hat perfect,
even the least graceful, the most repulsive home, had its irresistible
charms; and its loss, when once experienced, might be mourned for
ever, and could never be restored.

CHAPTER XIX.

After the funeral of Mrs. Cadurcis, the family returned to Cherbury
with Plantagenet, who was hereafter to consider it his home. All that
the most tender solicitude could devise to reconcile him to the change
in his life was fulfilled by Lady Annabel and her daughter, and, under
their benignant influence, he soon regained his usual demeanour. His
days were now spent as in the earlier period of their acquaintance,
with the exception of those painful returns to home, which had once
been a source to him of so much gloom and unhappiness. He pursued his
studies as of old, and shared the amusements of Venetia. His allotted
room was ornamented by her drawings, and in the evenings they read
aloud by turns to Lady Annabel the volume which she selected. The
abbey he never visited again after his mother's funeral.

Some weeks had passed in this quiet and contented manner, when one
day Doctor Masham, who, since the death of his mother, had been
in correspondence with his guardian, received a letter from that
nobleman, to announce that he had made arrangements for sending his
ward to Eton, and to request that he would accordingly instantly
proceed to the metropolis. This announcement occasioned both Cadurcis
and Venetia poignant affliction. The idea of separation was to both
of them most painful; and although Lady Annabel herself was in
some degree prepared for an arrangement, which sooner or later she
considered inevitable, she was herself scarcely less distressed.
The good Doctor, in some degree to break the bitterness of parting,
proposed accompanying Plantagenet to London, and himself personally
delivering the charge, in whose welfare they were so much interested,
to his guardian. Nevertheless, it was a very sad affair, and the week
which was to intervene before his departure found both himself and
Venetia often in tears. They no longer took any delight in their
mutual studies but passed the day walking about and visiting old
haunts, and endeavouring to console each other for what they both
deemed a great calamity, and which was indeed, the only serious
misfortune Venetia had herself experienced in the whole course of her
serene career.

'But if I were really your brother,' said Plantagenet, 'I must have
quitted you th