diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:14:30 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:14:30 -0700 |
| commit | f3d8bead2e506d8f47a18f6fdeb9bb91b9226334 (patch) | |
| tree | 327440a3bc46f3a4afab63b04ed962af76514e29 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171-0.txt | 4493 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 89044 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 93189 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171-h/171-h.htm | 5211 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171.txt | 4492 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 171.zip | bin | 0 -> 88751 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/chtem10.txt | 4438 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/chtem10.zip | bin | 0 -> 95248 bytes |
11 files changed, 18650 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/171-0.txt b/171-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..73d9db1 --- /dev/null +++ b/171-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4493 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Charlotte Temple + +Author: Susanna Rowson + +Release Date: March 12, 2006 [EBook #171] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +CHARLOTTE TEMPLE + +By Susanna Haswell Rowson + + + +Contents: + +CHAPTER I. A Boarding School. + +CHAPTER II. Domestic Concerns. + +CHAPTER III. Unexpected Misfortunes. + +CHAPTER IV. Change of Fortune. + +CHAPTER V. Such Things Are. + +CHAPTER VI. An Intriguing Teacher. + +CHAPTER VII. Natural Sense of Propriety Inherent in the Female Bosom. + +CHAPTER VIII. Domestic Pleasures Planned. + +CHAPTER IX. We Know Not What a Day May Bring Forth. + +CHAPTER X. When We Have Excited Curiosity, It Is But an Act of +Good Nature to Gratify it. + +CHAPTER XI. Conflict of Love and Duty. + +CHAPTER XII. Nature's last, best gift: Creature in whom excell'd, +whatever could To sight or thought be nam'd! Holy, divine! good, +amiable, and sweet! How thou art falln'!-- + +CHAPTER XIII. Cruel Disappointment. + +CHAPTER XIV. Maternal Sorrow. + +CHAPTER XV. Embarkation. + +CHAPTER XVI. Necessary Digression. + +CHAPTER XVII. A Wedding. + + +VOLUME II. + +CHAPTER XVIII. Reflections. + +CHAPTER XIX. A Mistake Discovered. + +CHAPTER XX. Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth her +hand to raise a fallen sister. Chapter of Accidents. + +CHAPTER XXI. Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see, +That mercy I to others show That mercy show to me. POPE. + +CHAPTER XXII. Sorrows of the Heart. + +CHAPTER XXIII. A Man May Smile, and Smile, and Be a Villain. + +CHAPTER XXIV. Mystery Developed. + +CHAPTER XXV. Reception of a Letter. + +CHAPTER XXVI. What Might Be Expected. + +CHAPTER XXVII. Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, Like a +fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + +CHAPTER XXVIII. A Trifling Retrospect. + +CHAPTER XXIX. We Go Forward Again. + +CHAPTER XXX. And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to +sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, But leaves the wretch to +weep. + +CHAPTER XXXI. Subject Continued. + +CHAPTER XXXII. Reasons Why and Wherefore. + +CHAPTER XXXIII. Which People Void of Feeling Need Not Read. + +CHAPTER XXXIV. Retribution. + +CHAPTER XXXV. Conclusion. + + + + + +PREFACE. + +FOR the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex, this Tale +of Truth is designed; and I could wish my fair readers to consider it as +not merely the effusion of Fancy, but as a reality. The circumstances +on which I have founded this novel were related to me some little time +since by an old lady who had personally known Charlotte, though she +concealed the real names of the characters, and likewise the place where +the unfortunate scenes were acted: yet as it was impossible to offer a +relation to the public in such an imperfect state, I have thrown over +the whole a slight veil of fiction, and substituted names and places +according to my own fancy. The principal characters in this little tale +are now consigned to the silent tomb: it can therefore hurt the feelings +of no one; and may, I flatter myself, be of service to some who are so +unfortunate as to have neither friends to advise, or understanding to +direct them, through the various and unexpected evils that attend a +young and unprotected woman in her first entrance into life. + +While the tear of compassion still trembled in my eye for the fate of +the unhappy Charlotte, I may have children of my own, said I, to +whom this recital may be of use, and if to your own children, said +Benevolence, why not to the many daughters of Misfortune who, deprived +of natural friends, or spoilt by a mistaken education, are thrown on an +unfeeling world without the least power to defend themselves from the +snares not only of the other sex, but from the more dangerous arts of +the profligate of their own. + +Sensible as I am that a novel writer, at a time when such a variety +of works are ushered into the world under that name, stands but a poor +chance for fame in the annals of literature, but conscious that I wrote +with a mind anxious for the happiness of that sex whose morals and +conduct have so powerful an influence on mankind in general; and +convinced that I have not wrote a line that conveys a wrong idea to +the head or a corrupt wish to the heart, I shall rest satisfied in the +purity of my own intentions, and if I merit not applause, I feel that I +dread not censure. + +If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from the errors +which ruined poor Charlotte, or rescue from impending misery the heart +of one anxious parent, I shall feel a much higher gratification in +reflecting on this trifling performance, than could possibly result +from the applause which might attend the most elegant finished piece +of literature whose tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the +understanding. + + + + +CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, + + + + +VOLUME I + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A BOARDING SCHOOL. + +“ARE you for a walk,” said Montraville to his companion, as they arose +from table; “are you for a walk? or shall we order the chaise and +proceed to Portsmouth?” Belcour preferred the former; and they sauntered +out to view the town, and to make remarks on the inhabitants, as they +returned from church. + +Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his brother +officer: they had been to take leave of their friends previous to their +departure for America, and were now returning to Portsmouth, where the +troops waited orders for embarkation. They had stopped at Chichester +to dine; and knowing they had sufficient time to reach the place of +destination before dark, and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it +being Sunday afternoon, to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as +they returned from their devotions. + +They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return to the +inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, when +Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from the church. +Such an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally attracted the young +soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little cavalcade passed, almost +involuntarily pulled off their hats. A tall, elegant girl looked at +Montraville and blushed: he instantly recollected the features of +Charlotte Temple, whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at +Portsmouth. At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child, +she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made in +her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her cheeks as +she passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas. Vanity led him +to think that pleasure at again beholding him might have occasioned the +emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity led him to wish to see her +again. + +“She is the sweetest girl in the world,” said he, as he entered the inn. +Belcour stared. “Did you not notice her?” continued Montraville: “she +had on a blue bonnet, and with a pair of lovely eyes of the same colour, +has contrived to make me feel devilish odd about the heart.” + +“Pho,” said Belcour, “a musket ball from our friends, the Americans, may +in less than two months make you feel worse.” + +“I never think of the future,” replied Montraville; “but am determined +to make the most of the present, and would willingly compound with any +kind Familiar who would inform me who the girl is, and how I might be +likely to obtain an interview.” + +But no kind Familiar at that time appearing, and the chaise which they +had ordered, driving up to the door, Montraville and his companion were +obliged to take leave of Chichester and its fair inhabitant, and proceed +on their journey. + +But Charlotte had made too great an impression on his mind to be easily +eradicated: having therefore spent three whole days in thinking on her +and in endeavouring to form some plan for seeing her, he determined +to set off for Chichester, and trust to chance either to favour or +frustrate his designs. Arriving at the verge of the town, he dismounted, +and sending the servant forward with the horses, proceeded toward the +place, where, in the midst of an extensive pleasure ground, stood the +mansion which contained the lovely Charlotte Temple. Montraville leaned +on a broken gate, and looked earnestly at the house. The wall which +surrounded it was high, and perhaps the Argus's who guarded the +Hesperian fruit within, were more watchful than those famed of old. + +“'Tis a romantic attempt,” said he; “and should I even succeed in seeing +and conversing with her, it can be productive of no good: I must of +necessity leave England in a few days, and probably may never return; +why then should I endeavour to engage the affections of this lovely +girl, only to leave her a prey to a thousand inquietudes, of which at +present she has no idea? I will return to Portsmouth and think no more +about her.” + +The evening now was closed; a serene stillness reigned; and the +chaste Queen of Night with her silver crescent faintly illuminated the +hemisphere. The mind of Montraville was hushed into composure by the +serenity of the surrounding objects. “I will think on her no more,” said +he, and turned with an intention to leave the place; but as he turned, +he saw the gate which led to the pleasure grounds open, and two women +come out, who walked arm-in-arm across the field. + +“I will at least see who these are,” said he. He overtook them, and +giving them the compliments of the evening, begged leave to see them +into the more frequented parts of the town: but how was he delighted, +when, waiting for an answer, he discovered, under the concealment of a +large bonnet, the face of Charlotte Temple. + +He soon found means to ingratiate himself with her companion, who was a +French teacher at the school, and, at parting, slipped a letter he had +purposely written, into Charlotte's hand, and five guineas into that of +Mademoiselle, who promised she would endeavour to bring her young charge +into the field again the next evening. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +DOMESTIC CONCERNS. + +MR. Temple was the youngest son of a nobleman whose fortune was by no +means adequate to the antiquity, grandeur, and I may add, pride of the +family. He saw his elder brother made completely wretched by marrying a +disagreeable woman, whose fortune helped to prop the sinking dignity +of the house; and he beheld his sisters legally prostituted to old, +decrepid men, whose titles gave them consequence in the eyes of the +world, and whose affluence rendered them splendidly miserable. “I will +not sacrifice internal happiness for outward shew,” said he: “I will +seek Content; and, if I find her in a cottage, will embrace her with as +much cordiality as I should if seated on a throne.” + +Mr. Temple possessed a small estate of about five hundred pounds a year; +and with that he resolved to preserve independence, to marry where the +feelings of his heart should direct him, and to confine his expenses +within the limits of his income. He had a heart open to every generous +feeling of humanity, and a hand ready to dispense to those who wanted +part of the blessings he enjoyed himself. + +As he was universally known to be the friend of the unfortunate, his +advice and bounty was frequently solicited; nor was it seldom that he +sought out indigent merit, and raised it from obscurity, confining his +own expenses within a very narrow compass. + +“You are a benevolent fellow,” said a young officer to him one day; “and +I have a great mind to give you a fine subject to exercise the goodness +of your heart upon.” + +“You cannot oblige me more,” said Temple, “than to point out any way by +which I can be serviceable to my fellow creatures.” + +“Come along then,” said the young man, “we will go and visit a man who +is not in so good a lodging as he deserves; and, were it not that he +has an angel with him, who comforts and supports him, he must long since +have sunk under his misfortunes.” The young man's heart was too full +to proceed; and Temple, unwilling to irritate his feelings by making +further enquiries, followed him in silence, til they arrived at the +Fleet prison. + +The officer enquired for Captain Eldridge: a person led them up several +pair of dirty stairs, and pointing to a door which led to a miserable, +small apartment, said that was the Captain's room, and retired. + +The officer, whose name was Blakeney, tapped at the door, and was bid to +enter by a voice melodiously soft. He opened the door, and discovered to +Temple a scene which rivetted him to the spot with astonishment. + +The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, was +neat in the extreme. In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon his hand, +his eyes fixed on a book which lay open before him, sat an aged man in +a Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, would sooner call a +blush of shame into the face of those who could neglect real merit, than +cause the hectic of confusion to glow on the cheeks of him who wore it. + +Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount. She was +fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her cheek before it +was half blown. Her eyes were blue; and her hair, which was light brown, +was slightly confined under a plain muslin cap, tied round with a black +ribbon; a white linen gown and plain lawn handkerchief composed +the remainder of her dress; and in this simple attire, she was more +irresistibly charming to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have +been, if adorned with all the splendor of a courtly belle. + +When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking Blakeney +by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; and there +being but three in the room, seated himself on the side of his little +bed with evident composure. + +“This is a strange place,” said he to Temple, “to receive visitors of +distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station. While I am +not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush +at my situation? Our misfortunes are not our faults; and were it not for +that poor girl--” + +Here the philosopher was lost in the father. He rose hastily from his +seat, and walking toward the window, wiped off a tear which he was +afraid would tarnish the cheek of a sailor. + +Temple cast his eye on Miss Eldridge: a pellucid drop had stolen from +her eyes, and fallen upon a rose she was painting. It blotted and +discoloured the flower. “'Tis emblematic,” said he mentally: “the rose +of youth and health soon fades when watered by the tear of affliction.” + +“My friend Blakeney,” said he, addressing the old man, “told me I could +be of service to you: be so kind then, dear Sir, as to point out some +way in which I can relieve the anxiety of your heart and increase the +pleasures of my own.” + +“My good young man,” said Eldridge, “you know not what you offer. While +deprived of my liberty I cannot be free from anxiety on my own account; +but that is a trifling concern; my anxious thoughts extend to one more +dear a thousand times than life: I am a poor weak old man, and must +expect in a few years to sink into silence and oblivion; but when I am +gone, who will protect that fair bud of innocence from the blasts of +adversity, or from the cruel hand of insult and dishonour.” + +“Oh, my father!” cried Miss Eldridge, tenderly taking his hand, “be not +anxious on that account; for daily are my prayers offered to heaven that +our lives may terminate at the same instant, and one grave receive us +both; for why should I live when deprived of my only friend.” + +Temple was moved even to tears. “You will both live many years,” said +he, “and I hope see much happiness. Cheerly, my friend, cheerly; these +passing clouds of adversity will serve only to make the sunshine of +prosperity more pleasing. But we are losing time: you might ere this +have told me who were your creditors, what were their demands, and other +particulars necessary to your liberation.” + +“My story is short,” said Mr. Eldridge, “but there are some particulars +which will wring my heart barely to remember; yet to one whose offers +of friendship appear so open and disinterested, I will relate every +circumstance that led to my present, painful situation. But my child,” + continued he, addressing his daughter, “let me prevail on you to take +this opportunity, while my friends are with me, to enjoy the benefit of +air and exercise.” + +“Go, my love; leave me now; to-morrow at your usual hour I will expect +you.” + +Miss Eldridge impressed on his cheek the kiss of filial affection, and +obeyed. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +UNEXPECTED MISFORTUNES. + +“MY life,” said Mr. Eldridge, “till within these few years was marked by +no particular circumstance deserving notice. I early embraced the life +of a sailor, and have served my King with unremitted ardour for many +years. At the age of twenty-five I married an amiable woman; one son, +and the girl who just now left us, were the fruits of our union. My +boy had genius and spirit. I straitened my little income to give him a +liberal education, but the rapid progress he made in his studies amply +compensated for the inconvenience. At the academy where he received his +education he commenced an acquaintance with a Mr. Lewis, a young man +of affluent fortune: as they grew up their intimacy ripened into +friendship, and they became almost inseparable companions. + +“George chose the profession of a soldier. I had neither friends or +money to procure him a commission, and had wished him to embrace a +nautical life: but this was repugnant to his wishes, and I ceased to +urge him on the subject. + +“The friendship subsisting between Lewis and my son was of such a nature +as gave him free access to our family; and so specious was his manner +that we hesitated not to state to him all our little difficulties in +regard to George's future views. He listened to us with attention, and +offered to advance any sum necessary for his first setting out. + +“I embraced the offer, and gave him my note for the payment of it, but +he would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time, as he said I +might do it whenever most convenient to myself. About this time my dear +Lucy returned from school, and I soon began to imagine Lewis looked at +her with eyes of affection. I gave my child a caution to beware of him, +and to look on her mother as her friend. She was unaffectedly artless; +and when, as I suspected, Lewis made professions of love, she confided +in her parents, and assured us her heart was perfectly unbiassed in his +favour, and she would cheerfully submit to our direction. + +“I took an early opportunity of questioning him concerning his +intentions towards my child: he gave an equivocal answer, and I forbade +him the house. + +“The next day he sent and demanded payment of his money. It was not in +my power to comply with the demand. I requested three days to endeavour +to raise it, determining in that time to mortgage my half pay, and live +on a small annuity which my wife possessed, rather than be under an +obligation to so worthless a man: but this short time was not allowed +me; for that evening, as I was sitting down to supper, unsuspicious of +danger, an officer entered, and tore me from the embraces of my family. + +“My wife had been for some time in a declining state of health: ruin at +once so unexpected and inevitable was a stroke she was not prepared to +bear, and I saw her faint into the arms of our servant, as I left my +own habitation for the comfortless walls of a prison. My poor Lucy, +distracted with her fears for us both, sunk on the floor and endeavoured +to detain me by her feeble efforts, but in vain; they forced open her +arms; she shrieked, and fell prostrate. But pardon me. The horrors of +that night unman me. I cannot proceed.” + +He rose from his seat, and walked several times across the room: at +length, attaining more composure, he cried--“What a mere infant I am! +Why, Sir, I never felt thus in the day of battle.” “No,” said Temple; +“but the truly brave soul is tremblingly alive to the feelings of +humanity.” + +“True,” replied the old man, (something like satisfaction darting across +his features) “and painful as these feelings are, I would not exchange +them for that torpor which the stoic mistakes for philosophy. How many +exquisite delights should I have passed by unnoticed, but for these keen +sensations, this quick sense of happiness or misery? Then let us, my +friend, take the cup of life as it is presented to us, tempered by the +hand of a wise Providence; be thankful for the good, be patient under +the evil, and presume not to enquire why the latter predominates.” + +“This is true philosophy,” said Temple. + +“'Tis the only way to reconcile ourselves to the cross events of life,” + replied he. “But I forget myself. I will not longer intrude on your +patience, but proceed in my melancholy tale. + +“The very evening that I was taken to prison, my son arrived from +Ireland, where he had been some time with his regiment. From the +distracted expressions of his mother and sister, he learnt by whom I +had been arrested; and, late as it was, flew on the wings of wounded +affection, to the house of his false friend, and earnestly enquired the +cause of this cruel conduct. With all the calmness of a cool deliberate +villain, he avowed his passion for Lucy; declared her situation in +life would not permit him to marry her; but offered to release me +immediately, and make any settlement on her, if George would persuade +her to live, as he impiously termed it, a life of honour. + +“Fired at the insult offered to a man and a soldier, my boy struck the +villain, and a challenge ensued. He then went to a coffee-house in +the neighbourhood and wrote a long affectionate letter to me, blaming +himself severely for having introduced Lewis into the family, or +permitted him to confer an obligation, which had brought inevitable +ruin on us all. He begged me, whatever might be the event of the ensuing +morning, not to suffer regret or unavailing sorrow for his fate, to +increase the anguish of my heart, which he greatly feared was already +insupportable. + +“This letter was delivered to me early in the morning. It would be vain +to attempt describing my feelings on the perusal of it; suffice it to +say, that a merciful Providence interposed, and I was for three weeks +insensible to miseries almost beyond the strength of human nature to +support. + +“A fever and strong delirium seized me, and my life was despaired of. At +length, nature, overpowered with fatigue, gave way to the salutary power +of rest, and a quiet slumber of some hours restored me to reason, though +the extreme weakness of my frame prevented my feeling my distress so +acutely as I otherways should. + +“The first object that struck me on awaking, was Lucy sitting by my +bedside; her pale countenance and sable dress prevented my enquiries for +poor George: for the letter I had received from him, was the first thing +that occurred to my memory. By degrees the rest returned: I recollected +being arrested, but could no ways account for being in this apartment, +whither they had conveyed me during my illness. + +“I was so weak as to be almost unable to speak. I pressed Lucy's hand, +and looked earnestly round the apartment in search of another dear +object. + +“Where is your mother?” said I, faintly. + +“The poor girl could not answer: she shook her head in expressive +silence; and throwing herself on the bed, folded her arms about me, and +burst into tears. + +“What! both gone?” said I. + +“Both,” she replied, endeavouring to restrain her emotions: “but they +are happy, no doubt.” + +Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection of the scene was too painful +to permit him to proceed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +CHANGE OF FORTUNE. + +“IT was some days,” continued Mr. Eldridge, recovering himself, “before +I could venture to enquire the particulars of what had happened during +my illness: at length I assumed courage to ask my dear girl how long her +mother and brother had been dead: she told me, that the morning after +my arrest, George came home early to enquire after his mother's health, +staid with them but a few minutes, seemed greatly agitated at parting, +but gave them strict charge to keep up their spirits, and hope every +thing would turn out for the best. In about two hours after, as they +were sitting at breakfast, and endeavouring to strike out some plan to +attain my liberty, they heard a loud rap at the door, which Lucy running +to open, she met the bleeding body of her brother, borne in by two men +who had lifted him from a litter, on which they had brought him from +the place where he fought. Her poor mother, weakened by illness and the +struggles of the preceding night, was not able to support this shock; +gasping for breath, her looks wild and haggard, she reached the +apartment where they had carried her dying son. She knelt by the bed +side; and taking his cold hand, 'my poor boy,' said she, 'I will not be +parted from thee: husband! son! both at once lost. Father of mercies, +spare me!' She fell into a strong convulsion, and expired in about two +hours. In the mean time, a surgeon had dressed George's wounds; but they +were in such a situation as to bar the smallest hopes of recovery. He +never was sensible from the time he was brought home, and died that +evening in the arms of his sister. + +“Late as it was when this event took place, my affectionate Lucy +insisted on coming to me. 'What must he feel,' said she, 'at our +apparent neglect, and how shall I inform him of the afflictions with +which it has pleased heaven to visit us?' + +“She left the care of the dear departed ones to some neighbours who +had kindly come in to comfort and assist her; and on entering the house +where I was confined, found me in the situation I have mentioned. + +“How she supported herself in these trying moments, I know not: heaven, +no doubt, was with her; and her anxiety to preserve the life of one +parent in some measure abated her affliction for the loss of the other. + +“My circumstances were greatly embarrassed, my acquaintance few, +and those few utterly unable to assist me. When my wife and son were +committed to their kindred earth, my creditors seized my house and +furniture, which not being sufficient to discharge all their demands, +detainers were lodged against me. No friend stepped forward to my +relief; from the grave of her mother, my beloved Lucy followed an almost +dying father to this melancholy place. + +“Here we have been nearly a year and a half. My half-pay I have given +up to satisfy my creditors, and my child supports me by her industry: +sometimes by fine needlework, sometimes by painting. She leaves me +every night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge; but returns in +the morning, to cheer me with her smiles, and bless me by her duteous +affection. A lady once offered her an asylum in her family; but she +would not leave me. 'We are all the world to each other,' said she. 'I +thank God, I have health and spirits to improve the talents with which +nature has endowed me; and I trust if I employ them in the support of a +beloved parent, I shall not be thought an unprofitable servant. While he +lives, I pray for strength to pursue my employment; and when it pleases +heaven to take one of us, may it give the survivor resignation to bear +the separation as we ought: till then I will never leave him.'” + +“But where is this inhuman persecutor?” said Temple. + +“He has been abroad ever since,” replied the old man; “but he has +left orders with his lawyer never to give up the note till the utmost +farthing is paid.” + +“And how much is the amount of your debts in all?” said Temple. + +“Five hundred pounds,” he replied. + +Temple started: it was more than he expected. “But something must be +done,” said he: “that sweet maid must not wear out her life in a prison. +I will see you again to-morrow, my friend,” said he, shaking Eldridge's +hand: “keep up your spirits: light and shade are not more happily +blended than are the pleasures and pains of life; and the horrors of the +one serve only to increase the splendor of the other.” + +“You never lost a wife and son,” said Eldridge. + +“No,” replied he, “but I can feel for those that have.” Eldridge pressed +his hand as they went toward the door, and they parted in silence. + +When they got without the walls of the prison, Temple thanked his friend +Blakeney for introducing him to so worthy a character; and telling him +he had a particular engagement in the city, wished him a good evening. + +“And what is to be done for this distressed man,” said Temple, as he +walked up Ludgate Hill. “Would to heaven I had a fortune that would +enable me instantly to discharge his debt: what exquisite transport, to +see the expressive eyes of Lucy beaming at once with pleasure for her +father's deliverance, and gratitude for her deliverer: but is not my +fortune affluence,” continued he, “nay superfluous wealth, when compared +to the extreme indigence of Eldridge; and what have I done to deserve +ease and plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? Three +hundred a year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes: at any +rate Eldridge must be relieved.” + +When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute a good +action. + +Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; unacquainted +with the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being +convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy. He pitied their sufferings, +overlooked their faults, thought every bosom as generous as his own, and +would cheerfully have divided his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow +creature. + +No wonder, then, that such a man (without waiting a moment for the +interference of Madam Prudence) should resolve to raise money sufficient +for the relief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part of his fortune. + +We will not enquire too minutely into the cause which might actuate +him in this instance: suffice it to say, he immediately put the plan in +execution; and in three days from the time he first saw the unfortunate +Lieutenant, he had the superlative felicity of seeing him at liberty, +and receiving an ample reward in the tearful eye and half articulated +thanks of the grateful Lucy. + +“And pray, young man,” said his father to him one morning, “what are +your designs in visiting thus constantly that old man and his daughter?” + +Temple was at a loss for a reply: he had never asked himself the +question: he hesitated; and his father continued-- + +“It was not till within these few days that I heard in what manner +your acquaintance first commenced, and cannot suppose any thing but +attachment to the daughter could carry you such imprudent lengths for +the father: it certainly must be her art that drew you in to mortgage +part of your fortune.” + +“Art, Sir!” cried Temple eagerly. “Lucy Eldridge is as free from art as +she is from every other error: she is--” + +“Everything that is amiable and lovely,” said his father, interrupting +him ironically: “no doubt in your opinion she is a pattern of excellence +for all her sex to follow; but come, Sir, pray tell me what are your +designs towards this paragon. I hope you do not intend to complete your +folly by marrying her.” + +“Were my fortune such as would support her according to her merit, +I don't know a woman more formed to insure happiness in the married +state.” + +“Then prithee, my dear lad,” said his father, “since your rank and +fortune are so much beneath what your PRINCESS might expect, be so kind +as to turn your eyes on Miss Weatherby; who, having only an estate of +three thousand a year, is more upon a level with you, and whose father +yesterday solicited the mighty honour of your alliance. I shall leave +you to consider on this offer; and pray remember, that your union with +Miss Weatherby will put it in your power to be more liberally the friend +of Lucy Eldridge.” + +The old gentleman walked in a stately manner out of the room; and Temple +stood almost petrified with astonishment, contempt, and rage. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SUCH THINGS ARE. + +MISS Weatherby was the only child of a wealthy man, almost idolized by +her parents, flattered by her dependants, and never contradicted even +by those who called themselves her friends: I cannot give a better +description than by the following lines. + + The lovely maid whose form and face + Nature has deck'd with ev'ry grace, + But in whose breast no virtues glow, + Whose heart ne'er felt another's woe, + Whose hand ne'er smooth'd the bed of pain, + Or eas'd the captive's galling chain; + But like the tulip caught the eye, + Born just to be admir'd and die; + When gone, no one regrets its loss, + Or scarce remembers that it was. + +Such was Miss Weatherby: her form lovely as nature could make it, but +her mind uncultivated, her heart unfeeling, her passions impetuous, and +her brain almost turned with flattery, dissipation, and pleasure; and +such was the girl, whom a partial grandfather left independent mistress +of the fortune before mentioned. + +She had seen Temple frequently; and fancying she could never be happy +without him, nor once imagining he could refuse a girl of her beauty and +fortune, she prevailed on her fond father to offer the alliance to the +old Earl of D----, Mr. Temple's father. + +The Earl had received the offer courteously: he thought it a great match +for Henry; and was too fashionable a man to suppose a wife could be any +impediment to the friendship he professed for Eldridge and his daughter. + +Unfortunately for Temple, he thought quite otherwise: the conversation +he had just had with his father, discovered to him the situation of +his heart; and he found that the most affluent fortune would bring no +increase of happiness unless Lucy Eldridge shared it with him; and the +knowledge of the purity of her sentiments, and the integrity of his own +heart, made him shudder at the idea his father had started, of marrying +a woman for no other reason than because the affluence of her fortune +would enable him to injure her by maintaining in splendor the woman +to whom his heart was devoted: he therefore resolved to refuse Miss +Weatherby, and be the event what it might, offer his heart and hand to +Lucy Eldridge. + +Full of this determination, he fought his father, declared his +resolution, and was commanded never more to appear in his presence. +Temple bowed; his heart was too full to permit him to speak; he left the +house precipitately, and hastened to relate the cause of his sorrows to +his good old friend and his amiable daughter. + +In the mean time, the Earl, vexed to the soul that such a fortune should +be lost, determined to offer himself a candidate for Miss Weatherby's +favour. + +What wonderful changes are wrought by that reigning power, ambition! the +love-sick girl, when first she heard of Temple's refusal, wept, raved, +tore her hair, and vowed to found a protestant nunnery with her fortune; +and by commencing abbess, shut herself up from the sight of cruel +ungrateful man for ever. + +Her father was a man of the world: he suffered this first transport to +subside, and then very deliberately unfolded to her the offers of the +old Earl, expatiated on the many benefits arising from an elevated +title, painted in glowing colours the surprise and vexation of Temple +when he should see her figuring as a Countess and his mother-in-law, and +begged her to consider well before she made any rash vows. + +The DISTRESSED fair one dried her tears, listened patiently, and at +length declared she believed the surest method to revenge the slight put +on her by the son, would be to accept the father: so said so done, and +in a few days she became the Countess D----. + +Temple heard the news with emotion: he had lost his father's favour +by avowing his passion for Lucy, and he saw now there was no hope of +regaining it: “but he shall not make me miserable,” said he. “Lucy and I +have no ambitious notions: we can live on three hundred a year for +some little time, till the mortgage is paid off, and then we shall have +sufficient not only for the comforts but many of the little elegancies +of life. We will purchase a little cottage, my Lucy,” said he, “and +thither with your reverend father we will retire; we will forget there +are such things as splendor, profusion, and dissipation: we will have +some cows, and you shall be queen of the dairy; in a morning, while I +look after my garden, you shall take a basket on your arm, and sally +forth to feed your poultry; and as they flutter round you in token of +humble gratitude, your father shall smoke his pipe in a woodbine alcove, +and viewing the serenity of your countenance, feel such real pleasure +dilate his own heart, as shall make him forget he had ever been +unhappy.” + +Lucy smiled; and Temple saw it was a smile of approbation. He sought +and found a cottage suited to his taste; thither, attended by Love and +Hymen, the happy trio retired; where, during many years of uninterrupted +felicity, they cast not a wish beyond the little boundaries of their own +tenement. Plenty, and her handmaid, Prudence, presided at their board, +Hospitality stood at their gate, Peace smiled on each face, Content +reigned in each heart, and Love and Health strewed roses on their +pillows. + +Such were the parents of Charlotte Temple, who was the only pledge of +their mutual love, and who, at the earnest entreaty of a particular +friend, was permitted to finish the education her mother had begun, +at Madame Du Pont's school, where we first introduced her to the +acquaintance of the reader. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AN INTRIGUING TEACHER. + +MADAME Du Pont was a woman every way calculated to take the care of +young ladies, had that care entirely devolved on herself; but it was +impossible to attend the education of a numerous school without proper +assistants; and those assistants were not always the kind of people +whose conversation and morals were exactly such as parents of delicacy +and refinement would wish a daughter to copy. Among the teachers +at Madame Du Pont's school, was Mademoiselle La Rue, who added to a +pleasing person and insinuating address, a liberal education and the +manners of a gentlewoman. She was recommended to the school by a lady +whose humanity overstepped the bounds of discretion: for though she +knew Miss La Rue had eloped from a convent with a young officer, and, on +coming to England, had lived with several different men in open defiance +of all moral and religious duties; yet, finding her reduced to the +most abject want, and believing the penitence which she professed to be +sincere, she took her into her own family, and from thence recommended +her to Madame Du Pont, as thinking the situation more suitable for +a woman of her abilities. But Mademoiselle possessed too much of the +spirit of intrigue to remain long without adventures. At church, where +she constantly appeared, her person attracted the attention of a young +man who was upon a visit at a gentleman's seat in the neighbourhood: she +had met him several times clandestinely; and being invited to come out +that evening, and eat some fruit and pastry in a summer-house belonging +to the gentleman he was visiting, and requested to bring some of +the ladies with her, Charlotte being her favourite, was fixed on to +accompany her. + +The mind of youth eagerly catches at promised pleasure: pure and +innocent by nature, it thinks not of the dangers lurking beneath +those pleasures, till too late to avoid them: when Mademoiselle asked +Charlotte to go with her, she mentioned the gentleman as a relation, +and spoke in such high terms of the elegance of his gardens, the +sprightliness of his conversation, and the liberality with which he ever +entertained his guests, that Charlotte thought only of the pleasure she +should enjoy in the visit,--not on the imprudence of going without her +governess's knowledge, or of the danger to which she exposed herself in +visiting the house of a gay young man of fashion. + +Madame Du Pont was gone out for the evening, and the rest of the ladies +retired to rest, when Charlotte and the teacher stole out at the back +gate, and in crossing the field, were accosted by Montraville, as +mentioned in the first CHAPTER. + +Charlotte was disappointed in the pleasure she had promised herself +from this visit. The levity of the gentlemen and the freedom of +their conversation disgusted her. She was astonished at the liberties +Mademoiselle permitted them to take; grew thoughtful and uneasy, and +heartily wished herself at home again in her own chamber. + +Perhaps one cause of that wish might be, an earnest desire to see the +contents of the letter which had been put into her hand by Montraville. + +Any reader who has the least knowledge of the world, will easily +imagine the letter was made up of encomiums on her beauty, and vows of +everlasting love and constancy; nor will he be surprised that a heart +open to every gentle, generous sentiment, should feel itself warmed by +gratitude for a man who professed to feel so much for her; nor is it +improbable but her mind might revert to the agreeable person and martial +appearance of Montraville. + +In affairs of love, a young heart is never in more danger than +when attempted by a handsome young soldier. A man of an indifferent +appearance, will, when arrayed in a military habit, shew to advantage; +but when beauty of person, elegance of manner, and an easy method of +paying compliments, are united to the scarlet coat, smart cockade, and +military sash, ah! well-a-day for the poor girl who gazes on him: she +is in imminent danger; but if she listens to him with pleasure, 'tis all +over with her, and from that moment she has neither eyes nor ears for +any other object. + +Now, my dear sober matron, (if a sober matron should deign to turn over +these pages, before she trusts them to the eye of a darling daughter,) +let me intreat you not to put on a grave face, and throw down the book +in a passion and declare 'tis enough to turn the heads of half the girls +in England; I do solemnly protest, my dear madam, I mean no more by +what I have here advanced, than to ridicule those romantic girls, who +foolishly imagine a red coat and silver epaulet constitute the fine +gentleman; and should that fine gentleman make half a dozen fine +speeches to them, they will imagine themselves so much in love as +to fancy it a meritorious action to jump out of a two pair of stairs +window, abandon their friends, and trust entirely to the honour of a +man, who perhaps hardly knows the meaning of the word, and if he does, +will be too much the modern man of refinement, to practice it in their +favour. + +Gracious heaven! when I think on the miseries that must rend the heart +of a doating parent, when he sees the darling of his age at first +seduced from his protection, and afterwards abandoned, by the very +wretch whose promises of love decoyed her from the paternal roof--when +he sees her poor and wretched, her bosom tom between remorse for her +crime and love for her vile betrayer--when fancy paints to me the good +old man stooping to raise the weeping penitent, while every tear from +her eye is numbered by drops from his bleeding heart, my bosom glows +with honest indignation, and I wish for power to extirpate those +monsters of seduction from the earth. + +Oh my dear girls--for to such only am I writing--listen not to the voice +of love, unless sanctioned by paternal approbation: be assured, it is +now past the days of romance: no woman can be run away with contrary +to her own inclination: then kneel down each morning, and request kind +heaven to keep you free from temptation, or, should it please to suffer +you to be tried, pray for fortitude to resist the impulse of inclination +when it runs counter to the precepts of religion and virtue. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +NATURAL SENSE OF PROPRIETY INHERENT IN THE FEMALE BOSOM. + +“I CANNOT think we have done exactly right in going out this evening, +Mademoiselle,” said Charlotte, seating herself when she entered her +apartment: “nay, I am sure it was not right; for I expected to be very +happy, but was sadly disappointed.” + +“It was your own fault, then,” replied Mademoiselle: “for I am sure +my cousin omitted nothing that could serve to render the evening +agreeable.” + +“True,” said Charlotte: “but I thought the gentlemen were very free in +their manner: I wonder you would suffer them to behave as they did.” + +“Prithee, don't be such a foolish little prude,” said the artful woman, +affecting anger: “I invited you to go in hopes it would divert you, and +be an agreeable change of scene; however, if your delicacy was hurt by +the behaviour of the gentlemen, you need not go again; so there let it +rest.” + +“I do not intend to go again,” said Charlotte, gravely taking off her +bonnet, and beginning to prepare for bed: “I am sure, if Madame Du Pont +knew we had been out to-night, she would be very angry; and it is ten to +one but she hears of it by some means or other.” + +“Nay, Miss,” said La Rue, “perhaps your mighty sense of propriety may +lead you to tell her yourself: and in order to avoid the censure you +would incur, should she hear of it by accident, throw the blame on +me: but I confess I deserve it: it will be a very kind return for that +partiality which led me to prefer you before any of the rest of the +ladies; but perhaps it will give you pleasure,” continued she, letting +fall some hypocritical tears, “to see me deprived of bread, and for an +action which by the most rigid could only be esteemed an inadvertency, +lose my place and character, and be driven again into the world, where I +have already suffered all the evils attendant on poverty.” + +This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnerable part: she rose from +her seat, and taking Mademoiselle's hand--“You know, my dear La Rue,” + said she, “I love you too well, to do anything that would injure you in +my governess's opinion: I am only sorry we went out this evening.” + +“I don't believe it, Charlotte,” said she, assuming a little vivacity; +“for if you had not gone out, you would not have seen the gentleman who +met us crossing the field; and I rather think you were pleased with his +conversation.” + +“I had seen him once before,” replied Charlotte, “and thought him an +agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see a person with +whom one has passed several cheerful hours. But,” said she pausing, +and drawing the letter from her pocket, while a gentle suffusion of +vermillion tinged her neck and face, “he gave me this letter; what shall +I do with it?” + +“Read it, to be sure,” returned Mademoiselle. + +“I am afraid I ought not,” said Charlotte: “my mother has often told +me, I should never read a letter given me by a young man, without first +giving it to her.” + +“Lord bless you, my dear girl,” cried the teacher smiling, “have you +a mind to be in leading strings all your life time. Prithee open the +letter, read it, and judge for yourself; if you show it your mother, the +consequence will be, you will be taken from school, and a strict guard +kept over you; so you will stand no chance of ever seeing the smart +young officer again.” + +“I should not like to leave school yet,” replied Charlotte, “till I have +attained a greater proficiency in my Italian and music. But you can, if +you please, Mademoiselle, take the letter back to Montraville, and +tell him I wish him well, but cannot, with any propriety, enter into a +clandestine correspondence with him.” She laid the letter on the table, +and began to undress herself. + +“Well,” said La Rue, “I vow you are an unaccountable girl: have you +no curiosity to see the inside now? for my part I could no more let a +letter addressed to me lie unopened so long, than I could work miracles: +he writes a good hand,” continued she, turning the letter, to look at +the superscription. + +“'Tis well enough,” said Charlotte, drawing it towards her. + +“He is a genteel young fellow,” said La Rue carelessly, folding up her +apron at the same time; “but I think he is marked with the small pox.” + +“Oh you are greatly mistaken,” said Charlotte eagerly; “he has a +remarkable clear skin and fine complexion.” + +“His eyes, if I could judge by what I saw,” said La Rue, “are grey and +want expression.” + +“By no means,” replied Charlotte; “they are the most expressive eyes +I ever saw.” “Well, child, whether they are grey or black is of no +consequence: you have determined not to read his letter; so it is likely +you will never either see or hear from him again.” + +Charlotte took up the letter, and Mademoiselle continued-- + +“He is most probably going to America; and if ever you should hear any +account of him, it may possibly be that he is killed; and though he +loved you ever so fervently, though his last breath should be spent in +a prayer for your happiness, it can be nothing to you: you can feel +nothing for the fate of the man, whose letters you will not open, and +whose sufferings you will not alleviate, by permitting him to think you +would remember him when absent, and pray for his safety.” + +Charlotte still held the letter in her hand: her heart swelled at the +conclusion of Mademoiselle's speech, and a tear dropped upon the wafer +that closed it. + +“The wafer is not dry yet,” said she, “and sure there can be no great +harm--” She hesitated. La Rue was silent. “I may read it, Mademoiselle, +and return it afterwards.” + +“Certainly,” replied Mademoiselle. + +“At any rate I am determined not to answer it,” continued Charlotte, as +she opened the letter. + +Here let me stop to make one remark, and trust me my very heart aches +while I write it; but certain I am, that when once a woman has stifled +the sense of shame in her own bosom, when once she has lost sight of the +basis on which reputation, honour, every thing that should be dear to +the female heart, rests, she grows hardened in guilt, and will spare +no pains to bring down innocence and beauty to the shocking level with +herself: and this proceeds from that diabolical spirit of envy, which +repines at seeing another in the full possession of that respect and +esteem which she can no longer hope to enjoy. + +Mademoiselle eyed the unsuspecting Charlotte, as she perused the letter, +with a malignant pleasure. She saw, that the contents had awakened new +emotions in her youthful bosom: she encouraged her hopes, calmed her +fears, and before they parted for the night, it was determined that she +should meet Montraville the ensuing evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +DOMESTIC PLEASURES PLANNED. + +“I THINK, my dear,” said Mrs. Temple, laying her hand on her husband's +arm as they were walking together in the garden, “I think next Wednesday +is Charlotte's birth day: now I have formed a little scheme in my own +mind, to give her an agreeable surprise; and if you have no objection, +we will send for her home on that day.” Temple pressed his wife's hand +in token of approbation, and she proceeded.--“You know the little alcove +at the bottom of the garden, of which Charlotte is so fond? I have an +inclination to deck this out in a fanciful manner, and invite all her +little friends to partake of a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, and other +things suitable to the general taste of young guests; and to make it +more pleasing to Charlotte, she shall be mistress of the feast, and +entertain her visitors in this alcove. I know she will be delighted; and +to complete all, they shall have some music, and finish with a dance.” + +“A very fine plan, indeed,” said Temple, smiling; “and you really +suppose I will wink at your indulging the girl in this manner? You will +quite spoil her, Lucy; indeed you will.” + +“She is the only child we have,” said Mrs. Temple, the whole tenderness +of a mother adding animation to her fine countenance; but it was withal +tempered so sweetly with the meek affection and submissive duty of the +wife, that as she paused expecting her husband's answer, he gazed at her +tenderly, and found he was unable to refuse her request. + +“She is a good girl,” said Temple. + +“She is, indeed,” replied the fond mother exultingly, “a grateful, +affectionate girl; and I am sure will never lose sight of the duty she +owes her parents.” + +“If she does,” said he, “she must forget the example set her by the best +of mothers.” + +Mrs. Temple could not reply; but the delightful sensation that dilated +her heart sparkled in her intelligent eyes and heightened the vermillion +on her cheeks. + +Of all the pleasures of which the human mind is sensible, there is +none equal to that which warms and expands the bosom, when listening to +commendations bestowed on us by a beloved object, and are conscious of +having deserved them. + +Ye giddy flutterers in the fantastic round of dissipation, who eagerly +seek pleasure in the lofty dome, rich treat, and midnight revel--tell +me, ye thoughtless daughters of folly, have ye ever found the phantom +you have so long sought with such unremitted assiduity? Has she not +always eluded your grasp, and when you have reached your hand to take +the cup she extends to her deluded votaries, have you not found the +long-expected draught strongly tinctured with the bitter dregs of +disappointment? I know you have: I see it in the wan cheek, sunk +eye, and air of chagrin, which ever mark the children of dissipation. +Pleasure is a vain illusion; she draws you on to a thousand follies, +errors, and I may say vices, and then leaves you to deplore your +thoughtless credulity. + +Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white robe +devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, the +modesty of her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, Conjugal +Affection, Industry, and Benevolence; her name is CONTENT; she holds +in her hand the cup of true felicity, and when once you have formed an +intimate acquaintance with these her attendants, nay you must admit them +as your bosom friends and chief counsellors, then, whatever may be your +situation in life, the meek eyed Virgin wig immediately take up her +abode with you. + +Is poverty your portion?--she will lighten your labours, preside at your +frugal board, and watch your quiet slumbers. + +Is your state mediocrity?--she will heighten every blessing you enjoy, +by informing you how grateful you should be to that bountiful Providence +who might have placed you in the most abject situation; and, by teaching +you to weigh your blessings against your deserts, show you how much more +you receive than you have a right to expect. + +Are you possessed of affluence?--what an inexhaustible fund of happiness +will she lay before you! To relieve the distressed, redress the injured, +in short, to perform all the good works of peace and mercy. + +Content, my dear friends, will blunt even the arrows of adversity, so +that they cannot materially harm you. She will dwell in the humblest +cottage; she will attend you even to a prison. Her parent is Religion; +her sisters, Patience and Hope. She will pass with you through life, +smoothing the rough paths and tread to earth those thorns which every +one must meet with as they journey onward to the appointed goal. She +will soften the pains of sickness, continue with you even in the +cold gloomy hour of death, and, cheating you with the smiles of her +heaven-born sister, Hope, lead you triumphant to a blissful eternity. + +I confess I have rambled strangely from my story: but what of that? if +I have been so lucky as to find the road to happiness, why should I be +such a niggard as to omit so good an opportunity of pointing out the way +to others. The very basis of true peace of mind is a benevolent wish to +see all the world as happy as one's Self; and from my soul do I pity the +selfish churl, who, remembering the little bickerings of anger, envy, +and fifty other disagreeables to which frail mortality is subject, would +wish to revenge the affront which pride whispers him he has received. +For my own part, I can safely declare, there is not a human being in +the universe, whose prosperity I should not rejoice in, and to whose +happiness I would not contribute to the utmost limit of my power: and +may my offences be no more remembered in the day of general retribution, +than as from my soul I forgive every offence or injury received from a +fellow creature. + +Merciful heaven! who would exchange the rapture of such a reflexion for +all the gaudy tinsel which the world calls pleasure! + +But to return.--Content dwelt in Mrs. Temple's bosom, and spread a +charming animation over her countenance, as her husband led her in, to +lay the plan she had formed (for the celebration of Charlotte's birth +day,) before Mr. Eldridge. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +WE KNOW NOT WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. + +VARIOUS were the sensations which agitated the mind of Charlotte, during +the day preceding the evening in which she was to meet Montraville. +Several times did she almost resolve to go to her governess, show her +the letter, and be guided by her advice: but Charlotte had taken one +step in the ways of imprudence; and when that is once done, there are +always innumerable obstacles to prevent the erring person returning to +the path of rectitude: yet these obstacles, however forcible they may +appear in general, exist chiefly in imagination. + +Charlotte feared the anger of her governess: she loved her mother, +and the very idea of incurring her displeasure, gave her the greatest +uneasiness: but there was a more forcible reason still remaining: should +she show the letter to Madame Du Pont, she must confess the means by +which it came into her possession; and what would be the consequence? +Mademoiselle would be turned out of doors. + +“I must not be ungrateful,” said she. “La Rue is very kind to me; +besides I can, when I see Montraville, inform him of the impropriety of +our continuing to see or correspond with each other, and request him to +come no more to Chichester.” + +However prudent Charlotte might be in these resolutions, she certainly +did not take a proper method to confirm herself in them. Several times +in the course of the day, she indulged herself in reading over the +letter, and each time she read it, the contents sunk deeper in her +heart. As evening drew near, she caught herself frequently consulting +her watch. “I wish this foolish meeting was over,” said she, by way of +apology to her own heart, “I wish it was over; for when I have seen him, +and convinced him my resolution is not to be shaken, I shall feel my +mind much easier.” + +The appointed hour arrived. Charlotte and Mademoiselle eluded the eye of +vigilance; and Montraville, who had waited their coming with impatience, +received them with rapturous and unbounded acknowledgments for their +condescension: he had wisely brought Belcour with him to entertain +Mademoiselle, while he enjoyed an uninterrupted conversation with +Charlotte. + +Belcour was a man whose character might be comprised in a few words; and +as he will make some figure in the ensuing pages, I shall here describe +him. He possessed a genteel fortune, and had a liberal education; +dissipated, thoughtless, and capricious, he paid little regard to +the moral duties, and less to religious ones: eager in the pursuit of +pleasure, he minded not the miseries he inflicted on others, provided +his own wishes, however extravagant, were gratified. Self, darling self, +was the idol he worshipped, and to that he would have sacrificed +the interest and happiness of all mankind. Such was the friend of +Montraville: will not the reader be ready to imagine, that the man who +could regard such a character, must be actuated by the same feelings, +follow the same pursuits, and be equally unworthy with the person to +whom he thus gave his confidence? + +But Montraville was a different character: generous in his disposition, +liberal in his opinions, and good-natured almost to a fault; yet eager +and impetuous in the pursuit of a favorite object, he staid not to +reflect on the consequence which might follow the attainment of his +wishes; with a mind ever open to conviction, had he been so fortunate +as to possess a friend who would have pointed out the cruelty of +endeavouring to gain the heart of an innocent artless girl, when he +knew it was utterly impossible for him to marry her, and when the +gratification of his passion would be unavoidable infamy and misery to +her, and a cause of never-ceasing remorse to himself: had these dreadful +consequences been placed before him in a proper light, the humanity of +his nature would have urged him to give up the pursuit: but Belcour +was not this friend; he rather encouraged the growing passion of +Montraville; and being pleased with the vivacity of Mademoiselle, +resolved to leave no argument untried, which he thought might prevail on +her to be the companion of their intended voyage; and he made no doubt +but her example, added to the rhetoric of Montraville, would persuade +Charlotte to go with them. + +Charlotte had, when she went out to meet Montraville, flattered herself +that her resolution was not to be shaken, and that, conscious of the +impropriety of her conduct in having a clandestine intercourse with a +stranger, she would never repeat the indiscretion. + +But alas! poor Charlotte, she knew not the deceitfulness of her own +heart, or she would have avoided the trial of her stability. + +Montraville was tender, eloquent, ardent, and yet respectful. “Shall I +not see you once more,” said he, “before I leave England? will you not +bless me by an assurance, that when we are divided by a vast expanse of +sea I shall not be forgotten?” + +Charlotte sighed. + +“Why that sigh, my dear Charlotte? could I flatter myself that a fear +for my safety, or a wish for my welfare occasioned it, how happy would +it make me.” + +“I shall ever wish you well, Montraville,” said she; “but we must meet +no more.” “Oh say not so, my lovely girl: reflect, that when I leave my +native land, perhaps a few short weeks may terminate my existence; the +perils of the ocean--the dangers of war--” + +“I can hear no more,” said Charlotte in a tremulous voice. “I must leave +you.” + +“Say you will see me once again.” + +“I dare not,” said she. + +“Only for one half hour to-morrow evening: 'tis my last request. I shall +never trouble you again, Charlotte.” + +“I know not what to say,” cried Charlotte, struggling to draw her hands +from him: “let me leave you now.” + +“And you will come to-morrow,” said Montraville. + +“Perhaps I may,” said she. + +“Adieu then. I will live upon that hope till we meet again.” + +He kissed her hand. She sighed an adieu, and catching hold of +Mademoiselle's arm, hastily entered the garden gate. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WHEN WE HAVE EXCITED CURIOSITY, IT IS BUT AN ACT OF GOOD NATURE TO +GRATIFY IT. + +MONTRAVILLE was the youngest son of a gentleman of fortune, whose +family being numerous, he was obliged to bring up his sons to genteel +professions, by the exercise of which they might hope to raise +themselves into notice. + +“My daughters,” said he, “have been educated like gentlewomen; and +should I die before they are settled, they must have some provision +made, to place them above the snares and temptations which vice ever +holds out to the elegant, accomplished female, when oppressed by the +frowns of poverty and the sting of dependance: my boys, with only +moderate incomes, when placed in the church, at the bar, or in the +field, may exert their talents, make themselves friends, and raise their +fortunes on the basis of merit.” + +When Montraville chose the profession of arms, his father presented him +with a commission, and made him a handsome provision for his private +purse. “Now, my boy,” said he, “go! seek glory in the field of battle. +You have received from me all I shall ever have it in my power to +bestow: it is certain I have interest to gain you promotion; but be +assured that interest shall never be exerted, unless by your future +conduct you deserve it. Remember, therefore, your success in life +depends entirely on yourself. There is one thing I think it my duty to +caution you against; the precipitancy with which young men frequently +rush into matrimonial engagements, and by their thoughtlessness draw +many a deserving woman into scenes of poverty and distress. A soldier +has no business to think of a wife till his rank is such as to place him +above the fear of bringing into the world a train of helpless innocents, +heirs only to penury and affliction. If, indeed, a woman, whose fortune +is sufficient to preserve you in that state of independence I would +teach you to prize, should generously bestow herself on a young soldier, +whose chief hope of future prosperity depended on his success in the +field--if such a woman should offer--every barrier is removed, and I +should rejoice in an union which would promise so much felicity. But +mark me, boy, if, on the contrary, you rush into a precipitate union +with a girl of little or no fortune, take the poor creature from a +comfortable home and kind friends, and plunge her into all the evils +a narrow income and increasing family can inflict, I will leave you to +enjoy the blessed fruits of your rashness; for by all that is sacred, +neither my interest or fortune shall ever be exerted in your favour. I +am serious,” continued he, “therefore imprint this conversation on your +memory, and let it influence your future conduct. Your happiness will +always be dear to me; and I wish to warn you of a rock on which the +peace of many an honest fellow has been wrecked; for believe me, the +difficulties and dangers of the longest winter campaign are much easier +to be borne, than the pangs that would seize your heart, when you beheld +the woman of your choice, the children of your affection, involved +in penury and distress, and reflected that it was your own folly and +precipitancy had been the prime cause of their sufferings.” + +As this conversation passed but a few hours before Montraville took +leave of his father, it was deeply impressed on his mind: when, +therefore, Belcour came with him to the place of assignation with +Charlotte, he directed him to enquire of the French woman what were Miss +Temple's expectations in regard to fortune. + +Mademoiselle informed him, that though Charlotte's father possessed a +genteel independence, it was by no means probable that he could give his +daughter more than a thousand pounds; and in case she did not marry to +his liking, it was possible he might not give her a single SOUS; nor +did it appear the least likely, that Mr. Temple would agree to her union +with a young man on the point of embarking for the feat of war. + +Montraville therefore concluded it was impossible he should ever marry +Charlotte Temple; and what end he proposed to himself by continuing the +acquaintance he had commenced with her, he did not at that moment give +himself time to enquire. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CONFLICT OF LOVE AND DUTY. + +ALMOST a week was now gone, and Charlotte continued every evening to +meet Montraville, and in her heart every meeting was resolved to be the +last; but alas! when Montraville at parting would earnestly intreat one +more interview, that treacherous heart betrayed her; and, forgetful +of its resolution, pleaded the cause of the enemy so powerfully, that +Charlotte was unable to resist. Another and another meeting succeeded; +and so well did Montraville improve each opportunity, that the heedless +girl at length confessed no idea could be so painful to her as that of +never seeing him again. + +“Then we will never be parted,” said he. + +“Ah, Montraville,” replied Charlotte, forcing a smile, “how can it be +avoided? My parents would never consent to our union; and even could +they be brought to approve it, how should I bear to be separated from my +kind, my beloved mother?” + +“Then you love your parents more than you do me, Charlotte?” + +“I hope I do,” said she, blushing and looking down, “I hope my affection +for them will ever keep me from infringing the laws of filial duty.” + +“Well, Charlotte,” said Montraville gravely, and letting go her hand, +“since that is the case, I find I have deceived myself with fallacious +hopes. I had flattered my fond heart, that I was dearer to Charlotte +than any thing in the world beside. I thought that you would for my sake +have braved the dangers of the ocean, that you would, by your affection +and smiles, have softened the hardships of war, and, had it been my fate +to fall, that your tenderness would cheer the hour of death, and smooth +my passage to another world. But farewel, Charlotte! I see you never +loved me. I shall now welcome the friendly ball that deprives me of the +sense of my misery.” + +“Oh stay, unkind Montraville,” cried she, catching hold of his arm, as +he pretended to leave her, “stay, and to calm your fears, I will here +protest that was it not for the fear of giving pain to the best of +parents, and returning their kindness with ingratitude, I would follow +you through every danger, and, in studying to promote your happiness, +insure my own. But I cannot break my mother's heart, Montraville; I must +not bring the grey hairs of my doating grand-father with sorrow to the +grave, or make my beloved father perhaps curse the hour that gave me +birth.” She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. + +“All these distressing scenes, my dear Charlotte,” cried Montraville, +“are merely the chimeras of a disturbed fancy. Your parents might +perhaps grieve at first; but when they heard from your own hand that you +was with a man of honour, and that it was to insure your felicity by an +union with him, to which you feared they would never have given their +assent, that you left their protection, they will, be assured, forgive +an error which love alone occasioned, and when we return from America, +receive you with open arms and tears of joy.” + +Belcour and Mademoiselle heard this last speech, and conceiving it +a proper time to throw in their advice and persuasions, approached +Charlotte, and so well seconded the entreaties of Montraville, that +finding Mademoiselle intended going with Belcour, and feeling her own +treacherous heart too much inclined to accompany them, the hapless +Charlotte, in an evil hour, consented that the next evening they should +bring a chaise to the end of the town, and that she would leave her +friends, and throw herself entirely on the protection of Montraville. +“But should you,” said she, looking earnestly at him, her eyes full +of tears, “should you, forgetful of your promises, and repenting the +engagements you here voluntarily enter into, forsake and leave me on a +foreign shore--” “Judge not so meanly of me,” said he. “The moment we +reach our place of destination, Hymen shall sanctify our love; and when +I shall forget your goodness, may heaven forget me.” + +“Ah,” said Charlotte, leaning on Mademoiselle's arm as they walked up +the garden together, “I have forgot all that I ought to have remembered, +in consenting to this intended elopement.” + +“You are a strange girl,” said Mademoiselle: “you never know your +own mind two minutes at a time. Just now you declared Montraville's +happiness was what you prized most in the world; and now I suppose +you repent having insured that happiness by agreeing to accompany him +abroad.” + +“Indeed I do repent,” replied Charlotte, “from my soul: but while +discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges +me on to ruin.” + +“Ruin! fiddlestick!” said Mademoiselle; “am I not going with you? and do +I feel any of these qualms?” + +“You do not renounce a tender father and mother,” said Charlotte. + +“But I hazard my dear reputation,” replied Mademoiselle, bridling. + +“True,” replied Charlotte, “but you do not feel what I do.” She then +bade her good night: but sleep was a stranger to her eyes, and the tear +of anguish watered her pillow. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + Nature's last, best gift: + Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could + To sight or thought be nam'd! + Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet! + How thou art fall'n!-- + +WHEN Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and pale cheek +discovered to Madame Du Pont the little repose she had tasted. + +“My dear child,” said the affectionate governess, “what is the cause of +the languor so apparent in your frame? Are you not well?” + +“Yes, my dear Madam, very well,” replied Charlotte, attempting to smile, +“but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last night, and my spirits +are depressed this morning.” + +“Come cheer up, my love,” said the governess; “I believe I have brought +a cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter from your good +mama, and here is one for yourself.” + +Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words-- + +“As to-morrow is the anniversary of the happy day that gave my beloved +girl to the anxious wishes of a maternal heart, I have requested your +governess to let you come home and spend it with us; and as I know you +to be a good affectionate child, and make it your study to improve in +those branches of education which you know will give most pleasure to +your delighted parents, as a reward for your diligence and attention +I have prepared an agreeable surprise for your reception. Your +grand-father, eager to embrace the darling of his aged heart, will come +in the chaise for you; so hold yourself in readiness to attend him +by nine o'clock. Your dear father joins in every tender wish for your +health and future felicity, which warms the heart of my dear Charlotte's +affectionate mother, L. TEMPLE.” + +“Gracious heaven!” cried Charlotte, forgetting where she was, and +raising her streaming eyes as in earnest supplication. + +Madame Du Pont was surprised. “Why these tears, my love?” said she. +“Why this seeming agitation? I thought the letter would have rejoiced, +instead of distressing you.” + +“It does rejoice me,” replied Charlotte, endeavouring at composure, “but +I was praying for merit to deserve the unremitted attentions of the best +of parents.” + +“You do right,” said Madame Du Pont, “to ask the assistance of +heaven that you may continue to deserve their love. Continue, my dear +Charlotte, in the course you have ever pursued, and you will insure at +once their happiness and your own.” + +“Oh!” cried Charlotte, as her governess left her, “I have forfeited both +for ever! Yet let me reflect:--the irrevocable step is not yet taken: +it is not too late to recede from the brink of a precipice, from which I +can only behold the dark abyss of ruin, shame, and remorse!” + +She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La Rue. “Oh +Mademoiselle!” said she, “I am snatched by a miracle from destruction! +This letter has saved me: it has opened my eyes to the folly I was +so near committing. I will not go, Mademoiselle; I will not wound the +hearts of those dear parents who make my happiness the whole study of +their lives.” + +“Well,” said Mademoiselle, “do as you please, Miss; but pray understand +that my resolution is taken, and it is not in your power to alter it. +I shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed hour, and shall not be +surprized at any outrage which Montraville may commit, when he finds +himself disappointed. Indeed I should not be astonished, was he to come +immediately here, and reproach you for your instability in the hearing +of the whole school: and what will be the consequence? you will bear +the odium of having formed the resolution of eloping, and every girl +of spirit will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in execution, +while prudes and fools will load you with reproach and contempt. You +will have lost the confidence of your parents, incurred their anger, and +the scoffs of the world; and what fruit do you expect to reap from this +piece of heroism, (for such no doubt you think it is?) you will have the +pleasure to reflect, that you have deceived the man who adores you, +and whom in your heart you prefer to all other men, and that you are +separated from him for ever.” + +This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that Charlotte +could not find an opportunity to interrupt her, or to offer a single +word till the whole was finished, and then found her ideas so confused, +that she knew not what to say. + +At length she determined that she would go with Mademoiselle to the +place of assignation, convince Montraville of the necessity of adhering +to the resolution of remaining behind; assure him of her affection, and +bid him adieu. + +Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and exulted in the certainty of +its success. “How shall I rejoice,” said she, “in this triumph of reason +over inclination, and, when in the arms of my affectionate parents, lift +up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I look back on the dangers I have +escaped!” + +The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what money and +valuables she possessed in her pocket, and advised Charlotte to do +the same; but she refused; “my resolution is fixed,” said she; “I will +sacrifice love to duty.” + +Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they proceeded softly down the back +stairs and out of the garden gate. Montraville and Belcour were ready to +receive them. + +“Now,” said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his arms, “you are mine for +ever.” + +“No,” said she, withdrawing from his embrace, “I am come to take an +everlasting farewel.” + +It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued, suffice +it to say, that Montraville used every argument that had formerly been +successful, Charlotte's resolution began to waver, and he drew her +almost imperceptibly towards the chaise. + +“I cannot go,” said she: “cease, dear Montraville, to persuade. I must +not: religion, duty, forbid.” + +“Cruel Charlotte,” said he, “if you disappoint my ardent hopes, by +all that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence. I +cannot--will not live without you.” + +“Alas! my torn heart!” said Charlotte, “how shall I act?” + +“Let me direct you,” said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise. + +“Oh! my dear forsaken parents!” cried Charlotte. + +The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms of her +betrayer. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT. + +“WHAT pleasure,” cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise to go +for his grand-daughter, “what pleasure expands the heart of an old +man when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child growing up in every +virtue that adorned the minds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some +few years since, that every sense of joy was buried in the graves of my +dear partner and my son; but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed +my soul to peace, and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my +heart, and opened such new scenes of delight to my view, that I almost +forget I have ever been unhappy.” + +When the chaise stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth; so much +do the emotions of the soul influence the body. + +It was half past eight o'clock; the ladies were assembled in the school +room, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer the morning sacrifice +of prayer and praise, when it was discovered, that Mademoiselle and +Charlotte were missing. + +“She is busy, no doubt,” said the governess, “in preparing Charlotte for +her little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget our duty +to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers.” + +The lady who went to summon them, soon returned, and informed +the governess, that the room was locked, and that she had knocked +repeatedly, but obtained no answer. + +“Good heaven!” cried Madame Du Pont, “this is very strange:” and turning +pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, and ordered it to be +forced open. The apartment instantly discovered, that no person had been +in it the preceding night, the beds appearing as though just made. +The house was instantly a scene of confusion: the garden, the pleasure +grounds were searched to no purpose, every apartment rang with the names +of Miss Temple and Mademoiselle; but they were too distant to hear; and +every face wore the marks of disappointment. + +Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlour, eagerly expecting his +grand-daughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: he heard +the confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name of Charlotte +frequently repeated. “What can be the matter?” said he, rising and +opening the door: “I fear some accident has befallen my dear girl.” + +The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance +discovered that something extraordinary had happened. + +“Where is Charlotte?” said he, “Why does not my child come to welcome +her doating parent?” + +“Be composed, my dear Sir,” said Madame Du Pont, “do not frighten +yourself unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; but as +Mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily return +in safety; and I hope they will both be able to account for this +unseasonable absence in such a manner as shall remove our present +uneasiness.” + +“Madam,” cried the old man, with an angry look, “has my child been +accustomed to go out without leave, with no other company or protector +than that French woman. Pardon me, Madam, I mean no reflections on your +country, but I never did like Mademoiselle La Rue; I think she was a +very improper person to be entrusted with the care of such a girl +as Charlotte Temple, or to be suffered to take her from under your +immediate protection.” + +“You wrong me, Mr. Eldridge,” replied she, “if you suppose I have ever +permitted your grand-daughter to go out unless with the other ladies. +I would to heaven I could form any probable conjecture concerning her +absence this morning, but it is a mystery which her return can alone +unravel.” Servants were now dispatched to every place where there was +the least hope of hearing any tidings of the fugitives, but in vain. +Dreadful were the hours of horrid suspense which Mr. Eldridge passed +till twelve o'clock, when that suspense was reduced to a shocking +certainty, and every spark of hope which till then they had indulged, +was in a moment extinguished. + +Mr. Eldridge was preparing, with a heavy heart, to return to his +anxiously-expecting children, when Madame Du Pont received the following +note without either name or date. + +“Miss Temple is well, and wishes to relieve the anxiety of her +parents, by letting them know she has voluntarily put herself under +the protection of a man whose future study shall be to make her happy. +Pursuit is needless; the measures taken to avoid discovery are too +effectual to be eluded. When she thinks her friends are reconciled to +this precipitate step, they may perhaps be informed of her place of +residence. Mademoiselle is with her.” + +As Madame Du Pont read these cruel lines, she turned pale as ashes, her +limbs trembled, and she was forced to call for a glass of water. She +loved Charlotte truly; and when she reflected on the innocence and +gentleness of her disposition, she concluded that it must have been +the advice and machinations of La Rue, which led her to this imprudent +action; she recollected her agitation at the receipt of her mother's +letter, and saw in it the conflict of her mind. + +“Does that letter relate to Charlotte?” said Mr. Eldridge, having waited +some time in expectation of Madame Du Pont's speaking. + +“It does,” said she. “Charlotte is well, but cannot return today.” + +“Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from her fond, +expecting parents?” + +“You distract me with these questions, Mr. Eldridge. Indeed I know not +where she is, or who has seduced her from her duty.” + +The whole truth now rushed at once upon Mr. Eldridge's mind. “She has +eloped then,” said he. “My child is betrayed; the darling, the comfort +of my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had died but yesterday.” + +A violent gush of grief in some measure relieved him, and, after several +vain attempts, he at length assumed sufficient composure to read the +note. + +“And how shall I return to my children?” said he: “how approach that +mansion, so late the habitation of peace? Alas! my dear Lucy, how will +you support these heart-rending tidings? or how shall I be enabled to +console you, who need so much consolation myself?” + +The old man returned to the chaise, but the light step and cheerful +countenance were no more; sorrow filled his heart, and guided his +motions; he seated himself in the chaise, his venerable head reclined +upon his bosom, his hands were folded, his eye fixed on vacancy, and +the large drops of sorrow rolled silently down his cheeks. There was a +mixture of anguish and resignation depicted in his countenance, as if he +would say, henceforth who shall dare to boast his happiness, or even +in idea contemplate his treasure, lest, in the very moment his heart is +exulting in its own felicity, the object which constitutes that felicity +should be torn from him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +MATERNAL SORROW. + +SLOW and heavy passed the time while the carriage was conveying Mr. +Eldridge home; and yet when he came in sight of the house, he wished a +longer reprieve from the dreadful task of informing Mr. and Mrs. Temple +of their daughter's elopement. + +It is easy to judge the anxiety of these affectionate parents, when they +found the return of their father delayed so much beyond the expected +time. They were now met in the dining parlour, and several of the young +people who had been invited were already arrived. Each different part of +the company was employed in the same manner, looking out at the windows +which faced the road. At length the long-expected chaise appeared. Mrs. +Temple ran out to receive and welcome her darling: her young companions +flocked round the door, each one eager to give her joy on the return +of her birth-day. The door of the chaise was opened: Charlotte was not +there. “Where is my child?” cried Mrs. Temple, in breathless agitation. + +Mr. Eldridge could not answer: he took hold of his daughter's hand and +led her into the house; and sinking on the first chair he came to, burst +into tears, and sobbed aloud. + +“She is dead,” cried Mrs. Temple. “Oh my dear Charlotte!” and clasping +her hands in an agony of distress, fell into strong hysterics. + +Mr. Temple, who had stood speechless with surprize and fear, now +ventured to enquire if indeed his Charlotte was no more. Mr. Eldridge +led him into another apartment; and putting the fatal note into +his hand, cried--“Bear it like a Christian,” and turned from him, +endeavouring to suppress his own too visible emotions. + +It would be vain to attempt describing what Mr. Temple felt whilst he +hastily ran over the dreadful lines: when he had finished, the paper +dropt from his unnerved hand. “Gracious heaven!” said he, “could +Charlotte act thus?” Neither tear nor sigh escaped him; and he sat +the image of mute sorrow, till roused from his stupor by the repeated +shrieks of Mrs. Temple. He rose hastily, and rushing into the apartment +where she was, folded his arms about her, and saying--“Let us be +patient, my dear Lucy,” nature relieved his almost bursting heart by a +friendly gush of tears. + +Should any one, presuming on his own philosophic temper, look with an +eye of contempt on the man who could indulge a woman's weakness, let him +remember that man was a father, and he will then pity the misery which +wrung those drops from a noble, generous heart. + +Mrs. Temple beginning to be a little more composed, but still imagining +her child was dead, her husband, gently taking her hand, cried--“You are +mistaken, my love. Charlotte is not dead.” + +“Then she is very ill, else why did she not come? But I will go to her: +the chaise is still at the door: let me go instantly to the dear girl. +If I was ill, she would fly to attend me, to alleviate my sufferings, +and cheer me with her love.” + +“Be calm, my dearest Lucy, and I will tell you all,” said Mr. Temple. +“You must not go, indeed you must not; it will be of no use.” + +“Temple,” said she, assuming a look of firmness and composure, “tell +me the truth I beseech you. I cannot bear this dreadful suspense. What +misfortune has befallen my child? Let me know the worst, and I will +endeavour to bear it as I ought.” + +“Lucy,” replied Mr. Temple, “imagine your daughter alive, and in no +danger of death: what misfortune would you then dread?” + +“There is one misfortune which is worse than death. But I know my child +too well to suspect--” + +“Be not too confident, Lucy.” + +“Oh heavens!” said she, “what horrid images do you start: is it possible +she should forget--” + +“She has forgot us all, my love; she has preferred the love of a +stranger to the affectionate protection of her friends. + +“Not eloped?” cried she eagerly. + +Mr. Temple was silent. + +“You cannot contradict it,” said she. “I see my fate in those tearful +eyes. Oh Charlotte! Charlotte! how ill have you requited our tenderness! +But, Father of Mercies,” continued she, sinking on her knees, and +raising her streaming eyes and clasped hands to heaven, “this once +vouchsafe to hear a fond, a distracted mother's prayer. Oh let thy +bounteous Providence watch over and protect the dear thoughtless girl, +save her from the miseries which I fear will be her portion, and oh! +of thine infinite mercy, make her not a mother, lest she should one day +feel what I now suffer.” + +The last words faultered on her tongue, and she fell fainting into the +arms of her husband, who had involuntarily dropped on his knees beside +her. + +A mother's anguish, when disappointed in her tenderest hopes, none but +a mother can conceive. Yet, my dear young readers, I would have you read +this scene with attention, and reflect that you may yourselves one day +be mothers. Oh my friends, as you value your eternal happiness, wound +not, by thoughtless ingratitude, the peace of the mother who bore you: +remember the tenderness, the care, the unremitting anxiety with which +she has attended to all your wants and wishes from earliest infancy to +the present day; behold the mild ray of affectionate applause that beams +from her eye on the performance of your duty: listen to her reproofs +with silent attention; they proceed from a heart anxious for your future +felicity: you must love her; nature, all-powerful nature, has planted +the seeds of filial affection in your bosoms. + +Then once more read over the sorrows of poor Mrs. Temple, and remember, +the mother whom you so dearly love and venerate will feel the same, when +you, forgetful of the respect due to your maker and yourself, forsake +the paths of virtue for those of vice and folly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +EMBARKATION. + +IT was with the utmost difficulty that the united efforts of +Mademoiselle and Montraville could support Charlotte's spirits during +their short ride from Chichester to Portsmouth, where a boat waited to +take them immediately on board the ship in which they were to embark for +America. + +As soon as she became tolerably composed, she entreated pen and ink +to write to her parents. This she did in the most affecting, artless +manner, entreating their pardon and blessing, and describing +the dreadful situation of her mind, the conflict she suffered in +endeavouring to conquer this unfortunate attachment, and concluded +with saying, her only hope of future comfort consisted in the (perhaps +delusive) idea she indulged, of being once more folded in their +protecting arms, and hearing the words of peace and pardon from their +lips. + +The tears streamed incessantly while she was writing, and she was +frequently obliged to lay down her pen: but when the task was completed, +and she had committed the letter to the care of Montraville to be sent +to the post office, she became more calm, and indulging the delightful +hope of soon receiving an answer that would seal her pardon, she in some +measure assumed her usual cheerfulness. + +But Montraville knew too well the consequences that must unavoidably +ensue, should this letter reach Mr. Temple: he therefore wisely resolved +to walk on the deck, tear it in pieces, and commit the fragments to the +care of Neptune, who might or might not, as it suited his convenience, +convey them on shore. + +All Charlotte's hopes and wishes were now concentred in one, namely that +the fleet might be detained at Spithead till she could receive a letter +from her friends: but in this she was disappointed, for the second +morning after she went on board, the signal was made, the fleet weighed +anchor, and in a few hours (the wind being favourable) they bid adieu to +the white cliffs of Al-bion. + +In the mean time every enquiry that could be thought of was made by Mr. +and Mrs. Temple; for many days did they indulge the fond hope that she +was merely gone off to be married, and that when the indissoluble knot +was once tied, she would return with the partner she had chosen, and +entreat their blessing and forgiveness. + +“And shall we not forgive her?” said Mr. Temple. + +“Forgive her!” exclaimed the mother. “Oh yes, whatever be our errors, +is she not our child? and though bowed to the earth even with shame +and remorse, is it not our duty to raise the poor penitent, and whisper +peace and comfort to her desponding soul? would she but return, with +rapture would I fold her to my heart, and bury every remembrance of her +faults in the dear embrace.” + +But still day after day passed on, and Charlotte did not appear, +nor were any tidings to be heard of her: yet each rising morning was +welcomed by some new hope--the evening brought with it disappointment. +At length hope was no more; despair usurped her place; and the mansion +which was once the mansion of peace, became the habitation of pale, +dejected melancholy. + +The cheerful smile that was wont to adorn the face of Mrs. Temple was +fled, and had it not been for the support of unaffected piety, and a +consciousness of having ever set before her child the fairest example, +she must have sunk under this heavy affliction. + +“Since,” said she, “the severest scrutiny cannot charge me with any +breach of duty to have deserved this severe chastisement, I will bow +before the power who inflicts it with humble resignation to his will; +nor shall the duty of a wife be totally absorbed in the feelings of the +mother; I will endeavour to appear more cheerful, and by appearing in +some measure to have conquered my own sorrow, alleviate the sufferings +of my husband, and rouse him from that torpor into which this misfortune +has plunged him. My father too demands my care and attention: I must +not, by a selfish indulgence of my own grief, forget the interest those +two dear objects take in my happiness or misery: I will wear a smile on +my face, though the thorn rankles in my heart; and if by so doing, I in +the smallest degree contribute to restore their peace of mind, I shall +be amply rewarded for the pain the concealment of my own feelings may +occasion.” + +Thus argued this excellent woman: and in the execution of so laudable +a resolution we shall leave her, to follow the fortunes of the hapless +victim of imprudence and evil counsellors. