Under the influence
of daily intercourse, his tender heart had balanced, perhaps even
outweighed, his fiery imagination. That constant yet delicate
affection had softened all his soul: he had no time but to be grateful
and to love. He returned home only to muse over their sweet society,
and contrast their refined and gentle life with the harsh rude hearth
that awaited him. Whatever might be his reception at home, he was
thrown, back for solace on their memory, not upon his own heart; and
he felt the delightful conviction that to-morrow would renew the spell
whose enchantment had enabled him to endure the present vexation. But
now the magic of that intercourse had ceased; after a few days of
restlessness and repining, he discovered that he must find in his
desolation sterner sources of support than the memory of Venetia, and
the recollections of the domestic joys of Cherbury. It astonishing
with what rapidity the character of Cadurcis developed itself in
solitude; and strange was the contrast between the gentle child who,
a few weeks before, had looked forward with so much interest to
accompanying Venetia to a childish festival, and the stern and moody
being who paced the solitary cloisters of Cadurcis, and then would
withdraw to his lonely chamber and the amusement of a book.
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