We have indicated in a few pages the progress of three years.  How differently passed to the two preceding ones, when the Cadurcis family were settled at the abbey!  For during this latter period it seemed that not a single incident had occurred.  They had glided away in one unbroken course of study, religion, and domestic love, the enjoyment of nature, and the pursuits of charity; like a long summer sabbath-day, sweet and serene and still, undisturbed by a single passion, hallowed and hallowing.

If the Cadurcis family were now not absolutely forgotten at Cherbury, they were at least only occasionally remembered.  These last three years so completely harmonised with the life of Venetia before their arrival, that, taking a general view of her existence, their residence at the abbey figured only as an episode in her career; active indeed and stirring, and one that had left some impressions not easily discarded; but, on the whole, mellowed by the magic of time, Venetia looked back to her youthful friendship as an event that was only an exception in her lot, and she viewed herself as a being born and bred up in a seclusion which she was never to quit, with no aspirations beyond the little world in which she moved, and where she was to die in peace, as she had lived in purity.

One Sunday, the conversation after dinner fell upon Lord Cadurcis.  Doctor Masham had recently met a young Etonian, and had made some inquiries about their friend of old days.  The information he had obtained was not very satisfactory.  It seemed that Cadurcis was a more popular boy with his companions than his tutors; he had been rather unruly, and had only escaped expulsion by the influence of his guardian, who was not only a great noble, but a powerful minister.

This conversation recalled old times.  They talked over the arrival of Mrs. Cadurcis at the abbey, her strange character, her untimely end.  Lady Annabel expressed her conviction of the natural excellence of Plantagenet’s disposition, and her regret of the many disadvantages under which he laboured; it gratified Venetia to listen to his praise.

‘He has quite forgotten us, mamma,’ said Venetia.

‘My love, he was very young when he quitted us,’ replied Lady Annabel; ’and you must remember the influence of a change of life at so tender an age.  He lives now in a busy world.’

‘I wish that he had not forgotten to write to us sometimes,’ said Venetia.

‘Writing a letter is a great achievement for a schoolboy,’ said the Doctor; ’it is a duty which even grown-up persons too often forget to fulfil, and, when postponed, it is generally deferred for ever.  However, I agree with Lady Annabel, Cadurcis was a fine fellow, and had he been properly brought up, I cannot help thinking, might have turned out something.’

‘Poor Plantagenet!’ said Venetia, ’how I pity him.  His was a terrible lot, to lose both his parents!  Whatever were the errors of Mrs. Cadurcis, she was his mother, and, in spite of every mortification, he clung to her.  Ah!  I shall never forget when Pauncefort met him coming out of her room the night before the burial, when he said, with streaming eyes, “I only had one friend in the world, and now she is gone.”  I could not love Mrs. Cadurcis, and yet, when I heard of these words, I cried as much as he.’