Such depression continued during the gloomy wintry months; but with the first warm breeze of spring, they left her; and in the month of May, she prepared to join the splendid party which was expected at Castle Delaval—as gay in heart herself as if she had never moralized upon the perishableness of all human happiness. Upon a cool and somewhat dreary morning in the month of May, Calantha left Monteith, and, sleeping one night at Allenwater, hastened to Castle Delaval, where blazing hearths and joyous countenances, gave her a cheering welcome. Lady Mandeville and Lady Augusta had, according to promise, arrived there a week before, to the utter consternation of Mrs. Seymour. Calantha perceived in one moment, that she was not extremely well with her or with her cousins upon this account. Indeed the former scarcely offered her her hand, such a long detail of petty offences had been registered against her, since they had last parted. It was also justly imputed to Calantha that Lady Mandeville had been invited to the Castle. A stately dignity was therefore assumed by Sophia and Mrs. Seymour on this occasion: they scarce permitted themselves to smile during the whole time Lady Mandeville remained, for fear, as Calantha concluded, that Satan, taking advantage of a moment of levity, should lead them into further evil. The being compelled to live in company with one of her character, was more than enough. “I am enraptured at your arrival,” said Lady Augusta, flying towards Calantha, the moment she perceived her. “You are come at the happiest time: you will be diverted here in no ordinary manner: the days of romance, are once again displayed to our wondering view.” “Yes,” said Lady Trelawney, “not a day passes without an adventure.” Before Calantha enquired into the meaning of this, she advanced to Lady Mandeville, who, languidly reclining upon a couch, smiled sweetly on seeing her. Secure of the impression she had made, she waited to be sought, and throwing her arm around her, gave her kisses so soft and so tender, that she could not immediately extricate herself from her embrace. Lady Augusta, eager to talk, exclaimed—“Did you meet any of the patrole?” “I was reading the address to the united Irishmen,” said Calantha, who could hear and think of nothing else. “Are you aware who is the author?” “No; but it is so eloquent, so animated, I was quite alarmed when I thought how it must affect the people.” “You shock me, Calantha,” said Mrs. Seymour. “The absurd rhapsody you mean, is neither eloquent nor animating: it is a despicable attempt to subvert the government, a libel upon the English, and a poor piece of flattery to delude the infatuated malcontents in Ireland.” Lady Augusta winked at Calantha, as if informing her that she touched upon a sore subject. “The author,” said Lady Trelawney, who affected to be an enthusiast, “is Lord Glenarvon.”