“From this hour,” said Calantha, indignation burning in her bosom, “we never more, Lady Margaret, will interchange one word with each other. I renounce you entirely; and think you all that you have dared to say against my loved, my adored Glenarvon.” Lady Margaret sought Calantha before she retired for the night, and laughed at her for her conduct. “Your rage, your absurdity but excite my contempt. Calantha, how puerile this violence appears to me; above all, how useless. Now from the earliest day of my remembrance can any one say of me that they beheld me forgetful of my own dignity from the violence of my passions. Yet I feel, think you not, and have made others feel. Your childish petulance but operates against yourself. What are threats, blows and mighty words from a woman. When I am offended, I smile; and when I stab deepest, then I can look as if I had forgiven. Your friends talk of you with kindness or unkindness as it suits their fancy: some love; some pity, but none fear Calantha. Your very servants, though you boast of their attachment, despise and laugh at you. Your husband caresses you as a mistress, but of your conduct he takes not even heed. What is the affection of the crowd? what the love of man? make yourself feared! Then, if you are not esteemed, at least you are outwardly honoured, and that reserve, that self-controul, which you never sought even to obtain, keeps ordinary minds in alarm. Many hate me; but who dares even name me without respect. Yourself, Calantha, even at this moment, are ready to fall upon my bosom and weep, because I have offended you. Come child—your hand. I fain would save you, but you must hear much that pains you, before I can hope even to succeed. Only remember: ‘_si vous vous faites brebi le loup vous mangera_.’” She smiled as she said this, and Calantha, half offended, gave her the hand for which she solicited. CHAPTER XXXVI. Mrs. Seymour was now extremely unwell, the least agitation was dreaded for her. Calantha was constantly enquiring after her; but could not bear to remain long in her presence. Yet at night she watched by her, when she did not know of it; and though she had ceased to pray for herself, she prayed for her. Could it be supposed that, at such a moment, any personal feelings would engage Calantha to add to her uneasiness. Alas! she sought in the last resources of guilt to alleviate every apprehension she might cherish; she feigned a calm she felt not; she made every promise she meant not to fulfil; she even spoke of Glenarvon with some severity for his conduct to Alice; and when Mrs. Seymour rejoiced at her escape, she pressed her hand and wept. Lady Margaret, from the day of their quarrel, cold and stern, ever arose to leave the room when Calantha entered it, and Mrs. Seymour seeing resentment kindling in her niece’s eye, in the gentlest manner urged her to bear with her aunt’s humour.