be ascribed to some great mental
shock which her daughter had received, and which suddenly had affected
her circulation; leaving it, after this formal intimation, entirely to
the mother to take those steps in reference to the cause, whatever it
might be, which she should deem expedient.

In the evening, Lady Annabel stole down for a few moments to Dr.
Masham, laden with joyful intelligence; assured of the safety of her
child, and, what was still more precious, of her heart, and even
voluntarily promising her friend that she should herself sleep
this night in her daughter's chamber, on the sofa-bed. The Doctor,
therefore, now bade her adieu, and said that he should ride over from
Marringhurst every day, to hear how their patient was proceeding.

From this time, the recovery of Venetia, though slow, was gradual. She
experienced no relapse, and in a few weeks quitted her bed. She was
rather surprised at her altered appearance when it first met her
glance in the mirror, but scarcely made any observation on the loss of
her locks. During this interval, the mind of Venetia had been quite
dormant; the rage of the fever, and the violent remedies to which it
had been necessary to have recourse, had so exhausted her, that she
had not energy enough to think. All that she felt was a strange
indefinite conviction that some occurrence had taken place with which
her memory could not grapple. But as her strength returned, and as she
gradually resumed her usual health, by proportionate though almost
invisible degrees her memory returned to her, and her intelligence.
She clearly recollected and comprehended what had taken place. She
recalled the past, compared incidents, weighed circumstances, sifted
and balanced the impressions that now crowded upon her consciousness.
It is difficult to describe each link in the metaphysical chain which
at length connected the mind of Venetia Herbert with her actual
experience and precise situation. It was, however, at length perfect,
and gradually formed as she sat in an invalid chair, apparently
listless, not yet venturing on any occupation, or occasionally amused
for a moment by her mother reading to her. But when her mind had thus
resumed its natural tone, and in time its accustomed vigour, the past
demanded all her solicitude. At length the mystery of her birth was
revealed to her. She was the daughter of Marmion Herbert; and who was
Marmion Herbert? The portrait rose before her. How distinct was t