“Just as you please, mother,” said Perdita, in the quiet way which was habitual to her when she had no inclination either on one side or the other. “There is a large stone at the angle of the road yonder: I will rest there until you return.” “Do so,” replied the old woman; and, having paused for a few moments to dwell admiringly on the fine symmetry of her daughter’s form as Perdita repaired slowly towards the point indicated, the harridan advanced to the door of the house in which her relation dwelt. She knocked and rang;--and in a few minutes a servant-maid, throwing open a window, enquired who it was that came at such an unseasonable hour. “Is your master at home?” demanded the old woman. “He is: but----” “Thank God!” ejaculated the visitor, considerably relieved by this announcement. “You must inform him that an elderly female wishes to speak to him on particular business----” “I cannot venture to disturb him,” answered the servant. “Come at eight o’clock: master and missus will be up then.” At this moment another window was opened, and a gentleman, who had evidently slipped on a dressing-gown in great haste, appeared at the casement, exclaiming, “I will see you now--at once!” And in less than a minute the old woman was admitted into the dwelling by the gentleman who had thus addressed her. Not a word was uttered,--merely hasty glances of recognition were exchanged, and those looks dubious on her part and reserved on his,--until they entered a parlour, the door of which the gentleman carefully closed, while his visitress sank exhausted upon a sofa. “I am returned at last, Clarence,” she said, in a low and hoarse voice,--for she was now evidently much moved at finding herself in the presence of her relative, and by no means so confident as she had appeared to her daughter with regard to the reception she was likely to experience. “Yes--returned, against my express desire--against the solemn promise that you sent me to remain in the colony if I procured your pardon!” exclaimed Mr. Villiers--for it was he--in a reproachful tone. “Would you have had me bury myself in that horrible place of exile?” demanded his aunt--Mrs. Torrens, or Mrs. Slingsby, or whatever she now denominated herself. “I would have had you keep your pledge so sacredly given,” replied Clarence; “and on my side I should have fulfilled my engagement by remitting you forty pounds every half-year. Why--why have you come back to England?” “Because I would sooner die than remain in a colony where I have endured so much,” responded the woman.