“Have mercy,” still repeated Lady Avondale; but it was but faintly. “I’ll never have mercy for one like you, serpent, who having been fondled in his bosom, bit him to the heart. Are you not ashamed to look at me?” Calantha’s tears had flowed in the presence of her husband; but now they ceased. Sir Richard softened in his manner. “Our chances in life are as in a lottery,” he said; “and if one who draws the highest prize of all, throws it away in very wantonness, and then sits down to mourn for it, who will be so great a hypocrite, or so base a flatterer, as to affect compassion? You had no pity for him: you ought not to be forgiven.” “Can you answer it to yourself to refuse me one interview? Can you have the heart to speak with such severity to one already fallen?” “Madam, why do you appeal to me? What are you approaching me for? What can I do?” “Oh, there will be curses on your head, Sir Richard, for this; but I will follow him. There is no hope for me but in seeing him myself.” “There is no hope at all, madam,” said Sir Richard, triumphantly: “he’s my own nephew; and he acts as he ought. Lady Avondale, he desires you may be treated with every possible respect. Your children will be left with you, as long as your conduct——” “Will he see me?” “Never.” CHAPTER LXXXVII. Sir Richard ordered his carriage at twelve that evening, and did not even tell Lady Avondale that he was going from the castle. Calantha, fatigued with the exertions of the day, too ill and too agitated to leave her room, threw herself upon the bed near her little son. Mac Allain and the nurse spoke with her; promised to perform her last injunctions; then left her to herself. The soft breathing of Harry Mowbrey, who slept undisturbed beside her, soothed and composed her mind. Her thoughts now travelled back with rapidity over the varied scenes of her early and happier days: her life appeared before her like a momentary trance—like a dream that leaves a feverish and indistinct alarm upon the mind. The span of existence recurred in memory to her view, and with it all its hopes, its illusions, and its fears. She started with abhorrence at every remembrance of her former conduct, her infidelity and neglect to the best and kindest of husbands—her disobedience to an honoured parent’s commands. Tears of agonizing remorse streamed from her eyes.