‘Dear little Venetia,’ exclaimed the good Bishop; ’for I believe I shall call her little Venetia to the day of my death.  How well she looks to-night!  Her aunt is, I think, very fond of her!  See!’

‘Yes, it pleases me,’ said Lady Annabel; but I do wish my sister was not such an admirer of Lord Cadurcis’ poems.  You cannot conceive how uneasy it makes me.  I am quite annoyed that he was asked here to-day.  Why ask him?’

‘Oh! there is no harm,’ said Masham; ’you must forget the past.  By all accounts, Cadurcis is not a marrying man.  Indeed, as I understood, marriage with him is at present quite out of the question.  And as for Venetia, she rejected him before, and she will, if necessary, reject him again.  He has been a brother to her, and after that he can be no more.  Girls never fall in love with those with whom they are bred up.’

‘I hope, I believe there is no occasion for apprehension,’ replied Lady Annabel; ’indeed, it has scarcely entered my head.  The very charms he once admired in Venetia can have no sway over him, as I should think, now.  I should believe him as little capable of appreciating Venetia now, as he was when last at Cherbury, of anticipating the change in his own character.’

’You mean opinions, my dear lady, for characters never change.  Believe me, Cadurcis is radically the same as in old days.  Circumstances have only developed his latent predisposition.’

’Not changed, my dear lord! what, that innocent, sweet-tempered, docile child—­’

‘Hush! here he comes.’

The Earl and his guests entered the room; a circle was formed round Lady Annabel; some evening visitors arrived; there was singing.  It had not been the intention of Lord Cadurcis to return to the drawing-room after his rebuff by Lady Annabel; he had meditated making his peace at Monteagle House; but when the moment of his projected departure had arrived, he could not resist the temptation of again seeing Venetia.  He entered the room last, and some moments after his companions.  Lady Annabel, who watched the general entrance, concluded he had gone, and her attention was now fully engaged.  Lord Cadurcis remained at the end of the room alone, apparently abstracted, and looking far from amiable; but his eye, in reality, was watching Venetia.  Suddenly her aunt approached her, and invited the lady who was conversing with Miss Herbert to sing; Lord Cadurcis immediately advanced, and took her seat.  Venetia was surprised that for the first time in her life with Plantagenet she felt embarrassed.  She had met his look when he approached her, and had welcomed, or, at least, intended to welcome him with a smile, but she was at a loss for words; she was haunted with the recollection of her mother’s behaviour to him at dinner, and she looked down on the ground, far from being at ease.

‘Venetia!’ said Lord Cadurcis.

She started.

‘We are alone,’ he said; ‘let me call you Venetia when we are alone.’