“Yes--and that counsel was the wisest I could proffer you,” said her mother, actually speaking in a savage tone, and looking as if she could have leapt, tigress-like, upon her daughter and torn her with her nails as if they were claws. “Oh! the advice was good enough under certain circumstances,” exclaimed Perdita. “It was good in so far as it related to the probability of my securing a succession of lovers, each with only a comparatively small fortune, and each individual, therefore, to be soon set aside. But now that, at the very outset, chance has thrown in my way a young noble, who must sooner or later inherit a vast fortune which no extravagance can completely dissipate,--a fortune, indeed, which will minister to all extravagances, and yet remain unimpaired,--should I not be the veriest fool that ever tossed gold into a river or hurled diamonds into an abyss, were I not to secure the brilliant advantage thus placed within my reach?” [Illustration] “Daughter,” exclaimed the old woman, with difficulty preventing a complete outburst of her fury, “I tell you that this may not be! Secure Charles Hatfield--or rather Viscount Marston--as your paramour: _I_ will undertake to raise as much money, as you can persuade him to lavish upon you;--and then--_then_, my child,” she added, adopting a tone of fawning conciliation, “you can choose a new lover and make inroads into another’s fortune.” “I am determined to pursue and follow out the plan which my own convictions indicate as the most rational--the most sensible--the most advisable!” exclaimed Perdita; “and, therefore, the present dispute is useless and absurd.” “Dispute!” repeated Mrs. Fitzhardinge, her countenance again becoming absolutely livid, and her whole form trembling with rage: “I do not choose to dispute with you, insolent girl that you are! Now listen to me, Perdita--and know once for all that I _will_ be obeyed in this, as in all things--or I will abandon you to your own resources--I will hurl you back into rags, want, and poverty----” “Not while I possess this beauty of which a queen might be proud!” said Perdita, in a quiet manner, as she glanced with self complacency at her own handsome countenance as it was reflected in a mirror opposite.