hose he loved,
there was in his soul a deep and unfathomed well of passions that had
been never stirred, and a bitter and mocking spirit in his brain, of
which he was himself unconscious. He had repaired this hopeful morn to
Cherbury to receive, as he believed, the plighted faith of a simple
and affectionate, perhaps grateful, girl. That her unsophisticated and
untutored spirit might not receive the advances of his heart with an
equal and corresponding ardour, he was prepared. It pleased him
that he should watch the gradual development of this bud of sweet
affections, waiting, with proud anxiety, her fragrant and her
full-blown love. But now it appeared that her coldness or her
indifference might be ascribed to any other cause than the one to
which he had attributed it, the innocence of an inexperienced mind.
This girl was no stranger to powerful passions; she could love, and
love with fervency, with devotion, with enthusiasm. This child of joy
was a woman of deep and thoughtful sorrows, brooding in solitude over
high resolves and passionate aspirations. Why were not the emotions
of such a tumultuous soul excited by himself? To him she was calm and
imperturbable; she called him brother, she treated him as a child. But
a picture, a fantastic shade, could raise in her a tempestuous swell
of sentiment that transformed her whole mind, and changed the colour
of all her hopes and thoughts. Deeply prejudiced against her father,
Cadurcis now hated him, and with a fell and ferocious earnestness that
few bosoms but his could prove. Pale with rage, he ground his teeth
and watched her with a glance of sarcastic aversion.

'You led me here to listen to a communication which interested me,' he
at length said. 'Have I heard it?'

His altered tone, the air of haughtiness which he assumed, were
not lost upon Venetia. She endeavoured to collect herself, but she
hesitated to reply.

'I repeat my inquiry,' said Cadurcis. 'Have you brought me here only
to inform me that you have a father, and that you adore him, or his
picture?'

'I led you here,' replied Venetia, in a subdued tone, and looking on
the ground, 'to thank you for your love, and to confess to you that I
love another.'

'Love another!' exclaimed Cadurcis, in a tone of derision. Simpleton!
The best thing your mother can do is to lock you up in the chamber
with the picture that has produced such marvellous effects.'

'I am no simpleton, Plantagenet,' rejoined Venetia, quie