“Then if we plight our faith to each other to-day, as solemnly and as emphatically as yester-night we vowed an eternal friendship, shall you ever repent the step you will have taken?” asked Perdita, gazing affectionately on her handsome companion, whose looks seemed to devour her. “Repent!--what, repent the step that makes you mine?” he exclaimed. “No--never, never!” “And you take me as your wife on the conditions I have named--that I am to be a wife, and no wife?” said Perdita, her musical voice sounding soft as a silver bell and tremulously clear,--ravishment in her tone, love in her eyes, and warmth in the tender pressure of the hand which the young man had grasped. “Yes--I take you as my wife on those conditions,” he returned, pressing her to his bosom. “But there are still many things to be considered, my Perdita,” he observed, after a short pause, during which they exchanged the most rapturous kisses. “In the first place, your mother----” “I shall boldly acquaint her with what I have done,” said Perdita; “and she will not seal my unhappiness by an opposition--which, after all, would be vain and useless,” added the syren. “And will not Mrs. Fitzhardinge recoil in horror from the idea that her daughter should have formed this connexion, without bearing the legal name of a wife?” demanded Charles, gazing earnestly on her beautiful countenance. “Leave me to make my mother a convert to my own principles respecting marriage,” was the reply. “And now, with regard to yourself, my Charles,--you need be under no restraint. Continue to dwell with your family--and visit me as frequently as you can. In fact, I shall of course expect you to pass as much of your time as possible with me,--but never when your relatives and friends require your presence.” “Oh! on these terms we shall indeed be supremely happy!” cried Charles. “And now you are my wife?” “Yes--and you are my husband,” blushingly answered the syren, as she drooped her head upon his breast. He wound his arms around her; and then their lips met in warm and luscious kisses. Charles grew bolder: his hand wandered to Perdita’s glowing bosom,--and Perdita no longer restrained him--no longer shrank back. Still, however, she did not choose to surrender herself immediately: a little more tantalization would only rivet his enthusiastic attachment and confirm the madness of his devouring passion;--and, accordingly--at the moment when, wild with desire, he was about to claim the privilege of a husband, she started from his arms, exclaiming, “Hush! my mother has returned--I hear her approaching!” They separated--retreating to the ends of the sofa; and Perdita arranged her disordered hair once more. No one however came: it was a false alarm,--as Perdita indeed well knew it to be.