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +NECESSARY DIGRESSION. + +ON board of the ship in which Charlotte and Mademoiselle were embarked, +was an officer of large unincumbered fortune and elevated rank, and whom +I shall call Crayton. + +He was one of those men, who, having travelled in their youth, pretend +to have contracted a peculiar fondness for every thing foreign, and to +hold in contempt the productions of their own country; and this affected +partiality extended even to the women. + +With him therefore the blushing modesty and unaffected simplicity of +Charlotte passed unnoticed; but the forward pertness of La Rue, the +freedom of her conversation, the elegance of her person, mixed with a +certain engaging JE NE SAIS QUOI, perfectly enchanted him. + +The reader no doubt has already developed the character of La Rue: +designing, artful, and selfish, she had accepted the devoirs of Belcour +because she was heartily weary of the retired life she led at the +school, wished to be released from what she deemed a slavery, and to +return to that vortex of folly and dissipation which had once plunged +her into the deepest misery; but her plan she flattered herself was now +better formed: she resolved to put herself under the protection of no +man till she had first secured a settlement; but the clandestine manner +in which she left Madame Du Pont's prevented her putting this plan +in execution, though Belcour solemnly protested he would make her a +handsome settlement the moment they arrived at Portsmouth. This he +afterwards contrived to evade by a pretended hurry of business; La Rue +readily conceiving he never meant to fulfil his promise, determined to +change her battery, and attack the heart of Colonel Crayton. She soon +discovered the partiality he entertained for her nation; and having +imposed on him a feigned tale of distress, representing Belcour as a +villain who had seduced her from her friends under promise of marriage, +and afterwards betrayed her, pretending great remorse for the errors she +had committed, and declaring whatever her affection for Belcour might +have been, it was now entirely extinguished, and she wished for nothing +more than an opportunity to leave a course of life which her soul +abhorred; but she had no friends to apply to, they had all renounced +her, and guilt and misery would undoubtedly be her future portion +through life. + +Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities, though the peculiar +trait in his character, which we have already mentioned, in a great +measure threw a shade over them. He was beloved for his humanity and +benevolence by all who knew him, but he was easy and unsuspicious +himself, and became a dupe to the artifice of others. + +He was, when very young, united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps +it was his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality +he ever retained for the whole nation. He had by her one daughter, who +entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. This +lady was universally beloved and admired, being endowed with all the +virtues of her mother, without the weakness of the father: she was +married to Major Beauchamp, and was at this time in the same fleet with +her father, attending her husband to New-York. + +Crayton was melted by the affected contrition and distress of La Rue: +he would converse with her for hours, read to her, play cards with her, +listen to all her complaints, and promise to protect her to the utmost +of his power. La Rue easily saw his character; her sole aim was to +awaken a passion in his bosom that might turn out to her advantage, +and in this aim she was but too successful, for before the voyage was +finished, the infatuated Colonel gave her from under his hand a promise +of marriage on their arrival at New-York, under forfeiture of five +thousand pounds. + +And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious and +tempestuous passage? naturally delicate, the fatigue and sickness which +she endured rendered her so weak as to be almost entirely confined to +her bed: yet the kindness and attention of Montraville in some measure +contributed to alleviate her sufferings, and the hope of hearing from +her friends soon after her arrival, kept up her spirits, and cheered +many a gloomy hour. + +But during the voyage a great revolution took place not only in the +fortune of La Rue but in the bosom of Belcour: whilst in pursuit of +his amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended little to the interesting, +inobtrusive charms of Charlotte, but when, cloyed by possession, +and disgusted with the art and dissimulation of one, he beheld the +simplicity and gentleness of the other, the contrast became too striking +not to fill him at once with surprise and admiration. He frequently +conversed with Charlotte; he found her sensible, well informed, but +diffident and unassuming. The languor which the fatigue of her body and +perturbation of her mind spread over her delicate features, served only +in his opinion to render her more lovely: he knew that Montraville did +not design to marry her, and he formed a resolution to endeavour to gain +her himself whenever Montraville should leave her. + +Let not the reader imagine Belcour's designs were honourable. Alas! when +once a woman has forgot the respect due to herself, by yielding to the +solicitations of illicit love, they lose all their consequence, even in +the eyes of the man whose art has betrayed them, and for whose sake they +have sacrificed every valuable consideration. + + The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys, + A man may pity--but he must despise. + +Nay, every libertine will think he has a right to insult her with his +licentious passion; and should the unhappy creature shrink from the +insolent overture, he will sneeringly taunt her with pretence of +modesty. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A WEDDING. + +ON the day before their arrival at New-York, after dinner, Crayton arose +from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, thus addressed the +company-- + +“As we are now nearly arrived at our destined port, I think it but my +duty to inform you, my friends, that this lady,” (taking her hand,) “has +placed herself under my protection. I have seen and severely felt the +anguish of her heart, and through every shade which cruelty or malice +may throw over her, can discover the most amiable qualities. I thought +it but necessary to mention my esteem for her before our disembarkation, +as it is my fixed resolution, the morning after we land, to give her +an undoubted title to my favour and protection by honourably uniting my +fate to hers. I would wish every gentleman here therefore to remember +that her honour henceforth is mine, and,” continued he, looking at +Belcour, “should any man presume to speak in the least disrespectfully +of her, I shall not hesitate to pronounce him a scoundrel.” + +Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bowing profoundly low, +wished Mademoiselle much joy in the proposed union; and assuring +the Colonel that he need not be in the least apprehensive of any one +throwing the least odium on the character of his lady, shook him by the +hand with ridiculous gravity, and left the cabin. + +The truth was, he was glad to be rid of La Rue, and so he was but freed +from her, he cared not who fell a victim to her infamous arts. + +The inexperienced Charlotte was astonished at what she heard. She +thought La Rue had, like herself, only been urged by the force of her +attachment to Belcour, to quit her friends, and follow him to the feat +of war: how wonderful then, that she should resolve to marry another +man. It was certainly extremely wrong. It was indelicate. She mentioned +her thoughts to Montraville. He laughed at her simplicity, called her a +little idiot, and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of +the world. “If the world sanctifies such things, 'tis a very bad world I +think,” said Charlotte. “Why I always understood they were to have been +married when they arrived at New-York. I am sure Mademoiselle told me +Belcour promised to marry her.” + +“Well, and suppose he did?” + +“Why, he should be obliged to keep his word I think.” + +“Well, but I suppose he has changed his mind,” said Montraville, “and +then you know the case is altered.” + +Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment. A full sense of her +own situation rushed upon her mind. She burst into tears, and remained +silent. Montraville too well understood the cause of her tears. He +kissed her cheek, and bidding her not make herself uneasy, unable to +bear the silent but keen remonstrance, hastily left her. + +The next morning by sun-rise they found themselves at anchor before +the city of New-York. A boat was ordered to convey the ladies on shore. +Crayton accompanied them; and they were shewn to a house of public +entertainment. Scarcely were they seated when the door opened, and the +Colonel found himself in the arms of his daughter, who had landed a few +minutes before him. The first transport of meeting subsided, Crayton +introduced his daughter to Mademoiselle La Rue, as an old friend of her +mother's, (for the artful French woman had really made it appear to the +credulous Colonel that she was in the same convent with his first wife, +and, though much younger, had received many tokens of her esteem and +regard.) + +“If, Mademoiselle,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “you were the friend of +my mother, you must be worthy the esteem of all good hearts.” + “Mademoiselle will soon honour our family,” said Crayton, “by supplying +the place that valuable woman filled: and as you are married, my dear, I +think you will not blame--” + +“Hush, my dear Sir,” replied Mrs. Beauchamp: “I know my duty too well to +scrutinize your conduct. Be assured, my dear father, your happiness +is mine. I shall rejoice in it, and sincerely love the person who +contributes to it. But tell me,” continued she, turning to Charlotte, +“who is this lovely girl? Is she your sister, Mademoiselle?” + +A blush, deep as the glow of the carnation, suffused the cheeks of +Charlotte. + +“It is a young lady,” replied the Colonel, “who came in the same vessel +with us from England.' He then drew his daughter aside, and told her in +a whisper, Charlotte was the mistress of Montraville. + +“What a pity!” said Mrs. Beauchamp softly, (casting a most compassionate +glance at her.) “But surely her mind is not depraved. The goodness of +her heart is depicted in her ingenuous countenance.” + +Charlotte caught the word pity. “And am I already fallen so low?” said +she. A sigh escaped her, and a tear was ready to start, but Montraville +appeared, and she checked the rising emotion. Mademoiselle went with the +Colonel and his daughter to another apartment. Charlotte remained with +Montraville and Belcour. The next morning the Colonel performed his +promise, and La Rue became in due form Mrs. Crayton, exulted in her +own good fortune, and dared to look with an eye of contempt on the +unfortunate but far less guilty Charlotte. + + + + + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +REFLECTIONS. + +“AND am I indeed fallen so low,” said Charlotte, “as to be only pitied? +Will the voice of approbation no more meet my ear? and shall I never +again possess a friend, whose face will wear a smile of joy whenever I +approach? Alas! how thoughtless, how dreadfully imprudent have I been! I +know not which is most painful to endure, the sneer of contempt, or the +glance of compassion, which is depicted in the various countenances +of my own sex: they are both equally humiliating. Ah! my dear parents, +could you now see the child of your affections, the daughter whom you so +dearly loved, a poor solitary being, without society, here wearing out +her heavy hours in deep regret and anguish of heart, no kind friend of +her own sex to whom she can unbosom her griefs, no beloved mother, no +woman of character will appear in my company, and low as your Charlotte +is fallen, she cannot associate with infamy.” + +These were the painful reflections which occupied the mind of Charlotte. +Montraville had placed her in a small house a few miles from New-York: +he gave her one female attendant, and supplied her with what money she +wanted; but business and pleasure so entirely occupied his time, that +he had little to devote to the woman, whom he had brought from all her +connections, and robbed of innocence. Sometimes, indeed, he would steal +out at the close of evening, and pass a few hours with her; and then so +much was she attached to him, that all her sorrows were forgotten while +blest with his society: she would enjoy a walk by moonlight, or sit +by him in a little arbour at the bottom of the garden, and play on the +harp, accompanying it with her plaintive, harmonious voice. But often, +very often, did he promise to renew his visits, and, forgetful of his +promise, leave her to mourn her disappointment. What painful hours +of expectation would she pass! She would sit at a window which looked +toward a field he used to cross, counting the minutes, and straining her +eyes to catch the first glimpse of his person, till blinded with tears +of disappointment, she would lean her head on her hands, and give free +vent to her sorrows: then catching at some new hope, she would again +renew her watchful position, till the shades of evening enveloped every +object in a dusky cloud: she would then renew her complaints, and, with +a heart bursting with disappointed love and wounded sensibility, retire +to a bed which remorse had strewed with thorns, and court in vain that +comforter of weary nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) to come and +steep her senses in oblivion. + +Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind of +Charlotte? The wife, whose breast glows with affection to her husband, +and who in return meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive her +anguish. Dreadfully painful is the situation of such a woman, but she +has many comforts of which our poor Charlotte was deprived. The duteous, +faithful wife, though treated with indifference, has one solid pleasure +within her own bosom, she can reflect that she has not deserved +neglect--that she has ever fulfilled the duties of her station with the +strictest exactness; she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted +attention, to recall her wanderer, and be doubly happy in his returning +affection; she knows he cannot leave her to unite himself to another: he +cannot cast her out to poverty and contempt; she looks around her, +and sees the smile of friendly welcome, or the tear of affectionate +consolation, on the face of every person whom she favours with her +esteem; and from all these circumstances she gathers comfort: but the +poor girl by thoughtless passion led astray, who, in parting with +her honour, has forfeited the esteem of the very man to whom she has +sacrificed every thing dear and valuable in life, feels his indifference +in the fruit of her own folly, and laments her want of power to recall +his lost affection; she knows there is no tie but honour, and that, in +a man who has been guilty of seduction, is but very feeble: he may leave +her in a moment to shame and want; he may marry and forsake her for +ever; and should he, she has no redress, no friendly, soothing companion +to pour into her wounded mind the balm of consolation, no benevolent +hand to lead her back to the path of rectitude; she has disgraced her +friends, forfeited the good opinion of the world, and undone herself; +she feels herself a poor solitary being in the midst of surrounding +multitudes; shame bows her to the earth, remorse tears her distracted +mind, and guilt, poverty, and disease close the dreadful scene: she +sinks unnoticed to oblivion. The finger of contempt may point out to +some passing daughter of youthful mirth, the humble bed where lies this +frail sister of mortality; and will she, in the unbounded gaiety of her +heart, exult in her own unblemished fame, and triumph over the silent +ashes of the dead? Oh no! has she a heart of sensibility, she will stop, +and thus address the unhappy victim of folly-- + +“Thou had'st thy faults, but sure thy sufferings have expiated them: +thy errors brought thee to an early grave; but thou wert a +fellow-creature--thou hast been unhappy--then be those errors forgotten.” + +Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear +will fall, and consecrate the spot to Charity. + +For ever honoured be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of mercy +shall record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang shall be +immortal. + +My dear Madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. I +mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims +to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many errors we are +ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid in the recesses of +our hearts, which we should blush to have brought into open day (and yet +those faults require the lenity and pity of a benevolent judge, or +awful would be our prospect of futurity) I say, my dear Madam, when we +consider this, we surely may pity the faults of others. + +Believe me, many an unfortunate female, who has once strayed into the +thorny paths of vice, would gladly return to virtue, was any generous +friend to endeavour to raise and re-assure her; but alas! it cannot be, +you say; the world would deride and scoff. Then let me tell you, Madam, +'tis a very unfeeling world, and does not deserve half the blessings +which a bountiful Providence showers upon it. + +Oh, thou benevolent giver of all good! how shall we erring mortals +dare to look up to thy mercy in the great day of retribution, if we now +uncharitably refuse to overlook the errors, or alleviate the miseries, +of our fellow-creatures. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A MISTAKE DISCOVERED. + +JULIA Franklin was the only child of a man of large property, who, at +the age of eighteen, left her independent mistress of an unincumbered +income of seven hundred a year; she was a girl of a lively disposition, +and humane, susceptible heart: she resided in New-York with an uncle, +who loved her too well, and had too high an opinion of her prudence, to +scrutinize her actions so much as would have been necessary with many +young ladies, who were not blest with her discretion: she was, at the +time Montraville arrived at New-York, the life of society, and the +universal toast. Montraville was introduced to her by the following +accident. + +One night when he was upon guard, a dreadful fire broke out near Mr. +Franklin's house, which, in a few hours, reduced that and several others +to ashes; fortunately no lives were lost, and, by the assiduity of the +soldiers, much valuable property was saved from the flames. In the midst +of the confusion an old gentleman came up to Montraville, and, putting +a small box into his hands, cried--“Keep it, my good Sir, till I come +to you again;” and then rushing again into the thickest of the +crowd, Montraville saw him no more. He waited till the fire was quite +extinguished and the mob dispersed; but in vain: the old gentleman did +not appear to claim his property; and Montraville, fearing to make any +enquiry, lest he should meet with impostors who might lay claim, without +any legal right, to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it +up: he naturally imagined, that the person who committed it to his care +knew him, and would, in a day or two, reclaim it; but several weeks +passed on, and no enquiry being made, he began to be uneasy, and +resolved to examine the contents of the box, and if they were, as he +supposed, valuable, to spare no pains to discover, and restore them +to the owner. Upon opening it, he found it contained jewels to a large +amount, about two hundred pounds in money, and a miniature picture set +for a bracelet. On examining the picture, he thought he had somewhere +seen features very like it, but could not recollect where. A few +days after, being at a public assembly, he saw Miss Franklin, and the +likeness was too evident to be mistaken: he enquired among his brother +officers if any of them knew her, and found one who was upon terms of +intimacy in the family: “then introduce me to her immediately,” said +he, “for I am certain I can inform her of something which will give her +peculiar pleasure.” + +He was immediately introduced, found she was the owner of the jewels, +and was invited to breakfast the next morning in order to their +restoration. This whole evening Montraville was honoured with Julia's +hand; the lively sallies of her wit, the elegance of her manner, +powerfully charmed him: he forgot Charlotte, and indulged himself in +saying every thing that was polite and tender to Julia. But on retiring, +recollection returned. “What am I about?” said he: “though I cannot +marry Charlotte, I cannot be villain enough to forsake her, nor must +I dare to trifle with the heart of Julia Franklin. I will return this +box,” said he, “which has been the source of so much uneasiness already, +and in the evening pay a visit to my poor melancholy Charlotte, and +endeavour to forget this fascinating Julia.” + +He arose, dressed himself, and taking the picture out, “I will reserve +this from the rest,” said he, “and by presenting it to her when she +thinks it is lost, enhance the value of the obligation.” He repaired to +Mr. Franklin's, and found Julia in the breakfast parlour alone. + +“How happy am I, Madam,” said he, “that being the fortunate instrument +of saving these jewels has been the means of procuring me the +acquaintance of so amiable a lady. There are the jewels and money all +safe.” + +“But where is the picture, Sir?” said Julia. + +“Here, Madam. I would not willingly part with it.” + +“It is the portrait of my mother,” said she, taking it from him: “'tis +all that remains.” She pressed it to her lips, and a tear trembled in +her eyes. Montraville glanced his eye on her grey night gown and black +ribbon, and his own feelings prevented a reply. + +Julia Franklin was the very reverse of Charlotte Temple: she was tall, +elegantly shaped, and possessed much of the air and manner of a woman +of fashion; her complexion was a clear brown, enlivened with the glow of +health, her eyes, full, black, and sparkling, darted their intelligent +glances through long silken lashes; her hair was shining brown, and her +features regular and striking; there was an air of innocent gaiety that +played about her countenance, where good humour sat triumphant. + +“I have been mistaken,” said Montraville. “I imagined I loved Charlotte: +but alas! I am now too late convinced my attachment to her was merely +the impulse of the moment. I fear I have not only entailed lasting +misery on that poor girl, but also thrown a barrier in the way of my own +happiness, which it will be impossible to surmount. I feel I love Julia +Franklin with ardour and sincerity; yet, when in her presence, I am +sensible of my own inability to offer a heart worthy her acceptance, and +remain silent.” Full of these painful thoughts, Montraville walked out +to see Charlotte: she saw him approach, and ran out to meet him: she +banished from her countenance the air of discontent which ever appeared +when he was absent, and met him with a smile of joy. + +“I thought you had forgot me, Montraville,” said she, “and was very +unhappy.” + +“I shall never forget you, Charlotte,” he replied, pressing her hand. + +The uncommon gravity of his countenance, and the brevity of his reply, +alarmed her. + +“You are not well,” said she; “your hand is hot; your eyes are heavy; +you are very ill.” + +“I am a villain,” said he mentally, as he turned from her to hide his +emotions. + +“But come,” continued she tenderly, “you shall go to bed, and I will sit +by, and watch you; you will be better when you have slept.” + +Montraville was glad to retire, and by pretending sleep, hide the +agitation of his mind from her penetrating eye. Charlotte watched by him +till a late hour, and then, lying softly down by his side, sunk into a +profound sleep, from whence she awoke not till late the next morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth + her hand to raise a fallen sister. + +CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. + +WHEN Charlotte awoke, she missed Montraville; but thinking he might have +arisen early to enjoy the beauties of the morning, she was preparing +to follow him, when casting her eye on the table, she saw a note, and +opening it hastily, found these words-- + +“My dear Charlotte must not be surprised, if she does not see me again +for some time: unavoidable business will prevent me that pleasure: be +assured I am quite well this morning; and what your fond imagination +magnified into illness, was nothing more than fatigue, which a few hours +rest has entirely removed. Make yourself happy, and be certain of the +unalterable friendship of + +“MONTRAVILLE.” + + +“FRIENDSHIP!” said Charlotte emphatically, as she finished the note, “is +it come to this at last? Alas! poor, forsaken Charlotte, thy doom is now +but too apparent. Montraville is no longer interested in thy happiness; +and shame, remorse, and disappointed love will henceforth be thy only +attendants.” + +Though these were the ideas that involuntarily rushed upon the mind +of Charlotte as she perused the fatal note, yet after a few hours had +elapsed, the syren Hope again took possession of her bosom, and she +flattered herself she could, on a second perusal, discover an air of +tenderness in the few lines he had left, which at first had escaped her +notice. + +“He certainly cannot be so base as to leave me,” said she, “and in +styling himself my friend does he not promise to protect me. I will not +torment myself with these causeless fears; I will place a confidence in +his honour; and sure he will not be so unjust as to abuse it.” + +Just as she had by this manner of reasoning brought her mind to some +tolerable degree of composure, she was surprised by a visit from +Belcour. The dejection visible in Charlotte's countenance, her swoln +eyes and neglected attire, at once told him she was unhappy: he made no +doubt but Montraville had, by his coldness, alarmed her suspicions, +and was resolved, if possible, to rouse her to jealousy, urge her to +reproach him, and by that means occasion a breach between them. “If I +can once convince her that she has a rival,” said he, “she will listen +to my passion if it is only to revenge his slights.” Belcour knew but +little of the female heart; and what he did know was only of those of +loose and dissolute lives. He had no idea that a woman might fall a +victim to imprudence, and yet retain so strong a sense of honour, as to +reject with horror and contempt every solicitation to a second fault. +He never imagined that a gentle, generous female heart, once tenderly +attached, when treated with unkindness might break, but would never +harbour a thought of revenge. + +His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the +heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her +life. + +We will now return for a moment to Colonel Crayton. He had been three +months married, and in that little time had discovered that the +conduct of his lady was not so prudent as it ought to have been: but +remonstrance was vain; her temper was violent; and to the Colonel's +great misfortune he had conceived a sincere affection for her: she saw +her own power, and, with the art of a Circe, made every action appear +to him in what light she pleased: his acquaintance laughed at his +blindness, his friends pitied his infatuation, his amiable daughter, +Mrs. Beauchamp, in secret deplored the loss of her father's affection, +and grieved that he should be so entirely swayed by an artful, and, she +much feared, infamous woman. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was mild and engaging; she loved not the hurry and bustle +of a city, and had prevailed on her husband to take a house a few +miles from New-York. Chance led her into the same neighbourhood with +Charlotte; their houses stood within a short space of each other, and +their gardens joined: she had not been long in her new habitation before +the figure of Charlotte struck her; she recollected her interesting +features; she saw the melancholy so conspicuous in her countenance, +and her heart bled at the reflection, that perhaps deprived of honour, +friends, all that was valuable in life, she was doomed to linger out a +wretched existence in a strange land, and sink broken-hearted into +an untimely grave. “Would to heaven I could snatch her from so hard +a fate,” said she; “but the merciless world has barred the doors of +compassion against a poor weak girl, who, perhaps, had she one kind +friend to raise and reassure her, would gladly return to peace and +virtue; nay, even the woman who dares to pity, and endeavour to recall +a wandering sister, incurs the sneer of contempt and ridicule, for an +action in which even angels are said to rejoice.” + +The longer Mrs. Beauchamp was a witness to the solitary life Charlotte +led, the more she wished to speak to her, and often as she saw her +cheeks wet with the tears of anguish, she would say--“Dear sufferer, how +gladly would I pour into your heart the balm of consolation, were it not +for the fear of derision.” + +But an accident soon happened which made her resolve to brave even the +scoffs of the world, rather than not enjoy the heavenly satisfaction of +comforting a desponding fellow-creature. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was an early riser. She was one morning walking in the +garden, leaning on her husband's arm, when the sound of a harp attracted +their notice: they listened attentively, and heard a soft melodious +voice distinctly sing the following stanzas: + + Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, + Just rising from the sea, + To cheer all nature with thy light, + What are thy beams to me? + In vain thy glories bid me rise, + To hail the new-born day, + Alas! my morning sacrifice + Is still to weep and pray. + For what are nature's charms combin'd, + To one, whose weary breast + Can neither peace nor comfort find, + Nor friend whereon to rest? + Oh! never! never! whilst I live + Can my heart's anguish cease: + Come, friendly death, thy mandate give, + And let me be at peace. + +“'Tis poor Charlotte!” said Mrs. Beauchamp, the pellucid drop of +humanity stealing down her cheek. + +Captain Beauchamp was alarmed at her emotion. “What Charlotte?” said he; +“do you know her?” + +In the accent of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband +Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had formed of +being serviceable to her. “I fear,” continued she, “the poor girl has +been basely betrayed; and if I thought you would not blame me, I would +pay her a visit, offer her my friendship, and endeavour to restore +to her heart that peace she seems to have lost, and so pathetically +laments. Who knows, my dear,” laying her hand affectionately on his arm, +“who knows but she has left some kind, affectionate parents to lament +her errors, and would she return, they might with rapture receive the +poor penitent, and wash away her faults in tears of joy. Oh! what a +glorious reflexion would it be for me could I be the happy instrument of +restoring her. Her heart may not be depraved, Beauchamp.” + +“Exalted woman!” cried Beauchamp, embracing her, “how dost thou rise +every moment in my esteem. Follow the impulse of thy generous heart, +my Emily. Let prudes and fools censure if they dare, and blame a +sensibility they never felt; I will exultingly tell them that the heart +that is truly virtuous is ever inclined to pity and forgive the errors +of its fellow-creatures.” + +A beam of exulting joy played round the animated countenance of Mrs. +Beauchamp, at these encomiums bestowed on her by a beloved husband, the +most delightful sensations pervaded her heart, and, having breakfasted, +she prepared to visit Charlotte. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see, + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. POPE. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp was dressed, she began to feel embarrassed at the +thought of beginning an acquaintance with Charlotte, and was distressed +how to make the first visit. “I cannot go without some introduction,” + said she, “it will look so like impertinent curiosity.” At length +recollecting herself, she stepped into the garden, and gathering a few +fine cucumbers, took them in her hand by way of apology for her visit. + +A glow of conscious shame vermillioned Charlotte's face as Mrs. +Beauchamp entered. + +“You will pardon me, Madam,” said she, “for not having before paid my +respects to so amiable a neighbour; but we English people always keep up +that reserve which is the characteristic of our nation wherever we go. I +have taken the liberty to bring you a few cucumbers, for I observed you +had none in your garden.” + +Charlotte, though naturally polite and well-bred, was so confused she +could hardly speak. Her kind visitor endeavoured to relieve her by +not noticing her embarrassment. “I am come, Madam,” continued she, “to +request you will spend the day with me. I shall be alone; and, as we are +both strangers in this country, we may hereafter be extremely happy in +each other's friendship.” + +“Your friendship, Madam,” said Charlotte blushing, “is an honour to +all who are favoured with it. Little as I have seen of this part of the +world, I am no stranger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness of heart and known +humanity: but my friendship--” She paused, glanced her eye upon her own +visible situation, and, spite of her endeavours to suppress them, burst +into tears. + +Mrs. Beauchamp guessed the source from whence those tears flowed. +“You seem unhappy, Madam,” said she: “shall I be thought worthy your +confidence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, and +rest on my assurances to exert my utmost power to serve you.” Charlotte +returned a look of gratitude, but could not speak, and Mrs. Beauchamp +continued--“My heart was interested in your behalf the first moment I +saw you, and I only lament I had not made earlier overtures towards an +acquaintance; but I flatter myself you will henceforth consider me as +your friend.” + +“Oh Madam!” cried Charlotte, “I have forfeited the good opinion of all +my friends; I have forsaken them, and undone myself.” + +“Come, come, my dear,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “you must not indulge +these gloomy thoughts: you are not I hope so miserable as you imagine +yourself: endeavour to be composed, and let me be favoured with your +company at dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your +friend, and repose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you it +shall not be abused.” She then arose, and bade her good morning. + +At the dining hour Charlotte repaired to Mrs. Beauchamp's, and during +dinner assumed as composed an aspect as possible; but when the cloth +was removed, she summoned all her resolution and determined to make Mrs. +Beauchamp acquainted with every circumstance preceding her unfortunate +elopement, and the earnest desire she had to quit a way of life so +repugnant to her feelings. + +With the benignant aspect of an angel of mercy did Mrs. Beauchamp listen +to the artless tale: she was shocked to the soul to find how large a +share La Rue had in the seduction of this amiable girl, and a tear fell, +when she reflected so vile a woman was now the wife of her father. +When Charlotte had finished, she gave her a little time to collect her +scattered spirits, and then asked her if she had never written to her +friends. + +“Oh yes, Madam,” said she, “frequently: but I have broke their hearts: +they are either dead or have cast me off for ever, for I have never +received a single line from them.” + +“I rather suspect,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “they have never had your +letters: but suppose you were to hear from them, and they were willing +to receive you, would you then leave this cruel Montraville, and return +to them?” + +“Would I!” said Charlotte, clasping her hands; “would not the poor +sailor, tost on a tempestuous ocean, threatened every moment with +death, gladly return to the shore he had left to trust to its deceitful +calmness? Oh, my dear Madam, I would return, though to do it I were +obliged to walk barefoot over a burning desert, and beg a scanty +pittance of each traveller to support my existence. I would endure it +all cheerfully, could I but once more see my dear, blessed mother, hear +her pronounce my pardon, and bless me before I died; but alas! I shall +never see her more; she has blotted the ungrateful Charlotte from her +remembrance, and I shall sink to the grave loaded with her's and my +father's curse.” + +Mrs. Beauchamp endeavoured to sooth her. “You shall write to them +again,” said she, “and I will see that the letter is sent by the first +packet that sails for England; in the mean time keep up your spirits, +and hope every thing, by daring to deserve it.” + +She then turned the conversation, and Charlotte having taken a cup of +tea, wished her benevolent friend a good evening. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SORROWS OF THE HEART. + +WHEN Charlotte got home she endeavoured to collect her thoughts, and +took up a pen in order to address those dear parents, whom, spite of her +errors, she still loved with the utmost tenderness, but vain was every +effort to write with the least coherence; her tears fell so fast +they almost blinded her; and as she proceeded to describe her unhappy +situation, she became so agitated that she was obliged to give over the +attempt and retire to bed, where, overcome with the fatigue her mind had +undergone, she fell into a slumber which greatly refreshed her, and she +arose in the morning with spirits more adequate to the painful task she +had to perform, and, after several attempts, at length concluded the +following letter to her mother-- + +TO MRS. TEMPLE. NEW-YORK. + +“Will my once kind, my ever beloved mother, deign to receive a letter +from her guilty, but repentant child? or has she, justly incensed at my +ingratitude, driven the unhappy Charlotte from her remembrance? Alas! +thou much injured mother! shouldst thou even disown me, I dare not +complain, because I know I have deserved it: but yet, believe me, guilty +as I am, and cruelly as I have disappointed the hopes of the fondest +parents, that ever girl had, even in the moment when, forgetful of my +duty, I fled from you and happiness, even then I loved you most, and my +heart bled at the thought of what you would suffer. Oh! never, never! +whilst I have existence, will the agony of that moment be erased from my +memory. It seemed like the separation of soul and body. What can I plead +in excuse for my conduct? alas! nothing! That I loved my seducer is +but too true! yet powerful as that passion is when operating in a +young heart glowing with sensibility, it never would have conquered my +affection to you, my beloved parents, had I not been encouraged, nay, +urged to take the fatally imprudent step, by one of my own sex, who, +under the mask of friendship, drew me on to ruin. Yet think not your +Charlotte was so lost as to voluntarily rush into a life of infamy; no, +my dear mother, deceived by the specious appearance of my betrayer, and +every suspicion lulled asleep by the most solemn promises of marriage, +I thought not those promises would so easily be forgotten. I never once +reflected that the man who could stoop to seduction, would not hesitate +to forsake the wretched object of his passion, whenever his capricious +heart grew weary of her tenderness. When we arrived at this place, I +vainly expected him to fulfil his engagements, but was at last fatally +convinced he had never intended to make me his wife, or if he had once +thought of it, his mind was now altered. I scorned to claim from his +humanity what I could not obtain from his love: I was conscious of +having forfeited the only gem that could render me respectable in the +eye of the world. I locked my sorrows in my own bosom, and bore my +injuries in silence. But how shall I proceed? This man, this cruel +Montraville, for whom I sacrificed honour, happiness, and the love of my +friends, no longer looks on me with affection, but scorns the credulous +girl whom his art has made miserable. Could you see me, my dear parents, +without society, without friends, stung with remorse, and (I feel the +burning blush of shame die my cheeks while I write it) tortured with the +pangs of disappointed love; cut to the soul by the indifference of him, +who, having deprived me of every other comfort, no longer thinks it +worth his while to sooth the heart where he has planted the thorn of +never-ceasing regret. My daily employment is to think of you and weep, +to pray for your happiness and deplore my own folly: my nights are +scarce more happy, for if by chance I close my weary eyes, and hope +some small forgetfulness of sorrow, some little time to pass in sweet +oblivion, fancy, still waking, wafts me home to you: I see your beloved +forms, I kneel and hear the blessed words of peace and pardon. Extatic +joy pervades my soul; I reach my arms to catch your dear embraces; the +motion chases the illusive dream; I wake to real misery. At other times +I see my father angry and frowning, point to horrid caves, where, on the +cold damp ground, in the agonies of death, I see my dear mother and my +revered grand-father. I strive to raise you; you push me from you, and +shrieking cry--'Charlotte, thou hast murdered me!' Horror and despair +tear every tortured nerve; I start, and leave my restless bed, weary and +unrefreshed. + +“Shocking as these reflexions are, I have yet one more dreadful than the +rest. Mother, my dear mother! do not let me quite break your heart when +I tell you, in a few months I shall bring into the world an innocent +witness of my guilt. Oh my bleeding heart, I shall bring a poor little +helpless creature, heir to infamy and shame. + +“This alone has urged me once more to address you, to interest you in +behalf of this poor unborn, and beg you to extend your protection to the +child of your lost Charlotte; for my own part I have wrote so often, so +frequently have pleaded for forgiveness, and entreated to be received +once more beneath the paternal roof, that having received no answer, not +even one line, I much fear you have cast me from you for ever. + +“But sure you cannot refuse to protect my innocent infant: it partakes +not of its mother's guilt. Oh my father, oh beloved mother, now do I +feel the anguish I inflicted on your hearts recoiling with double force +upon my own. + +“If my child should be a girl (which heaven forbid) tell her the unhappy +fate of her mother, and teach her to avoid my errors; if a boy, teach +him to lament my miseries, but tell him not who inflicted them, lest in +wishing to revenge his mother's injuries, he should wound the peace of +his father. + +“And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardians of my infancy, +farewell. I feel I never more must hope to see you; the anguish of my +heart strikes at the strings of life, and in a short time I shall be +at rest. Oh could I but receive your blessing and forgiveness before I +died, it would smooth my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed +foretaste of a happy eternity. I beseech you, curse me not, my adored +parents, but let a tear of pity and pardon fall to the memory of your +lost + +“CHARLOTTE.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A MAN MAY SMILE, AND SMILE, AND BE A VILLAIN. + +WHILE Charlotte was enjoying some small degree of comfort in the +consoling friendship of Mrs. Beauchamp, Montraville was advancing +rapidly in his affection towards Miss Franklin. Julia was an amiable +girl; she saw only the fair side of his character; she possessed an +independent fortune, and resolved to be happy with the man of her heart, +though his rank and fortune were by no means so exalted as she had a +right to expect; she saw the passion which Montraville struggled to +conceal; she wondered at his timidity, but imagined the distance fortune +had placed between them occasioned his backwardness, and made every +advance which strict prudence and a becoming modesty would permit. +Montraville saw with pleasure he was not indifferent to her, but a +spark of honour which animated his bosom would not suffer him to take +advantage of her partiality. He was well acquainted with Charlotte's +situation, and he thought there would be a double cruelty in forsaking +her at such a time; and to marry Miss Franklin, while honour, humanity, +every sacred law, obliged him still to protect and support Charlotte, +was a baseness which his soul shuddered at. + +He communicated his uneasiness to Belcour: it was the very thing this +pretended friend had wished. “And do you really,” said he, laughing, +“hesitate at marrying the lovely Julia, and becoming master of her +fortune, because a little foolish, fond girl chose to leave her friends, +and run away with you to America. Dear Montraville, act more like a +man of sense; this whining, pining Charlotte, who occasions you so much +uneasiness, would have eloped with somebody else if she had not with +you.” + +“Would to heaven,” said Montraville, “I had never seen her; my regard +for her was but the momentary passion of desire, but I feel I shall love +and revere Julia Franklin as long as I live; yet to leave poor Charlotte +in her present situation would be cruel beyond description.” + +“Oh my good sentimental friend,” said Belcour, “do you imagine no body +has a right to provide for the brat but yourself.” + +Montraville started. “Sure,” said he, “you cannot mean to insinuate that +Charlotte is false.” + +“I don't insinuate it,” said Belcour, “I know it.” + +Montraville turned pale as ashes. “Then there is no faith in woman,” + said he. + +“While I thought you attached to her,” said Belcour with an air of +indifference, “I never wished to make you uneasy by mentioning her +perfidy, but as I know you love and are beloved by Miss Franklin, I was +determined not to let these foolish scruples of honour step between you +and happiness, or your tenderness for the peace of a perfidious girl +prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honour.” + +“Good heavens!” said Montraville, “what poignant reflections does a man +endure who sees a lovely woman plunged in infamy, and is conscious he +was her first seducer; but are you certain of what you say, Belcour?” + +“So far,” replied he, “that I myself have received advances from her +which I would not take advantage of out of regard to you: but hang it, +think no more about her. I dined at Franklin's to-day, and Julia bid +me seek and bring you to tea: so come along, my lad, make good use of +opportunity, and seize the gifts of fortune while they are within your +reach.” Montraville was too much agitated to pass a happy evening even +in the company of Julia Franklin: he determined to visit Charlotte early +the next morning, tax her with her falsehood, and take an everlasting +leave of her; but when the morning came, he was commanded on duty, and +for six weeks was prevented from putting his design in execution. +At length he found an hour to spare, and walked out to spend it with +Charlotte: it was near four o'clock in the afternoon when he arrived at +her cottage; she was not in the parlour, and without calling the servant +he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in her bed room. He opened the +door, and the first object that met his eyes was Charlotte asleep on the +bed, and Belcour by her side. + +“Death and distraction,” said he, stamping, “this is too much. Rise, +villain, and defend yourself.” Belcour sprang from the bed. The noise +awoke Charlotte; terrified at the furious appearance of Montraville, and +seeing Belcour with him in the chamber, she caught hold of his arm as he +stood by the bed-side, and eagerly asked what was the matter. + +“Treacherous, infamous girl,” said he, “can you ask? How came he here?” + pointing to Belcour. + +“As heaven is my witness,” replied she weeping, “I do not know. I have +not seen him for these three weeks.” + +“Then you confess he sometimes visits you?” + +“He came sometimes by your desire.” + +“'Tis false; I never desired him to come, and you know I did not: but +mark me, Charlotte, from this instant our connexion is at an end. Let +Belcour, or any other of your favoured lovers, take you and provide for +you; I have done with you for ever.” + +He was then going to leave her; but starting wildly from the bed, she +threw herself on her knees before him, protesting her innocence and +entreating him not to leave her. “Oh Montraville,” said she, “kill me, +for pity's sake kill me, but do not doubt my fidelity. Do not leave me +in this horrid situation; for the sake of your unborn child, oh! spurn +not the wretched mother from you.” + +“Charlotte,” said he, with a firm voice, “I shall take care that neither +you nor your child want any thing in the approaching painful hour; but +we meet no more.” He then endeavoured to raise her from the ground; +but in vain; she clung about his knees, entreating him to believe her +innocent, and conjuring Belcour to clear up the dreadful mystery. + +Belcour cast on Montraville a smile of contempt: it irritated him almost +to madness; he broke from the feeble arms of the distressed girl; she +shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor. + +Montraville instantly left the house and returned hastily to the city. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MYSTERY DEVELOPED. + +UNFORTUNATELY for Charlotte, about three weeks before this unhappy +rencontre, Captain Beauchamp, being ordered to Rhode-Island, his lady +had accompanied him, so that Charlotte was deprived of her friendly +advice and consoling society. The afternoon on which Montraville had +visited her she had found herself languid and fatigued, and after making +a very slight dinner had lain down to endeavour to recruit her exhausted +spirits, and, contrary to her expectations, had fallen asleep. She +had not long been lain down, when Belcour arrived, for he took every +opportunity of visiting her, and striving to awaken her resentment +against Montraville. He enquired of the servant where her mistress was, +and being told she was asleep, took up a book to amuse himself: having +sat a few minutes, he by chance cast his eyes towards the road, and saw +Montraville approaching; he instantly conceived the diabolical scheme +of ruining the unhappy Charlotte in his opinion for ever; he therefore +stole softly up stairs, and laying himself by her side with the greatest +precaution, for fear she should awake, was in that situation discovered +by his credulous friend. + +When Montraville spurned the weeping Charlotte from him, and left her +almost distracted with terror and despair, Belcour raised her from +the floor, and leading her down stairs, assumed the part of a tender, +consoling friend; she listened to the arguments he advanced with +apparent composure; but this was only the calm of a moment: the +remembrance of Montraville's recent cruelty again rushed upon her mind: +she pushed him from her with some violence, and crying--“Leave me, Sir, +I beseech you leave me, for much I fear you have been the cause of my +fidelity being suspected; go, leave me to the accumulated miseries my +own imprudence has brought upon me.” + +She then left him with precipitation, and retiring to her own apartment, +threw herself on the bed, and gave vent to an agony of grief which it is +impossible to describe. + +It now occurred to Belcour that she might possibly write to Montraville, +and endeavour to convince him of her innocence: he was well aware of her +pathetic remonstrances, and, sensible of the tenderness of Montraville's +heart, resolved to prevent any letters ever reaching him: he therefore +called the servant, and, by the powerful persuasion of a bribe, +prevailed with her to promise whatever letters her mistress might write +should be sent to him. He then left a polite, tender note for Charlotte, +and returned to New-York. His first business was to seek Montraville, +and endeavour to convince him that what had happened would ultimately +tend to his happiness: he found him in his apartment, solitary, pensive, +and wrapped in disagreeable reflexions. + +“Why how now, whining, pining lover?” said he, clapping him on the +shoulder. Montraville started; a momentary flush of resentment crossed +his cheek, but instantly gave place to a death-like paleness, occasioned +by painful remembrance remembrance awakened by that monitor, whom, +though we may in vain endeavour, we can never entirely silence. + +“Belcour,” said he, “you have injured me in a tender point.” “Prithee, +Jack,” replied Belcour, “do not make a serious matter of it: how could I +refuse the girl's advances? and thank heaven she is not your wife.” + +“True,” said Montraville; “but she was innocent when I first knew her. +It was I seduced her, Belcour. Had it not been for me, she had still +been virtuous and happy in the affection and protection of her family.” + +“Pshaw,” replied Belcour, laughing, “if you had not taken advantage of +her easy nature, some other would, and where is the difference, pray?” + +“I wish I had never seen her,” cried he passionately, and starting from +his seat. “Oh that cursed French woman,” added he with vehemence, “had +it not been for her, I might have been happy--” He paused. + +“With Julia Franklin,” said Belcour. The name, like a sudden spark +of electric fire, seemed for a moment to suspend his faculties--for a +moment he was transfixed; but recovering, he caught Belcour's hand, and +cried--“Stop! stop! I beseech you, name not the lovely Julia and +the wretched Montraville in the same breath. I am a seducer, a mean, +ungenerous seducer of unsuspecting innocence. I dare not hope that +purity like her's would stoop to unite itself with black, premeditated +guilt: yet by heavens I swear, Belcour, I thought I loved the lost, +abandoned Charlotte till I saw Julia--I thought I never could forsake +her; but the heart is deceitful, and I now can plainly discriminate +between the impulse of a youthful passion, and the pure flame of +disinterested affection.” + +At that instant Julia Franklin passed the window, leaning on her uncle's +arm. She curtseyed as she passed, and, with the bewitching smile of +modest cheerfulness, cried--“Do you bury yourselves in the house this +fine evening, gents?” There was something in the voice! the manner! the +look! that was altogether irresistible. “Perhaps she wishes my company,” + said Montraville mentally, as he snatched up his hat: “if I thought she +loved me, I would confess my errors, and trust to her generosity to pity +and pardon me.” He soon overtook her, and offering her his arm, they +sauntered to pleasant but unfrequented walks. Belcour drew Mr. Franklin +on one side and entered into a political discourse: they walked faster +than the young people, and Belcour by some means contrived entirely to +lose sight of them. It was a fine evening in the beginning of autumn; +the last remains of day-light faintly streaked the western sky, while +the moon, with pale and virgin lustre in the room of gorgeous gold and +purple, ornamented the canopy of heaven with silver, fleecy clouds, +which now and then half hid her lovely face, and, by partly concealing, +heightened every beauty; the zephyrs whispered softly through the trees, +which now began to shed their leafy honours; a solemn silence reigned: +and to a happy mind an evening such as this would give serenity, and +calm, unruffled pleasure; but to Montraville, while it soothed +the turbulence of his passions, it brought increase of melancholy +reflections. Julia was leaning on his arm: he took her hand in his, and +pressing it tenderly, sighed deeply, but continued silent. Julia was +embarrassed; she wished to break a silence so unaccountable, but was +unable; she loved Montraville, she saw he was unhappy, and wished to +know the cause of his uneasiness, but that innate modesty, which nature +has implanted in the female breast, prevented her enquiring. “I am bad +company, Miss Franklin,” said he, at last recollecting himself; “but +I have met with something to-day that has greatly distressed me, and I +cannot shake off the disagreeable impression it has made on my mind.” + +“I am sorry,” she replied, “that you have any cause of inquietude. I am +sure if you were as happy as you deserve, and as all your friends wish +you--” She hesitated. “And might I,” replied he with some animation, +“presume to rank the amiable Julia in that number?” + +“Certainly,” said she, “the service you have rendered me, the knowledge +of your worth, all combine to make me esteem you.” + +“Esteem, my lovely Julia,” said he passionately, “is but a poor cold +word. I would if I dared, if I thought I merited your attention--but +no, I must not--honour forbids. I am beneath your notice, Julia, I am +miserable and cannot hope to be otherwise.” “Alas!” said Julia, “I pity +you.” + +“Oh thou condescending charmer,” said he, “how that sweet word cheers my +sad heart. Indeed if you knew all, you would pity; but at the same time +I fear you would despise me.” + +Just then they were again joined by Mr. Franklin and Belcour. It had +interrupted an interesting discourse. They found it impossible to +converse on indifferent subjects, and proceeded home in silence. At +Mr. Franklin's door Montraville again pressed Julia's hand, and faintly +articulating “good night,” retired to his lodgings dispirited and +wretched, from a consciousness that he deserved not the affection, with +which he plainly saw he was honoured. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +RECEPTION OF A LETTER. + +“AND where now is our poor Charlotte?” said Mr. Temple one evening, as +the cold blasts of autumn whistled rudely over the heath, and the yellow +appearance of the distant wood, spoke the near approach of winter. In +vain the cheerful fire blazed on the hearth, in vain was he surrounded +by all the comforts of life; the parent was still alive in his heart, +and when he thought that perhaps his once darling child was ere this +exposed to all the miseries of want in a distant land, without a friend +to sooth and comfort her, without the benignant look of compassion to +cheer, or the angelic voice of pity to pour the balm of consolation on +her wounded heart; when he thought of this, his whole soul dissolved in +tenderness; and while he wiped the tear of anguish from the eye of his +patient, uncomplaining Lucy, he struggled to suppress the sympathizing +drop that started in his own. + +“Oh, my poor girl,” said Mrs. Temple, “how must she be altered, else +surely she would have relieved our agonizing minds by one line to +say she lived--to say she had not quite forgot the parents who almost +idolized her.” + +“Gracious heaven,” said Mr. Temple, starting from his seat, “I, who would +wish to be a father, to experience the agonizing pangs inflicted on a +parent's heart by the ingratitude of a child?” Mrs. Temple wept: her +father took her hand; he would have said, “be comforted my child,” + but the words died on his tongue. The sad silence that ensued was +interrupted by a loud rap at the door. In a moment a servant entered +with a letter in his hand. + +Mrs. Temple took it from him: she cast her eyes upon the superscription; +she knew the writing. “'Tis Charlotte,” said she, eagerly breaking +the seal, “she has not quite forgot us.” But before she had half gone +through the contents, a sudden sickness seized her; she grew cold and +giddy, and puffing it into her husband's hand, she cried--“Read it: I +cannot.” Mr. Temple attempted to read it aloud, but frequently paused +to give vent to his tears. “My poor deluded child,” said he, when he had +finished. + +“Oh, shall we not forgive the dear penitent?” said Mrs. Temple. “We +must, we will, my love; she is willing to return, and 'tis our duty to +receive her.” + +“Father of mercy,” said Mr. Eldridge, raising his clasped hands, “let +me but live once more to see the dear wanderer restored to her afflicted +parents, and take me from this world of sorrow whenever it seemeth best +to thy wisdom.” + +“Yes, we will receive her,” said Mr. Temple; “we will endeavour to heal +her wounded spirit, and speak peace and comfort to her agitated soul. I +will write to her to return immediately.' + +“Oh!” said Mrs. Temple, “I would if possible fly to her, support and +cheer the dear sufferer in the approaching hour of distress, and tell +her how nearly penitence is allied to virtue. Cannot we go and conduct +her home, my love?” continued she, laying her hand on his arm. “My +father will surely forgive our absence if we go to bring home his +darling.” + +“You cannot go, my Lucy,” said Mr. Temple: “the delicacy of your frame +would but poorly sustain the fatigue of a long voyage; but I will go and +bring the gentle penitent to your arms: we may still see many years of +happiness.” + +The struggle in the bosom of Mrs. Temple between maternal and conjugal +tenderness was long and painful. At length the former triumphed, and she +consented that her husband should set forward to New-York by the first +opportunity: she wrote to her Charlotte in the tenderest, most consoling +manner, and looked forward to the happy hour, when she should again +embrace her, with the most animated hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +WHAT MIGHT BE EXPECTED. + +IN the mean time the passion Montraville had conceived for Julia +Franklin daily encreased, and he saw evidently how much he was beloved +by that amiable girl: he was likewise strongly prepossessed with an idea +of Charlotte's perfidy. What wonder then if he gave himself up to the +delightful sensation which pervaded his bosom; and finding no obstacle +arise to oppose his happiness, he solicited and obtained the hand of +Julia. A few days before his marriage he thus addressed Belcour: + +“Though Charlotte, by her abandoned conduct, has thrown herself from my +protection, I still hold myself bound to support her till relieved +from her present condition, and also to provide for the child. I do not +intend to see her again, but I will place a sum of money in your hands, +which will amply supply her with every convenience; but should she +require more, let her have it, and I will see it repaid. I wish I could +prevail on the poor deluded girl to return to her friends: she was an +only child, and I make no doubt but that they would joyfully receive +her; it would shock me greatly to see her henceforth leading a life of +infamy, as I should always accuse myself of being the primary cause of +all her errors. If she should chuse to remain under your protection, be +kind to her, Belcour, I conjure you. Let not satiety prompt you to treat +her in such a manner, as may drive her to actions which necessity might +urge her to, while her better reason disapproved them: she shall never +want a friend while I live, but I never more desire to behold her; her +presence would be always painful to me, and a glance from her eye would +call the blush of conscious guilt into my cheek. + +“I will write a letter to her, which you may deliver when I am gone, as +I shall go to St. Eustatia the day after my union with Julia, who will +accompany me.” + +Belcour promised to fulfil the request of his friend, though nothing +was farther from his intentions, than the least design of delivering the +letter, or making Charlotte acquainted with the provision Montraville +had made for her; he was bent on the complete ruin of the unhappy girl, +and supposed, by reducing her to an entire dependance on him, to bring +her by degrees to consent to gratify his ungenerous passion. + +The evening before the day appointed for the nuptials of Montraville and +Julia, the former refired early to his apartment; and ruminating on the +past scenes of his life, suffered the keenest remorse in the remembrance +of Charlotte's seduction. “Poor girl,” said he, “I will at least write +and bid her adieu; I will too endeavour to awaken that love of virtue in +her bosom which her unfortunate attachment to me has extinguished.” He +took up the pen and began to write, but words were denied him. How could +he address the woman whom he had seduced, and whom, though he thought +unworthy his tenderness, he was about to bid adieu for ever? How should +he tell her that he was going to abjure her, to enter into the most +indissoluble ties with another, and that he could not even own the +infant which she bore as his child? Several letters were begun and +destroyed: at length he completed the following: + +TO CHARLOTTE. + +“Though I have taken up my pen to address you, my poor injured girl, I +feel I am inadequate to the task; yet, however painful the endeavour, I +could not resolve upon leaving you for ever without one kind line to bid +you adieu, to tell you how my heart bleeds at the remembrance of what +you was, before you saw the hated Montraville. Even now imagination +paints the scene, when, torn by contending passions, when, struggling +between love and duty, you fainted in my arms, and I lifted you into +the chaise: I see the agony of your mind, when, recovering, you found +yourself on the road to Portsmouth: but how, my gentle girl, how could +you, when so justly impressed with the value of virtue, how could you, +when loving as I thought you loved me, yield to the solicitations of +Belcour? + +“Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, villain that I am, who +first taught you the allurements of guilty pleasure; it was I who +dragged you from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy; +and can I, dare I tell you, it was not love prompted to the horrid deed? +No, thou dear, fallen angel, believe your repentant Montraville, when +he tells you the man who truly loves will never betray the object of his +affection. Adieu, Charlotte: could you still find charms in a life of +unoffend-ing innocence, return to your parents; you shall never want the +means of support both for yourself and child. Oh! gracious heaven! +may that child be entirely free from the vices of its father and the +weakness of its mother. + +“To-morrow--but no, I cannot tell you what to-morrow will produce; +Belcour will inform you: he also has cash for you, which I beg you will +ask for whenever you may want it. Once more adieu: believe me could I +hear you was returned to your friends, and enjoying that tranquillity of +which I have robbed you, I should be as completely happy as even you, +in your fondest hours, could wish me, but till then a gloom will obscure +the brightest prospects of MONTRAVILLE.” + +After he had sealed this letter he threw himself on the bed, and enjoyed +a few hours repose. Early in the morning Belcour tapped at his door: he +arose hastily, and prepared to meet his Julia at the altar. + +“This is the letter to Charlotte,” said he, giving it to Belcour: “take +it to her when we are gone to Eustatia; and I conjure you, my dear +friend, not to use any sophistical arguments to prevent her return to +virtue; but should she incline that way, encourage her in the thought, +and assist her to put her design in execution.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, + Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + +CHARLOTTE had now been left almost three months a prey to her own +melancholy reflexions--sad companions indeed; nor did any one break in +upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called to enquire after +her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavoured to bring Montraville +to hear reason; and once, but only once, was her mind cheered by the +receipt of an affectionate letter from Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had she +wrote to her perfidious seducer, and with the most persuasive eloquence +endeavoured to convince him of her innocence; but these letters were +never suffered to reach the hands of Montraville, or they must, though +on the very eve of marriage, have prevented his deserting the wretched +girl. Real anguish of heart had in a great measure faded her charms, her +cheeks were pale from want of rest, and her eyes, by frequent, indeed +almost continued weeping, were sunk and heavy. Sometimes a gleam of hope +would play about her heart when she thought of her parents--“They cannot +surely,” she would say, “refuse to forgive me; or should they deny their +pardon to me, they win not hate my innocent infant on account of its +mother's errors.” How often did the poor mourner wish for the consoling +presence of the benevolent Mrs. Beauchamp. + +“If she were here,” she would cry, “she would certainly comfort me, and +sooth the distraction of my soul.” + +She was sitting one afternoon, wrapped in these melancholy reflexions, +when she was interrupted by the entrance of Belcour. Great as the +alteration was which incessant sorrow had made on her person, she was +still interesting, still charming; and the unhallowed flame, which had +urged Belcour to plant dissension between her and Montraville, still +raged in his bosom: he was determined, if possible, to make her his +mistress; nay, he had even conceived the diabolical scheme of taking her +to New-York, and making her appear in every public place where it was +likely she should meet Montraville, that he might be a witness to his +unmanly triumph. + +When he entered the room where Charlotte was sitting, he assumed +the look of tender, consolatory friendship. “And how does my lovely +Charlotte?” said he, taking her hand: “I fear you are not so well as I +could wish.” + +“I am not well, Mr. Belcour,” said she, “very far from it; but the pains +and infirmities of the body I could easily bear, nay, submit to them +with patience, were they not aggravated by the most insupportable +anguish of my mind.” + +“You are not happy, Charlotte,” said he, with a look of well-dissembled +sorrow. + +“Alas!” replied she mournfully, shaking her head, “how can I be happy, +deserted and forsaken as I am, without a friend of my own sex to whom I +can unburthen my full heart, nay, my fidelity suspected by the very man +for whom I have sacrificed every thing valuable in life, for whom I have +made myself a poor despised creature, an outcast from society, an object +only of contempt and pity.” + +“You think too meanly of yourself, Miss Temple: there is no one who +would dare to treat you with contempt: all who have the pleasure of +knowing you must admire and esteem. You are lonely here, my dear girl; +give me leave to conduct you to New-York, where the agreeable society +of some ladies, to whom I will introduce you, will dispel these sad +thoughts, and I shall again see returning cheerfulness animate those +lovely features.” + +“Oh never! never!” cried Charlotte, emphatically: “the virtuous part +of my sex will scorn me, and I will never associate with infamy. No, +Belcour, here let me hide my shame and sorrow, here let me spend my +few remaining days in obscurity, unknown and unpitied, here let me die +unlamented, and my name sink to oblivion.” Here her tears stopped her +utterance. Belcour was awed to silence: he dared not interrupt her; and +after a moment's pause she proceeded--“I once had conceived the +thought of going to New-York to seek out the still dear, though cruel, +ungenerous Montraville, to throw myself at his feet, and entreat his +compassion; heaven knows, not for myself; if I am no longer beloved, +I will not be indebted to his pity to redress my injuries, but I would +have knelt and entreated him not to forsake my poor unborn--” She could +say no more; a crimson glow rushed over her cheeks, and covering her +face with her hands, she sobbed aloud. + +Something like humanity was awakened in Belcour's breast by this +pathetic speech: he arose and walked towards the window; but the selfish +passion which had taken possession of his heart, soon stifled these +finer emotions; and he thought if Charlotte was once convinced she had +no longer any dependance on Montraville, she would more readily throw +herself on his protection. Determined, therefore, to inform her of all +that had happened, he again resumed his seat; and finding she began to +be more composed, enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since +the unfortunate recontre in her bed chamber. + +“Ah no,” said she. “I fear I shall never hear from him again.” + +“I am greatly of your opinion,” said Belcour, “for he has been for some +time past greatly attached--” + +At the word “attached” a death-like paleness overspread the countenance +of Charlotte, but she applied to some hartshorn which stood beside her, +and Belcour proceeded. + +“He has been for some time past greatly attached to one Miss Franklin, a +pleasing lively girl, with a large fortune.” + +“She may be richer, may be handsomer,” cried Charlotte, “but cannot love +him so well. Oh may she beware of his art, and not trust him too far as +I have done.” + +“He addresses her publicly,” said he, “and it was rumoured they were +to be married before he sailed for Eustatia, whither his company is +ordered.” + +“Belcour,” said Charlotte, seizing his hand, and gazing at him +earnestly, while her pale lips trembled with convulsive agony, “tell me, +and tell me truly, I beseech you, do you think he can be such a villain +as to marry another woman, and leave me to die with want and misery in +a strange land: tell me what you think; I can bear it very well; I +will not shrink from this heaviest stroke of fate; I have deserved my +afflictions, and I will endeavour to bear them as I ought.” + +“I fear,” said Belcour, “he can be that villain.” + +“Perhaps,” cried she, eagerly interrupting him, “perhaps he is married +already: come, let me know the worst,” continued she with an affected +look of composure: “you need not be afraid, I shall not send the +fortunate lady a bowl of poison.” + +“Well then, my dear girl,” said he, deceived by her appearance, +“they were married on Thursday, and yesterday morning they sailed for +Eustatia.” + +“Married--gone--say you?” cried she in a distracted accent, “what +without a last farewell, without one thought on my unhappy situation! +Oh Montraville, may God forgive your perfidy.” She shrieked, and Belcour +sprang forward just in time to prevent her falling to the floor. + +Alarming faintings now succeeded each other, and she was conveyed to +her bed, from whence she earnestly prayed she might never more arise. +Belcour staid with her that night, and in the morning found her in a +high fever. The fits she had been seized with had greatly terrified him; +and confined as she now was to a bed of sickness, she was no longer an +object of desire: it is true for several days he went constantly to see +her, but her pale, emaciated appearance disgusted him: his visits became +less frequent; he forgot the solemn charge given him by Montraville; he +even forgot the money entrusted to his care; and, the burning blush of +indignation and shame tinges my cheek while I write it, this disgrace to +humanity and manhood at length forgot even the injured Charlotte; and, +attracted by the blooming health of a farmer's daughter, whom he had +seen in his frequent excursions to the country, he left the unhappy girl +to sink unnoticed to the grave, a prey to sickness, grief, and penury; +while he, having triumphed over the virtue of the artless cottager, +rioted in all the intemperance of luxury and lawless pleasure. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +A TRIFLING RETROSPECT. + +“BLESS my heart,” cries my young, volatile reader, “I shall never have +patience to get through these volumes, there are so many ahs! and +ohs! so much fainting, tears, and distress, I am sick to death of the +subject.” My dear, cheerful, innocent girl, for innocent I will +suppose you to be, or you would acutely feel the woes of Charlotte, +did conscience say, thus might it have been with me, had not Providence +interposed to snatch me from destruction: therefore, my lively, innocent +girl, I must request your patience: I am writing a tale of truth: I +mean to write it to the heart: but if perchance the heart is rendered +impenetrable by unbounded prosperity, or a continuance in vice, I expect +not my tale to please, nay, I even expect it will be thrown by with +disgust. But softly, gentle fair one; I pray you throw it not aside till +you have perused the whole; mayhap you may find something therein to +repay you for the trouble. Methinks I see a sarcastic smile sit on your +countenance.--“And what,” cry you, “does the conceited author suppose +we can glean from these pages, if Charlotte is held up as an object of +terror, to prevent us from falling into guilty errors? does not La Rue +triumph in her shame, and by adding art to guilt, obtain the affection +of a worthy man, and rise to a station where she is beheld with respect, +and cheerfully received into all companies. What then is the moral +you would inculcate? Would you wish us to think that a deviation +from virtue, if covered by art and hypocrisy, is not an object of +detestation, but on the contrary shall raise us to fame and honour? +while the hapless girl who falls a victim to her too great sensibility, +shall be loaded with ignominy and shame?” No, my fair querist, I mean no +such thing. Remember the endeavours of the wicked are often suffered to +prosper, that in the end their fall may be attended with more bitterness +of heart; while the cup of affliction is poured out for wise and +salutary ends, and they who are compelled to drain it even to the bitter +dregs, often find comfort at the bottom; the tear of penitence blots +their offences from the book of fate, and they rise from the heavy, +painful trial, purified and fit for a mansion in the kingdom of +eternity. + +Yes, my young friends, the tear of compassion shall fall for the fate of +Charlotte, while the name of La Rue shall be detested and despised. For +Charlotte, the soul melts with sympathy; for La Rue, it feels nothing +but horror and contempt. But perhaps your gay hearts would rather +follow the fortunate Mrs. Crayton through the scenes of pleasure and +dissipation in which she was engaged, than listen to the complaints +and miseries of Charlotte. I will for once oblige you; I will for once +follow her to midnight revels, balls, and scenes of gaiety, for in such +was she constantly engaged. + +I have said her person was lovely; let us add that she was surrounded by +splendor and affluence, and he must know but little of the world who can +wonder, (however faulty such a woman's conduct,) at her being followed +by the men, and her company courted by the women: in short Mrs. Crayton +was the universal favourite: she set the fashions, she was toasted by +all the gentlemen, and copied by all the ladies. + +Colonel Crayton was a domestic man. Could he be happy with such a woman? +impossible! Remonstrance was vain: he might as well have preached to the +winds, as endeavour to persuade her from any action, however ridiculous, +on which she had set her mind: in short, after a little ineffectual +struggle, he gave up the attempt, and left her to follow the bent of +her own inclinations: what those were, I think the reader must have seen +enough of her character to form a just idea. Among the number who paid +their devotions at her shrine, she singled one, a young Ensign of mean +birth, indifferent education, and weak intellects. How such a man came +into the army, we hardly know to account for, and how he afterwards rose +to posts of honour is likewise strange and wonderful. But fortune is +blind, and so are those too frequently who have the power of dispensing +her favours: else why do we see fools and knaves at the very top of the +wheel, while patient merit sinks to the extreme of the opposite abyss. +But we may form a thousand conjectures on this subject, and yet never +hit on the right. Let us therefore endeavour to deserve her smiles, and +whether we succeed or not, we shall feel more innate satisfaction, than +thousands of those who bask in the sunshine of her favour unworthily. +But to return to Mrs. Crayton: this young man, whom I shall distinguish +by the name of Corydon, was the reigning favourite of her heart. He +escorted her to the play, danced with her at every ball, and when +indisposition prevented her going out, it was he alone who was permitted +to cheer the gloomy solitude to which she was obliged to confine +herself. Did she ever think of poor Charlotte?