'Do you remember my father at Oxford, Doctor Masham?' said Venetia.
'Yes! no, yes!' said the Doctor, rather colouring; 'that he must have
been there in my time, I rather think.'
'But you do not recollect him?' said Venetia, pressing question.
'Why,' rejoined the Doctor, a little more collected, 'when you
remember that there are between two and three thousand young men at
the university, you must not consider it very surprising that I might
not recollect your father.'
'No,' said Venetia, 'perhaps not: and yet I cannot help thinking that
he must always have been a person who, if once seen, would not easily
have been forgotten.'
'Here is an Erica vagans,' said the Doctor, picking a flower; 'it
is rather uncommon about here;' and handing it at the same time to
Venetia.
'My father must have been very young when he died?' said Venetia,
scarcely looking at the flower.
'Yes, your father was very young,' he replied.
'Where did he die?'
'I cannot answer that question.'
'Where was he buried?'
'You know, my dear young lady, that the subject is too tender for any
one to converse with your poor mother upon it. It is not in my power
to give you the information you desire. Be satisfied, my dear Miss
Herbert, that a gracious Providence has spared to you one parent, and
one so inestimable.
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