‘And you:  has my return lightened only her heart, Venetia?’

‘Indeed it has contributed to the happiness of every one.’

’And yet, when I first returned, I heard you utter a complaint; the first that to my knowledge ever escaped your lips.’

‘Ah! we cannot be always equally gay.’

‘Once you were, dear Venetia.’

‘I was a child then.’

’And I, I too was a child; yet I am happy, at least now that I am with you.’

‘Well, we are both happy now.’

’Oh! say that again, say that again, Venetia; for indeed you made me miserable when you told me that you had changed.  I cannot bear that you, Venetia, should ever change.’

’It is the course of nature, Plantagenet; we all change, everything changes.  This day that was so bright is changing fast.’

‘The stars are as beautiful as the sun, Venetia.’

‘And what do you infer?’

’That Venetia, a woman, is as beautiful as Venetia, a little girl; and should be as happy.’

‘Is beauty happiness, Plantagenet?’

’It makes others happy, Venetia; and when we make others happy we should be happy ourselves.’

‘Few depend upon my influence, and I trust all of them are happy.’

‘No one depends upon your influence more than I do.’

‘Well, then, be happy always.’

’Would that I might!  Ah, Venetia! can I ever forget old days?  You were the solace of my dark childhood; you were the charm that first taught me existence was enjoyment.  Before I came to Cherbury I never was happy, and since that hour—­Ah, Venetia! dear, dearest Venetia! who is like to you?’

’Dear Plantagenet, you were always too kind to me.  Would we were children once more!’

’Nay, my own Venetia! you tell me everything changes, and we must not murmur at the course of nature.  I would not have our childhood back again, even with all its joys, for there are others yet in store for us, not less pure, not less beautiful.  We loved each other then, Venetia, and we love each other now.’

’My feelings towards you have never changed, Plantagenet; I heard of you always with interest, and I met you again with heartfelt pleasure.’

’Oh, that morning!  Have you forgotten that morning?  Do you know, you will smile very much, but I really believe that I expected to see my Venetia still a little girl, the very same who greeted me when I first arrived with my mother and behaved so naughtily!  And when I saw you, and found what you had become, and what I ought always to have known you must become, I was so confused I entirely lost my presence of mind.  You must have thought me very awkward, very stupid?’

’Indeed, I was rather gratified by observing that you could not meet us again without emotion.  I thought it told well for your heart, which I always believed to be most kind, at least, I am sure, to us.’

’Kind! oh, Venetia! that word but ill describes what my heart ever was, what it now is, to you.  Venetia! dearest, sweetest Venetia! can you doubt for a moment my feelings towards your home, and what influence must principally impel them?  Am I so dull, or you so blind, Venetia?  Can I not express, can you not discover how much, how ardently, how fondly, how devotedly, I, I, I love you?’