--if she did, my dear +Miss, it was only to laugh at the poor girl's want of spirit in +consenting to be moped up in the country, while Montraville was enjoying +all the pleasures of a gay, dissipated city. When she heard of his +marriage, she smiling said, so there's an end of Madam Charlotte's +hopes. I wonder who will take her now, or what will become of the little +affected prude? + +But as you have lead to the subject, I think we may as well return to +the distressed Charlotte, and not, like the unfeeling Mrs. Crayton, shut +our hearts to the call of humanity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +WE GO FORWARD AGAIN. + +THE strength of Charlotte's constitution combatted against her disorder, +and she began slowly to recover, though she still laboured under a +violent depression of spirits: how must that depression be encreased, +when, upon examining her little store, she found herself reduced to +one solitary guinea, and that during her illness the attendance of an +apothecary and nurse, together with many other unavoidable expences, +had involved her in debt, from which she saw no method of extricating +herself. As to the faint hope which she had entertained of hearing from +and being relieved by her parents; it now entirely forsook her, for +it was above four months since her letter was dispatched, and she had +received no answer: she therefore imagined that her conduct had either +entirely alienated their affection from her, or broken their hearts, and +she must never more hope to receive their blessing. + +Never did any human being wish for death with greater fervency or +with juster cause; yet she had too just a sense of the duties of the +Christian religion to attempt to put a period to her own existence. “I +have but to be patient a little longer,” she would cry, “and nature, +fatigued and fainting, will throw off this heavy load of mortality, and +I shall be released from all my sufferings.” + +It was one cold stormy day in the latter end of December, as Charlotte +sat by a handful of fire, the low state of her finances not allowing her +to replenish her stock of fuel, and prudence teaching her to be careful +of what she had, when she was surprised by the entrance of a farmer's +wife, who, without much ceremony, seated herself, and began this curious +harangue. + +“I'm come to see if as how you can pay your rent, because as how we hear +Captain Montable is gone away, and it's fifty to one if he b'ant killed +afore he comes back again; an then, Miss, or Ma'am, or whatever you may +be, as I was saying to my husband, where are we to look for our money.” + +This was a stroke altogether unexpected by Charlotte: she knew so little +of the ways of the world that she had never bestowed a thought on the +payment for the rent of the house; she knew indeed that she owed a +good deal, but this was never reckoned among the others: she was +thunder-struck; she hardly knew what answer to make, yet it was +absolutely necessary that she should say something; and judging of the +gentleness of every female disposition by her own, she thought the best +way to interest the woman in her favour would be to tell her candidly to +what a situation she was reduced, and how little probability there was +of her ever paying any body. + +Alas poor Charlotte, how confined was her knowledge of human nature, or +she would have been convinced that the only way to insure the friendship +and assistance of your surrounding acquaintance is to convince them you +do not require it, for when once the petrifying aspect of distress and +penury appear, whose qualities, like Medusa's head, can change to stone +all that look upon it; when once this Gorgon claims acquaintance with +us, the phantom of friendship, that before courted our notice, will +vanish into unsubstantial air, and the whole world before us appear a +barren waste. Pardon me, ye dear spirits of benevolence, whose benign +smiles and cheerful-giving hand have strewed sweet flowers on many a +thorny path through which my wayward fate forced me to pass; think not, +that, in condemning the unfeeling texture of the human heart, I forget +the spring from whence flow an the comforts I enjoy: oh no! I look up +to you as to bright constellations, gathering new splendours from the +surrounding darkness; but ah! whilst I adore the benignant rays that +cheered and illumined my heart, I mourn that their influence cannot +extend to all the sons and daughters of affliction. + +“Indeed, Madam,” said poor Charlotte in a tremulous accent, “I am at a +loss what to do. Montraville placed me here, and promised to defray all +my expenses: but he has forgot his promise, he has forsaken me, and I +have no friend who has either power or will to relieve me. Let me hope, +as you see my unhappy situation, your charity--” + +“Charity,” cried the woman impatiently interrupting her, “charity +indeed: why, Mistress, charity begins at home, and I have seven children +at home, HONEST, LAWFUL children, and it is my duty to keep them; and do +you think I will give away my property to a nasty, impudent hussey, to +maintain her and her bastard; an I was saying to my husband the other +day what will this world come to; honest women are nothing now-a-days, +while the harlotings are set up for fine ladies, and look upon us no +more nor the dirt they walk upon: but let me tell you, my fine spoken +Ma'am, I must have my money; so seeing as how you can't pay it, why you +must troop, and leave all your fine gimcracks and fal der ralls behind +you. I don't ask for no more nor my right, and nobody shall dare for to +go for to hinder me of it.” + +“Oh heavens,” cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, “what will become of +me?” + +“Come on ye!” retorted the unfeeling wretch: “why go to the barracks and +work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers cloaths, an cook +their victuals, and not expect to live in idleness on honest people's +means. Oh I wish I could see the day when all such cattle were obliged +to work hard and eat little; it's only what they deserve.” + +“Father of mercy,” cried Charlotte, “I acknowledge thy correction just; +but prepare me, I beseech thee, for the portion of misery thou may'st +please to lay upon me.” + +“Well,” said the woman, “I shall go an tell my husband as how you can't +pay; and so d'ye see, Ma'am, get ready to be packing away this very +night, for you should not stay another night in this house, though I was +sure you would lay in the street.” + +Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the anguish of her heart was +too great to permit her to articulate a single word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep, + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep. +WHEN Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course she +must take, or to whom she could apply, to prevent her perishing for +want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency of +the season. After many perplexed thoughts, she at last determined to +set out for New-York, and enquire out Mrs. Crayton, from whom she had no +doubt but she should obtain immediate relief as soon as her distress was +made known; she had no sooner formed this resolution than she resolved +immediately to put it in execution: she therefore wrote the following +little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thinking if she should have company with +her it would be better to send it in than to request to see her. + +TO MRS. CRAYTON. + +“MADAM, + +“When we left our native land, that dear, happy land which now contains +all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same; +we both, pardon me, Madam, if I say, we both too easily followed the +impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on a +tempestuous ocean, where mine has been wrecked and lost for ever; +you have been more fortunate--you are united to a man of honour and +humanity, united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, and +admired, and surrounded by innumerable blessings of which I am bereaved, +enjoying those pleasures which have fled my bosom never to return; alas! +sorrow and deep regret have taken their place. Behold me, Madam, a poor +forsaken wanderer, who has no where to lay her weary head, wherewith to +supply the wants of nature, or to shield her from the inclemency of the +weather. To you I sue, to you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to +be received as an intimate or an equal; only for charity's sweet sake +receive me into your hospitable mansion, allot me the meanest apartment +in it, and let me breath out my soul in prayers for your happiness; I +cannot, I feel I cannot long bear up under the accumulated woes that +pour in upon me; but oh! my dear Madam, for the love of heaven suffer me +not to expire in the street; and when I am at peace, as soon I shall be, +extend your compassion to my helpless offspring, should it please heaven +that it should survive its unhappy mother. A gleam of joy breaks in on +my benighted soul while I reflect that you cannot, will not refuse your +protection to the heart-broken. CHARLOTTE.” + +When Charlotte had finished this letter, late as it was in the +afternoon, and though the snow began to fall very fast, she tied up a +few necessaries which she had prepared against her expected confinement, +and terrified lest she should be again exposed to the insults of her +barbarous landlady, more dreadful to her wounded spirit than either +storm or darkness, she set forward for New-York. + +It may be asked by those, who, in a work of this kind, love to cavil at +every trifling omission, whether Charlotte did not possess any valuable +of which she could have disposed, and by that means have supported +herself till Mrs. Beauchamp's return, when she would have been certain +of receiving every tender attention which compassion and friendship +could dictate: but let me entreat these wise, penetrating gentlemen to +reflect, that when Charlotte left England, it was in such haste that +there was no time to purchase any thing more than what was wanted +for immediate use on the voyage, and after her arrival at New-York, +Montraville's affection soon began to decline, so that her whole +wardrobe consisted of only necessaries, and as to baubles, with which +fond lovers often load their mistresses, she possessed not one, except a +plain gold locket of small value, which contained a lock of her mother's +hair, and which the greatest extremity of want could not have forced her +to part with. + +I hope, Sir, your prejudices are now removed in regard to the +probability of my story? Oh they are. Well then, with your leave, I will +proceed. + +The distance from the house which our suffering heroine occupied, to +New-York, was not very great, yet the snow fen so fast, and the cold so +intense, that, being unable from her situation to walk quick, she found +herself almost sinking with cold and fatigue before she reached the +town; her garments, which were merely suitable to the summer season, +being an undress robe of plain white muslin, were wet through, and +a thin black cloak and bonnet, very improper habiliments for such a +climate, but poorly defended her from the cold. In this situation she +reached the city, and enquired of a foot soldier whom she met, the way +to Colonel Crayton's. + +“Bless you, my sweet lady,” said the soldier with a voice and look of +compassion, “I will shew you the way with all my heart; but if you are +going to make a petition to Madam Crayton it is all to no purpose I +assure you: if you please I will conduct you to Mr. Franklin's; though +Miss Julia is married and gone now, yet the old gentleman is very good.” + +“Julia Franklin,” said Charlotte; “is she not married to Montraville?” + +“Yes,” replied the soldier, “and may God bless them, for a better +officer never lived, he is so good to us all; and as to Miss Julia, all +the poor folk almost worshipped her.” + +“Gracious heaven,” cried Charlotte, “is Montraville unjust then to none +but me.” + +The soldier now shewed her Colonel Crayton's door, and, with a beating +heart, she knocked for admission. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +SUBJECT CONTINUED. + +WHEN the door was opened, Charlotte, in a voice rendered scarcely +articulate, through cold and the extreme agitation of her mind, demanded +whether Mrs. Crayton was at home. The servant hesitated: he knew that +his lady was engaged at a game of picquet with her dear Corydon, +nor could he think she would like to be disturbed by a person whose +appearance spoke her of so little consequence as Charlotte; yet there +was something in her countenance that rather interested him in her +favour, and he said his lady was engaged, but if she had any particular +message he would deliver it. + +“Take up this letter,” said Charlotte: “tell her the unhappy writer of +it waits in her hall for an answer.” The tremulous accent, the tearful +eye, must have moved any heart not composed of adamant. The man took the +letter from the poor suppliant, and hastily ascended the stair case. + +“A letter, Madam,” said he, presenting it to his lady: “an immediate +answer is required.” + +Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carelessly over the contents. “What stuff +is this;” cried she haughtily; “have not I told you a thousand times +that I will not be plagued with beggars, and petitions from people one +knows nothing about? Go tell the woman I can't do any thing in it. I'm +sorry, but one can't relieve every body.” + +The servant bowed, and heavily returned with this chilling message to +Charlotte. + +“Surely,” said she, “Mrs. Crayton has not read my letter. Go, my +good friend, pray go back to her; tell her it is Charlotte Temple who +requests beneath her hospitable roof to find shelter from the inclemency +of the season.” + +“Prithee, don't plague me, man,” cried Mrs. Crayton impatiently, as the +servant advanced something in behalf of the unhappy girl. “I tell you I +don't know her.” + +“Not know me,” cried Charlotte, rushing into the room, (for she had +followed the man up stairs) “not know me, not remember the ruined +Charlotte Temple, who, but for you, perhaps might still have been +innocent, still have been happy. Oh! La Rue, this is beyond every thing +I could have believed possible.” + +“Upon my honour, Miss,” replied the unfeeling woman with the utmost +effrontery, “this is a most unaccountable address: it is beyond my +comprehension. John,” continued she, turning to the servant, “the +young woman is certainly out of her senses: do pray take her away, she +terrifies me to death.” + +“Oh God,” cried Charlotte, clasping her hands in an agony, “this is too +much; what will become of me? but I will not leave you; they shall +not tear me from you; here on my knees I conjure you to save me from +perishing in the streets; if you really have forgot me, oh for charity's +sweet sake this night let me be sheltered from the winter's piercing +cold.” The kneeling figure of Charlotte in her affecting situation might +have moved the heart of a stoic to compassion; but Mrs. Crayton remained +inflexible. In vain did Charlotte recount the time they had known each +other at Chichester, in vain mention their being in the same ship, in +vain were the names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned. Mrs. Crayton +could only say she was sorry for her imprudence, but could not think of +having her own reputation endangered by encouraging a woman of that kind +in her own house, besides she did not know what trouble and expense +she might bring upon her husband by giving shelter to a woman in her +situation. + +“I can at least die here,” said Charlotte, “I feel I cannot long +survive this dreadful conflict. Father of mercy, here let me finish +my existence.” Her agonizing sensations overpowered her, and she fell +senseless on the floor. + +“Take her away,” said Mrs. Crayton, “she will really frighten me into +hysterics; take her away I say this instant.” + +“And where must I take the poor creature?” said the servant with a voice +and look of compassion. + +“Any where,” cried she hastily, “only don't let me ever see her again. I +declare she has flurried me so I shan't be myself again this fortnight.” + +John, assisted by his fellow-servant, raised and carried her down +stairs. “Poor soul,” said he, “you shall not lay in the street this +night. I have a bed and a poor little hovel, where my wife and her +little ones rest them, but they shall watch to night, and you shall be +sheltered from danger.” They placed her in a chair; and the benevolent +man, assisted by one of his comrades, carried her to the place where his +wife and children lived. A surgeon was sent for: he bled her, she gave +signs of returning life, and before the dawn gave birth to a female +infant. After this event she lay for some hours in a kind of stupor; and +if at any time she spoke, it was with a quickness and incoherence that +plainly evinced the total deprivation of her reason. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +REASONS WHY AND WHEREFORE. + +THE reader of sensibility may perhaps be astonished to find Mrs. Crayton +could so positively deny any knowledge of Charlotte; it is therefore but +just that her conduct should in some measure be accounted for. She had +ever been fully sensible of the superiority of Charlotte's sense and +virtue; she was conscious that she had never swerved from rectitude, had +it not been for her bad precepts and worse example. These were things as +yet unknown to her husband, and she wished not to have that part of her +conduct exposed to him, as she had great reason to fear she had already +lost considerable part of that power she once maintained over him. She +trembled whilst Charlotte was in the house, lest the Colonel should +return; she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested in +her favour whilst on their passage from England, and made no doubt, but, +should he see her in her present distress, he would offer her an asylum, +and protect her to the utmost of his power. In that case she feared the +unguarded nature of Charlotte might discover to the Colonel the part +she had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement, and she well knew the +contrast between her own and Charlotte's conduct would make the former +appear in no very respectable light. Had she reflected properly, she +would have afforded the poor girl protection; and by enjoining her +silence, ensured it by acts of repeated kindness; but vice in general +blinds its votaries, and they discover their real characters to the +world when they are most studious to preserve appearances. + +Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton: her servants made no scruple of +mentioning the cruel conduct of their lady to a poor distressed +lunatic who claimed her protection; every one joined in reprobating her +inhumanity; nay even Corydon thought she might at least have ordered her +to be taken care of, but he dare not even hint it to her, for he lived +but in her smiles, and drew from her lavish fondness large sums to +support an extravagance to which the state of his own finances was very +inadequate; it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton +to be very liberal in her bounty to the afflicted suppliant; yet vice +had not so entirely seared over his heart, but the sorrows of Charlotte +could find a vulnerable part. + +Charlotte had now been three days with her humane preservers, but +she was totally insensible of every thing: she raved incessantly for +Montraville and her father: she was not conscious of being a mother, nor +took the least notice of her child except to ask whose it was, and why +it was not carried to its parents. + +“Oh,” said she one day, starting up on hearing the infant cry, “why, why +will you keep that child here; I am sure you would not if you knew +how hard it was for a mother to be parted from her infant: it is like +tearing the cords of life asunder. Oh could you see the horrid sight +which I now behold--there there stands my dear mother, her poor bosom +bleeding at every vein, her gentle, affectionate heart torn in a +thousand pieces, and all for the loss of a ruined, ungrateful child. +Save me save me--from her frown. I dare not--indeed I dare not speak to +her.” + +Such were the dreadful images that haunted her distracted mind, and +nature was sinking fast under the dreadful malady which medicine had +no power to remove. The surgeon who attended her was a humane man; he +exerted his utmost abilities to save her, but he saw she was in want of +many necessaries and comforts, which the poverty of her hospitable host +rendered him unable to provide: he therefore determined to make her +situation known to some of the officers' ladies, and endeavour to make a +collection for her relief. + +When he returned home, after making this resolution, he found a message +from Mrs. Beauchamp, who had just arrived from Rhode-Island, requesting +he would call and see one of her children, who was very unwell. “I do +not know,” said he, as he was hastening to obey the summons, “I do not +know a woman to whom I could apply with more hope of success than Mrs. +Beauchamp. I will endeavour to interest her in this poor girl's behalf, +she wants the soothing balm of friendly consolation: we may perhaps save +her; we will try at least.” + +“And where is she,” cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed +something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, “where is +she, Sir? we will go to her immediately. Heaven forbid that I should +be deaf to the calls of humanity. Come we will go this instant.” Then +seizing the doctor's arm, they sought the habitation that contained the +dying Charlotte. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +WHICH PEOPLE VOID OF FEELING NEED NOT READ. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp entered the apartment of the poor sufferer, she +started back with horror. On a wretched bed, without hangings and but +poorly supplied with covering, lay the emaciated figure of what still +retained the semblance of a lovely woman, though sickness had so altered +her features that Mrs. Beauchamp had not the least recollection of her +person. In one corner of the room stood a woman washing, and, shivering +over a small fire, two healthy but half naked children; the infant +was asleep beside its mother, and, on a chair by the bed side, stood +a porrenger and wooden spoon, containing a little gruel, and a tea-cup +with about two spoonfulls of wine in it. Mrs. Beauchamp had never +before beheld such a scene of poverty; she shuddered involuntarily, and +exclaiming--“heaven preserve us!” leaned on the back of a chair ready to +sink to the earth. The doctor repented having so precipitately brought +her into this affecting scene; but there was no time for apologies: +Charlotte caught the sound of her voice, and starting almost out of bed, +exclaimed--“Angel of peace and mercy, art thou come to deliver me? Oh, +I know you are, for whenever you was near me I felt eased of half my +sorrows; but you don't know me, nor can I, with all the recollection I +am mistress of, remember your name just now, but I know that benevolent +countenance, and the softness of that voice which has so often comforted +the wretched Charlotte.” + +Mrs. Beauchamp had, during the time Charlotte was speaking, seated +herself on the bed and taken one of her hands; she looked at her +attentively, and at the name of Charlotte she perfectly conceived +the whole shocking affair. A faint sickness came over her. “Gracious +heaven,” said she, “is this possible?” and bursting into tears, she +reclined the burning head of Charlotte on her own bosom; and folding her +arms about her, wept over her in silence. “Oh,” said Charlotte, “you are +very good to weep thus for me: it is a long time since I shed a tear for +myself: my head and heart are both on fire, but these tears of your's +seem to cool and refresh it. Oh now I remember you said you would send +a letter to my poor father: do you think he ever received it? or perhaps +you have brought me an answer: why don't you speak, Madam? Does he say I +may go home? Well he is very good; I shall soon be ready.” + +She then made an effort to get out of bed; but being prevented, her +frenzy again returned, and she raved with the greatest wildness and +incoherence. Mrs. Beauchamp, finding it was impossible for her to be +removed, contented herself with ordering the apartment to be made more +comfortable, and procuring a proper nurse for both mother and child; and +having learnt the particulars of Charlotte's fruitless application +to Mrs. Crayton from honest John, she amply rewarded him for his +benevolence, and returned home with a heart oppressed with many +painful sensations, but yet rendered easy by the reflexion that she had +performed her duty towards a distressed fellow-creature. + +Early the next morning she again visited Charlotte, and found her +tolerably composed; she called her by name, thanked her for her +goodness, and when her child was brought to her, pressed it in her +arms, wept over it, and called it the offspring of disobedience. Mrs. +Beauchamp was delighted to see her so much amended, and began to hope +she might recover, and, spite of her former errors, become an useful and +respectable member of society; but the arrival of the doctor put an end +to these delusive hopes: he said nature was making her last effort, and +a few hours would most probably consign the unhappy girl to her kindred +dust. + +Being asked how she found herself, she replied--“Why better, much +better, doctor. I hope now I have but little more to suffer. I had last +night a few hours sleep, and when I awoke recovered the full power of +recollection. I am quite sensible of my weakness; I feel I have but +little longer to combat with the shafts of affliction. I have an humble +confidence in the mercy of him who died to save the world, and trust +that my sufferings in this state of mortality, joined to my unfeigned +repentance, through his mercy, have blotted my offences from the sight +of my offended maker. I have but one care--my poor infant! Father of +mercy,” continued she, raising her eyes, “of thy infinite goodness, +grant that the sins of the parent be not visited on the unoffending +child. May those who taught me to despise thy laws be forgiven; lay not +my offences to their charge, I beseech thee; and oh! shower the choicest +of thy blessings on those whose pity has soothed the afflicted heart, +and made easy even the bed of pain and sickness.” + +She was exhausted by this fervent address to the throne of mercy, and +though her lips still moved her voice became inarticulate: she lay for +some time as it were in a doze, and then recovering, faintly pressed +Mrs. Beauchamp's hand, and requested that a clergyman might be sent for. + +On his arrival she joined fervently in the pious office, frequently +mentioning her ingratitude to her parents as what lay most heavy at her +heart. When she had performed the last solemn duty, and was preparing to +lie down, a little bustle on the outside door occasioned Mrs. Beauchamp +to open it, and enquire the cause. A man in appearance about forty, +presented himself, and asked for Mrs. Beauchamp. + +“That is my name, Sir,” said she. + +“Oh then, my dear Madam,” cried he, “tell me where I may find my poor, +ruined, but repentant child.” + +Mrs. Beauchamp was surprised and affected; she knew not what to say; she +foresaw the agony this interview would occasion Mr. Temple, who had just +arrived in search of his Charlotte, and yet was sensible that the pardon +and blessing of her father would soften even the agonies of death to the +daughter. + +She hesitated. “Tell me, Madam,” cried he wildly, “tell me, I beseech +thee, does she live? shall I see my darling once again? Perhaps she is +in this house. Lead, lead me to her, that I may bless her, and then lie +down and die.” + +The ardent manner in which he uttered these words occasioned him to +raise his voice. It caught the ear of Charlotte: she knew the beloved +sound: and uttering a loud shriek, she sprang forward as Mr. Temple +entered the room. “My adored father.” “My long lost child.” Nature +could support no more, and they both sunk lifeless into the arms of the +attendants. + +Charlotte was again put into bed, and a few moments restored Mr. Temple: +but to describe the agony of his sufferings is past the power of +any one, who, though they may readily conceive, cannot delineate the +dreadful scene. Every eye gave testimony of what each heart felt--but +all were silent. + +When Charlotte recovered, she found herself supported in her father's +arms. She cast on him a most expressive look, but was unable to speak. +A reviving cordial was administered. She then asked in a low voice, +for her child: it was brought to her: she put it in her father's arms. +“Protect her,” said she, “and bless your dying--” + +Unable to finish the sentence, she sunk back on her pillow: her +countenance was serenely composed; she regarded her father as he pressed +the infant to his breast with a steadfast look; a sudden beam of joy +passed across her languid features, she raised her eyes to heaven--and +then closed them for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +RETRIBUTION. + +IN the mean time Montraville having received orders to return to +New-York, arrived, and having still some remains of compassionate +tenderness for the woman whom he regarded as brought to shame by +himself, he went out in search of Belcour, to enquire whether she was +safe, and whether the child lived. He found him immersed in dissipation, +and could gain no other intelligence than that Charlotte had left him, +and that he knew not what was become of her. + +“I cannot believe it possible,” said Montraville, “that a mind once so +pure as Charlotte Temple's, should so suddenly become the mansion of +vice. Beware, Belcour,” continued he, “beware if you have dared to +behave either unjust or dishonourably to that poor girl, your life shall +pay the forfeit:--I will revenge her cause.” + +He immediately went into the country, to the house where he had left +Charlotte. It was desolate. After much enquiry he at length found the +servant girl who had lived with her. From her he learnt the misery +Charlotte had endured from the complicated evils of illness, poverty, +and a broken heart, and that she had set out on foot for New-York, on a +cold winter's evening; but she could inform him no further. + +Tortured almost to madness by this shocking account, he returned to the +city, but, before he reached it, the evening was drawing to a close. +In entering the town he was obliged to pass several little huts, the +residence of poor women who supported themselves by washing the cloaths +of the officers and soldiers. It was nearly dark: he heard from a +neighbouring steeple a solemn toll that seemed to say some poor mortal +was going to their last mansion: the sound struck on the heart of +Montraville, and he involuntarily stopped, when, from one of the houses, +he saw the appearance of a funeral. Almost unknowing what he did, he +followed at a small distance; and as they let the coffin into the grave, +he enquired of a soldier who stood by, and had just brushed off a tear +that did honour to his heart, who it was that was just buried. “An +please your honour,” said the man, “'tis a poor girl that was brought +from her friends by a cruel man, who left her when she was big with +child, and married another.” Montraville stood motionless, and the man +proceeded--“I met her myself not a fortnight since one night all wet and +cold in the streets; she went to Madam Crayton's, but she would not take +her in, and so the poor thing went raving mad.” Montraville could bear +no more; he struck his hands against his forehead with violence; and +exclaiming “poor murdered Charlotte!” ran with precipitation towards the +place where they were heaping the earth on her remains. “Hold, hold, one +moment,” said he. “Close not the grave of the injured Charlotte Temple +till I have taken vengeance on her murderer.” + +“Rash young man,” said Mr. Temple, “who art thou that thus disturbest +the last mournful rites of the dead, and rudely breakest in upon the +grief of an afflicted father.” + +“If thou art the father of Charlotte Temple,” said he, gazing at +him with mingled horror and amazement--“if thou art her father--I am +Montraville.” Then falling on his knees, he continued--“Here is my +bosom. I bare it to receive the stroke I merit. Strike--strike now, and +save me from the misery of reflexion.” + +“Alas!” said Mr. Temple, “if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own +reflexions be thy punishment. I wrest not the power from the hand of +omnipotence. Look on that little heap of earth, there hast thou buried +the only joy of a fond father. Look at it often; and may thy heart feel +such true sorrow as shall merit the mercy of heaven.” He turned from +him; and Montraville starting up from the ground, where he had thrown +himself, and at that instant remembering the perfidy of Belcour, flew +like lightning to his lodgings. Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville +impetuous: they fought, and the sword of the latter entered the heart +of his adversary. He fell, and expired almost instantly. Montraville had +received a slight wound; and overcome with the agitation of his mind and +loss of blood, was carried in a state of insensibility to his distracted +wife. A dangerous illness and obstinate delirium ensued, during which +he raved incessantly for Charlotte: but a strong constitution, and +the tender assiduities of Julia, in time overcame the disorder. He +recovered; but to the end of his life was subject to severe fits of +melancholy, and while he remained at New-York frequently retired to the +church-yard, where he would weep over the grave, and regret the untimely +fate of the lovely Charlotte Temple. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +CONCLUSION. + +SHORTLY after the interment of his daughter, Mr. Temple, with his +dear little charge and her nurse, set forward for England. It would be +impossible to do justice to the meeting scene between him, his Lucy, and +her aged father. Every heart of sensibility can easily conceive their +feelings. After the first tumult of grief was subsided, Mrs. Temple +gave up the chief of her time to her grand-child, and as she grew up and +improved, began to almost fancy she again possessed her Charlotte. + +It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and Mrs. +Temple, having buried their father, were obliged to come to London on +particular business, and brought the little Lucy with them. They had +been walking one evening, when on their return they found a poor +wretch sitting on the steps of the door. She attempted to rise as they +approached, but from extreme weakness was unable, and after several +fruitless efforts fell back in a fit. Mr. Temple was not one of those +men who stand to consider whether by assisting an object in distress +they shall not inconvenience themselves, but instigated by the impulse +of a noble feeling heart, immediately ordered her to be carried into the +house, and proper restoratives applied. + +She soon recovered; and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Temple, cried--“You know +not, Madam, what you do; you know not whom you are relieving, or you +would curse me in the bitterness of your heart. Come not near me, Madam, +I shall contaminate you. I am the viper that stung your peace. I am the +woman who turned the poor Charlotte out to perish in the street. Heaven +have mercy! I see her now,” continued she looking at Lucy; “such, such +was the fair bud of innocence that my vile arts blasted ere it was half +blown.” + +It was in vain that Mr. and Mrs. Temple intreated her to be composed and +to take some refreshment. She only drank half a glass of wine; and then +told them that she had been separated from her husband seven years, +the chief of which she had passed in riot, dissipation, and vice, till, +overtaken by poverty and sickness, she had been reduced to part with +every valuable, and thought only of ending her life in a prison; when a +benevolent friend paid her debts and released her; but that her illness +increasing, she had no possible means of supporting herself, and her +friends were weary of relieving her. “I have fasted,” said she, “two +days, and last night lay my aching head on the cold pavement: indeed it +was but just that I should experience those miseries myself which I had +unfeelingly inflicted on others.” + +Greatly as Mr. Temple had reason to detest Mrs. Crayton, he could not +behold her in this distress without some emotions of pity. He gave her +shelter that night beneath his hospitable roof, and the next day got her +admission into an hospital; where having lingered a few weeks, she died, +a striking example that vice, however prosperous in the beginning, in +the end leads only to misery and shame. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + +***** This file should be named 171-0.txt or 171-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/171/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/171-0.zip b/171-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e63d73f --- /dev/null +++ b/171-0.zip diff --git a/171-h.zip b/171-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6254622 --- /dev/null +++ b/171-h.zip diff --git a/171-h/171-h.htm b/171-h/171-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1739aea --- /dev/null +++ b/171-h/171-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5211 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Haswell Rowson + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Charlotte Temple + +Author: Susanna Rowson + +Release Date: March 12, 2006 [EBook #171] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + CHARLOTTE TEMPLE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Susanna Haswell Rowson + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a><br /> <br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>CHARLOTTE TEMPLE</b></big> </a><br /> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>VOLUME I</b> </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> + CHAPTER II. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> + CHAPTER V. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> + CHAPTER XI. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> + CHAPTER XIV. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> + CHAPTER XVII. </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> <b>VOLUME II</b> + </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> + CHAPTER XX. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXI. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> + CHAPTER XXIII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXV. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> + CHAPTER XXVI. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> + CHAPTER XXX. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> + CHAPTER XXXIII. </a><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + FOR the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex, this Tale of + Truth is designed; and I could wish my fair readers to consider it as not + merely the effusion of Fancy, but as a reality. The circumstances on which + I have founded this novel were related to me some little time since by an + old lady who had personally known Charlotte, though she concealed the real + names of the characters, and likewise the place where the unfortunate + scenes were acted: yet as it was impossible to offer a relation to the + public in such an imperfect state, I have thrown over the whole a slight + veil of fiction, and substituted names and places according to my own + fancy. The principal characters in this little tale are now consigned to + the silent tomb: it can therefore hurt the feelings of no one; and may, I + flatter myself, be of service to some who are so unfortunate as to have + neither friends to advise, or understanding to direct them, through the + various and unexpected evils that attend a young and unprotected woman in + her first entrance into life. + </p> + <p> + While the tear of compassion still trembled in my eye for the fate of the + unhappy Charlotte, I may have children of my own, said I, to whom this + recital may be of use, and if to your own children, said Benevolence, why + not to the many daughters of Misfortune who, deprived of natural friends, + or spoilt by a mistaken education, are thrown on an unfeeling world + without the least power to defend themselves from the snares not only of + the other sex, but from the more dangerous arts of the profligate of their + own. + </p> + <p> + Sensible as I am that a novel writer, at a time when such a variety of + works are ushered into the world under that name, stands but a poor chance + for fame in the annals of literature, but conscious that I wrote with a + mind anxious for the happiness of that sex whose morals and conduct have + so powerful an influence on mankind in general; and convinced that I have + not wrote a line that conveys a wrong idea to the head or a corrupt wish + to the heart, I shall rest satisfied in the purity of my own intentions, + and if I merit not applause, I feel that I dread not censure. + </p> + <p> + If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from the errors + which ruined poor Charlotte, or rescue from impending misery the heart of + one anxious parent, I shall feel a much higher gratification in reflecting + on this trifling performance, than could possibly result from the applause + which might attend the most elegant finished piece of literature whose + tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the understanding. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME I + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <h3> + A BOARDING SCHOOL. + </h3> + <p> + “ARE you for a walk,” said Montraville to his companion, as they arose + from table; “are you for a walk? or shall we order the chaise and proceed + to Portsmouth?” Belcour preferred the former; and they sauntered out to + view the town, and to make remarks on the inhabitants, as they returned + from church. + </p> + <p> + Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his brother officer: + they had been to take leave of their friends previous to their departure + for America, and were now returning to Portsmouth, where the troops waited + orders for embarkation. They had stopped at Chichester to dine; and + knowing they had sufficient time to reach the place of destination before + dark, and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it being Sunday afternoon, + to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as they returned from their + devotions. + </p> + <p> + They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return to the + inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, when + Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from the church. Such + an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally attracted the young + soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little cavalcade passed, almost + involuntarily pulled off their hats. A tall, elegant girl looked at + Montraville and blushed: he instantly recollected the features of + Charlotte Temple, whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at + Portsmouth. At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child, + she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made in + her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her cheeks as she + passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas. Vanity led him to + think that pleasure at again beholding him might have occasioned the + emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity led him to wish to see her + again. + </p> + <p> + “She is the sweetest girl in the world,” said he, as he entered the inn. + Belcour stared. “Did you not notice her?” continued Montraville: “she had + on a blue bonnet, and with a pair of lovely eyes of the same colour, has + contrived to make me feel devilish odd about the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Pho,” said Belcour, “a musket ball from our friends, the Americans, may + in less than two months make you feel worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I never think of the future,” replied Montraville; “but am determined to + make the most of the present, and would willingly compound with any kind + Familiar who would inform me who the girl is, and how I might be likely to + obtain an interview.” + </p> + <p> + But no kind Familiar at that time appearing, and the chaise which they had + ordered, driving up to the door, Montraville and his companion were + obliged to take leave of Chichester and its fair inhabitant, and proceed + on their journey. + </p> + <p> + But Charlotte had made too great an impression on his mind to be easily + eradicated: having therefore spent three whole days in thinking on her and + in endeavouring to form some plan for seeing her, he determined to set off + for Chichester, and trust to chance either to favour or frustrate his + designs. Arriving at the verge of the town, he dismounted, and sending the + servant forward with the horses, proceeded toward the place, where, in the + midst of an extensive pleasure ground, stood the mansion which contained + the lovely Charlotte Temple. Montraville leaned on a broken gate, and + looked earnestly at the house. The wall which surrounded it was high, and + perhaps the Argus's who guarded the Hesperian fruit within, were more + watchful than those famed of old. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a romantic attempt,” said he; “and should I even succeed in seeing + and conversing with her, it can be productive of no good: I must of + necessity leave England in a few days, and probably may never return; why + then should I endeavour to engage the affections of this lovely girl, only + to leave her a prey to a thousand inquietudes, of which at present she has + no idea? I will return to Portsmouth and think no more about her.” + </p> + <p> + The evening now was closed; a serene stillness reigned; and the chaste + Queen of Night with her silver crescent faintly illuminated the + hemisphere. The mind of Montraville was hushed into composure by the + serenity of the surrounding objects. “I will think on her no more,” said + he, and turned with an intention to leave the place; but as he turned, he + saw the gate which led to the pleasure grounds open, and two women come + out, who walked arm-in-arm across the field. + </p> + <p> + “I will at least see who these are,” said he. He overtook them, and giving + them the compliments of the evening, begged leave to see them into the + more frequented parts of the town: but how was he delighted, when, waiting + for an answer, he discovered, under the concealment of a large bonnet, the + face of Charlotte Temple. + </p> + <p> + He soon found means to ingratiate himself with her companion, who was a + French teacher at the school, and, at parting, slipped a letter he had + purposely written, into Charlotte's hand, and five guineas into that of + Mademoiselle, who promised she would endeavour to bring her young charge + into the field again the next evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <h3> + DOMESTIC CONCERNS. + </h3> + <p> + MR. Temple was the youngest son of a nobleman whose fortune was by no + means adequate to the antiquity, grandeur, and I may add, pride of the + family. He saw his elder brother made completely wretched by marrying a + disagreeable woman, whose fortune helped to prop the sinking dignity of + the house; and he beheld his sisters legally prostituted to old, decrepid + men, whose titles gave them consequence in the eyes of the world, and + whose affluence rendered them splendidly miserable. “I will not sacrifice + internal happiness for outward shew,” said he: “I will seek Content; and, + if I find her in a cottage, will embrace her with as much cordiality as I + should if seated on a throne.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Temple possessed a small estate of about five hundred pounds a year; + and with that he resolved to preserve independence, to marry where the + feelings of his heart should direct him, and to confine his expenses + within the limits of his income. He had a heart open to every generous + feeling of humanity, and a hand ready to dispense to those who wanted part + of the blessings he enjoyed himself. + </p> + <p> + As he was universally known to be the friend of the unfortunate, his + advice and bounty was frequently solicited; nor was it seldom that he + sought out indigent merit, and raised it from obscurity, confining his own + expenses within a very narrow compass. + </p> + <p> + “You are a benevolent fellow,” said a young officer to him one day; “and I + have a great mind to give you a fine subject to exercise the goodness of + your heart upon.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot oblige me more,” said Temple, “than to point out any way by + which I can be serviceable to my fellow creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along then,” said the young man, “we will go and visit a man who is + not in so good a lodging as he deserves; and, were it not that he has an + angel with him, who comforts and supports him, he must long since have + sunk under his misfortunes.” The young man's heart was too full to + proceed; and Temple, unwilling to irritate his feelings by making further + enquiries, followed him in silence, til they arrived at the Fleet prison. + </p> + <p> + The officer enquired for Captain Eldridge: a person led them up several + pair of dirty stairs, and pointing to a door which led to a miserable, + small apartment, said that was the Captain's room, and retired. + </p> + <p> + The officer, whose name was Blakeney, tapped at the door, and was bid to + enter by a voice melodiously soft. He opened the door, and discovered to + Temple a scene which rivetted him to the spot with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, was neat + in the extreme. In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon his hand, his eyes + fixed on a book which lay open before him, sat an aged man in a + Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, would sooner call a blush + of shame into the face of those who could neglect real merit, than cause + the hectic of confusion to glow on the cheeks of him who wore it. + </p> + <p> + Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount. She was + fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her cheek before it + was half blown. Her eyes were blue; and her hair, which was light brown, + was slightly confined under a plain muslin cap, tied round with a black + ribbon; a white linen gown and plain lawn handkerchief composed the + remainder of her dress; and in this simple attire, she was more + irresistibly charming to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have + been, if adorned with all the splendor of a courtly belle. + </p> + <p> + When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking Blakeney + by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; and there + being but three in the room, seated himself on the side of his little bed + with evident composure. + </p> + <p> + “This is a strange place,” said he to Temple, “to receive visitors of + distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station. While I am + not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush at + my situation? Our misfortunes are not our faults; and were it not for that + poor girl—” + </p> + <p> + Here the philosopher was lost in the father. He rose hastily from his + seat, and walking toward the window, wiped off a tear which he was afraid + would tarnish the cheek of a sailor. + </p> + <p> + Temple cast his eye on Miss Eldridge: a pellucid drop had stolen from her + eyes, and fallen upon a rose she was painting. It blotted and discoloured + the flower. “'Tis emblematic,” said he mentally: “the rose of youth and + health soon fades when watered by the tear of affliction.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend Blakeney,” said he, addressing the old man, “told me I could be + of service to you: be so kind then, dear Sir, as to point out some way in + which I can relieve the anxiety of your heart and increase the pleasures + of my own.” + </p> + <p> + “My good young man,” said Eldridge, “you know not what you offer. While + deprived of my liberty I cannot be free from anxiety on my own account; + but that is a trifling concern; my anxious thoughts extend to one more + dear a thousand times than life: I am a poor weak old man, and must expect + in a few years to sink into silence and oblivion; but when I am gone, who + will protect that fair bud of innocence from the blasts of adversity, or + from the cruel hand of insult and dishonour.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my father!” cried Miss Eldridge, tenderly taking his hand, “be not + anxious on that account; for daily are my prayers offered to heaven that + our lives may terminate at the same instant, and one grave receive us + both; for why should I live when deprived of my only friend.” + </p> + <p> + Temple was moved even to tears. “You will both live many years,” said he, + “and I hope see much happiness. Cheerly, my friend, cheerly; these passing + clouds of adversity will serve only to make the sunshine of prosperity + more pleasing. But we are losing time: you might ere this have told me who + were your creditors, what were their demands, and other particulars + necessary to your liberation.” + </p> + <p> + “My story is short,” said Mr. Eldridge, “but there are some particulars + which will wring my heart barely to remember; yet to one whose offers of + friendship appear so open and disinterested, I will relate every + circumstance that led to my present, painful situation. But my child,” + continued he, addressing his daughter, “let me prevail on you to take this + opportunity, while my friends are with me, to enjoy the benefit of air and + exercise.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, my love; leave me now; to-morrow at your usual hour I will expect + you.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Eldridge impressed on his cheek the kiss of filial affection, and + obeyed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <h3> + UNEXPECTED MISFORTUNES. + </h3> + <p> + “MY life,” said Mr. Eldridge, “till within these few years was marked by + no particular circumstance deserving notice. I early embraced the life of + a sailor, and have served my King with unremitted ardour for many years. + At the age of twenty-five I married an amiable woman; one son, and the + girl who just now left us, were the fruits of our union. My boy had genius + and spirit. I straitened my little income to give him a liberal education, + but the rapid progress he made in his studies amply compensated for the + inconvenience. At the academy where he received his education he commenced + an acquaintance with a Mr. Lewis, a young man of affluent fortune: as they + grew up their intimacy ripened into friendship, and they became almost + inseparable companions. + </p> + <p> + “George chose the profession of a soldier. I had neither friends or money + to procure him a commission, and had wished him to embrace a nautical + life: but this was repugnant to his wishes, and I ceased to urge him on + the subject. + </p> + <p> + “The friendship subsisting between Lewis and my son was of such a nature + as gave him free access to our family; and so specious was his manner that + we hesitated not to state to him all our little difficulties in regard to + George's future views. He listened to us with attention, and offered to + advance any sum necessary for his first setting out. + </p> + <p> + “I embraced the offer, and gave him my note for the payment of it, but he + would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time, as he said I might do + it whenever most convenient to myself. About this time my dear Lucy + returned from school, and I soon began to imagine Lewis looked at her with + eyes of affection. I gave my child a caution to beware of him, and to look + on her mother as her friend. She was unaffectedly artless; and when, as I + suspected, Lewis made professions of love, she confided in her parents, + and assured us her heart was perfectly unbiassed in his favour, and she + would cheerfully submit to our direction. + </p> + <p> + “I took an early opportunity of questioning him concerning his intentions + towards my child: he gave an equivocal answer, and I forbade him the + house. + </p> + <p> + “The next day he sent and demanded payment of his money. It was not in my + power to comply with the demand. I requested three days to endeavour to + raise it, determining in that time to mortgage my half pay, and live on a + small annuity which my wife possessed, rather than be under an obligation + to so worthless a man: but this short time was not allowed me; for that + evening, as I was sitting down to supper, unsuspicious of danger, an + officer entered, and tore me from the embraces of my family. + </p> + <p> + “My wife had been for some time in a declining state of health: ruin at + once so unexpected and inevitable was a stroke she was not prepared to + bear, and I saw her faint into the arms of our servant, as I left my own + habitation for the comfortless walls of a prison. My poor Lucy, distracted + with her fears for us both, sunk on the floor and endeavoured to detain me + by her feeble efforts, but in vain; they forced open her arms; she + shrieked, and fell prostrate. But pardon me. The horrors of that night + unman me. I cannot proceed.” + </p> + <p> + He rose from his seat, and walked several times across the room: at + length, attaining more composure, he cried—“What a mere infant I am! + Why, Sir, I never felt thus in the day of battle.” “No,” said Temple; “but + the truly brave soul is tremblingly alive to the feelings of humanity.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied the old man, (something like satisfaction darting across + his features) “and painful as these feelings are, I would not exchange + them for that torpor which the stoic mistakes for philosophy. How many + exquisite delights should I have passed by unnoticed, but for these keen + sensations, this quick sense of happiness or misery? Then let us, my + friend, take the cup of life as it is presented to us, tempered by the + hand of a wise Providence; be thankful for the good, be patient under the + evil, and presume not to enquire why the latter predominates.” + </p> + <p> + “This is true philosophy,” said Temple. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the only way to reconcile ourselves to the cross events of life,” + replied he. “But I forget myself. I will not longer intrude on your + patience, but proceed in my melancholy tale. + </p> + <p> + “The very evening that I was taken to prison, my son arrived from Ireland, + where he had been some time with his regiment. From the distracted + expressions of his mother and sister, he learnt by whom I had been + arrested; and, late as it was, flew on the wings of wounded affection, to + the house of his false friend, and earnestly enquired the cause of this + cruel conduct. With all the calmness of a cool deliberate villain, he + avowed his passion for Lucy; declared her situation in life would not + permit him to marry her; but offered to release me immediately, and make + any settlement on her, if George would persuade her to live, as he + impiously termed it, a life of honour. + </p> + <p> + “Fired at the insult offered to a man and a soldier, my boy struck the + villain, and a challenge ensued. He then went to a coffee-house in the + neighbourhood and wrote a long affectionate letter to me, blaming himself + severely for having introduced Lewis into the family, or permitted him to + confer an obligation, which had brought inevitable ruin on us all. He + begged me, whatever might be the event of the ensuing morning, not to + suffer regret or unavailing sorrow for his fate, to increase the anguish + of my heart, which he greatly feared was already insupportable. + </p> + <p> + “This letter was delivered to me early in the morning. It would be vain to + attempt describing my feelings on the perusal of it; suffice it to say, + that a merciful Providence interposed, and I was for three weeks + insensible to miseries almost beyond the strength of human nature to + support. + </p> + <p> + “A fever and strong delirium seized me, and my life was despaired of. At + length, nature, overpowered with fatigue, gave way to the salutary power + of rest, and a quiet slumber of some hours restored me to reason, though + the extreme weakness of my frame prevented my feeling my distress so + acutely as I otherways should. + </p> + <p> + “The first object that struck me on awaking, was Lucy sitting by my + bedside; her pale countenance and sable dress prevented my enquiries for + poor George: for the letter I had received from him, was the first thing + that occurred to my memory. By degrees the rest returned: I recollected + being arrested, but could no ways account for being in this apartment, + whither they had conveyed me during my illness. + </p> + <p> + “I was so weak as to be almost unable to speak. I pressed Lucy's hand, and + looked earnestly round the apartment in search of another dear object. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mother?” said I, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “The poor girl could not answer: she shook her head in expressive silence; + and throwing herself on the bed, folded her arms about me, and burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + “What! both gone?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Both,” she replied, endeavouring to restrain her emotions: “but they are + happy, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection of the scene was too painful to + permit him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <h3> + CHANGE OF FORTUNE. + </h3> + <p> + “IT was some days,” continued Mr. Eldridge, recovering himself, “before I + could venture to enquire the particulars of what had happened during my + illness: at length I assumed courage to ask my dear girl how long her + mother and brother had been dead: she told me, that the morning after my + arrest, George came home early to enquire after his mother's health, staid + with them but a few minutes, seemed greatly agitated at parting, but gave + them strict charge to keep up their spirits, and hope every thing would + turn out for the best. In about two hours after, as they were sitting at + breakfast, and endeavouring to strike out some plan to attain my liberty, + they heard a loud rap at the door, which Lucy running to open, she met the + bleeding body of her brother, borne in by two men who had lifted him from + a litter, on which they had brought him from the place where he fought. + Her poor mother, weakened by illness and the struggles of the preceding + night, was not able to support this shock; gasping for breath, her looks + wild and haggard, she reached the apartment where they had carried her + dying son. She knelt by the bed side; and taking his cold hand, 'my poor + boy,' said she, 'I will not be parted from thee: husband! son! both at + once lost. Father of mercies, spare me!' She fell into a strong + convulsion, and expired in about two hours. In the mean time, a surgeon + had dressed George's wounds; but they were in such a situation as to bar + the smallest hopes of recovery. He never was sensible from the time he was + brought home, and died that evening in the arms of his sister. + </p> + <p> + “Late as it was when this event took place, my affectionate Lucy insisted + on coming to me. 'What must he feel,' said she, 'at our apparent neglect, + and how shall I inform him of the afflictions with which it has pleased + heaven to visit us?' + </p> + <p> + “She left the care of the dear departed ones to some neighbours who had + kindly come in to comfort and assist her; and on entering the house where + I was confined, found me in the situation I have mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “How she supported herself in these trying moments, I know not: heaven, no + doubt, was with her; and her anxiety to preserve the life of one parent in + some measure abated her affliction for the loss of the other. + </p> + <p> + “My circumstances were greatly embarrassed, my acquaintance few, and those + few utterly unable to assist me. When my wife and son were committed to + their kindred earth, my creditors seized my house and furniture, which not + being sufficient to discharge all their demands, detainers were lodged + against me. No friend stepped forward to my relief; from the grave of her + mother, my beloved Lucy followed an almost dying father to this melancholy + place. + </p> + <p> + “Here we have been nearly a year and a half. My half-pay I have given up + to satisfy my creditors, and my child supports me by her industry: + sometimes by fine needlework, sometimes by painting. She leaves me every + night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge; but returns in the morning, + to cheer me with her smiles, and bless me by her duteous affection. A lady + once offered her an asylum in her family; but she would not leave me. 'We + are all the world to each other,' said she. 'I thank God, I have health + and spirits to improve the talents with which nature has endowed me; and I + trust if I employ them in the support of a beloved parent, I shall not be + thought an unprofitable servant. While he lives, I pray for strength to + pursue my employment; and when it pleases heaven to take one of us, may it + give the survivor resignation to bear the separation as we ought: till + then I will never leave him.'” + </p> + <p> + “But where is this inhuman persecutor?” said Temple. + </p> + <p> + “He has been abroad ever since,” replied the old man; “but he has left + orders with his lawyer never to give up the note till the utmost farthing + is paid.” + </p> + <p> + “And how much is the amount of your debts in all?” said Temple. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred pounds,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Temple started: it was more than he expected. “But something must be + done,” said he: “that sweet maid must not wear out her life in a prison. I + will see you again to-morrow, my friend,” said he, shaking Eldridge's + hand: “keep up your spirits: light and shade are not more happily blended + than are the pleasures and pains of life; and the horrors of the one serve + only to increase the splendor of the other.” + </p> + <p> + “You never lost a wife and son,” said Eldridge. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied he, “but I can feel for those that have.” Eldridge pressed + his hand as they went toward the door, and they parted in silence. + </p> + <p> + When they got without the walls of the prison, Temple thanked his friend + Blakeney for introducing him to so worthy a character; and telling him he + had a particular engagement in the city, wished him a good evening. + </p> + <p> + “And what is to be done for this distressed man,” said Temple, as he + walked up Ludgate Hill. “Would to heaven I had a fortune that would enable + me instantly to discharge his debt: what exquisite transport, to see the + expressive eyes of Lucy beaming at once with pleasure for her father's + deliverance, and gratitude for her deliverer: but is not my fortune + affluence,” continued he, “nay superfluous wealth, when compared to the + extreme indigence of Eldridge; and what have I done to deserve ease and + plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? Three hundred a + year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes: at any rate + Eldridge must be relieved.” + </p> + <p> + When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute a good + action. + </p> + <p> + Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; unacquainted with + the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being convinced of + its fraud and hypocrisy. He pitied their sufferings, overlooked their + faults, thought every bosom as generous as his own, and would cheerfully + have divided his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow creature. + </p> + <p> + No wonder, then, that such a man (without waiting a moment for the + interference of Madam Prudence) should resolve to raise money sufficient + for the relief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part of his fortune. + </p> + <p> + We will not enquire too minutely into the cause which might actuate him in + this instance: suffice it to say, he immediately put the plan in + execution; and in three days from the time he first saw the unfortunate + Lieutenant, he had the superlative felicity of seeing him at liberty, and + receiving an ample reward in the tearful eye and half articulated thanks + of the grateful Lucy. + </p> + <p> + “And pray, young man,” said his father to him one morning, “what are your + designs in visiting thus constantly that old man and his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + Temple was at a loss for a reply: he had never asked himself the question: + he hesitated; and his father continued— + </p> + <p> + “It was not till within these few days that I heard in what manner your + acquaintance first commenced, and cannot suppose any thing but attachment + to the daughter could carry you such imprudent lengths for the father: it + certainly must be her art that drew you in to mortgage part of your + fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Art, Sir!” cried Temple eagerly. “Lucy Eldridge is as free from art as + she is from every other error: she is—” + </p> + <p> + “Everything that is amiable and lovely,” said his father, interrupting him + ironically: “no doubt in your opinion she is a pattern of excellence for + all her sex to follow; but come, Sir, pray tell me what are your designs + towards this paragon. I hope you do not intend to complete your folly by + marrying her.” + </p> + <p> + “Were my fortune such as would support her according to her merit, I don't + know a woman more formed to insure happiness in the married state.” + </p> + <p> + “Then prithee, my dear lad,” said his father, “since your rank and fortune + are so much beneath what your PRINCESS might expect, be so kind as to turn + your eyes on Miss Weatherby; who, having only an estate of three thousand + a year, is more upon a level with you, and whose father yesterday + solicited the mighty honour of your alliance. I shall leave you to + consider on this offer; and pray remember, that your union with Miss + Weatherby will put it in your power to be more liberally the friend of + Lucy Eldridge.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman walked in a stately manner out of the room; and Temple + stood almost petrified with astonishment, contempt, and rage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <h3> + SUCH THINGS ARE. + </h3> + <p> + MISS Weatherby was the only child of a wealthy man, almost idolized by her + parents, flattered by her dependants, and never contradicted even by those + who called themselves her friends: I cannot give a better description than + by the following lines. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lovely maid whose form and face + Nature has deck'd with ev'ry grace, + But in whose breast no virtues glow, + Whose heart ne'er felt another's woe, + Whose hand ne'er smooth'd the bed of pain, + Or eas'd the captive's galling chain; + But like the tulip caught the eye, + Born just to be admir'd and die; + When gone, no one regrets its loss, + Or scarce remembers that it was. +</pre> + <p> + Such was Miss Weatherby: her form lovely as nature could make it, but her + mind uncultivated, her heart unfeeling, her passions impetuous, and her + brain almost turned with flattery, dissipation, and pleasure; and such was + the girl, whom a partial grandfather left independent mistress of the + fortune before mentioned. + </p> + <p> + She had seen Temple frequently; and fancying she could never be happy + without him, nor once imagining he could refuse a girl of her beauty and + fortune, she prevailed on her fond father to offer the alliance to the old + Earl of D——, Mr. Temple's father. + </p> + <p> + The Earl had received the offer courteously: he thought it a great match + for Henry; and was too fashionable a man to suppose a wife could be any + impediment to the friendship he professed for Eldridge and his daughter. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately for Temple, he thought quite otherwise: the conversation he + had just had with his father, discovered to him the situation of his + heart; and he found that the most affluent fortune would bring no increase + of happiness unless Lucy Eldridge shared it with him; and the knowledge of + the purity of her sentiments, and the integrity of his own heart, made him + shudder at the idea his father had started, of marrying a woman for no + other reason than because the affluence of her fortune would enable him to + injure her by maintaining in splendor the woman to whom his heart was + devoted: he therefore resolved to refuse Miss Weatherby, and be the event + what it might, offer his heart and hand to Lucy Eldridge. + </p> + <p> + Full of this determination, he fought his father, declared his resolution, + and was commanded never more to appear in his presence. Temple bowed; his + heart was too full to permit him to speak; he left the house + precipitately, and hastened to relate the cause of his sorrows to his good + old friend and his amiable daughter. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, the Earl, vexed to the soul that such a fortune should + be lost, determined to offer himself a candidate for Miss Weatherby's + favour. + </p> + <p> + What wonderful changes are wrought by that reigning power, ambition! the + love-sick girl, when first she heard of Temple's refusal, wept, raved, + tore her hair, and vowed to found a protestant nunnery with her fortune; + and by commencing abbess, shut herself up from the sight of cruel + ungrateful man for ever. + </p> + <p> + Her father was a man of the world: he suffered this first transport to + subside, and then very deliberately unfolded to her the offers of the old + Earl, expatiated on the many benefits arising from an elevated title, + painted in glowing colours the surprise and vexation of Temple when he + should see her figuring as a Countess and his mother-in-law, and begged + her to consider well before she made any rash vows. + </p> + <p> + The DISTRESSED fair one dried her tears, listened patiently, and at length + declared she believed the surest method to revenge the slight put on her + by the son, would be to accept the father: so said so done, and in a few + days she became the Countess D——. + </p> + <p> + Temple heard the news with emotion: he had lost his father's favour by + avowing his passion for Lucy, and he saw now there was no hope of + regaining it: “but he shall not make me miserable,” said he. “Lucy and I + have no ambitious notions: we can live on three hundred a year for some + little time, till the mortgage is paid off, and then we shall have + sufficient not only for the comforts but many of the little elegancies of + life. We will purchase a little cottage, my Lucy,” said he, “and thither + with your reverend father we will retire; we will forget there are such + things as splendor, profusion, and dissipation: we will have some cows, + and you shall be queen of the dairy; in a morning, while I look after my + garden, you shall take a basket on your arm, and sally forth to feed your + poultry; and as they flutter round you in token of humble gratitude, your + father shall smoke his pipe in a woodbine alcove, and viewing the serenity + of your countenance, feel such real pleasure dilate his own heart, as + shall make him forget he had ever been unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Lucy smiled; and Temple saw it was a smile of approbation. He sought and + found a cottage suited to his taste; thither, attended by Love and Hymen, + the happy trio retired; where, during many years of uninterrupted + felicity, they cast not a wish beyond the little boundaries of their own + tenement. Plenty, and her handmaid, Prudence, presided at their board, + Hospitality stood at their gate, Peace smiled on each face, Content + reigned in each heart, and Love and Health strewed roses on their pillows. + </p> + <p> + Such were the parents of Charlotte Temple, who was the only pledge of + their mutual love, and who, at the earnest entreaty of a particular + friend, was permitted to finish the education her mother had begun, at + Madame Du Pont's school, where we first introduced her to the acquaintance + of the reader. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <h3> + AN INTRIGUING TEACHER. + </h3> + <p> + MADAME Du Pont was a woman every way calculated to take the care of young + ladies, had that care entirely devolved on herself; but it was impossible + to attend the education of a numerous school without proper assistants; + and those assistants were not always the kind of people whose conversation + and morals were exactly such as parents of delicacy and refinement would + wish a daughter to copy. Among the teachers at Madame Du Pont's school, + was Mademoiselle La Rue, who added to a pleasing person and insinuating + address, a liberal education and the manners of a gentlewoman. She was + recommended to the school by a lady whose humanity overstepped the bounds + of discretion: for though she knew Miss La Rue had eloped from a convent + with a young officer, and, on coming to England, had lived with several + different men in open defiance of all moral and religious duties; yet, + finding her reduced to the most abject want, and believing the penitence + which she professed to be sincere, she took her into her own family, and + from thence recommended her to Madame Du Pont, as thinking the situation + more suitable for a woman of her abilities. But Mademoiselle possessed too + much of the spirit of intrigue to remain long without adventures. At + church, where she constantly appeared, her person attracted the attention + of a young man who was upon a visit at a gentleman's seat in the + neighbourhood: she had met him several times clandestinely; and being + invited to come out that evening, and eat some fruit and pastry in a + summer-house belonging to the gentleman he was visiting, and requested to + bring some of the ladies with her, Charlotte being her favourite, was + fixed on to accompany her. + </p> + <p> + The mind of youth eagerly catches at promised pleasure: pure and innocent + by nature, it thinks not of the dangers lurking beneath those pleasures, + till too late to avoid them: when Mademoiselle asked Charlotte to go with + her, she mentioned the gentleman as a relation, and spoke in such high + terms of the elegance of his gardens, the sprightliness of his + conversation, and the liberality with which he ever entertained his + guests, that Charlotte thought only of the pleasure she should enjoy in + the visit,—not on the imprudence of going without her governess's + knowledge, or of the danger to which she exposed herself in visiting the + house of a gay young man of fashion. + </p> + <p> + Madame Du Pont was gone out for the evening, and the rest of the ladies + retired to rest, when Charlotte and the teacher stole out at the back + gate, and in crossing the field, were accosted by Montraville, as + mentioned in the first CHAPTER. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte was disappointed in the pleasure she had promised herself from + this visit. The levity of the gentlemen and the freedom of their + conversation disgusted her. She was astonished at the liberties + Mademoiselle permitted them to take; grew thoughtful and uneasy, and + heartily wished herself at home again in her own chamber. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps one cause of that wish might be, an earnest desire to see the + contents of the letter which had been put into her hand by Montraville. + </p> + <p> + Any reader who has the least knowledge of the world, will easily imagine + the letter was made up of encomiums on her beauty, and vows of everlasting + love and constancy; nor will he be surprised that a heart open to every + gentle, generous sentiment, should feel itself warmed by gratitude for a + man who professed to feel so much for her; nor is it improbable but her + mind might revert to the agreeable person and martial appearance of + Montraville. + </p> + <p> + In affairs of love, a young heart is never in more danger than when + attempted by a handsome young soldier. A man of an indifferent appearance, + will, when arrayed in a military habit, shew to advantage; but when beauty + of person, elegance of manner, and an easy method of paying compliments, + are united to the scarlet coat, smart cockade, and military sash, ah! + well-a-day for the poor girl who gazes on him: she is in imminent danger; + but if she listens to him with pleasure, 'tis all over with her, and from + that moment she has neither eyes nor ears for any other object. + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear sober matron, (if a sober matron should deign to turn over + these pages, before she trusts them to the eye of a darling daughter,) let + me intreat you not to put on a grave face, and throw down the book in a + passion and declare 'tis enough to turn the heads of half the girls in + England; I do solemnly protest, my dear madam, I mean no more by what I + have here advanced, than to ridicule those romantic girls, who foolishly + imagine a red coat and silver epaulet constitute the fine gentleman; and + should that fine gentleman make half a dozen fine speeches to them, they + will imagine themselves so much in love as to fancy it a meritorious + action to jump out of a two pair of stairs window, abandon their friends, + and trust entirely to the honour of a man, who perhaps hardly knows the + meaning of the word, and if he does, will be too much the modern man of + refinement, to practice it in their favour. + </p> + <p> + Gracious heaven! when I think on the miseries that must rend the heart of + a doating parent, when he sees the darling of his age at first seduced + from his protection, and afterwards abandoned, by the very wretch whose + promises of love decoyed her from the paternal roof—when he sees her + poor and wretched, her bosom tom between remorse for her crime and love + for her vile betrayer—when fancy paints to me the good old man + stooping to raise the weeping penitent, while every tear from her eye is + numbered by drops from his bleeding heart, my bosom glows with honest + indignation, and I wish for power to extirpate those monsters of seduction + from the earth. + </p> + <p> + Oh my dear girls—for to such only am I writing—listen not to + the voice of love, unless sanctioned by paternal approbation: be assured, + it is now past the days of romance: no woman can be run away with contrary + to her own inclination: then kneel down each morning, and request kind + heaven to keep you free from temptation, or, should it please to suffer + you to be tried, pray for fortitude to resist the impulse of inclination + when it runs counter to the precepts of religion and virtue. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <h3> + NATURAL SENSE OF PROPRIETY INHERENT IN THE FEMALE BOSOM. + </h3> + <p> + “I CANNOT think we have done exactly right in going out this evening, + Mademoiselle,” said Charlotte, seating herself when she entered her + apartment: “nay, I am sure it was not right; for I expected to be very + happy, but was sadly disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “It was your own fault, then,” replied Mademoiselle: “for I am sure my + cousin omitted nothing that could serve to render the evening agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Charlotte: “but I thought the gentlemen were very free in + their manner: I wonder you would suffer them to behave as they did.” + </p> + <p> + “Prithee, don't be such a foolish little prude,” said the artful woman, + affecting anger: “I invited you to go in hopes it would divert you, and be + an agreeable change of scene; however, if your delicacy was hurt by the + behaviour of the gentlemen, you need not go again; so there let it rest.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not intend to go again,” said Charlotte, gravely taking off her + bonnet, and beginning to prepare for bed: “I am sure, if Madame Du Pont + knew we had been out to-night, she would be very angry; and it is ten to + one but she hears of it by some means or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Miss,” said La Rue, “perhaps your mighty sense of propriety may lead + you to tell her yourself: and in order to avoid the censure you would + incur, should she hear of it by accident, throw the blame on me: but I + confess I deserve it: it will be a very kind return for that partiality + which led me to prefer you before any of the rest of the ladies; but + perhaps it will give you pleasure,” continued she, letting fall some + hypocritical tears, “to see me deprived of bread, and for an action which + by the most rigid could only be esteemed an inadvertency, lose my place + and character, and be driven again into the world, where I have already + suffered all the evils attendant on poverty.” + </p> + <p> + This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnerable part: she rose from her + seat, and taking Mademoiselle's hand—“You know, my dear La Rue,” + said she, “I love you too well, to do anything that would injure you in my + governess's opinion: I am only sorry we went out this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe it, Charlotte,” said she, assuming a little vivacity; + “for if you had not gone out, you would not have seen the gentleman who + met us crossing the field; and I rather think you were pleased with his + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “I had seen him once before,” replied Charlotte, “and thought him an + agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see a person with + whom one has passed several cheerful hours. But,” said she pausing, and + drawing the letter from her pocket, while a gentle suffusion of vermillion + tinged her neck and face, “he gave me this letter; what shall I do with + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Read it, to be sure,” returned Mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I ought not,” said Charlotte: “my mother has often told me, I + should never read a letter given me by a young man, without first giving + it to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless you, my dear girl,” cried the teacher smiling, “have you a + mind to be in leading strings all your life time. Prithee open the letter, + read it, and judge for yourself; if you show it your mother, the + consequence will be, you will be taken from school, and a strict guard + kept over you; so you will stand no chance of ever seeing the smart young + officer again.” + </p> + <p> + “I should not like to leave school yet,” replied Charlotte, “till I have + attained a greater proficiency in my Italian and music. But you can, if + you please, Mademoiselle, take the letter back to Montraville, and tell + him I wish him well, but cannot, with any propriety, enter into a + clandestine correspondence with him.” She laid the letter on the table, + and began to undress herself. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said La Rue, “I vow you are an unaccountable girl: have you no + curiosity to see the inside now? for my part I could no more let a letter + addressed to me lie unopened so long, than I could work miracles: he + writes a good hand,” continued she, turning the letter, to look at the + superscription. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis well enough,” said Charlotte, drawing it towards her. + </p> + <p> + “He is a genteel young fellow,” said La Rue carelessly, folding up her + apron at the same time; “but I think he is marked with the small pox.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh you are greatly mistaken,” said Charlotte eagerly; “he has a + remarkable clear skin and fine complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “His eyes, if I could judge by what I saw,” said La Rue, “are grey and + want expression.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” replied Charlotte; “they are the most expressive eyes I + ever saw.” “Well, child, whether they are grey or black is of no + consequence: you have determined not to read his letter; so it is likely + you will never either see or hear from him again.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte took up the letter, and Mademoiselle continued— + </p> + <p> + “He is most probably going to America; and if ever you should hear any + account of him, it may possibly be that he is killed; and though he loved + you ever so fervently, though his last breath should be spent in a prayer + for your happiness, it can be nothing to you: you can feel nothing for the + fate of the man, whose letters you will not open, and whose sufferings you + will not alleviate, by permitting him to think you would remember him when + absent, and pray for his safety.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte still held the letter in her hand: her heart swelled at the + conclusion of Mademoiselle's speech, and a tear dropped upon the wafer + that closed it. + </p> + <p> + “The wafer is not dry yet,” said she, “and sure there can be no great harm—” + She hesitated. La Rue was silent. “I may read it, Mademoiselle, and return + it afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied Mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate I am determined not to answer it,” continued Charlotte, as + she opened the letter. + </p> + <p> + Here let me stop to make one remark, and trust me my very heart aches + while I write it; but certain I am, that when once a woman has stifled the + sense of shame in her own bosom, when once she has lost sight of the basis + on which reputation, honour, every thing that should be dear to the female + heart, rests, she grows hardened in guilt, and will spare no pains to + bring down innocence and beauty to the shocking level with herself: and + this proceeds from that diabolical spirit of envy, which repines at seeing + another in the full possession of that respect and esteem which she can no + longer hope to enjoy. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle eyed the unsuspecting Charlotte, as she perused the letter, + with a malignant pleasure. She saw, that the contents had awakened new + emotions in her youthful bosom: she encouraged her hopes, calmed her + fears, and before they parted for the night, it was determined that she + should meet Montraville the ensuing evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <h3> + DOMESTIC PLEASURES PLANNED. + </h3> + <p> + “I THINK, my dear,” said Mrs. Temple, laying her hand on her husband's arm + as they were walking together in the garden, “I think next Wednesday is + Charlotte's birth day: now I have formed a little scheme in my own mind, + to give her an agreeable surprise; and if you have no objection, we will + send for her home on that day.” Temple pressed his wife's hand in token of + approbation, and she proceeded.—“You know the little alcove at the + bottom of the garden, of which Charlotte is so fond? I have an inclination + to deck this out in a fanciful manner, and invite all her little friends + to partake of a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, and other things suitable + to the general taste of young guests; and to make it more pleasing to + Charlotte, she shall be mistress of the feast, and entertain her visitors + in this alcove. I know she will be delighted; and to complete all, they + shall have some music, and finish with a dance.” + </p> + <p> + “A very fine plan, indeed,” said Temple, smiling; “and you really suppose + I will wink at your indulging the girl in this manner? You will quite + spoil her, Lucy; indeed you will.” + </p> + <p> + “She is the only child we have,” said Mrs. Temple, the whole tenderness of + a mother adding animation to her fine countenance; but it was withal + tempered so sweetly with the meek affection and submissive duty of the + wife, that as she paused expecting her husband's answer, he gazed at her + tenderly, and found he was unable to refuse her request. + </p> + <p> + “She is a good girl,” said Temple. + </p> + <p> + “She is, indeed,” replied the fond mother exultingly, “a grateful, + affectionate girl; and I am sure will never lose sight of the duty she + owes her parents.” + </p> + <p> + “If she does,” said he, “she must forget the example set her by the best + of mothers.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Temple could not reply; but the delightful sensation that dilated her + heart sparkled in her intelligent eyes and heightened the vermillion on + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Of all the pleasures of which the human mind is sensible, there is none + equal to that which warms and expands the bosom, when listening to + commendations bestowed on us by a beloved object, and are conscious of + having deserved them. + </p> + <p> + Ye giddy flutterers in the fantastic round of dissipation, who eagerly + seek pleasure in the lofty dome, rich treat, and midnight revel—tell + me, ye thoughtless daughters of folly, have ye ever found the phantom you + have so long sought with such unremitted assiduity? Has she not always + eluded your grasp, and when you have reached your hand to take the cup she + extends to her deluded votaries, have you not found the long-expected + draught strongly tinctured with the bitter dregs of disappointment? I know + you have: I see it in the wan cheek, sunk eye, and air of chagrin, which + ever mark the children of dissipation. Pleasure is a vain illusion; she + draws you on to a thousand follies, errors, and I may say vices, and then + leaves you to deplore your thoughtless credulity. + </p> + <p> + Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white robe + devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, the modesty of + her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, Conjugal Affection, + Industry, and Benevolence; her name is CONTENT; she holds in her hand the + cup of true felicity, and when once you have formed an intimate + acquaintance with these her attendants, nay you must admit them as your + bosom friends and chief counsellors, then, whatever may be your situation + in life, the meek eyed Virgin wig immediately take up her abode with you. + </p> + <p> + Is poverty your portion?—she will lighten your labours, preside at + your frugal board, and watch your quiet slumbers. + </p> + <p> + Is your state mediocrity?—she will heighten every blessing you + enjoy, by informing you how grateful you should be to that bountiful + Providence who might have placed you in the most abject situation; and, by + teaching you to weigh your blessings against your deserts, show you how + much more you receive than you have a right to expect. + </p> + <p> + Are you possessed of affluence?