“Consent to see him no more. Say it, my child, and all shall be forgotten—I will forgive you.”—“I must see him once more—ah! once more; and if he consents, I will obey.”—“Good God! do I live to hear such words? It is then to Lord Glenarvon’s mercy, and to no effort of your own, that I am to owe your amendment? See him then, but do it in defiance of my positive commands:—see him, Calantha; but the vengeance of an offended God, the malediction of a father fall on thee for thy disobedience:—see him if it be thy mad resolve; but meet my eyes no more. A lover may be found at any time; but a father, once offended, is lost for ever: his will should be sacred; and the God of Heaven may see fit to withdraw his mercy from a disobedient child.” The Duke, as he spoke these words, trembling with passion, and darting an angry eye upon Calantha, left her. The door closed. She stood suspended—uncertain how to act.— At length recovering, she seized a pen, and wrote to Glenarvon.—“I am miserable; but let me, at all events, spare you. Come not to the Castle. Write to me: it is all I ask. I must quit you for ever. Oh, Glenarvon, I must indeed see you no more; or involve all whom I love, and yourself who art far dearer, in my disgrace. Let me hear from you immediately. You must decide for me: I have no will on earth but yours—no hope but in the continuance of your love. Do not call me weak. Write to me: say you approve; for if you do not, I cannot obey.” Having sent her letter with some fear, she went to Mrs. Seymour, who was far from well, and had been some days confined to her room. She endeavoured to conceal from her what had passed in the morning respecting her father. Mrs. Seymour spoke but little to her, she seemed unequal to the task imposed upon her by others, of telling Calantha that which she knew would cause her pain. She was dreadfully agitated, and, holding her niece’s hand, seemed desirous she should not leave her for any length of time.