It was a summer day, and they walked through that very wood wherein we described the journey of the child Venetia, at the commencement of this very history. The blue patches of wild hyacinths had all disappeared, but there were flowers as sweet. What if the first feelings of our heart fade, like the first flowers of spring, succeeding years, like the coming summer, may bring emotions not less charming, and, perchance, far more fervent!
'I can scarcely believe,' said Lord Cadurcis, 'that I am once more with you. I know not what surprises me most, Venetia, that we should be walking once more together in the woods of Cherbury, or that I ever should have dared to quit them.'
'And yet it was better, dear George,' said Venetia. 'You must now
rejoice that you have fulfilled your duty, and yet you are here again.
Besides, the abbey never would have been finished if you had remained.
To complete all our plans, it required a mistress.'
'I wish it always had one,' said George. 'Ah, Venetia! once you told me never to despair.'
'And what have you to despair about, George?'
'Heigh ho!' said Lord Cadurcis, 'I never shall be able to live in this abbey alone.'
'You should have brought a wife from London,' said Venetia.
'I told you once, Venetia, that I was not a marrying man,' said Lord
Cadurcis; 'and certainly I never shall bring a wife from London.'
'Then you cannot accustom yourself too soon to a bachelor's life,' said Venetia.
'Ah, Venetia!' said George, 'I wish I were clever; I wish I were a genius; I wish I were a great man.'