.

Among these woods, too, had Venetia first mused over her father;
before her rose those mysterious chambers, whose secret she had
penetrated at the risk of her life. There were no secrets now. Was
she happier? Now she felt that even in her early mystery there was
delight, and that hope was veiled beneath its ominous shadow. There
was now no future to ponder over; her hope was gone, and memory alone
remained. All the dreams of those musing hours of her hidden reveries
had been realised. She had seen that father, that surpassing parent,
who had satisfied alike her heart and her imagination; she had been
clasped to his bosom; she had lived to witness even her mother yield
to his penitent embrace. And he too was gone; she could never meet him
again in this world; in this world in which they had experienced such
exquisite bliss; and now she was once more at Cherbury! Oh! give her
back her girlhood, with all its painful mystery and harassing doubt!
Give her again a future!

She returned to the hall; she met George on the terrace, she welcomed
him with a sweet, yet mournful smile. 'I have been very selfish,'
she said, 'for I have been walking alone. I mean to introduce you to
Cherbury, but I could not resist visiting some old spots.' Her voice
faltered in these last words. They re-entered the terrace-room
together, and joined her mother.

'Nothing is changed, mamma,' said Venetia, in a more cheerful tone.
'It is pleasant to find something that is the same.'

Several days passed, and Lord Cadurcis evinced no desire to visit his
inheritance. Yet Lady Annabel was anxious that he should do so, and
had more than once impressed upon him the propriety. Even Venetia
at length said to him, 'It is very selfish in us keeping you here,
George. Your presence is a great consolation, and yet, yet, ought you
not to visit your home?' She avoided the name of Cadurcis.

'I ought, dear Venetia.' said George, 'and I will. I have promised
Lady Annabel twenty times, but I feel a terrible disinclination.
To-morrow, perhaps.'

'To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,' murmured Venetia to
herself, 'I scarcely comprehend now what to-morrow means.' And then
again addressing him, and with more liveliness, she said, 'We have
only one friend in the world now, George, and I think that we ought to
be very grateful that he is our neighbour.'

'It is a consolation to me,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'for I cannot remain
here, and otherwise I should scarcely