Gerald now returned, supported by O’Kelly. The other servants, by his desire, had retired; and when he approached the spot were his child was laid, he requested even O’Kelly to leave him. He did so; and Mac Allain advanced towards lord Glenarvon. “Forgive a poor old man,” he said in a faltering voice: “I spoke too severely, my lord: a father’s curse in the agony of his first despair, shall not be heard. Oh lady Calantha,” said the old man, turning to her, “lord Glenarvon has been very noble and good to me; my sons had debts, and he paid all they owed: they had transgressed and he got them pardoned. You know not what I owe to my lord; and yet when he told me, this night, as I upbraided the wretch that had undone my child and was the cause of her dishonor and death, that it was himself had taken her from my heart; I knelt down and cursed him. Oh God, Oh God! pardon the agony of a wretched father, a poor old man who has lived too long.” Calantha could no longer master her feelings; her sobs, her cries were bitter and terrible. They wished to bear her forcibly away. O’Kelly insisted upon the necessity of her assuming at least some self command; and whispering to her, that if she betrayed any violent agitation, the whole affair must be made public: he promised himself to bring her word of every minute particular, if she would for a few hours at least remain tranquil. “I shall see you again,” she said, recovering herself and approaching Lord Glenarvon before she retired: “You are not going?” “Going!” said he: “undoubtedly I shall not leave the castle at this moment; it would look like fear; but after this, my dearest friend, I do not deceive myself, you cannot, you ought not more to think of me.” “I share your sorrows.” She said: “you are most miserable; think not then, that I can be otherwise.” “And can you still feel any interest for one like me? If I could believe this, even in the bitterness of affliction, I should still feel comfort:—but, you will learn to hate me.” “Never. Oh would to God I could; but it is too late now. I love you, Glenarvon, more than ever, even were it to death. Depend on me.” Glenarvon pressed her hand, in silence; then following her “for your dear sake, I will live,” he said. “You are my only hope now. Oh Calantha! how from my soul I honour you.” Calantha threw herself upon her bed; but her agitation was too great to allow of her recurring in thought to the past, and fatigue once again occasioned her taking a few moment’s rest. CHAPTER XXXV. When Lady Avondale awoke from her slumbers she found the whole castle in a state of confusion. Lady Margaret had twice sent for her. Every one was occupied with this extraordinary event. Her name, and Lord Glenarvon’s were mentioned together, and conjectures, concerning the whole scene, were made by every individual.