Still Perdita would expect him; he wrote a few incoherent words on a scrap
of paper, testifying that he was well, and bade the woman of the house take
it to the palace, and deliver it into the hands of the wife of the Lord
Protector. The woman, who did not know him, contemptuously asked, how he
thought she should gain admittance, particularly on a festal night, to that
lady's presence? Raymond gave her his ring to ensure the respect of the
menials. Thus, while Perdita was entertaining her guests, and anxiously
awaiting the arrival of her lord, his ring was brought her; and she was
told that a poor woman had a note to deliver to her from its wearer.

The vanity of the old gossip was raised by her commission, which, after
all, she did not understand, since she had no suspicion, even now that
Evadne's visitor was Lord Raymond. Perdita dreaded a fall from his horse,
or some similar accident--till the woman's answers woke other fears. From
a feeling of cunning blindly exercised, the officious, if not malignant
messenger, did not speak of Evadne's illness; but she garrulously gave an
account of Raymond's frequent visits, adding to her narration such
circumstances, as, while they convinced Perdita of its truth, exaggerated
the unkindness and perfidy of Raymond. Worst of all, his absence now from
the festival, his message wholly unaccounted for, except by the disgraceful
hints of the woman, appeared the deadliest insult. Again she looked at the
ring, it was a small ruby, almost heart-shaped, which she had herself given
him. She looked at the hand-writing, which she could not mistake, and
repeated to herself the words--"Do not, I charge you, I entreat you,
permit your guests to wonder at my absence:" the while the old crone going
on with her talk, filled her ear with a strange medley of truth and
falsehood. At length Perdita dismissed her.

The poor girl returned to the assembly, where her presence had not been
missed. She glided into a recess somewhat obscured, and leaning against an