Venetia

  CHAPTER XIII.

  We must, however, endeavour to be more intimately acquainted withthe heart and mind of Venetia in her present situation, so stronglycontrasting with the serene simplicity of her former life, than thelimited and constrained opportunities of conversing with the companionof his childhood enjoyed by Lord Cadurcis could possibly enable him tobecome. Let us recur to her on the night when she returned home, afterhaving met with Plantagenet at her uncle's, and having pursued aconversation with him, so unexpected, so strange, and so affecting!She had been silent in the carriage, and retired to her roomimmediately. She retired to ponder. The voice of Cadurcis lingered inher ear; his tearful eye still caught her vision. She leant her headupon her hand, and sighed! Why did she sigh? What at this instant washer uppermost thought? Her mother's dislike of Cadurcis. 'Your motherhates me.' These had been his words; these were the words she repeatedto herself, and on whose fearful sounds she dwelt. 'Your mother hatesme.' If by some means she had learnt a month ago at Weymouth, that hermother hated Cadurcis, that his general conduct had been such as toexcite Lady Annabel's odium, Venetia might have for a momentbeen shocked that her old companion in whom she had once been sointerested, had by his irregular behaviour incurred the dislike of hermother, by whom he had once been so loved. But it would have been atransient emotion. She might have mused over past feelings and pasthopes in a solitary ramble on the seashore; she might even have sheda tear over the misfortunes or infelicity of one who had once beento her a brother; but, perhaps, nay probably, on the morrow theremembrance of Plantagenet would scarcely have occurred to her.Long years had elapsed since their ancient fondness; a considerableinterval since even his name had met her ear. She had heard nothingof him that could for a moment arrest her notice or command herattention.

  But now the irresistible impression that her mother disliked this veryindividual filled, her with intolerable grief. What occasioned thischange in her feelings, this extraordinary difference in her emotions?There was, apparently, but one cause. She had met Cadurcis. Could thena glance, could even the tender intonations of that unrivalled voice,and the dark passion of that speaking eye, work in an instant suchmarvels? Could they revive the past so vividly, that Plantagenet ina moment resumed his ancient place in her affections? No, it was notthat: it was less the tenderness of the past that made Venetia mournher mother's sternness to Cadurcis, than the feelings of the future.For now she felt that her mother's heart was not more changed towardsthis personage than was her own.

  It seemed to Venetia that even before they met, from the very momentthat his name had so strangely caught her eye in the volume on thefirst evening she had visited her relations, that her spirit suddenlyturned to him. She had never heard that name mentioned since withouta fluttering of the heart which she could not repress, and an emotionshe could ill conceal. She loved to hear others talk of him, and yetscarcely dared speak of him herself. She recalled her emotionat unexpectedly seeing his portrait when with her aunt, and hermortification when her mother deprived her of the poem which shesighed to read. Day after day something seemed to have occurred to fixher brooding thoughts with fonder earnestness on his image. At lengththey met. Her emotion when she first recognised him at Ranelagh andfelt him approaching her, was one of those tumults of the heart thatform almost a crisis in our sensations. With what difficulty hadshe maintained herself! Doubtful whether he would even formallyacknowledge her presence, her vision as if by fascination hadnevertheless met his, and grew dizzy as he passed. In the intervalthat had elapsed between his first passing and then joining her, whata chaos was her mind! What a wild blending of all the scenes andincidents of her life! What random answers had she made to those withwhom she had been before conversing with ease and animation! And then,when she unexpectedly found Cadurcis at her side, and listened to thesound of that familiar voice, familiar and yet changed, expressingso much tenderness in its tones, and in its words such deference anddelicate respect, existence felt to her that moment affluent with ablissful excitement of which she had never dreamed!

  Her life was a reverie until they met again, in which she only musedover his fame, and the strange relations of their careers. She hadwatched the conduct of her mother to him at dinner with poignantsorrow; she scarcely believed that she should have an opportunityof expressing to him her sympathy. And then what had followed?A conversation, every word of which had touched her heart; aconversation that would have entirely controlled her feelings even ifhe had not already subjected them. The tone in which he so suddenlyhad pronounced 'Venetia,' was the sweetest music to which she had everlistened. His allusion to her father had drawn tears, which could notbe restrained even in a crowded saloon. Now she wept plenteously.It was so generous, so noble, so kind, so affectionate! Dear, dearCadurcis, is it wonderful that you should be loved?

