“But this nobleman--who is he? what is his name?” demanded Hatfield, powerfully excited. “I know so little of my mother’s private affairs, that I am unable to answer the questions,” said Perdita. “To speak candidly, she refused even to mention the name or the age of this unknown suitor for my hand: and therefore I apprehend the worst. Indeed, from an observation which she inadvertently dropped, I am convinced that he is old--very old----” “And you who are so young--and so beautiful!” cried Charles Hatfield, gazing upon her with admiration--nay, with adoration and enthusiastic worship. “It were an infamy--a crime--a diabolical crime, thus to sacrifice you!” “Yet such is my mother’s intention,” murmured Perdita; “and therefore was it that she reproached me for vowing a permanent friendship with you.” “Then Mrs. Fitzhardinge will immolate you on the altar of selfishness--she will sell you for gold,--sell you, perhaps, to an old man who may be hideous, and who is certain to be loathsome to you?” exclaimed Charles, speaking with all the rapidity of wild excitement. “Yes:--and it was not until last night that I was aware of the frightful arrangement which my mother had thus made--the dreadful compact to which she had assented. It seems that this nobleman had heard of me--and the description given of my appearance pleased him; so that when he yesterday discovered the existence of some paper which at once annihilated all my mother’s previously conceived hopes of gaining the law-suit, he promised his hateful conditions.” “And Mrs. Fitzhardinge has now sought her attorney----” “For the purpose of declaring that I assent to this most unnatural union!” added Perdita, with the well-feigned emphasis of violent sorrow. “But was it possible that you could hold out to your mother even the faintest prospect of thus sacrificing all your happiness suddenly and in a moment?” demanded Charles. “When I beheld my mother weep--heard her implore and beseech--and was made aware of the ruin that threatened her unless I agreed to the proposals of this unknown suitor, I wept also--and, my tears choking me, my silence was taken for assent. Then my mother departed to visit her solicitor: and in my despair I despatched a note to you, praying you to call on me during her absence.” “My God! what counsel--what advice can I give you?” exclaimed Charles, bewildered by the tale which was told so plausibly that not a doubt of its truth existed in his mind. “I cannot see you sacrificed thus:--yet how can I save you? Oh! were I possessed of a fortune, I would bestow it upon your mother that she might leave you free and unshackled to obey only the dictates of your own will--follow your own inclinations--and bestow your hand where you could likewise grant your affections!”