hes
of neighbouring trees swung with a sudden yet melancholy sound against
the windows of the apartment, of which the curtains had remained
undrawn. Venetia looked up; the room would have been in perfect
darkness but for a glimmer which just indicated the site of the
expiring fire, and an uncertain light, or rather modified darkness,
that seemed the sky. Alone and desolate! Alone and desolate and
unhappy! Alone and desolate and unhappy, and for the first time! Was
it a sigh, or a groan, that issued from the stifling heart of Venetia
Herbert? That child of innocence, that bright emanation of love and
beauty, that airy creature of grace and gentleness, who had never said
an unkind word or done an unkind thing in her whole career, but had
glanced and glided through existence, scattering happiness and
joy, and receiving the pleasure which she herself imparted, how
overwhelming was her first struggle with that dark stranger, Sorrow!

Some one entered the room; it was Mistress Pauncefort. She held a
taper in her hand, and came tripping gingerly in, with a new cap
streaming with ribands, and scarcely, as it were, condescending to
execute the mission with which she was intrusted, which was no greater
than fetching her lady's reticule. She glanced at the table, but it
was not there; she turned up her nose at a chair or two, which she
even condescended to propel a little with a saucy foot, as if the
reticule might be hid under the hanging drapery, and then, unable to
find the object of her search, Mistress Pauncefort settled herself
before the glass, elevating the taper above her head, that she might
observe what indeed she had been examining the whole day, the effect
of her new cap. With a complacent simper, Mistress Pauncefort then
turned from pleasure to business, and, approaching the couch, gave
a faint shriek, half genuine, half affected, as she recognised the
recumbent form of her young mistress. 'Well to be sure,' exclaimed
Mistress Pauncefort, 'was the like ever seen! Miss Venetia, as I live!
La! Miss Venetia, what can be the matter? I declare I am all of a
palpitation.'

Venetia, affecting composure, said she was rather unwell; that she
had a headache, and, rising, murmured that she would go to bed. 'A
headache!' exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort, 'I hope no worse, for there
is my lady, and she is as out of sorts as possible. She has a headache
too; and when I shut the door just now, I am sure as quiet as a lamb,
she told