—what an inexhaustible fund of + happiness will she lay before you! To relieve the distressed, redress the + injured, in short, to perform all the good works of peace and mercy. + </p> + <p> + Content, my dear friends, will blunt even the arrows of adversity, so that + they cannot materially harm you. She will dwell in the humblest cottage; + she will attend you even to a prison. Her parent is Religion; her sisters, + Patience and Hope. She will pass with you through life, smoothing the + rough paths and tread to earth those thorns which every one must meet with + as they journey onward to the appointed goal. She will soften the pains of + sickness, continue with you even in the cold gloomy hour of death, and, + cheating you with the smiles of her heaven-born sister, Hope, lead you + triumphant to a blissful eternity. + </p> + <p> + I confess I have rambled strangely from my story: but what of that? if I + have been so lucky as to find the road to happiness, why should I be such + a niggard as to omit so good an opportunity of pointing out the way to + others. The very basis of true peace of mind is a benevolent wish to see + all the world as happy as one's Self; and from my soul do I pity the + selfish churl, who, remembering the little bickerings of anger, envy, and + fifty other disagreeables to which frail mortality is subject, would wish + to revenge the affront which pride whispers him he has received. For my + own part, I can safely declare, there is not a human being in the + universe, whose prosperity I should not rejoice in, and to whose happiness + I would not contribute to the utmost limit of my power: and may my + offences be no more remembered in the day of general retribution, than as + from my soul I forgive every offence or injury received from a fellow + creature. + </p> + <p> + Merciful heaven! who would exchange the rapture of such a reflexion for + all the gaudy tinsel which the world calls pleasure! + </p> + <p> + But to return.—Content dwelt in Mrs. Temple's bosom, and spread a + charming animation over her countenance, as her husband led her in, to lay + the plan she had formed (for the celebration of Charlotte's birth day,) + before Mr. Eldridge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <h3> + WE KNOW NOT WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. + </h3> + <p> + VARIOUS were the sensations which agitated the mind of Charlotte, during + the day preceding the evening in which she was to meet Montraville. + Several times did she almost resolve to go to her governess, show her the + letter, and be guided by her advice: but Charlotte had taken one step in + the ways of imprudence; and when that is once done, there are always + innumerable obstacles to prevent the erring person returning to the path + of rectitude: yet these obstacles, however forcible they may appear in + general, exist chiefly in imagination. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte feared the anger of her governess: she loved her mother, and the + very idea of incurring her displeasure, gave her the greatest uneasiness: + but there was a more forcible reason still remaining: should she show the + letter to Madame Du Pont, she must confess the means by which it came into + her possession; and what would be the consequence? Mademoiselle would be + turned out of doors. + </p> + <p> + “I must not be ungrateful,” said she. “La Rue is very kind to me; besides + I can, when I see Montraville, inform him of the impropriety of our + continuing to see or correspond with each other, and request him to come + no more to Chichester.” + </p> + <p> + However prudent Charlotte might be in these resolutions, she certainly did + not take a proper method to confirm herself in them. Several times in the + course of the day, she indulged herself in reading over the letter, and + each time she read it, the contents sunk deeper in her heart. As evening + drew near, she caught herself frequently consulting her watch. “I wish + this foolish meeting was over,” said she, by way of apology to her own + heart, “I wish it was over; for when I have seen him, and convinced him my + resolution is not to be shaken, I shall feel my mind much easier.” + </p> + <p> + The appointed hour arrived. Charlotte and Mademoiselle eluded the eye of + vigilance; and Montraville, who had waited their coming with impatience, + received them with rapturous and unbounded acknowledgments for their + condescension: he had wisely brought Belcour with him to entertain + Mademoiselle, while he enjoyed an uninterrupted conversation with + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + Belcour was a man whose character might be comprised in a few words; and + as he will make some figure in the ensuing pages, I shall here describe + him. He possessed a genteel fortune, and had a liberal education; + dissipated, thoughtless, and capricious, he paid little regard to the + moral duties, and less to religious ones: eager in the pursuit of + pleasure, he minded not the miseries he inflicted on others, provided his + own wishes, however extravagant, were gratified. Self, darling self, was + the idol he worshipped, and to that he would have sacrificed the interest + and happiness of all mankind. Such was the friend of Montraville: will not + the reader be ready to imagine, that the man who could regard such a + character, must be actuated by the same feelings, follow the same + pursuits, and be equally unworthy with the person to whom he thus gave his + confidence? + </p> + <p> + But Montraville was a different character: generous in his disposition, + liberal in his opinions, and good-natured almost to a fault; yet eager and + impetuous in the pursuit of a favorite object, he staid not to reflect on + the consequence which might follow the attainment of his wishes; with a + mind ever open to conviction, had he been so fortunate as to possess a + friend who would have pointed out the cruelty of endeavouring to gain the + heart of an innocent artless girl, when he knew it was utterly impossible + for him to marry her, and when the gratification of his passion would be + unavoidable infamy and misery to her, and a cause of never-ceasing remorse + to himself: had these dreadful consequences been placed before him in a + proper light, the humanity of his nature would have urged him to give up + the pursuit: but Belcour was not this friend; he rather encouraged the + growing passion of Montraville; and being pleased with the vivacity of + Mademoiselle, resolved to leave no argument untried, which he thought + might prevail on her to be the companion of their intended voyage; and he + made no doubt but her example, added to the rhetoric of Montraville, would + persuade Charlotte to go with them. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte had, when she went out to meet Montraville, flattered herself + that her resolution was not to be shaken, and that, conscious of the + impropriety of her conduct in having a clandestine intercourse with a + stranger, she would never repeat the indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + But alas! poor Charlotte, she knew not the deceitfulness of her own heart, + or she would have avoided the trial of her stability. + </p> + <p> + Montraville was tender, eloquent, ardent, and yet respectful. “Shall I not + see you once more,” said he, “before I leave England? will you not bless + me by an assurance, that when we are divided by a vast expanse of sea I + shall not be forgotten?” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why that sigh, my dear Charlotte? could I flatter myself that a fear for + my safety, or a wish for my welfare occasioned it, how happy would it make + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall ever wish you well, Montraville,” said she; “but we must meet no + more.” “Oh say not so, my lovely girl: reflect, that when I leave my + native land, perhaps a few short weeks may terminate my existence; the + perils of the ocean—the dangers of war—” + </p> + <p> + “I can hear no more,” said Charlotte in a tremulous voice. “I must leave + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Say you will see me once again.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Only for one half hour to-morrow evening: 'tis my last request. I shall + never trouble you again, Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + “I know not what to say,” cried Charlotte, struggling to draw her hands + from him: “let me leave you now.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will come to-morrow,” said Montraville. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I may,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu then. I will live upon that hope till we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her hand. She sighed an adieu, and catching hold of + Mademoiselle's arm, hastily entered the garden gate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <p> + WHEN WE HAVE EXCITED CURIOSITY, IT IS BUT AN ACT OF GOOD NATURE TO GRATIFY + IT. + </p> + <p> + MONTRAVILLE was the youngest son of a gentleman of fortune, whose family + being numerous, he was obliged to bring up his sons to genteel + professions, by the exercise of which they might hope to raise themselves + into notice. + </p> + <p> + “My daughters,” said he, “have been educated like gentlewomen; and should + I die before they are settled, they must have some provision made, to + place them above the snares and temptations which vice ever holds out to + the elegant, accomplished female, when oppressed by the frowns of poverty + and the sting of dependance: my boys, with only moderate incomes, when + placed in the church, at the bar, or in the field, may exert their + talents, make themselves friends, and raise their fortunes on the basis of + merit.” + </p> + <p> + When Montraville chose the profession of arms, his father presented him + with a commission, and made him a handsome provision for his private + purse. “Now, my boy,” said he, “go! seek glory in the field of battle. You + have received from me all I shall ever have it in my power to bestow: it + is certain I have interest to gain you promotion; but be assured that + interest shall never be exerted, unless by your future conduct you deserve + it. Remember, therefore, your success in life depends entirely on + yourself. There is one thing I think it my duty to caution you against; + the precipitancy with which young men frequently rush into matrimonial + engagements, and by their thoughtlessness draw many a deserving woman into + scenes of poverty and distress. A soldier has no business to think of a + wife till his rank is such as to place him above the fear of bringing into + the world a train of helpless innocents, heirs only to penury and + affliction. If, indeed, a woman, whose fortune is sufficient to preserve + you in that state of independence I would teach you to prize, should + generously bestow herself on a young soldier, whose chief hope of future + prosperity depended on his success in the field—if such a woman + should offer—every barrier is removed, and I should rejoice in an + union which would promise so much felicity. But mark me, boy, if, on the + contrary, you rush into a precipitate union with a girl of little or no + fortune, take the poor creature from a comfortable home and kind friends, + and plunge her into all the evils a narrow income and increasing family + can inflict, I will leave you to enjoy the blessed fruits of your + rashness; for by all that is sacred, neither my interest or fortune shall + ever be exerted in your favour. I am serious,” continued he, “therefore + imprint this conversation on your memory, and let it influence your future + conduct. Your happiness will always be dear to me; and I wish to warn you + of a rock on which the peace of many an honest fellow has been wrecked; + for believe me, the difficulties and dangers of the longest winter + campaign are much easier to be borne, than the pangs that would seize your + heart, when you beheld the woman of your choice, the children of your + affection, involved in penury and distress, and reflected that it was your + own folly and precipitancy had been the prime cause of their sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + As this conversation passed but a few hours before Montraville took leave + of his father, it was deeply impressed on his mind: when, therefore, + Belcour came with him to the place of assignation with Charlotte, he + directed him to enquire of the French woman what were Miss Temple's + expectations in regard to fortune. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle informed him, that though Charlotte's father possessed a + genteel independence, it was by no means probable that he could give his + daughter more than a thousand pounds; and in case she did not marry to his + liking, it was possible he might not give her a single SOUS; nor did it + appear the least likely, that Mr. Temple would agree to her union with a + young man on the point of embarking for the feat of war. + </p> + <p> + Montraville therefore concluded it was impossible he should ever marry + Charlotte Temple; and what end he proposed to himself by continuing the + acquaintance he had commenced with her, he did not at that moment give + himself time to enquire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <h3> + CONFLICT OF LOVE AND DUTY. + </h3> + <p> + ALMOST a week was now gone, and Charlotte continued every evening to meet + Montraville, and in her heart every meeting was resolved to be the last; + but alas! when Montraville at parting would earnestly intreat one more + interview, that treacherous heart betrayed her; and, forgetful of its + resolution, pleaded the cause of the enemy so powerfully, that Charlotte + was unable to resist. Another and another meeting succeeded; and so well + did Montraville improve each opportunity, that the heedless girl at length + confessed no idea could be so painful to her as that of never seeing him + again. + </p> + <p> + “Then we will never be parted,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Montraville,” replied Charlotte, forcing a smile, “how can it be + avoided? My parents would never consent to our union; and even could they + be brought to approve it, how should I bear to be separated from my kind, + my beloved mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you love your parents more than you do me, Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I do,” said she, blushing and looking down, “I hope my affection + for them will ever keep me from infringing the laws of filial duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Charlotte,” said Montraville gravely, and letting go her hand, + “since that is the case, I find I have deceived myself with fallacious + hopes. I had flattered my fond heart, that I was dearer to Charlotte than + any thing in the world beside. I thought that you would for my sake have + braved the dangers of the ocean, that you would, by your affection and + smiles, have softened the hardships of war, and, had it been my fate to + fall, that your tenderness would cheer the hour of death, and smooth my + passage to another world. But farewel, Charlotte! I see you never loved + me. I shall now welcome the friendly ball that deprives me of the sense of + my misery.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh stay, unkind Montraville,” cried she, catching hold of his arm, as he + pretended to leave her, “stay, and to calm your fears, I will here protest + that was it not for the fear of giving pain to the best of parents, and + returning their kindness with ingratitude, I would follow you through + every danger, and, in studying to promote your happiness, insure my own. + But I cannot break my mother's heart, Montraville; I must not bring the + grey hairs of my doating grand-father with sorrow to the grave, or make my + beloved father perhaps curse the hour that gave me birth.” She covered her + face with her hands, and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “All these distressing scenes, my dear Charlotte,” cried Montraville, “are + merely the chimeras of a disturbed fancy. Your parents might perhaps + grieve at first; but when they heard from your own hand that you was with + a man of honour, and that it was to insure your felicity by an union with + him, to which you feared they would never have given their assent, that + you left their protection, they will, be assured, forgive an error which + love alone occasioned, and when we return from America, receive you with + open arms and tears of joy.” + </p> + <p> + Belcour and Mademoiselle heard this last speech, and conceiving it a + proper time to throw in their advice and persuasions, approached + Charlotte, and so well seconded the entreaties of Montraville, that + finding Mademoiselle intended going with Belcour, and feeling her own + treacherous heart too much inclined to accompany them, the hapless + Charlotte, in an evil hour, consented that the next evening they should + bring a chaise to the end of the town, and that she would leave her + friends, and throw herself entirely on the protection of Montraville. “But + should you,” said she, looking earnestly at him, her eyes full of tears, + “should you, forgetful of your promises, and repenting the engagements you + here voluntarily enter into, forsake and leave me on a foreign shore—” + “Judge not so meanly of me,” said he. “The moment we reach our place of + destination, Hymen shall sanctify our love; and when I shall forget your + goodness, may heaven forget me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Charlotte, leaning on Mademoiselle's arm as they walked up the + garden together, “I have forgot all that I ought to have remembered, in + consenting to this intended elopement.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a strange girl,” said Mademoiselle: “you never know your own mind + two minutes at a time. Just now you declared Montraville's happiness was + what you prized most in the world; and now I suppose you repent having + insured that happiness by agreeing to accompany him abroad.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I do repent,” replied Charlotte, “from my soul: but while + discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges me + on to ruin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ruin! fiddlestick!” said Mademoiselle; “am I not going with you? and do I + feel any of these qualms?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not renounce a tender father and mother,” said Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “But I hazard my dear reputation,” replied Mademoiselle, bridling. + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Charlotte, “but you do not feel what I do.” She then bade + her good night: but sleep was a stranger to her eyes, and the tear of + anguish watered her pillow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nature's last, best gift: + Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could + To sight or thought be nam'd! + Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet! + How thou art fall'n!— +</pre> + <p> + WHEN Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and pale cheek + discovered to Madame Du Pont the little repose she had tasted. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” said the affectionate governess, “what is the cause of + the languor so apparent in your frame? Are you not well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear Madam, very well,” replied Charlotte, attempting to smile, + “but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last night, and my spirits + are depressed this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Come cheer up, my love,” said the governess; “I believe I have brought a + cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter from your good mama, + and here is one for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words— + </p> + <p> + “As to-morrow is the anniversary of the happy day that gave my beloved + girl to the anxious wishes of a maternal heart, I have requested your + governess to let you come home and spend it with us; and as I know you to + be a good affectionate child, and make it your study to improve in those + branches of education which you know will give most pleasure to your + delighted parents, as a reward for your diligence and attention I have + prepared an agreeable surprise for your reception. Your grand-father, + eager to embrace the darling of his aged heart, will come in the chaise + for you; so hold yourself in readiness to attend him by nine o'clock. Your + dear father joins in every tender wish for your health and future + felicity, which warms the heart of my dear Charlotte's affectionate + mother, L. TEMPLE.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven!” cried Charlotte, forgetting where she was, and raising + her streaming eyes as in earnest supplication. + </p> + <p> + Madame Du Pont was surprised. “Why these tears, my love?” said she. “Why + this seeming agitation? I thought the letter would have rejoiced, instead + of distressing you.” + </p> + <p> + “It does rejoice me,” replied Charlotte, endeavouring at composure, “but I + was praying for merit to deserve the unremitted attentions of the best of + parents.” + </p> + <p> + “You do right,” said Madame Du Pont, “to ask the assistance of heaven that + you may continue to deserve their love. Continue, my dear Charlotte, in + the course you have ever pursued, and you will insure at once their + happiness and your own.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Charlotte, as her governess left her, “I have forfeited both + for ever! Yet let me reflect:—the irrevocable step is not yet taken: + it is not too late to recede from the brink of a precipice, from which I + can only behold the dark abyss of ruin, shame, and remorse!” + </p> + <p> + She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La Rue. “Oh + Mademoiselle!” said she, “I am snatched by a miracle from destruction! + This letter has saved me: it has opened my eyes to the folly I was so near + committing. I will not go, Mademoiselle; I will not wound the hearts of + those dear parents who make my happiness the whole study of their lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mademoiselle, “do as you please, Miss; but pray understand + that my resolution is taken, and it is not in your power to alter it. I + shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed hour, and shall not be surprized + at any outrage which Montraville may commit, when he finds himself + disappointed. Indeed I should not be astonished, was he to come + immediately here, and reproach you for your instability in the hearing of + the whole school: and what will be the consequence? you will bear the + odium of having formed the resolution of eloping, and every girl of spirit + will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in execution, while prudes + and fools will load you with reproach and contempt. You will have lost the + confidence of your parents, incurred their anger, and the scoffs of the + world; and what fruit do you expect to reap from this piece of heroism, + (for such no doubt you think it is?) you will have the pleasure to + reflect, that you have deceived the man who adores you, and whom in your + heart you prefer to all other men, and that you are separated from him for + ever.” + </p> + <p> + This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that Charlotte + could not find an opportunity to interrupt her, or to offer a single word + till the whole was finished, and then found her ideas so confused, that + she knew not what to say. + </p> + <p> + At length she determined that she would go with Mademoiselle to the place + of assignation, convince Montraville of the necessity of adhering to the + resolution of remaining behind; assure him of her affection, and bid him + adieu. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and exulted in the certainty of + its success. “How shall I rejoice,” said she, “in this triumph of reason + over inclination, and, when in the arms of my affectionate parents, lift + up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I look back on the dangers I have + escaped!” + </p> + <p> + The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what money and valuables + she possessed in her pocket, and advised Charlotte to do the same; but she + refused; “my resolution is fixed,” said she; “I will sacrifice love to + duty.” + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they proceeded softly down the back + stairs and out of the garden gate. Montraville and Belcour were ready to + receive them. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his arms, “you are mine for + ever.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said she, withdrawing from his embrace, “I am come to take an + everlasting farewel.” + </p> + <p> + It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued, suffice + it to say, that Montraville used every argument that had formerly been + successful, Charlotte's resolution began to waver, and he drew her almost + imperceptibly towards the chaise. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot go,” said she: “cease, dear Montraville, to persuade. I must + not: religion, duty, forbid.” + </p> + <p> + “Cruel Charlotte,” said he, “if you disappoint my ardent hopes, by all + that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence. I cannot—will + not live without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! my torn heart!” said Charlotte, “how shall I act?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me direct you,” said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear forsaken parents!” cried Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms of her + betrayer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <h3> + CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT. + </h3> + <p> + “WHAT pleasure,” cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise to go + for his grand-daughter, “what pleasure expands the heart of an old man + when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child growing up in every virtue + that adorned the minds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some few years + since, that every sense of joy was buried in the graves of my dear partner + and my son; but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed my soul to + peace, and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my heart, and + opened such new scenes of delight to my view, that I almost forget I have + ever been unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + When the chaise stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth; so much + do the emotions of the soul influence the body. + </p> + <p> + It was half past eight o'clock; the ladies were assembled in the school + room, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer the morning sacrifice of + prayer and praise, when it was discovered, that Mademoiselle and Charlotte + were missing. + </p> + <p> + “She is busy, no doubt,” said the governess, “in preparing Charlotte for + her little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget our duty to + our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers.” + </p> + <p> + The lady who went to summon them, soon returned, and informed the + governess, that the room was locked, and that she had knocked repeatedly, + but obtained no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven!” cried Madame Du Pont, “this is very strange:” and turning + pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, and ordered it to be + forced open. The apartment instantly discovered, that no person had been + in it the preceding night, the beds appearing as though just made. The + house was instantly a scene of confusion: the garden, the pleasure grounds + were searched to no purpose, every apartment rang with the names of Miss + Temple and Mademoiselle; but they were too distant to hear; and every face + wore the marks of disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlour, eagerly expecting his + grand-daughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: he heard the + confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name of Charlotte + frequently repeated. “What can be the matter?” said he, rising and opening + the door: “I fear some accident has befallen my dear girl.” + </p> + <p> + The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance discovered + that something extraordinary had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Charlotte?” said he, “Why does not my child come to welcome her + doating parent?” + </p> + <p> + “Be composed, my dear Sir,” said Madame Du Pont, “do not frighten yourself + unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; but as Mademoiselle is + undoubtedly with her, she will speedily return in safety; and I hope they + will both be able to account for this unseasonable absence in such a + manner as shall remove our present uneasiness.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” cried the old man, with an angry look, “has my child been + accustomed to go out without leave, with no other company or protector + than that French woman. Pardon me, Madam, I mean no reflections on your + country, but I never did like Mademoiselle La Rue; I think she was a very + improper person to be entrusted with the care of such a girl as Charlotte + Temple, or to be suffered to take her from under your immediate + protection.” + </p> + <p> + “You wrong me, Mr. Eldridge,” replied she, “if you suppose I have ever + permitted your grand-daughter to go out unless with the other ladies. I + would to heaven I could form any probable conjecture concerning her + absence this morning, but it is a mystery which her return can alone + unravel.” Servants were now dispatched to every place where there was the + least hope of hearing any tidings of the fugitives, but in vain. Dreadful + were the hours of horrid suspense which Mr. Eldridge passed till twelve + o'clock, when that suspense was reduced to a shocking certainty, and every + spark of hope which till then they had indulged, was in a moment + extinguished. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Eldridge was preparing, with a heavy heart, to return to his + anxiously-expecting children, when Madame Du Pont received the following + note without either name or date. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Temple is well, and wishes to relieve the anxiety of her parents, by + letting them know she has voluntarily put herself under the protection of + a man whose future study shall be to make her happy. Pursuit is needless; + the measures taken to avoid discovery are too effectual to be eluded. When + she thinks her friends are reconciled to this precipitate step, they may + perhaps be informed of her place of residence. Mademoiselle is with her.” + </p> + <p> + As Madame Du Pont read these cruel lines, she turned pale as ashes, her + limbs trembled, and she was forced to call for a glass of water. She loved + Charlotte truly; and when she reflected on the innocence and gentleness of + her disposition, she concluded that it must have been the advice and + machinations of La Rue, which led her to this imprudent action; she + recollected her agitation at the receipt of her mother's letter, and saw + in it the conflict of her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Does that letter relate to Charlotte?” said Mr. Eldridge, having waited + some time in expectation of Madame Du Pont's speaking. + </p> + <p> + “It does,” said she. “Charlotte is well, but cannot return today.” + </p> + <p> + “Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from her fond, + expecting parents?” + </p> + <p> + “You distract me with these questions, Mr. Eldridge. Indeed I know not + where she is, or who has seduced her from her duty.” + </p> + <p> + The whole truth now rushed at once upon Mr. Eldridge's mind. “She has + eloped then,” said he. “My child is betrayed; the darling, the comfort of + my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had died but yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + A violent gush of grief in some measure relieved him, and, after several + vain attempts, he at length assumed sufficient composure to read the note. + </p> + <p> + “And how shall I return to my children?” said he: “how approach that + mansion, so late the habitation of peace? Alas! my dear Lucy, how will you + support these heart-rending tidings? or how shall I be enabled to console + you, who need so much consolation myself?” + </p> + <p> + The old man returned to the chaise, but the light step and cheerful + countenance were no more; sorrow filled his heart, and guided his motions; + he seated himself in the chaise, his venerable head reclined upon his + bosom, his hands were folded, his eye fixed on vacancy, and the large + drops of sorrow rolled silently down his cheeks. There was a mixture of + anguish and resignation depicted in his countenance, as if he would say, + henceforth who shall dare to boast his happiness, or even in idea + contemplate his treasure, lest, in the very moment his heart is exulting + in its own felicity, the object which constitutes that felicity should be + torn from him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <h3> + MATERNAL SORROW. + </h3> + <p> + SLOW and heavy passed the time while the carriage was conveying Mr. + Eldridge home; and yet when he came in sight of the house, he wished a + longer reprieve from the dreadful task of informing Mr. and Mrs. Temple of + their daughter's elopement. + </p> + <p> + It is easy to judge the anxiety of these affectionate parents, when they + found the return of their father delayed so much beyond the expected time. + They were now met in the dining parlour, and several of the young people + who had been invited were already arrived. Each different part of the + company was employed in the same manner, looking out at the windows which + faced the road. At length the long-expected chaise appeared. Mrs. Temple + ran out to receive and welcome her darling: her young companions flocked + round the door, each one eager to give her joy on the return of her + birth-day. The door of the chaise was opened: Charlotte was not there. + “Where is my child?” cried Mrs. Temple, in breathless agitation. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Eldridge could not answer: he took hold of his daughter's hand and led + her into the house; and sinking on the first chair he came to, burst into + tears, and sobbed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “She is dead,” cried Mrs. Temple. “Oh my dear Charlotte!” and clasping her + hands in an agony of distress, fell into strong hysterics. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Temple, who had stood speechless with surprize and fear, now ventured + to enquire if indeed his Charlotte was no more. Mr. Eldridge led him into + another apartment; and putting the fatal note into his hand, cried—“Bear + it like a Christian,” and turned from him, endeavouring to suppress his + own too visible emotions. + </p> + <p> + It would be vain to attempt describing what Mr. Temple felt whilst he + hastily ran over the dreadful lines: when he had finished, the paper dropt + from his unnerved hand. “Gracious heaven!” said he, “could Charlotte act + thus?” Neither tear nor sigh escaped him; and he sat the image of mute + sorrow, till roused from his stupor by the repeated shrieks of Mrs. + Temple. He rose hastily, and rushing into the apartment where she was, + folded his arms about her, and saying—“Let us be patient, my dear + Lucy,” nature relieved his almost bursting heart by a friendly gush of + tears. + </p> + <p> + Should any one, presuming on his own philosophic temper, look with an eye + of contempt on the man who could indulge a woman's weakness, let him + remember that man was a father, and he will then pity the misery which + wrung those drops from a noble, generous heart. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Temple beginning to be a little more composed, but still imagining + her child was dead, her husband, gently taking her hand, cried—“You + are mistaken, my love. Charlotte is not dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Then she is very ill, else why did she not come? But I will go to her: + the chaise is still at the door: let me go instantly to the dear girl. If + I was ill, she would fly to attend me, to alleviate my sufferings, and + cheer me with her love.” + </p> + <p> + “Be calm, my dearest Lucy, and I will tell you all,” said Mr. Temple. “You + must not go, indeed you must not; it will be of no use.” + </p> + <p> + “Temple,” said she, assuming a look of firmness and composure, “tell me + the truth I beseech you. I cannot bear this dreadful suspense. What + misfortune has befallen my child? Let me know the worst, and I will + endeavour to bear it as I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Lucy,” replied Mr. Temple, “imagine your daughter alive, and in no danger + of death: what misfortune would you then dread?” + </p> + <p> + “There is one misfortune which is worse than death. But I know my child + too well to suspect—” + </p> + <p> + “Be not too confident, Lucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh heavens!” said she, “what horrid images do you start: is it possible + she should forget—” + </p> + <p> + “She has forgot us all, my love; she has preferred the love of a stranger + to the affectionate protection of her friends. + </p> + <p> + “Not eloped?” cried she eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Temple was silent. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot contradict it,” said she. “I see my fate in those tearful + eyes. Oh Charlotte! Charlotte! how ill have you requited our tenderness! + But, Father of Mercies,” continued she, sinking on her knees, and raising + her streaming eyes and clasped hands to heaven, “this once vouchsafe to + hear a fond, a distracted mother's prayer. Oh let thy bounteous Providence + watch over and protect the dear thoughtless girl, save her from the + miseries which I fear will be her portion, and oh! of thine infinite + mercy, make her not a mother, lest she should one day feel what I now + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + The last words faultered on her tongue, and she fell fainting into the + arms of her husband, who had involuntarily dropped on his knees beside + her. + </p> + <p> + A mother's anguish, when disappointed in her tenderest hopes, none but a + mother can conceive. Yet, my dear young readers, I would have you read + this scene with attention, and reflect that you may yourselves one day be + mothers. Oh my friends, as you value your eternal happiness, wound not, by + thoughtless ingratitude, the peace of the mother who bore you: remember + the tenderness, the care, the unremitting anxiety with which she has + attended to all your wants and wishes from earliest infancy to the present + day; behold the mild ray of affectionate applause that beams from her eye + on the performance of your duty: listen to her reproofs with silent + attention; they proceed from a heart anxious for your future felicity: you + must love her; nature, all-powerful nature, has planted the seeds of + filial affection in your bosoms. + </p> + <p> + Then once more read over the sorrows of poor Mrs. Temple, and remember, + the mother whom you so dearly love and venerate will feel the same, when + you, forgetful of the respect due to your maker and yourself, forsake the + paths of virtue for those of vice and folly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <h3> + EMBARKATION. + </h3> + <p> + IT was with the utmost difficulty that the united efforts of Mademoiselle + and Montraville could support Charlotte's spirits during their short ride + from Chichester to Portsmouth, where a boat waited to take them + immediately on board the ship in which they were to embark for America. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she became tolerably composed, she entreated pen and ink to + write to her parents. This she did in the most affecting, artless manner, + entreating their pardon and blessing, and describing the dreadful + situation of her mind, the conflict she suffered in endeavouring to + conquer this unfortunate attachment, and concluded with saying, her only + hope of future comfort consisted in the (perhaps delusive) idea she + indulged, of being once more folded in their protecting arms, and hearing + the words of peace and pardon from their lips. + </p> + <p> + The tears streamed incessantly while she was writing, and she was + frequently obliged to lay down her pen: but when the task was completed, + and she had committed the letter to the care of Montraville to be sent to + the post office, she became more calm, and indulging the delightful hope + of soon receiving an answer that would seal her pardon, she in some + measure assumed her usual cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + But Montraville knew too well the consequences that must unavoidably + ensue, should this letter reach Mr. Temple: he therefore wisely resolved + to walk on the deck, tear it in pieces, and commit the fragments to the + care of Neptune, who might or might not, as it suited his convenience, + convey them on shore. + </p> + <p> + All Charlotte's hopes and wishes were now concentred in one, namely that + the fleet might be detained at Spithead till she could receive a letter + from her friends: but in this she was disappointed, for the second morning + after she went on board, the signal was made, the fleet weighed anchor, + and in a few hours (the wind being favourable) they bid adieu to the white + cliffs of Al-bion. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time every enquiry that could be thought of was made by Mr. + and Mrs. Temple; for many days did they indulge the fond hope that she was + merely gone off to be married, and that when the indissoluble knot was + once tied, she would return with the partner she had chosen, and entreat + their blessing and forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + “And shall we not forgive her?” said Mr. Temple. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive her!” exclaimed the mother. “Oh yes, whatever be our errors, is + she not our child? and though bowed to the earth even with shame and + remorse, is it not our duty to raise the poor penitent, and whisper peace + and comfort to her desponding soul? would she but return, with rapture + would I fold her to my heart, and bury every remembrance of her faults in + the dear embrace.” + </p> + <p> + But still day after day passed on, and Charlotte did not appear, nor were + any tidings to be heard of her: yet each rising morning was welcomed by + some new hope—the evening brought with it disappointment. At length + hope was no more; despair usurped her place; and the mansion which was + once the mansion of peace, became the habitation of pale, dejected + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + The cheerful smile that was wont to adorn the face of Mrs. Temple was + fled, and had it not been for the support of unaffected piety, and a + consciousness of having ever set before her child the fairest example, she + must have sunk under this heavy affliction. + </p> + <p> + “Since,” said she, “the severest scrutiny cannot charge me with any breach + of duty to have deserved this severe chastisement, I will bow before the + power who inflicts it with humble resignation to his will; nor shall the + duty of a wife be totally absorbed in the feelings of the mother; I will + endeavour to appear more cheerful, and by appearing in some measure to + have conquered my own sorrow, alleviate the sufferings of my husband, and + rouse him from that torpor into which this misfortune has plunged him. My + father too demands my care and attention: I must not, by a selfish + indulgence of my own grief, forget the interest those two dear objects + take in my happiness or misery: I will wear a smile on my face, though the + thorn rankles in my heart; and if by so doing, I in the smallest degree + contribute to restore their peace of mind, I shall be amply rewarded for + the pain the concealment of my own feelings may occasion.” + </p> + <p> + Thus argued this excellent woman: and in the execution of so laudable a + resolution we shall leave her, to follow the fortunes of the hapless + victim of imprudence and evil counsellors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <h3> + NECESSARY DIGRESSION. + </h3> + <p> + ON board of the ship in which Charlotte and Mademoiselle were embarked, + was an officer of large unincumbered fortune and elevated rank, and whom I + shall call Crayton. + </p> + <p> + He was one of those men, who, having travelled in their youth, pretend to + have contracted a peculiar fondness for every thing foreign, and to hold + in contempt the productions of their own country; and this affected + partiality extended even to the women. + </p> + <p> + With him therefore the blushing modesty and unaffected simplicity of + Charlotte passed unnoticed; but the forward pertness of La Rue, the + freedom of her conversation, the elegance of her person, mixed with a + certain engaging JE NE SAIS QUOI, perfectly enchanted him. + </p> + <p> + The reader no doubt has already developed the character of La Rue: + designing, artful, and selfish, she had accepted the devoirs of Belcour + because she was heartily weary of the retired life she led at the school, + wished to be released from what she deemed a slavery, and to return to + that vortex of folly and dissipation which had once plunged her into the + deepest misery; but her plan she flattered herself was now better formed: + she resolved to put herself under the protection of no man till she had + first secured a settlement; but the clandestine manner in which she left + Madame Du Pont's prevented her putting this plan in execution, though + Belcour solemnly protested he would make her a handsome settlement the + moment they arrived at Portsmouth. This he afterwards contrived to evade + by a pretended hurry of business; La Rue readily conceiving he never meant + to fulfil his promise, determined to change her battery, and attack the + heart of Colonel Crayton. She soon discovered the partiality he + entertained for her nation; and having imposed on him a feigned tale of + distress, representing Belcour as a villain who had seduced her from her + friends under promise of marriage, and afterwards betrayed her, pretending + great remorse for the errors she had committed, and declaring whatever her + affection for Belcour might have been, it was now entirely extinguished, + and she wished for nothing more than an opportunity to leave a course of + life which her soul abhorred; but she had no friends to apply to, they had + all renounced her, and guilt and misery would undoubtedly be her future + portion through life. + </p> + <p> + Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities, though the peculiar trait + in his character, which we have already mentioned, in a great measure + threw a shade over them. He was beloved for his humanity and benevolence + by all who knew him, but he was easy and unsuspicious himself, and became + a dupe to the artifice of others. + </p> + <p> + He was, when very young, united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps + it was his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality + he ever retained for the whole nation. He had by her one daughter, who + entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. This + lady was universally beloved and admired, being endowed with all the + virtues of her mother, without the weakness of the father: she was married + to Major Beauchamp, and was at this time in the same fleet with her + father, attending her husband to New-York. + </p> + <p> + Crayton was melted by the affected contrition and distress of La Rue: he + would converse with her for hours, read to her, play cards with her, + listen to all her complaints, and promise to protect her to the utmost of + his power. La Rue easily saw his character; her sole aim was to awaken a + passion in his bosom that might turn out to her advantage, and in this aim + she was but too successful, for before the voyage was finished, the + infatuated Colonel gave her from under his hand a promise of marriage on + their arrival at New-York, under forfeiture of five thousand pounds. + </p> + <p> + And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious and + tempestuous passage? naturally delicate, the fatigue and sickness which + she endured rendered her so weak as to be almost entirely confined to her + bed: yet the kindness and attention of Montraville in some measure + contributed to alleviate her sufferings, and the hope of hearing from her + friends soon after her arrival, kept up her spirits, and cheered many a + gloomy hour. + </p> + <p> + But during the voyage a great revolution took place not only in the + fortune of La Rue but in the bosom of Belcour: whilst in pursuit of his + amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended little to the interesting, + inobtrusive charms of Charlotte, but when, cloyed by possession, and + disgusted with the art and dissimulation of one, he beheld the simplicity + and gentleness of the other, the contrast became too striking not to fill + him at once with surprise and admiration. He frequently conversed with + Charlotte; he found her sensible, well informed, but diffident and + unassuming. The languor which the fatigue of her body and perturbation of + her mind spread over her delicate features, served only in his opinion to + render her more lovely: he knew that Montraville did not design to marry + her, and he formed a resolution to endeavour to gain her himself whenever + Montraville should leave her. + </p> + <p> + Let not the reader imagine Belcour's designs were honourable. Alas! when + once a woman has forgot the respect due to herself, by yielding to the + solicitations of illicit love, they lose all their consequence, even in + the eyes of the man whose art has betrayed them, and for whose sake they + have sacrificed every valuable consideration. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys, + A man may pity—but he must despise. +</pre> + <p> + Nay, every libertine will think he has a right to insult her with his + licentious passion; and should the unhappy creature shrink from the + insolent overture, he will sneeringly taunt her with pretence of modesty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <h3> + A WEDDING. + </h3> + <p> + ON the day before their arrival at New-York, after dinner, Crayton arose + from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, thus addressed the + company— + </p> + <p> + “As we are now nearly arrived at our destined port, I think it but my duty + to inform you, my friends, that this lady,” (taking her hand,) “has placed + herself under my protection. I have seen and severely felt the anguish of + her heart, and through every shade which cruelty or malice may throw over + her, can discover the most amiable qualities. I thought it but necessary + to mention my esteem for her before our disembarkation, as it is my fixed + resolution, the morning after we land, to give her an undoubted title to + my favour and protection by honourably uniting my fate to hers. I would + wish every gentleman here therefore to remember that her honour henceforth + is mine, and,” continued he, looking at Belcour, “should any man presume + to speak in the least disrespectfully of her, I shall not hesitate to + pronounce him a scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bowing profoundly low, wished + Mademoiselle much joy in the proposed union; and assuring the Colonel that + he need not be in the least apprehensive of any one throwing the least + odium on the character of his lady, shook him by the hand with ridiculous + gravity, and left the cabin. + </p> + <p> + The truth was, he was glad to be rid of La Rue, and so he was but freed + from her, he cared not who fell a victim to her infamous arts. + </p> + <p> + The inexperienced Charlotte was astonished at what she heard. She thought + La Rue had, like herself, only been urged by the force of her attachment + to Belcour, to quit her friends, and follow him to the feat of war: how + wonderful then, that she should resolve to marry another man. It was + certainly extremely wrong. It was indelicate. She mentioned her thoughts + to Montraville. He laughed at her simplicity, called her a little idiot, + and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of the world. “If the + world sanctifies such things, 'tis a very bad world I think,” said + Charlotte. “Why I always understood they were to have been married when + they arrived at New-York. I am sure Mademoiselle told me Belcour promised + to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and suppose he did?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he should be obliged to keep his word I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I suppose he has changed his mind,” said Montraville, “and then + you know the case is altered.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment. A full sense of her own + situation rushed upon her mind. She burst into tears, and remained silent. + Montraville too well understood the cause of her tears. He kissed her + cheek, and bidding her not make herself uneasy, unable to bear the silent + but keen remonstrance, hastily left her. + </p> + <p> + The next morning by sun-rise they found themselves at anchor before the + city of New-York. A boat was ordered to convey the ladies on shore. + Crayton accompanied them; and they were shewn to a house of public + entertainment. Scarcely were they seated when the door opened, and the + Colonel found himself in the arms of his daughter, who had landed a few + minutes before him. The first transport of meeting subsided, Crayton + introduced his daughter to Mademoiselle La Rue, as an old friend of her + mother's, (for the artful French woman had really made it appear to the + credulous Colonel that she was in the same convent with his first wife, + and, though much younger, had received many tokens of her esteem and + regard.) + </p> + <p> + “If, Mademoiselle,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “you were the friend of my + mother, you must be worthy the esteem of all good hearts.” “Mademoiselle + will soon honour our family,” said Crayton, “by supplying the place that + valuable woman filled: and as you are married, my dear, I think you will + not blame—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, my dear Sir,” replied Mrs. Beauchamp: “I know my duty too well to + scrutinize your conduct. Be assured, my dear father, your happiness is + mine. I shall rejoice in it, and sincerely love the person who contributes + to it. But tell me,” continued she, turning to Charlotte, “who is this + lovely girl? Is she your sister, Mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + A blush, deep as the glow of the carnation, suffused the cheeks of + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “It is a young lady,” replied the Colonel, “who came in the same vessel + with us from England.' He then drew his daughter aside, and told her in a + whisper, Charlotte was the mistress of Montraville. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity!” said Mrs. Beauchamp softly, (casting a most compassionate + glance at her.) “But surely her mind is not depraved. The goodness of her + heart is depicted in her ingenuous countenance.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte caught the word pity. “And am I already fallen so low?” said + she. A sigh escaped her, and a tear was ready to start, but Montraville + appeared, and she checked the rising emotion. Mademoiselle went with the + Colonel and his daughter to another apartment. Charlotte remained with + Montraville and Belcour. The next morning the Colonel performed his + promise, and La Rue became in due form Mrs. Crayton, exulted in her own + good fortune, and dared to look with an eye of contempt on the unfortunate + but far less guilty Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VOLUME II + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <h3> + REFLECTIONS. + </h3> + <p> + “AND am I indeed fallen so low,” said Charlotte, “as to be only pitied? + Will the voice of approbation no more meet my ear? and shall I never again + possess a friend, whose face will wear a smile of joy whenever I approach? + Alas! how thoughtless, how dreadfully imprudent have I been! I know not + which is most painful to endure, the sneer of contempt, or the glance of + compassion, which is depicted in the various countenances of my own sex: + they are both equally humiliating. Ah! my dear parents, could you now see + the child of your affections, the daughter whom you so dearly loved, a + poor solitary being, without society, here wearing out her heavy hours in + deep regret and anguish of heart, no kind friend of her own sex to whom + she can unbosom her griefs, no beloved mother, no woman of character will + appear in my company, and low as your Charlotte is fallen, she cannot + associate with infamy.” + </p> + <p> + These were the painful reflections which occupied the mind of Charlotte. + Montraville had placed her in a small house a few miles from New-York: he + gave her one female attendant, and supplied her with what money she + wanted; but business and pleasure so entirely occupied his time, that he + had little to devote to the woman, whom he had brought from all her + connections, and robbed of innocence. Sometimes, indeed, he would steal + out at the close of evening, and pass a few hours with her; and then so + much was she attached to him, that all her sorrows were forgotten while + blest with his society: she would enjoy a walk by moonlight, or sit by him + in a little arbour at the bottom of the garden, and play on the harp, + accompanying it with her plaintive, harmonious voice. But often, very + often, did he promise to renew his visits, and, forgetful of his promise, + leave her to mourn her disappointment. What painful hours of expectation + would she pass! She would sit at a window which looked toward a field he + used to cross, counting the minutes, and straining her eyes to catch the + first glimpse of his person, till blinded with tears of disappointment, + she would lean her head on her hands, and give free vent to her sorrows: + then catching at some new hope, she would again renew her watchful + position, till the shades of evening enveloped every object in a dusky + cloud: she would then renew her complaints, and, with a heart bursting + with disappointed love and wounded sensibility, retire to a bed which + remorse had strewed with thorns, and court in vain that comforter of weary + nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) to come and steep her senses in + oblivion. + </p> + <p> + Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind of + Charlotte? The wife, whose breast glows with affection to her husband, and + who in return meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive her + anguish. Dreadfully painful is the situation of such a woman, but she has + many comforts of which our poor Charlotte was deprived. The duteous, + faithful wife, though treated with indifference, has one solid pleasure + within her own bosom, she can reflect that she has not deserved neglect—that + she has ever fulfilled the duties of her station with the strictest + exactness; she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted attention, + to recall her wanderer, and be doubly happy in his returning affection; + she knows he cannot leave her to unite himself to another: he cannot cast + her out to poverty and contempt; she looks around her, and sees the smile + of friendly welcome, or the tear of affectionate consolation, on the face + of every person whom she favours with her esteem; and from all these + circumstances she gathers comfort: but the poor girl by thoughtless + passion led astray, who, in parting with her honour, has forfeited the + esteem of the very man to whom she has sacrificed every thing dear and + valuable in life, feels his indifference in the fruit of her own folly, + and laments her want of power to recall his lost affection; she knows + there is no tie but honour, and that, in a man who has been guilty of + seduction, is but very feeble: he may leave her in a moment to shame and + want; he may marry and forsake her for ever; and should he, she has no + redress, no friendly, soothing companion to pour into her wounded mind the + balm of consolation, no benevolent hand to lead her back to the path of + rectitude; she has disgraced her friends, forfeited the good opinion of + the world, and undone herself; she feels herself a poor solitary being in + the midst of surrounding multitudes; shame bows her to the earth, remorse + tears her distracted mind, and guilt, poverty, and disease close the + dreadful scene: she sinks unnoticed to oblivion. The finger of contempt + may point out to some passing daughter of youthful mirth, the humble bed + where lies this frail sister of mortality; and will she, in the unbounded + gaiety of her heart, exult in her own unblemished fame, and triumph over + the silent ashes of the dead? Oh no! has she a heart of sensibility, she + will stop, and thus address the unhappy victim of folly— + </p> + <p> + “Thou had'st thy faults, but sure thy sufferings have expiated them: thy + errors brought thee to an early grave; but thou wert a fellow-creature—thou + hast been unhappy—then be those errors forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear + will fall, and consecrate the spot to Charity. + </p> + <p> + For ever honoured be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of mercy shall + record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang shall be immortal. + </p> + <p> + My dear Madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. I + mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims + to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many errors we are + ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid in the recesses of + our hearts, which we should blush to have brought into open day (and yet + those faults require the lenity and pity of a benevolent judge, or awful + would be our prospect of futurity) I say, my dear Madam, when we consider + this, we surely may pity the faults of others. + </p> + <p> + Believe me, many an unfortunate female, who has once strayed into the + thorny paths of vice, would gladly return to virtue, was any generous + friend to endeavour to raise and re-assure her; but alas! it cannot be, + you say; the world would deride and scoff. Then let me tell you, Madam, + 'tis a very unfeeling world, and does not deserve half the blessings which + a bountiful Providence showers upon it. + </p> + <p> + Oh, thou benevolent giver of all good! how shall we erring mortals dare to + look up to thy mercy in the great day of retribution, if we now + uncharitably refuse to overlook the errors, or alleviate the miseries, of + our fellow-creatures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <h3> + A MISTAKE DISCOVERED. + </h3> + <p> + JULIA Franklin was the only child of a man of large property, who, at the + age of eighteen, left her independent mistress of an unincumbered income + of seven hundred a year; she was a girl of a lively disposition, and + humane, susceptible heart: she resided in New-York with an uncle, who + loved her too well, and had too high an opinion of her prudence, to + scrutinize her actions so much as would have been necessary with many + young ladies, who were not blest with her discretion: she was, at the time + Montraville arrived at New-York, the life of society, and the universal + toast. Montraville was introduced to her by the following accident. + </p> + <p> + One night when he was upon guard, a dreadful fire broke out near Mr. + Franklin's house, which, in a few hours, reduced that and several others + to ashes; fortunately no lives were lost, and, by the assiduity of the + soldiers, much valuable property was saved from the flames. In the midst + of the confusion an old gentleman came up to Montraville, and, putting a + small box into his hands, cried—“Keep it, my good Sir, till I come + to you again;” and then rushing again into the thickest of the crowd, + Montraville saw him no more. He waited till the fire was quite + extinguished and the mob dispersed; but in vain: the old gentleman did not + appear to claim his property; and Montraville, fearing to make any + enquiry, lest he should meet with impostors who might lay claim, without + any legal right, to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it up: + he naturally imagined, that the person who committed it to his care knew + him, and would, in a day or two, reclaim it; but several weeks passed on, + and no enquiry being made, he began to be uneasy, and resolved to examine + the contents of the box, and if they were, as he supposed, valuable, to + spare no pains to discover, and restore them to the owner. Upon opening + it, he found it contained jewels to a large amount, about two hundred + pounds in money, and a miniature picture set for a bracelet. On examining + the picture, he thought he had somewhere seen features very like it, but + could not recollect where. A few days after, being at a public assembly, + he saw Miss Franklin, and the likeness was too evident to be mistaken: he + enquired among his brother officers if any of them knew her, and found one + who was upon terms of intimacy in the family: “then introduce me to her + immediately,” said he, “for I am certain I can inform her of something + which will give her peculiar pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + He was immediately introduced, found she was the owner of the jewels, and + was invited to breakfast the next morning in order to their restoration. + This whole evening Montraville was honoured with Julia's hand; the lively + sallies of her wit, the elegance of her manner, powerfully charmed him: he + forgot Charlotte, and indulged himself in saying every thing that was + polite and tender to Julia. But on retiring, recollection returned. “What + am I about?” said he: “though I cannot marry Charlotte, I cannot be + villain enough to forsake her, nor must I dare to trifle with the heart of + Julia Franklin. I will return this box,” said he, “which has been the + source of so much uneasiness already, and in the evening pay a visit to my + poor melancholy Charlotte, and endeavour to forget this fascinating + Julia.” + </p> + <p> + He arose, dressed himself, and taking the picture out, “I will reserve + this from the rest,” said he, “and by presenting it to her when she thinks + it is lost, enhance the value of the obligation.” He repaired to Mr. + Franklin's, and found Julia in the breakfast parlour alone. + </p> + <p> + “How happy am I, Madam,” said he, “that being the fortunate instrument of + saving these jewels has been the means of procuring me the acquaintance of + so amiable a lady. There are the jewels and money all safe.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is the picture, Sir?” said Julia. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Madam. I would not willingly part with it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the portrait of my mother,” said she, taking it from him: “'tis all + that remains.” She pressed it to her lips, and a tear trembled in her + eyes. Montraville glanced his eye on her grey night gown and black ribbon, + and his own feelings prevented a reply. + </p> + <p> + Julia Franklin was the very reverse of Charlotte Temple: she was tall, + elegantly shaped, and possessed much of the air and manner of a woman of + fashion; her complexion was a clear brown, enlivened with the glow of + health, her eyes, full, black, and sparkling, darted their intelligent + glances through long silken lashes; her hair was shining brown, and her + features regular and striking; there was an air of innocent gaiety that + played about her countenance, where good humour sat triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “I have been mistaken,” said Montraville. “I imagined I loved Charlotte: + but alas! I am now too late convinced my attachment to her was merely the + impulse of the moment. I fear I have not only entailed lasting misery on + that poor girl, but also thrown a barrier in the way of my own happiness, + which it will be impossible to surmount. I feel I love Julia Franklin with + ardour and sincerity; yet, when in her presence, I am sensible of my own + inability to offer a heart worthy her acceptance, and remain silent.” Full + of these painful thoughts, Montraville walked out to see Charlotte: she + saw him approach, and ran out to meet him: she banished from her + countenance the air of discontent which ever appeared when he was absent, + and met him with a smile of joy. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you had forgot me, Montraville,” said she, “and was very + unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forget you, Charlotte,” he replied, pressing her hand. + </p> + <p> + The uncommon gravity of his countenance, and the brevity of his reply, + alarmed her. + </p> + <p> + “You are not well,” said she; “your hand is hot; your eyes are heavy; you + are very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a villain,” said he mentally, as he turned from her to hide his + emotions. + </p> + <p> + “But come,” continued she tenderly, “you shall go to bed, and I will sit + by, and watch you; you will be better when you have slept.” + </p> + <p> + Montraville was glad to retire, and by pretending sleep, hide the + agitation of his mind from her penetrating eye. Charlotte watched by him + till a late hour, and then, lying softly down by his side, sunk into a + profound sleep, from whence she awoke not till late the next morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth + her hand to raise a fallen sister. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. + </h2> + <p> + WHEN Charlotte awoke, she missed Montraville; but thinking he might have + arisen early to enjoy the beauties of the morning, she was preparing to + follow him, when casting her eye on the table, she saw a note, and opening + it hastily, found these words— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Charlotte must not be surprised, if she does not see me again for + some time: unavoidable business will prevent me that pleasure: be assured + I am quite well this morning; and what your fond imagination magnified + into illness, was nothing more than fatigue, which a few hours rest has + entirely removed. Make yourself happy, and be certain of the unalterable + friendship of + </p> + <p> + “MONTRAVILLE.” + </p> + <p> + “FRIENDSHIP!” said Charlotte emphatically, as she finished the note, “is + it come to this at last? Alas! poor, forsaken Charlotte, thy doom is now + but too apparent. Montraville is no longer interested in thy happiness; + and shame, remorse, and disappointed love will henceforth be thy only + attendants.” + </p> + <p> + Though these were the ideas that involuntarily rushed upon the mind of + Charlotte as she perused the fatal note, yet after a few hours had + elapsed, the syren Hope again took possession of her bosom, and she + flattered herself she could, on a second perusal, discover an air of + tenderness in the few lines he had left, which at first had escaped her + notice. + </p> + <p> + “He certainly cannot be so base as to leave me,” said she, “and in styling + himself my friend does he not promise to protect me. I will not torment + myself with these causeless fears; I will place a confidence in his + honour; and sure he will not be so unjust as to abuse it.” + </p> + <p> + Just as she had by this manner of reasoning brought her mind to some + tolerable degree of composure, she was surprised by a visit from Belcour. + The dejection visible in Charlotte's countenance, her swoln eyes and + neglected attire, at once told him she was unhappy: he made no doubt but + Montraville had, by his coldness, alarmed her suspicions, and was + resolved, if possible, to rouse her to jealousy, urge her to reproach him, + and by that means occasion a breach between them. “If I can once convince + her that she has a rival,” said he, “she will listen to my passion if it + is only to revenge his slights.” Belcour knew but little of the female + heart; and what he did know was only of those of loose and dissolute + lives. He had no idea that a woman might fall a victim to imprudence, and + yet retain so strong a sense of honour, as to reject with horror and + contempt every solicitation to a second fault. He never imagined that a + gentle, generous female heart, once tenderly attached, when treated with + unkindness might break, but would never harbour a thought of revenge. + </p> + <p> + His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the + heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her life. + </p> + <p> + We will now return for a moment to Colonel Crayton. He had been three + months married, and in that little time had discovered that the conduct of + his lady was not so prudent as it ought to have been: but remonstrance was + vain; her temper was violent; and to the Colonel's great misfortune he had + conceived a sincere affection for her: she saw her own power, and, with + the art of a Circe, made every action appear to him in what light she + pleased: his acquaintance laughed at his blindness, his friends pitied his + infatuation, his amiable daughter, Mrs. Beauchamp, in secret deplored the + loss of her father's affection, and grieved that he should be so entirely + swayed by an artful, and, she much feared, infamous woman. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp was mild and engaging; she loved not the hurry and bustle + of a city, and had prevailed on her husband to take a house a few miles + from New-York. Chance led her into the same neighbourhood with Charlotte; + their houses stood within a short space of each other, and their gardens + joined: she had not been long in her new habitation before the figure of + Charlotte struck her; she recollected her interesting features; she saw + the melancholy so conspicuous in her countenance, and her heart bled at + the reflection, that perhaps deprived of honour, friends, all that was + valuable in life, she was doomed to linger out a wretched existence in a + strange land, and sink broken-hearted into an untimely grave. “Would to + heaven I could snatch her from so hard a fate,” said she; “but the + merciless world has barred the doors of compassion against a poor weak + girl, who, perhaps, had she one kind friend to raise and reassure her, + would gladly return to peace and virtue; nay, even the woman who dares to + pity, and endeavour to recall a wandering sister, incurs the sneer of + contempt and ridicule, for an action in which even angels are said to + rejoice.” + </p> + <p> + The longer Mrs. Beauchamp was a witness to the solitary life Charlotte + led, the more she wished to speak to her, and often as she saw her cheeks + wet with the tears of anguish, she would say—“Dear sufferer, how + gladly would I pour into your heart the balm of consolation, were it not + for the fear of derision.” + </p> + <p> + But an accident soon happened which made her resolve to brave even the + scoffs of the world, rather than not enjoy the heavenly satisfaction of + comforting a desponding fellow-creature. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp was an early riser. She was one morning walking in the + garden, leaning on her husband's arm, when the sound of a harp attracted + their notice: they listened attentively, and heard a soft melodious voice + distinctly sing the following stanzas: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, + Just rising from the sea, + To cheer all nature with thy light, + What are thy beams to me? + In vain thy glories bid me rise, + To hail the new-born day, + Alas! my morning sacrifice + Is still to weep and pray. + For what are nature's charms combin'd, + To one, whose weary breast + Can neither peace nor comfort find, + Nor friend whereon to rest? + Oh! never! never! whilst I live + Can my heart's anguish cease: + Come, friendly death, thy mandate give, + And let me be at peace. +</pre> + <p> + “'Tis poor Charlotte!” said Mrs. Beauchamp, the pellucid drop of humanity + stealing down her cheek. + </p> + <p> + Captain Beauchamp was alarmed at her emotion. “What Charlotte?” said he; + “do you know her?” + </p> + <p> + In the accent of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband + Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had formed of + being serviceable to her. “I fear,” continued she, “the poor girl has been + basely betrayed; and if I thought you would not blame me, I would pay her + a visit, offer her my friendship, and endeavour to restore to her heart + that peace she seems to have lost, and so pathetically laments. Who knows, + my dear,” laying her hand affectionately on his arm, “who knows but she + has left some kind, affectionate parents to lament her errors, and would + she return, they might with rapture receive the poor penitent, and wash + away her faults in tears of joy. Oh! what a glorious reflexion would it be + for me could I be the happy instrument of restoring her. Her heart may not + be depraved, Beauchamp.” + </p> + <p> + “Exalted woman!” cried Beauchamp, embracing her, “how dost thou rise every + moment in my esteem. Follow the impulse of thy generous heart, my Emily. + Let prudes and fools censure if they dare, and blame a sensibility they + never felt; I will exultingly tell them that the heart that is truly + virtuous is ever inclined to pity and forgive the errors of its + fellow-creatures.” + </p> + <p> + A beam of exulting joy played round the animated countenance of Mrs. + Beauchamp, at these encomiums bestowed on her by a beloved husband, the + most delightful sensations pervaded her heart, and, having breakfasted, + she prepared to visit Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see, + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. POPE. +</pre> + <p> + WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp was dressed, she began to feel embarrassed at the + thought of beginning an acquaintance with Charlotte, and was distressed + how to make the first visit. “I cannot go without some introduction,” said + she, “it will look so like impertinent curiosity.” At length recollecting + herself, she stepped into the garden, and gathering a few fine cucumbers, + took them in her hand by way of apology for her visit. + </p> + <p> + A glow of conscious shame vermillioned Charlotte's face as Mrs. Beauchamp + entered. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, Madam,” said she, “for not having before paid my + respects to so amiable a neighbour; but we English people always keep up + that reserve which is the characteristic of our nation wherever we go. I + have taken the liberty to bring you a few cucumbers, for I observed you + had none in your garden.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte, though naturally polite and well-bred, was so confused she + could hardly speak. Her kind visitor endeavoured to relieve her by not + noticing her embarrassment. “I am come, Madam,” continued she, “to request + you will spend the day with me. I shall be alone; and, as we are both + strangers in this country, we may hereafter be extremely happy in each + other's friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “Your friendship, Madam,” said Charlotte blushing, “is an honour to all + who are favoured with it. Little as I have seen of this part of the world, + I am no stranger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness of heart and known humanity: + but my friendship—” She paused, glanced her eye upon her own visible + situation, and, spite of her endeavours to suppress them, burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp guessed the source from whence those tears flowed. “You + seem unhappy, Madam,” said she: “shall I be thought worthy your + confidence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, and rest on + my assurances to exert my utmost power to serve you.” Charlotte returned a + look of gratitude, but could not speak, and Mrs. Beauchamp continued—“My + heart was interested in your behalf the first moment I saw you, and I only + lament I had not made earlier overtures towards an acquaintance; but I + flatter myself you will henceforth consider me as your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh Madam!” cried Charlotte, “I have forfeited the good opinion of all my + friends; I have forsaken them, and undone myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, my dear,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “you must not indulge these + gloomy thoughts: you are not I hope so miserable as you imagine yourself: + endeavour to be composed, and let me be favoured with your company at + dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your friend, and + repose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you it shall not be + abused.” She then arose, and bade her good morning. + </p> + <p> + At the dining hour Charlotte repaired to Mrs. Beauchamp's, and during + dinner assumed as composed an aspect as possible; but when the cloth was + removed, she summoned all her resolution and determined to make Mrs. + Beauchamp acquainted with every circumstance preceding her unfortunate + elopement, and the earnest desire she had to quit a way of life so + repugnant to her feelings. + </p> + <p> + With the benignant aspect of an angel of mercy did Mrs. Beauchamp listen + to the artless tale: she was shocked to the soul to find how large a share + La Rue had in the seduction of this amiable girl, and a tear fell, when + she reflected so vile a woman was now the wife of her father. When + Charlotte had finished, she gave her a little time to collect her + scattered spirits, and then asked her if she had never written to her + friends. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, Madam,” said she, “frequently: but I have broke their hearts: + they are either dead or have cast me off for ever, for I have never + received a single line from them.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather suspect,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, “they have never had your + letters: but suppose you were to hear from them, and they were willing to + receive you, would you then leave this cruel Montraville, and return to + them?” + </p> + <p> + “Would I!” said Charlotte, clasping her hands; “would not the poor sailor, + tost on a tempestuous ocean, threatened every moment with death, gladly + return to the shore he had left to trust to its deceitful calmness? Oh, my + dear Madam, I would return, though to do it I were obliged to walk + barefoot over a burning desert, and beg a scanty pittance of each + traveller to support my existence. I would endure it all cheerfully, could + I but once more see my dear, blessed mother, hear her pronounce my pardon, + and bless me before I died; but alas! I shall never see her more; she has + blotted the ungrateful Charlotte from her remembrance, and I shall sink to + the grave loaded with her's and my father's curse.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp endeavoured to sooth her. “You shall write to them again,” + said she, “and I will see that the letter is sent by the first packet that + sails for England; in the mean time keep up your spirits, and hope every + thing, by daring to deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + She then turned the conversation, and Charlotte having taken a cup of tea, + wished her benevolent friend a good evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <h3> + SORROWS OF THE HEART. + </h3> + <p> + WHEN Charlotte got home she endeavoured to collect her thoughts, and took + up a pen in order to address those dear parents, whom, spite of her + errors, she still loved with the utmost tenderness, but vain was every + effort to write with the least coherence; her tears fell so fast they + almost blinded her; and as she proceeded to describe her unhappy + situation, she became so agitated that she was obliged to give over the + attempt and retire to bed, where, overcome with the fatigue her mind had + undergone, she fell into a slumber which greatly refreshed her, and she + arose in the morning with spirits more adequate to the painful task she + had to perform, and, after several attempts, at length concluded the + following letter to her mother— + </p> + <p> + TO MRS. TEMPLE. NEW-YORK. + </p> + <p> + “Will my once kind, my ever beloved mother, deign to receive a letter from + her guilty, but repentant child? or has she, justly incensed at my + ingratitude, driven the unhappy Charlotte from her remembrance? Alas! thou + much injured mother! shouldst thou even disown me, I dare not complain, + because I know I have deserved it: but yet, believe me, guilty as I am, + and cruelly as I have disappointed the hopes of the fondest parents, that + ever girl had, even in the moment when, forgetful of my duty, I fled from + you and happiness, even then I loved you most, and my heart bled at the + thought of what you would suffer. Oh! never, never! whilst I have + existence, will the agony of that moment be erased from my memory. It + seemed like the separation of soul and body. What can I plead in excuse + for my conduct? alas! nothing! That I loved my seducer is but too true! + yet powerful as that passion is when operating in a young heart glowing + with sensibility, it never would have conquered my affection to you, my + beloved parents, had I not been encouraged, nay, urged to take the fatally + imprudent step, by one of my own sex, who, under the mask of friendship, + drew me on to ruin. Yet think not your Charlotte was so lost as to + voluntarily rush into a life of infamy; no, my dear mother, deceived by + the specious appearance of my betrayer, and every suspicion lulled asleep + by the most solemn promises of marriage, I thought not those promises + would so easily be forgotten. I never once reflected that the man who + could stoop to seduction, would not hesitate to forsake the wretched + object of his passion, whenever his capricious heart grew weary of her + tenderness. When we arrived at this place, I vainly expected him to fulfil + his engagements, but was at last fatally convinced he had never intended + to make me his wife, or if he had once thought of it, his mind was now + altered. I scorned to claim from his humanity what I could not obtain from + his love: I was conscious of having forfeited the only gem that could + render me respectable in the eye of the world. I locked my sorrows in my + own bosom, and bore my injuries in silence. But how shall I proceed? This + man, this cruel Montraville, for whom I sacrificed honour, happiness, and + the love of my friends, no longer looks on me with affection, but scorns + the credulous girl whom his art has made miserable. Could you see me, my + dear parents, without society, without friends, stung with remorse, and (I + feel the burning blush of shame die my cheeks while I write it) tortured + with the pangs of disappointed love; cut to the soul by the indifference + of him, who, having deprived me of every other comfort, no longer thinks + it worth his while to sooth the heart where he has planted the thorn of + never-ceasing regret. My daily employment is to think of you and weep, to + pray for your happiness and deplore my own folly: my nights are scarce + more happy, for if by chance I close my weary eyes, and hope some small + forgetfulness of sorrow, some little time to pass in sweet oblivion, + fancy, still waking, wafts me home to you: I see your beloved forms, I + kneel and hear the blessed words of peace and pardon. Extatic joy pervades + my soul; I reach my arms to catch your dear embraces; the motion chases + the illusive dream; I wake to real misery. At other times I see my father + angry and frowning, point to horrid caves, where, on the cold damp ground, + in the agonies of death, I see my dear mother and my revered grand-father. + I strive to raise you; you push me from you, and shrieking cry—'Charlotte, + thou hast murdered me!' Horror and despair tear every tortured nerve; I + start, and leave my restless bed, weary and unrefreshed. + </p> + <p> + “Shocking as these reflexions are, I have yet one more dreadful than the + rest. Mother, my dear mother! do not let me quite break your heart when I + tell you, in a few months I shall bring into the world an innocent witness + of my guilt. Oh my bleeding heart, I shall bring a poor little helpless + creature, heir to infamy and shame. + </p> + <p> + “This alone has urged me once more to address you, to interest you in + behalf of this poor unborn, and beg you to extend your protection to the + child of your lost Charlotte; for my own part I have wrote so often, so + frequently have pleaded for forgiveness, and entreated to be received once + more beneath the paternal roof, that having received no answer, not even + one line, I much fear you have cast me from you for ever. + </p> + <p> + “But sure you cannot refuse to protect my innocent infant: it partakes not + of its mother's guilt. Oh my father, oh beloved mother, now do I feel the + anguish I inflicted on your hearts recoiling with double force upon my + own. + </p> + <p> + “If my child should be a girl (which heaven forbid) tell her the unhappy + fate of her mother, and teach her to avoid my errors; if a boy, teach him + to lament my miseries, but tell him not who inflicted them, lest in + wishing to revenge his mother's injuries, he should wound the peace of his + father. + </p> + <p> + “And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardians of my infancy, farewell. + I feel I never more must hope to see you; the anguish of my heart strikes + at the strings of life, and in a short time I shall be at rest. Oh could I + but receive your blessing and forgiveness before I died, it would smooth + my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed foretaste of a happy + eternity. I beseech you, curse me not, my adored parents, but let a tear + of pity and pardon fall to the memory of your lost + </p> + <p> + “CHARLOTTE.” <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <h3> + A MAN MAY SMILE, AND SMILE, AND BE A VILLAIN. + </h3> + <p> + WHILE Charlotte was enjoying some small degree of comfort in the consoling + friendship of Mrs. Beauchamp, Montraville was advancing rapidly in his + affection towards Miss Franklin. Julia was an amiable girl; she saw only + the fair side of his character; she possessed an independent fortune, and + resolved to be happy with the man of her heart, though his rank and + fortune were by no means so exalted as she had a right to expect; she saw + the passion which Montraville struggled to conceal; she wondered at his + timidity, but imagined the distance fortune had placed between them + occasioned his backwardness, and made every advance which strict prudence + and a becoming modesty would permit. Montraville saw with pleasure he was + not indifferent to her, but a spark of honour which animated his bosom + would not suffer him to take advantage of her partiality. He was well + acquainted with Charlotte's situation, and he thought there would be a + double cruelty in forsaking her at such a time; and to marry Miss + Franklin, while honour, humanity, every sacred law, obliged him still to + protect and support Charlotte, was a baseness which his soul shuddered at. + </p> + <p> + He communicated his uneasiness to Belcour: it was the very thing this + pretended friend had wished. “And do you really,” said he, laughing, + “hesitate at marrying the lovely Julia, and becoming master of her + fortune, because a little foolish, fond girl chose to leave her friends, + and run away with you to America. Dear Montraville, act more like a man of + sense; this whining, pining Charlotte, who occasions you so much + uneasiness, would have eloped with somebody else if she had not with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Would to heaven,” said Montraville, “I had never seen her; my regard for + her was but the momentary passion of desire, but I feel I shall love and + revere Julia Franklin as long as I live; yet to leave poor Charlotte in + her present situation would be cruel beyond description.