'My
own dearest mother, if my duty, if my devotion can content you, you
shall be happy. But wherein have I failed?'
'In nothing, love. Your life has hitherto been one unbroken course of
affectionate obedience.'
'And ever shall be,' said Venetia. 'But you were speaking, mother, you
were speaking of, of my, my father!'
'Of him!' said Lady Annabel, thoughtfully. 'You have seen his
picture?'
Venetia kissed her mother's hand.
'Was he less beautiful than Cadurcis? Was he less gifted?' exclaimed
Lady Annabel, with animation. 'He could whisper in tones as sweet, and
pour out his vows as fervently. Yet what am I? O my child!' continued
Lady Annabel, 'beware of such beings! They bear within them a spirit
on which all the devotion of our sex is lavished in vain. A year, no!
not a year, not one short year! and all my hopes were blighted! O
Venetia! if your future should be like my bitter past! and it might
have been, and I might have contributed to the fulfilment! can you
wonder that I should look upon Cadurcis with aversion?'
'But, mother, dearest mother, we have known Plantagenet from his
childhood. You ever loved him; you ever gave him credit for a heart,
most tender and affectionate.'
'He has no heart.'
'Mother!'
'He cannot have a heart.
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