CHAPTER VI.
When Lady Annabel and her daughter returned from their morning drive,they found the visiting ticket of the Countess on the table, who hadalso left a note, with which she had provided herself in case she wasnot so fortunate as to meet her relations. The note was affectionate,and expressed the great delight of the writer at again meeting herdear sister, and forming an acquaintance with her charming niece.
'More relations!' said Venetia, with a somewhat droll expression ofcountenance.
At this moment the Bishop of----, who had already called twice uponthem unsuccessfully, entered the room. The sight of this old and dearfriend gave great joy. He came to engage them to dine with him thenext day, having already ineffectually endeavoured to obtain them forpermanent guests. They sat chatting so long with him, that they wereobliged at last to bid him an abrupt adieu, and hasten and make theirtoilettes for their dinner.
Their hostess received her relations with a warmth which her husband'spraises of her sister-in-law and niece had originally prompted, butwhich their appearance and manners instantly confirmed. As all theEarl's children were married, their party consisted to-day only ofthemselves; but it was a happy and agreeable meeting, for everyone was desirous of being amiable. To be sure they had not manyrecollections or associations in common, and no one recurred to thepast; but London, and the history of its fleeting hours, was aninexhaustible source of amusing conversation; and the Countess seemedresolved that Venetia should have a brilliant season; that she shouldbe much amused and much admired. Lady Annabel, however, put in a pleafor moderation, at least until Venetia was presented; but that theCountess declared must be at the next drawing-room, which was early inthe ensuing week. Venetia listened to glittering narratives of ballsand routs, operas and theatres, breakfasts and masquerades, Ranelaghand the Pantheon, with the same smiling composure as if she had beenaccustomed to them all her life, instead of having been shut up ina garden, with no livelier or brighter companions than birds andflowers.
After dinner, as her aunt and uncle and Lady Annabel sat round thefire, talking of her maternal grandfather, a subject which did not atall interest her, Venetia stole from her chair to a table in a distantpart of the room, and turned over some books and music that were lyingupon it. Among these was a literary journal, which she touched almostby accident, and which opened, with the name of Lord Cadurcis on thetop of its page. This, of course, instantly attracted her attention.Her eye passed hastily over some sentences which greatly astonishedher, and, extending her arm for a chair without quitting the book,she was soon deeply absorbed by the marvels which rapidly unfoldedthemselves to her. The article in question was an elaborate criticismas well of the career as the works of the noble poet; for, indeed, asVenetia now learnt, they were inseparably blended. She gathered fromthese pages a faint and hasty yet not altogether unfaithful conceptionof the strange revolution that had occurred in the character,pursuits, and position of her former companion. In that mightymetropolis, whose wealth and luxury and power had that morning sovividly impressed themselves upon her consciousness, and to thehistory of whose pleasures and brilliant and fantastic dissipation shehad recently been listening with a lively and diverted ear, it seemedthat, by some rapid and magical vicissitude, her little Plantagenet,the faithful and affectionate companion of her childhood, whosesorrows she had so often soothed, and who in her pure and devoted lovehad always found consolation and happiness, had become 'the observedof all observers;' the most remarkable where all was striking, anddazzling where all were brilliant!
His last visit to Cherbury, and its strange consequences, thenoccurred to her; his passionate addresses, and their bitter parting.Here was surely matter enough for a maiden's reverie, and into areverie Venetia certainly fell, from which she was roused by the voiceof her uncle, who could not conceive what book his charming niececould find so interesting, and led her to feel what an ill complimentshe was paying to all present. Venetia hastily closed the volume, androse rather confused from her seat; her radiant smile was thebest apology to her uncle: and she compensated for her previousinattention, by playing to him on the harpsichord. All the time,however, the image of Cadurcis flitted across her vision, and shewas glad when her mother moved to retire, that she might enjoy theopportunity of pondering in silence and unobserved over the strangehistory that she had read.
London is a wonderful place! Four-and-twenty hours back, with afeeling of loneliness and depression amounting to pain, Venetia hadfled to sleep as her only refuge; now only a day had passed, andshe had both seen and heard many things that had alike startled andpleased her; had found powerful and charming friends; and laid herhead upon her pillow in a tumult of emotion that long banished slumberfrom her beautiful eyes.
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