As Lady Annabel entered the terrace-room, Doctor Masham came forward and grasped her hand.

‘You have heard of our sorrow!’ said her ladyship in a faint voice.

‘But this instant,’ replied the Doctor, in a tone of great anxiety.’ Immediate danger —’

‘Is past. She sleeps,’ replied Lady Annabel.

‘A most sudden and unaccountable attack,’ said the Doctor.

It is difficult to describe the contending emotions of the mother as her companion made this observation. At length she replied, ‘Sudden, certainly sudden; but not unaccountable. Oh! my friend,’ she added, after a moment’s pause, ‘they will not be content until they have torn my daughter from me.’

‘They tear your daughter from you!’ exclaimed Doctor Masham. ‘Who?’

‘He, he,’ muttered Lady Annabel; her speech was incoherent, her manner very disturbed.

‘My dear lady,’ said the Doctor, gazing on her with extreme anxiety, ‘you are yourself unwell.’

Lady Annabel heaved a deep sigh; the Doctor bore her to a seat. ‘Shall I send for any one, anything?’

‘No one, no one,’ quickly answered Lady Annabel. ‘With you, at least, there is no concealment necessary.’

She leant back in her chair, the Doctor holding her hand, and standing by her side.

Still Lady Annabel continued sighing deeply: at length she looked up and said, ‘Does she love me? Do you think, after all, she loves me?’

‘Venetia?’ inquired the Doctor, in a low and doubtful voice, for he was greatly perplexed.

‘She has seen him; she loves him; she has forgotten her mother.’

‘My dear lady, you require rest,’ said Doctor Masham. ‘You are overcome with strange fancies. Whom has your daughter seen?’

‘Marmion.’

‘Impossible! you forget he is —’

‘Here also. He has spoken to her: she loves him: she will recover: she will fly to him; sooner let us both die!’

‘Dear lady!’

‘She knows everything. Fate has baffled me; we cannot struggle with fate. She is his child; she is like him; she is not like her mother. Oh! she hates me; I know she hates me.’

‘Hush! hush! hush!’ said the Doctor, himself very agitated. ‘Venetia loves you, only you. Why should she love any one else?’

‘Who can help it? I loved him. I saw him. I loved him. His voice was music. He has spoken to her, and she yielded: she yielded in a moment. I stood by her bedside. She would not speak to me; she would not know me; she shrank from me. Her heart is with her father: only with him.’

‘Where did she see him? How?’

‘His room: his picture. She knows all. I was away with you, and she entered his chamber.’

‘Ah!’

‘Oh! Doctor, you have influence with her. Speak to her. Make her love me! Tell her she has no father; tell her he is dead.’

‘We will do that which is well and wise,’ replied Doctor Masham: ‘at present let us be calm; if you give way, her life may be the forfeit. Now is the moment for a mother’s love.’

‘You are right. I should not have left her for an instant. I would not have her wake and find her mother not watching over her. But I was tempted. She slept; I left her for a moment; I went to destroy the spell. She cannot see him again. No one shall see him again. It was my weakness, the weakness of long years; and now I am its victim.’

‘Nay, nay, my sweet lady, all will be quite well. Be but calm; Venetia will recover.’

‘But will she love me? Oh! no, no, no! She will think only of him. She will not love her mother. She will yearn for her father now. She has seen him, and she will not rest until she is in his arms. She will desert me, I know it............