‘Oh! the truth, the truth is precious,’ said Cadurcis, taking her hand, and preventing her from moving.  ’Your mother, your devoted mother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.  Yet there is another.  Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow’s sun shall light me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blend my tears with your father’s, and I will publish to Europe the double infamy of your mother.  I swear it solemnly.  Still I stand here, Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, her dutiful son.  Nay! her slave like you.  She shall not murmur.  I will be dutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy,’ he added in a softer tone.  ’Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now, now.’

‘I have spoken,’ said Venetia.  ’My heart may break, but my purpose shall not falter.’

‘Then my curse upon your mother’s head?’ said Cadurcis, with terrible vehemency.  ‘May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!’

‘I will listen no more,’ exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she moved away.  She had proceeded some little distance when she paused and looked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did not observe her.  She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; she did not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them as abruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given.  Her heart was nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting in bitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.  She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in that silent spot it reached him.  He joined her immediately, but with a slow step.  When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in a frigid tone, ‘I believe you called me?’

Venetia burst into tears.  ’I cannot bear to part in anger, Plantagenet.  I wished to say farewell in kindness.  I shall always pray for your happiness.  God bless you, Plantagenet!’

Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about to speak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned his steps in a different direction.

CHAPTER XVI.

Venetia stopped for a moment to collect herself before she joined her aunt, but it was impossible to conceal her agitation from the Countess.  They had not, however, been long together before they observed their friends in the distance, who had now quitted the palace.  Venetia made the utmost efforts to compose herself, and not unsuccessful ones.  She was sufficiently calm on their arrival, to listen, if not to converse.  The Countess, with all the tact of a woman, covered her niece’s confusion by her animated description of their agreeable ride, and their still more pleasant promenade; and in a few minutes the whole party were walking back to their carriages.  When they had arrived at the inn, they found Lord Cadurcis, to whose