Could it be still the
recollection of her lost sire? Could one so religious, so resigned,
so assured of meeting the lost one in a better world, brood with a
repining soul over the will of her Creator? Such conduct was entirely
at variance with all the tenets of Lady Annabel. It was not thus she
consoled the bereaved, that she comforted the widow, and solaced the
orphan. Venetia, too, observed everything and forgot nothing. Not an
incident of her earliest childhood that was not as fresh in her memory
as if it had occurred yesterday. Her memory was naturally keen; living
in solitude, with nothing to distract it, its impressions never faded
away. She had never forgotten her mother's tears the day that she and
Plantagenet had visited Marringhurst. Somehow or other Dr. Masham
seemed connected with this sorrow. Whenever Lady Annabel was most
dispirited it was after an interview with that gentleman; yet the
presence of the Doctor always gave her pleasure, and he was the most
kind-hearted and cheerful of men. Perhaps, after all, it was only her
illusion; perhaps, after all, it was the memory of her father to which
her mother was devoted, and which occasionally overcame her; perhaps
she ventured to speak of him to Dr. Masham, though not to her
daughter, and this might account for that occasional agitation which
Venetia had observed at his visits.
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