‘For myself,’ said Herbert, ’if I ever had the power to impress my creations on my fellow-men, the inclination is gone, and perhaps the faculty is extinct.  My career is over; perhaps a solitary echo from my lyre may yet, at times, linger about the world like a breeze that has lost its way.  But there is a radical fault in my poetic mind, and I am conscious of it.  I am not altogether void of the creative faculty, but mine is a fragmentary mind; I produce no whole.  Unless you do this, you cannot last; at least, you cannot materially affect your species.  But what I admire in you, Cadurcis, is that, with all the faults of youth, of which you will free yourself, your creative power is vigorous, prolific, and complete; your creations rise fast and fair, like perfect worlds.’

‘Well, we will not compliment each other,’ said Cadurcis; ’for, after all, it is a miserable craft.  What is poetry but a lie, and what are poets but liars?’

‘You are wrong, Cadurcis,’ said Herbert, ’poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.’

‘I see the towers of Porto Venere,’ said Cadurcis directing the sail; ’we shall soon be on shore.  I think, too, I recognise Venetia.  Ah! my dear Herbert, your daughter is a poem that beats all our inspiration!’

CHAPTER IX.

One circumstance alone cast a gloom over this happy family, and that was the approaching departure of Captain Cadurcis for England.  This had been often postponed, but it could be postponed no longer.  Not even the entreaties of those kind friends could any longer prevent what was inevitable.  The kind heart, the sweet temper, and the lively and companionable qualities of Captain Cadurcis, had endeared him to everyone; all felt that his departure would occasion a blank in their life, impossible to be supplied.  It reminded the Herberts also painfully of their own situation, in regard to their native country, which they were ever unwilling to dwell upon.  George talked of returning to them, but the prospect was necessarily vague; they felt that it was only one of those fanciful visions with which an affectionate spirit attempts to soothe the pang of separation.  His position, his duties, all the projects of his life, bound him to England, from which, indeed, he had been too long absent.  It was selfish to wish that, for their sakes, he should sink down into a mere idler in Italy; and yet, when they recollected how little his future life could be connected with their own, everyone felt dispirited.

‘I shall not go boating to-day,’ said George to Venetia; ’it is my last day.  Mr. Herbert and Plantagenet talk of going to Lavenza; let us take a stroll together.’

Nothing can be refused to those we love on the last day, and Venetia immediately acceded to his request.  In the course of the morning, therefore, herself and George quitted the valley, in the direction of the coast towards Genoa.  Many a white sail glittered on the blue waters; it was a lively and cheering scene; but both Venetia and her companion were depressed.