meet her in London,
that he might lose no time in bringing her to Nightmare Abbey. After the
first joy of meeting was over, he told his daughter he had a husband
ready for her. The young lady replied very gravely she should take the
liberty of choosing for herself.

"Have I not a fortune in my own right, sir?" said Celinda.

"The more is the pity," said Mr. Toobad. "But I can find means, miss--I
can find means."

They parted for the night with the expression of opposite resolutions,
and in the morning the young lady's chamber was empty, and what was
become of her, Mr. Toobad had no clue to guess. He declared that when he
should discover the fugitive, she should find "that the devil was come
unto her, having great wrath," and continued to investigate town and
country, visiting and revisiting Nightmare Abbey at intervals to consult
Mr. Glowry.

Notwithstanding the difficulties that surrounded her, Marionetta could
not debar herself from the pleasure of tormenting her lover, whom she
kept in a continual fever, sometimes meeting him with unqualified
affection, sometimes with chilling indifference, softening him to love
by eloquent tenderness, or inflaming him to jealousy by coquetting with
the Hon. Mr. Listless. Scythrop's schemes for regenerating the world and
detecting his seven golden candlesticks went on very slowly.

On retiring to his tower one day Scythrop found it pre-occupied. A
stranger, muffled to the eyes in a cloak, rose at his entrance, and
looked at him intently for a few minutes in silence, then saying, "I see
by your physiognomy you are to be trusted," dropped the cloak, and
revealed to the astonished Scythrop a female form and countenance of
dazzling grace and beauty, with long, flowing hair of raven blackness.

"You are a philosopher," said the lady, "and a lover of liberty. You are
the author of a treatise called 'Philosophical Gas?'"

"I am," said Scythrop, delighted at this first blossom of his renown.

She then informed him that she was under the necessity of finding a
refuge from an atrocious persecution, and had determined to apply to him
(on reading his pamphlet, and recognising a kindred mind) to find her a
retreat where she could be concealed from the indefatigable search being
made for her.

Doubtless, thought Scythrop, this is one of my seven golden
candlesticks, and at once offered her the asylum of his secret
apartments, assuring her she might rely on the honour of a
transcendental