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh my good sentimental friend,” said Belcour, “do you imagine no body has + a right to provide for the brat but yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Montraville started. “Sure,” said he, “you cannot mean to insinuate that + Charlotte is false.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't insinuate it,” said Belcour, “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + Montraville turned pale as ashes. “Then there is no faith in woman,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “While I thought you attached to her,” said Belcour with an air of + indifference, “I never wished to make you uneasy by mentioning her + perfidy, but as I know you love and are beloved by Miss Franklin, I was + determined not to let these foolish scruples of honour step between you + and happiness, or your tenderness for the peace of a perfidious girl + prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” said Montraville, “what poignant reflections does a man + endure who sees a lovely woman plunged in infamy, and is conscious he was + her first seducer; but are you certain of what you say, Belcour?” + </p> + <p> + “So far,” replied he, “that I myself have received advances from her which + I would not take advantage of out of regard to you: but hang it, think no + more about her. I dined at Franklin's to-day, and Julia bid me seek and + bring you to tea: so come along, my lad, make good use of opportunity, and + seize the gifts of fortune while they are within your reach.” Montraville + was too much agitated to pass a happy evening even in the company of Julia + Franklin: he determined to visit Charlotte early the next morning, tax her + with her falsehood, and take an everlasting leave of her; but when the + morning came, he was commanded on duty, and for six weeks was prevented + from putting his design in execution. At length he found an hour to spare, + and walked out to spend it with Charlotte: it was near four o'clock in the + afternoon when he arrived at her cottage; she was not in the parlour, and + without calling the servant he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in + her bed room. He opened the door, and the first object that met his eyes + was Charlotte asleep on the bed, and Belcour by her side. + </p> + <p> + “Death and distraction,” said he, stamping, “this is too much. Rise, + villain, and defend yourself.” Belcour sprang from the bed. The noise + awoke Charlotte; terrified at the furious appearance of Montraville, and + seeing Belcour with him in the chamber, she caught hold of his arm as he + stood by the bed-side, and eagerly asked what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Treacherous, infamous girl,” said he, “can you ask? How came he here?” + pointing to Belcour. + </p> + <p> + “As heaven is my witness,” replied she weeping, “I do not know. I have not + seen him for these three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you confess he sometimes visits you?” + </p> + <p> + “He came sometimes by your desire.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis false; I never desired him to come, and you know I did not: but mark + me, Charlotte, from this instant our connexion is at an end. Let Belcour, + or any other of your favoured lovers, take you and provide for you; I have + done with you for ever.” + </p> + <p> + He was then going to leave her; but starting wildly from the bed, she + threw herself on her knees before him, protesting her innocence and + entreating him not to leave her. “Oh Montraville,” said she, “kill me, for + pity's sake kill me, but do not doubt my fidelity. Do not leave me in this + horrid situation; for the sake of your unborn child, oh! spurn not the + wretched mother from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte,” said he, with a firm voice, “I shall take care that neither + you nor your child want any thing in the approaching painful hour; but we + meet no more.” He then endeavoured to raise her from the ground; but in + vain; she clung about his knees, entreating him to believe her innocent, + and conjuring Belcour to clear up the dreadful mystery. + </p> + <p> + Belcour cast on Montraville a smile of contempt: it irritated him almost + to madness; he broke from the feeble arms of the distressed girl; she + shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Montraville instantly left the house and returned hastily to the city. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> + <h3> + MYSTERY DEVELOPED. + </h3> + <p> + UNFORTUNATELY for Charlotte, about three weeks before this unhappy + rencontre, Captain Beauchamp, being ordered to Rhode-Island, his lady had + accompanied him, so that Charlotte was deprived of her friendly advice and + consoling society. The afternoon on which Montraville had visited her she + had found herself languid and fatigued, and after making a very slight + dinner had lain down to endeavour to recruit her exhausted spirits, and, + contrary to her expectations, had fallen asleep. She had not long been + lain down, when Belcour arrived, for he took every opportunity of visiting + her, and striving to awaken her resentment against Montraville. He + enquired of the servant where her mistress was, and being told she was + asleep, took up a book to amuse himself: having sat a few minutes, he by + chance cast his eyes towards the road, and saw Montraville approaching; he + instantly conceived the diabolical scheme of ruining the unhappy Charlotte + in his opinion for ever; he therefore stole softly up stairs, and laying + himself by her side with the greatest precaution, for fear she should + awake, was in that situation discovered by his credulous friend. + </p> + <p> + When Montraville spurned the weeping Charlotte from him, and left her + almost distracted with terror and despair, Belcour raised her from the + floor, and leading her down stairs, assumed the part of a tender, + consoling friend; she listened to the arguments he advanced with apparent + composure; but this was only the calm of a moment: the remembrance of + Montraville's recent cruelty again rushed upon her mind: she pushed him + from her with some violence, and crying—“Leave me, Sir, I beseech + you leave me, for much I fear you have been the cause of my fidelity being + suspected; go, leave me to the accumulated miseries my own imprudence has + brought upon me.” + </p> + <p> + She then left him with precipitation, and retiring to her own apartment, + threw herself on the bed, and gave vent to an agony of grief which it is + impossible to describe. + </p> + <p> + It now occurred to Belcour that she might possibly write to Montraville, + and endeavour to convince him of her innocence: he was well aware of her + pathetic remonstrances, and, sensible of the tenderness of Montraville's + heart, resolved to prevent any letters ever reaching him: he therefore + called the servant, and, by the powerful persuasion of a bribe, prevailed + with her to promise whatever letters her mistress might write should be + sent to him. He then left a polite, tender note for Charlotte, and + returned to New-York. His first business was to seek Montraville, and + endeavour to convince him that what had happened would ultimately tend to + his happiness: he found him in his apartment, solitary, pensive, and + wrapped in disagreeable reflexions. + </p> + <p> + “Why how now, whining, pining lover?” said he, clapping him on the + shoulder. Montraville started; a momentary flush of resentment crossed his + cheek, but instantly gave place to a death-like paleness, occasioned by + painful remembrance remembrance awakened by that monitor, whom, though we + may in vain endeavour, we can never entirely silence. + </p> + <p> + “Belcour,” said he, “you have injured me in a tender point.” “Prithee, + Jack,” replied Belcour, “do not make a serious matter of it: how could I + refuse the girl's advances? and thank heaven she is not your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Montraville; “but she was innocent when I first knew her. It + was I seduced her, Belcour. Had it not been for me, she had still been + virtuous and happy in the affection and protection of her family.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw,” replied Belcour, laughing, “if you had not taken advantage of her + easy nature, some other would, and where is the difference, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had never seen her,” cried he passionately, and starting from + his seat. “Oh that cursed French woman,” added he with vehemence, “had it + not been for her, I might have been happy—” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “With Julia Franklin,” said Belcour. The name, like a sudden spark of + electric fire, seemed for a moment to suspend his faculties—for a + moment he was transfixed; but recovering, he caught Belcour's hand, and + cried—“Stop! stop! I beseech you, name not the lovely Julia and the + wretched Montraville in the same breath. I am a seducer, a mean, + ungenerous seducer of unsuspecting innocence. I dare not hope that purity + like her's would stoop to unite itself with black, premeditated guilt: yet + by heavens I swear, Belcour, I thought I loved the lost, abandoned + Charlotte till I saw Julia—I thought I never could forsake her; but + the heart is deceitful, and I now can plainly discriminate between the + impulse of a youthful passion, and the pure flame of disinterested + affection.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant Julia Franklin passed the window, leaning on her uncle's + arm. She curtseyed as she passed, and, with the bewitching smile of modest + cheerfulness, cried—“Do you bury yourselves in the house this fine + evening, gents?” There was something in the voice! the manner! the look! + that was altogether irresistible. “Perhaps she wishes my company,” said + Montraville mentally, as he snatched up his hat: “if I thought she loved + me, I would confess my errors, and trust to her generosity to pity and + pardon me.” He soon overtook her, and offering her his arm, they sauntered + to pleasant but unfrequented walks. Belcour drew Mr. Franklin on one side + and entered into a political discourse: they walked faster than the young + people, and Belcour by some means contrived entirely to lose sight of + them. It was a fine evening in the beginning of autumn; the last remains + of day-light faintly streaked the western sky, while the moon, with pale + and virgin lustre in the room of gorgeous gold and purple, ornamented the + canopy of heaven with silver, fleecy clouds, which now and then half hid + her lovely face, and, by partly concealing, heightened every beauty; the + zephyrs whispered softly through the trees, which now began to shed their + leafy honours; a solemn silence reigned: and to a happy mind an evening + such as this would give serenity, and calm, unruffled pleasure; but to + Montraville, while it soothed the turbulence of his passions, it brought + increase of melancholy reflections. Julia was leaning on his arm: he took + her hand in his, and pressing it tenderly, sighed deeply, but continued + silent. Julia was embarrassed; she wished to break a silence so + unaccountable, but was unable; she loved Montraville, she saw he was + unhappy, and wished to know the cause of his uneasiness, but that innate + modesty, which nature has implanted in the female breast, prevented her + enquiring. “I am bad company, Miss Franklin,” said he, at last + recollecting himself; “but I have met with something to-day that has + greatly distressed me, and I cannot shake off the disagreeable impression + it has made on my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” she replied, “that you have any cause of inquietude. I am + sure if you were as happy as you deserve, and as all your friends wish you—” + She hesitated. “And might I,” replied he with some animation, “presume to + rank the amiable Julia in that number?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said she, “the service you have rendered me, the knowledge of + your worth, all combine to make me esteem you.” + </p> + <p> + “Esteem, my lovely Julia,” said he passionately, “is but a poor cold word. + I would if I dared, if I thought I merited your attention—but no, I + must not—honour forbids. I am beneath your notice, Julia, I am + miserable and cannot hope to be otherwise.” “Alas!” said Julia, “I pity + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh thou condescending charmer,” said he, “how that sweet word cheers my + sad heart. Indeed if you knew all, you would pity; but at the same time I + fear you would despise me.” + </p> + <p> + Just then they were again joined by Mr. Franklin and Belcour. It had + interrupted an interesting discourse. They found it impossible to converse + on indifferent subjects, and proceeded home in silence. At Mr. Franklin's + door Montraville again pressed Julia's hand, and faintly articulating + “good night,” retired to his lodgings dispirited and wretched, from a + consciousness that he deserved not the affection, with which he plainly + saw he was honoured. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> + <h3> + RECEPTION OF A LETTER. + </h3> + <p> + “AND where now is our poor Charlotte?” said Mr. Temple one evening, as the + cold blasts of autumn whistled rudely over the heath, and the yellow + appearance of the distant wood, spoke the near approach of winter. In vain + the cheerful fire blazed on the hearth, in vain was he surrounded by all + the comforts of life; the parent was still alive in his heart, and when he + thought that perhaps his once darling child was ere this exposed to all + the miseries of want in a distant land, without a friend to sooth and + comfort her, without the benignant look of compassion to cheer, or the + angelic voice of pity to pour the balm of consolation on her wounded + heart; when he thought of this, his whole soul dissolved in tenderness; + and while he wiped the tear of anguish from the eye of his patient, + uncomplaining Lucy, he struggled to suppress the sympathizing drop that + started in his own. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor girl,” said Mrs. Temple, “how must she be altered, else + surely she would have relieved our agonizing minds by one line to say she + lived—to say she had not quite forgot the parents who almost + idolized her.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven,” said Mr. Temple, starting from his seat, “I, who would + wish to be a father, to experience the agonizing pangs inflicted on a + parent's heart by the ingratitude of a child?” Mrs. Temple wept: her + father took her hand; he would have said, “be comforted my child,” but the + words died on his tongue. The sad silence that ensued was interrupted by a + loud rap at the door. In a moment a servant entered with a letter in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Temple took it from him: she cast her eyes upon the superscription; + she knew the writing. “'Tis Charlotte,” said she, eagerly breaking the + seal, “she has not quite forgot us.” But before she had half gone through + the contents, a sudden sickness seized her; she grew cold and giddy, and + puffing it into her husband's hand, she cried—“Read it: I cannot.” + Mr. Temple attempted to read it aloud, but frequently paused to give vent + to his tears. “My poor deluded child,” said he, when he had finished. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, shall we not forgive the dear penitent?” said Mrs. Temple. “We must, + we will, my love; she is willing to return, and 'tis our duty to receive + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Father of mercy,” said Mr. Eldridge, raising his clasped hands, “let me + but live once more to see the dear wanderer restored to her afflicted + parents, and take me from this world of sorrow whenever it seemeth best to + thy wisdom.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will receive her,” said Mr. Temple; “we will endeavour to heal + her wounded spirit, and speak peace and comfort to her agitated soul. I + will write to her to return immediately.' + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mrs. Temple, “I would if possible fly to her, support and cheer + the dear sufferer in the approaching hour of distress, and tell her how + nearly penitence is allied to virtue. Cannot we go and conduct her home, + my love?” continued she, laying her hand on his arm. “My father will + surely forgive our absence if we go to bring home his darling.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot go, my Lucy,” said Mr. Temple: “the delicacy of your frame + would but poorly sustain the fatigue of a long voyage; but I will go and + bring the gentle penitent to your arms: we may still see many years of + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + The struggle in the bosom of Mrs. Temple between maternal and conjugal + tenderness was long and painful. At length the former triumphed, and she + consented that her husband should set forward to New-York by the first + opportunity: she wrote to her Charlotte in the tenderest, most consoling + manner, and looked forward to the happy hour, when she should again + embrace her, with the most animated hope. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> + <h3> + WHAT MIGHT BE EXPECTED. + </h3> + <p> + IN the mean time the passion Montraville had conceived for Julia Franklin + daily encreased, and he saw evidently how much he was beloved by that + amiable girl: he was likewise strongly prepossessed with an idea of + Charlotte's perfidy. What wonder then if he gave himself up to the + delightful sensation which pervaded his bosom; and finding no obstacle + arise to oppose his happiness, he solicited and obtained the hand of + Julia. A few days before his marriage he thus addressed Belcour: + </p> + <p> + “Though Charlotte, by her abandoned conduct, has thrown herself from my + protection, I still hold myself bound to support her till relieved from + her present condition, and also to provide for the child. I do not intend + to see her again, but I will place a sum of money in your hands, which + will amply supply her with every convenience; but should she require more, + let her have it, and I will see it repaid. I wish I could prevail on the + poor deluded girl to return to her friends: she was an only child, and I + make no doubt but that they would joyfully receive her; it would shock me + greatly to see her henceforth leading a life of infamy, as I should always + accuse myself of being the primary cause of all her errors. If she should + chuse to remain under your protection, be kind to her, Belcour, I conjure + you. Let not satiety prompt you to treat her in such a manner, as may + drive her to actions which necessity might urge her to, while her better + reason disapproved them: she shall never want a friend while I live, but I + never more desire to behold her; her presence would be always painful to + me, and a glance from her eye would call the blush of conscious guilt into + my cheek. + </p> + <p> + “I will write a letter to her, which you may deliver when I am gone, as I + shall go to St. Eustatia the day after my union with Julia, who will + accompany me.” + </p> + <p> + Belcour promised to fulfil the request of his friend, though nothing was + farther from his intentions, than the least design of delivering the + letter, or making Charlotte acquainted with the provision Montraville had + made for her; he was bent on the complete ruin of the unhappy girl, and + supposed, by reducing her to an entire dependance on him, to bring her by + degrees to consent to gratify his ungenerous passion. + </p> + <p> + The evening before the day appointed for the nuptials of Montraville and + Julia, the former refired early to his apartment; and ruminating on the + past scenes of his life, suffered the keenest remorse in the remembrance + of Charlotte's seduction. “Poor girl,” said he, “I will at least write and + bid her adieu; I will too endeavour to awaken that love of virtue in her + bosom which her unfortunate attachment to me has extinguished.” He took up + the pen and began to write, but words were denied him. How could he + address the woman whom he had seduced, and whom, though he thought + unworthy his tenderness, he was about to bid adieu for ever? How should he + tell her that he was going to abjure her, to enter into the most + indissoluble ties with another, and that he could not even own the infant + which she bore as his child? Several letters were begun and destroyed: at + length he completed the following: + </p> + <p> + TO CHARLOTTE. + </p> + <p> + “Though I have taken up my pen to address you, my poor injured girl, I + feel I am inadequate to the task; yet, however painful the endeavour, I + could not resolve upon leaving you for ever without one kind line to bid + you adieu, to tell you how my heart bleeds at the remembrance of what you + was, before you saw the hated Montraville. Even now imagination paints the + scene, when, torn by contending passions, when, struggling between love + and duty, you fainted in my arms, and I lifted you into the chaise: I see + the agony of your mind, when, recovering, you found yourself on the road + to Portsmouth: but how, my gentle girl, how could you, when so justly + impressed with the value of virtue, how could you, when loving as I + thought you loved me, yield to the solicitations of Belcour? + </p> + <p> + “Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, villain that I am, who first + taught you the allurements of guilty pleasure; it was I who dragged you + from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy; and can I, + dare I tell you, it was not love prompted to the horrid deed? No, thou + dear, fallen angel, believe your repentant Montraville, when he tells you + the man who truly loves will never betray the object of his affection. + Adieu, Charlotte: could you still find charms in a life of unoffend-ing + innocence, return to your parents; you shall never want the means of + support both for yourself and child. Oh! gracious heaven! may that child + be entirely free from the vices of its father and the weakness of its + mother. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow—but no, I cannot tell you what to-morrow will produce; + Belcour will inform you: he also has cash for you, which I beg you will + ask for whenever you may want it. Once more adieu: believe me could I hear + you was returned to your friends, and enjoying that tranquillity of which + I have robbed you, I should be as completely happy as even you, in your + fondest hours, could wish me, but till then a gloom will obscure the + brightest prospects of MONTRAVILLE.” + </p> + <p> + After he had sealed this letter he threw himself on the bed, and enjoyed a + few hours repose. Early in the morning Belcour tapped at his door: he + arose hastily, and prepared to meet his Julia at the altar. + </p> + <p> + “This is the letter to Charlotte,” said he, giving it to Belcour: “take it + to her when we are gone to Eustatia; and I conjure you, my dear friend, + not to use any sophistical arguments to prevent her return to virtue; but + should she incline that way, encourage her in the thought, and assist her + to put her design in execution.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, + Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew. +</pre> + <p> + CHARLOTTE had now been left almost three months a prey to her own + melancholy reflexions—sad companions indeed; nor did any one break + in upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called to enquire + after her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavoured to bring + Montraville to hear reason; and once, but only once, was her mind cheered + by the receipt of an affectionate letter from Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had + she wrote to her perfidious seducer, and with the most persuasive + eloquence endeavoured to convince him of her innocence; but these letters + were never suffered to reach the hands of Montraville, or they must, + though on the very eve of marriage, have prevented his deserting the + wretched girl. Real anguish of heart had in a great measure faded her + charms, her cheeks were pale from want of rest, and her eyes, by frequent, + indeed almost continued weeping, were sunk and heavy. Sometimes a gleam of + hope would play about her heart when she thought of her parents—“They + cannot surely,” she would say, “refuse to forgive me; or should they deny + their pardon to me, they win not hate my innocent infant on account of its + mother's errors.” How often did the poor mourner wish for the consoling + presence of the benevolent Mrs. Beauchamp. + </p> + <p> + “If she were here,” she would cry, “she would certainly comfort me, and + sooth the distraction of my soul.” + </p> + <p> + She was sitting one afternoon, wrapped in these melancholy reflexions, + when she was interrupted by the entrance of Belcour. Great as the + alteration was which incessant sorrow had made on her person, she was + still interesting, still charming; and the unhallowed flame, which had + urged Belcour to plant dissension between her and Montraville, still raged + in his bosom: he was determined, if possible, to make her his mistress; + nay, he had even conceived the diabolical scheme of taking her to + New-York, and making her appear in every public place where it was likely + she should meet Montraville, that he might be a witness to his unmanly + triumph. + </p> + <p> + When he entered the room where Charlotte was sitting, he assumed the look + of tender, consolatory friendship. “And how does my lovely Charlotte?” + said he, taking her hand: “I fear you are not so well as I could wish.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not well, Mr. Belcour,” said she, “very far from it; but the pains + and infirmities of the body I could easily bear, nay, submit to them with + patience, were they not aggravated by the most insupportable anguish of my + mind.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not happy, Charlotte,” said he, with a look of well-dissembled + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” replied she mournfully, shaking her head, “how can I be happy, + deserted and forsaken as I am, without a friend of my own sex to whom I + can unburthen my full heart, nay, my fidelity suspected by the very man + for whom I have sacrificed every thing valuable in life, for whom I have + made myself a poor despised creature, an outcast from society, an object + only of contempt and pity.” + </p> + <p> + “You think too meanly of yourself, Miss Temple: there is no one who would + dare to treat you with contempt: all who have the pleasure of knowing you + must admire and esteem. You are lonely here, my dear girl; give me leave + to conduct you to New-York, where the agreeable society of some ladies, to + whom I will introduce you, will dispel these sad thoughts, and I shall + again see returning cheerfulness animate those lovely features.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh never! never!” cried Charlotte, emphatically: “the virtuous part of my + sex will scorn me, and I will never associate with infamy. No, Belcour, + here let me hide my shame and sorrow, here let me spend my few remaining + days in obscurity, unknown and unpitied, here let me die unlamented, and + my name sink to oblivion.” Here her tears stopped her utterance. Belcour + was awed to silence: he dared not interrupt her; and after a moment's + pause she proceeded—“I once had conceived the thought of going to + New-York to seek out the still dear, though cruel, ungenerous Montraville, + to throw myself at his feet, and entreat his compassion; heaven knows, not + for myself; if I am no longer beloved, I will not be indebted to his pity + to redress my injuries, but I would have knelt and entreated him not to + forsake my poor unborn—” She could say no more; a crimson glow + rushed over her cheeks, and covering her face with her hands, she sobbed + aloud. + </p> + <p> + Something like humanity was awakened in Belcour's breast by this pathetic + speech: he arose and walked towards the window; but the selfish passion + which had taken possession of his heart, soon stifled these finer + emotions; and he thought if Charlotte was once convinced she had no longer + any dependance on Montraville, she would more readily throw herself on his + protection. Determined, therefore, to inform her of all that had happened, + he again resumed his seat; and finding she began to be more composed, + enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since the unfortunate + recontre in her bed chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Ah no,” said she. “I fear I shall never hear from him again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am greatly of your opinion,” said Belcour, “for he has been for some + time past greatly attached—” + </p> + <p> + At the word “attached” a death-like paleness overspread the countenance of + Charlotte, but she applied to some hartshorn which stood beside her, and + Belcour proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “He has been for some time past greatly attached to one Miss Franklin, a + pleasing lively girl, with a large fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “She may be richer, may be handsomer,” cried Charlotte, “but cannot love + him so well. Oh may she beware of his art, and not trust him too far as I + have done.” + </p> + <p> + “He addresses her publicly,” said he, “and it was rumoured they were to be + married before he sailed for Eustatia, whither his company is ordered.” + </p> + <p> + “Belcour,” said Charlotte, seizing his hand, and gazing at him earnestly, + while her pale lips trembled with convulsive agony, “tell me, and tell me + truly, I beseech you, do you think he can be such a villain as to marry + another woman, and leave me to die with want and misery in a strange land: + tell me what you think; I can bear it very well; I will not shrink from + this heaviest stroke of fate; I have deserved my afflictions, and I will + endeavour to bear them as I ought.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” said Belcour, “he can be that villain.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” cried she, eagerly interrupting him, “perhaps he is married + already: come, let me know the worst,” continued she with an affected look + of composure: “you need not be afraid, I shall not send the fortunate lady + a bowl of poison.” + </p> + <p> + “Well then, my dear girl,” said he, deceived by her appearance, “they were + married on Thursday, and yesterday morning they sailed for Eustatia.” + </p> + <p> + “Married—gone—say you?” cried she in a distracted accent, + “what without a last farewell, without one thought on my unhappy + situation! Oh Montraville, may God forgive your perfidy.” She shrieked, + and Belcour sprang forward just in time to prevent her falling to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + Alarming faintings now succeeded each other, and she was conveyed to her + bed, from whence she earnestly prayed she might never more arise. Belcour + staid with her that night, and in the morning found her in a high fever. + The fits she had been seized with had greatly terrified him; and confined + as she now was to a bed of sickness, she was no longer an object of + desire: it is true for several days he went constantly to see her, but her + pale, emaciated appearance disgusted him: his visits became less frequent; + he forgot the solemn charge given him by Montraville; he even forgot the + money entrusted to his care; and, the burning blush of indignation and + shame tinges my cheek while I write it, this disgrace to humanity and + manhood at length forgot even the injured Charlotte; and, attracted by the + blooming health of a farmer's daughter, whom he had seen in his frequent + excursions to the country, he left the unhappy girl to sink unnoticed to + the grave, a prey to sickness, grief, and penury; while he, having + triumphed over the virtue of the artless cottager, rioted in all the + intemperance of luxury and lawless pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> + <h3> + A TRIFLING RETROSPECT. + </h3> + <p> + “BLESS my heart,” cries my young, volatile reader, “I shall never have + patience to get through these volumes, there are so many ahs! and ohs! so + much fainting, tears, and distress, I am sick to death of the subject.” My + dear, cheerful, innocent girl, for innocent I will suppose you to be, or + you would acutely feel the woes of Charlotte, did conscience say, thus + might it have been with me, had not Providence interposed to snatch me + from destruction: therefore, my lively, innocent girl, I must request your + patience: I am writing a tale of truth: I mean to write it to the heart: + but if perchance the heart is rendered impenetrable by unbounded + prosperity, or a continuance in vice, I expect not my tale to please, nay, + I even expect it will be thrown by with disgust. But softly, gentle fair + one; I pray you throw it not aside till you have perused the whole; mayhap + you may find something therein to repay you for the trouble. Methinks I + see a sarcastic smile sit on your countenance.—“And what,” cry you, + “does the conceited author suppose we can glean from these pages, if + Charlotte is held up as an object of terror, to prevent us from falling + into guilty errors? does not La Rue triumph in her shame, and by adding + art to guilt, obtain the affection of a worthy man, and rise to a station + where she is beheld with respect, and cheerfully received into all + companies. What then is the moral you would inculcate? Would you wish us + to think that a deviation from virtue, if covered by art and hypocrisy, is + not an object of detestation, but on the contrary shall raise us to fame + and honour? while the hapless girl who falls a victim to her too great + sensibility, shall be loaded with ignominy and shame?” No, my fair + querist, I mean no such thing. Remember the endeavours of the wicked are + often suffered to prosper, that in the end their fall may be attended with + more bitterness of heart; while the cup of affliction is poured out for + wise and salutary ends, and they who are compelled to drain it even to the + bitter dregs, often find comfort at the bottom; the tear of penitence + blots their offences from the book of fate, and they rise from the heavy, + painful trial, purified and fit for a mansion in the kingdom of eternity. + </p> + <p> + Yes, my young friends, the tear of compassion shall fall for the fate of + Charlotte, while the name of La Rue shall be detested and despised. For + Charlotte, the soul melts with sympathy; for La Rue, it feels nothing but + horror and contempt. But perhaps your gay hearts would rather follow the + fortunate Mrs. Crayton through the scenes of pleasure and dissipation in + which she was engaged, than listen to the complaints and miseries of + Charlotte. I will for once oblige you; I will for once follow her to + midnight revels, balls, and scenes of gaiety, for in such was she + constantly engaged. + </p> + <p> + I have said her person was lovely; let us add that she was surrounded by + splendor and affluence, and he must know but little of the world who can + wonder, (however faulty such a woman's conduct,) at her being followed by + the men, and her company courted by the women: in short Mrs. Crayton was + the universal favourite: she set the fashions, she was toasted by all the + gentlemen, and copied by all the ladies. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Crayton was a domestic man. Could he be happy with such a woman? + impossible! Remonstrance was vain: he might as well have preached to the + winds, as endeavour to persuade her from any action, however ridiculous, + on which she had set her mind: in short, after a little ineffectual + struggle, he gave up the attempt, and left her to follow the bent of her + own inclinations: what those were, I think the reader must have seen + enough of her character to form a just idea. Among the number who paid + their devotions at her shrine, she singled one, a young Ensign of mean + birth, indifferent education, and weak intellects. How such a man came + into the army, we hardly know to account for, and how he afterwards rose + to posts of honour is likewise strange and wonderful. But fortune is + blind, and so are those too frequently who have the power of dispensing + her favours: else why do we see fools and knaves at the very top of the + wheel, while patient merit sinks to the extreme of the opposite abyss. But + we may form a thousand conjectures on this subject, and yet never hit on + the right. Let us therefore endeavour to deserve her smiles, and whether + we succeed or not, we shall feel more innate satisfaction, than thousands + of those who bask in the sunshine of her favour unworthily. But to return + to Mrs. Crayton: this young man, whom I shall distinguish by the name of + Corydon, was the reigning favourite of her heart. He escorted her to the + play, danced with her at every ball, and when indisposition prevented her + going out, it was he alone who was permitted to cheer the gloomy solitude + to which she was obliged to confine herself. Did she ever think of poor + Charlotte?—if she did, my dear Miss, it was only to laugh at the + poor girl's want of spirit in consenting to be moped up in the country, + while Montraville was enjoying all the pleasures of a gay, dissipated + city. When she heard of his marriage, she smiling said, so there's an end + of Madam Charlotte's hopes. I wonder who will take her now, or what will + become of the little affected prude? + </p> + <p> + But as you have lead to the subject, I think we may as well return to the + distressed Charlotte, and not, like the unfeeling Mrs. Crayton, shut our + hearts to the call of humanity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> + <h3> + WE GO FORWARD AGAIN. + </h3> + <p> + THE strength of Charlotte's constitution combatted against her disorder, + and she began slowly to recover, though she still laboured under a violent + depression of spirits: how must that depression be encreased, when, upon + examining her little store, she found herself reduced to one solitary + guinea, and that during her illness the attendance of an apothecary and + nurse, together with many other unavoidable expences, had involved her in + debt, from which she saw no method of extricating herself. As to the faint + hope which she had entertained of hearing from and being relieved by her + parents; it now entirely forsook her, for it was above four months since + her letter was dispatched, and she had received no answer: she therefore + imagined that her conduct had either entirely alienated their affection + from her, or broken their hearts, and she must never more hope to receive + their blessing. + </p> + <p> + Never did any human being wish for death with greater fervency or with + juster cause; yet she had too just a sense of the duties of the Christian + religion to attempt to put a period to her own existence. “I have but to + be patient a little longer,” she would cry, “and nature, fatigued and + fainting, will throw off this heavy load of mortality, and I shall be + released from all my sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + It was one cold stormy day in the latter end of December, as Charlotte sat + by a handful of fire, the low state of her finances not allowing her to + replenish her stock of fuel, and prudence teaching her to be careful of + what she had, when she was surprised by the entrance of a farmer's wife, + who, without much ceremony, seated herself, and began this curious + harangue. + </p> + <p> + “I'm come to see if as how you can pay your rent, because as how we hear + Captain Montable is gone away, and it's fifty to one if he b'ant killed + afore he comes back again; an then, Miss, or Ma'am, or whatever you may + be, as I was saying to my husband, where are we to look for our money.” + </p> + <p> + This was a stroke altogether unexpected by Charlotte: she knew so little + of the ways of the world that she had never bestowed a thought on the + payment for the rent of the house; she knew indeed that she owed a good + deal, but this was never reckoned among the others: she was + thunder-struck; she hardly knew what answer to make, yet it was absolutely + necessary that she should say something; and judging of the gentleness of + every female disposition by her own, she thought the best way to interest + the woman in her favour would be to tell her candidly to what a situation + she was reduced, and how little probability there was of her ever paying + any body. + </p> + <p> + Alas poor Charlotte, how confined was her knowledge of human nature, or + she would have been convinced that the only way to insure the friendship + and assistance of your surrounding acquaintance is to convince them you do + not require it, for when once the petrifying aspect of distress and penury + appear, whose qualities, like Medusa's head, can change to stone all that + look upon it; when once this Gorgon claims acquaintance with us, the + phantom of friendship, that before courted our notice, will vanish into + unsubstantial air, and the whole world before us appear a barren waste. + Pardon me, ye dear spirits of benevolence, whose benign smiles and + cheerful-giving hand have strewed sweet flowers on many a thorny path + through which my wayward fate forced me to pass; think not, that, in + condemning the unfeeling texture of the human heart, I forget the spring + from whence flow an the comforts I enjoy: oh no! I look up to you as to + bright constellations, gathering new splendours from the surrounding + darkness; but ah! whilst I adore the benignant rays that cheered and + illumined my heart, I mourn that their influence cannot extend to all the + sons and daughters of affliction. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Madam,” said poor Charlotte in a tremulous accent, “I am at a + loss what to do. Montraville placed me here, and promised to defray all my + expenses: but he has forgot his promise, he has forsaken me, and I have no + friend who has either power or will to relieve me. Let me hope, as you see + my unhappy situation, your charity—” + </p> + <p> + “Charity,” cried the woman impatiently interrupting her, “charity indeed: + why, Mistress, charity begins at home, and I have seven children at home, + HONEST, LAWFUL children, and it is my duty to keep them; and do you think + I will give away my property to a nasty, impudent hussey, to maintain her + and her bastard; an I was saying to my husband the other day what will + this world come to; honest women are nothing now-a-days, while the + harlotings are set up for fine ladies, and look upon us no more nor the + dirt they walk upon: but let me tell you, my fine spoken Ma'am, I must + have my money; so seeing as how you can't pay it, why you must troop, and + leave all your fine gimcracks and fal der ralls behind you. I don't ask + for no more nor my right, and nobody shall dare for to go for to hinder me + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh heavens,” cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, “what will become of + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Come on ye!” retorted the unfeeling wretch: “why go to the barracks and + work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers cloaths, an cook + their victuals, and not expect to live in idleness on honest people's + means. Oh I wish I could see the day when all such cattle were obliged to + work hard and eat little; it's only what they deserve.” + </p> + <p> + “Father of mercy,” cried Charlotte, “I acknowledge thy correction just; + but prepare me, I beseech thee, for the portion of misery thou may'st + please to lay upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the woman, “I shall go an tell my husband as how you can't + pay; and so d'ye see, Ma'am, get ready to be packing away this very night, + for you should not stay another night in this house, though I was sure you + would lay in the street.” + </p> + <p> + Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the anguish of her heart was too + great to permit her to articulate a single word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep, + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep. +WHEN Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course she +must take, or to whom she could apply, to prevent her perishing for +want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency of +the season. After many perplexed thoughts, she at last determined to +set out for New-York, and enquire out Mrs. Crayton, from whom she had no +doubt but she should obtain immediate relief as soon as her distress was +made known; she had no sooner formed this resolution than she resolved +immediately to put it in execution: she therefore wrote the following +little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thinking if she should have company with +her it would be better to send it in than to request to see her. +</pre> + <p> + TO MRS. CRAYTON. “MADAM, + </p> + <p> + “When we left our native land, that dear, happy land which now contains + all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same; + we both, pardon me, Madam, if I say, we both too easily followed the + impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on a + tempestuous ocean, where mine has been wrecked and lost for ever; you have + been more fortunate—you are united to a man of honour and humanity, + united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, and admired, and + surrounded by innumerable blessings of which I am bereaved, enjoying those + pleasures which have fled my bosom never to return; alas! sorrow and deep + regret have taken their place. Behold me, Madam, a poor forsaken wanderer, + who has no where to lay her weary head, wherewith to supply the wants of + nature, or to shield her from the inclemency of the weather. To you I sue, + to you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to be received as an intimate + or an equal; only for charity's sweet sake receive me into your hospitable + mansion, allot me the meanest apartment in it, and let me breath out my + soul in prayers for your happiness; I cannot, I feel I cannot long bear up + under the accumulated woes that pour in upon me; but oh! my dear Madam, + for the love of heaven suffer me not to expire in the street; and when I + am at peace, as soon I shall be, extend your compassion to my helpless + offspring, should it please heaven that it should survive its unhappy + mother. A gleam of joy breaks in on my benighted soul while I reflect that + you cannot, will not refuse your protection to the heart-broken. + CHARLOTTE.” + </p> + <p> + When Charlotte had finished this letter, late as it was in the afternoon, + and though the snow began to fall very fast, she tied up a few necessaries + which she had prepared against her expected confinement, and terrified + lest she should be again exposed to the insults of her barbarous landlady, + more dreadful to her wounded spirit than either storm or darkness, she set + forward for New-York. + </p> + <p> + It may be asked by those, who, in a work of this kind, love to cavil at + every trifling omission, whether Charlotte did not possess any valuable of + which she could have disposed, and by that means have supported herself + till Mrs. Beauchamp's return, when she would have been certain of + receiving every tender attention which compassion and friendship could + dictate: but let me entreat these wise, penetrating gentlemen to reflect, + that when Charlotte left England, it was in such haste that there was no + time to purchase any thing more than what was wanted for immediate use on + the voyage, and after her arrival at New-York, Montraville's affection + soon began to decline, so that her whole wardrobe consisted of only + necessaries, and as to baubles, with which fond lovers often load their + mistresses, she possessed not one, except a plain gold locket of small + value, which contained a lock of her mother's hair, and which the greatest + extremity of want could not have forced her to part with. + </p> + <p> + I hope, Sir, your prejudices are now removed in regard to the probability + of my story? Oh they are. Well then, with your leave, I will proceed. + </p> + <p> + The distance from the house which our suffering heroine occupied, to + New-York, was not very great, yet the snow fen so fast, and the cold so + intense, that, being unable from her situation to walk quick, she found + herself almost sinking with cold and fatigue before she reached the town; + her garments, which were merely suitable to the summer season, being an + undress robe of plain white muslin, were wet through, and a thin black + cloak and bonnet, very improper habiliments for such a climate, but poorly + defended her from the cold. In this situation she reached the city, and + enquired of a foot soldier whom she met, the way to Colonel Crayton's. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, my sweet lady,” said the soldier with a voice and look of + compassion, “I will shew you the way with all my heart; but if you are + going to make a petition to Madam Crayton it is all to no purpose I assure + you: if you please I will conduct you to Mr. Franklin's; though Miss Julia + is married and gone now, yet the old gentleman is very good.” + </p> + <p> + “Julia Franklin,” said Charlotte; “is she not married to Montraville?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the soldier, “and may God bless them, for a better officer + never lived, he is so good to us all; and as to Miss Julia, all the poor + folk almost worshipped her.” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious heaven,” cried Charlotte, “is Montraville unjust then to none + but me.” + </p> + <p> + The soldier now shewed her Colonel Crayton's door, and, with a beating + heart, she knocked for admission. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI. + </h2> + <h3> + SUBJECT CONTINUED. + </h3> + <p> + WHEN the door was opened, Charlotte, in a voice rendered scarcely + articulate, through cold and the extreme agitation of her mind, demanded + whether Mrs. Crayton was at home. The servant hesitated: he knew that his + lady was engaged at a game of picquet with her dear Corydon, nor could he + think she would like to be disturbed by a person whose appearance spoke + her of so little consequence as Charlotte; yet there was something in her + countenance that rather interested him in her favour, and he said his lady + was engaged, but if she had any particular message he would deliver it. + </p> + <p> + “Take up this letter,” said Charlotte: “tell her the unhappy writer of it + waits in her hall for an answer.” The tremulous accent, the tearful eye, + must have moved any heart not composed of adamant. The man took the letter + from the poor suppliant, and hastily ascended the stair case. + </p> + <p> + “A letter, Madam,” said he, presenting it to his lady: “an immediate + answer is required.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carelessly over the contents. “What stuff is + this;” cried she haughtily; “have not I told you a thousand times that I + will not be plagued with beggars, and petitions from people one knows + nothing about? Go tell the woman I can't do any thing in it. I'm sorry, + but one can't relieve every body.” + </p> + <p> + The servant bowed, and heavily returned with this chilling message to + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said she, “Mrs. Crayton has not read my letter. Go, my good + friend, pray go back to her; tell her it is Charlotte Temple who requests + beneath her hospitable roof to find shelter from the inclemency of the + season.” + </p> + <p> + “Prithee, don't plague me, man,” cried Mrs. Crayton impatiently, as the + servant advanced something in behalf of the unhappy girl. “I tell you I + don't know her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not know me,” cried Charlotte, rushing into the room, (for she had + followed the man up stairs) “not know me, not remember the ruined + Charlotte Temple, who, but for you, perhaps might still have been + innocent, still have been happy. Oh! La Rue, this is beyond every thing I + could have believed possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honour, Miss,” replied the unfeeling woman with the utmost + effrontery, “this is a most unaccountable address: it is beyond my + comprehension. John,” continued she, turning to the servant, “the young + woman is certainly out of her senses: do pray take her away, she terrifies + me to death.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh God,” cried Charlotte, clasping her hands in an agony, “this is too + much; what will become of me? but I will not leave you; they shall not + tear me from you; here on my knees I conjure you to save me from perishing + in the streets; if you really have forgot me, oh for charity's sweet sake + this night let me be sheltered from the winter's piercing cold.” The + kneeling figure of Charlotte in her affecting situation might have moved + the heart of a stoic to compassion; but Mrs. Crayton remained inflexible. + In vain did Charlotte recount the time they had known each other at + Chichester, in vain mention their being in the same ship, in vain were the + names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned. Mrs. Crayton could only say + she was sorry for her imprudence, but could not think of having her own + reputation endangered by encouraging a woman of that kind in her own + house, besides she did not know what trouble and expense she might bring + upon her husband by giving shelter to a woman in her situation. + </p> + <p> + “I can at least die here,” said Charlotte, “I feel I cannot long survive + this dreadful conflict. Father of mercy, here let me finish my existence.” + Her agonizing sensations overpowered her, and she fell senseless on the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Take her away,” said Mrs. Crayton, “she will really frighten me into + hysterics; take her away I say this instant.” + </p> + <p> + “And where must I take the poor creature?” said the servant with a voice + and look of compassion. + </p> + <p> + “Any where,” cried she hastily, “only don't let me ever see her again. I + declare she has flurried me so I shan't be myself again this fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + John, assisted by his fellow-servant, raised and carried her down stairs. + “Poor soul,” said he, “you shall not lay in the street this night. I have + a bed and a poor little hovel, where my wife and her little ones rest + them, but they shall watch to night, and you shall be sheltered from + danger.” They placed her in a chair; and the benevolent man, assisted by + one of his comrades, carried her to the place where his wife and children + lived. A surgeon was sent for: he bled her, she gave signs of returning + life, and before the dawn gave birth to a female infant. After this event + she lay for some hours in a kind of stupor; and if at any time she spoke, + it was with a quickness and incoherence that plainly evinced the total + deprivation of her reason. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII. + </h2> + <h3> + REASONS WHY AND WHEREFORE. + </h3> + <p> + THE reader of sensibility may perhaps be astonished to find Mrs. Crayton + could so positively deny any knowledge of Charlotte; it is therefore but + just that her conduct should in some measure be accounted for. She had + ever been fully sensible of the superiority of Charlotte's sense and + virtue; she was conscious that she had never swerved from rectitude, had + it not been for her bad precepts and worse example. These were things as + yet unknown to her husband, and she wished not to have that part of her + conduct exposed to him, as she had great reason to fear she had already + lost considerable part of that power she once maintained over him. She + trembled whilst Charlotte was in the house, lest the Colonel should + return; she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested in her + favour whilst on their passage from England, and made no doubt, but, + should he see her in her present distress, he would offer her an asylum, + and protect her to the utmost of his power. In that case she feared the + unguarded nature of Charlotte might discover to the Colonel the part she + had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement, and she well knew the contrast + between her own and Charlotte's conduct would make the former appear in no + very respectable light. Had she reflected properly, she would have + afforded the poor girl protection; and by enjoining her silence, ensured + it by acts of repeated kindness; but vice in general blinds its votaries, + and they discover their real characters to the world when they are most + studious to preserve appearances. + </p> + <p> + Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton: her servants made no scruple of + mentioning the cruel conduct of their lady to a poor distressed lunatic + who claimed her protection; every one joined in reprobating her + inhumanity; nay even Corydon thought she might at least have ordered her + to be taken care of, but he dare not even hint it to her, for he lived but + in her smiles, and drew from her lavish fondness large sums to support an + extravagance to which the state of his own finances was very inadequate; + it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton to be very + liberal in her bounty to the afflicted suppliant; yet vice had not so + entirely seared over his heart, but the sorrows of Charlotte could find a + vulnerable part. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte had now been three days with her humane preservers, but she was + totally insensible of every thing: she raved incessantly for Montraville + and her father: she was not conscious of being a mother, nor took the + least notice of her child except to ask whose it was, and why it was not + carried to its parents. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said she one day, starting up on hearing the infant cry, “why, why + will you keep that child here; I am sure you would not if you knew how + hard it was for a mother to be parted from her infant: it is like tearing + the cords of life asunder. Oh could you see the horrid sight which I now + behold—there there stands my dear mother, her poor bosom bleeding at + every vein, her gentle, affectionate heart torn in a thousand pieces, and + all for the loss of a ruined, ungrateful child. Save me save me—from + her frown. I dare not—indeed I dare not speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the dreadful images that haunted her distracted mind, and nature + was sinking fast under the dreadful malady which medicine had no power to + remove. The surgeon who attended her was a humane man; he exerted his + utmost abilities to save her, but he saw she was in want of many + necessaries and comforts, which the poverty of her hospitable host + rendered him unable to provide: he therefore determined to make her + situation known to some of the officers' ladies, and endeavour to make a + collection for her relief. + </p> + <p> + When he returned home, after making this resolution, he found a message + from Mrs. Beauchamp, who had just arrived from Rhode-Island, requesting he + would call and see one of her children, who was very unwell. “I do not + know,” said he, as he was hastening to obey the summons, “I do not know a + woman to whom I could apply with more hope of success than Mrs. Beauchamp. + I will endeavour to interest her in this poor girl's behalf, she wants the + soothing balm of friendly consolation: we may perhaps save her; we will + try at least.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is she,” cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed something + for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, “where is she, Sir? we + will go to her immediately. Heaven forbid that I should be deaf to the + calls of humanity. Come we will go this instant.” Then seizing the + doctor's arm, they sought the habitation that contained the dying + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII. + </h2> + <h3> + WHICH PEOPLE VOID OF FEELING NEED NOT READ. + </h3> + <p> + WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp entered the apartment of the poor sufferer, she + started back with horror. On a wretched bed, without hangings and but + poorly supplied with covering, lay the emaciated figure of what still + retained the semblance of a lovely woman, though sickness had so altered + her features that Mrs. Beauchamp had not the least recollection of her + person. In one corner of the room stood a woman washing, and, shivering + over a small fire, two healthy but half naked children; the infant was + asleep beside its mother, and, on a chair by the bed side, stood a + porrenger and wooden spoon, containing a little gruel, and a tea-cup with + about two spoonfulls of wine in it. Mrs. Beauchamp had never before beheld + such a scene of poverty; she shuddered involuntarily, and exclaiming—“heaven + preserve us!” leaned on the back of a chair ready to sink to the earth. + The doctor repented having so precipitately brought her into this + affecting scene; but there was no time for apologies: Charlotte caught the + sound of her voice, and starting almost out of bed, exclaimed—“Angel + of peace and mercy, art thou come to deliver me? Oh, I know you are, for + whenever you was near me I felt eased of half my sorrows; but you don't + know me, nor can I, with all the recollection I am mistress of, remember + your name just now, but I know that benevolent countenance, and the + softness of that voice which has so often comforted the wretched + Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp had, during the time Charlotte was speaking, seated herself + on the bed and taken one of her hands; she looked at her attentively, and + at the name of Charlotte she perfectly conceived the whole shocking + affair. A faint sickness came over her. “Gracious heaven,” said she, “is + this possible?” and bursting into tears, she reclined the burning head of + Charlotte on her own bosom; and folding her arms about her, wept over her + in silence. “Oh,” said Charlotte, “you are very good to weep thus for me: + it is a long time since I shed a tear for myself: my head and heart are + both on fire, but these tears of your's seem to cool and refresh it. Oh + now I remember you said you would send a letter to my poor father: do you + think he ever received it? or perhaps you have brought me an answer: why + don't you speak, Madam? Does he say I may go home? Well he is very good; I + shall soon be ready.” + </p> + <p> + She then made an effort to get out of bed; but being prevented, her frenzy + again returned, and she raved with the greatest wildness and incoherence. + Mrs. Beauchamp, finding it was impossible for her to be removed, contented + herself with ordering the apartment to be made more comfortable, and + procuring a proper nurse for both mother and child; and having learnt the + particulars of Charlotte's fruitless application to Mrs. Crayton from + honest John, she amply rewarded him for his benevolence, and returned home + with a heart oppressed with many painful sensations, but yet rendered easy + by the reflexion that she had performed her duty towards a distressed + fellow-creature. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning she again visited Charlotte, and found her + tolerably composed; she called her by name, thanked her for her goodness, + and when her child was brought to her, pressed it in her arms, wept over + it, and called it the offspring of disobedience. Mrs. Beauchamp was + delighted to see her so much amended, and began to hope she might recover, + and, spite of her former errors, become an useful and respectable member + of society; but the arrival of the doctor put an end to these delusive + hopes: he said nature was making her last effort, and a few hours would + most probably consign the unhappy girl to her kindred dust. + </p> + <p> + Being asked how she found herself, she replied—“Why better, much + better, doctor. I hope now I have but little more to suffer. I had last + night a few hours sleep, and when I awoke recovered the full power of + recollection. I am quite sensible of my weakness; I feel I have but little + longer to combat with the shafts of affliction. I have an humble + confidence in the mercy of him who died to save the world, and trust that + my sufferings in this state of mortality, joined to my unfeigned + repentance, through his mercy, have blotted my offences from the sight of + my offended maker. I have but one care—my poor infant! Father of + mercy,” continued she, raising her eyes, “of thy infinite goodness, grant + that the sins of the parent be not visited on the unoffending child. May + those who taught me to despise thy laws be forgiven; lay not my offences + to their charge, I beseech thee; and oh! shower the choicest of thy + blessings on those whose pity has soothed the afflicted heart, and made + easy even the bed of pain and sickness.” + </p> + <p> + She was exhausted by this fervent address to the throne of mercy, and + though her lips still moved her voice became inarticulate: she lay for + some time as it were in a doze, and then recovering, faintly pressed Mrs. + Beauchamp's hand, and requested that a clergyman might be sent for. + </p> + <p> + On his arrival she joined fervently in the pious office, frequently + mentioning her ingratitude to her parents as what lay most heavy at her + heart. When she had performed the last solemn duty, and was preparing to + lie down, a little bustle on the outside door occasioned Mrs. Beauchamp to + open it, and enquire the cause. A man in appearance about forty, presented + himself, and asked for Mrs. Beauchamp. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, Sir,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Oh then, my dear Madam,” cried he, “tell me where I may find my poor, + ruined, but repentant child.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beauchamp was surprised and affected; she knew not what to say; she + foresaw the agony this interview would occasion Mr. Temple, who had just + arrived in search of his Charlotte, and yet was sensible that the pardon + and blessing of her father would soften even the agonies of death to the + daughter. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. “Tell me, Madam,” cried he wildly, “tell me, I beseech + thee, does she live? shall I see my darling once again? Perhaps she is in + this house. Lead, lead me to her, that I may bless her, and then lie down + and die.” + </p> + <p> + The ardent manner in which he uttered these words occasioned him to raise + his voice. It caught the ear of Charlotte: she knew the beloved sound: and + uttering a loud shriek, she sprang forward as Mr. Temple entered the room. + “My adored father.” “My long lost child.” Nature could support no more, + and they both sunk lifeless into the arms of the attendants. + </p> + <p> + Charlotte was again put into bed, and a few moments restored Mr. Temple: + but to describe the agony of his sufferings is past the power of any one, + who, though they may readily conceive, cannot delineate the dreadful + scene. Every eye gave testimony of what each heart felt—but all were + silent. + </p> + <p> + When Charlotte recovered, she found herself supported in her father's + arms. She cast on him a most expressive look, but was unable to speak. A + reviving cordial was administered. She then asked in a low voice, for her + child: it was brought to her: she put it in her father's arms. “Protect + her,” said she, “and bless your dying—” + </p> + <p> + Unable to finish the sentence, she sunk back on her pillow: her + countenance was serenely composed; she regarded her father as he pressed + the infant to his breast with a steadfast look; a sudden beam of joy + passed across her languid features, she raised her eyes to heaven—and + then closed them for ever. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV. + </h2> + <h3> + RETRIBUTION. + </h3> + <p> + IN the mean time Montraville having received orders to return to New-York, + arrived, and having still some remains of compassionate tenderness for the + woman whom he regarded as brought to shame by himself, he went out in + search of Belcour, to enquire whether she was safe, and whether the child + lived. He found him immersed in dissipation, and could gain no other + intelligence than that Charlotte had left him, and that he knew not what + was become of her. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot believe it possible,” said Montraville, “that a mind once so + pure as Charlotte Temple's, should so suddenly become the mansion of vice. + Beware, Belcour,” continued he, “beware if you have dared to behave either + unjust or dishonourably to that poor girl, your life shall pay the + forfeit:—I will revenge her cause.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately went into the country, to the house where he had left + Charlotte. It was desolate. After much enquiry he at length found the + servant girl who had lived with her. From her he learnt the misery + Charlotte had endured from the complicated evils of illness, poverty, and + a broken heart, and that she had set out on foot for New-York, on a cold + winter's evening; but she could inform him no further. + </p> + <p> + Tortured almost to madness by this shocking account, he returned to the + city, but, before he reached it, the evening was drawing to a close. In + entering the town he was obliged to pass several little huts, the + residence of poor women who supported themselves by washing the cloaths of + the officers and soldiers. It was nearly dark: he heard from a + neighbouring steeple a solemn toll that seemed to say some poor mortal was + going to their last mansion: the sound struck on the heart of Montraville, + and he involuntarily stopped, when, from one of the houses, he saw the + appearance of a funeral. Almost unknowing what he did, he followed at a + small distance; and as they let the coffin into the grave, he enquired of + a soldier who stood by, and had just brushed off a tear that did honour to + his heart, who it was that was just buried. “An please your honour,” said + the man, “'tis a poor girl that was brought from her friends by a cruel + man, who left her when she was big with child, and married another.” + Montraville stood motionless, and the man proceeded—“I met her + myself not a fortnight since one night all wet and cold in the streets; + she went to Madam Crayton's, but she would not take her in, and so the + poor thing went raving mad.” Montraville could bear no more; he struck his + hands against his forehead with violence; and exclaiming “poor murdered + Charlotte!” ran with precipitation towards the place where they were + heaping the earth on her remains. “Hold, hold, one moment,” said he. + “Close not the grave of the injured Charlotte Temple till I have taken + vengeance on her murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “Rash young man,” said Mr. Temple, “who art thou that thus disturbest the + last mournful rites of the dead, and rudely breakest in upon the grief of + an afflicted father.” + </p> + <p> + “If thou art the father of Charlotte Temple,” said he, gazing at him with + mingled horror and amazement—“if thou art her father—I am + Montraville.” Then falling on his knees, he continued—“Here is my + bosom. I bare it to receive the stroke I merit. Strike—strike now, + and save me from the misery of reflexion.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Mr. Temple, “if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own + reflexions be thy punishment. I wrest not the power from the hand of + omnipotence. Look on that little heap of earth, there hast thou buried the + only joy of a fond father. Look at it often; and may thy heart feel such + true sorrow as shall merit the mercy of heaven.” He turned from him; and + Montraville starting up from the ground, where he had thrown himself, and + at that instant remembering the perfidy of Belcour, flew like lightning to + his lodgings. Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville impetuous: they fought, + and the sword of the latter entered the heart of his adversary. He fell, + and expired almost instantly. Montraville had received a slight wound; and + overcome with the agitation of his mind and loss of blood, was carried in + a state of insensibility to his distracted wife. A dangerous illness and + obstinate delirium ensued, during which he raved incessantly for + Charlotte: but a strong constitution, and the tender assiduities of Julia, + in time overcame the disorder. He recovered; but to the end of his life + was subject to severe fits of melancholy, and while he remained at + New-York frequently retired to the church-yard, where he would weep over + the grave, and regret the untimely fate of the lovely Charlotte Temple. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <p> + SHORTLY after the interment of his daughter, Mr. Temple, with his dear + little charge and her nurse, set forward for England. It would be + impossible to do justice to the meeting scene between him, his Lucy, and + her aged father. Every heart of sensibility can easily conceive their + feelings. After the first tumult of grief was subsided, Mrs. Temple gave + up the chief of her time to her grand-child, and as she grew up and + improved, began to almost fancy she again possessed her Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and Mrs. + Temple, having buried their father, were obliged to come to London on + particular business, and brought the little Lucy with them. They had been + walking one evening, when on their return they found a poor wretch sitting + on the steps of the door. She attempted to rise as they approached, but + from extreme weakness was unable, and after several fruitless efforts fell + back in a fit. Mr. Temple was not one of those men who stand to consider + whether by assisting an object in distress they shall not inconvenience + themselves, but instigated by the impulse of a noble feeling heart, + immediately ordered her to be carried into the house, and proper + restoratives applied. + </p> + <p> + She soon recovered; and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Temple, cried—“You + know not, Madam, what you do; you know not whom you are relieving, or you + would curse me in the bitterness of your heart. Come not near me, Madam, I + shall contaminate you. I am the viper that stung your peace. I am the + woman who turned the poor Charlotte out to perish in the street. Heaven + have mercy! I see her now,” continued she looking at Lucy; “such, such was + the fair bud of innocence that my vile arts blasted ere it was half + blown.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain that Mr. and Mrs. Temple intreated her to be composed and + to take some refreshment. She only drank half a glass of wine; and then + told them that she had been separated from her husband seven years, the + chief of which she had passed in riot, dissipation, and vice, till, + overtaken by poverty and sickness, she had been reduced to part with every + valuable, and thought only of ending her life in a prison; when a + benevolent friend paid her debts and released her; but that her illness + increasing, she had no possible means of supporting herself, and her + friends were weary of relieving her. “I have fasted,” said she, “two days, + and last night lay my aching head on the cold pavement: indeed it was but + just that I should experience those miseries myself which I had + unfeelingly inflicted on others.” + </p> + <p> + Greatly as Mr. Temple had reason to detest Mrs. Crayton, he could not + behold her in this distress without some emotions of pity. He gave her + shelter that night beneath his hospitable roof, and the next day got her + admission into an hospital; where having lingered a few weeks, she died, a + striking example that vice, however prosperous in the beginning, in the + end leads only to misery and shame. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + +***** This file should be named 171-h.htm or 171-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/171/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> @@ -0,0 +1,4492 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Charlotte Temple + +Author: Susanna Rowson + +Release Date: March 12, 2006 [EBook #171] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + + + + + +CHARLOTTE TEMPLE + +By Susanna Haswell Rowson + + + +Contents: + +CHAPTER I. A Boarding School. + +CHAPTER II. Domestic Concerns. + +CHAPTER III. Unexpected Misfortunes. + +CHAPTER IV. Change of Fortune. + +CHAPTER V. Such Things Are. + +CHAPTER VI. An Intriguing Teacher. + +CHAPTER VII. Natural Sense of Propriety Inherent in the Female Bosom. + +CHAPTER VIII. Domestic Pleasures Planned. + +CHAPTER IX. We Know Not What a Day May Bring Forth. + +CHAPTER X. When We Have Excited Curiosity, It Is But an Act of +Good Nature to Gratify it. + +CHAPTER XI. Conflict of Love and Duty. + +CHAPTER XII. Nature's last, best gift: Creature in whom excell'd, +whatever could To sight or thought be nam'd! Holy, divine! good, +amiable, and sweet! How thou art falln'!-- + +CHAPTER XIII. Cruel Disappointment. + +CHAPTER XIV. Maternal Sorrow. + +CHAPTER XV. Embarkation. + +CHAPTER XVI. Necessary Digression. + +CHAPTER XVII. A Wedding. + + +VOLUME II. + +CHAPTER XVIII. Reflections. + +CHAPTER XIX. A Mistake Discovered. + +CHAPTER XX. Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth her +hand to raise a fallen sister. Chapter of Accidents. + +CHAPTER XXI. Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see, +That mercy I to others show That mercy show to me. POPE. + +CHAPTER XXII. Sorrows of the Heart. + +CHAPTER XXIII. A Man May Smile, and Smile, and Be a Villain. + +CHAPTER XXIV. Mystery Developed. + +CHAPTER XXV. Reception of a Letter. + +CHAPTER XXVI. What Might Be Expected. + +CHAPTER XXVII. Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, Like a +fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + +CHAPTER XXVIII. A Trifling Retrospect. + +CHAPTER XXIX. We Go Forward Again. + +CHAPTER XXX. And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to +sleep, A shade that follows wealth and fame, But leaves the wretch to +weep. + +CHAPTER XXXI. Subject Continued. + +CHAPTER XXXII. Reasons Why and Wherefore. + +CHAPTER XXXIII. Which People Void of Feeling Need Not Read. + +CHAPTER XXXIV. Retribution. + +CHAPTER XXXV. Conclusion. + + + + + +PREFACE. + +FOR the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex, this Tale +of Truth is designed; and I could wish my fair readers to consider it as +not merely the effusion of Fancy, but as a reality. The circumstances +on which I have founded this novel were related to me some little time +since by an old lady who had personally known Charlotte, though she +concealed the real names of the characters, and likewise the place where +the unfortunate scenes were acted: yet as it was impossible to offer a +relation to the public in such an imperfect state, I have thrown over +the whole a slight veil of fiction, and substituted names and places +according to my own fancy. The principal characters in this little tale +are now consigned to the silent tomb: it can therefore hurt the feelings +of no one; and may, I flatter myself, be of service to some who are so +unfortunate as to have neither friends to advise, or understanding to +direct them, through the various and unexpected evils that attend a +young and unprotected woman in her first entrance into life. + +While the tear of compassion still trembled in my eye for the fate of +the unhappy Charlotte, I may have children of my own, said I, to +whom this recital may be of use, and if to your own children, said +Benevolence, why not to the many daughters of Misfortune who, deprived +of natural friends, or spoilt by a mistaken education, are thrown on an +unfeeling world without the least power to defend themselves from the +snares not only of the other sex, but from the more dangerous arts of +the profligate of their own. + +Sensible as I am that a novel writer, at a time when such a variety +of works are ushered into the world under that name, stands but a poor +chance for fame in the annals of literature, but conscious that I wrote +with a mind anxious for the happiness of that sex whose morals and +conduct have so powerful an influence on mankind in general; and +convinced that I have not wrote a line that conveys a wrong idea to +the head or a corrupt wish to the heart, I shall rest satisfied in the +purity of my own intentions, and if I merit not applause, I feel that I +dread not censure. + +If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from the errors +which ruined poor Charlotte, or rescue from impending misery the heart +of one anxious parent, I shall feel a much higher gratification in +reflecting on this trifling performance, than could possibly result +from the applause which might attend the most elegant finished piece +of literature whose tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the +understanding. + + + + +CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, + + + + +VOLUME I + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A BOARDING SCHOOL. + +"ARE you for a walk," said Montraville to his companion, as they arose +from table; "are you for a walk? or shall we order the chaise and +proceed to Portsmouth?" Belcour preferred the former; and they sauntered +out to view the town, and to make remarks on the inhabitants, as they +returned from church. + +Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his brother +officer: they had been to take leave of their friends previous to their +departure for America, and were now returning to Portsmouth, where the +troops waited orders for embarkation. They had stopped at Chichester +to dine; and knowing they had sufficient time to reach the place of +destination before dark, and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it +being Sunday afternoon, to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as +they returned from their devotions. + +They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return to the +inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, when +Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from the church. +Such an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally attracted the young +soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little cavalcade passed, almost +involuntarily pulled off their hats. A tall, elegant girl looked at +Montraville and blushed: he instantly recollected the features of +Charlotte Temple, whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at +Portsmouth. At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child, +she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made in +her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her cheeks as +she passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas. Vanity led him +to think that pleasure at again beholding him might have occasioned the +emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity led him to wish to see her +again. + +"She is the sweetest girl in the world," said he, as he entered the inn. +Belcour stared. "Did you not notice her?" continued Montraville: "she +had on a blue bonnet, and with a pair of lovely eyes of the same colour, +has contrived to make me feel devilish odd about the heart." + +"Pho," said Belcour, "a musket ball from our friends, the Americans, may +in less than two months make you feel worse." + +"I never think of the future," replied Montraville; "but am determined +to make the most of the present, and would willingly compound with any +kind Familiar who would inform me who the girl is, and how I might be +likely to obtain an interview." + +But no kind Familiar at that time appearing, and the chaise which they +had ordered, driving up to the door, Montraville and his companion were +obliged to take leave of Chichester and its fair inhabitant, and proceed +on their journey. + +But Charlotte had made too great an impression on his mind to be easily +eradicated: having therefore spent three whole days in thinking on her +and in endeavouring to form some plan for seeing her, he determined +to set off for Chichester, and trust to chance either to favour or +frustrate his designs. Arriving at the verge of the town, he dismounted, +and sending the servant forward with the horses, proceeded toward the +place, where, in the midst of an extensive pleasure ground, stood the +mansion which contained the lovely Charlotte Temple. Montraville leaned +on a broken gate, and looked earnestly at the house. The wall which +surrounded it was high, and perhaps the Argus's who guarded the +Hesperian fruit within, were more watchful than those famed of old. + +"'Tis a romantic attempt," said he; "and should I even succeed in seeing +and conversing with her, it can be productive of no good: I must of +necessity leave England in a few days, and probably may never return; +why then should I endeavour to engage the affections of this lovely +girl, only to leave her a prey to a thousand inquietudes, of which at +present she has no idea? I will return to Portsmouth and think no more +about her." + +The evening now was closed; a serene stillness reigned; and the +chaste Queen of Night with her silver crescent faintly illuminated the +hemisphere. The mind of Montraville was hushed into composure by the +serenity of the surrounding objects. "I will think on her no more," said +he, and turned with an intention to leave the place; but as he turned, +he saw the gate which led to the pleasure grounds open, and two women +come out, who walked arm-in-arm across the field. + +"I will at least see who these are," said he. He overtook them, and +giving them the compliments of the evening, begged leave to see them +into the more frequented parts of the town: but how was he delighted, +when, waiting for an answer, he discovered, under the concealment of a +large bonnet, the face of Charlotte Temple. + +He soon found means to ingratiate himself with her companion, who was a +French teacher at the school, and, at parting, slipped a letter he had +purposely written, into Charlotte's hand, and five guineas into that of +Mademoiselle, who promised she would endeavour to bring her young charge +into the field again the next evening. