Venetia

  CHAPTER XV.

  When Lady Monteagle discovered that of which her good-natured friendstook care she should not long remain ignorant, that Venetia Herberthad been the companion of Lord Cadurcis' childhood, and that the mostintimate relations had once subsisted between the two families,she became the prey of violent jealousy; and the bitterness of herfeelings was not a little increased, when she felt that she had notonly been abandoned, but duped; and that the new beauty, out of hisfancy for whom she had flattered herself she had so triumphantlyrallied him, was an old friend, whom he always admired. She seized thefirst occasion, after this discovery, of relieving her feelings, bya scene so violent, that Cadurcis had never again entered MonteagleHouse; and then repenting of this mortifying result, which she hadherself precipitated, she overwhelmed him with letters, which, nextto scenes, were the very things which Lord Cadurcis most heartilyabhorred. These, now indignant, now passionate, now loading him withreproaches, now appealing to his love, and now to his pity, dailyarrived at his residence, and were greeted at first only with shortand sarcastic replies, and finally by silence. Then the lady soliciteda final interview, and Lord Cadurcis having made an appointment toquiet her, went out of town the day before to Richmond, to a villabelonging to Venetia's uncle, and where, among other guests, he was ofcourse to meet Lady Annabel and her daughter.

  The party was a most agreeable one, and assumed an additional interestwith Cadurcis, who had resolved to seize this favourable opportunityto bring his aspirations to Venetia to a crisis. The day after thelast conversation with her, which we have noticed, he had indeedboldly called upon the Herberts at their hotel for that purpose, butwithout success, as they were again absent from home. He had beensince almost daily in the society of Venetia; but London, to a loverwho is not smiled upon by the domestic circle of his mistress, is avery unfavourable spot for confidential conversations. A villa life,with its easy, unembarrassed habits, its gardens and lounging walks,to say nothing of the increased opportunities resulting from beingtogether at all hours, and living under the same roof, was morepromising; and here he flattered himself he might defy even the Arguseye and ceaseless vigilance of his intended mother-in-law, his enemy,whom he could not propitiate, and whom he now fairly hated.

  His cousin George, too, was a guest, and his cousin George was theconfidant of his love. Upon this kind relation devolved the duty, farfrom a disagreeable one, of amusing the mother; and as Lady Annabel,though she relaxed not a jot of the grim courtesy which she everextended to Lord Cadurcis, was no longer seriously uneasy as to hisinfluence after the promise she had exacted from her daughter, itwould seem that these circumstances combined to prevent Lord Cadurcisfrom being disappointed at least in the first object which he wishedto obtain, an opportunity.

  And yet several days elapsed before this offered itself, passed byCadurcis, however, very pleasantly in the presence of the being heloved, and very judiciously too, for no one could possibly be moreamiable and ingratiating than our friend. Every one present, exceptLady Annabel, appeared to entertain for him as much affection asadmiration: those who had only met him in throngs were quite surprisedhow their superficial observation and the delusive reports of theworld had misled them. As for his hostess, whom it had ever been hisstudy to please, he had long won her heart; and, as she could notbe blind to his projects and pretensions, she heartily wished himsuccess, assisted him with all her efforts, and desired nothing moresincerely than that her niece should achieve such a conquest, and sheobtain so distinguished a nephew.

  Notwithstanding her promise to her mother, Venetia felt justified inmaking no alteration in her conduct to one whom she still sincerelyloved; and, under the immediate influence of his fascination, it wasoften, when she was alone, that she mourned with a sorrowing heartover the opinion which her mother entertained of him. Could it indeedbe possible that Plantagenet, the same Plantagenet she had known soearly and so long, to her invariably so tender and so devoted, couldentail on her, by their union, such unspeakable and inevitable misery?Whatever might be the view adopted by her mother of her conduct,Venetia felt every hour more keenly that it was a sacrifice, and thegreatest; and she still indulged in a vague yet delicious dream,that Lady Annabel might ultimately withdraw the harsh and perhapsheart-breaking interdict she had so rigidly decreed.

  'Cadurcis,' said his cousin to him one morning, 'we are all goingto Hampton Court. Now is your time; Lady Annabel, the Vernons, andmyself, will fill one carriage; I have arranged that. Look out, andsomething may be done. Speak to the Countess.'

