"I can never love again," said Glenarvon, still holding her hand: "never. There will be no danger in my friendship," he said after a moments thought: "none; for I am cold as the grave—as death; and all here," he said pressing her hand upon his heart, "is chilled, lost, absorbed. They will speak ill of me," he continued rather mournfully; "and you will learn to hate me." "I! never, never. I will defend you, if abused; I will hate those who hate you; I—" He smiled: "How infatuated you are," he said, "poor little thing that seeks to destroy itself. Have you not then heard what I have done?" "I have heard much" said Calantha, "but I know—I feel it is false." "It is all too true," said Lord Glenarvon carelessly:—"all quite true; and there is much worse yet:"—"But it is no matter," he continued; "the never dying worm feeds upon my heart: I am like death, Lady Avondale; and all beneath is seared."
