'The house is still, mother.'
'I would you were in bed, my child.'
'Mother, I can sleep no more. I wish to be with you;' and Venetia seated herself at her mother's feet, and reclined her head upon her mother's knee.
'I am glad the night has passed, Venetia,' said Lady Annabel, in a suppressed yet solemn tone. 'It has been a trial.' And here she placed the letter in her bosom. Venetia could only answer with a sigh.
'I wish Pauncefort would come,' said Lady Annabel; 'and yet I do not like to rouse her, she was up so late, poor creature! If it be the dawn I should like to send out messengers again; something may be heard at Spezzia.'
'Vicenzo thinks they have gone to Leghorn, mother.'
'Has he heard anything!' said Lady Annabel, eagerly.
'No, but he is an excellent judge,' said Venetia, repeating all Pauncefort's consolatory chatter. 'He knows the coast so well. He says he is sure the wind would carry them on to Leghorn; and that accounts, you know, mother, for George not returning. They are all at Leghorn.'
'Would that George would return,' murmured Lady Annabel; 'I wish I could see again that sailor who said they were at Lerici. He was an intelligent man.'
'Perhaps if we send down to the bay he may be there,' said Venetia.'