‘Then I will postpone my visit to that day,’ said George.  ’I am in no humour for business, which I know awaits me there.  Let me enjoy a little more repose at dear Cherbury.’

‘I have become very restless of late, I think,’ said Venetia, ’but there is a particular spot in the garden that I wish to see.  Come with me, George.’

Lord Cadurcis was only too happy to attend her.  They proceeded through a winding walk in the shrubberies until they arrived at a small and open plot of turf, where Venetia stopped.  ’There are some associations,’ she said, ’of this spot connected with both those friends that we have lost.  I have a fancy that it should be in some visible manner consecrated to their memories.  On this spot, George, Plantagenet once spoke to me of my father.  I should like to raise their busts here; and indeed it is a fit place for such a purpose; for poets,’ she added, faintly smiling, ’should be surrounded with laurels.’

’I have some thoughts on this head that I am revolving in my fancy myself,’ said Lord Cadurcis, ‘but I will not speak of them now.’

’Yes, now, George; for indeed it is a satisfaction for me to speak of them, at least with you, with one who understood them so well, and loved them scarcely less than I did.’

George tenderly put his arm into hers and led her away.  As they walked along, he explained to her his plans, which yet were somewhat crude, but which greatly interested her; but they were roused from their conversation by the bell of the hall sounding as if to summon them, and therefore they directed their way immediately to the terrace.  A servant running met them; he brought a message from Lady Annabel.  Their friend the Bishop of ——­ had arrived.

CHAPTER III.

‘Well, my little daughter,’ said the good Masham, advancing as Venetia entered the room, and tenderly embracing her.  The kind-hearted old man maintained a conversation on indifferent subjects with animation for some minutes; and thus a meeting, the anticipation of which would have cost Venetia hours of pain and anxiety, occurred with less uneasy feelings.

Masham had hastened to Cherbury the moment he heard of the return of the Herberts to England.  He did not come to console, but to enliven.  He was well aware that even his eloquence, and all the influence of his piety, could not soften the irreparable past; and knowing, from experience, how in solitude the unhappy brood over sorrow, he fancied that his arrival, and perhaps his arrival only, might tend in some degree at this moment to their alleviation and comfort.  He brought Lady Annabel and Venetia letters from their relations, with whom he had been staying at their country residence, and who were anxious that their unhappy kinsfolk should find change of scene under their roof.

‘They are very affectionate,’ said Lady Annabel, ’but I rather think that neither Venetia nor myself feel inclined to quit Cherbury at present.’