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +DOMESTIC CONCERNS. + +MR. Temple was the youngest son of a nobleman whose fortune was by no +means adequate to the antiquity, grandeur, and I may add, pride of the +family. He saw his elder brother made completely wretched by marrying a +disagreeable woman, whose fortune helped to prop the sinking dignity +of the house; and he beheld his sisters legally prostituted to old, +decrepid men, whose titles gave them consequence in the eyes of the +world, and whose affluence rendered them splendidly miserable. "I will +not sacrifice internal happiness for outward shew," said he: "I will +seek Content; and, if I find her in a cottage, will embrace her with as +much cordiality as I should if seated on a throne." + +Mr. Temple possessed a small estate of about five hundred pounds a year; +and with that he resolved to preserve independence, to marry where the +feelings of his heart should direct him, and to confine his expenses +within the limits of his income. He had a heart open to every generous +feeling of humanity, and a hand ready to dispense to those who wanted +part of the blessings he enjoyed himself. + +As he was universally known to be the friend of the unfortunate, his +advice and bounty was frequently solicited; nor was it seldom that he +sought out indigent merit, and raised it from obscurity, confining his +own expenses within a very narrow compass. + +"You are a benevolent fellow," said a young officer to him one day; "and +I have a great mind to give you a fine subject to exercise the goodness +of your heart upon." + +"You cannot oblige me more," said Temple, "than to point out any way by +which I can be serviceable to my fellow creatures." + +"Come along then," said the young man, "we will go and visit a man who +is not in so good a lodging as he deserves; and, were it not that he +has an angel with him, who comforts and supports him, he must long since +have sunk under his misfortunes." The young man's heart was too full +to proceed; and Temple, unwilling to irritate his feelings by making +further enquiries, followed him in silence, til they arrived at the +Fleet prison. + +The officer enquired for Captain Eldridge: a person led them up several +pair of dirty stairs, and pointing to a door which led to a miserable, +small apartment, said that was the Captain's room, and retired. + +The officer, whose name was Blakeney, tapped at the door, and was bid to +enter by a voice melodiously soft. He opened the door, and discovered to +Temple a scene which rivetted him to the spot with astonishment. + +The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, was +neat in the extreme. In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon his hand, +his eyes fixed on a book which lay open before him, sat an aged man in +a Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, would sooner call a +blush of shame into the face of those who could neglect real merit, than +cause the hectic of confusion to glow on the cheeks of him who wore it. + +Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount. She was +fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her cheek before it +was half blown. Her eyes were blue; and her hair, which was light brown, +was slightly confined under a plain muslin cap, tied round with a black +ribbon; a white linen gown and plain lawn handkerchief composed +the remainder of her dress; and in this simple attire, she was more +irresistibly charming to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have +been, if adorned with all the splendor of a courtly belle. + +When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking Blakeney +by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; and there +being but three in the room, seated himself on the side of his little +bed with evident composure. + +"This is a strange place," said he to Temple, "to receive visitors of +distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station. While I am +not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush +at my situation? Our misfortunes are not our faults; and were it not for +that poor girl--" + +Here the philosopher was lost in the father. He rose hastily from his +seat, and walking toward the window, wiped off a tear which he was +afraid would tarnish the cheek of a sailor. + +Temple cast his eye on Miss Eldridge: a pellucid drop had stolen from +her eyes, and fallen upon a rose she was painting. It blotted and +discoloured the flower. "'Tis emblematic," said he mentally: "the rose +of youth and health soon fades when watered by the tear of affliction." + +"My friend Blakeney," said he, addressing the old man, "told me I could +be of service to you: be so kind then, dear Sir, as to point out some +way in which I can relieve the anxiety of your heart and increase the +pleasures of my own." + +"My good young man," said Eldridge, "you know not what you offer. While +deprived of my liberty I cannot be free from anxiety on my own account; +but that is a trifling concern; my anxious thoughts extend to one more +dear a thousand times than life: I am a poor weak old man, and must +expect in a few years to sink into silence and oblivion; but when I am +gone, who will protect that fair bud of innocence from the blasts of +adversity, or from the cruel hand of insult and dishonour." + +"Oh, my father!" cried Miss Eldridge, tenderly taking his hand, "be not +anxious on that account; for daily are my prayers offered to heaven that +our lives may terminate at the same instant, and one grave receive us +both; for why should I live when deprived of my only friend." + +Temple was moved even to tears. "You will both live many years," said +he, "and I hope see much happiness. Cheerly, my friend, cheerly; these +passing clouds of adversity will serve only to make the sunshine of +prosperity more pleasing. But we are losing time: you might ere this +have told me who were your creditors, what were their demands, and other +particulars necessary to your liberation." + +"My story is short," said Mr. Eldridge, "but there are some particulars +which will wring my heart barely to remember; yet to one whose offers +of friendship appear so open and disinterested, I will relate every +circumstance that led to my present, painful situation. But my child," +continued he, addressing his daughter, "let me prevail on you to take +this opportunity, while my friends are with me, to enjoy the benefit of +air and exercise." + +"Go, my love; leave me now; to-morrow at your usual hour I will expect +you." + +Miss Eldridge impressed on his cheek the kiss of filial affection, and +obeyed. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +UNEXPECTED MISFORTUNES. + +"MY life," said Mr. Eldridge, "till within these few years was marked by +no particular circumstance deserving notice. I early embraced the life +of a sailor, and have served my King with unremitted ardour for many +years. At the age of twenty-five I married an amiable woman; one son, +and the girl who just now left us, were the fruits of our union. My +boy had genius and spirit. I straitened my little income to give him a +liberal education, but the rapid progress he made in his studies amply +compensated for the inconvenience. At the academy where he received his +education he commenced an acquaintance with a Mr. Lewis, a young man +of affluent fortune: as they grew up their intimacy ripened into +friendship, and they became almost inseparable companions. + +"George chose the profession of a soldier. I had neither friends or +money to procure him a commission, and had wished him to embrace a +nautical life: but this was repugnant to his wishes, and I ceased to +urge him on the subject. + +"The friendship subsisting between Lewis and my son was of such a nature +as gave him free access to our family; and so specious was his manner +that we hesitated not to state to him all our little difficulties in +regard to George's future views. He listened to us with attention, and +offered to advance any sum necessary for his first setting out. + +"I embraced the offer, and gave him my note for the payment of it, but +he would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time, as he said I +might do it whenever most convenient to myself. About this time my dear +Lucy returned from school, and I soon began to imagine Lewis looked at +her with eyes of affection. I gave my child a caution to beware of him, +and to look on her mother as her friend. She was unaffectedly artless; +and when, as I suspected, Lewis made professions of love, she confided +in her parents, and assured us her heart was perfectly unbiassed in his +favour, and she would cheerfully submit to our direction. + +"I took an early opportunity of questioning him concerning his +intentions towards my child: he gave an equivocal answer, and I forbade +him the house. + +"The next day he sent and demanded payment of his money. It was not in +my power to comply with the demand. I requested three days to endeavour +to raise it, determining in that time to mortgage my half pay, and live +on a small annuity which my wife possessed, rather than be under an +obligation to so worthless a man: but this short time was not allowed +me; for that evening, as I was sitting down to supper, unsuspicious of +danger, an officer entered, and tore me from the embraces of my family. + +"My wife had been for some time in a declining state of health: ruin at +once so unexpected and inevitable was a stroke she was not prepared to +bear, and I saw her faint into the arms of our servant, as I left my +own habitation for the comfortless walls of a prison. My poor Lucy, +distracted with her fears for us both, sunk on the floor and endeavoured +to detain me by her feeble efforts, but in vain; they forced open her +arms; she shrieked, and fell prostrate. But pardon me. The horrors of +that night unman me. I cannot proceed." + +He rose from his seat, and walked several times across the room: at +length, attaining more composure, he cried--"What a mere infant I am! +Why, Sir, I never felt thus in the day of battle." "No," said Temple; +"but the truly brave soul is tremblingly alive to the feelings of +humanity." + +"True," replied the old man, (something like satisfaction darting across +his features) "and painful as these feelings are, I would not exchange +them for that torpor which the stoic mistakes for philosophy. How many +exquisite delights should I have passed by unnoticed, but for these keen +sensations, this quick sense of happiness or misery? Then let us, my +friend, take the cup of life as it is presented to us, tempered by the +hand of a wise Providence; be thankful for the good, be patient under +the evil, and presume not to enquire why the latter predominates." + +"This is true philosophy," said Temple. + +"'Tis the only way to reconcile ourselves to the cross events of life," +replied he. "But I forget myself. I will not longer intrude on your +patience, but proceed in my melancholy tale. + +"The very evening that I was taken to prison, my son arrived from +Ireland, where he had been some time with his regiment. From the +distracted expressions of his mother and sister, he learnt by whom I +had been arrested; and, late as it was, flew on the wings of wounded +affection, to the house of his false friend, and earnestly enquired the +cause of this cruel conduct. With all the calmness of a cool deliberate +villain, he avowed his passion for Lucy; declared her situation in +life would not permit him to marry her; but offered to release me +immediately, and make any settlement on her, if George would persuade +her to live, as he impiously termed it, a life of honour. + +"Fired at the insult offered to a man and a soldier, my boy struck the +villain, and a challenge ensued. He then went to a coffee-house in +the neighbourhood and wrote a long affectionate letter to me, blaming +himself severely for having introduced Lewis into the family, or +permitted him to confer an obligation, which had brought inevitable +ruin on us all. He begged me, whatever might be the event of the ensuing +morning, not to suffer regret or unavailing sorrow for his fate, to +increase the anguish of my heart, which he greatly feared was already +insupportable. + +"This letter was delivered to me early in the morning. It would be vain +to attempt describing my feelings on the perusal of it; suffice it to +say, that a merciful Providence interposed, and I was for three weeks +insensible to miseries almost beyond the strength of human nature to +support. + +"A fever and strong delirium seized me, and my life was despaired of. At +length, nature, overpowered with fatigue, gave way to the salutary power +of rest, and a quiet slumber of some hours restored me to reason, though +the extreme weakness of my frame prevented my feeling my distress so +acutely as I otherways should. + +"The first object that struck me on awaking, was Lucy sitting by my +bedside; her pale countenance and sable dress prevented my enquiries for +poor George: for the letter I had received from him, was the first thing +that occurred to my memory. By degrees the rest returned: I recollected +being arrested, but could no ways account for being in this apartment, +whither they had conveyed me during my illness. + +"I was so weak as to be almost unable to speak. I pressed Lucy's hand, +and looked earnestly round the apartment in search of another dear +object. + +"Where is your mother?" said I, faintly. + +"The poor girl could not answer: she shook her head in expressive +silence; and throwing herself on the bed, folded her arms about me, and +burst into tears. + +"What! both gone?" said I. + +"Both," she replied, endeavouring to restrain her emotions: "but they +are happy, no doubt." + +Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection of the scene was too painful +to permit him to proceed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +CHANGE OF FORTUNE. + +"IT was some days," continued Mr. Eldridge, recovering himself, "before +I could venture to enquire the particulars of what had happened during +my illness: at length I assumed courage to ask my dear girl how long her +mother and brother had been dead: she told me, that the morning after +my arrest, George came home early to enquire after his mother's health, +staid with them but a few minutes, seemed greatly agitated at parting, +but gave them strict charge to keep up their spirits, and hope every +thing would turn out for the best. In about two hours after, as they +were sitting at breakfast, and endeavouring to strike out some plan to +attain my liberty, they heard a loud rap at the door, which Lucy running +to open, she met the bleeding body of her brother, borne in by two men +who had lifted him from a litter, on which they had brought him from +the place where he fought. Her poor mother, weakened by illness and the +struggles of the preceding night, was not able to support this shock; +gasping for breath, her looks wild and haggard, she reached the +apartment where they had carried her dying son. She knelt by the bed +side; and taking his cold hand, 'my poor boy,' said she, 'I will not be +parted from thee: husband! son! both at once lost. Father of mercies, +spare me!' She fell into a strong convulsion, and expired in about two +hours. In the mean time, a surgeon had dressed George's wounds; but they +were in such a situation as to bar the smallest hopes of recovery. He +never was sensible from the time he was brought home, and died that +evening in the arms of his sister. + +"Late as it was when this event took place, my affectionate Lucy +insisted on coming to me. 'What must he feel,' said she, 'at our +apparent neglect, and how shall I inform him of the afflictions with +which it has pleased heaven to visit us?' + +"She left the care of the dear departed ones to some neighbours who +had kindly come in to comfort and assist her; and on entering the house +where I was confined, found me in the situation I have mentioned. + +"How she supported herself in these trying moments, I know not: heaven, +no doubt, was with her; and her anxiety to preserve the life of one +parent in some measure abated her affliction for the loss of the other. + +"My circumstances were greatly embarrassed, my acquaintance few, +and those few utterly unable to assist me. When my wife and son were +committed to their kindred earth, my creditors seized my house and +furniture, which not being sufficient to discharge all their demands, +detainers were lodged against me. No friend stepped forward to my +relief; from the grave of her mother, my beloved Lucy followed an almost +dying father to this melancholy place. + +"Here we have been nearly a year and a half. My half-pay I have given +up to satisfy my creditors, and my child supports me by her industry: +sometimes by fine needlework, sometimes by painting. She leaves me +every night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge; but returns in +the morning, to cheer me with her smiles, and bless me by her duteous +affection. A lady once offered her an asylum in her family; but she +would not leave me. 'We are all the world to each other,' said she. 'I +thank God, I have health and spirits to improve the talents with which +nature has endowed me; and I trust if I employ them in the support of a +beloved parent, I shall not be thought an unprofitable servant. While he +lives, I pray for strength to pursue my employment; and when it pleases +heaven to take one of us, may it give the survivor resignation to bear +the separation as we ought: till then I will never leave him.'" + +"But where is this inhuman persecutor?" said Temple. + +"He has been abroad ever since," replied the old man; "but he has +left orders with his lawyer never to give up the note till the utmost +farthing is paid." + +"And how much is the amount of your debts in all?" said Temple. + +"Five hundred pounds," he replied. + +Temple started: it was more than he expected. "But something must be +done," said he: "that sweet maid must not wear out her life in a prison. +I will see you again to-morrow, my friend," said he, shaking Eldridge's +hand: "keep up your spirits: light and shade are not more happily +blended than are the pleasures and pains of life; and the horrors of the +one serve only to increase the splendor of the other." + +"You never lost a wife and son," said Eldridge. + +"No," replied he, "but I can feel for those that have." Eldridge pressed +his hand as they went toward the door, and they parted in silence. + +When they got without the walls of the prison, Temple thanked his friend +Blakeney for introducing him to so worthy a character; and telling him +he had a particular engagement in the city, wished him a good evening. + +"And what is to be done for this distressed man," said Temple, as he +walked up Ludgate Hill. "Would to heaven I had a fortune that would +enable me instantly to discharge his debt: what exquisite transport, to +see the expressive eyes of Lucy beaming at once with pleasure for her +father's deliverance, and gratitude for her deliverer: but is not my +fortune affluence," continued he, "nay superfluous wealth, when compared +to the extreme indigence of Eldridge; and what have I done to deserve +ease and plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? Three +hundred a year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes: at any +rate Eldridge must be relieved." + +When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute a good +action. + +Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; unacquainted +with the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being +convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy. He pitied their sufferings, +overlooked their faults, thought every bosom as generous as his own, and +would cheerfully have divided his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow +creature. + +No wonder, then, that such a man (without waiting a moment for the +interference of Madam Prudence) should resolve to raise money sufficient +for the relief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part of his fortune. + +We will not enquire too minutely into the cause which might actuate +him in this instance: suffice it to say, he immediately put the plan in +execution; and in three days from the time he first saw the unfortunate +Lieutenant, he had the superlative felicity of seeing him at liberty, +and receiving an ample reward in the tearful eye and half articulated +thanks of the grateful Lucy. + +"And pray, young man," said his father to him one morning, "what are +your designs in visiting thus constantly that old man and his daughter?" + +Temple was at a loss for a reply: he had never asked himself the +question: he hesitated; and his father continued-- + +"It was not till within these few days that I heard in what manner +your acquaintance first commenced, and cannot suppose any thing but +attachment to the daughter could carry you such imprudent lengths for +the father: it certainly must be her art that drew you in to mortgage +part of your fortune." + +"Art, Sir!" cried Temple eagerly. "Lucy Eldridge is as free from art as +she is from every other error: she is--" + +"Everything that is amiable and lovely," said his father, interrupting +him ironically: "no doubt in your opinion she is a pattern of excellence +for all her sex to follow; but come, Sir, pray tell me what are your +designs towards this paragon. I hope you do not intend to complete your +folly by marrying her." + +"Were my fortune such as would support her according to her merit, +I don't know a woman more formed to insure happiness in the married +state." + +"Then prithee, my dear lad," said his father, "since your rank and +fortune are so much beneath what your PRINCESS might expect, be so kind +as to turn your eyes on Miss Weatherby; who, having only an estate of +three thousand a year, is more upon a level with you, and whose father +yesterday solicited the mighty honour of your alliance. I shall leave +you to consider on this offer; and pray remember, that your union with +Miss Weatherby will put it in your power to be more liberally the friend +of Lucy Eldridge." + +The old gentleman walked in a stately manner out of the room; and Temple +stood almost petrified with astonishment, contempt, and rage. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +SUCH THINGS ARE. + +MISS Weatherby was the only child of a wealthy man, almost idolized by +her parents, flattered by her dependants, and never contradicted even +by those who called themselves her friends: I cannot give a better +description than by the following lines. + + The lovely maid whose form and face + Nature has deck'd with ev'ry grace, + But in whose breast no virtues glow, + Whose heart ne'er felt another's woe, + Whose hand ne'er smooth'd the bed of pain, + Or eas'd the captive's galling chain; + But like the tulip caught the eye, + Born just to be admir'd and die; + When gone, no one regrets its loss, + Or scarce remembers that it was. + +Such was Miss Weatherby: her form lovely as nature could make it, but +her mind uncultivated, her heart unfeeling, her passions impetuous, and +her brain almost turned with flattery, dissipation, and pleasure; and +such was the girl, whom a partial grandfather left independent mistress +of the fortune before mentioned. + +She had seen Temple frequently; and fancying she could never be happy +without him, nor once imagining he could refuse a girl of her beauty and +fortune, she prevailed on her fond father to offer the alliance to the +old Earl of D----, Mr. Temple's father. + +The Earl had received the offer courteously: he thought it a great match +for Henry; and was too fashionable a man to suppose a wife could be any +impediment to the friendship he professed for Eldridge and his daughter. + +Unfortunately for Temple, he thought quite otherwise: the conversation +he had just had with his father, discovered to him the situation of +his heart; and he found that the most affluent fortune would bring no +increase of happiness unless Lucy Eldridge shared it with him; and the +knowledge of the purity of her sentiments, and the integrity of his own +heart, made him shudder at the idea his father had started, of marrying +a woman for no other reason than because the affluence of her fortune +would enable him to injure her by maintaining in splendor the woman +to whom his heart was devoted: he therefore resolved to refuse Miss +Weatherby, and be the event what it might, offer his heart and hand to +Lucy Eldridge. + +Full of this determination, he fought his father, declared his +resolution, and was commanded never more to appear in his presence. +Temple bowed; his heart was too full to permit him to speak; he left the +house precipitately, and hastened to relate the cause of his sorrows to +his good old friend and his amiable daughter. + +In the mean time, the Earl, vexed to the soul that such a fortune should +be lost, determined to offer himself a candidate for Miss Weatherby's +favour. + +What wonderful changes are wrought by that reigning power, ambition! the +love-sick girl, when first she heard of Temple's refusal, wept, raved, +tore her hair, and vowed to found a protestant nunnery with her fortune; +and by commencing abbess, shut herself up from the sight of cruel +ungrateful man for ever. + +Her father was a man of the world: he suffered this first transport to +subside, and then very deliberately unfolded to her the offers of the +old Earl, expatiated on the many benefits arising from an elevated +title, painted in glowing colours the surprise and vexation of Temple +when he should see her figuring as a Countess and his mother-in-law, and +begged her to consider well before she made any rash vows. + +The DISTRESSED fair one dried her tears, listened patiently, and at +length declared she believed the surest method to revenge the slight put +on her by the son, would be to accept the father: so said so done, and +in a few days she became the Countess D----. + +Temple heard the news with emotion: he had lost his father's favour +by avowing his passion for Lucy, and he saw now there was no hope of +regaining it: "but he shall not make me miserable," said he. "Lucy and I +have no ambitious notions: we can live on three hundred a year for +some little time, till the mortgage is paid off, and then we shall have +sufficient not only for the comforts but many of the little elegancies +of life. We will purchase a little cottage, my Lucy," said he, "and +thither with your reverend father we will retire; we will forget there +are such things as splendor, profusion, and dissipation: we will have +some cows, and you shall be queen of the dairy; in a morning, while I +look after my garden, you shall take a basket on your arm, and sally +forth to feed your poultry; and as they flutter round you in token of +humble gratitude, your father shall smoke his pipe in a woodbine alcove, +and viewing the serenity of your countenance, feel such real pleasure +dilate his own heart, as shall make him forget he had ever been +unhappy." + +Lucy smiled; and Temple saw it was a smile of approbation. He sought +and found a cottage suited to his taste; thither, attended by Love and +Hymen, the happy trio retired; where, during many years of uninterrupted +felicity, they cast not a wish beyond the little boundaries of their own +tenement. Plenty, and her handmaid, Prudence, presided at their board, +Hospitality stood at their gate, Peace smiled on each face, Content +reigned in each heart, and Love and Health strewed roses on their +pillows. + +Such were the parents of Charlotte Temple, who was the only pledge of +their mutual love, and who, at the earnest entreaty of a particular +friend, was permitted to finish the education her mother had begun, +at Madame Du Pont's school, where we first introduced her to the +acquaintance of the reader. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +AN INTRIGUING TEACHER. + +MADAME Du Pont was a woman every way calculated to take the care of +young ladies, had that care entirely devolved on herself; but it was +impossible to attend the education of a numerous school without proper +assistants; and those assistants were not always the kind of people +whose conversation and morals were exactly such as parents of delicacy +and refinement would wish a daughter to copy. Among the teachers +at Madame Du Pont's school, was Mademoiselle La Rue, who added to a +pleasing person and insinuating address, a liberal education and the +manners of a gentlewoman. She was recommended to the school by a lady +whose humanity overstepped the bounds of discretion: for though she +knew Miss La Rue had eloped from a convent with a young officer, and, on +coming to England, had lived with several different men in open defiance +of all moral and religious duties; yet, finding her reduced to the +most abject want, and believing the penitence which she professed to be +sincere, she took her into her own family, and from thence recommended +her to Madame Du Pont, as thinking the situation more suitable for +a woman of her abilities. But Mademoiselle possessed too much of the +spirit of intrigue to remain long without adventures. At church, where +she constantly appeared, her person attracted the attention of a young +man who was upon a visit at a gentleman's seat in the neighbourhood: she +had met him several times clandestinely; and being invited to come out +that evening, and eat some fruit and pastry in a summer-house belonging +to the gentleman he was visiting, and requested to bring some of +the ladies with her, Charlotte being her favourite, was fixed on to +accompany her. + +The mind of youth eagerly catches at promised pleasure: pure and +innocent by nature, it thinks not of the dangers lurking beneath +those pleasures, till too late to avoid them: when Mademoiselle asked +Charlotte to go with her, she mentioned the gentleman as a relation, +and spoke in such high terms of the elegance of his gardens, the +sprightliness of his conversation, and the liberality with which he ever +entertained his guests, that Charlotte thought only of the pleasure she +should enjoy in the visit,--not on the imprudence of going without her +governess's knowledge, or of the danger to which she exposed herself in +visiting the house of a gay young man of fashion. + +Madame Du Pont was gone out for the evening, and the rest of the ladies +retired to rest, when Charlotte and the teacher stole out at the back +gate, and in crossing the field, were accosted by Montraville, as +mentioned in the first CHAPTER. + +Charlotte was disappointed in the pleasure she had promised herself +from this visit. The levity of the gentlemen and the freedom of +their conversation disgusted her. She was astonished at the liberties +Mademoiselle permitted them to take; grew thoughtful and uneasy, and +heartily wished herself at home again in her own chamber. + +Perhaps one cause of that wish might be, an earnest desire to see the +contents of the letter which had been put into her hand by Montraville. + +Any reader who has the least knowledge of the world, will easily +imagine the letter was made up of encomiums on her beauty, and vows of +everlasting love and constancy; nor will he be surprised that a heart +open to every gentle, generous sentiment, should feel itself warmed by +gratitude for a man who professed to feel so much for her; nor is it +improbable but her mind might revert to the agreeable person and martial +appearance of Montraville. + +In affairs of love, a young heart is never in more danger than +when attempted by a handsome young soldier. A man of an indifferent +appearance, will, when arrayed in a military habit, shew to advantage; +but when beauty of person, elegance of manner, and an easy method of +paying compliments, are united to the scarlet coat, smart cockade, and +military sash, ah! well-a-day for the poor girl who gazes on him: she +is in imminent danger; but if she listens to him with pleasure, 'tis all +over with her, and from that moment she has neither eyes nor ears for +any other object. + +Now, my dear sober matron, (if a sober matron should deign to turn over +these pages, before she trusts them to the eye of a darling daughter,) +let me intreat you not to put on a grave face, and throw down the book +in a passion and declare 'tis enough to turn the heads of half the girls +in England; I do solemnly protest, my dear madam, I mean no more by +what I have here advanced, than to ridicule those romantic girls, who +foolishly imagine a red coat and silver epaulet constitute the fine +gentleman; and should that fine gentleman make half a dozen fine +speeches to them, they will imagine themselves so much in love as +to fancy it a meritorious action to jump out of a two pair of stairs +window, abandon their friends, and trust entirely to the honour of a +man, who perhaps hardly knows the meaning of the word, and if he does, +will be too much the modern man of refinement, to practice it in their +favour. + +Gracious heaven! when I think on the miseries that must rend the heart +of a doating parent, when he sees the darling of his age at first +seduced from his protection, and afterwards abandoned, by the very +wretch whose promises of love decoyed her from the paternal roof--when +he sees her poor and wretched, her bosom tom between remorse for her +crime and love for her vile betrayer--when fancy paints to me the good +old man stooping to raise the weeping penitent, while every tear from +her eye is numbered by drops from his bleeding heart, my bosom glows +with honest indignation, and I wish for power to extirpate those +monsters of seduction from the earth. + +Oh my dear girls--for to such only am I writing--listen not to the voice +of love, unless sanctioned by paternal approbation: be assured, it is +now past the days of romance: no woman can be run away with contrary +to her own inclination: then kneel down each morning, and request kind +heaven to keep you free from temptation, or, should it please to suffer +you to be tried, pray for fortitude to resist the impulse of inclination +when it runs counter to the precepts of religion and virtue. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +NATURAL SENSE OF PROPRIETY INHERENT IN THE FEMALE BOSOM. + +"I CANNOT think we have done exactly right in going out this evening, +Mademoiselle," said Charlotte, seating herself when she entered her +apartment: "nay, I am sure it was not right; for I expected to be very +happy, but was sadly disappointed." + +"It was your own fault, then," replied Mademoiselle: "for I am sure +my cousin omitted nothing that could serve to render the evening +agreeable." + +"True," said Charlotte: "but I thought the gentlemen were very free in +their manner: I wonder you would suffer them to behave as they did." + +"Prithee, don't be such a foolish little prude," said the artful woman, +affecting anger: "I invited you to go in hopes it would divert you, and +be an agreeable change of scene; however, if your delicacy was hurt by +the behaviour of the gentlemen, you need not go again; so there let it +rest." + +"I do not intend to go again," said Charlotte, gravely taking off her +bonnet, and beginning to prepare for bed: "I am sure, if Madame Du Pont +knew we had been out to-night, she would be very angry; and it is ten to +one but she hears of it by some means or other." + +"Nay, Miss," said La Rue, "perhaps your mighty sense of propriety may +lead you to tell her yourself: and in order to avoid the censure you +would incur, should she hear of it by accident, throw the blame on +me: but I confess I deserve it: it will be a very kind return for that +partiality which led me to prefer you before any of the rest of the +ladies; but perhaps it will give you pleasure," continued she, letting +fall some hypocritical tears, "to see me deprived of bread, and for an +action which by the most rigid could only be esteemed an inadvertency, +lose my place and character, and be driven again into the world, where I +have already suffered all the evils attendant on poverty." + +This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnerable part: she rose from +her seat, and taking Mademoiselle's hand--"You know, my dear La Rue," +said she, "I love you too well, to do anything that would injure you in +my governess's opinion: I am only sorry we went out this evening." + +"I don't believe it, Charlotte," said she, assuming a little vivacity; +"for if you had not gone out, you would not have seen the gentleman who +met us crossing the field; and I rather think you were pleased with his +conversation." + +"I had seen him once before," replied Charlotte, "and thought him an +agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see a person with +whom one has passed several cheerful hours. But," said she pausing, +and drawing the letter from her pocket, while a gentle suffusion of +vermillion tinged her neck and face, "he gave me this letter; what shall +I do with it?" + +"Read it, to be sure," returned Mademoiselle. + +"I am afraid I ought not," said Charlotte: "my mother has often told +me, I should never read a letter given me by a young man, without first +giving it to her." + +"Lord bless you, my dear girl," cried the teacher smiling, "have you +a mind to be in leading strings all your life time. Prithee open the +letter, read it, and judge for yourself; if you show it your mother, the +consequence will be, you will be taken from school, and a strict guard +kept over you; so you will stand no chance of ever seeing the smart +young officer again." + +"I should not like to leave school yet," replied Charlotte, "till I have +attained a greater proficiency in my Italian and music. But you can, if +you please, Mademoiselle, take the letter back to Montraville, and +tell him I wish him well, but cannot, with any propriety, enter into a +clandestine correspondence with him." She laid the letter on the table, +and began to undress herself. + +"Well," said La Rue, "I vow you are an unaccountable girl: have you +no curiosity to see the inside now? for my part I could no more let a +letter addressed to me lie unopened so long, than I could work miracles: +he writes a good hand," continued she, turning the letter, to look at +the superscription. + +"'Tis well enough," said Charlotte, drawing it towards her. + +"He is a genteel young fellow," said La Rue carelessly, folding up her +apron at the same time; "but I think he is marked with the small pox." + +"Oh you are greatly mistaken," said Charlotte eagerly; "he has a +remarkable clear skin and fine complexion." + +"His eyes, if I could judge by what I saw," said La Rue, "are grey and +want expression." + +"By no means," replied Charlotte; "they are the most expressive eyes +I ever saw." "Well, child, whether they are grey or black is of no +consequence: you have determined not to read his letter; so it is likely +you will never either see or hear from him again." + +Charlotte took up the letter, and Mademoiselle continued-- + +"He is most probably going to America; and if ever you should hear any +account of him, it may possibly be that he is killed; and though he +loved you ever so fervently, though his last breath should be spent in +a prayer for your happiness, it can be nothing to you: you can feel +nothing for the fate of the man, whose letters you will not open, and +whose sufferings you will not alleviate, by permitting him to think you +would remember him when absent, and pray for his safety." + +Charlotte still held the letter in her hand: her heart swelled at the +conclusion of Mademoiselle's speech, and a tear dropped upon the wafer +that closed it. + +"The wafer is not dry yet," said she, "and sure there can be no great +harm--" She hesitated. La Rue was silent. "I may read it, Mademoiselle, +and return it afterwards." + +"Certainly," replied Mademoiselle. + +"At any rate I am determined not to answer it," continued Charlotte, as +she opened the letter. + +Here let me stop to make one remark, and trust me my very heart aches +while I write it; but certain I am, that when once a woman has stifled +the sense of shame in her own bosom, when once she has lost sight of the +basis on which reputation, honour, every thing that should be dear to +the female heart, rests, she grows hardened in guilt, and will spare +no pains to bring down innocence and beauty to the shocking level with +herself: and this proceeds from that diabolical spirit of envy, which +repines at seeing another in the full possession of that respect and +esteem which she can no longer hope to enjoy. + +Mademoiselle eyed the unsuspecting Charlotte, as she perused the letter, +with a malignant pleasure. She saw, that the contents had awakened new +emotions in her youthful bosom: she encouraged her hopes, calmed her +fears, and before they parted for the night, it was determined that she +should meet Montraville the ensuing evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +DOMESTIC PLEASURES PLANNED. + +"I THINK, my dear," said Mrs. Temple, laying her hand on her husband's +arm as they were walking together in the garden, "I think next Wednesday +is Charlotte's birth day: now I have formed a little scheme in my own +mind, to give her an agreeable surprise; and if you have no objection, +we will send for her home on that day." Temple pressed his wife's hand +in token of approbation, and she proceeded.--"You know the little alcove +at the bottom of the garden, of which Charlotte is so fond? I have an +inclination to deck this out in a fanciful manner, and invite all her +little friends to partake of a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, and other +things suitable to the general taste of young guests; and to make it +more pleasing to Charlotte, she shall be mistress of the feast, and +entertain her visitors in this alcove. I know she will be delighted; and +to complete all, they shall have some music, and finish with a dance." + +"A very fine plan, indeed," said Temple, smiling; "and you really +suppose I will wink at your indulging the girl in this manner? You will +quite spoil her, Lucy; indeed you will." + +"She is the only child we have," said Mrs. Temple, the whole tenderness +of a mother adding animation to her fine countenance; but it was withal +tempered so sweetly with the meek affection and submissive duty of the +wife, that as she paused expecting her husband's answer, he gazed at her +tenderly, and found he was unable to refuse her request. + +"She is a good girl," said Temple. + +"She is, indeed," replied the fond mother exultingly, "a grateful, +affectionate girl; and I am sure will never lose sight of the duty she +owes her parents." + +"If she does," said he, "she must forget the example set her by the best +of mothers." + +Mrs. Temple could not reply; but the delightful sensation that dilated +her heart sparkled in her intelligent eyes and heightened the vermillion +on her cheeks. + +Of all the pleasures of which the human mind is sensible, there is +none equal to that which warms and expands the bosom, when listening to +commendations bestowed on us by a beloved object, and are conscious of +having deserved them. + +Ye giddy flutterers in the fantastic round of dissipation, who eagerly +seek pleasure in the lofty dome, rich treat, and midnight revel--tell +me, ye thoughtless daughters of folly, have ye ever found the phantom +you have so long sought with such unremitted assiduity? Has she not +always eluded your grasp, and when you have reached your hand to take +the cup she extends to her deluded votaries, have you not found the +long-expected draught strongly tinctured with the bitter dregs of +disappointment? I know you have: I see it in the wan cheek, sunk +eye, and air of chagrin, which ever mark the children of dissipation. +Pleasure is a vain illusion; she draws you on to a thousand follies, +errors, and I may say vices, and then leaves you to deplore your +thoughtless credulity. + +Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white robe +devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, the +modesty of her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, Conjugal +Affection, Industry, and Benevolence; her name is CONTENT; she holds +in her hand the cup of true felicity, and when once you have formed an +intimate acquaintance with these her attendants, nay you must admit them +as your bosom friends and chief counsellors, then, whatever may be your +situation in life, the meek eyed Virgin wig immediately take up her +abode with you. + +Is poverty your portion?--she will lighten your labours, preside at your +frugal board, and watch your quiet slumbers. + +Is your state mediocrity?--she will heighten every blessing you enjoy, +by informing you how grateful you should be to that bountiful Providence +who might have placed you in the most abject situation; and, by teaching +you to weigh your blessings against your deserts, show you how much more +you receive than you have a right to expect. + +Are you possessed of affluence?--what an inexhaustible fund of happiness +will she lay before you! To relieve the distressed, redress the injured, +in short, to perform all the good works of peace and mercy. + +Content, my dear friends, will blunt even the arrows of adversity, so +that they cannot materially harm you. She will dwell in the humblest +cottage; she will attend you even to a prison. Her parent is Religion; +her sisters, Patience and Hope. She will pass with you through life, +smoothing the rough paths and tread to earth those thorns which every +one must meet with as they journey onward to the appointed goal. She +will soften the pains of sickness, continue with you even in the +cold gloomy hour of death, and, cheating you with the smiles of her +heaven-born sister, Hope, lead you triumphant to a blissful eternity. + +I confess I have rambled strangely from my story: but what of that? if +I have been so lucky as to find the road to happiness, why should I be +such a niggard as to omit so good an opportunity of pointing out the way +to others. The very basis of true peace of mind is a benevolent wish to +see all the world as happy as one's Self; and from my soul do I pity the +selfish churl, who, remembering the little bickerings of anger, envy, +and fifty other disagreeables to which frail mortality is subject, would +wish to revenge the affront which pride whispers him he has received. +For my own part, I can safely declare, there is not a human being in +the universe, whose prosperity I should not rejoice in, and to whose +happiness I would not contribute to the utmost limit of my power: and +may my offences be no more remembered in the day of general retribution, +than as from my soul I forgive every offence or injury received from a +fellow creature. + +Merciful heaven! who would exchange the rapture of such a reflexion for +all the gaudy tinsel which the world calls pleasure! + +But to return.--Content dwelt in Mrs. Temple's bosom, and spread a +charming animation over her countenance, as her husband led her in, to +lay the plan she had formed (for the celebration of Charlotte's birth +day,) before Mr. Eldridge. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +WE KNOW NOT WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH. + +VARIOUS were the sensations which agitated the mind of Charlotte, during +the day preceding the evening in which she was to meet Montraville. +Several times did she almost resolve to go to her governess, show her +the letter, and be guided by her advice: but Charlotte had taken one +step in the ways of imprudence; and when that is once done, there are +always innumerable obstacles to prevent the erring person returning to +the path of rectitude: yet these obstacles, however forcible they may +appear in general, exist chiefly in imagination. + +Charlotte feared the anger of her governess: she loved her mother, +and the very idea of incurring her displeasure, gave her the greatest +uneasiness: but there was a more forcible reason still remaining: should +she show the letter to Madame Du Pont, she must confess the means by +which it came into her possession; and what would be the consequence? +Mademoiselle would be turned out of doors. + +"I must not be ungrateful," said she. "La Rue is very kind to me; +besides I can, when I see Montraville, inform him of the impropriety of +our continuing to see or correspond with each other, and request him to +come no more to Chichester." + +However prudent Charlotte might be in these resolutions, she certainly +did not take a proper method to confirm herself in them. Several times +in the course of the day, she indulged herself in reading over the +letter, and each time she read it, the contents sunk deeper in her +heart. As evening drew near, she caught herself frequently consulting +her watch. "I wish this foolish meeting was over," said she, by way of +apology to her own heart, "I wish it was over; for when I have seen him, +and convinced him my resolution is not to be shaken, I shall feel my +mind much easier." + +The appointed hour arrived. Charlotte and Mademoiselle eluded the eye of +vigilance; and Montraville, who had waited their coming with impatience, +received them with rapturous and unbounded acknowledgments for their +condescension: he had wisely brought Belcour with him to entertain +Mademoiselle, while he enjoyed an uninterrupted conversation with +Charlotte. + +Belcour was a man whose character might be comprised in a few words; and +as he will make some figure in the ensuing pages, I shall here describe +him. He possessed a genteel fortune, and had a liberal education; +dissipated, thoughtless, and capricious, he paid little regard to +the moral duties, and less to religious ones: eager in the pursuit of +pleasure, he minded not the miseries he inflicted on others, provided +his own wishes, however extravagant, were gratified. Self, darling self, +was the idol he worshipped, and to that he would have sacrificed +the interest and happiness of all mankind. Such was the friend of +Montraville: will not the reader be ready to imagine, that the man who +could regard such a character, must be actuated by the same feelings, +follow the same pursuits, and be equally unworthy with the person to +whom he thus gave his confidence? + +But Montraville was a different character: generous in his disposition, +liberal in his opinions, and good-natured almost to a fault; yet eager +and impetuous in the pursuit of a favorite object, he staid not to +reflect on the consequence which might follow the attainment of his +wishes; with a mind ever open to conviction, had he been so fortunate +as to possess a friend who would have pointed out the cruelty of +endeavouring to gain the heart of an innocent artless girl, when he +knew it was utterly impossible for him to marry her, and when the +gratification of his passion would be unavoidable infamy and misery to +her, and a cause of never-ceasing remorse to himself: had these dreadful +consequences been placed before him in a proper light, the humanity of +his nature would have urged him to give up the pursuit: but Belcour +was not this friend; he rather encouraged the growing passion of +Montraville; and being pleased with the vivacity of Mademoiselle, +resolved to leave no argument untried, which he thought might prevail on +her to be the companion of their intended voyage; and he made no doubt +but her example, added to the rhetoric of Montraville, would persuade +Charlotte to go with them. + +Charlotte had, when she went out to meet Montraville, flattered herself +that her resolution was not to be shaken, and that, conscious of the +impropriety of her conduct in having a clandestine intercourse with a +stranger, she would never repeat the indiscretion. + +But alas! poor Charlotte, she knew not the deceitfulness of her own +heart, or she would have avoided the trial of her stability. + +Montraville was tender, eloquent, ardent, and yet respectful. "Shall I +not see you once more," said he, "before I leave England? will you not +bless me by an assurance, that when we are divided by a vast expanse of +sea I shall not be forgotten?" + +Charlotte sighed. + +"Why that sigh, my dear Charlotte? could I flatter myself that a fear +for my safety, or a wish for my welfare occasioned it, how happy would +it make me." + +"I shall ever wish you well, Montraville," said she; "but we must meet +no more." "Oh say not so, my lovely girl: reflect, that when I leave my +native land, perhaps a few short weeks may terminate my existence; the +perils of the ocean--the dangers of war--" + +"I can hear no more," said Charlotte in a tremulous voice. "I must leave +you." + +"Say you will see me once again." + +"I dare not," said she. + +"Only for one half hour to-morrow evening: 'tis my last request. I shall +never trouble you again, Charlotte." + +"I know not what to say," cried Charlotte, struggling to draw her hands +from him: "let me leave you now." + +"And you will come to-morrow," said Montraville. + +"Perhaps I may," said she. + +"Adieu then. I will live upon that hope till we meet again." + +He kissed her hand. She sighed an adieu, and catching hold of +Mademoiselle's arm, hastily entered the garden gate. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +WHEN WE HAVE EXCITED CURIOSITY, IT IS BUT AN ACT OF GOOD NATURE TO +GRATIFY IT. + +MONTRAVILLE was the youngest son of a gentleman of fortune, whose +family being numerous, he was obliged to bring up his sons to genteel +professions, by the exercise of which they might hope to raise +themselves into notice. + +"My daughters," said he, "have been educated like gentlewomen; and +should I die before they are settled, they must have some provision +made, to place them above the snares and temptations which vice ever +holds out to the elegant, accomplished female, when oppressed by the +frowns of poverty and the sting of dependance: my boys, with only +moderate incomes, when placed in the church, at the bar, or in the +field, may exert their talents, make themselves friends, and raise their +fortunes on the basis of merit." + +When Montraville chose the profession of arms, his father presented him +with a commission, and made him a handsome provision for his private +purse. "Now, my boy," said he, "go! seek glory in the field of battle. +You have received from me all I shall ever have it in my power to +bestow: it is certain I have interest to gain you promotion; but be +assured that interest shall never be exerted, unless by your future +conduct you deserve it. Remember, therefore, your success in life +depends entirely on yourself. There is one thing I think it my duty to +caution you against; the precipitancy with which young men frequently +rush into matrimonial engagements, and by their thoughtlessness draw +many a deserving woman into scenes of poverty and distress. A soldier +has no business to think of a wife till his rank is such as to place him +above the fear of bringing into the world a train of helpless innocents, +heirs only to penury and affliction. If, indeed, a woman, whose fortune +is sufficient to preserve you in that state of independence I would +teach you to prize, should generously bestow herself on a young soldier, +whose chief hope of future prosperity depended on his success in the +field--if such a woman should offer--every barrier is removed, and I +should rejoice in an union which would promise so much felicity. But +mark me, boy, if, on the contrary, you rush into a precipitate union +with a girl of little or no fortune, take the poor creature from a +comfortable home and kind friends, and plunge her into all the evils +a narrow income and increasing family can inflict, I will leave you to +enjoy the blessed fruits of your rashness; for by all that is sacred, +neither my interest or fortune shall ever be exerted in your favour. I +am serious," continued he, "therefore imprint this conversation on your +memory, and let it influence your future conduct. Your happiness will +always be dear to me; and I wish to warn you of a rock on which the +peace of many an honest fellow has been wrecked; for believe me, the +difficulties and dangers of the longest winter campaign are much easier +to be borne, than the pangs that would seize your heart, when you beheld +the woman of your choice, the children of your affection, involved +in penury and distress, and reflected that it was your own folly and +precipitancy had been the prime cause of their sufferings." + +As this conversation passed but a few hours before Montraville took +leave of his father, it was deeply impressed on his mind: when, +therefore, Belcour came with him to the place of assignation with +Charlotte, he directed him to enquire of the French woman what were Miss +Temple's expectations in regard to fortune. + +Mademoiselle informed him, that though Charlotte's father possessed a +genteel independence, it was by no means probable that he could give his +daughter more than a thousand pounds; and in case she did not marry to +his liking, it was possible he might not give her a single SOUS; nor +did it appear the least likely, that Mr. Temple would agree to her union +with a young man on the point of embarking for the feat of war. + +Montraville therefore concluded it was impossible he should ever marry +Charlotte Temple; and what end he proposed to himself by continuing the +acquaintance he had commenced with her, he did not at that moment give +himself time to enquire. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +CONFLICT OF LOVE AND DUTY. + +ALMOST a week was now gone, and Charlotte continued every evening to +meet Montraville, and in her heart every meeting was resolved to be the +last; but alas! when Montraville at parting would earnestly intreat one +more interview, that treacherous heart betrayed her; and, forgetful +of its resolution, pleaded the cause of the enemy so powerfully, that +Charlotte was unable to resist. Another and another meeting succeeded; +and so well did Montraville improve each opportunity, that the heedless +girl at length confessed no idea could be so painful to her as that of +never seeing him again. + +"Then we will never be parted," said he. + +"Ah, Montraville," replied Charlotte, forcing a smile, "how can it be +avoided? My parents would never consent to our union; and even could +they be brought to approve it, how should I bear to be separated from my +kind, my beloved mother?" + +"Then you love your parents more than you do me, Charlotte?" + +"I hope I do," said she, blushing and looking down, "I hope my affection +for them will ever keep me from infringing the laws of filial duty." + +"Well, Charlotte," said Montraville gravely, and letting go her hand, +"since that is the case, I find I have deceived myself with fallacious +hopes. I had flattered my fond heart, that I was dearer to Charlotte +than any thing in the world beside. I thought that you would for my sake +have braved the dangers of the ocean, that you would, by your affection +and smiles, have softened the hardships of war, and, had it been my fate +to fall, that your tenderness would cheer the hour of death, and smooth +my passage to another world. But farewel, Charlotte! I see you never +loved me. I shall now welcome the friendly ball that deprives me of the +sense of my misery." + +"Oh stay, unkind Montraville," cried she, catching hold of his arm, as +he pretended to leave her, "stay, and to calm your fears, I will here +protest that was it not for the fear of giving pain to the best of +parents, and returning their kindness with ingratitude, I would follow +you through every danger, and, in studying to promote your happiness, +insure my own. But I cannot break my mother's heart, Montraville; I must +not bring the grey hairs of my doating grand-father with sorrow to the +grave, or make my beloved father perhaps curse the hour that gave me +birth." She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. + +"All these distressing scenes, my dear Charlotte," cried Montraville, +"are merely the chimeras of a disturbed fancy. Your parents might +perhaps grieve at first; but when they heard from your own hand that you +was with a man of honour, and that it was to insure your felicity by an +union with him, to which you feared they would never have given their +assent, that you left their protection, they will, be assured, forgive +an error which love alone occasioned, and when we return from America, +receive you with open arms and tears of joy." + +Belcour and Mademoiselle heard this last speech, and conceiving it +a proper time to throw in their advice and persuasions, approached +Charlotte, and so well seconded the entreaties of Montraville, that +finding Mademoiselle intended going with Belcour, and feeling her own +treacherous heart too much inclined to accompany them, the hapless +Charlotte, in an evil hour, consented that the next evening they should +bring a chaise to the end of the town, and that she would leave her +friends, and throw herself entirely on the protection of Montraville. +"But should you," said she, looking earnestly at him, her eyes full +of tears, "should you, forgetful of your promises, and repenting the +engagements you here voluntarily enter into, forsake and leave me on a +foreign shore--" "Judge not so meanly of me," said he. "The moment we +reach our place of destination, Hymen shall sanctify our love; and when +I shall forget your goodness, may heaven forget me." + +"Ah," said Charlotte, leaning on Mademoiselle's arm as they walked up +the garden together, "I have forgot all that I ought to have remembered, +in consenting to this intended elopement." + +"You are a strange girl," said Mademoiselle: "you never know your +own mind two minutes at a time. Just now you declared Montraville's +happiness was what you prized most in the world; and now I suppose +you repent having insured that happiness by agreeing to accompany him +abroad." + +"Indeed I do repent," replied Charlotte, "from my soul: but while +discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges +me on to ruin." + +"Ruin! fiddlestick!" said Mademoiselle; "am I not going with you? and do +I feel any of these qualms?" + +"You do not renounce a tender father and mother," said Charlotte. + +"But I hazard my dear reputation," replied Mademoiselle, bridling. + +"True," replied Charlotte, "but you do not feel what I do." She then +bade her good night: but sleep was a stranger to her eyes, and the tear +of anguish watered her pillow. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + Nature's last, best gift: + Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could + To sight or thought be nam'd! + Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet! + How thou art fall'n!-- + +WHEN Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and pale cheek +discovered to Madame Du Pont the little repose she had tasted. + +"My dear child," said the affectionate governess, "what is the cause of +the languor so apparent in your frame? Are you not well?" + +"Yes, my dear Madam, very well," replied Charlotte, attempting to smile, +"but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last night, and my spirits +are depressed this morning." + +"Come cheer up, my love," said the governess; "I believe I have brought +a cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter from your good +mama, and here is one for yourself." + +Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words-- + +"As to-morrow is the anniversary of the happy day that gave my beloved +girl to the anxious wishes of a maternal heart, I have requested your +governess to let you come home and spend it with us; and as I know you +to be a good affectionate child, and make it your study to improve in +those branches of education which you know will give most pleasure to +your delighted parents, as a reward for your diligence and attention +I have prepared an agreeable surprise for your reception. Your +grand-father, eager to embrace the darling of his aged heart, will come +in the chaise for you; so hold yourself in readiness to attend him +by nine o'clock. Your dear father joins in every tender wish for your +health and future felicity, which warms the heart of my dear Charlotte's +affectionate mother, L. TEMPLE." + +"Gracious heaven!" cried Charlotte, forgetting where she was, and +raising her streaming eyes as in earnest supplication. + +Madame Du Pont was surprised. "Why these tears, my love?" said she. +"Why this seeming agitation? I thought the letter would have rejoiced, +instead of distressing you." + +"It does rejoice me," replied Charlotte, endeavouring at composure, "but +I was praying for merit to deserve the unremitted attentions of the best +of parents." + +"You do right," said Madame Du Pont, "to ask the assistance of +heaven that you may continue to deserve their love. Continue, my dear +Charlotte, in the course you have ever pursued, and you will insure at +once their happiness and your own." + +"Oh!" cried Charlotte, as her governess left her, "I have forfeited both +for ever! Yet let me reflect:--the irrevocable step is not yet taken: +it is not too late to recede from the brink of a precipice, from which I +can only behold the dark abyss of ruin, shame, and remorse!" + +She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La Rue. "Oh +Mademoiselle!" said she, "I am snatched by a miracle from destruction! +This letter has saved me: it has opened my eyes to the folly I was +so near committing. I will not go, Mademoiselle; I will not wound the +hearts of those dear parents who make my happiness the whole study of +their lives." + +"Well," said Mademoiselle, "do as you please, Miss; but pray understand +that my resolution is taken, and it is not in your power to alter it. +I shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed hour, and shall not be +surprized at any outrage which Montraville may commit, when he finds +himself disappointed. Indeed I should not be astonished, was he to come +immediately here, and reproach you for your instability in the hearing +of the whole school: and what will be the consequence? you will bear +the odium of having formed the resolution of eloping, and every girl +of spirit will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in execution, +while prudes and fools will load you with reproach and contempt. You +will have lost the confidence of your parents, incurred their anger, and +the scoffs of the world; and what fruit do you expect to reap from this +piece of heroism, (for such no doubt you think it is?) you will have the +pleasure to reflect, that you have deceived the man who adores you, +and whom in your heart you prefer to all other men, and that you are +separated from him for ever." + +This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that Charlotte +could not find an opportunity to interrupt her, or to offer a single +word till the whole was finished, and then found her ideas so confused, +that she knew not what to say. + +At length she determined that she would go with Mademoiselle to the +place of assignation, convince Montraville of the necessity of adhering +to the resolution of remaining behind; assure him of her affection, and +bid him adieu. + +Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and exulted in the certainty of +its success. "How shall I rejoice," said she, "in this triumph of reason +over inclination, and, when in the arms of my affectionate parents, lift +up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I look back on the dangers I have +escaped!" + +The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what money and +valuables she possessed in her pocket, and advised Charlotte to do +the same; but she refused; "my resolution is fixed," said she; "I will +sacrifice love to duty." + +Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they proceeded softly down the back +stairs and out of the garden gate. Montraville and Belcour were ready to +receive them. + +"Now," said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his arms, "you are mine for +ever." + +"No," said she, withdrawing from his embrace, "I am come to take an +everlasting farewel." + +It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued, suffice +it to say, that Montraville used every argument that had formerly been +successful, Charlotte's resolution began to waver, and he drew her +almost imperceptibly towards the chaise. + +"I cannot go," said she: "cease, dear Montraville, to persuade. I must +not: religion, duty, forbid." + +"Cruel Charlotte," said he, "if you disappoint my ardent hopes, by +all that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence. I +cannot--will not live without you." + +"Alas! my torn heart!" said Charlotte, "how shall I act?" + +"Let me direct you," said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise. + +"Oh! my dear forsaken parents!" cried Charlotte. + +The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms of her +betrayer. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT. + +"WHAT pleasure," cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise to go +for his grand-daughter, "what pleasure expands the heart of an old +man when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child growing up in every +virtue that adorned the minds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some +few years since, that every sense of joy was buried in the graves of my +dear partner and my son; but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed +my soul to peace, and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my +heart, and opened such new scenes of delight to my view, that I almost +forget I have ever been unhappy." + +When the chaise stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth; so much +do the emotions of the soul influence the body. + +It was half past eight o'clock; the ladies were assembled in the school +room, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer the morning sacrifice +of prayer and praise, when it was discovered, that Mademoiselle and +Charlotte were missing. + +"She is busy, no doubt," said the governess, "in preparing Charlotte for +her little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget our duty +to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers." + +The lady who went to summon them, soon returned, and informed +the governess, that the room was locked, and that she had knocked +repeatedly, but obtained no answer. + +"Good heaven!" cried Madame Du Pont, "this is very strange:" and turning +pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, and ordered it to be +forced open. The apartment instantly discovered, that no person had been +in it the preceding night, the beds appearing as though just made. +The house was instantly a scene of confusion: the garden, the pleasure +grounds were searched to no purpose, every apartment rang with the names +of Miss Temple and Mademoiselle; but they were too distant to hear; and +every face wore the marks of disappointment. + +Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlour, eagerly expecting his +grand-daughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: he heard +the confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name of Charlotte +frequently repeated. "What can be the matter?" said he, rising and +opening the door: "I fear some accident has befallen my dear girl." + +The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance +discovered that something extraordinary had happened. + +"Where is Charlotte?" said he, "Why does not my child come to welcome +her doating parent?" + +"Be composed, my dear Sir," said Madame Du Pont, "do not frighten +yourself unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; but as +Mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily return +in safety; and I hope they will both be able to account for this +unseasonable absence in such a manner as shall remove our present +uneasiness." + +"Madam," cried the old man, with an angry look, "has my child been +accustomed to go out without leave, with no other company or protector +than that French woman. Pardon me, Madam, I mean no reflections on your +country, but I never did like Mademoiselle La Rue; I think she was a +very improper person to be entrusted with the care of such a girl +as Charlotte Temple, or to be suffered to take her from under your +immediate protection." + +"You wrong me, Mr. Eldridge," replied she, "if you suppose I have ever +permitted your grand-daughter to go out unless with the other ladies. +I would to heaven I could form any probable conjecture concerning her +absence this morning, but it is a mystery which her return can alone +unravel." Servants were now dispatched to every place where there was +the least hope of hearing any tidings of the fugitives, but in vain. +Dreadful were the hours of horrid suspense which Mr. Eldridge passed +till twelve o'clock, when that suspense was reduced to a shocking +certainty, and every spark of hope which till then they had indulged, +was in a moment extinguished. + +Mr. Eldridge was preparing, with a heavy heart, to return to his +anxiously-expecting children, when Madame Du Pont received the following +note without either name or date. + +"Miss Temple is well, and wishes to relieve the anxiety of her +parents, by letting them know she has voluntarily put herself under +the protection of a man whose future study shall be to make her happy. +Pursuit is needless; the measures taken to avoid discovery are too +effectual to be eluded. When she thinks her friends are reconciled to +this precipitate step, they may perhaps be informed of her place of +residence. Mademoiselle is with her." + +As Madame Du Pont read these cruel lines, she turned pale as ashes, her +limbs trembled, and she was forced to call for a glass of water. She +loved Charlotte truly; and when she reflected on the innocence and +gentleness of her disposition, she concluded that it must have been +the advice and machinations of La Rue, which led her to this imprudent +action; she recollected her agitation at the receipt of her mother's +letter, and saw in it the conflict of her mind. + +"Does that letter relate to Charlotte?" said Mr. Eldridge, having waited +some time in expectation of Madame Du Pont's speaking. + +"It does," said she. "Charlotte is well, but cannot return today." + +"Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from her fond, +expecting parents?" + +"You distract me with these questions, Mr. Eldridge. Indeed I know not +where she is, or who has seduced her from her duty." + +The whole truth now rushed at once upon Mr. Eldridge's mind. "She has +eloped then," said he. "My child is betrayed; the darling, the comfort +of my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had died but yesterday." + +A violent gush of grief in some measure relieved him, and, after several +vain attempts, he at length assumed sufficient composure to read the +note. + +"And how shall I return to my children?" said he: "how approach that +mansion, so late the habitation of peace? Alas! my dear Lucy, how will +you support these heart-rending tidings? or how shall I be enabled to +console you, who need so much consolation myself?" + +The old man returned to the chaise, but the light step and cheerful +countenance were no more; sorrow filled his heart, and guided his +motions; he seated himself in the chaise, his venerable head reclined +upon his bosom, his hands were folded, his eye fixed on vacancy, and +the large drops of sorrow rolled silently down his cheeks. There was a +mixture of anguish and resignation depicted in his countenance, as if he +would say, henceforth who shall dare to boast his happiness, or even +in idea contemplate his treasure, lest, in the very moment his heart is +exulting in its own felicity, the object which constitutes that felicity +should be torn from him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +MATERNAL SORROW. + +SLOW and heavy passed the time while the carriage was conveying Mr. +Eldridge home; and yet when he came in sight of the house, he wished a +longer reprieve from the dreadful task of informing Mr. and Mrs. Temple +of their daughter's elopement. + +It is easy to judge the anxiety of these affectionate parents, when they +found the return of their father delayed so much beyond the expected +time. They were now met in the dining parlour, and several of the young +people who had been invited were already arrived. Each different part of +the company was employed in the same manner, looking out at the windows +which faced the road. At length the long-expected chaise appeared. Mrs. +Temple ran out to receive and welcome her darling: her young companions +flocked round the door, each one eager to give her joy on the return +of her birth-day. The door of the chaise was opened: Charlotte was not +there. "Where is my child?" cried Mrs. Temple, in breathless agitation. + +Mr. Eldridge could not answer: he took hold of his daughter's hand and +led her into the house; and sinking on the first chair he came to, burst +into tears, and sobbed aloud. + +"She is dead," cried Mrs. Temple. "Oh my dear Charlotte!" and clasping +her hands in an agony of distress, fell into strong hysterics. + +Mr. Temple, who had stood speechless with surprize and fear, now +ventured to enquire if indeed his Charlotte was no more. Mr. Eldridge +led him into another apartment; and putting the fatal note into +his hand, cried--"Bear it like a Christian," and turned from him, +endeavouring to suppress his own too visible emotions. + +It would be vain to attempt describing what Mr. Temple felt whilst he +hastily ran over the dreadful lines: when he had finished, the paper +dropt from his unnerved hand. "Gracious heaven!" said he, "could +Charlotte act thus?" Neither tear nor sigh escaped him; and he sat +the image of mute sorrow, till roused from his stupor by the repeated +shrieks of Mrs. Temple. He rose hastily, and rushing into the apartment +where she was, folded his arms about her, and saying--"Let us be +patient, my dear Lucy," nature relieved his almost bursting heart by a +friendly gush of tears. + +Should any one, presuming on his own philosophic temper, look with an +eye of contempt on the man who could indulge a woman's weakness, let him +remember that man was a father, and he will then pity the misery which +wrung those drops from a noble, generous heart. + +Mrs. Temple beginning to be a little more composed, but still imagining +her child was dead, her husband, gently taking her hand, cried--"You are +mistaken, my love. Charlotte is not dead." + +"Then she is very ill, else why did she not come? But I will go to her: +the chaise is still at the door: let me go instantly to the dear girl. +If I was ill, she would fly to attend me, to alleviate my sufferings, +and cheer me with her love." + +"Be calm, my dearest Lucy, and I will tell you all," said Mr. Temple. +"You must not go, indeed you must not; it will be of no use." + +"Temple," said she, assuming a look of firmness and composure, "tell +me the truth I beseech you. I cannot bear this dreadful suspense. What +misfortune has befallen my child? Let me know the worst, and I will +endeavour to bear it as I ought." + +"Lucy," replied Mr. Temple, "imagine your daughter alive, and in no +danger of death: what misfortune would you then dread?" + +"There is one misfortune which is worse than death. But I know my child +too well to suspect--" + +"Be not too confident, Lucy." + +"Oh heavens!" said she, "what horrid images do you start: is it possible +she should forget--" + +"She has forgot us all, my love; she has preferred the love of a +stranger to the affectionate protection of her friends. + +"Not eloped?" cried she eagerly. + +Mr. Temple was silent. + +"You cannot contradict it," said she. "I see my fate in those tearful +eyes. Oh Charlotte! Charlotte! how ill have you requited our tenderness! +But, Father of Mercies," continued she, sinking on her knees, and +raising her streaming eyes and clasped hands to heaven, "this once +vouchsafe to hear a fond, a distracted mother's prayer. Oh let thy +bounteous Providence watch over and protect the dear thoughtless girl, +save her from the miseries which I fear will be her portion, and oh! +of thine infinite mercy, make her not a mother, lest she should one day +feel what I now suffer." + +The last words faultered on her tongue, and she fell fainting into the +arms of her husband, who had involuntarily dropped on his knees beside +her. + +A mother's anguish, when disappointed in her tenderest hopes, none but +a mother can conceive. Yet, my dear young readers, I would have you read +this scene with attention, and reflect that you may yourselves one day +be mothers. Oh my friends, as you value your eternal happiness, wound +not, by thoughtless ingratitude, the peace of the mother who bore you: +remember the tenderness, the care, the unremitting anxiety with which +she has attended to all your wants and wishes from earliest infancy to +the present day; behold the mild ray of affectionate applause that beams +from her eye on the performance of your duty: listen to her reproofs +with silent attention; they proceed from a heart anxious for your future +felicity: you must love her; nature, all-powerful nature, has planted +the seeds of filial affection in your bosoms. + +Then once more read over the sorrows of poor Mrs. Temple, and remember, +the mother whom you so dearly love and venerate will feel the same, when +you, forgetful of the respect due to your maker and yourself, forsake +the paths of virtue for those of vice and folly. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +EMBARKATION. + +IT was with the utmost difficulty that the united efforts of +Mademoiselle and Montraville could support Charlotte's spirits during +their short ride from Chichester to Portsmouth, where a boat waited to +take them immediately on board the ship in which they were to embark for +America. + +As soon as she became tolerably composed, she entreated pen and ink +to write to her parents. This she did in the most affecting, artless +manner, entreating their pardon and blessing, and describing +the dreadful situation of her mind, the conflict she suffered in +endeavouring to conquer this unfortunate attachment, and concluded +with saying, her only hope of future comfort consisted in the (perhaps +delusive) idea she indulged, of being once more folded in their +protecting arms, and hearing the words of peace and pardon from their +lips. + +The tears streamed incessantly while she was writing, and she was +frequently obliged to lay down her pen: but when the task was completed, +and she had committed the letter to the care of Montraville to be sent +to the post office, she became more calm, and indulging the delightful +hope of soon receiving an answer that would seal her pardon, she in some +measure assumed her usual cheerfulness. + +But Montraville knew too well the consequences that must unavoidably +ensue, should this letter reach Mr. Temple: he therefore wisely resolved +to walk on the deck, tear it in pieces, and commit the fragments to the +care of Neptune, who might or might not, as it suited his convenience, +convey them on shore. + +All Charlotte's hopes and wishes were now concentred in one, namely that +the fleet might be detained at Spithead till she could receive a letter +from her friends: but in this she was disappointed, for the second +morning after she went on board, the signal was made, the fleet weighed +anchor, and in a few hours (the wind being favourable) they bid adieu to +the white cliffs of Al-bion. + +In the mean time every enquiry that could be thought of was made by Mr. +and Mrs. Temple; for many days did they indulge the fond hope that she +was merely gone off to be married, and that when the indissoluble knot +was once tied, she would return with the partner she had chosen, and +entreat their blessing and forgiveness. + +"And shall we not forgive her?" said Mr. Temple. + +"Forgive her!" exclaimed the mother. "Oh yes, whatever be our errors, +is she not our child? and though bowed to the earth even with shame +and remorse, is it not our duty to raise the poor penitent, and whisper +peace and comfort to her desponding soul? would she but return, with +rapture would I fold her to my heart, and bury every remembrance of her +faults in the dear embrace." + +But still day after day passed on, and Charlotte did not appear, +nor were any tidings to be heard of her: yet each rising morning was +welcomed by some new hope--the evening brought with it disappointment. +At length hope was no more; despair usurped her place; and the mansion +which was once the mansion of peace, became the habitation of pale, +dejected melancholy. + +The cheerful smile that was wont to adorn the face of Mrs. Temple was +fled, and had it not been for the support of unaffected piety, and a +consciousness of having ever set before her child the fairest example, +she must have sunk under this heavy affliction. + +"Since," said she, "the severest scrutiny cannot charge me with any +breach of duty to have deserved this severe chastisement, I will bow +before the power who inflicts it with humble resignation to his will; +nor shall the duty of a wife be totally absorbed in the feelings of the +mother; I will endeavour to appear more cheerful, and by appearing in +some measure to have conquered my own sorrow, alleviate the sufferings +of my husband, and rouse him from that torpor into which this misfortune +has plunged him. My father too demands my care and attention: I must +not, by a selfish indulgence of my own grief, forget the interest those +two dear objects take in my happiness or misery: I will wear a smile on +my face, though the thorn rankles in my heart; and if by so doing, I in +the smallest degree contribute to restore their peace of mind, I shall +be amply rewarded for the pain the concealment of my own feelings may +occasion." + +Thus argued this excellent woman: and in the execution of so laudable +a resolution we shall leave her, to follow the fortunes of the hapless +victim of imprudence and evil counsellors. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +NECESSARY DIGRESSION. + +ON board of the ship in which Charlotte and Mademoiselle were embarked, +was an officer of large unincumbered fortune and elevated rank, and whom +I shall call Crayton. + +He was one of those men, who, having travelled in their youth, pretend +to have contracted a peculiar fondness for every thing foreign, and to +hold in contempt the productions of their own country; and this affected +partiality extended even to the women. + +With him therefore the blushing modesty and unaffected simplicity of +Charlotte passed unnoticed; but the forward pertness of La Rue, the +freedom of her conversation, the elegance of her person, mixed with a +certain engaging JE NE SAIS QUOI, perfectly enchanted him. + +The reader no doubt has already developed the character of La Rue: +designing, artful, and selfish, she had accepted the devoirs of Belcour +because she was heartily weary of the retired life she led at the +school, wished to be released from what she deemed a slavery, and to +return to that vortex of folly and dissipation which had once plunged +her into the deepest misery; but her plan she flattered herself was now +better formed: she resolved to put herself under the protection of no +man till she had first secured a settlement; but the clandestine manner +in which she left Madame Du Pont's prevented her putting this plan +in execution, though Belcour solemnly protested he would make her a +handsome settlement the moment they arrived at Portsmouth. This he +afterwards contrived to evade by a pretended hurry of business; La Rue +readily conceiving he never meant to fulfil his promise, determined to +change her battery, and attack the heart of Colonel Crayton. She soon +discovered the partiality he entertained for her nation; and having +imposed on him a feigned tale of distress, representing Belcour as a +villain who had seduced her from her friends under promise of marriage, +and afterwards betrayed her, pretending great remorse for the errors she +had committed, and declaring whatever her affection for Belcour might +have been, it was now entirely extinguished, and she wished for nothing +more than an opportunity to leave a course of life which her soul +abhorred; but she had no friends to apply to, they had all renounced +her, and guilt and misery would undoubtedly be her future portion +through life. + +Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities, though the peculiar +trait in his character, which we have already mentioned, in a great +measure threw a shade over them. He was beloved for his humanity and +benevolence by all who knew him, but he was easy and unsuspicious +himself, and became a dupe to the artifice of others. + +He was, when very young, united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps +it was his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality +he ever retained for the whole nation. He had by her one daughter, who +entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. This +lady was universally beloved and admired, being endowed with all the +virtues of her mother, without the weakness of the father: she was +married to Major Beauchamp, and was at this time in the same fleet with +her father, attending her husband to New-York. + +Crayton was melted by the affected contrition and distress of La Rue: +he would converse with her for hours, read to her, play cards with her, +listen to all her complaints, and promise to protect her to the utmost +of his power. La Rue easily saw his character; her sole aim was to +awaken a passion in his bosom that might turn out to her advantage, +and in this aim she was but too successful, for before the voyage was +finished, the infatuated Colonel gave her from under his hand a promise +of marriage on their arrival at New-York, under forfeiture of five +thousand pounds. + +And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious and +tempestuous passage? naturally delicate, the fatigue and sickness which +she endured rendered her so weak as to be almost entirely confined to +her bed: yet the kindness and attention of Montraville in some measure +contributed to alleviate her sufferings, and the hope of hearing from +her friends soon after her arrival, kept up her spirits, and cheered +many a gloomy hour. + +But during the voyage a great revolution took place not only in the +fortune of La Rue but in the bosom of Belcour: whilst in pursuit of +his amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended little to the interesting, +inobtrusive charms of Charlotte, but when, cloyed by possession, +and disgusted with the art and dissimulation of one, he beheld the +simplicity and gentleness of the other, the contrast became too striking +not to fill him at once with surprise and admiration. He frequently +conversed with Charlotte; he found her sensible, well informed, but +diffident and unassuming. The languor which the fatigue of her body and +perturbation of her mind spread over her delicate features, served only +in his opinion to render her more lovely: he knew that Montraville did +not design to marry her, and he formed a resolution to endeavour to gain +her himself whenever Montraville should leave her. + +Let not the reader imagine Belcour's designs were honourable. Alas! when +once a woman has forgot the respect due to herself, by yielding to the +solicitations of illicit love, they lose all their consequence, even in +the eyes of the man whose art has betrayed them, and for whose sake they +have sacrificed every valuable consideration. + + The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys, + A man may pity--but he must despise. + +Nay, every libertine will think he has a right to insult her with his +licentious passion; and should the unhappy creature shrink from the +insolent overture, he will sneeringly taunt her with pretence of +modesty. