell me so! I wish, oh! how I wish, that you would
comply from the mere impulse of your own heart! But, grant that it
is a sacrifice; grant that it may be unwise; that it may be vain; I
supplicate you to make it! I, your child, who never deserted you, who
will never desert you, pledging my faith to you in the face of heaven;
for my sake, I supplicate you to make it. You do not hesitate; you
cannot hesitate; mother, you cannot hesitate. Ah! you would not if you
knew all; if you knew all the misery of my life, you would be glad;
you would be cheerful; you would look upon this as an interposition of
Providence in favour of your Venetia; you would, indeed, dear mother!'

'What evil fortune guided our steps to Italy?' said Lady Annabel in a
solemn tone, and as if in soliloquy.

'No, no, mother; not evil fortune; fortune the best and brightest,'
exclaimed her daughter,