  Accordingly Lord Cadurcis hastened to make a suggestion to a friendalways flattered by his notice. 'My dear friend,' he said in hissoftest tone, 'let you and Venetia and myself manage to be together;it will be so delightful; we shall quite enjoy ourselves.'

  The Countess did not require this animating compliment to effect theobject which Cadurcis did not express. She had gradually falleninto the unacknowledged conspiracy against her sister-in-law, whoseprejudice against her friend she had long discovered, and had nowceased to combat. Two carriages, and one filled as George hadarranged, accordingly drove gaily away; and Venetia, and her aunt, andLord Cadurcis were to follow them on horseback. They rode with delightthrough the splendid avenues of Bushey, and Cadurcis was never in alighter or happier mood.

  The month of May was in its decline, and the cloudless sky and thebalmy air such as suited so agreeable a season. The London season wasapproaching its close; for the royal birthday was, at the period ofour history, generally the signal of preparation for country quarters.The carriages arrived long before the riding party, for they hadwalked their steeds, and they found a messenger who requested them tojoin their friends in the apartments which they were visiting.

  'For my part,' said Cadurcis, 'I love the sun that rarely shines inthis land. I feel no inclination to lose the golden hours in thesegloomy rooms. What say you, ladies fair, to a stroll in the gardens?It will be doubly charming after our ride.'

  His companions cheerfully assented, and they walked away,congratulating themselves on their escape from the wearisome amusementof palace-hunting, straining their eyes to see pictures hung at agigantic height, and solemnly wandering through formal apartments fullof state beds and massy cabinets and modern armour.

  Taking their way along the terrace, they struck at length into a lessformal path. At length the Countess seated herself on a bench. 'I mustrest,' she said, 'but you, young people, may roam about; only do notlose me.'

  'Come, Venetia!' said Lord Cadurcis.

  Venetia was hesitating; she did not like to leave her aunt alone, butthe Countess encouraged her, 'If you will not go, you will only makeme continue walking,' she said. And so Venetia proceeded, and for thefirst time since her visit was alone with Plantagenet.

  'I quite love your aunt,' said Lord Cadurcis.

  'It is difficult indeed not to love her,' said Venetia.

  'Ah, Venetia! I wish your mother was like your aunt,' he continued.It was an observation which was not heard without some emotion by hiscompanion, though it was imperceptible. 'Venetia,' said Cadurcis,'when I recollect old days, how strange it seems that we now nevershould be alone, but by some mere accident, like this, for instance.'

  'It is no use thinking of old days,' said Venetia.

  'No use! said Cadurcis. 'I do not like to hear you say that, Venetia.Those are some of the least agreeable words that were ever utteredby that mouth. I cling to old days; they are my only joy and my onlyhope.'

  'They are gone,' said Venetia.

  'But may they not return?' said Cadurcis.

  'Never,' said Venetia, mournfully.

  They had walked on to a marble fountain of gigantic proportions andelaborate workmanship, an assemblage of divinities and genii, allspouting water in fantastic attitudes.

  'Old days,' said Plantagenet, 'are like the old fountain at Cadurcis,dearer to me than all this modern splendour.'

  'The old fountain at Cadurcis,' said Venetia, musingly, and gazing onthe water with an abstrac
ted air, 'I loved it well!'

  'Venetia,' said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yetnot untouched with melancholy, 'dear Venetia, let us return, andreturn together, to that old fountain and those old days!'

  Venetia shook her head. 'Ah, Plantagenet!' she exclaimed in a mournfulvoice, 'we must not speak of these things.'

  'Why not, Venetia?' exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. 'Why should webe estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; neverhave I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthfulaffection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank.'

  'I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged,' said Venetia.

  'Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury,' saidCadurcis. 'Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging thesame. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now anobscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charmof my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?'

  'Plantagenet,' she replied, in a solemn tone, 'yours I never can be.'

  'You do not, then, love me?' said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in avoice of great feeling.

  'It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you,' saidVenetia.

  'My own Venetia!' said Cadurcis; 'Venetia that I dote on! what doesthis mean? Why, then, will you not be mine?'

  'I cannot; there is an obstacle, an insuperable obstacle.'

  'Tell it me,' said Cadurcis eagerly; 'I will overcome it.'

