“Oh! a quarrel with my father,” exclaimed Charles, who, in the enthusiasm of his blind devotion to Perdita, had forgotten the old woman’s presence. “He has played the part of a spy upon me—he has followed me to your door—he knows that I visit you—and he will doubtless endeavour to cause a breach between us!”
“Let us depart hence—now—at a moment’s warning!” cried Perdita. “We have ample funds for the purpose. Last night a money-lender discounted your note, Charles: and I have the proceeds safe in my own keeping.”
“Fortune favours us, then!” said the infatuated young man. “Yes—we will depart without delay: we will hasten to some retired place where we can deliberate, fearless of interruption, on the course which it will now be necessary for me to pursue.”
“I will hasten to order a past-chaise,” observed Mrs. Fitzhardinge. “This task had better be performed by myself—so that we may leave behind us no trace of the route we shall have taken.”
“Thanks—a thousand thanks, my dear madam!” cried Charles: then, when the old woman had left the room, he caught Perdita in his arms and pressing her fondly to his bosom, said, “My parents are resolved to force me into a marriage with Lady Frances Ellingham—they would separate me from you——”
“Oh! Charles—were such a destiny in store for me,” said Perdita, affecting to be melted to tears, “I should not be able to bear up against the misfortune. For on you are all my hopes now fixed,—to you have I given my heart—irrevocably given it;—and were you the veriest mendicant on the face of the earth, I would never cease to love you as now I love!”
“Adored Perdita!” cried the young man, enraptured by the tender words and the enchanting manner of the syren, as he strained her to his breast and imprinted a thousand kisses on her brow, her cheeks, and her lips. “Oh! never—never could I prove faithless to thee, my beloved Perdita! Would that you were mine indissolubly—that you were mine by the rites of the Church and the sanction of the law;—for then we might defy the world to separate us!”
“Would you have me renounce the peculiar opinions which I have formed?” asked Perdita, her heart palpitating with joy—for the young man had thus, of his own accord, broached the delicate subject on which she longed to speak, yet knew not how to begin. “Because, if such be your wish, my beloved Charles, I will make even the sacrifice of my strongest prejudices to your heart’s desire——”
“Now, indeed, do I know that you love me, sweetest—dearest girl!” interrupted Charles, experiencing ineffable happiness at the idea of possessing the beauteous Perdita on terms which would not render him ashamed of his connexion. “Yes—yes: I do demand that sacrifice at your hands;—and, if you yield to my wishes in this respect, I shall receive your assent as the most eloquent—the most convincing proof of the attachment you avow! And, moreover, Perdita—dearest, dearest Perdita—I shall be so rejoiced to place a coronet on that fair brow of thine,—so proud to present thee to the world as my wife! Never—never will enraptured husband have experienced a triumph so complete as that which will be mine, when I shall conduct thee—so radiant, so dazzling in thy beauty—amongst the friends whom the declaration of my rank will gather around me,—and when I shall introduce thee, adored one, as the Viscountess Marston! Yes—I shall indeed be proud of thee, my angel;—and now—will you not breathe the word that is to promise me all this triumph and all this joy?—will you not say, ‘Charles, for thy sake, I will accompany thee to the altar, and wed thee according to the rites of the Protestant Church and the exigences of the community!’”