the interval, to the service of the cart and the plough, made their
appearance, after much bustle and effort, before the hall-door.
Although 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 separated one hour in her life. Venetia could not refrain from
shedding a tear when her mother embraced and quitted her, and begged,
as a last favour, that she might accompany her through the park to
the avenue lodge. So Pauncefort and herself entered the chariot, that
rocked like a ship, in spite of all the skill of the coachman and the
postilion.

Venetia walked home with Mistress Pauncefort, but Lady Annabel's
little daughter was not in her usual lively spirits; many a butterfly
glanced around without attracting her pursuit, and the deer trooped
by without eliciting a single observation. At length she said, in a
thoughtful tone, 'Mistress Pauncefort, I should have liked to have
gone and seen the little boy.'

'You shall go and see him another day, Miss,' replied her attendant.

'Mistress Pauncefort,' said Venetia, 'are you a widow?'

Mistress Pauncefort almost started; had the inquiry been made by a
man, she would almost have supposed he was going to be very rude. She
was indeed much surprised.

'And pray, Miss Venetia, what could put it in your head to ask such an