In vain the Admiral urged every one he met to pursue Calantha. The moment had been seized, and no power can withstand, no after attempt can regain the one favourable moment that is thus snatched from fate. The castle presented a scene of the utmost confusion and distress. Miss Seymour was indignant; the servants were in commotion; the greatest publicity was given to the event from the ill judged indiscretion of the Admiral. Mrs. Seymour alone, was kept in ignorance; the Duke coldly, in reply to the enquiry of what was to be done, affirmed that no step should be taken unless, of herself, the unhappy Calantha returned to seek the pardon and protection of those friends whom she had so rashly abandoned, and so cruelly misused. Yet, notwithstanding the prohibition every place was searched, every measure to save was thought of, and all without success. Sir Richard then set down with Annabel in his arms, and the little boy by his side, crying more piteously than the nurse who stood opposite encreasing the general disturbance, by her loud and ill-timed lamentations. “If my Lord had not been the best of husbands, there would have been some excuse for my Lady.” “None Nurse—none whatever;” sobbed forth Sir Richard, in a voice scarcely audible, between passion and vexation. “She was a good mother, poor Lady: that I will say for her.” “She was a d——d wife though,” cried Sir Richard; “and that I must say for her.” After which, the children joining, the cries and sobs were renewed by the nurse, and Sir Richard, with more violence than at first. “I never thought it would have come to this,” said the nurse, first recovering. “Lord ma’am, I knew it would end ill, when I saw those d——d green ribbands”.... “Who would have thought such a pretty looking gentleman would have turned out such a villain!” “He is no gentleman at all,” said Sir Richard angrily. “He is a rebel, an outcast. Shame upon him.” And then again the nurse’s cries checked his anger, and he wept more audibly than before.