'Do
you know, I can sit for an hour together and muse over it.'
'Can you, Plantagenet?'
'I have such an extraordinary memory; I do not think I ever forgot
anything. We have had some remarkable conversations in our time,
eh, Venetia? Do you remember my visit to Cherbury before I went to
Cambridge, and the last time I saw you before I left England? And now
it all ends in this! What do you think of it, Venetia?'
'Think of what, Plantagenet?'
'Why, of this reconciliation?'
'Dear Plantagenet, what can I think of it but what I have expressed,
that it is a wonderful event, but the happiest in my life.'
'You are quite happy now?'
'Quite.'
'I see you do not care for me the least.'
'Plantagenet, you are perverse. Are you not here?'
'Did you ever think of me when I was away?'
'You know very well, Plantagenet, that it is impossible for me to
cease to be interested in you. Could I refrain from thinking of such a
friend?'
'Friend! poh! I am not your friend; and, as for that, you never once
mentioned my name to your father, Miss Venetia.'
'You might easily conceive that there were reasons for such silence,'
said Venetia. 'It could not arise on my part from forgetfulness or
indifference; for, even if my feelings were changed towards you, you
are not a person that one would, or even could, avoid speaking of,
especially to papa, who must have felt such interest in you! I am
sure, even if I had not known you, there were a thousand occasions
which would have called your name to my lips, had they been
uncontrolled by other considerations.
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