And she succeeded in disengaging herself from his arms, having maddened him as it were by the contact of her fine, voluptuous form, and the caresses she had allowed him to lavish upon her. “Perdita, you are more reserved with me than you were yesterday,” said Charles, half reproachfully. “Or rather say that yesterday I was so hurried away by the rapturous thoughts--the delightful emotions--the elysian feelings which were excited within me by the certainty of possessing your love,” murmured the young woman, “that I had no controul over myself.” “And now that you are assured of my love, you have grown comparatively cold and reserved,” said Charles, with the least degree of humour. “Should you think the better of me if I were without the least particle of maiden reserve?” she asked, in a reproachful tone. “Listen, my beloved Charles--and look not angrily on your Perdita!” “No--not for worlds!” he exclaimed, pressing her hand to his lips, and feeling in the renewed infatuation of his soul that he was prompt to do her bidding and yield to her will in all things. “Now you are kind and good--and I love you, dear Charles,” said Perdita, in a tone of captivating artlessness. “Although we shall have no bridal ceremony as performed at a church,” she resumed, “yet must our wedding-day--if I may so call it--be duly fixed and celebrated. When, therefore, you have provided for me and my mother such a home as you would wish me and my parent to possess--then shall you bear me thither, my dearest Charles, as your bride--and--and--I will be unto thee as a wife in all respects,” she added, bending her beauteous head down upon his bosom, and concealing her blushing countenance there. “Be it as you say, my sweet Perdita!” he exclaimed. “And in all things will I do your bidding--for I love and adore you. You are an angel of beauty;--your manners are irresistibly winning;--your voice has the charm of the sweetest melody;--and your looks would kindle love in the breast of an anchorite.” “Ah! flatterer,” she cried, raising her head, and tapping him gently upon the face. “Will you always think thus well of me?” “Yes--always, always!” he exclaimed--so completely infatuated was he with the syren. “And now tell me, my charmer--in which part of London should you wish me to fix upon a beautiful villa for your reception?” “The more secluded the spot--the better,” said Perdita. “I do not wish to form the acquaintance of prying and curious neighbours, nor shall I court the presence of visitors. When you are with me, I shall have no thought but for you: when you are absent, to think of you will be sufficient occupation. I have heard that in the neighbourhood of Holloway there are some delightful villas, newly built----” “Holloway! It is there--in that neighbourhood--that Markham Place, the mansion where the Prince of Montoni is staying, is situated.”