“Then you have not even retained your Christian name?” said the old woman, interrogatively.
“No; for it is so uncommon, that it could not fail to excite attention, wherever whispered,” was the reply.
“In this case, I am to become Mrs. Mortimer?” continued the mother.
“Precisely so; and as a matter of course, you will take up your abode with me.”
“You do not appear particularly unhappy at the loss of the young man whom you fell so deeply in love with?” observed the old woman, whom we must now denominate Mrs. Mortimer.
“That dream has passed—gone by—vanished!” returned Laura—for by this Christian name is Perdita to be henceforth known; and as she spoke, her voice assumed a deep and even menacing tone. “Yes—that illusion is dissipated; and, if circumstances permit, I will have vengeance where I used to think only of love.”
“To what circumstances do you allude?” demanded Mrs. Mortimer.
“Can you not understand my position—aye, and your own position also?” exclaimed Laura. “At present we are dependent, to a certain degree, upon Mr. Hatfield, and must adhere to the conditions he imposed upon me: that is to say, we must reside on the continent so long as the income allowed by him shall be indispensably necessary. But the moment that I can carve out a new career of fortune for myself, either by a brilliant marriage, or by enchaining some wealthy individual in my silken meshes,—the instant that I find myself in a condition to spurn the aid of Mr. Hatfield’s purse, and can command treasures from another quarter,—then, mother, then,” added Laura, emphatically, “will be the time for vengeance! For, think you,” she continued, drawing herself proudly up to her full height, while her nostrils dilated and her eyes flashed fire,—“think you that, if I have loved as a woman, I will not likewise be avenged as a woman? Oh! yes—yes; and welcome—most welcome will be that day when I shall see myself independent of the purse of Mr. Hatfield, and able to work out my vengeance after the manner of my own heart! To be exposed by the father and discarded by the son—to have the mask torn away from my countenance by the former, and be looked upon with loathing and abhorrence by the latter,—oh, all this is enough to drive me mad—mad! And if I retained a calm demeanour and a stern composure of countenance in the presence of those men this morning, it was only the triumph of an indomitable pride over feelings wounded in the most sensitive point!”
“Vengeance, indeed, is a pleasing consummation,” said the old woman: then, after an instant’s pause, she added, “And I also have a vengeance to gratify.”
“You, mother!” ejaculated Laura, with unfeigned surprise.