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A WEDDING. + +ON the day before their arrival at New-York, after dinner, Crayton arose +from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, thus addressed the +company-- + +"As we are now nearly arrived at our destined port, I think it but my +duty to inform you, my friends, that this lady," (taking her hand,) "has +placed herself under my protection. I have seen and severely felt the +anguish of her heart, and through every shade which cruelty or malice +may throw over her, can discover the most amiable qualities. I thought +it but necessary to mention my esteem for her before our disembarkation, +as it is my fixed resolution, the morning after we land, to give her +an undoubted title to my favour and protection by honourably uniting my +fate to hers. I would wish every gentleman here therefore to remember +that her honour henceforth is mine, and," continued he, looking at +Belcour, "should any man presume to speak in the least disrespectfully +of her, I shall not hesitate to pronounce him a scoundrel." + +Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bowing profoundly low, +wished Mademoiselle much joy in the proposed union; and assuring +the Colonel that he need not be in the least apprehensive of any one +throwing the least odium on the character of his lady, shook him by the +hand with ridiculous gravity, and left the cabin. + +The truth was, he was glad to be rid of La Rue, and so he was but freed +from her, he cared not who fell a victim to her infamous arts. + +The inexperienced Charlotte was astonished at what she heard. She +thought La Rue had, like herself, only been urged by the force of her +attachment to Belcour, to quit her friends, and follow him to the feat +of war: how wonderful then, that she should resolve to marry another +man. It was certainly extremely wrong. It was indelicate. She mentioned +her thoughts to Montraville. He laughed at her simplicity, called her a +little idiot, and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of +the world. "If the world sanctifies such things, 'tis a very bad world I +think," said Charlotte. "Why I always understood they were to have been +married when they arrived at New-York. I am sure Mademoiselle told me +Belcour promised to marry her." + +"Well, and suppose he did?" + +"Why, he should be obliged to keep his word I think." + +"Well, but I suppose he has changed his mind," said Montraville, "and +then you know the case is altered." + +Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment. A full sense of her +own situation rushed upon her mind. She burst into tears, and remained +silent. Montraville too well understood the cause of her tears. He +kissed her cheek, and bidding her not make herself uneasy, unable to +bear the silent but keen remonstrance, hastily left her. + +The next morning by sun-rise they found themselves at anchor before +the city of New-York. A boat was ordered to convey the ladies on shore. +Crayton accompanied them; and they were shewn to a house of public +entertainment. Scarcely were they seated when the door opened, and the +Colonel found himself in the arms of his daughter, who had landed a few +minutes before him. The first transport of meeting subsided, Crayton +introduced his daughter to Mademoiselle La Rue, as an old friend of her +mother's, (for the artful French woman had really made it appear to the +credulous Colonel that she was in the same convent with his first wife, +and, though much younger, had received many tokens of her esteem and +regard.) + +"If, Mademoiselle," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "you were the friend of +my mother, you must be worthy the esteem of all good hearts." +"Mademoiselle will soon honour our family," said Crayton, "by supplying +the place that valuable woman filled: and as you are married, my dear, I +think you will not blame--" + +"Hush, my dear Sir," replied Mrs. Beauchamp: "I know my duty too well to +scrutinize your conduct. Be assured, my dear father, your happiness +is mine. I shall rejoice in it, and sincerely love the person who +contributes to it. But tell me," continued she, turning to Charlotte, +"who is this lovely girl? Is she your sister, Mademoiselle?" + +A blush, deep as the glow of the carnation, suffused the cheeks of +Charlotte. + +"It is a young lady," replied the Colonel, "who came in the same vessel +with us from England.' He then drew his daughter aside, and told her in +a whisper, Charlotte was the mistress of Montraville. + +"What a pity!" said Mrs. Beauchamp softly, (casting a most compassionate +glance at her.) "But surely her mind is not depraved. The goodness of +her heart is depicted in her ingenuous countenance." + +Charlotte caught the word pity. "And am I already fallen so low?" said +she. A sigh escaped her, and a tear was ready to start, but Montraville +appeared, and she checked the rising emotion. Mademoiselle went with the +Colonel and his daughter to another apartment. Charlotte remained with +Montraville and Belcour. The next morning the Colonel performed his +promise, and La Rue became in due form Mrs. Crayton, exulted in her +own good fortune, and dared to look with an eye of contempt on the +unfortunate but far less guilty Charlotte. + + + + + +VOLUME II + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +REFLECTIONS. + +"AND am I indeed fallen so low," said Charlotte, "as to be only pitied? +Will the voice of approbation no more meet my ear? and shall I never +again possess a friend, whose face will wear a smile of joy whenever I +approach? Alas! how thoughtless, how dreadfully imprudent have I been! I +know not which is most painful to endure, the sneer of contempt, or the +glance of compassion, which is depicted in the various countenances +of my own sex: they are both equally humiliating. Ah! my dear parents, +could you now see the child of your affections, the daughter whom you so +dearly loved, a poor solitary being, without society, here wearing out +her heavy hours in deep regret and anguish of heart, no kind friend of +her own sex to whom she can unbosom her griefs, no beloved mother, no +woman of character will appear in my company, and low as your Charlotte +is fallen, she cannot associate with infamy." + +These were the painful reflections which occupied the mind of Charlotte. +Montraville had placed her in a small house a few miles from New-York: +he gave her one female attendant, and supplied her with what money she +wanted; but business and pleasure so entirely occupied his time, that +he had little to devote to the woman, whom he had brought from all her +connections, and robbed of innocence. Sometimes, indeed, he would steal +out at the close of evening, and pass a few hours with her; and then so +much was she attached to him, that all her sorrows were forgotten while +blest with his society: she would enjoy a walk by moonlight, or sit +by him in a little arbour at the bottom of the garden, and play on the +harp, accompanying it with her plaintive, harmonious voice. But often, +very often, did he promise to renew his visits, and, forgetful of his +promise, leave her to mourn her disappointment. What painful hours +of expectation would she pass! She would sit at a window which looked +toward a field he used to cross, counting the minutes, and straining her +eyes to catch the first glimpse of his person, till blinded with tears +of disappointment, she would lean her head on her hands, and give free +vent to her sorrows: then catching at some new hope, she would again +renew her watchful position, till the shades of evening enveloped every +object in a dusky cloud: she would then renew her complaints, and, with +a heart bursting with disappointed love and wounded sensibility, retire +to a bed which remorse had strewed with thorns, and court in vain that +comforter of weary nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) to come and +steep her senses in oblivion. + +Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind of +Charlotte? The wife, whose breast glows with affection to her husband, +and who in return meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive her +anguish. Dreadfully painful is the situation of such a woman, but she +has many comforts of which our poor Charlotte was deprived. The duteous, +faithful wife, though treated with indifference, has one solid pleasure +within her own bosom, she can reflect that she has not deserved +neglect--that she has ever fulfilled the duties of her station with the +strictest exactness; she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted +attention, to recall her wanderer, and be doubly happy in his returning +affection; she knows he cannot leave her to unite himself to another: he +cannot cast her out to poverty and contempt; she looks around her, +and sees the smile of friendly welcome, or the tear of affectionate +consolation, on the face of every person whom she favours with her +esteem; and from all these circumstances she gathers comfort: but the +poor girl by thoughtless passion led astray, who, in parting with +her honour, has forfeited the esteem of the very man to whom she has +sacrificed every thing dear and valuable in life, feels his indifference +in the fruit of her own folly, and laments her want of power to recall +his lost affection; she knows there is no tie but honour, and that, in +a man who has been guilty of seduction, is but very feeble: he may leave +her in a moment to shame and want; he may marry and forsake her for +ever; and should he, she has no redress, no friendly, soothing companion +to pour into her wounded mind the balm of consolation, no benevolent +hand to lead her back to the path of rectitude; she has disgraced her +friends, forfeited the good opinion of the world, and undone herself; +she feels herself a poor solitary being in the midst of surrounding +multitudes; shame bows her to the earth, remorse tears her distracted +mind, and guilt, poverty, and disease close the dreadful scene: she +sinks unnoticed to oblivion. The finger of contempt may point out to +some passing daughter of youthful mirth, the humble bed where lies this +frail sister of mortality; and will she, in the unbounded gaiety of her +heart, exult in her own unblemished fame, and triumph over the silent +ashes of the dead? Oh no! has she a heart of sensibility, she will stop, +and thus address the unhappy victim of folly-- + +"Thou had'st thy faults, but sure thy sufferings have expiated them: +thy errors brought thee to an early grave; but thou wert a +fellow-creature--thou hast been unhappy--then be those errors forgotten." + +Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear +will fall, and consecrate the spot to Charity. + +For ever honoured be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of mercy +shall record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang shall be +immortal. + +My dear Madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. I +mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims +to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many errors we are +ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid in the recesses of +our hearts, which we should blush to have brought into open day (and yet +those faults require the lenity and pity of a benevolent judge, or +awful would be our prospect of futurity) I say, my dear Madam, when we +consider this, we surely may pity the faults of others. + +Believe me, many an unfortunate female, who has once strayed into the +thorny paths of vice, would gladly return to virtue, was any generous +friend to endeavour to raise and re-assure her; but alas! it cannot be, +you say; the world would deride and scoff. Then let me tell you, Madam, +'tis a very unfeeling world, and does not deserve half the blessings +which a bountiful Providence showers upon it. + +Oh, thou benevolent giver of all good! how shall we erring mortals +dare to look up to thy mercy in the great day of retribution, if we now +uncharitably refuse to overlook the errors, or alleviate the miseries, +of our fellow-creatures. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A MISTAKE DISCOVERED. + +JULIA Franklin was the only child of a man of large property, who, at +the age of eighteen, left her independent mistress of an unincumbered +income of seven hundred a year; she was a girl of a lively disposition, +and humane, susceptible heart: she resided in New-York with an uncle, +who loved her too well, and had too high an opinion of her prudence, to +scrutinize her actions so much as would have been necessary with many +young ladies, who were not blest with her discretion: she was, at the +time Montraville arrived at New-York, the life of society, and the +universal toast. Montraville was introduced to her by the following +accident. + +One night when he was upon guard, a dreadful fire broke out near Mr. +Franklin's house, which, in a few hours, reduced that and several others +to ashes; fortunately no lives were lost, and, by the assiduity of the +soldiers, much valuable property was saved from the flames. In the midst +of the confusion an old gentleman came up to Montraville, and, putting +a small box into his hands, cried--"Keep it, my good Sir, till I come +to you again;" and then rushing again into the thickest of the +crowd, Montraville saw him no more. He waited till the fire was quite +extinguished and the mob dispersed; but in vain: the old gentleman did +not appear to claim his property; and Montraville, fearing to make any +enquiry, lest he should meet with impostors who might lay claim, without +any legal right, to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it +up: he naturally imagined, that the person who committed it to his care +knew him, and would, in a day or two, reclaim it; but several weeks +passed on, and no enquiry being made, he began to be uneasy, and +resolved to examine the contents of the box, and if they were, as he +supposed, valuable, to spare no pains to discover, and restore them +to the owner. Upon opening it, he found it contained jewels to a large +amount, about two hundred pounds in money, and a miniature picture set +for a bracelet. On examining the picture, he thought he had somewhere +seen features very like it, but could not recollect where. A few +days after, being at a public assembly, he saw Miss Franklin, and the +likeness was too evident to be mistaken: he enquired among his brother +officers if any of them knew her, and found one who was upon terms of +intimacy in the family: "then introduce me to her immediately," said +he, "for I am certain I can inform her of something which will give her +peculiar pleasure." + +He was immediately introduced, found she was the owner of the jewels, +and was invited to breakfast the next morning in order to their +restoration. This whole evening Montraville was honoured with Julia's +hand; the lively sallies of her wit, the elegance of her manner, +powerfully charmed him: he forgot Charlotte, and indulged himself in +saying every thing that was polite and tender to Julia. But on retiring, +recollection returned. "What am I about?" said he: "though I cannot +marry Charlotte, I cannot be villain enough to forsake her, nor must +I dare to trifle with the heart of Julia Franklin. I will return this +box," said he, "which has been the source of so much uneasiness already, +and in the evening pay a visit to my poor melancholy Charlotte, and +endeavour to forget this fascinating Julia." + +He arose, dressed himself, and taking the picture out, "I will reserve +this from the rest," said he, "and by presenting it to her when she +thinks it is lost, enhance the value of the obligation." He repaired to +Mr. Franklin's, and found Julia in the breakfast parlour alone. + +"How happy am I, Madam," said he, "that being the fortunate instrument +of saving these jewels has been the means of procuring me the +acquaintance of so amiable a lady. There are the jewels and money all +safe." + +"But where is the picture, Sir?" said Julia. + +"Here, Madam. I would not willingly part with it." + +"It is the portrait of my mother," said she, taking it from him: "'tis +all that remains." She pressed it to her lips, and a tear trembled in +her eyes. Montraville glanced his eye on her grey night gown and black +ribbon, and his own feelings prevented a reply. + +Julia Franklin was the very reverse of Charlotte Temple: she was tall, +elegantly shaped, and possessed much of the air and manner of a woman +of fashion; her complexion was a clear brown, enlivened with the glow of +health, her eyes, full, black, and sparkling, darted their intelligent +glances through long silken lashes; her hair was shining brown, and her +features regular and striking; there was an air of innocent gaiety that +played about her countenance, where good humour sat triumphant. + +"I have been mistaken," said Montraville. "I imagined I loved Charlotte: +but alas! I am now too late convinced my attachment to her was merely +the impulse of the moment. I fear I have not only entailed lasting +misery on that poor girl, but also thrown a barrier in the way of my own +happiness, which it will be impossible to surmount. I feel I love Julia +Franklin with ardour and sincerity; yet, when in her presence, I am +sensible of my own inability to offer a heart worthy her acceptance, and +remain silent." Full of these painful thoughts, Montraville walked out +to see Charlotte: she saw him approach, and ran out to meet him: she +banished from her countenance the air of discontent which ever appeared +when he was absent, and met him with a smile of joy. + +"I thought you had forgot me, Montraville," said she, "and was very +unhappy." + +"I shall never forget you, Charlotte," he replied, pressing her hand. + +The uncommon gravity of his countenance, and the brevity of his reply, +alarmed her. + +"You are not well," said she; "your hand is hot; your eyes are heavy; +you are very ill." + +"I am a villain," said he mentally, as he turned from her to hide his +emotions. + +"But come," continued she tenderly, "you shall go to bed, and I will sit +by, and watch you; you will be better when you have slept." + +Montraville was glad to retire, and by pretending sleep, hide the +agitation of his mind from her penetrating eye. Charlotte watched by him +till a late hour, and then, lying softly down by his side, sunk into a +profound sleep, from whence she awoke not till late the next morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth + her hand to raise a fallen sister. + +CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. + +WHEN Charlotte awoke, she missed Montraville; but thinking he might have +arisen early to enjoy the beauties of the morning, she was preparing +to follow him, when casting her eye on the table, she saw a note, and +opening it hastily, found these words-- + +"My dear Charlotte must not be surprised, if she does not see me again +for some time: unavoidable business will prevent me that pleasure: be +assured I am quite well this morning; and what your fond imagination +magnified into illness, was nothing more than fatigue, which a few hours +rest has entirely removed. Make yourself happy, and be certain of the +unalterable friendship of + +"MONTRAVILLE." + + +"FRIENDSHIP!" said Charlotte emphatically, as she finished the note, "is +it come to this at last? Alas! poor, forsaken Charlotte, thy doom is now +but too apparent. Montraville is no longer interested in thy happiness; +and shame, remorse, and disappointed love will henceforth be thy only +attendants." + +Though these were the ideas that involuntarily rushed upon the mind +of Charlotte as she perused the fatal note, yet after a few hours had +elapsed, the syren Hope again took possession of her bosom, and she +flattered herself she could, on a second perusal, discover an air of +tenderness in the few lines he had left, which at first had escaped her +notice. + +"He certainly cannot be so base as to leave me," said she, "and in +styling himself my friend does he not promise to protect me. I will not +torment myself with these causeless fears; I will place a confidence in +his honour; and sure he will not be so unjust as to abuse it." + +Just as she had by this manner of reasoning brought her mind to some +tolerable degree of composure, she was surprised by a visit from +Belcour. The dejection visible in Charlotte's countenance, her swoln +eyes and neglected attire, at once told him she was unhappy: he made no +doubt but Montraville had, by his coldness, alarmed her suspicions, +and was resolved, if possible, to rouse her to jealousy, urge her to +reproach him, and by that means occasion a breach between them. "If I +can once convince her that she has a rival," said he, "she will listen +to my passion if it is only to revenge his slights." Belcour knew but +little of the female heart; and what he did know was only of those of +loose and dissolute lives. He had no idea that a woman might fall a +victim to imprudence, and yet retain so strong a sense of honour, as to +reject with horror and contempt every solicitation to a second fault. +He never imagined that a gentle, generous female heart, once tenderly +attached, when treated with unkindness might break, but would never +harbour a thought of revenge. + +His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the +heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her +life. + +We will now return for a moment to Colonel Crayton. He had been three +months married, and in that little time had discovered that the +conduct of his lady was not so prudent as it ought to have been: but +remonstrance was vain; her temper was violent; and to the Colonel's +great misfortune he had conceived a sincere affection for her: she saw +her own power, and, with the art of a Circe, made every action appear +to him in what light she pleased: his acquaintance laughed at his +blindness, his friends pitied his infatuation, his amiable daughter, +Mrs. Beauchamp, in secret deplored the loss of her father's affection, +and grieved that he should be so entirely swayed by an artful, and, she +much feared, infamous woman. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was mild and engaging; she loved not the hurry and bustle +of a city, and had prevailed on her husband to take a house a few +miles from New-York. Chance led her into the same neighbourhood with +Charlotte; their houses stood within a short space of each other, and +their gardens joined: she had not been long in her new habitation before +the figure of Charlotte struck her; she recollected her interesting +features; she saw the melancholy so conspicuous in her countenance, +and her heart bled at the reflection, that perhaps deprived of honour, +friends, all that was valuable in life, she was doomed to linger out a +wretched existence in a strange land, and sink broken-hearted into +an untimely grave. "Would to heaven I could snatch her from so hard +a fate," said she; "but the merciless world has barred the doors of +compassion against a poor weak girl, who, perhaps, had she one kind +friend to raise and reassure her, would gladly return to peace and +virtue; nay, even the woman who dares to pity, and endeavour to recall +a wandering sister, incurs the sneer of contempt and ridicule, for an +action in which even angels are said to rejoice." + +The longer Mrs. Beauchamp was a witness to the solitary life Charlotte +led, the more she wished to speak to her, and often as she saw her +cheeks wet with the tears of anguish, she would say--"Dear sufferer, how +gladly would I pour into your heart the balm of consolation, were it not +for the fear of derision." + +But an accident soon happened which made her resolve to brave even the +scoffs of the world, rather than not enjoy the heavenly satisfaction of +comforting a desponding fellow-creature. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was an early riser. She was one morning walking in the +garden, leaning on her husband's arm, when the sound of a harp attracted +their notice: they listened attentively, and heard a soft melodious +voice distinctly sing the following stanzas: + + Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, + Just rising from the sea, + To cheer all nature with thy light, + What are thy beams to me? + In vain thy glories bid me rise, + To hail the new-born day, + Alas! my morning sacrifice + Is still to weep and pray. + For what are nature's charms combin'd, + To one, whose weary breast + Can neither peace nor comfort find, + Nor friend whereon to rest? + Oh! never! never! whilst I live + Can my heart's anguish cease: + Come, friendly death, thy mandate give, + And let me be at peace. + +"'Tis poor Charlotte!" said Mrs. Beauchamp, the pellucid drop of +humanity stealing down her cheek. + +Captain Beauchamp was alarmed at her emotion. "What Charlotte?" said he; +"do you know her?" + +In the accent of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband +Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had formed of +being serviceable to her. "I fear," continued she, "the poor girl has +been basely betrayed; and if I thought you would not blame me, I would +pay her a visit, offer her my friendship, and endeavour to restore +to her heart that peace she seems to have lost, and so pathetically +laments. Who knows, my dear," laying her hand affectionately on his arm, +"who knows but she has left some kind, affectionate parents to lament +her errors, and would she return, they might with rapture receive the +poor penitent, and wash away her faults in tears of joy. Oh! what a +glorious reflexion would it be for me could I be the happy instrument of +restoring her. Her heart may not be depraved, Beauchamp." + +"Exalted woman!" cried Beauchamp, embracing her, "how dost thou rise +every moment in my esteem. Follow the impulse of thy generous heart, +my Emily. Let prudes and fools censure if they dare, and blame a +sensibility they never felt; I will exultingly tell them that the heart +that is truly virtuous is ever inclined to pity and forgive the errors +of its fellow-creatures." + +A beam of exulting joy played round the animated countenance of Mrs. +Beauchamp, at these encomiums bestowed on her by a beloved husband, the +most delightful sensations pervaded her heart, and, having breakfasted, +she prepared to visit Charlotte. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see, + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. POPE. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp was dressed, she began to feel embarrassed at the +thought of beginning an acquaintance with Charlotte, and was distressed +how to make the first visit. "I cannot go without some introduction," +said she, "it will look so like impertinent curiosity." At length +recollecting herself, she stepped into the garden, and gathering a few +fine cucumbers, took them in her hand by way of apology for her visit. + +A glow of conscious shame vermillioned Charlotte's face as Mrs. +Beauchamp entered. + +"You will pardon me, Madam," said she, "for not having before paid my +respects to so amiable a neighbour; but we English people always keep up +that reserve which is the characteristic of our nation wherever we go. I +have taken the liberty to bring you a few cucumbers, for I observed you +had none in your garden." + +Charlotte, though naturally polite and well-bred, was so confused she +could hardly speak. Her kind visitor endeavoured to relieve her by +not noticing her embarrassment. "I am come, Madam," continued she, "to +request you will spend the day with me. I shall be alone; and, as we are +both strangers in this country, we may hereafter be extremely happy in +each other's friendship." + +"Your friendship, Madam," said Charlotte blushing, "is an honour to +all who are favoured with it. Little as I have seen of this part of the +world, I am no stranger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness of heart and known +humanity: but my friendship--" She paused, glanced her eye upon her own +visible situation, and, spite of her endeavours to suppress them, burst +into tears. + +Mrs. Beauchamp guessed the source from whence those tears flowed. +"You seem unhappy, Madam," said she: "shall I be thought worthy your +confidence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, and +rest on my assurances to exert my utmost power to serve you." Charlotte +returned a look of gratitude, but could not speak, and Mrs. Beauchamp +continued--"My heart was interested in your behalf the first moment I +saw you, and I only lament I had not made earlier overtures towards an +acquaintance; but I flatter myself you will henceforth consider me as +your friend." + +"Oh Madam!" cried Charlotte, "I have forfeited the good opinion of all +my friends; I have forsaken them, and undone myself." + +"Come, come, my dear," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "you must not indulge +these gloomy thoughts: you are not I hope so miserable as you imagine +yourself: endeavour to be composed, and let me be favoured with your +company at dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your +friend, and repose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you it +shall not be abused." She then arose, and bade her good morning. + +At the dining hour Charlotte repaired to Mrs. Beauchamp's, and during +dinner assumed as composed an aspect as possible; but when the cloth +was removed, she summoned all her resolution and determined to make Mrs. +Beauchamp acquainted with every circumstance preceding her unfortunate +elopement, and the earnest desire she had to quit a way of life so +repugnant to her feelings. + +With the benignant aspect of an angel of mercy did Mrs. Beauchamp listen +to the artless tale: she was shocked to the soul to find how large a +share La Rue had in the seduction of this amiable girl, and a tear fell, +when she reflected so vile a woman was now the wife of her father. +When Charlotte had finished, she gave her a little time to collect her +scattered spirits, and then asked her if she had never written to her +friends. + +"Oh yes, Madam," said she, "frequently: but I have broke their hearts: +they are either dead or have cast me off for ever, for I have never +received a single line from them." + +"I rather suspect," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "they have never had your +letters: but suppose you were to hear from them, and they were willing +to receive you, would you then leave this cruel Montraville, and return +to them?" + +"Would I!" said Charlotte, clasping her hands; "would not the poor +sailor, tost on a tempestuous ocean, threatened every moment with +death, gladly return to the shore he had left to trust to its deceitful +calmness? Oh, my dear Madam, I would return, though to do it I were +obliged to walk barefoot over a burning desert, and beg a scanty +pittance of each traveller to support my existence. I would endure it +all cheerfully, could I but once more see my dear, blessed mother, hear +her pronounce my pardon, and bless me before I died; but alas! I shall +never see her more; she has blotted the ungrateful Charlotte from her +remembrance, and I shall sink to the grave loaded with her's and my +father's curse." + +Mrs. Beauchamp endeavoured to sooth her. "You shall write to them +again," said she, "and I will see that the letter is sent by the first +packet that sails for England; in the mean time keep up your spirits, +and hope every thing, by daring to deserve it." + +She then turned the conversation, and Charlotte having taken a cup of +tea, wished her benevolent friend a good evening. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SORROWS OF THE HEART. + +WHEN Charlotte got home she endeavoured to collect her thoughts, and +took up a pen in order to address those dear parents, whom, spite of her +errors, she still loved with the utmost tenderness, but vain was every +effort to write with the least coherence; her tears fell so fast +they almost blinded her; and as she proceeded to describe her unhappy +situation, she became so agitated that she was obliged to give over the +attempt and retire to bed, where, overcome with the fatigue her mind had +undergone, she fell into a slumber which greatly refreshed her, and she +arose in the morning with spirits more adequate to the painful task she +had to perform, and, after several attempts, at length concluded the +following letter to her mother-- + +TO MRS. TEMPLE. NEW-YORK. + +"Will my once kind, my ever beloved mother, deign to receive a letter +from her guilty, but repentant child? or has she, justly incensed at my +ingratitude, driven the unhappy Charlotte from her remembrance? Alas! +thou much injured mother! shouldst thou even disown me, I dare not +complain, because I know I have deserved it: but yet, believe me, guilty +as I am, and cruelly as I have disappointed the hopes of the fondest +parents, that ever girl had, even in the moment when, forgetful of my +duty, I fled from you and happiness, even then I loved you most, and my +heart bled at the thought of what you would suffer. Oh! never, never! +whilst I have existence, will the agony of that moment be erased from my +memory. It seemed like the separation of soul and body. What can I plead +in excuse for my conduct? alas! nothing! That I loved my seducer is +but too true! yet powerful as that passion is when operating in a +young heart glowing with sensibility, it never would have conquered my +affection to you, my beloved parents, had I not been encouraged, nay, +urged to take the fatally imprudent step, by one of my own sex, who, +under the mask of friendship, drew me on to ruin. Yet think not your +Charlotte was so lost as to voluntarily rush into a life of infamy; no, +my dear mother, deceived by the specious appearance of my betrayer, and +every suspicion lulled asleep by the most solemn promises of marriage, +I thought not those promises would so easily be forgotten. I never once +reflected that the man who could stoop to seduction, would not hesitate +to forsake the wretched object of his passion, whenever his capricious +heart grew weary of her tenderness. When we arrived at this place, I +vainly expected him to fulfil his engagements, but was at last fatally +convinced he had never intended to make me his wife, or if he had once +thought of it, his mind was now altered. I scorned to claim from his +humanity what I could not obtain from his love: I was conscious of +having forfeited the only gem that could render me respectable in the +eye of the world. I locked my sorrows in my own bosom, and bore my +injuries in silence. But how shall I proceed? This man, this cruel +Montraville, for whom I sacrificed honour, happiness, and the love of my +friends, no longer looks on me with affection, but scorns the credulous +girl whom his art has made miserable. Could you see me, my dear parents, +without society, without friends, stung with remorse, and (I feel the +burning blush of shame die my cheeks while I write it) tortured with the +pangs of disappointed love; cut to the soul by the indifference of him, +who, having deprived me of every other comfort, no longer thinks it +worth his while to sooth the heart where he has planted the thorn of +never-ceasing regret. My daily employment is to think of you and weep, +to pray for your happiness and deplore my own folly: my nights are +scarce more happy, for if by chance I close my weary eyes, and hope +some small forgetfulness of sorrow, some little time to pass in sweet +oblivion, fancy, still waking, wafts me home to you: I see your beloved +forms, I kneel and hear the blessed words of peace and pardon. Extatic +joy pervades my soul; I reach my arms to catch your dear embraces; the +motion chases the illusive dream; I wake to real misery. At other times +I see my father angry and frowning, point to horrid caves, where, on the +cold damp ground, in the agonies of death, I see my dear mother and my +revered grand-father. I strive to raise you; you push me from you, and +shrieking cry--'Charlotte, thou hast murdered me!' Horror and despair +tear every tortured nerve; I start, and leave my restless bed, weary and +unrefreshed. + +"Shocking as these reflexions are, I have yet one more dreadful than the +rest. Mother, my dear mother! do not let me quite break your heart when +I tell you, in a few months I shall bring into the world an innocent +witness of my guilt. Oh my bleeding heart, I shall bring a poor little +helpless creature, heir to infamy and shame. + +"This alone has urged me once more to address you, to interest you in +behalf of this poor unborn, and beg you to extend your protection to the +child of your lost Charlotte; for my own part I have wrote so often, so +frequently have pleaded for forgiveness, and entreated to be received +once more beneath the paternal roof, that having received no answer, not +even one line, I much fear you have cast me from you for ever. + +"But sure you cannot refuse to protect my innocent infant: it partakes +not of its mother's guilt. Oh my father, oh beloved mother, now do I +feel the anguish I inflicted on your hearts recoiling with double force +upon my own. + +"If my child should be a girl (which heaven forbid) tell her the unhappy +fate of her mother, and teach her to avoid my errors; if a boy, teach +him to lament my miseries, but tell him not who inflicted them, lest in +wishing to revenge his mother's injuries, he should wound the peace of +his father. + +"And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardians of my infancy, +farewell. I feel I never more must hope to see you; the anguish of my +heart strikes at the strings of life, and in a short time I shall be +at rest. Oh could I but receive your blessing and forgiveness before I +died, it would smooth my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed +foretaste of a happy eternity. I beseech you, curse me not, my adored +parents, but let a tear of pity and pardon fall to the memory of your +lost + +"CHARLOTTE." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +A MAN MAY SMILE, AND SMILE, AND BE A VILLAIN. + +WHILE Charlotte was enjoying some small degree of comfort in the +consoling friendship of Mrs. Beauchamp, Montraville was advancing +rapidly in his affection towards Miss Franklin. Julia was an amiable +girl; she saw only the fair side of his character; she possessed an +independent fortune, and resolved to be happy with the man of her heart, +though his rank and fortune were by no means so exalted as she had a +right to expect; she saw the passion which Montraville struggled to +conceal; she wondered at his timidity, but imagined the distance fortune +had placed between them occasioned his backwardness, and made every +advance which strict prudence and a becoming modesty would permit. +Montraville saw with pleasure he was not indifferent to her, but a +spark of honour which animated his bosom would not suffer him to take +advantage of her partiality. He was well acquainted with Charlotte's +situation, and he thought there would be a double cruelty in forsaking +her at such a time; and to marry Miss Franklin, while honour, humanity, +every sacred law, obliged him still to protect and support Charlotte, +was a baseness which his soul shuddered at. + +He communicated his uneasiness to Belcour: it was the very thing this +pretended friend had wished. "And do you really," said he, laughing, +"hesitate at marrying the lovely Julia, and becoming master of her +fortune, because a little foolish, fond girl chose to leave her friends, +and run away with you to America. Dear Montraville, act more like a +man of sense; this whining, pining Charlotte, who occasions you so much +uneasiness, would have eloped with somebody else if she had not with +you." + +"Would to heaven," said Montraville, "I had never seen her; my regard +for her was but the momentary passion of desire, but I feel I shall love +and revere Julia Franklin as long as I live; yet to leave poor Charlotte +in her present situation would be cruel beyond description." + +"Oh my good sentimental friend," said Belcour, "do you imagine no body +has a right to provide for the brat but yourself." + +Montraville started. "Sure," said he, "you cannot mean to insinuate that +Charlotte is false." + +"I don't insinuate it," said Belcour, "I know it." + +Montraville turned pale as ashes. "Then there is no faith in woman," +said he. + +"While I thought you attached to her," said Belcour with an air of +indifference, "I never wished to make you uneasy by mentioning her +perfidy, but as I know you love and are beloved by Miss Franklin, I was +determined not to let these foolish scruples of honour step between you +and happiness, or your tenderness for the peace of a perfidious girl +prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honour." + +"Good heavens!" said Montraville, "what poignant reflections does a man +endure who sees a lovely woman plunged in infamy, and is conscious he +was her first seducer; but are you certain of what you say, Belcour?" + +"So far," replied he, "that I myself have received advances from her +which I would not take advantage of out of regard to you: but hang it, +think no more about her. I dined at Franklin's to-day, and Julia bid +me seek and bring you to tea: so come along, my lad, make good use of +opportunity, and seize the gifts of fortune while they are within your +reach." Montraville was too much agitated to pass a happy evening even +in the company of Julia Franklin: he determined to visit Charlotte early +the next morning, tax her with her falsehood, and take an everlasting +leave of her; but when the morning came, he was commanded on duty, and +for six weeks was prevented from putting his design in execution. +At length he found an hour to spare, and walked out to spend it with +Charlotte: it was near four o'clock in the afternoon when he arrived at +her cottage; she was not in the parlour, and without calling the servant +he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in her bed room. He opened the +door, and the first object that met his eyes was Charlotte asleep on the +bed, and Belcour by her side. + +"Death and distraction," said he, stamping, "this is too much. Rise, +villain, and defend yourself." Belcour sprang from the bed. The noise +awoke Charlotte; terrified at the furious appearance of Montraville, and +seeing Belcour with him in the chamber, she caught hold of his arm as he +stood by the bed-side, and eagerly asked what was the matter. + +"Treacherous, infamous girl," said he, "can you ask? How came he here?" +pointing to Belcour. + +"As heaven is my witness," replied she weeping, "I do not know. I have +not seen him for these three weeks." + +"Then you confess he sometimes visits you?" + +"He came sometimes by your desire." + +"'Tis false; I never desired him to come, and you know I did not: but +mark me, Charlotte, from this instant our connexion is at an end. Let +Belcour, or any other of your favoured lovers, take you and provide for +you; I have done with you for ever." + +He was then going to leave her; but starting wildly from the bed, she +threw herself on her knees before him, protesting her innocence and +entreating him not to leave her. "Oh Montraville," said she, "kill me, +for pity's sake kill me, but do not doubt my fidelity. Do not leave me +in this horrid situation; for the sake of your unborn child, oh! spurn +not the wretched mother from you." + +"Charlotte," said he, with a firm voice, "I shall take care that neither +you nor your child want any thing in the approaching painful hour; but +we meet no more." He then endeavoured to raise her from the ground; +but in vain; she clung about his knees, entreating him to believe her +innocent, and conjuring Belcour to clear up the dreadful mystery. + +Belcour cast on Montraville a smile of contempt: it irritated him almost +to madness; he broke from the feeble arms of the distressed girl; she +shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor. + +Montraville instantly left the house and returned hastily to the city. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +MYSTERY DEVELOPED. + +UNFORTUNATELY for Charlotte, about three weeks before this unhappy +rencontre, Captain Beauchamp, being ordered to Rhode-Island, his lady +had accompanied him, so that Charlotte was deprived of her friendly +advice and consoling society. The afternoon on which Montraville had +visited her she had found herself languid and fatigued, and after making +a very slight dinner had lain down to endeavour to recruit her exhausted +spirits, and, contrary to her expectations, had fallen asleep. She +had not long been lain down, when Belcour arrived, for he took every +opportunity of visiting her, and striving to awaken her resentment +against Montraville. He enquired of the servant where her mistress was, +and being told she was asleep, took up a book to amuse himself: having +sat a few minutes, he by chance cast his eyes towards the road, and saw +Montraville approaching; he instantly conceived the diabolical scheme +of ruining the unhappy Charlotte in his opinion for ever; he therefore +stole softly up stairs, and laying himself by her side with the greatest +precaution, for fear she should awake, was in that situation discovered +by his credulous friend. + +When Montraville spurned the weeping Charlotte from him, and left her +almost distracted with terror and despair, Belcour raised her from +the floor, and leading her down stairs, assumed the part of a tender, +consoling friend; she listened to the arguments he advanced with +apparent composure; but this was only the calm of a moment: the +remembrance of Montraville's recent cruelty again rushed upon her mind: +she pushed him from her with some violence, and crying--"Leave me, Sir, +I beseech you leave me, for much I fear you have been the cause of my +fidelity being suspected; go, leave me to the accumulated miseries my +own imprudence has brought upon me." + +She then left him with precipitation, and retiring to her own apartment, +threw herself on the bed, and gave vent to an agony of grief which it is +impossible to describe. + +It now occurred to Belcour that she might possibly write to Montraville, +and endeavour to convince him of her innocence: he was well aware of her +pathetic remonstrances, and, sensible of the tenderness of Montraville's +heart, resolved to prevent any letters ever reaching him: he therefore +called the servant, and, by the powerful persuasion of a bribe, +prevailed with her to promise whatever letters her mistress might write +should be sent to him. He then left a polite, tender note for Charlotte, +and returned to New-York. His first business was to seek Montraville, +and endeavour to convince him that what had happened would ultimately +tend to his happiness: he found him in his apartment, solitary, pensive, +and wrapped in disagreeable reflexions. + +"Why how now, whining, pining lover?" said he, clapping him on the +shoulder. Montraville started; a momentary flush of resentment crossed +his cheek, but instantly gave place to a death-like paleness, occasioned +by painful remembrance remembrance awakened by that monitor, whom, +though we may in vain endeavour, we can never entirely silence. + +"Belcour," said he, "you have injured me in a tender point." "Prithee, +Jack," replied Belcour, "do not make a serious matter of it: how could I +refuse the girl's advances? and thank heaven she is not your wife." + +"True," said Montraville; "but she was innocent when I first knew her. +It was I seduced her, Belcour. Had it not been for me, she had still +been virtuous and happy in the affection and protection of her family." + +"Pshaw," replied Belcour, laughing, "if you had not taken advantage of +her easy nature, some other would, and where is the difference, pray?" + +"I wish I had never seen her," cried he passionately, and starting from +his seat. "Oh that cursed French woman," added he with vehemence, "had +it not been for her, I might have been happy--" He paused. + +"With Julia Franklin," said Belcour. The name, like a sudden spark +of electric fire, seemed for a moment to suspend his faculties--for a +moment he was transfixed; but recovering, he caught Belcour's hand, and +cried--"Stop! stop! I beseech you, name not the lovely Julia and +the wretched Montraville in the same breath. I am a seducer, a mean, +ungenerous seducer of unsuspecting innocence. I dare not hope that +purity like her's would stoop to unite itself with black, premeditated +guilt: yet by heavens I swear, Belcour, I thought I loved the lost, +abandoned Charlotte till I saw Julia--I thought I never could forsake +her; but the heart is deceitful, and I now can plainly discriminate +between the impulse of a youthful passion, and the pure flame of +disinterested affection." + +At that instant Julia Franklin passed the window, leaning on her uncle's +arm. She curtseyed as she passed, and, with the bewitching smile of +modest cheerfulness, cried--"Do you bury yourselves in the house this +fine evening, gents?" There was something in the voice! the manner! the +look! that was altogether irresistible. "Perhaps she wishes my company," +said Montraville mentally, as he snatched up his hat: "if I thought she +loved me, I would confess my errors, and trust to her generosity to pity +and pardon me." He soon overtook her, and offering her his arm, they +sauntered to pleasant but unfrequented walks. Belcour drew Mr. Franklin +on one side and entered into a political discourse: they walked faster +than the young people, and Belcour by some means contrived entirely to +lose sight of them. It was a fine evening in the beginning of autumn; +the last remains of day-light faintly streaked the western sky, while +the moon, with pale and virgin lustre in the room of gorgeous gold and +purple, ornamented the canopy of heaven with silver, fleecy clouds, +which now and then half hid her lovely face, and, by partly concealing, +heightened every beauty; the zephyrs whispered softly through the trees, +which now began to shed their leafy honours; a solemn silence reigned: +and to a happy mind an evening such as this would give serenity, and +calm, unruffled pleasure; but to Montraville, while it soothed +the turbulence of his passions, it brought increase of melancholy +reflections. Julia was leaning on his arm: he took her hand in his, and +pressing it tenderly, sighed deeply, but continued silent. Julia was +embarrassed; she wished to break a silence so unaccountable, but was +unable; she loved Montraville, she saw he was unhappy, and wished to +know the cause of his uneasiness, but that innate modesty, which nature +has implanted in the female breast, prevented her enquiring. "I am bad +company, Miss Franklin," said he, at last recollecting himself; "but +I have met with something to-day that has greatly distressed me, and I +cannot shake off the disagreeable impression it has made on my mind." + +"I am sorry," she replied, "that you have any cause of inquietude. I am +sure if you were as happy as you deserve, and as all your friends wish +you--" She hesitated. "And might I," replied he with some animation, +"presume to rank the amiable Julia in that number?" + +"Certainly," said she, "the service you have rendered me, the knowledge +of your worth, all combine to make me esteem you." + +"Esteem, my lovely Julia," said he passionately, "is but a poor cold +word. I would if I dared, if I thought I merited your attention--but +no, I must not--honour forbids. I am beneath your notice, Julia, I am +miserable and cannot hope to be otherwise." "Alas!" said Julia, "I pity +you." + +"Oh thou condescending charmer," said he, "how that sweet word cheers my +sad heart. Indeed if you knew all, you would pity; but at the same time +I fear you would despise me." + +Just then they were again joined by Mr. Franklin and Belcour. It had +interrupted an interesting discourse. They found it impossible to +converse on indifferent subjects, and proceeded home in silence. At +Mr. Franklin's door Montraville again pressed Julia's hand, and faintly +articulating "good night," retired to his lodgings dispirited and +wretched, from a consciousness that he deserved not the affection, with +which he plainly saw he was honoured. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +RECEPTION OF A LETTER. + +"AND where now is our poor Charlotte?" said Mr. Temple one evening, as +the cold blasts of autumn whistled rudely over the heath, and the yellow +appearance of the distant wood, spoke the near approach of winter. In +vain the cheerful fire blazed on the hearth, in vain was he surrounded +by all the comforts of life; the parent was still alive in his heart, +and when he thought that perhaps his once darling child was ere this +exposed to all the miseries of want in a distant land, without a friend +to sooth and comfort her, without the benignant look of compassion to +cheer, or the angelic voice of pity to pour the balm of consolation on +her wounded heart; when he thought of this, his whole soul dissolved in +tenderness; and while he wiped the tear of anguish from the eye of his +patient, uncomplaining Lucy, he struggled to suppress the sympathizing +drop that started in his own. + +"Oh, my poor girl," said Mrs. Temple, "how must she be altered, else +surely she would have relieved our agonizing minds by one line to +say she lived--to say she had not quite forgot the parents who almost +idolized her." + +"Gracious heaven," said Mr. Temple, starting from his seat, "I, who would +wish to be a father, to experience the agonizing pangs inflicted on a +parent's heart by the ingratitude of a child?" Mrs. Temple wept: her +father took her hand; he would have said, "be comforted my child," +but the words died on his tongue. The sad silence that ensued was +interrupted by a loud rap at the door. In a moment a servant entered +with a letter in his hand. + +Mrs. Temple took it from him: she cast her eyes upon the superscription; +she knew the writing. "'Tis Charlotte," said she, eagerly breaking +the seal, "she has not quite forgot us." But before she had half gone +through the contents, a sudden sickness seized her; she grew cold and +giddy, and puffing it into her husband's hand, she cried--"Read it: I +cannot." Mr. Temple attempted to read it aloud, but frequently paused +to give vent to his tears. "My poor deluded child," said he, when he had +finished. + +"Oh, shall we not forgive the dear penitent?" said Mrs. Temple. "We +must, we will, my love; she is willing to return, and 'tis our duty to +receive her." + +"Father of mercy," said Mr. Eldridge, raising his clasped hands, "let +me but live once more to see the dear wanderer restored to her afflicted +parents, and take me from this world of sorrow whenever it seemeth best +to thy wisdom." + +"Yes, we will receive her," said Mr. Temple; "we will endeavour to heal +her wounded spirit, and speak peace and comfort to her agitated soul. I +will write to her to return immediately.' + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Temple, "I would if possible fly to her, support and +cheer the dear sufferer in the approaching hour of distress, and tell +her how nearly penitence is allied to virtue. Cannot we go and conduct +her home, my love?" continued she, laying her hand on his arm. "My +father will surely forgive our absence if we go to bring home his +darling." + +"You cannot go, my Lucy," said Mr. Temple: "the delicacy of your frame +would but poorly sustain the fatigue of a long voyage; but I will go and +bring the gentle penitent to your arms: we may still see many years of +happiness." + +The struggle in the bosom of Mrs. Temple between maternal and conjugal +tenderness was long and painful. At length the former triumphed, and she +consented that her husband should set forward to New-York by the first +opportunity: she wrote to her Charlotte in the tenderest, most consoling +manner, and looked forward to the happy hour, when she should again +embrace her, with the most animated hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +WHAT MIGHT BE EXPECTED. + +IN the mean time the passion Montraville had conceived for Julia +Franklin daily encreased, and he saw evidently how much he was beloved +by that amiable girl: he was likewise strongly prepossessed with an idea +of Charlotte's perfidy. What wonder then if he gave himself up to the +delightful sensation which pervaded his bosom; and finding no obstacle +arise to oppose his happiness, he solicited and obtained the hand of +Julia. A few days before his marriage he thus addressed Belcour: + +"Though Charlotte, by her abandoned conduct, has thrown herself from my +protection, I still hold myself bound to support her till relieved +from her present condition, and also to provide for the child. I do not +intend to see her again, but I will place a sum of money in your hands, +which will amply supply her with every convenience; but should she +require more, let her have it, and I will see it repaid. I wish I could +prevail on the poor deluded girl to return to her friends: she was an +only child, and I make no doubt but that they would joyfully receive +her; it would shock me greatly to see her henceforth leading a life of +infamy, as I should always accuse myself of being the primary cause of +all her errors. If she should chuse to remain under your protection, be +kind to her, Belcour, I conjure you. Let not satiety prompt you to treat +her in such a manner, as may drive her to actions which necessity might +urge her to, while her better reason disapproved them: she shall never +want a friend while I live, but I never more desire to behold her; her +presence would be always painful to me, and a glance from her eye would +call the blush of conscious guilt into my cheek. + +"I will write a letter to her, which you may deliver when I am gone, as +I shall go to St. Eustatia the day after my union with Julia, who will +accompany me." + +Belcour promised to fulfil the request of his friend, though nothing +was farther from his intentions, than the least design of delivering the +letter, or making Charlotte acquainted with the provision Montraville +had made for her; he was bent on the complete ruin of the unhappy girl, +and supposed, by reducing her to an entire dependance on him, to bring +her by degrees to consent to gratify his ungenerous passion. + +The evening before the day appointed for the nuptials of Montraville and +Julia, the former refired early to his apartment; and ruminating on the +past scenes of his life, suffered the keenest remorse in the remembrance +of Charlotte's seduction. "Poor girl," said he, "I will at least write +and bid her adieu; I will too endeavour to awaken that love of virtue in +her bosom which her unfortunate attachment to me has extinguished." He +took up the pen and began to write, but words were denied him. How could +he address the woman whom he had seduced, and whom, though he thought +unworthy his tenderness, he was about to bid adieu for ever? How should +he tell her that he was going to abjure her, to enter into the most +indissoluble ties with another, and that he could not even own the +infant which she bore as his child? Several letters were begun and +destroyed: at length he completed the following: + +TO CHARLOTTE. + +"Though I have taken up my pen to address you, my poor injured girl, I +feel I am inadequate to the task; yet, however painful the endeavour, I +could not resolve upon leaving you for ever without one kind line to bid +you adieu, to tell you how my heart bleeds at the remembrance of what +you was, before you saw the hated Montraville. Even now imagination +paints the scene, when, torn by contending passions, when, struggling +between love and duty, you fainted in my arms, and I lifted you into +the chaise: I see the agony of your mind, when, recovering, you found +yourself on the road to Portsmouth: but how, my gentle girl, how could +you, when so justly impressed with the value of virtue, how could you, +when loving as I thought you loved me, yield to the solicitations of +Belcour? + +"Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, villain that I am, who +first taught you the allurements of guilty pleasure; it was I who +dragged you from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy; +and can I, dare I tell you, it was not love prompted to the horrid deed? +No, thou dear, fallen angel, believe your repentant Montraville, when +he tells you the man who truly loves will never betray the object of his +affection. Adieu, Charlotte: could you still find charms in a life of +unoffend-ing innocence, return to your parents; you shall never want the +means of support both for yourself and child. Oh! gracious heaven! +may that child be entirely free from the vices of its father and the +weakness of its mother. + +"To-morrow--but no, I cannot tell you what to-morrow will produce; +Belcour will inform you: he also has cash for you, which I beg you will +ask for whenever you may want it. Once more adieu: believe me could I +hear you was returned to your friends, and enjoying that tranquillity of +which I have robbed you, I should be as completely happy as even you, +in your fondest hours, could wish me, but till then a gloom will obscure +the brightest prospects of MONTRAVILLE." + +After he had sealed this letter he threw himself on the bed, and enjoyed +a few hours repose. Early in the morning Belcour tapped at his door: he +arose hastily, and prepared to meet his Julia at the altar. + +"This is the letter to Charlotte," said he, giving it to Belcour: "take +it to her when we are gone to Eustatia; and I conjure you, my dear +friend, not to use any sophistical arguments to prevent her return to +virtue; but should she incline that way, encourage her in the thought, +and assist her to put her design in execution." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, + Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + +CHARLOTTE had now been left almost three months a prey to her own +melancholy reflexions--sad companions indeed; nor did any one break in +upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called to enquire after +her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavoured to bring Montraville +to hear reason; and once, but only once, was her mind cheered by the +receipt of an affectionate letter from Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had she +wrote to her perfidious seducer, and with the most persuasive eloquence +endeavoured to convince him of her innocence; but these letters were +never suffered to reach the hands of Montraville, or they must, though +on the very eve of marriage, have prevented his deserting the wretched +girl. Real anguish of heart had in a great measure faded her charms, her +cheeks were pale from want of rest, and her eyes, by frequent, indeed +almost continued weeping, were sunk and heavy. Sometimes a gleam of hope +would play about her heart when she thought of her parents--"They cannot +surely," she would say, "refuse to forgive me; or should they deny their +pardon to me, they win not hate my innocent infant on account of its +mother's errors." How often did the poor mourner wish for the consoling +presence of the benevolent Mrs. Beauchamp. + +"If she were here," she would cry, "she would certainly comfort me, and +sooth the distraction of my soul." + +She was sitting one afternoon, wrapped in these melancholy reflexions, +when she was interrupted by the entrance of Belcour. Great as the +alteration was which incessant sorrow had made on her person, she was +still interesting, still charming; and the unhallowed flame, which had +urged Belcour to plant dissension between her and Montraville, still +raged in his bosom: he was determined, if possible, to make her his +mistress; nay, he had even conceived the diabolical scheme of taking her +to New-York, and making her appear in every public place where it was +likely she should meet Montraville, that he might be a witness to his +unmanly triumph. + +When he entered the room where Charlotte was sitting, he assumed +the look of tender, consolatory friendship. "And how does my lovely +Charlotte?" said he, taking her hand: "I fear you are not so well as I +could wish." + +"I am not well, Mr. Belcour," said she, "very far from it; but the pains +and infirmities of the body I could easily bear, nay, submit to them +with patience, were they not aggravated by the most insupportable +anguish of my mind." + +"You are not happy, Charlotte," said he, with a look of well-dissembled +sorrow. + +"Alas!" replied she mournfully, shaking her head, "how can I be happy, +deserted and forsaken as I am, without a friend of my own sex to whom I +can unburthen my full heart, nay, my fidelity suspected by the very man +for whom I have sacrificed every thing valuable in life, for whom I have +made myself a poor despised creature, an outcast from society, an object +only of contempt and pity." + +"You think too meanly of yourself, Miss Temple: there is no one who +would dare to treat you with contempt: all who have the pleasure of +knowing you must admire and esteem. You are lonely here, my dear girl; +give me leave to conduct you to New-York, where the agreeable society +of some ladies, to whom I will introduce you, will dispel these sad +thoughts, and I shall again see returning cheerfulness animate those +lovely features." + +"Oh never! never!" cried Charlotte, emphatically: "the virtuous part +of my sex will scorn me, and I will never associate with infamy. No, +Belcour, here let me hide my shame and sorrow, here let me spend my +few remaining days in obscurity, unknown and unpitied, here let me die +unlamented, and my name sink to oblivion." Here her tears stopped her +utterance. Belcour was awed to silence: he dared not interrupt her; and +after a moment's pause she proceeded--"I once had conceived the +thought of going to New-York to seek out the still dear, though cruel, +ungenerous Montraville, to throw myself at his feet, and entreat his +compassion; heaven knows, not for myself; if I am no longer beloved, +I will not be indebted to his pity to redress my injuries, but I would +have knelt and entreated him not to forsake my poor unborn--" She could +say no more; a crimson glow rushed over her cheeks, and covering her +face with her hands, she sobbed aloud. + +Something like humanity was awakened in Belcour's breast by this +pathetic speech: he arose and walked towards the window; but the selfish +passion which had taken possession of his heart, soon stifled these +finer emotions; and he thought if Charlotte was once convinced she had +no longer any dependance on Montraville, she would more readily throw +herself on his protection. Determined, therefore, to inform her of all +that had happened, he again resumed his seat; and finding she began to +be more composed, enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since +the unfortunate recontre in her bed chamber. + +"Ah no," said she. "I fear I shall never hear from him again." + +"I am greatly of your opinion," said Belcour, "for he has been for some +time past greatly attached--" + +At the word "attached" a death-like paleness overspread the countenance +of Charlotte, but she applied to some hartshorn which stood beside her, +and Belcour proceeded. + +"He has been for some time past greatly attached to one Miss Franklin, a +pleasing lively girl, with a large fortune." + +"She may be richer, may be handsomer," cried Charlotte, "but cannot love +him so well. Oh may she beware of his art, and not trust him too far as +I have done." + +"He addresses her publicly," said he, "and it was rumoured they were +to be married before he sailed for Eustatia, whither his company is +ordered." + +"Belcour," said Charlotte, seizing his hand, and gazing at him +earnestly, while her pale lips trembled with convulsive agony, "tell me, +and tell me truly, I beseech you, do you think he can be such a villain +as to marry another woman, and leave me to die with want and misery in +a strange land: tell me what you think; I can bear it very well; I +will not shrink from this heaviest stroke of fate; I have deserved my +afflictions, and I will endeavour to bear them as I ought." + +"I fear," said Belcour, "he can be that villain." + +"Perhaps," cried she, eagerly interrupting him, "perhaps he is married +already: come, let me know the worst," continued she with an affected +look of composure: "you need not be afraid, I shall not send the +fortunate lady a bowl of poison." + +"Well then, my dear girl," said he, deceived by her appearance, +"they were married on Thursday, and yesterday morning they sailed for +Eustatia." + +"Married--gone--say you?" cried she in a distracted accent, "what +without a last farewell, without one thought on my unhappy situation! +Oh Montraville, may God forgive your perfidy." She shrieked, and Belcour +sprang forward just in time to prevent her falling to the floor. + +Alarming faintings now succeeded each other, and she was conveyed to +her bed, from whence she earnestly prayed she might never more arise. +Belcour staid with her that night, and in the morning found her in a +high fever. The fits she had been seized with had greatly terrified him; +and confined as she now was to a bed of sickness, she was no longer an +object of desire: it is true for several days he went constantly to see +her, but her pale, emaciated appearance disgusted him: his visits became +less frequent; he forgot the solemn charge given him by Montraville; he +even forgot the money entrusted to his care; and, the burning blush of +indignation and shame tinges my cheek while I write it, this disgrace to +humanity and manhood at length forgot even the injured Charlotte; and, +attracted by the blooming health of a farmer's daughter, whom he had +seen in his frequent excursions to the country, he left the unhappy girl +to sink unnoticed to the grave, a prey to sickness, grief, and penury; +while he, having triumphed over the virtue of the artless cottager, +rioted in all the intemperance of luxury and lawless pleasure. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +A TRIFLING RETROSPECT. + +"BLESS my heart," cries my young, volatile reader, "I shall never have +patience to get through these volumes, there are so many ahs! and +ohs! so much fainting, tears, and distress, I am sick to death of the +subject." My dear, cheerful, innocent girl, for innocent I will +suppose you to be, or you would acutely feel the woes of Charlotte, +did conscience say, thus might it have been with me, had not Providence +interposed to snatch me from destruction: therefore, my lively, innocent +girl, I must request your patience: I am writing a tale of truth: I +mean to write it to the heart: but if perchance the heart is rendered +impenetrable by unbounded prosperity, or a continuance in vice, I expect +not my tale to please, nay, I even expect it will be thrown by with +disgust. But softly, gentle fair one; I pray you throw it not aside till +you have perused the whole; mayhap you may find something therein to +repay you for the trouble. Methinks I see a sarcastic smile sit on your +countenance.--"And what," cry you, "does the conceited author suppose +we can glean from these pages, if Charlotte is held up as an object of +terror, to prevent us from falling into guilty errors? does not La Rue +triumph in her shame, and by adding art to guilt, obtain the affection +of a worthy man, and rise to a station where she is beheld with respect, +and cheerfully received into all companies. What then is the moral +you would inculcate? Would you wish us to think that a deviation +from virtue, if covered by art and hypocrisy, is not an object of +detestation, but on the contrary shall raise us to fame and honour? +while the hapless girl who falls a victim to her too great sensibility, +shall be loaded with ignominy and shame?" No, my fair querist, I mean no +such thing. Remember the endeavours of the wicked are often suffered to +prosper, that in the end their fall may be attended with more bitterness +of heart; while the cup of affliction is poured out for wise and +salutary ends, and they who are compelled to drain it even to the bitter +dregs, often find comfort at the bottom; the tear of penitence blots +their offences from the book of fate, and they rise from the heavy, +painful trial, purified and fit for a mansion in the kingdom of +eternity. + +Yes, my young friends, the tear of compassion shall fall for the fate of +Charlotte, while the name of La Rue shall be detested and despised. For +Charlotte, the soul melts with sympathy; for La Rue, it feels nothing +but horror and contempt. But perhaps your gay hearts would rather +follow the fortunate Mrs. Crayton through the scenes of pleasure and +dissipation in which she was engaged, than listen to the complaints +and miseries of Charlotte. I will for once oblige you; I will for once +follow her to midnight revels, balls, and scenes of gaiety, for in such +was she constantly engaged. + +I have said her person was lovely; let us add that she was surrounded by +splendor and affluence, and he must know but little of the world who can +wonder, (however faulty such a woman's conduct,) at her being followed +by the men, and her company courted by the women: in short Mrs. Crayton +was the universal favourite: she set the fashions, she was toasted by +all the gentlemen, and copied by all the ladies. + +Colonel Crayton was a domestic man. Could he be happy with such a woman? +impossible! Remonstrance was vain: he might as well have preached to the +winds, as endeavour to persuade her from any action, however ridiculous, +on which she had set her mind: in short, after a little ineffectual +struggle, he gave up the attempt, and left her to follow the bent of +her own inclinations: what those were, I think the reader must have seen +enough of her character to form a just idea. Among the number who paid +their devotions at her shrine, she singled one, a young Ensign of mean +birth, indifferent education, and weak intellects. How such a man came +into the army, we hardly know to account for, and how he afterwards rose +to posts of honour is likewise strange and wonderful. But fortune is +blind, and so are those too frequently who have the power of dispensing +her favours: else why do we see fools and knaves at the very top of the +wheel, while patient merit sinks to the extreme of the opposite abyss. +But we may form a thousand conjectures on this subject, and yet never +hit on the right. Let us therefore endeavour to deserve her smiles, and +whether we succeed or not, we shall feel more innate satisfaction, than +thousands of those who bask in the sunshine of her favour unworthily. +But to return to Mrs. Crayton: this young man, whom I shall distinguish +by the name of Corydon, was the reigning favourite of her heart. He +escorted her to the play, danced with her at every ball, and when +indisposition prevented her going out, it was he alone who was permitted +to cheer the gloomy solitude to which she was obliged to confine +herself. Did she ever think of poor Charlotte?--if she did, my dear +Miss, it was only to laugh at the poor girl's want of spirit in +consenting to be moped up in the country, while Montraville was enjoying +all the pleasures of a gay, dissipated city. When she heard of his +marriage, she smiling said, so there's an end of Madam Charlotte's +hopes. I wonder who will take her now, or what will become of the little +affected prude? + +But as you have lead to the subject, I think we may as well return to +the distressed Charlotte, and not, like the unfeeling Mrs. Crayton, shut +our hearts to the call of humanity. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +WE GO FORWARD AGAIN. + +THE strength of Charlotte's constitution combatted against her disorder, +and she began slowly to recover, though she still laboured under a +violent depression of spirits: how must that depression be encreased, +when, upon examining her little store, she found herself reduced to +one solitary guinea, and that during her illness the attendance of an +apothecary and nurse, together with many other unavoidable expences, +had involved her in debt, from which she saw no method of extricating +herself. As to the faint hope which she had entertained of hearing from +and being relieved by her parents; it now entirely forsook her, for +it was above four months since her letter was dispatched, and she had +received no answer: she therefore imagined that her conduct had either +entirely alienated their affection from her, or broken their hearts, and +she must never more hope to receive their blessing. + +Never did any human being wish for death with greater fervency or +with juster cause; yet she had too just a sense of the duties of the +Christian religion to attempt to put a period to her own existence. "I +have but to be patient a little longer," she would cry, "and nature, +fatigued and fainting, will throw off this heavy load of mortality, and +I shall be released from all my sufferings." + +It was one cold stormy day in the latter end of December, as Charlotte +sat by a handful of fire, the low state of her finances not allowing her +to replenish her stock of fuel, and prudence teaching her to be careful +of what she had, when she was surprised by the entrance of a farmer's +wife, who, without much ceremony, seated herself, and began this curious +harangue. + +"I'm come to see if as how you can pay your rent, because as how we hear +Captain Montable is gone away, and it's fifty to one if he b'ant killed +afore he comes back again; an then, Miss, or Ma'am, or whatever you may +be, as I was saying to my husband, where are we to look for our money." + +This was a stroke altogether unexpected by Charlotte: she knew so little +of the ways of the world that she had never bestowed a thought on the +payment for the rent of the house; she knew indeed that she owed a +good deal, but this was never reckoned among the others: she was +thunder-struck; she hardly knew what answer to make, yet it was +absolutely necessary that she should say something; and judging of the +gentleness of every female disposition by her own, she thought the best +way to interest the woman in her favour would be to tell her candidly to +what a situation she was reduced, and how little probability there was +of her ever paying any body. + +Alas poor Charlotte, how confined was her knowledge of human nature, or +she would have been convinced that the only way to insure the friendship +and assistance of your surrounding acquaintance is to convince them you +do not require it, for when once the petrifying aspect of distress and +penury appear, whose qualities, like Medusa's head, can change to stone +all that look upon it; when once this Gorgon claims acquaintance with +us, the phantom of friendship, that before courted our notice, will +vanish into unsubstantial air, and the whole world before us appear a +barren waste. Pardon me, ye dear spirits of benevolence, whose benign +smiles and cheerful-giving hand have strewed sweet flowers on many a +thorny path through which my wayward fate forced me to pass; think not, +that, in condemning the unfeeling texture of the human heart, I forget +the spring from whence flow an the comforts I enjoy: oh no! I look up +to you as to bright constellations, gathering new splendours from the +surrounding darkness; but ah! whilst I adore the benignant rays that +cheered and illumined my heart, I mourn that their influence cannot +extend to all the sons and daughters of affliction. + +"Indeed, Madam," said poor Charlotte in a tremulous accent, "I am at a +loss what to do. Montraville placed me here, and promised to defray all +my expenses: but he has forgot his promise, he has forsaken me, and I +have no friend who has either power or will to relieve me. Let me hope, +as you see my unhappy situation, your charity--" + +"Charity," cried the woman impatiently interrupting her, "charity +indeed: why, Mistress, charity begins at home, and I have seven children +at home, HONEST, LAWFUL children, and it is my duty to keep them; and do +you think I will give away my property to a nasty, impudent hussey, to +maintain her and her bastard; an I was saying to my husband the other +day what will this world come to; honest women are nothing now-a-days, +while the harlotings are set up for fine ladies, and look upon us no +more nor the dirt they walk upon: but let me tell you, my fine spoken +Ma'am, I must have my money; so seeing as how you can't pay it, why you +must troop, and leave all your fine gimcracks and fal der ralls behind +you. I don't ask for no more nor my right, and nobody shall dare for to +go for to hinder me of it." + +"Oh heavens," cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, "what will become of +me?" + +"Come on ye!" retorted the unfeeling wretch: "why go to the barracks and +work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers cloaths, an cook +their victuals, and not expect to live in idleness on honest people's +means. Oh I wish I could see the day when all such cattle were obliged +to work hard and eat little; it's only what they deserve." + +"Father of mercy," cried Charlotte, "I acknowledge thy correction just; +but prepare me, I beseech thee, for the portion of misery thou may'st +please to lay upon me." + +"Well," said the woman, "I shall go an tell my husband as how you can't +pay; and so d'ye see, Ma'am, get ready to be packing away this very +night, for you should not stay another night in this house, though I was +sure you would lay in the street." + +Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the anguish of her heart was +too great to permit her to articulate a single word. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep, + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep. +WHEN Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course she +must take, or to whom she could apply, to prevent her perishing for +want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency of +the season. After many perplexed thoughts, she at last determined to +set out for New-York, and enquire out Mrs. Crayton, from whom she had no +doubt but she should obtain immediate relief as soon as her distress was +made known; she had no sooner formed this resolution than she resolved +immediately to put it in execution: she therefore wrote the following +little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thinking if she should have company with +her it would be better to send it in than to request to see her. + +TO MRS. CRAYTON. + +"MADAM, + +"When we left our native land, that dear, happy land which now contains +all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same; +we both, pardon me, Madam, if I say, we both too easily followed the +impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on a +tempestuous ocean, where mine has been wrecked and lost for ever; +you have been more fortunate--you are united to a man of honour and +humanity, united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, and +admired, and surrounded by innumerable blessings of which I am bereaved, +enjoying those pleasures which have fled my bosom never to return; alas! +sorrow and deep regret have taken their place. Behold me, Madam, a poor +forsaken wanderer, who has no where to lay her weary head, wherewith to +supply the wants of nature, or to shield her from the inclemency of the +weather. To you I sue, to you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to +be received as an intimate or an equal; only for charity's sweet sake +receive me into your hospitable mansion, allot me the meanest apartment +in it, and let me breath out my soul in prayers for your happiness; I +cannot, I feel I cannot long bear up under the accumulated woes that +pour in upon me; but oh! my dear Madam, for the love of heaven suffer me +not to expire in the street; and when I am at peace, as soon I shall be, +extend your compassion to my helpless offspring, should it please heaven +that it should survive its unhappy mother. A gleam of joy breaks in on +my benighted soul while I reflect that you cannot, will not refuse your +protection to the heart-broken. CHARLOTTE." + +When Charlotte had finished this letter, late as it was in the +afternoon, and though the snow began to fall very fast, she tied up a +few necessaries which she had prepared against her expected confinement, +and terrified lest she should be again exposed to the insults of her +barbarous landlady, more dreadful to her wounded spirit than either +storm or darkness, she set forward for New-York. + +It may be asked by those, who, in a work of this kind, love to cavil at +every trifling omission, whether Charlotte did not possess any valuable +of which she could have disposed, and by that means have supported +herself till Mrs. Beauchamp's return, when she would have been certain +of receiving every tender attention which compassion and friendship +could dictate: but let me entreat these wise, penetrating gentlemen to +reflect, that when Charlotte left England, it was in such haste that +there was no time to purchase any thing more than what was wanted +for immediate use on the voyage, and after her arrival at New-York, +Montraville's affection soon began to decline, so that her whole +wardrobe consisted of only necessaries, and as to baubles, with which +fond lovers often load their mistresses, she possessed not one, except a +plain gold locket of small value, which contained a lock of her mother's +hair, and which the greatest extremity of want could not have forced her +to part with. + +I hope, Sir, your prejudices are now removed in regard to the +probability of my story? Oh they are. Well then, with your leave, I will +proceed. + +The distance from the house which our suffering heroine occupied, to +New-York, was not very great, yet the snow fen so fast, and the cold so +intense, that, being unable from her situation to walk quick, she found +herself almost sinking with cold and fatigue before she reached the +town; her garments, which were merely suitable to the summer season, +being an undress robe of plain white muslin, were wet through, and +a thin black cloak and bonnet, very improper habiliments for such a +climate, but poorly defended her from the cold. In this situation she +reached the city, and enquired of a foot soldier whom she met, the way +to Colonel Crayton's. + +"Bless you, my sweet lady," said the soldier with a voice and look of +compassion, "I will shew you the way with all my heart; but if you are +going to make a petition to Madam Crayton it is all to no purpose I +assure you: if you please I will conduct you to Mr. Franklin's; though +Miss Julia is married and gone now, yet the old gentleman is very good." + +"Julia Franklin," said Charlotte; "is she not married to Montraville?" + +"Yes," replied the soldier, "and may God bless them, for a better +officer never lived, he is so good to us all; and as to Miss Julia, all +the poor folk almost worshipped her." + +"Gracious heaven," cried Charlotte, "is Montraville unjust then to none +but me." + +The soldier now shewed her Colonel Crayton's door, and, with a beating +heart, she knocked for admission. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +SUBJECT CONTINUED. + +WHEN the door was opened, Charlotte, in a voice rendered scarcely +articulate, through cold and the extreme agitation of her mind, demanded +whether Mrs. Crayton was at home. The servant hesitated: he knew that +his lady was engaged at a game of picquet with her dear Corydon, +nor could he think she would like to be disturbed by a person whose +appearance spoke her of so little consequence as Charlotte; yet there +was something in her countenance that rather interested him in her +favour, and he said his lady was engaged, but if she had any particular +message he would deliver it. + +"Take up this letter," said Charlotte: "tell her the unhappy writer of +it waits in her hall for an answer." The tremulous accent, the tearful +eye, must have moved any heart not composed of adamant. The man took the +letter from the poor suppliant, and hastily ascended the stair case. + +"A letter, Madam," said he, presenting it to his lady: "an immediate +answer is required." + +Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carelessly over the contents. "What stuff +is this;" cried she haughtily; "have not I told you a thousand times +that I will not be plagued with beggars, and petitions from people one +knows nothing about? Go tell the woman I can't do any thing in it. I'm +sorry, but one can't relieve every body." + +The servant bowed, and heavily returned with this chilling message to +Charlotte. + +"Surely," said she, "Mrs. Crayton has not read my letter. Go, my +good friend, pray go back to her; tell her it is Charlotte Temple who +requests beneath her hospitable roof to find shelter from the inclemency +of the season." + +"Prithee, don't plague me, man," cried Mrs. Crayton impatiently, as the +servant advanced something in behalf of the unhappy girl. "I tell you I +don't know her." + +"Not know me," cried Charlotte, rushing into the room, (for she had +followed the man up stairs) "not know me, not remember the ruined +Charlotte Temple, who, but for you, perhaps might still have been +innocent, still have been happy. Oh! La Rue, this is beyond every thing +I could have believed possible." + +"Upon my honour, Miss," replied the unfeeling woman with the utmost +effrontery, "this is a most unaccountable address: it is beyond my +comprehension. John," continued she, turning to the servant, "the +young woman is certainly out of her senses: do pray take her away, she +terrifies me to death." + +"Oh God," cried Charlotte, clasping her hands in an agony, "this is too +much; what will become of me? but I will not leave you; they shall +not tear me from you; here on my knees I conjure you to save me from +perishing in the streets; if you really have forgot me, oh for charity's +sweet sake this night let me be sheltered from the winter's piercing +cold." The kneeling figure of Charlotte in her affecting situation might +have moved the heart of a stoic to compassion; but Mrs. Crayton remained +inflexible. In vain did Charlotte recount the time they had known each +other at Chichester, in vain mention their being in the same ship, in +vain were the names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned. Mrs. Crayton +could only say she was sorry for her imprudence, but could not think of +having her own reputation endangered by encouraging a woman of that kind +in her own house, besides she did not know what trouble and expense +she might bring upon her husband by giving shelter to a woman in her +situation. + +"I can at least die here," said Charlotte, "I feel I cannot long +survive this dreadful conflict. Father of mercy, here let me finish +my existence." Her agonizing sensations overpowered her, and she fell +senseless on the floor. + +"Take her away," said Mrs. Crayton, "she will really frighten me into +hysterics; take her away I say this instant." + +"And where must I take the poor creature?" said the servant with a voice +and look of compassion. + +"Any where," cried she hastily, "only don't let me ever see her again. I +declare she has flurried me so I shan't be myself again this fortnight." + +John, assisted by his fellow-servant, raised and carried her down +stairs. "Poor soul," said he, "you shall not lay in the street this +night. I have a bed and a poor little hovel, where my wife and her +little ones rest them, but they shall watch to night, and you shall be +sheltered from danger." They placed her in a chair; and the benevolent +man, assisted by one of his comrades, carried her to the place where his +wife and children lived. A surgeon was sent for: he bled her, she gave +signs of returning life, and before the dawn gave birth to a female +infant. After this event she lay for some hours in a kind of stupor; and +if at any time she spoke, it was with a quickness and incoherence that +plainly evinced the total deprivation of her reason. