Glenarvon attempted to seize her hand. “Do you dare to detain me? Touch me not. I fear you.” ... “Elinor, to what perdition are you hastening? I adjure you by your former love, by Clare of Costoly, the boy for whom you affect such fondness, who still remains the favorite of my heart, return to your uncle. I will myself conduct you.” “Leave your hold, Glenarvon: force me not to shriek for succour.—Now that you have left me, I will speak calmly. Are you prepared to hear me?” “Speak.” “Do you see those turrets which stand alone, as if defying future storms? Do you behold that bleak and barren mountain, my own native mountain, which gave me the high thoughts and feelings I possess; which rears its head, hiding it only in the clouds? Look above: see the pale moon, that moon which has often witnessed our mutual vows, which has shone upon our parting tears, and which still appears to light us on our guilty way: by these, by thyself, thy glorious self, I swear I never will return to virtue: “For the heart that has once been estrang’d, With some newer affection may burn, It may change, as it ever has chang’d, But, oh! it can never return. “By these eyes, which you have termed bright and dear; by these dark shining locks, which your hands have oft entwined; by these lips, which, prest by yours, have felt the rapturous fire and tenderness of love—virtue and I are forsworn: and in me, whatever I may appear, henceforward know that I am your enemy. Yes, Glenarvon, I am another’s now.” “You can never love another as you have loved me: you will find no other like me.” “He is as fair and dear, therefore detain me not. I would rather toil for bread, or beg from strangers, than ever more owe to you one single, one solitary favour. Farewell—How I have adored, you know: how I have been requited, think—when sorrows as acute as those you have inflicted visit you. Alice, it is said, blest you with her dying breath. Calantha is of the same soft mould; but there are deeds of horror, and hearts of fire:—the tygress has been known to devour her young; and lions, having tasted blood, have fed upon the bowels of their masters.” St. Clare, as she spoke, stood upon the edge of the high cliff to which they had ascended. The moon shone brightly on her light figure, which seemed to spring from the earth, as if impelled forward by the strength of passion. The belt of gold which surrounded her slender waist burst, as if unable longer to contain the proud swelling of her heart: she threw the mantle from her shoulders; and raising the hat and plume from her head, waved it high in the air: then darting forward, she fled hastily from the grasp of Glenarvon, who watched her lessening form till it appeared like a single speck in the distance, scarce visible to the eye. CHAPTER LXXV.