Yet, as he thus determined, fancy conjured up the miserable abode of the

Greek girl. An abode, which from noble and lofty principle, she had refused

to exchange for one of greater luxury. He thought of the splendour of her

situation and appearance when he first knew her; he thought of her life at

Constantinople, attended by every circumstance of oriental magnificence; of

her present penury, her daily task of industry, her lorn state, her faded,

famine-struck cheek. Compassion swelled his breast; he would see her once

again; he would devise some plan for restoring her to society, and the

enjoyment of her rank; their separation would then follow, as a matter of

course.

Again he thought, how during this long month, he had avoided Perdita,

flying from her as from the stings of his own conscience. But he was awake

now; all this should be remedied; and future devotion erase the memory of

this only blot on the serenity of their life. He became cheerful, as he

thought of this, and soberly and resolutely marked out the line of conduct

he would adopt. He remembered that he had promised Perdita to be present

this very evening (the 19th of October, anniversary of his election as

Protector) at a festival given in his honour. Good augury should this

festival be of the happiness of future years. First, he would look in on

Evadne; he would not stay; but he owed her some account, some compensation

for his long and unannounced absence; and then to Perdita, to the forgotten

world, to the duties of society, the splendour of rank, the enjoyment of

power.

After the scene sketched in the preceding pages, Perdita had contemplated

168

The Last Man