Lady Annabel was particularly kind to Venetia on their return to their hotel, otherwise her daughter might have fancied that she had offended her, for she was silent.  Venetia did not doubt that the presence of Lord Cadurcis was the reason that her mother would not remain and dine at her uncle’s.  This conviction grieved Venetia, but she did not repine; she indulged the fond hope that time would remove the strong prejudice which Lady Annabel now so singularly entertained against one in whose welfare she was originally so deeply interested.  During their simple and short repast Venetia was occupied in a reverie, in which, it must be owned, Cadurcis greatly figured, and answered the occasional though kind remarks of her mother with an absent air.

After dinner, Lady Annabel drew her chair towards the fire, for, although May, the weather was chill, and said, ’A quiet evening at home, Venetia, will be a relief after all this gaiety.’  Venetia assented to her mother’s observation, and nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed without another word being spoken.  Venetia had taken up a book, and Lady Annabel was apparently lost in her reflections.  At length she said, somewhat abruptly, ’It is more than three years, I think, since Lord Cadurcis left Cherbury?’

‘Yes; it is more than three years,’ replied Venetia.

‘He quitted us suddenly.’

‘Very suddenly,’ agreed Venetia.

‘I never asked you whether you knew the cause, Venetia,’ continued her mother, ’but I always concluded that you did.  I suppose I was not in error?’

This was not a very agreeable inquiry.  Venetia did not reply to it with her previous readiness and indifference.  That indeed was impossible; but, with her accustomed frankness, after a moment’s hesitation, she answered, ’Lord Cadurcis never specifically stated the cause to me, mamma; indeed I was myself surprised at his departure, but some conversation had occurred between us on the very morning he quitted Cadurcis, which, on reflection, I could not doubt occasioned that departure.’

’Lord Cadurcis preferred his suit to you, Venetia, and you rejected him?’ said Lady Annabel.

‘It is as you believe,’ replied Venetia, not a little agitated.

’You did wisely, my child, and I was weak ever to have regretted your conduct.’

‘Why should you think so, dearest mamma?’

‘Whatever may have been the cause that impelled your conduct then,’ said Lady Annabel, ’I shall ever esteem your decision as a signal interposition of Providence in your favour.  Except his extreme youth, there was apparently no reason which should not have induced you to adopt a different decision.  I tremble when I think what might have been the consequences.’

‘Tremble, dearest mother?’

’Tremble, Venetia.  My only thought in this life is the happiness of my child.  It was in peril.

’Nay, I trust not that, mamma:  you are prejudiced against Plantagenet.  It makes me very unhappy, and him also.’