Venetia

ention of paying Mrs. Cadurcis a visit; ‘and so I would, my lady,’ said Mistress Pauncefort, ‘and it would be but an act of Christian charity after all, as the Doctor says; for although it is n

ood; and Miss Venetia too, after all, she wants a playfellow; I am certain sure that I was as tired of playing at ball with

od by the word society, my good Pauncefort, I certainly shou

nd balls, Ranelagh, and the masquerades. I can’t abide the thought of them, I do assure your ladyship; all I meant was that a quiet dinner now and then

s a widow, with a very slender fortune. Her son will not enjoy his estate until he is of age, and its rental is small. I am led to believe that they will l

isitors and noble valets; ‘I am always content, you know, when your la’ship is; but, I must say, I think it is very odd for a lord to be so poor. I neve

smiled, but d

a morning’s stroll from Cherbury through the woods, Cadurcis was distant nearly ten miles by the road, and that road was in great part impassable, save in favourable seasons. This visit, therefore, was an expedition; and Lady Annabel, fearing the fatigue for a child, determined to leave Venetia at home, from whom she had actually never been sep

a butterfly glanced around without attracting her pursuit, and the deer trooped by without eliciting a single observation

him another day, Miss,

rt,’ said Venetia,

en made by a man, she would almost have supposed he wa

question?’ exclaimed Mistress Pauncefort. ‘A widow! Miss Venetia; I have

ge their names?

mes when they marry,’ resp

rried?’ inqu

strangest questions. Married! to be sure she is marr

ried to?’ pursued th

and looking very confused; ‘that is to say, Miss Venetia, you are never to a

ot pretty?’

your mamma does not like you to ask such questions, and she wil

Pauncefort,’ said Venetia,

s Venetia? There is

imed Venetia.

claimed Mistress Pauncefort. ‘Did you e

es today, Mistress Pauncefort;

!’ exclaimed Mistress Paunce

the ladies I read about had papas, and marr

lls you that all those books you read are a pack of stories,

t true that there never were such things as papas and husbands, for a

said Mistress Paun

ma too?’ s

s ever lived,’ said

fe that has lost her husband, and that, mam

laimed Mistress Pauncefort. ‘

oth be widows,’ said Venetia, ‘and both have a little child; the on

eir names mentioned,’ said Mistress Pauncefort; ‘and so you m

t now,’ sa

upon the page, and apparently she was absorbed in her pursuit, but her mind wandered, and the page was never turned. She indulged in an unconscious reverie; her fancy was with her mother on her visit; the old abbey rose up before her: she painted the scene without an effort: the court, with the fountain; the grand room, with the tapestry hangings; that desolate garden, with the fallen statues; and that long, gloomy gallery. And in all these scenes appeared that little boy, who