'
'Cadurcis' last poem!' said Lady Annabel; 'do you mean Lord Cadurcis?
Is he a poet?'
'To he sure! Well, you are countrified not to know Lord Cadurcis!'
'I know him very well,' said Lady Annabel, gravely; 'but I did not
know he was a poet.'
The Countess laughed, the carriage stopped, the book was brought; Lady
Annabel looked uneasy, and tried to catch her daughter's countenance,
but, strange to say, for the first time in her life was quite
unsuccessful. The Countess took the book, and immediately gave it
Venetia. 'There, my dear,' said her aunt, 'there never was anything so
charming. I am so provoked that Cadurcis is a Whig.'
'A Whig!' said Lady Annabel; 'he was not a Whig when I knew him.'
'Oh! my dear, I am afraid he is worse than a Whig. He is almost a
rebel! But then he is such a genius! Everything is allowed, you know,
to a genius!' said the thoughtless sister-in-law.
Lady Annabel was silent; but the stillness of her emotion must not be
judged from the stillness of her tongue. Her astonishment at all she
had heard was only equalled by what we may justly term her horror. It
was impossible that she could have listened to any communication at
the same time so astounding, and to her so fearful.
'We knew Lord Cadurcis when he was very young, aunt,' said Venetia, in
a quiet tone.
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