The air was scented with the violet, tufts of daffodils were
scattered all about, and though the snowdrop had vanished, and the
primroses were fast disappearing, their wild and shaggy leaves still
looked picturesque and glad.
'Mamma,' said the little Venetia, 'is this spring?'
'This is spring, my child,' replied Lady Annabel, 'beautiful spring!
The year is young and happy, like my little girl.'
'If Venetia be like the spring, mamma is like the summer!' replied the
child; and the mother smiled. 'And is not the summer young and happy?'
resumed Venetia.
'It is not quite so young as the spring,' said Lady Annabel, looking
down with fondness on her little companion, 'and, I fear, not quite so
happy.'
'But it is as beautiful,' said Venetia.
'It is not beauty that makes us happy,' said Lady Annabel; 'to be
happy, my love, we must be good.'
'Am I good?' said Venetia.
'Very good,' said Lady Annabel
'I am very happy,' said Venetia; 'I wonder whether, if I be always
good, I shall always be happy?'
'You cannot be happy without being good, my love; but happiness
depends upon the will of God. If you be good he will guard over you.'
'What can make me unhappy, mamma?' inquired Venetia.
'An evil conscience, my love.'
'Conscience!' said Venetia: 'what is conscience?'
'You are not yet quite old enough to understand,' said Lady Annabel,
'but some day I will teach you.
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