chamber and the amusement of a book.  He was at this time deeply interested in Purchas’s Pilgrimage, one of the few books of which the late lord had not despoiled him.  Narratives of travels and voyages always particularly pleased him; he had an idea that he was laying up information which might be useful to him hereafter; the Cherbury collection was rich in this class of volumes, and Lady Annabel encouraged their perusal.

In this way many weeks elapsed at the abbey, during which the visits of Plantagenet to Cherbury were very few.  Sometimes, if the weather cleared for an hour during the morning, he would mount his pony, and gallop, without stopping, to the hall.  The rapidity of the motion excited his mind; he fancied himself, as he embraced Venetia, some chieftain who had escaped for a moment from his castle to visit his mistress; his imagination conjured up a war between the opposing towers of Cadurcis and Cherbury; and when his mother fell into a passion on his return, it passed with him only, according to its length and spirit, as a brisk skirmish or a general engagement.

CHAPTER XIII.

One afternoon, on his return from Cherbury, Plantagenet found the fire extinguished in the little room which he had appropriated to himself, and where he kept his books.  As he had expressed his wish to the servant that the fire should be kept up, he complained to him of the neglect, but was informed, in reply, that the fire had been allowed to go out by his mother’s orders, and that she desired in future that he would always read in the saloon.  Plantagenet had sufficient self-control to make no observation before the servant, and soon after joined his mother, who looked very sullen, as if she were conscious that she had laid a train for an explosion.

Dinner was now served, a short and silent meal.  Lord Cadurcis did not choose to speak because he felt aggrieved, and his mother because she was husbanding her energies for the contest which she believed impending.  At length, when the table was cleared, and the servant departed, Cadurcis said in a quiet tone, ’I think I shall write to my guardian to-morrow about my going to Eton.’

‘You shall do no such thing,’ said Mrs. Cadurcis, bristling up; ’I never heard such a ridiculous idea in my life as a boy like you writing letters on such subjects to a person you have never yet seen.  When I think it proper that you should go to Eton, I shall write.’

‘I wish you would think it proper now then, ma’am.’

‘I won’t be dictated to,’ said Mrs. Cadurcis, fiercely.

‘I was not dictating,’ replied her son, calmly.

‘You would if you could,’ said his mother.

‘Time enough to find fault with me when I do, ma’am.’

‘There is enough to find fault about at all times, sir.’

‘On which side, Mrs. Cadurcis?’ inquired Plantagenet, with a sneer.