Venetia

tails with infinite enjoyment and conscious pride, and Lady Annabel came forth with her little daughter, to breathe the renovating odours of the season. The air was scented with the violet,

little Venetia,

y Annabel, ‘beautiful spring! The year

mmer!’ replied the child; and the mother smiled. ‘An

dy Annabel, looking down with fondness on her lit

beautiful,’

appy,’ said Lady Annabel; ‘to be

od?’ sai

,’ said La

‘I wonder whether, if I be alwa

love; but happiness depends upon the will of

unhappy, mamma?’

onscience,

id Venetia: ‘wha

y Annabel, ‘but some day I will teach you. Mamma is now go

ealous and devoted, somewhat consequential, full of energy and decision, capable of directing, fond of giving advice, and habituated to command. The Lady Annabel, leading her daughter, and accompanied by her faithfu

their beds spread like patches of blue enamel, and gave them to Mistress Pauncefort, who, as the collection increased, handed them over to the groom; who, in turn, deposited them in the wicker seat prepared for his young mistress. The bright sun

nce was formed by an undulating ridge of lofty and savage hills; nearer than these were gentler elevations, partially wooded; and at their base was a rich valley, its green meads fed by a clear and rapid stream, which glittered in the sun as it coursed on, losing itself at length in a wild and sedgy lake that formed the furthest limit of a wid

ng by their presence the view from the abbey, Lady Annabel and her party entered the me

longer used; there were empty granaries, whose doors had fallen from their hinges; the gate of the courtyard was prostrate on the ground; and the silent clock that once adorned the cupola over the noble entrance arch, had long lost its index. Even the litter of the yard appeared dusty and grey with age. You felt sure no human foot could have disturbed it for years. At the back of these buildings were nailed th

entrance into the old abbey. It is strange, fond as I am of this walk, that we have never yet en

but a considerable time elapsed without any other effect being produced. Perhaps Lady Annabel would have now given up the attempt, but the little Venetia expressed so much regr

stress Pauncefort, ‘for they do say

all its desolation, there is something about

no one live her

he abbey lives a

es he,

ress Pauncefort, in a hushed and solemn tone;

o lived in the abbey, except his wife, and she was bedridden. The old man had promised to admit them whe

’ said Lady Annabel, seating herself in the por

is the name of the gentlema

adurcis

Lord Cadurcis lives abroa

native country, and dwell in another, my love,’ said Lady Ann

rcis, mamma?’

or anything of him, except that he i

nd the falling of a chain, and at length the massy door slowly

ks a bit. You must walk about by yourselves, for I have no breath, and my mistress is bedri

xquisite skill by some gothic artist in one of those capricious moods of sportive invention that produced those grotesque medleys for whi

nting the Cartoons of Raffael, and their still vivid colours contrasted with the faded hangings and the dingy damask of the chairs and sofas. A mass of Cromwellian armour was huddled together in a corner of a long monkish gallery, with a standard, encrusted with dust, and a couple of old drums, one broken. From one of the windows they had a

oly,’ said Lady Anna

a, ‘are there any gh

‘it seems a spell-bound place. But, Venetia, I have

n ghosts, mamma, for I cann

knowledge, you will not believe in

ecline when they again reached Cherbury, and the air was brisk. Lady Annabel was glad to find herself by her fireside