'Annabel,' said Herbert, who had now withdrawn
to some distance, and leant against a pillar, 'will not then nearly
twenty years of desolation purchase one moment of intercourse? I have
injured you. Be it so. This is not the moment I will defend myself.
But have I not suffered? Is not this meeting a punishment deeper
even than your vengeance could devise? Is it nothing to behold this
beautiful child, and feel that she is only yours? Annabel, look on me,
look on me only one moment! My frame is bowed, my hair is grey, my
heart is withered; the principle of existence waxes faint and slack in
this attenuated frame. I am no longer that Herbert on whom you once
smiled, but a man stricken with many sorrows. The odious conviction of
my life cannot long haunt you; yet a little while, and my memory will
alone remain. Think of this, Annabel; I beseech you, think of it. Oh!
believe me, when the speedy hour arrives that will consign me to the
grave, where I shall at least find peace, it will not be utterly
without satisfaction that you will remember that we met if even by
accident, and parted at least not with harshness!'
'Mother, dearest mother!' murmured Venetia, 'speak to him, look on
him!'
'Venetia,' said her mother, without turning her head, but in a calm,
firm tone, 'your father has seen you, has conversed with you.
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