ABSTRACT
It happened one morning that Calantha, having been walking with Lord Glenarvon, upon her return entered the library rather unexpectedly, and perceived Zerbellini with the Count Gondimar and Lady Margaret. They all seemed in some confusion at her entrance. She was however too deeply occupied with other thoughts to enquire into their strange embarrassment; and looking at Glenarvon, she watched the varying expression of his countenance with anxious solicitude. At dinner that daya he seated himself near her. Mrs. Seymour’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘It is too late,’ he said, in a low whisper: ‘be firm: it makes me mad to see the arts that are used to separate us. Speak only to me – think only of me. What avail their frowns. / their reproaches? I am dearer, am I not than all?’