  'I have promised never to marry without the approbation of my mother;her approbation you never can obtain.'

  Cadurcis' countenance fell; this was an obstacle which he felt thateven he could not overcome.

  'I told you your mother hated me, Venetia.' And then, as she did notreply, he continued, 'You confess it, I see you confess it. Once youflattered me I was mistaken; but now, now you confess it.'

  'Hatred is a word which I cannot understand,' replied Venetia. 'Mymother has reasons for disapproving my union with you; not founded onthe circumstances of your life, and therefore removable (for I knowwhat the world says, Plantagenet, of you), but I have confidence inyour love, and that is nothing; but founded on your character, on yournature; they may be unjust, but they are insuperable, and I must yieldto them.'

  'You have another parent, Venetia,' said Cadurcis, in a tone of almostirresistible softness, 'the best and greatest of men! Once you told methat his sanction was necessary to your marriage. I will obtain it.O Venetia! be mine, and we will join him; join that ill-fated andillustrious being who loves you with a passion second only to mine;him who has addressed you in language which rests on every lip, andhas thrilled many a heart that you even can never know. My adoredVenetia! picture to yourself, for one moment, a life with him; restingon my bosom, consecrated by his paternal love! Let us quit this meanand miserable existence, which we now pursue, which never could havesuited us; let us shun for ever this dull and degrading life, that isnot life, if life be what I deem it; let us fly to those beautifulsolitudes where he communes with an inspiring nature; let us, let usbe happy!'

  He uttered these last words in a tone of melting tenderness; he leantforward his head, and his gaze caught hers, which was fixed upon thewater. Her hand was pressed suddenly in his; his eye glittered, hislip seemed still speaking; he awaited his doom.

  The countenance of Venetia was quite pale, but it was disturbed. Youmight see, as it were, the shadowy progress of thought, and mark thetumultuous passage of conflicting passions. Her mind, for a moment,was indeed a chaos. There was a terrible conflict between love andduty. At length a tear, one solitary tear, burst from her burningeye-ball, and stole slowly down her cheek; it relieved her pain. Shepressed Cadurcis hand, and speaking in a hollow voice, and with a lookvague and painful, she said, 'I am a victim, but I am resolved. Inever will desert her who devoted herself to me.'

  Cadurcis quitted her hand rather abruptly, and began walking up anddown on the turf that surrounded the fountain.

  'Devoted herself to you!' he exclaimed with a fiendish laugh, andspeaking, as was his custom, between his teeth. 'Commend me to suchdevotion. Not content with depriving you of a father, now forsoothshe must bereave you of a lover too! And this is a mother, a devotedmother! The cold-blooded, sullen, selfish, inexorable tyrant!'

  'Plantagenet!' exclaimed Venetia with great animation.

  'Nay, I will speak. Victim, indeed! You have ever been her slave. Shea devoted mother! Ay! as devoted as a mother as she was dutiful as awife! She has no heart; she never had a feeling. And she cajoles youwith her love, her devotion, the stern hypocrite!'

  'I must leave you,' said Venetia; 'I cannot bear this.'

  'Oh! the truth, the truth is precious,' said Cadurcis, taking herhand, and preventing her from moving. 'Your mother, your devotedmother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.Yet there is another. Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow's sun shalllight me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blendmy tears with your father's, and I will publish to Europe the doubleinfamy of your mother. I swear it solemnly. Still I stand here,Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, herdutiful son. Nay! her slave like you. She shall not murmur. I will bedutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy,' he added in asofter tone. 'Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now,now.'

  'I have spoken,' said Venetia. 'My heart may break, but my purposeshall not falter.'

  'Then my curse upon your mother's head?' said Cadurcis, with terriblevehemency. 'May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!'

  'I will listen no more,' exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she movedaway. She had proceeded some little distance when she paused andlooked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did notobserve her. She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; shedid not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them asabruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given. Her heartwas nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting inbitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in thatsilent spot it reached him. He joined her immediately, but with a slowstep. When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in afrigid tone, 'I believe you called me?'

  Venetia burst into tears. 'I cannot bear to part in anger,Plantagenet. I wished to say farewell in kindness. I shall always prayfor your happiness. God bless you, Plantagenet!'

  Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about tospeak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned hissteps in a different direction.