The moment Herbert had recognised his wife he had dexterously disengaged himself from the grasp of Venetia, whom he left on the chair, and meeting Lady Annabel with extended arms, that seemed to deprecate her wrath, he said, ’I seek not to deprive you of her; she is yours, and she is worthy of you; but respect, for a few moments, the feelings of a father who has met his only child in a manner so unforeseen.’

The presence of her mother instantaneously restored Venetia to herself.  Her mind was in a moment cleared and settled.  Her past and peculiar life, and all its incidents, recurred to her with their accustomed order, vividness, and truth.  She thoroughly comprehended her present situation.  Actuated by long-cherished feelings and the necessity of the occasion, she rose and threw herself at her mother’s feet and exclaimed, ‘O mother! he is my father, love him!’

Lady Annabel stood with an averted countenance, Venetia clinging to her hand, which she had caught when she rushed forward, and which now fell passive by Lady Annabel’s side, giving no sign, by any pressure or motion, of the slightest sympathy with her daughter, or feeling for the strange and agonising situation in which they were both placed.

‘Annabel,’ said Herbert, in a voice that trembled, though the speaker struggled to appear calm, ’be charitable!  I have never intruded upon your privacy; I will not now outrage it.  Accident, or some diviner motive, has brought us together this day.  If you will not treat me with kindness, look not upon me with aversion before our child.’

Still she was silent and motionless, her countenance hidden from her husband and her daughter, but her erect and haughty form betokening her inexorable mind.  ‘Annabel,’ said Herbert, who had now withdrawn to some distance, and leant against a pillar, ’will not then nearly twenty years of desolation purchase one moment of intercourse?  I have injured you.  Be it so.  This is not the moment I will defend myself.  But have I not suffered?  Is not this meeting a punishment deeper even than your vengeance could devise?  Is it nothing to behold this beautiful child, and feel that she is only yours?  Annabel, look on me, look on me only one moment!  My frame is bowed, my hair is grey, my heart is withered; the principle of existence waxes faint and slack in this attenuated frame.  I am no longer that Herbert on whom you once smiled, but a man stricken with many sorrows.  The odious conviction of my life cannot long haunt you; yet a little while, and my memory will alone remain.  Think of this, Annabel; I beseech you, think of it.  Oh! believe me, when the speedy hour arrives that will consign me to the grave, where I shall at least find peace, it will not be utterly without satisfaction that you will remember that we met if even by accident, and parted at least not with harshness!’

‘Mother, dearest mother!’ murmured Venetia, ’speak to him, look on him!’