  Then falling into a reverie of sweet and unbroken stillness, with hereyes fixed in abstraction on the fire, Venetia reviewed her life fromthe moment she had known Plantagenet. Not an incident that had everoccurred to them that did not rise obedient to her magical bidding.She loved to dwell upon the time when she was the consolation of hissorrows, and when Cherbury was to him a pleasant refuge! Oh! she feltsure her mother must remember those fond days, and love him as sheonce did! She pictured to herself the little Plantagenet of herchildhood, so serious and so pensive when alone or with others, yetwith her at times so gay and wild, and sarcastic; forebodings all ofthat deep and brilliant spirit, which had since stirred up the heartof a great nation, and dazzled the fancy of an admiring world. Thechange too in their mutual lots was also, to a degree, not free fromthat sympathy that had ever bound them together. A train of strangeaccidents had brought Venetia from her spell-bound seclusion, placedher suddenly in the most brilliant circle of civilisation, and classedher among not the least admired of its favoured members. And whom hadshe come to meet? Whom did she find in this new and splendid life themost courted and considered of its community, crowned as it were withgarlands, and perfumed with the incense of a thousand altars? Her ownPlantagenet. It was passing strange.

  The morrow brought the verses from Cadurcis. They greatly affectedher. The picture of their childhood, and of the singular sympathy oftheir mutual situations, and the description of her father, calledforth her tears; she murmured, however, at the allusion to her otherparent. It was not just, it could not be true. These verses were not,of course, shown to Lady Annabel. Would they have been shown, even ifthey had not contained the allusion? The question is not perplexing.Venetia had her secret, and a far deeper one than the mere receptionof a poem; all confidence between her and her mother had expired. Lovehad stept in, and, before his magic touch, the discipline of a lifeexpired in an instant.

  From all this an idea may be formed of the mood in which, during thefortnight before alluded to, Venetia was in the habit of meeting LordCadurcis. During this period not the slightest conversation respectinghim had occurred between her mother and herself. Lady Annabel nevermentioned him, and her brow clouded when his name, as was often thecase, was introduced. At the end of this fortnight, it happened thather aunt and mother were out together in the carriage, and had lefther in the course of the morning at her uncle's house. During thisinterval, Lord Cadurcis called, and having ascertained, through agarrulous servant, that though his mistress was out, Miss Herbert wasin the drawing-room, he immediately took the opportunity of beingintroduced. Venetia was not a little surprised at his appearance, and,conscious of her mother's feelings upon the subject, for a momenta little agitated, yet, it must be confessed, as much pleased. Sheseized this occasion of speaking to him about his verses, for hithertoshe had only been able to acknowledge the receipt of them by aword. While she expressed without affectation the emotions they hadoccasioned her, she complained of his injustice to her mother: thiswas the cause of an interesting conversation of which her fatherwas the subject, and for which she had long sighed. With what deep,unbroken attention she listened to her companion's enthusiasticdelineation of his character and career! Wh
at multiplied questions didshe not ask him, and how eagerly, how amply, how affectionately hesatisfied her just and natural curiosity! Hours flew away while theyindulged in this rare communion.

  'Oh, that I could see him!' sighed Venetia.

  'You will,' replied Plantagenet; 'your destiny requires it. You willsee him as surely as you beheld that portrait that it was the labourof a life to prevent you beholding.'

  Venetia shook her head; 'And yet,' she added musingly, 'my motherloves him.'

  'Her life proves it,' said Cadurcis bitterly.

  'I think it does,' replied Venetia, sincerely.

  'I pretend not to understand her heart,' he answered; 'it is an enigmathat I cannot solve. I ought not to believe that she is without one;but, at any rate, her pride is deeper than her love.'

  'They were ill suited,' said Venetia, mournfully; 'and yet it is oneof my dreams that they may yet meet.'

  'Ah, Venetia!' he exclaimed, in a voice of great softness, 'they hadnot known each other from their childhood, like us. They met, and theyparted, alike in haste.'

  Venetia made no reply; her eyes were fixed in abstraction on ahandscreen, which she was unconscious that she held.

  'Tell me,' said Cadurcis, drawing his chair close to hers; 'tell me,Venetia, if--'

  At this moment a thundering knock at the door announced the return ofthe Countess and her sister-in-law. Cadurcis rose from his seat, buthis chair, which still remained close to that on which Venetia wassitting, did not escape the quick glance of her mortified mother. TheCountess welcomed Cadurcis with extreme cordiality; Lady Annabel onlyreturned his very courteous bow.

  'Stop and dine with us, my dear lord,' said the Countess. 'We are onlyourselves, and Lady Annabel and Venetia.'

  'I thank you, Clara,' said Lady Annabel, 'but we cannot stop to-day.'

  'Oh!' exclaimed her sister. 'It will be such a disappointment toPhilip. Indeed you must stay,' she added, in a coaxing tone; 'we shallbe such an agreeable little party, with Lord Cadurcis.'

  'I cannot indeed, my dear Clara,' replied Lady Annabel; 'not to-day,indeed not to-day. Come Venetia!'