‘Yes, my lord, Lord Cadurcis,’ was the reply.

‘Our old companion,’ said the Bishop to Lady Annabel, with a smile.  ’He has called upon me twice, and I have on both occasions unfortunately been absent.’

Lady Annabel merely bowed an assent to the Bishop’s remark.  Venetia longed to speak, but found it impossible.  ’What is it that represses me?’ she asked herself.  ’Is there to be another forbidden subject insensibly to arise between us?  I must struggle against this indefinable despotism that seems to pervade my life.’

‘Have you met Lord Cadurcis, sir?’ at length asked Venetia.

’Once; we resumed our acquaintance at a dinner party one day; but I shall soon see a great deal of him, for he has just taken his seat.  He is of age, you know.’

‘I hope he has come to years of discretion in every sense,’ said Lady Annabel; ‘but I fear not.’

‘Oh, my dear lady!’ said the Bishop, ’he has become a great man; he is our star.  I assure you there is nobody in London talked of but Lord Cadurcis.  He asked me a great deal after you and Cherbury.  He will be delighted to see you.’

‘I cannot say,’ replied Lady Annabel, ’that the desire of meeting is at all mutual.  From all I hear, our connections and opinions are very different, and I dare say our habits likewise.’

‘My aunt lent us his new poem to-day,’ said Venetia, boldly.

‘Have you read it?’ asked the Bishop.

‘I am no admirer of modern poetry,’ said Lady Annabel, somewhat tartly.

‘Poetry of any kind is not much in my way,’ said the Bishop, ’but if you like to read his poems, I will lend them to you, for he gave me a copy; esteemed a great honour, I assure you.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Lady Annabel, ’both Venetia and myself are much engaged now; and I do not wish her to read while she is in London.  When we return to Cherbury she will have abundance of time, if desirable.’

Both Venetia and her worthy host felt that the present subject of conversation was not agreeable to Lady Annabel, and it was changed.  They fell upon more gracious topics, and in spite of this somewhat sullen commencement the meeting was quite as delightful as they anticipated.  Lady Annabel particularly exerted herself to please, and, as was invariably the case under such circumstances with this lady, she was eminently successful; she apparently endeavoured, by her remarkable kindness to her daughter, to atone for any unpleasant feeling which her previous manner might for an instant have occasioned.  Venetia watched her beautiful and affectionate parent, as Lady Annabel now dwelt with delight upon the remembrance of their happy home, and now recurred to the anxiety she naturally felt about her daughter’s approaching presentation, with feelings of love and admiration, which made her accuse herself for the recent rebellion of her heart.  She thought only of her mother’s sorrows, and her devotion to her child; and, grateful for the unexpected