Lady
Annabel, who watched the general entrance, concluded he had gone, and
her attention was now fully engaged. Lord Cadurcis remained at the
end of the room alone, apparently abstracted, and looking far from
amiable; but his eye, in reality, was watching Venetia. Suddenly her
aunt approached her, and invited the lady who was conversing with Miss
Herbert to sing; Lord Cadurcis immediately advanced, and took her
seat. Venetia was surprised that for the first time in her life
with Plantagenet she felt embarrassed. She had met his look when he
approached her, and had welcomed, or, at least, intended to welcome
him with a smile, but she was at a loss for words; she was haunted
with the recollection of her mother's behaviour to him at dinner, and
she looked down on the ground, far from being at ease.
'Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.
She started.
'We are alone,' he said; 'let me call you Venetia when we are alone.'
She did not, she could not reply; she felt confused; the blood rose to
her cheek.
'How changed is everything!' continued Cadurcis. 'To think the day
should ever arrive when I should have to beg your permission to call
you Venetia!'
She looked up; she met his glance. It was mournful; nay, his eyes were
suffused with tears.
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