'Mother,
you have her still!'
'I have schooled my mind,' continued Lady Annabel, still pacing the
room with agitated steps; 'I have disciplined my emotions; I have felt
at my heart the constant the undying pang, and yet I have smiled, that
you might be happy. But I can struggle against my fate no longer. No
longer can I suffer my unparalleled, yes, my unjust doom. What have I
done to merit these afflictions? Now, then, let me struggle no more;
let me die!'
Venetia tried to rise; her limbs refused their office; she tottered;
she fell again into her seat with an hysteric cry.
'Alas! alas!' exclaimed Lady Annabel, 'to a mother, a child is
everything; but to a child, a parent is only a link in the chain of
her existence. It was weakness, it was folly, it was madness to stake
everything on a resource which must fail me. I feel it now, but I feel
it too late.'
Venetia held forth her arms; she could not speak; she was stifled with
her emotion.
'But was it wonderful that I was so weak?' continued her mother, as it
were communing only with herself. 'What child was like mine? Oh! the
joy, the bliss, the hours of rapture that I have passed, in gazing
upon my treasure, and dreaming of all her beauty and her rare
qualities! I was so happy! I was so proud! Ah, Venetia! you know not
how I have loved you!'
Venetia sprang from her seat; she rushed forward with convulsive
energy; she clung to her mother, threw her arms round her neck, and
buried her passionate woe in Lady Annabel's bosom.
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