igence, the gladsome time of day,
and the non-arrival of Captain Cadurcis, which according to their mood
was always a circumstance that counted either for good or for evil,
and the sanguine feelings which make us always cling to hope,
altogether reassured our friends. Venetia dismissed from her mind the
dark thought which for a moment had haunted her in the noon of night;
and still it was a suspense, a painful, agitating suspense, but only
suspense that yet influenced them.

'Time! said Lady Annabel. 'Time! we must wait.'

Venetia consoled her mother; she affected even a gaiety of spirit;
she was sure that Vicenzo would turn out to be right, after all;
Pauncefort said he always was right, and that they were at Leghorn.

The day wore apace; the noon arrived and passed; it was even
approaching sunset. Lady Annabel was almost afraid to counterorder the
usual meals, lest Venetia should comprehend her secret terror; the
very same sentiment influenced Venetia. Thus they both had submitted
to the ceremony of breakfast, but when the hour of dinner approached
they could neither endure the mockery. They looked at each other, and
almost at the same time they proposed that, instead of dining, they
should walk down to the bay.

'I trust we shall at least hear something before the night,' said Lady
Annabel. 'I confess I dread the coming night. I do not think I could
endure it.'

'The longer we do not hear, the more certain I am of their being at
Leghorn,' said Venetia.

'I have a great mind to travel there to-night,' said Lady Annabel.

As they were stepping into the portico, Venetia recognised Captain
Cadurcis in the distance. She turned pale; she would have fallen had
she not leaned on her mother, who was not so advanced, and who had not
seen him.

'What is the matter, Venetia!' said Lady Annabel, alarmed.

'He is here, he is here!'

'Marmion?'

'No, George. Let me sit down.'

Her mother tried to support her to a chair. Lady Annabel took off her
bonnet. She had not strength to walk forth. She could not speak. She
sat down opposite Venetia, and her countenance pictured distress to so
painful a degree, that at any other time Venetia would have flown to
her, but in this crisis of suspense it was impossible. George was in
sight; he was in the portico; he was in the room.

He looked wan, haggard, and distracted. More than once he essayed to
speak, but failed.

Lady Annabel looked at him with a strange, delirious expre