CHAPTER VII.
Venetia soon found that she must bid adieu for ever, in London, to herold habits of solitude. She soon discovered that she was never to bealone. Her aunt called upon them early in the morning, and said thatthe whole day must be devoted to their court dresses; and in a fewminutes they were all whirled off to a celebrated milliner's. Afterinnumerable consultations and experiments, the dress of Venetia wasdecided on; her aunt and Lady Annabel were both assured that it wouldexceed in splendour and propriety any dress at the drawing-room.Indeed, as the great artist added, with such a model to work fromit would reflect but little credit on the establishment, if anyapproached Miss Herbert in the effect she must inevitably produce.
While her mother was undergoing some of those attentions to whichVenetia had recently submitted, and had retired for a few minutes intoan adjoining apartment, our little lady of Cherbury strolled about thesaloon in which she had been left, until her attention was attractedby a portrait of a young man in an oriental dress, standing verysublimely amid the ruins of some desert city; a palm tree in thedistance, and by his side a crouching camel, and some recumbentfollowers slumbering amid the fallen columns.
'That is Lord Cadurcis, my love,' said her aunt, who at the momentjoined her, 'the famous poet. All the young ladies are in love withhim. I dare say you know his works by heart.'
'No, indeed, aunt,' said Venetia; 'I have never even read them; but Ishould like very much.'
'Not read Lord Cadurcis' poems! Oh! we must go and get them directlyfor you. Everybody reads them. You will be looked upon quite as alittle barbarian. We will stop the carriage at Stockdale's, and getthem for you.'
At this moment Lady Annabel rejoined them; and, having made all theirarrangements, they re-entered the carriage.
'Stop at Stockdale's,' said her ladyship to the servant; 'I mustget Cadurcis' last poem for Venetia. She will be quite back in herlearning, Annabel.'
'Cadurcis' last poem!' said Lady Annabel; 'do you mean Lord Cadurcis?Is he a poet?'
'To he sure! Well, you are countrified not to know Lord Cadurcis!'
'I know him very well,' said Lady Annabel, gravely; 'but I did notknow he was a poet.'
The Countess laughed, the carriage stopped, the book was brought; LadyAnnabel looked uneasy, and tried to catch her daughter's countenance,but, strange to say, for the first time in her life was quiteunsuccessful. The Countess took the book, and immediately gave itVenetia. 'There, my dear,' said her aunt, 'there never was anything socharming. I am so provoked that Cadurcis is a Whig.'
'A Whig!' said Lady Annabel; 'he was not a Whig when I knew him.'
'Oh! my dear, I am afraid he is worse than a Whig. He is almost arebel! But then he is such a genius! Everything is allowed, you know,to a genius!' said the thoughtless sister-in-law.
Lady Annabel was silent; but the stillness of her emotion must not bejudged from the stillness of her tongue. Her astonishment at all shehad heard was only equalled by what we may justly term her horror. Itwas impossible that she could have listened to any communication atthe same time so astounding, and to her so fearful.
'We knew Lord Cadurcis when he was very young, aunt,' said Venetia, ina quiet tone. 'He lived near mamma, in the country.'
'Oh! my dear Annabel, if you see him in town bring him to me; he isthe most difficult person in the world to get to one's house, and Iwould give anything if he would come and dine with me.'
The Countess at last set her relations down at their hotel. When LadyAnnabel was once more alone with her daughter, she said, 'Venetia,dearest, give me that book your aunt lent you.'
Venetia immediately handed it to her, but her mother did not open it;but saying, 'The Bishop dines at four, darling; I think it is time forus to dress,' Lady Annabel left the room.
To say the truth, Venetia was less surprised than disappointed by thisconduct of her mother's; but she was not apt to murmur, and she triedto dismiss the subject from her thoughts.
It was with unfeigned delight that the kind-hearted Masham welcomedunder his own roof his two best and dearest friends. He had askednobody to meet them; it was settled that they were to be quite alone,and to talk of nothing but Cherbury and Marringhurst. When they wereseated at table, the Bishop, who had been detained at the House ofLords, and been rather hurried to be in time to receive his guests,turned to his servant and inquired whether any one had called.
'Yes, my lord, Lord Cadurcis,' was the reply.
'Our old companion,' said the Bishop to Lady Annabel, with asmile. 'He has called upon me twice, and I have on both occasionsunfortunately been absent.'
Lady Annabel merely bowed an assent to the Bishop's remark. Venetialonged to speak, but found it impossible. 'What is it that repressesme?' she asked herself. 'Is there to be another forbidden subjectinsensibly to arise between us? I must struggle against thisindefinable despotism that seems to pervade my life.'
'Have you met Lord Cadurcis, sir?' at length asked Venetia.
'Once; we resumed our acquaintance at a dinner party one day; but Ishall soon see a great deal of him, for he has just taken his seat. Heis of age, you know.'
'I hope he has come to years of discretion in every sense,' said LadyAnnabel; 'but I fear not.'
'Oh, my dear lady!' said the Bishop, 'he has become a great man; he isour star. I assure you there is nobody in London talked of but LordCadurcis. He asked me a great deal after you and Cherbury. He will bedelighted to see you.'
'I cannot say,' replied Lady Annabel, 'that the desire of meeting isat all mutual. From all I hear, our connections and opinions are verydifferent, and I dare say our habits likewise.'
'My aunt lent us his new poem to-day,' said Venetia, boldly.
'Have you read it?' asked the Bishop.
'I am no admirer of modern poetry,' said Lady Annabel, somewhattartly.
'Poetry of any kind is not much in my way,' said the Bishop, 'but ifyou like to read his poems, I will lend them to you, for he gave me acopy; esteemed a great honour, I assure you.'
'Thank you, my lord,' said Lady Annabel, 'both Venetia and myselfare much engaged now; and I do not wish her to read while she is inLondon. When we return to Cherbury she will have abundance of time, ifdesirable.'
Both Venetia and her worthy host felt that the present subject ofconversation was not agreeable to Lady Annabel, and it was changed.They fell upon more gracious topics, and in spite of this somewhatsullen commencement the meeting was quite as delightful as theyanticipated. Lady Annabel particularly exerted herself to please, and,as was invariably the case under such circumstances with this lady,she was eminently successful; she apparently endeavoured, by herremarkable kindness to her daughter, to atone for any unpleasantfeeling which her previous manner might for an instant haveoccasioned. Venetia watched her beautiful and affectionate parent,as Lady Annabel now dwelt with delight upon the remembrance of theirhappy home, and now recurred to the anxiety she naturally felt abouther daughter's approaching presentation, with feelings of love andadmiration, which made her accuse herself for the recent rebellion ofher heart. She thought only of her mother's sorrows, and her devotionto her child; and, grateful for the unexpected course of circumstanceswhich seemed to be leading every member of their former little societyto honour and happiness, she resolved to persist in that career ofduty and devotion to her mother, from which it seemed to her she hadnever deviated for a moment but to experience sorrow, misfortune, andremorse. Never did Venetia receive her mother's accustomed embraceand blessing with more responsive tenderness and gratitude thanthis night. She banished Cadurcis and his poems from her thoughts,confident that, so long as her mother approved neither of hercontinuing his acquaintance, nor perusing his writings, it was wellthat the one should be a forgotten tie, and the other a sealed book.
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