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +REASONS WHY AND WHEREFORE. + +THE reader of sensibility may perhaps be astonished to find Mrs. Crayton +could so positively deny any knowledge of Charlotte; it is therefore but +just that her conduct should in some measure be accounted for. She had +ever been fully sensible of the superiority of Charlotte's sense and +virtue; she was conscious that she had never swerved from rectitude, had +it not been for her bad precepts and worse example. These were things as +yet unknown to her husband, and she wished not to have that part of her +conduct exposed to him, as she had great reason to fear she had already +lost considerable part of that power she once maintained over him. She +trembled whilst Charlotte was in the house, lest the Colonel should +return; she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested in +her favour whilst on their passage from England, and made no doubt, but, +should he see her in her present distress, he would offer her an asylum, +and protect her to the utmost of his power. In that case she feared the +unguarded nature of Charlotte might discover to the Colonel the part +she had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement, and she well knew the +contrast between her own and Charlotte's conduct would make the former +appear in no very respectable light. Had she reflected properly, she +would have afforded the poor girl protection; and by enjoining her +silence, ensured it by acts of repeated kindness; but vice in general +blinds its votaries, and they discover their real characters to the +world when they are most studious to preserve appearances. + +Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton: her servants made no scruple of +mentioning the cruel conduct of their lady to a poor distressed +lunatic who claimed her protection; every one joined in reprobating her +inhumanity; nay even Corydon thought she might at least have ordered her +to be taken care of, but he dare not even hint it to her, for he lived +but in her smiles, and drew from her lavish fondness large sums to +support an extravagance to which the state of his own finances was very +inadequate; it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton +to be very liberal in her bounty to the afflicted suppliant; yet vice +had not so entirely seared over his heart, but the sorrows of Charlotte +could find a vulnerable part. + +Charlotte had now been three days with her humane preservers, but +she was totally insensible of every thing: she raved incessantly for +Montraville and her father: she was not conscious of being a mother, nor +took the least notice of her child except to ask whose it was, and why +it was not carried to its parents. + +"Oh," said she one day, starting up on hearing the infant cry, "why, why +will you keep that child here; I am sure you would not if you knew +how hard it was for a mother to be parted from her infant: it is like +tearing the cords of life asunder. Oh could you see the horrid sight +which I now behold--there there stands my dear mother, her poor bosom +bleeding at every vein, her gentle, affectionate heart torn in a +thousand pieces, and all for the loss of a ruined, ungrateful child. +Save me save me--from her frown. I dare not--indeed I dare not speak to +her." + +Such were the dreadful images that haunted her distracted mind, and +nature was sinking fast under the dreadful malady which medicine had +no power to remove. The surgeon who attended her was a humane man; he +exerted his utmost abilities to save her, but he saw she was in want of +many necessaries and comforts, which the poverty of her hospitable host +rendered him unable to provide: he therefore determined to make her +situation known to some of the officers' ladies, and endeavour to make a +collection for her relief. + +When he returned home, after making this resolution, he found a message +from Mrs. Beauchamp, who had just arrived from Rhode-Island, requesting +he would call and see one of her children, who was very unwell. "I do +not know," said he, as he was hastening to obey the summons, "I do not +know a woman to whom I could apply with more hope of success than Mrs. +Beauchamp. I will endeavour to interest her in this poor girl's behalf, +she wants the soothing balm of friendly consolation: we may perhaps save +her; we will try at least." + +"And where is she," cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed +something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, "where is +she, Sir? we will go to her immediately. Heaven forbid that I should +be deaf to the calls of humanity. Come we will go this instant." Then +seizing the doctor's arm, they sought the habitation that contained the +dying Charlotte. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +WHICH PEOPLE VOID OF FEELING NEED NOT READ. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp entered the apartment of the poor sufferer, she +started back with horror. On a wretched bed, without hangings and but +poorly supplied with covering, lay the emaciated figure of what still +retained the semblance of a lovely woman, though sickness had so altered +her features that Mrs. Beauchamp had not the least recollection of her +person. In one corner of the room stood a woman washing, and, shivering +over a small fire, two healthy but half naked children; the infant +was asleep beside its mother, and, on a chair by the bed side, stood +a porrenger and wooden spoon, containing a little gruel, and a tea-cup +with about two spoonfulls of wine in it. Mrs. Beauchamp had never +before beheld such a scene of poverty; she shuddered involuntarily, and +exclaiming--"heaven preserve us!" leaned on the back of a chair ready to +sink to the earth. The doctor repented having so precipitately brought +her into this affecting scene; but there was no time for apologies: +Charlotte caught the sound of her voice, and starting almost out of bed, +exclaimed--"Angel of peace and mercy, art thou come to deliver me? Oh, +I know you are, for whenever you was near me I felt eased of half my +sorrows; but you don't know me, nor can I, with all the recollection I +am mistress of, remember your name just now, but I know that benevolent +countenance, and the softness of that voice which has so often comforted +the wretched Charlotte." + +Mrs. Beauchamp had, during the time Charlotte was speaking, seated +herself on the bed and taken one of her hands; she looked at her +attentively, and at the name of Charlotte she perfectly conceived +the whole shocking affair. A faint sickness came over her. "Gracious +heaven," said she, "is this possible?" and bursting into tears, she +reclined the burning head of Charlotte on her own bosom; and folding her +arms about her, wept over her in silence. "Oh," said Charlotte, "you are +very good to weep thus for me: it is a long time since I shed a tear for +myself: my head and heart are both on fire, but these tears of your's +seem to cool and refresh it. Oh now I remember you said you would send +a letter to my poor father: do you think he ever received it? or perhaps +you have brought me an answer: why don't you speak, Madam? Does he say I +may go home? Well he is very good; I shall soon be ready." + +She then made an effort to get out of bed; but being prevented, her +frenzy again returned, and she raved with the greatest wildness and +incoherence. Mrs. Beauchamp, finding it was impossible for her to be +removed, contented herself with ordering the apartment to be made more +comfortable, and procuring a proper nurse for both mother and child; and +having learnt the particulars of Charlotte's fruitless application +to Mrs. Crayton from honest John, she amply rewarded him for his +benevolence, and returned home with a heart oppressed with many +painful sensations, but yet rendered easy by the reflexion that she had +performed her duty towards a distressed fellow-creature. + +Early the next morning she again visited Charlotte, and found her +tolerably composed; she called her by name, thanked her for her +goodness, and when her child was brought to her, pressed it in her +arms, wept over it, and called it the offspring of disobedience. Mrs. +Beauchamp was delighted to see her so much amended, and began to hope +she might recover, and, spite of her former errors, become an useful and +respectable member of society; but the arrival of the doctor put an end +to these delusive hopes: he said nature was making her last effort, and +a few hours would most probably consign the unhappy girl to her kindred +dust. + +Being asked how she found herself, she replied--"Why better, much +better, doctor. I hope now I have but little more to suffer. I had last +night a few hours sleep, and when I awoke recovered the full power of +recollection. I am quite sensible of my weakness; I feel I have but +little longer to combat with the shafts of affliction. I have an humble +confidence in the mercy of him who died to save the world, and trust +that my sufferings in this state of mortality, joined to my unfeigned +repentance, through his mercy, have blotted my offences from the sight +of my offended maker. I have but one care--my poor infant! Father of +mercy," continued she, raising her eyes, "of thy infinite goodness, +grant that the sins of the parent be not visited on the unoffending +child. May those who taught me to despise thy laws be forgiven; lay not +my offences to their charge, I beseech thee; and oh! shower the choicest +of thy blessings on those whose pity has soothed the afflicted heart, +and made easy even the bed of pain and sickness." + +She was exhausted by this fervent address to the throne of mercy, and +though her lips still moved her voice became inarticulate: she lay for +some time as it were in a doze, and then recovering, faintly pressed +Mrs. Beauchamp's hand, and requested that a clergyman might be sent for. + +On his arrival she joined fervently in the pious office, frequently +mentioning her ingratitude to her parents as what lay most heavy at her +heart. When she had performed the last solemn duty, and was preparing to +lie down, a little bustle on the outside door occasioned Mrs. Beauchamp +to open it, and enquire the cause. A man in appearance about forty, +presented himself, and asked for Mrs. Beauchamp. + +"That is my name, Sir," said she. + +"Oh then, my dear Madam," cried he, "tell me where I may find my poor, +ruined, but repentant child." + +Mrs. Beauchamp was surprised and affected; she knew not what to say; she +foresaw the agony this interview would occasion Mr. Temple, who had just +arrived in search of his Charlotte, and yet was sensible that the pardon +and blessing of her father would soften even the agonies of death to the +daughter. + +She hesitated. "Tell me, Madam," cried he wildly, "tell me, I beseech +thee, does she live? shall I see my darling once again? Perhaps she is +in this house. Lead, lead me to her, that I may bless her, and then lie +down and die." + +The ardent manner in which he uttered these words occasioned him to +raise his voice. It caught the ear of Charlotte: she knew the beloved +sound: and uttering a loud shriek, she sprang forward as Mr. Temple +entered the room. "My adored father." "My long lost child." Nature +could support no more, and they both sunk lifeless into the arms of the +attendants. + +Charlotte was again put into bed, and a few moments restored Mr. Temple: +but to describe the agony of his sufferings is past the power of +any one, who, though they may readily conceive, cannot delineate the +dreadful scene. Every eye gave testimony of what each heart felt--but +all were silent. + +When Charlotte recovered, she found herself supported in her father's +arms. She cast on him a most expressive look, but was unable to speak. +A reviving cordial was administered. She then asked in a low voice, +for her child: it was brought to her: she put it in her father's arms. +"Protect her," said she, "and bless your dying--" + +Unable to finish the sentence, she sunk back on her pillow: her +countenance was serenely composed; she regarded her father as he pressed +the infant to his breast with a steadfast look; a sudden beam of joy +passed across her languid features, she raised her eyes to heaven--and +then closed them for ever. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +RETRIBUTION. + +IN the mean time Montraville having received orders to return to +New-York, arrived, and having still some remains of compassionate +tenderness for the woman whom he regarded as brought to shame by +himself, he went out in search of Belcour, to enquire whether she was +safe, and whether the child lived. He found him immersed in dissipation, +and could gain no other intelligence than that Charlotte had left him, +and that he knew not what was become of her. + +"I cannot believe it possible," said Montraville, "that a mind once so +pure as Charlotte Temple's, should so suddenly become the mansion of +vice. Beware, Belcour," continued he, "beware if you have dared to +behave either unjust or dishonourably to that poor girl, your life shall +pay the forfeit:--I will revenge her cause." + +He immediately went into the country, to the house where he had left +Charlotte. It was desolate. After much enquiry he at length found the +servant girl who had lived with her. From her he learnt the misery +Charlotte had endured from the complicated evils of illness, poverty, +and a broken heart, and that she had set out on foot for New-York, on a +cold winter's evening; but she could inform him no further. + +Tortured almost to madness by this shocking account, he returned to the +city, but, before he reached it, the evening was drawing to a close. +In entering the town he was obliged to pass several little huts, the +residence of poor women who supported themselves by washing the cloaths +of the officers and soldiers. It was nearly dark: he heard from a +neighbouring steeple a solemn toll that seemed to say some poor mortal +was going to their last mansion: the sound struck on the heart of +Montraville, and he involuntarily stopped, when, from one of the houses, +he saw the appearance of a funeral. Almost unknowing what he did, he +followed at a small distance; and as they let the coffin into the grave, +he enquired of a soldier who stood by, and had just brushed off a tear +that did honour to his heart, who it was that was just buried. "An +please your honour," said the man, "'tis a poor girl that was brought +from her friends by a cruel man, who left her when she was big with +child, and married another." Montraville stood motionless, and the man +proceeded--"I met her myself not a fortnight since one night all wet and +cold in the streets; she went to Madam Crayton's, but she would not take +her in, and so the poor thing went raving mad." Montraville could bear +no more; he struck his hands against his forehead with violence; and +exclaiming "poor murdered Charlotte!" ran with precipitation towards the +place where they were heaping the earth on her remains. "Hold, hold, one +moment," said he. "Close not the grave of the injured Charlotte Temple +till I have taken vengeance on her murderer." + +"Rash young man," said Mr. Temple, "who art thou that thus disturbest +the last mournful rites of the dead, and rudely breakest in upon the +grief of an afflicted father." + +"If thou art the father of Charlotte Temple," said he, gazing at +him with mingled horror and amazement--"if thou art her father--I am +Montraville." Then falling on his knees, he continued--"Here is my +bosom. I bare it to receive the stroke I merit. Strike--strike now, and +save me from the misery of reflexion." + +"Alas!" said Mr. Temple, "if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own +reflexions be thy punishment. I wrest not the power from the hand of +omnipotence. Look on that little heap of earth, there hast thou buried +the only joy of a fond father. Look at it often; and may thy heart feel +such true sorrow as shall merit the mercy of heaven." He turned from +him; and Montraville starting up from the ground, where he had thrown +himself, and at that instant remembering the perfidy of Belcour, flew +like lightning to his lodgings. Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville +impetuous: they fought, and the sword of the latter entered the heart +of his adversary. He fell, and expired almost instantly. Montraville had +received a slight wound; and overcome with the agitation of his mind and +loss of blood, was carried in a state of insensibility to his distracted +wife. A dangerous illness and obstinate delirium ensued, during which +he raved incessantly for Charlotte: but a strong constitution, and +the tender assiduities of Julia, in time overcame the disorder. He +recovered; but to the end of his life was subject to severe fits of +melancholy, and while he remained at New-York frequently retired to the +church-yard, where he would weep over the grave, and regret the untimely +fate of the lovely Charlotte Temple. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +CONCLUSION. + +SHORTLY after the interment of his daughter, Mr. Temple, with his +dear little charge and her nurse, set forward for England. It would be +impossible to do justice to the meeting scene between him, his Lucy, and +her aged father. Every heart of sensibility can easily conceive their +feelings. After the first tumult of grief was subsided, Mrs. Temple +gave up the chief of her time to her grand-child, and as she grew up and +improved, began to almost fancy she again possessed her Charlotte. + +It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and Mrs. +Temple, having buried their father, were obliged to come to London on +particular business, and brought the little Lucy with them. They had +been walking one evening, when on their return they found a poor +wretch sitting on the steps of the door. She attempted to rise as they +approached, but from extreme weakness was unable, and after several +fruitless efforts fell back in a fit. Mr. Temple was not one of those +men who stand to consider whether by assisting an object in distress +they shall not inconvenience themselves, but instigated by the impulse +of a noble feeling heart, immediately ordered her to be carried into the +house, and proper restoratives applied. + +She soon recovered; and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Temple, cried--"You know +not, Madam, what you do; you know not whom you are relieving, or you +would curse me in the bitterness of your heart. Come not near me, Madam, +I shall contaminate you. I am the viper that stung your peace. I am the +woman who turned the poor Charlotte out to perish in the street. Heaven +have mercy! I see her now," continued she looking at Lucy; "such, such +was the fair bud of innocence that my vile arts blasted ere it was half +blown." + +It was in vain that Mr. and Mrs. Temple intreated her to be composed and +to take some refreshment. She only drank half a glass of wine; and then +told them that she had been separated from her husband seven years, +the chief of which she had passed in riot, dissipation, and vice, till, +overtaken by poverty and sickness, she had been reduced to part with +every valuable, and thought only of ending her life in a prison; when a +benevolent friend paid her debts and released her; but that her illness +increasing, she had no possible means of supporting herself, and her +friends were weary of relieving her. "I have fasted," said she, "two +days, and last night lay my aching head on the cold pavement: indeed it +was but just that I should experience those miseries myself which I had +unfeelingly inflicted on others." + +Greatly as Mr. Temple had reason to detest Mrs. Crayton, he could not +behold her in this distress without some emotions of pity. He gave her +shelter that night beneath his hospitable roof, and the next day got her +admission into an hospital; where having lingered a few weeks, she died, +a striking example that vice, however prosperous in the beginning, in +the end leads only to misery and shame. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLOTTE TEMPLE *** + +***** This file should be named 171.txt or 171.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/171/ + +Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. Binary files differdiff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac38470 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #171 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/171) diff --git a/old/chtem10.txt b/old/chtem10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..13b9dd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/chtem10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4438 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Charlotte Temple by Susanna Rowson + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson + +October, 1994 [Etext #171] + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Charlotte Temple by Susanna Rowson +******This file should be named chtem10.txt or chtem10.zip******* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, chtem11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, chtem10a.txt. + +This etext was created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska. The +equipment: an IBM-compatible 486/50, a Hewlett-Packard ScanJet +IIc flatbed scanner, and a copy of Calera Recognition Systems' +M/600 Series Professional OCR software and RISC accelerator +board donated by Calera. + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about one million dollars for each hour we work. One +hundred hours is a conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar, then we produce a +million dollars per hour; next year we will have to do four text +files per month, thus upping our productivity to two million/hr. +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois +Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go +to IBC, too) + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +David Turner, Project Gutenberg +Illinois Benedictine College +5700 College Road +Lisle, IL 60532-0900 + +Email requests to: +Internet: chipmonk@eagle.ibc.edu (David Turner) +Compuserve: chipmonk@eagle.ibc.edu (David Turner) +Attmail: internet!chipmonk@eagle.ibc.edu (David Turner) +MCImail: (David Turner) +ADDRESS TYPE: MCI / EMS: INTERNET / MBX:chipmonk@eagle.ibc.edu + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please: + +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +ftp mrcnext.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext91 +or cd etext92 [for new books] [now also cd etext/etext92] +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX and AAINDEX +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + +****START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START**** + +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT + +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, +you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept this +"Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive a +refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by sending +a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person you got +it from. If you received this etext on a physical medium (such +as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS + +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association (the +"Project"). Among other things, this means that no one owns a +United States copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special +rules, set forth below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute +this etext under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable efforts +to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain works. +Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any medium they +may be on may contain "Defects". Among other things, Defects +may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, +transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property +infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other etext medium, +a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be +read by your equipment. + +DISCLAIMER + +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this etext +from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all liability to +you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees, and +[2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL +DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you +paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that time to +the person you received it from. If you received it on a +physical medium, you must return it with your note, and such +person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement copy. +If you received it electronically, such person may choose to +alternatively give you a second opportunity to receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY + +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise from any +distribution of this etext for which you are responsible, and +from [1] any alteration, modification or addition to the etext +for which you are responsible, or [2] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" + +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this "Small +Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this re- + quires that you do not remove, alter or modify the etext or + this "small print!" statement. You may however, if you + wish, distribute this etext in machine readable binary, + compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, including any + form resulting from conversion by word processing or hyper- + text software, but only so long as *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable. We + consider an etext *not* clearly readable if it + contains characters other than those intended by the + author of the work, although tilde (~), asterisk (*) + and underline (_) characters may be used to convey + punctuation intended by the author, and additional + characters may be used to indicate hypertext links. + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at no + expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent form + by the program that displays the etext (as is the + case, for instance, with most word processors). + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at no + additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the etext + in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC or + other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee of 20% (twenty percent) of the + net profits you derive from distributing this etext under + the trademark, determined in accordance with generally + accepted accounting practices. The license fee: + + [*] Is required only if you derive such profits. In + distributing under our trademark, you incur no + obligation to charge money or earn profits for your + distribution. + + [*] Shall be paid to "Project Gutenberg Association / + Illinois Benedictine College" (or to such other person + as the Project Gutenberg Association may direct) + within the 60 days following each date you prepare (or + were legally required to prepare) your year-end tax + return with respect to your income for that year. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +WRITE TO US! We can be reached at: + +Project Gutenberg Director of Communications (PGDIRCOM) + +Internet: pgdircom@vmd.cso.uiuc.edu +Bitnet: pgdircom@uiucvmd +CompuServe: >internet:pgdircom@.vmd.cso.uiuc.edu +Attmail: internet!vmd.cso.uiuc.edu!pgdircom + +Drafted by CHARLES B. KRAMER, Attorney +CompuServe: 72600,2026 + Internet: 72600.2026@compuserve.com + Tel: (212) 254-5093 +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07.02.92*END* + +CHARLOTTE + +TEMPLE + +SUSANNA HASWELL ROWSON + + + CHAPTER I. + A Boarding School. + + CHAPTER II. + Domestic Concerns. + + CHAPTER III. + Unexpected Misfortunes. + + CHAPTER IV. + Change of Fortune. + + CHAPTER V. + Such Things Are. + + CHAPTER VI. + An Intriguing Teacher. + + CHAPTER VII. + Natural Sense of Propriety Inherent in the + Female Bosom. + + CHAPTER VIII. + Domestic Pleasures Planned. + + CHAPTER IX. + We Know Not What a Day May Bring Forth. + + CHAPTER X. + When We Have Excited Curiosity, It Is But an Act + of Good Nature to Gratify it. + + CHAPTER XI. + Conflict of Love and Duty. + + CHAPTER XII. + Nature's last, best gift: + Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could + To sight or thought be nam'd! + Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet! + How thou art falln'!-- + + CHAPTER XIII. + Cruel Disappointment. + + CHAPTER XIV. + Maternal Sorrow. + + CHAPTER XV. + Embarkation. + + CHAPTER XVI. + Necessary Digression. + + CHAPTER XVII. + A Wedding. + +VOLUME II. + + CHAPTER XVIII. + Reflections. + + CHAPTER XIX. + A Mistake Discovered. + + CHAPTER XX. + Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching + forth her hand to raise a fallen sister. + Chapter of Accidents. + + CHAPTER XXI. + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see, + That mercy I to others show + That mercy show to me. POPE. + + CHAPTER XXII. + Sorrows of the Heart. + + CHAPTER XXIII. + A Man May Smile, and Smile, and Be a Villain. + + CHAPTER XXIV. + Mystery Developed. + + CHAPTER XXV. + Reception of a Letter. + + CHAPTER XXVI. + What Might Be Expected. + + CHAPTER XXVII. + Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, + Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + A Trifling Retrospect. + + CHAPTER XXIX. + We Go Forward Again. + + CHAPTER XXX. + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep, + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep. + + CHAPTER XXXI. + Subject Continued. + + CHAPTER XXXII. + Reasons Why and Wherefore. + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + Which People Void of Feeling Need Not Read. + + CHAPTER XXXIV. + Retribution. + + CHAPTER XXXV. + Conclusion. + + + PREFACE. + +FOR the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex, +this Tale of Truth is designed; and I could wish my fair readers +to consider it as not merely the effusion of Fancy, but as a reality. +The circumstances on which I have founded this novel were related +to me some little time since by an old lady who had personally +known Charlotte, though she concealed the real names of the characters, +and likewise the place where the unfortunate scenes were acted: +yet as it was impossible to offer a relation to the public in such an +imperfect state, I have thrown over the whole a slight veil of fiction, +and substituted names and places according to my own fancy. +The principal characters in this little tale are now consigned +to the silent tomb: it can therefore hurt the feelings of no one; +and may, I flatter myself, be of service to some who are so unfortunate +as to have neither friends to advise, or understanding to direct them, +through the various and unexpected evils that attend a young +and unprotected woman in her first entrance into life. + +While the tear of compassion still trembled in my eye for the fate +of the unhappy Charlotte, I may have children of my own, said I, +to whom this recital may be of use, and if to your own children, +said Benevolence, why not to the many daughters of Misfortune who, +deprived of natural friends, or spoilt by a mistaken education, +are thrown on an unfeeling world without the least power to defend +themselves from the snares not only of the other sex, but from +the more dangerous arts of the profligate of their own. + +Sensible as I am that a novel writer, at a time when such a variety +of works are ushered into the world under that name, stands + +6 PREFACE. + +but a poor chance for fame in the annals of literature, but conscious +that I wrote with a mind anxious for the happiness of that sex whose +morals and conduct have so powerful an influence on mankind in general; +and convinced that I have not wrote a line that conveys a wrong idea +to the head or a corrupt wish to the heart, I shall rest satisfied +in the purity of my own intentions, and if I merit not applause, +I feel that I dread not censure. + +If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from +the errors which ruined poor Charlotte, or rescue from impending +misery the heart of one anxious parent, I shall feel a much +higher gratification in reflecting on this trifling performance, +than could possibly result from the applause which might attend +the most elegant finished piece of literature whose tendency might +deprave the heart or mislead the understanding. + + CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, + + VOLUME I + + CHAPTER I. + + A BOARDING SCHOOL. + +"ARE you for a walk," said Montraville to his companion, +as they arose from table; "are you for a walk? or shall we order +the chaise and proceed to Portsmouth?" Belcour preferred the former; +and they sauntered out to view the town, and to make remarks on +the inhabitants, as they returned from church. + +Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his +brother officer: they had been to take leave of their friends +previous to their departure for America, and were now returning +to Portsmouth, where the troops waited orders for embarkation. +They had stopped at Chichester to dine; and knowing they had +sufficient time to reach the place of destination before dark, +and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it being Sunday afternoon, +to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as they returned +from their devotions. + +They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return +to the inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, +when Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from +the church. Such an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally +attracted the young soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little +cavalcade passed, almost involuntarily pulled off their hats. +A tall, elegant girl looked at Montraville and blushed: +he instantly recollected the features of Charlotte Temple, +whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at Portsmouth. +At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child, +she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made +in her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her +cheeks as she passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas. +Vanity led him to think that pleasure at again beholding him might +have occasioned the emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity +led him to wish to see her again. + +"She is the sweetest girl in the world," said he, as he entered the inn. +Belcour stared. "Did you not notice her?" continued Montraville: +"she had on a blue bonnet, and with a pair of lovely eyes +of the same colour, has contrived to make me feel devilish odd +about the heart." + +"Pho," said Belcour, "a musket ball from our friends, the Americans, +may in less than two months make you feel worse." + +"I never think of the future," replied Montraville; "but am +determined to make the most of the present, and would willingly +compound with any kind Familiar who would inform me who the girl is, +and how I might be likely to obtain an interview. " + +But no kind Familiar at that time appearing, and the chaise which they +had ordered, driving up to the door, Montraville and his companion +were obliged to take leave of Chichester and its fair inhabitant, +and proceed on their journey. + +But Charlotte had made too great an impression on his mind +to be easily eradicated: having therefore spent three whole +days in thinking on her and in endeavouring to form some plan +for seeing her, he determined to set off for Chichester, +and trust to chance either to favour or frustrate his designs. +Arriving at the verge of the town, he dismounted, and sending +the servant forward with the horses, proceeded toward +the place, where, in the midst of an extensive pleasure ground, +stood the mansion which contained the lovely Charlotte Temple. +Montraville leaned on a broken gate, and looked earnestly at the house. +The wall which surrounded it was high, and perhaps the Argus's +who guarded the Hesperian fruit within, were more watchful than +those famed of old. + +"'Tis a romantic attempt," said he; "and should I even succeed +in seeing and conversing with her, it can be productive of no good: +I must of necessity leave England in a few days, and probably +may never return; why then should I endeavour to engage +the affections of this lovely girl, only to leave her a prey +to a thousand inquietudes, of which at present she has no idea? +I will return to Portsmouth and think no more about her." + +The evening now was closed; a serene stillness reigned; +and the chaste Queen of Night with her silver crescent faintly +illuminated the hemisphere. The mind of Montraville was hushed +into composure by the serenity of the surrounding objects. +"I will think on her no more," said he, and turned with an intention +to leave the place; but as he turned, he saw the gate which led +to the pleasure grounds open, and two women come out, who walked +arm-in-arm across the field. + +"I will at least see who these are," said he. He overtook them, +and giving them the compliments of the evening, begged leave +to see them into the more frequented parts of the town: +but how was he delighted, when, waiting for an answer, he discovered, +under the concealment of a large bonnet, the face of Charlotte Temple. + +He soon found means to ingratiate himself with her companion, +who was a French teacher at the school, and, at parting, +slipped a letter he had purposely written, into Charlotte's hand, +and five guineas into that of Mademoiselle, who promised she +would endeavour to bring her young charge into the field again +the next evening. + + CHAPTER II. + + DOMESTIC CONCERNS. + +MR.Temple was the youngest son of a nobleman whose fortune was by no means +adequate to the antiquity, grandeur, and I may add, pride of the family. +He saw his elder brother made completely wretched by marrying +a disagreeable woman, whose fortune helped to prop the sinking dignity +of the house; and he beheld his sisters legally prostituted to old, +decrepid men, whose titles gave them consequence in the eyes of +the world, and whose affluence rendered them splendidly miserable. +"I will not sacrifice internal happiness for outward shew," said he: +"I will seek Content; and, if I find her in a cottage, will embrace +her with as much cordiality as I should if seated on a throne." + +Mr. Temple possessed a small estate of about five hundred pounds +a year; and with that he resolved to preserve independence, +to marry where the feelings of his heart should direct him, +and to confine his expenses within the limits of his income. +He had a heart open to every generous feeling of humanity, +and a hand ready to dispense to those who wanted part of the blessings +he enjoyed himself. + +As he was universally known to be the friend of the unfortunate, +his advice and bounty was frequently solicited; nor was it seldom +that he sought out indigent merit, and raised it from obscurity, +confining his own expenses within a very narrow compass. + +"You are a benevolent fellow," said a young officer to him one day; +"and I have a great mind to give you a fine subject to exercise +the goodness of your heart upon." + +"You cannot oblige me more," said Temple, "than to point out any way +by which I can be serviceable to my fellow creatures." + +"Come along then," said the young man, "we will go and visit a man +who is not in so good a lodging as he deserves; and, were it +not that he has an angel with him, who comforts and supports him, +he must long since have sunk under his misfortunes." +The young man's heart was too full to proceed; and Temple, +unwilling to irritate his feelings by making further enquiries, +followed him in silence, til they arrived at the Fleet prison. + +The officer enquired for Captain Eldridge: a person led them up several +pair of dirty stairs, and pointing to a door which led to a miserable, +small apartment, said that was the Captain's room, and retired. + +The officer, whose name was Blakeney, tapped at the door, +and was bid to enter by a voice melodiously soft. He opened +the door, and discovered to Temple a scene which rivetted him +to the spot with astonishment. + +The apartment, though small, and bearing strong marks of poverty, +was neat in the extreme. In an arm-chair, his head reclined upon +his hand, his eyes fixed on a book which lay open before him, +sat an aged man in a Lieutenant's uniform, which, though threadbare, +would sooner call a blush of shame into the face of those who could +neglect real merit, than cause the hectic of confusion to glow +on the cheeks of him who wore it. + +Beside him sat a lovely creature busied in painting a fan mount. +She was fair as the lily, but sorrow had nipped the rose in her +cheek before it was half blown. Her eyes were blue; and her hair, +which was light brown, was slightly confined under a plain +muslin cap, tied round with a black ribbon; a white linen gown +and plain lawn handkerchief composed the remainder of her dress; +and in this simple attire, she was more irresistibly charming +to such a heart as Temple's, than she would have been, if adorned +with all the splendor of a courtly belle. + +When they entered, the old man arose from his seat, and shaking +Blakeney by the hand with great cordiality, offered Temple his chair; +and there being but three in the room, seated himself on the side +of his little bed with evident composure. + +"This is a strange place," said he to Temple, "to receive visitors +of distinction in; but we must fit our feelings to our station. +While I am not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, +why should I blush at my situation? Our misfortunes are not our faults; +and were it not for that poor girl--" + +Here the philosopher was lost in the father. He rose hastily +from his seat, and walking toward the window, wiped off a tear +which he was afraid would tarnish the cheek of a sailor. + +Temple cast his eye on Miss Eldridge: a pellucid drop had +stolen from her eyes, and fallen upon a rose she was painting. +It blotted and discoloured the flower. " 'Tis emblematic," +said he mentally: "the rose of youth and health soon fades when +watered by the tear of affliction." + +"My friend Blakeney," said he, addressing the old man, "told me I +could be of service to you: be so kind then, dear Sir, as to point +out some way in which I can relieve the anxiety of your heart +and increase the pleasures of my own." + +"My good young man," said Eldridge, "you know not what you offer. +While deprived of my liberty I cannot be free from anxiety +on my own account; but that is a trifling concern; my anxious +thoughts extend to one more dear a thousand times than life: +I am a poor weak old man, and must expect in a few years to sink +into silence and oblivion; but when I am gone, who will protect +that fair bud of innocence from the blasts of adversity, or from +the cruel hand of insult and dishonour. " + +"Oh, my father!" cried Miss Eldridge, tenderly taking his hand, +"be not anxious on that account; for daily are my prayers offered +to heaven that our lives may terminate at the same instant, +and one grave receive us both; for why should I live when deprived +of my only friend." + +Temple was moved even to tears. "You will both live many years," +said he, "and I hope see much happiness. Cheerly, my friend, cheerly; +these passing clouds of adversity will serve only to make +the sunshine of prosperity more pleasing. But we are losing time: +you might ere this have told me who were your creditors, what were +their demands, and other particulars necessary to your liberation." + +"My story is short," said Mr. Eldridge, "but there are some particulars +which will wring my heart barely to remember; yet to one whose +offers of friendship appear so open and disinterested, I will relate +every circumstance that led to my present, painful situation. +But my child," continued he, addressing his daughter, "let me prevail +on you to take this opportunity, while my friends are with me, +to enjoy the benefit of air and exercise. + +Go, my love; leave me now; to-morrow at your usual hour I will +expect you. " + +Miss Eldridge impressed on his cheek the kiss of filial +affection, and obeyed. + + CHAPTER III. + + UNEXPECTED MISFORTUNES. + +"MY life," said Mr. Eldridge, "till within these few years was marked +by no particular circumstance deserving notice. I early embraced +the life of a sailor, and have served my King with unremitted ardour +for many years. At the age of twenty-five I married an amiable woman; +one son, and the girl who just now left us, were the fruits of our union. +My boy had genius and spirit. I straitened my little income +to give him a liberal education, but the rapid progress he made +in his studies amply compensated for the inconvenience. +At the academy where he received his education he commenced an +acquaintance with a Mr. Lewis, a young man of affluent fortune: +as they grew up their intimacy ripened into friendship, and they +became almost inseparable companions. + +"George chose the profession of a soldier. I had neither friends +or money to procure him a commission, and had wished him to embrace +a nautical life: but this was repugnant to his wishes, and I ceased +to urge him on the subject. + +"The friendship subsisting between Lewis and my son was of such +a nature as gave him free access to our family; and so specious +was his manner that we hesitated not to state to him all our +little difficulties in regard to George's future views. +He listened to us with attention, and offered to advance any sum +necessary for his first setting out. + +"I embraced the offer, and gave him my note for the payment of it, +but he would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time, +as he said I might do it whenever most convenient to myself. +About this time my dear Lucy returned from school, and I soon +began to imagine Lewis looked at her with eyes of affection. +I gave my child a caution to beware of him, and to look on her mother +as her fe,,end. She was unaffectedly artless; and when, as I suspected, +Lewis made professions of love, she confided in her parents, +and assured us her heart was perfectly unbiassed in his favour, +and she would chearfully submit to our direction. + +"I took an early opportunity of questioning him concerning +his intentions towards my child: he gave an equivocal answer, +and I forbade him the house. + +"The next day he sent and demanded payment of his money. +It was not in my power to comply with the demand. I requested three +days to endeavour to raise it, determining in that time to mortgage +my half pay, and live on a small annuity which my wife possessed, +rather than be under an obligation to so worthless a man: +but this short time was not allowed me; for that evening, as I was +sitting down to supper, unsuspicious of danger, an officer entered, +and tore me from the embraces of my family. + +"My wife had been for some time in a declining state of health: +ruin at once so unexpected and inevitable was a stroke she was not +prepared to bear, and I saw her faint into the arms of our servant, +as I left my own habitation for the comfortless walls of a prison. +My poor Lucy, distracted with her fears for us both, sunk on the floor +and endeavoured to detain me by her feeble efforts, but in vain; +they forced open her arms; she shrieked, and fell prostrate. +But pardon me. The horrors of that night unman me. +I cannot proceed." + +He rose from his seat, and walked several times across the room: +at length, attaining more composure, he cried--"What a mere +infant I am! Why, Sir, I never felt thus in the day of battle." +"No," said Temple; "but the truly brave soul is tremblingly alive +to the feelings of humanity." + +"True," replied the old man, (something like satisfaction darting +across his features) "and painful as these feelings are, I would not +exchange them for that torpor which the stoic mistakes for philosophy. +How many exquisite delights should I have passed by unnoticed, +but for these keen sensations, this quick sense of happiness or misery? +Then let us, my friend, take the cup of life as it is presented to us, +tempered by the hand of a wise Providence; be thankful for the good, +be patient under the evil, and presume not to enquire why +the latter predominates." + +"This is true philosophy," said Temple. + +"'Tis the only way to reconcile ourselves to the cross events of life," +replied he. "But I forget myself. I will not longer intrude on +your patience, but proceed in my melancholy tale. + +"The very evening that I was taken to prison, my son arrived +from Ireland, where he had been some time with his regiment. +From the distracted expressions of his mother and sister, he learnt +by whom I had been arrested; and, late as it was, flew on the wings +of wounded affection, to the house of his false friend, and earnestly +enquired the cause of this cruel conduct. With all the calmness +of a cool deliberate villain, he avowed his passion for Lucy; +declared her situation in life would not permit him to marry her; +but offered to release me immediately, and make any settlement on her, +if George would persuade her to live, as he impiously termed it, +a life of honour. + +"Fired at the insult offered to a man and a soldier, my boy struck +the villain, and a challenge ensued. He then went to a coffee-house +in the neighbourhood and wrote a long affectionate letter to me, +blaming himself severely for having introduced Lewis into the family, +or permitted him to confer an obligation, which had brought +inevitable ruin on us all. He begged me, whatever might be the event +of the ensuing morning, not to suffer regret or unavailing sorrow +for his fate, to encrease the anguish of my heart, which he greatly +feared was already insupportable. + +"This letter was delivered to me early in the morning. +It would be vain to attempt describing my feelings on the perusal +of it; suffice it to say, that a merciful Providence interposed, +and I was for three weeks insensible to miseries almost beyond +the strength of human nature to support. + +"A fever and strong delirium seized me, and my life was despaired of. +At length, nature, overpowered with fatigue, gave way to the salutary +power of rest, and a quiet slumber of some hours restored me to reason, +though the extreme weakness of my frame prevented my feeling my +distress so acutely as I otherways should. + +"The first object that struck me on awaking, was Lucy sitting +by my bedside; her pale countenance and sable dress prevented +my enquiries for poor George: for the letter I had received +from him, was the first thing that occurred to my memory. +By degrees the rest returned: I recollected being arrested, +but could no ways account for being in this apartment, whither they +had conveyed me during my illness. + +"I was so weak as to be almost unable to speak. I pressed +Lucy's hand, and looked earnestly round the apartment in search +of another dear object. + +"Where is your mother?" said I, faintly. + +"The poor girl could not answer: she shook her head in expressive silence; +and throwing herself on the bed, folded her arms about me, +and burst into tears. + +"What! both gone?" said I. + +"Both," she replied, endeavouring to restrain her emotions: +"but they are happy, no doubt." + +Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection of the scene was too +painful to permit him to proceed. + +CHAPTER IV. + + CHANGE OF FORTUNE. + +"IT was some days," continued Mr. Eldridge, recovering himself, +"before I could venture to enquire the particulars of what had +happened during my illness: at length I assumed courage to ask +my dear girl how long her mother and brother had been dead: +she told me, that the morning after my arrest, George came home early +to enquire after his mother's health, staid with them but a few minutes, +seemed greatly agitated at parting, but gave them strict charge to keep +up their spirits, and hope every thing would turn out for the best. +In about two hours after, as they were sitting at breakfast, +and endeavouring to strike out some plan to attain my liberty, +they heard a loud rap at the door, which Lucy running to open, +she met the bleeding body of her brother, borne in by two men +who had lifted him from a litter, on which they had brought him +from the place where he fought. Her poor mother, weakened by illness +and the struggles of the preceding night, was not able to support +this shock; gasping for breath, her looks wild and haggard, +she reached the apartment where they had carried her dying son. +She knelt by the bed side; and taking his cold hand, +'my poor boy,' said she, 'I will not be parted from thee: +husband! son! both at once lost. Father of mercies, spare me!' +She fell into a strong convulsion, and expired in about two hours. +In the mean time, a surgeon had dressed George's wounds; but they +were in such a situation as to bar the smallest hopes of recovery. +He never was sensible from the time he was brought home, and died +that evening in the arms of his sister. + +"Late as it was when this event took place, my affectionate Lucy +insisted on coming to me. 'What must he feel,' said she, 'at our +apparent neglect, and how shall I inform him of the afflictions +with which it has pleased heaven to visit us?' + +"She left the care of the dear departed ones to some neighbours who had +kindly come in to comfort and assist her; and on entering the house +where I was confined, found me in the situation I have mentioned. + +"How she supported herself in these trying moments, I know not: +heaven, no doubt, was with her; and her anxiety to preserve the life +of one parent in some measure abated her affliction for the loss +of the other. + +"My circumstances were greatly embarrassed, my acquaintance few, +and those few utterly unable to assist me. When my wife and son +were committed to their kindred earth, my creditors seized my house +and furniture, which not being sufficient to discharge all their demands, +detainers were lodged against me. No friend stepped forward to my relief; +from the grave of her mother, my beloved Lucy followed an almost +dying father to this melancholy place. + +"Here we have been nearly a year and a half. My half-pay I have given +up to satisfy my creditors, and my child supports me by her industry: +sometimes by fine needlework, sometimes by painting. +She leaves me every night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge; +but returns in the morning, to chear me with her smiles, +and bless me by her duteous affection. A lady once offered +her an asylum in her family; but she would not leave me. +'We are all the world to each other,' said she. 'I thank God, +I have health and spirits to improve the talents with which nature +has endowed me; and I trust if I employ them in the support of a +beloved parent, I shall not be thought an unprofitable servant. +While he lives, I pray for strength to pursue my employment; +and when it pleases heaven to take one of us, may it give +the survivor resignation to bear the separation as we ought: +till then I will never leave him.' " + +"But where is this inhuman persecutor?" said Temple. + +"He has been abroad ever since," replied the old man; "but he has +left orders with his lawyer never to give up the note till the utmost +farthing is paid." + +"And how much is the amount of your debts in all?" said Temple. + +"Five hundred pounds," he replied. + +Temple started: it was more than he expected. "But something +must be done," said he: "that sweet maid must not wear out her +life in a prison. I will see you again to-morrow, my friend," +said he, shaking Eldridge's hand: "keep up your spirits: +light and shade are not more happily blended than are the pleasures +and pains of life; and the horrors of the one serve only to increase +the splendor of the other." + +"You never lost a wife and son," said Eldridge. + +"No," replied he, "but I can feel for those that have." +Eldridge pressed his hand as they went toward the door, and they +parted in silence. + +When they got without the walls of the prison, Temple thanked +his friend Blakeney for introducing him to so worthy a character; +and telling him he had a particular engagement in the city, +wished him a good evening. + +"And what is to be done for this distressed man," said Temple, +as he walked up Ludgate Hill. "Would to heaven I had a fortune +that would enable me instantly to discharge his debt: +what exquisite transport, to see the expressive eyes of Lucy +beaming at once with pleasure for her father's deliverance, +and gratitude for her deliverer: but is not my fortune affluence," +continued he, "nay superfluous wealth, when compared to the extreme +indigence of Eldridge; and what have I done to deserve ease +and plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? +Three hundred a year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes: +at any rate Eldridge must be relieved." + +When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute +a good action. + +Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; +unacquainted with the world, his heart had not been rendered +callous by being convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy. +He pitied their sufferings, overlooked their faults, thought every +bosom as generous as his own, and would chearfully have divided +his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow creature. + +No wonder, then, that such a man (without waiting a moment +for the interference of Madam Prudence) should resolve to raise +money sufficient for the relief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part +of his fortune. + +We will not enquire too minutely into the cause which might actuate +him in this instance: suffice it to say, he immediately put +the plan in execution; and in three days from the time he first saw +the unfortunate Lieutenant, he had the superlative felicity of seeing +him at liberty, and receiving an ample reward in the tearful eye +and half articulated thanks of the grateful Lucy. + +"And pray, young man," said his father to him one morning, +"what are your designs in visiting thus constantly that old man +and his daughter?" + +Temple was at a loss for a reply: he had never asked himself +the question: he hesitated; and his father continued-- + +"It was not till within these few days that I heard in what manner your +acquaintance first commenced, and cannot suppose any thing but attachment +to the daughter could carry you such imprudent lengths for the father: +it certainly must be her art that drew you in to mortgage part +of your fortune." + +"Art, Sir!" cried Temple eagerly. "Lucy Eldridge is as free from +art as she is from every other error: she is--" + +"Everything that is amiable and lovely," said his father, +interrupting him ironically: "no doubt in your opinion she +is a pattern of excellence for all her sex to follow; but come, +Sir, pray tell me what are your designs towards this paragon. +I hope you do not intend to complete your folly by marrying her." + +"Were my fortune such as would support her according to her merit, +I don't know a woman more formed to insure happiness in +the married state." + +"Then prithee, my dear lad," said his father, "since your rank +and fortune are so much beneath what your PRINCESS might expect, +be so kind as to turn your eyes on Miss Weatherby; who, having only +an estate of three thousand a year, is more upon a level with you, +and whose father yesterday solicited the mighty honour of your alliance. +I shall leave you to consider on this offer; and pray remember, +that your union with Miss Weatherby will put it in your power +to be more liberally the friend of Lucy Eldridge. " + +The old gentleman walked in a stately manner out of the room; +and Temple stood almost petrified with astonishment, contempt, and rage. + + CHAPTER V. + + SUCH THINGS ARE. + +MISS Weatherby was the only child of a wealthy man, almost idolized +by her parents, flattered by her dependants, and never +contradicted even by those who called themselves her friends: +I cannot give a better description than by the following lines. + + The lovely maid whose form and face + Nature has deck'd with ev'ry grace, + But in whose breast no virtues glow, + Whose heart ne'er felt another's woe, + Whose hand ne'er smooth'd the bed of pain, + Or eas'd the captive's galling chain; + But like the tulip caught the eye, + Born just to be admir'd and die; + When gone, no one regrets its loss, + Or scarce remembers that it was. + +Such was Miss Weatherby: her form lovely as nature could make it, +but her mind uncultivated, her heart unfeeling, her passions impetuous, +and her brain almost turned with flattery, dissipation, and pleasure; +and such was the girl, whom a partial grandfather left independent +mistress of the fortune before mentioned. + +She had seen Temple frequently; and fancying she could never be happy +without him, nor once imagining he could refuse a girl of her beauty +and fortune, she prevailed on her fond father to offer the alliance +to the old Earl of D----, Mr. Temple's father. + +The Earl had received the offer courteously: he thought it a great +match for Henry; and was too fashionable a man to suppose a wife +could be any impediment to the friendship he professed for Eldridge +and his daughter. + +Unfortunately for Temple, he thought quite otherwise: +the conversation he had just had with his father, discovered to him +the situation of his heart; and he found that the most affluent +fortune would bring no increase of happiness unless Lucy Eldridge +shared it with him; and the knowledge of the purity of her sentiments, +and the integrity of his own heart, made him shudder at the idea +his father had started, of marrying a woman for no other reason than +because the affluence of her fortune would enable him to injure her +by maintaining in splendor the woman to whom his heart was devoted: +he therefore resolved to refuse Miss Weatherby, and be the event +what it might, offer his heart and hand to Lucy Eldridge. + +Full of this determination, he fought his father, declared his resolution, +and was commanded never more to appear in his presence. +Temple bowed; his heart was too full to permit him to speak; +he left the house precipitately, and hastened to relate the cause +of his sorrows to his good old friend and his amiable daughter. + +In the mean time, the Earl, vexed to the soul that such a fortune +should be lost, determined to offer himself a candidate for +Miss Weatherby's favour. + +What wonderful changes are wrought by that reigning power, +ambition! the love-sick girl, when first she heard of Temple's refusal, +wept, raved, tore her hair, and vowed to found a protestant nunnery +with her fortune; and by commencing abbess, shut herself up from +the sight of cruel ungrateful man for ever. + +Her father was a man of the world: he suffered this first transport +to subside, and then very deliberately unfolded to her the offers +of the old Earl, expatiated on the many benefits arising from an +elevated title, painted in glowing colours the surprise and vexation +of Temple when he should see her figuring as a Countess and his +mother-in-law, and begged her to consider well before she made +any rash vows. + +The DISTRESSED fair one dried her tears, listened patiently, +and at length declared she believed the surest method to revenge +the slight put on her by the son, would be to accept the father: +so said so done, and in a few days she became the Countess D----. + +Temple heard the news with emotion: he had lost his father's favour +by avowing his passion for Lucy, and he saw now there was no hope +of regaining it: "but he shall not make me miserable," said he. +"Lucy and I have no ambitious notions: we can live on three hundred +a year for some little time, till the mortgage is paid off, and then we +shall have sufficient not only for the comforts but many of the little +elegancies of life. We will purchase a little cottage, my Lucy," +said he, "and thither with your reverend father we will retire; we will +forget there are such things as splendor, profusion, and dissipation: +we will have some cows, and you shall be queen of the dairy; +in a morning, while I look after my garden, you shall take a basket +on your arm, and sally forth to feed your poultry; and as they +flutter round you in token of humble gratitude, your father shall +smoke his pipe in a woodbine alcove, and viewing the serenity +of your countenance, feel such real pleasure dilate his own heart, +as shall make him forget he had ever been unhappy." + +Lucy smiled; and Temple saw it was a smile of approbation. +He sought and found a cottage suited to his taste; thither, attended by +Love and Hymen, the happy trio retired; where, during many years +of uninterrupted felicity, they cast not a wish beyond the little +boundaries of their own tenement. Plenty, and her handmaid, +Prudence, presided at their board, Hospitality stood at their gate, +Peace smiled on each face, Content reigned in each heart, and Love +and Health strewed roses on their pillows. + +Such were the parents of Charlotte Temple, who was the only pledge +of their mutual love, and who, at the earnest entreaty of a +particular friend, was permitted to finish the education her mother +had begun, at Madame Du Pont's school, where we first introduced +her to the acquaintance of the reader. + + CHAPTER VI. + + AN INTRIGUING TEACHER. + +MADAME Du Pont was a woman every way calculated to take the care +of young ladies, had that care entirely devolved on herself; +but it was impossible to attend the education of a numerous school +without proper assistants; and those assistants were not always +the kind of people whose conversation and morals were exactly such +as parents of delicacy and refinement would wish a daughter to copy. +Among the teachers at Madame Du Pont's school, was Mademoiselle +La Rue, who added to a pleasing person and insinuating address, +a liberal education and the manners of a gentlewoman. +She was recommended to the school by a lady whose humanity overstepped +the bounds of discretion: for though she knew Miss La Rue had eloped +from a convent with a young officer, and, on coming to England, +had lived with several different men in open defiance of all moral +and religious duties; yet, finding her reduced to the most abject want, +and believing the penitence which she professed to be sincere, +she took her into her own family, and from thence recommended +her to Madame Du Pont, as thinking the situation more suitable +for a woman of her abilities. But Mademoiselle possessed too much +of the spirit of intrigue to remain long without adventures. +At church, where she constantly appeared, her person attracted +the attention of a young man who was upon a visit at a gentleman's seat +in the neighbourhood: she had met him several times clandestinely; +and being invited to come out that evening, and eat some fruit and +pastry in a summer-house belonging to the gentleman he was visiting, +and requested to bring some of the ladies with her, Charlotte being +her favourite, was fixed on to accompany her. + +The mind of youth eagerly catches at promised pleasure: +pure and innocent by nature, it thinks not of the dangers +lurking beneath those pleasures, till too late to avoid them: +when Mademoiselle asked Charlotte to go with her, she mentioned +the gentleman as a relation, and spoke in such high terms of +the elegance of his gardens, the sprightliness of his conversation, +and the liberality with which he ever entertained his guests, +that Charlotte thought only of the pleasure she should enjoy in the visit,-- +not on the imprudence of going without her governess's knowledge, +or of the danger to which she exposed herself in visiting the house +of a gay young man of fashion. + +Madame Du Pont was gone out for the evening, and the rest of the ladies +retired to rest, when Charlotte and the teacher stole out at the +back gate, and in crossing the field, were accosted by Montraville, +as mentioned in the first chapter. + +Charlotte was disappointed in the pleasure she had promised herself +from this visit. The levity of the gentlemen and the freedom of their +conversation disgusted her. She was astonished at the liberties +Mademoiselle permitted them to take; grew thoughtful and uneasy, +and heartily wished herself at home again in her own chamber. + +Perhaps one cause of that wish might be, an earnest desire +to see the contents of the letter which had been put into her +hand by Montraville. + +Any reader who has the least knowledge of the world, will easily +imagine the letter was made up of encomiums on her beauty, and vows +of everlasting love and constancy; nor will he be surprised that a +heart open to every gentle, generous sentiment, should feel itself +warmed by gratitude for a man who professed to feel so much for her; +nor is it improbable but her mind might revert to the agreeable +person and martial appearance of Montraville. + +In affairs of love, a young heart is never in more danger than +when attempted by a handsome young soldier. A man of an indifferent +appearance, will, when arrayed in a military habit, shew to advantage; +but when beauty of person, elegance of manner, and an easy method +of paying compliments, are united to the scarlet coat, smart cockade, +and military sash, ah! well-a-day for the poor girl who gazes on him: +she is in imminent danger; but if she listens to him with pleasure, +'tis all over with her, and from that moment she has neither eyes +nor ears for any other object. + +Now, my dear sober matron, (if a sober matron should deign +to turn over these pages, before she trusts them to the eye of a +darling daughter,) let me intreat you not to put on a grave face, +and throw down the book in a passion and declare 'tis enough to turn +the heads of half the girls in England; I do solemnly protest, +my dear madam, I mean no more by what I have here advanced, +than to ridicule those romantic girls, who foolishly imagine +a red coat and silver epaulet constitute the fine gentleman; +and should that fine gentleman make half a dozen fine speeches +to them, they will imagine themselves so much in love as to fancy +it a meritorious action to jump out of a two pair of stairs window, +abandon their friends, and trust entirely to the honour of a man, +who perhaps hardly knows the meaning of the word, and if he does, +will be too much the modern man of refinement, to practice it +in their favour. + +Gracious heaven! when I think on the miseries that must rend the heart +of a doating parent, when he sees the darling of his age at first +seduced from his protection, and afterwards abandoned, by the very +wretch whose promises of love decoyed her from the paternal roof-- +when he sees her poor and wretched, her bosom tom between remorse +for her crime and love for her vile betrayer--when fancy paints to me +the good old man stooping to raise the weeping penitent, while every +tear from her eye is numbered by drops from his bleeding heart, +my bosom glows with honest indignation, and I wish for power +to extirpate those monsters of seduction from the earth. + +Oh my dear girls--for to such only am I writing--listen not to +the voice of love, unless sanctioned by paternal approbation: +be assured, it is now past the days of romance: +no woman can be run away with contrary to her own inclination: +then kneel down each morning, and request kind heaven to keep you +free from temptation, or, should it please to suffer you to be tried, +pray for fortitude to resist the impulse of inclination when it +runs counter to the precepts of religion and virtue. + + CHAPTER VII. + + NATURAL SENSE OF PROPRIETY + INHERENT IN THE FEMALE BOSOM. + +"I CANNOT think we have done exactly right in going out +this evening, Mademoiselle," said Charlotte, seating herself +when she entered her apartment: "nay, I am sure it was not right; +for I expected to be very happy, but was sadly disappointed." + +"It was your own fault, then," replied Mademoiselle: +"for I am sure my cousin omitted nothing that could serve to render +the evening agreeable." + +"True," said Charlotte: "but I thought the gentlemen were very +free in their manner: I wonder you would suffer them to behave +as they did." + +"Prithee, don't be such a foolish little prude," said the artful woman, +affecting anger: "I invited you to go in hopes it would divert you, +and be an agreeable change of scene; however, if your delicacy +was hurt by the behaviour of the gentlemen, you need not go again; +so there let it rest. " + +"I do not intend to go again," said Charlotte, gravely taking off +her bonnet, and beginning to prepare for bed: "I am sure, if Madame +Du Pont knew we had been out to-night, she would be very angry; +and it is ten to one but she hears of it by some means or other." + +"Nay, Miss," said La Rue, "perhaps your mighty sense of propriety may +lead you to tell her yourself: and in order to avoid the censure you +would incur, should she hear of it by accident, throw the blame on me: +but I confess I deserve it: it will be a very kind return for +that partiality which led me to prefer you before any of the rest +of the ladies; but perhaps it will give you pleasure," continued she, +letting fall some hypocritical tears, "to see me deprived of bread, +and for an action which by the most rigid could only be esteemed +an inadvertency, lose my place and character, and be driven again +into the world, where I have already suffered all the evils attendant +on poverty. " + +This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnerable part: +she rose from her seat, and taking Mademoiselle's hand--"You know, +my dear La Rue," said she, "I love you too well, to do anything +that would injure you in my governess's opinion: I am only sorry +we went out this evening." + +"I don't believe it, Charlotte," said she, assuming a little vivacity; +"for if you had not gone out, you would not have seen the gentleman +who met us crossing the field; and I rather think you were pleased +with his conversation." + +"I had seen him once before," replied Charlotte, "and thought +him an agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see +a person with whom one has passed several chearful hours. +"But," said she pausing, and drawing the letter from her pocket, +while a gentle suffusion of vermillion tinged her neck and face, +"he gave me this letter; what shall I do with it?" + +"Read it, to be sure," returned Mademoiselle. + +"I am afraid I ought not," said Charlotte: "my mother has often +told me, I should never read a letter given me by a young man, +without first giving it to her. " + +"Lord bless you, my dear girl," cried the teacher smiling, +"have you a mind to be in leading strings all your life time. +Prithee open the letter, read it, and judge for yourself; if you +show it your mother, the consequence will be, you will be taken +from school, and a strict guard kept over you; so you will stand +no chance of ever seeing the smart young officer again." + +"I should not like to leave school yet," replied Charlotte, +"till I have attained a greater proficiency in my Italian and music. +But you can, if you please, Mademoiselle, take the letter back +to Montraville, and tell him I wish him well, but cannot, +with any propriety, enter into a clandestine correspondence with him." +She laid the letter on the table, and began to undress herself. + +"Well," said La Rue, "I vow you are an unaccountable girl: +have you no curiosity to see the inside now? for my part I could +no more let a letter addressed to me lie unopened so long, +than I could work miracles: he writes a good hand," continued she, +turning the letter, to look at the superscription. + +"'Tis well enough," said Charlotte, drawing it towards her. + +"He is a genteel young fellow," said La Rue carelessly, +folding up her apron at the same time; "but I think he is marked +with the small pox." + +"Oh you are greatly mistaken," said Charlotte eagerly; "he has +a remarkable clear skin and fine complexion." + +"His eyes, if I could judge by what I saw," said La Rue, "are grey +and want expression." + +"By no means," replied Charlotte; "they are the most expressive +eyes I ever saw." "Well, child, whether they are grey or black +is of no consequence: you have determined not to read his letter; +so it is likely you will never either see or hear from him again." + +Charlotte took up the letter, and Mademoiselle continued-- + +"He is most probably going to America; and if ever you should hear +any account of him, it may possibly be that he is killed; and though +he loved you ever so fervently, though his last breath should be +spent in a prayer for your happiness, it can be nothing to you: +you can feel nothing for the fate of the man, whose letters you +will not open, and whose sufferings you will not alleviate, +by permitting him to think you would remember him when absent, +and pray for his safety." + +Charlotte still held the letter in her hand: her heart swelled +at the conclusion of Mademoiselle's speech, and a tear dropped upon +the wafer that closed it. + +"The wafer is not dry yet," said she, "and sure there can +be no great harm--" She hesitated. La Rue was silent. +"I may read it, Mademoiselle, and return it afterwards." + +"Certainly," replied Mademoiselle. + +"At any rate I am determined not to answer it," continued Charlotte, +as she opened the letter. + +Here let me stop to make one remark, and trust me my very heart +aches while I write it; but certain I am, that when once a woman +has stifled the sense of shame in her own bosom, when once she has +lost sight of the basis on which reputation, honour, every thing +that should be dear to the female heart, rests, she grows hardened +in guilt, and will spare no pains to bring down innocence and beauty +to the shocking level with herself: and this proceeds from that +diabolical spirit of envy, which repines at seeing another in the full +possession of that respect and esteem which she can no longer +hope to enjoy. + +Mademoiselle eyed the unsuspecting Charlotte, as she perused the letter, +with a malignant pleasure. She saw, that the contents had awakened +new emotions in her youthful bosom: she encouraged her hopes, +calmed her fears, and before they parted for the night, it was +determined that she should meet Montraville the ensuing evening. + + CHAPTER VIII. + + DOMESTIC PLEASURES PLANNED. + +"I THINK, my dear," said Mrs. Temple, laying her hand on her +husband's arm as they were walking together in the garden, +"I think next Wednesday is Charlotte's birth day: now I have formed +a little scheme in my own mind, to give her an agreeable surprise; +and if you have no objection, we will send for her home on that day." +Temple pressed his wife's hand in token of approbation, and she +proceeded.--"You know the little alcove at the bottom of the garden, +of which Charlotte is so fond? I have an inclination to deck +this out in a fanciful manner, and invite all her little friends +to partake of a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, and other things +suitable to the general taste of young guests; and to make it +more pleasing to Charlotte, she shall be mistress of the feast, +and entertain her visitors in this alcove. I know she will +be delighted; and to complete all, they shall have some music, +and finish with a dance. " + +"A very fine plan, indeed," said Temple, smiling; "and you really +suppose I will wink at your indulging the girl in this manner? +You will quite spoil her, Lucy; indeed you will. " + +"She is the only child we have," said Mrs. Temple, the whole +tenderness of a mother adding animation to her fine countenance; +but it was withal tempered so sweetly with the meek affection +and submissive duty of the wife, that as she paused expecting her +husband's answer, he gazed at her tenderly, and found he was unable +to refuse her request. + +"She is a good girl," said Temple. + +"She is, indeed," replied the fond mother exultingly, "a grateful, +affectionate girl; and I am sure will never lose sight of the duty +she owes her parents." + +"If she does," said he, 'she must forget the example set her by +the best of mothers." + +Mrs. Temple could not reply; but the delightful sensation that +dilated her heart sparkled in her intelligent eyes and heightened +the vermillion on her cheeks. + +Of all the pleasures of which the human mind is sensible, +there is none equal to that which warms and expands the bosom, +when listening to commendations bestowed on us by a beloved object, +and are conscious of having deserved them. + +Ye giddy flutterers in the fantastic round of dissipation, who eagerly +seek pleasure in the lofty dome, rich treat, and midnight revel-- +tell me, ye thoughtless daughters of folly, have ye ever found +the phantom you have so long sought with such unremitted assiduity? +Has she not always eluded your grasp, and when you have reached +your hand to take the cup she extends to her deluded votaries, +have you not found the long-expected draught strongly tinctured +with the bitter dregs of disappointment? I know you have: +I see it in the wan cheek, sunk eye, and air of chagrin, which ever +mark the children of dissipation. Pleasure is a vain illusion; +she draws you on to a thousand follies, errors, and I may say vices, +and then leaves you to deplore your thoughtless credulity. + +Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white +robe devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, +the modesty of her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, +Conjugal Affection, Industry, and Benevolence; her name is CONTENT; +she holds in her hand the cup of true felicity, and when once you +have formed an intimate acquaintance with these her attendants, +nay you must admit them as your bosom friends and chief counsellors, +then, whatever may be your situation in life, the meek eyed Virgin +wig immediately take up her abode with you. + +Is poverty your portion?--she will lighten your labours, preside at +your frugal board, and watch your quiet slumbers. + +Is your state mediocrity?--she will heighten every blessing you enjoy, +by informing you how grateful you should be to that bountiful +Providence who might have placed you in the most abject situation; +and, by teaching you to weigh your blessings against your deserts, +show you how much more you receive than you have a right to expect. + +Are you possessed of affluence?--what an inexhaustible fund +of happiness will she lay before you! To relieve the distressed, +redress the injured, in short, to perform all the good works +of peace and mercy. + +Content, my dear friends, will blunt even the arrows of adversity, +so that they cannot materially harm you. She will dwell +in the humblest cottage; she will attend you even to a prison. +Her parent is Religion; her sisters, Patience and Hope. +She will pass with you through life, smoothing the rough paths and tread +to earth those thorns which every one must meet with as they journey +onward to the appointed goal. She will soften the pains of sickness, +continue with you even in the cold gloomy hour of death, and, +cheating you with the smiles of her heaven-born sister, Hope, lead you +triumphant to a blissfull eternity. + +I confess I have rambled strangely from my story: but what of +that? if I have been so lucky as to find the road to happiness, +why should I be such a niggard as to omit so good an opportunity +of pointing out the way to others. The very basis of true peace +of mind is a benevolent wish to see all the world as happy +as one's Self; and from my soul do I pity the selfish churl, +who, remembering the little bickerings of anger, envy, and fifty +other disagreeables to which frail mortality is subject, would wish +to revenge the affront which pride whispers him he has received. +For my own part, I can safely declare, there is not a human being +in the universe, whose prosperity I should not rejoice in, and to whose +happiness I would not contribute to the utmost limit of my power: +and may my offences be no more remembered in the day of general +retribution, than as from my soul I forgive every offence or injury +received from a fellow creature. + +Merciful heaven! who would exchange the rapture of such a reflexion +for all the gaudy tinsel which the world calls pleasure! + +But to return.--Content dwelt in Mrs. Temple's bosom, and spread +a charming animation over her countenance, as her husband led her in, +to lay the plan she had formed (for the celebration of Charlotte's +birth day,) before Mr. Eldridge. + + CHAPTER IX. + + WE KNOW NOT WHAT A DAY + MAY BRING FORTH. + +VARIOUS were the sensations which agitated the mind of Charlotte, +during the day preceding the evening in which she was to +meet Montraville. Several times did she almost resolve to go +to her governess, show her the letter, and be guided by her advice: +but Charlotte had taken one step in the ways of imprudence; +and when that is once done, there are always innumerable obstacles +to prevent the erring person returning to the path of rectitude: +yet these obstacles, however forcible they may appear in general, +exist chiefly in imagination. + +Charlotte feared the anger of her governess: she loved her mother, +and the very idea of incurring her displeasure, gave her +the greatest uneasiness: but there was a more forcible reason +still remaining: should she show the letter to Madame Du Pont, +she must confess the means by which it came into her possession; +and what would be the consequence? Mademoiselle would be turned +out of doors. + +"I must not be ungrateful," said she. "La Rue is very kind to me; +besides I can, when I see Montraville, inform him of the impropriety +of our continuing to see or correspond with each other, and request +him to come no more to Chichester." + +However prudent Charlotte might be in these resolutions, she certainly +did not take a proper method to confirm herself in them. Several times +in the course of the day, she indulged herself in reading over the letter, +and each time she read it, the contents sunk deeper in her heart. +As evening drew near, she caught herself frequently consulting her watch. +"I wish this foolish meeting was over," said she, by way of apology +to her own heart, "I wish it was over; for when I have seen him, +and convinced him my resolution is not to be shaken, I shall feel +my mind much easier." + +The appointed hour arrived. Charlotte and Mademoiselle eluded +the eye of vigilance; and Montraville, who had waited their coming +with impatience, received them with rapturous and unbounded +acknowledgments for their condescension: he had wisely brought +Belcour with him to entertain Mademoiselle, while he enjoyed +an uninterrupted conversation with Charlotte. + +Belcour was a man whose character might be comprised in a few words; +and as he will make some figure in the ensuing pages, I shall +here describe him. He possessed a genteel fortune, and had a +liberal education; dissipated, thoughtless, and capricious, he paid +little regard to the moral duties, and less to religious ones: +eager in the pursuit of pleasure, he minded not the miseries +he inflicted on others, provided his own wishes, however extravagant, +were gratified. Self, darling self, was the idol he worshipped, +and to that he would have sacrificed the interest and happiness +of all mankind. Such was the friend of Montraville: +will not the reader be ready to imagine, that the man who could +regard such a character, must be actuated by the same feelings, +follow the same pursuits, and be equally unworthy with the person +to whom he thus gave his confidence? + +But Montraville was a different character: generous in his disposition, +liberal in his opinions, and good-natured almost to a fault; +yet eager and impetuous in the pursuit of a favorite object, +he staid not to reflect on the consequence which might follow +the attainment of his wishes; with a mind ever open to conviction, +had he been so fortunate as to possess a friend who would have pointed +out the cruelty of endeavouring to gain the heart of an innocent +artless girl, when he knew it was utterly impossible for him to marry her, +and when the gratification of his passion would be unavoidable infamy +and misery to her, and a cause of never-ceasing remorse to himself: +had these dreadful consequences been placed before him in a proper light, +the humanity of his nature would have urged him to give up the pursuit: +but Belcour was not this friend; he rather encouraged the growing passion +of Montraville; and being pleased with the vivacity of Mademoiselle, +resolved to leave no argument untried, which he thought might prevail +on her to be the companion of their intended voyage; and he made +no doubt but her example, added to the rhetoric of Montraville, +would persuade Charlotte to go with them. + +Charlotte had, when she went out to meet Montraville, flattered herself +that her resolution was not to be shaken, and that, conscious of +the impropriety of her conduct in having a clandestine intercourse +with a stranger, she would never repeat the indiscretion. + +But alas! poor Charlotte, she knew not the deceitfulness of her +own heart, or she would have avoided the trial of her stability. + +Montraville was tender, eloquent, ardent, and yet respectful. +"Shall I not see you once more," said he, "before I leave England? +will you not bless me by an assurance, that when we are divided +by a vast expanse of sea I shall not be forgotten?" + +Charlotte sighed. + +"Why that sigh, my dear Charlotte? could I flatter myself that +a fear for my safety, or a wish for my welfare occasioned it, +how happy would it make me." + +"I shall ever wish you well, Montraville," said she; "but we must meet +no more." "Oh say not so, my lovely girl: reflect, that when I leave +my native land, perhaps a few short weeks may terminate my existence; +the perils of the ocean--the dangers of war--" + +"I can hear no more," said Charlotte in a tremulous voice. +"I must leave you." + +"Say you will see me once again." + +"I dare not," said she. + +"Only for one half hour to-morrow evening: 'tis my last request. +I shall never trouble you again, Charlotte." + +"I know not what to say," cried Charlotte, struggling to draw her +hands from him: "let me leave you now. " + +"And you will come to-morrow," said Montraville. + +"Perhaps I may," said she. + +"Adieu then. I will live upon that hope till we meet again." + +He kissed her hand. She sighed an adieu, and catching hold +of Mademoiselle's arm, hastily entered the garden gate. + + CHAPTER X. + + WHEN WE HAVE EXCITED + CURIOSITY, IT IS BUT AN ACT OF + GOOD NATURE TO GRATIFY IT. + +MONTRAVILLE was the youngest son of a gentleman of fortune, +whose family being numerous, he was obliged to bring up his sons +to genteel professions, by the exercise of which they might hope +to raise themselves into notice. + +"My daughters," said he, "have been educated like gentlewomen; +and should I die before they are settled, they must have some +provision made, to place them above the snares and temptations +which vice ever holds out to the elegant, accomplished female, +when oppressed by the frowns of poverty and the sting of dependance: +my boys, with only moderate incomes, when placed in the church, at the bar, +or in the field, may exert their talents, make themselves friends, +and raise their fortunes on the basis of merit." + +When Montraville chose the profession of arms, his father +presented him with a commission, and made him a handsome provision +for his private purse. "Now, my boy," said he, 'go! seek glory +in the field of battle. You have received from me all I shall +ever have it in my power to bestow: it is certain I have interest +to gain you promotion; but be assured that interest shall +never be exerted, unless by your future conduct you deserve it. +Remember, therefore, your success in life depends entirely on yourself. +There is one thing I think it my duty to caution you against; +the precipitancy with which young men frequently rush into +matrimonial engagements, and by their thoughtlessness draw +many a deserving woman into scenes of poverty and distress. +A soldier has no business to think of a wife till his rank is such +as to place him above the fear of bringing into the world a train +of helpless innocents, heirs only to penury and affliction. +If, indeed, a woman, whose fortune is sufficient to preserve +you in that state of independence I would teach you to prize, +should generously bestow herself on a young soldier, whose chief +hope of future prosperity depended on his success in the field-- +if such a woman should offer--every barrier is removed, and I +should rejoice in an union which would promise so much felicity. +But mark me, boy, if, on the contrary, you rush into a precipitate +union with a girl of little or no fortune, take the poor creature from +a comfortable home and kind friends, and plunge her into all the evils +a narrow income and increasing family can inflict, I will leave you +to enjoy the blessed fruits of your rashness; for by all that is sacred, +neither my interest or fortune shall ever be exerted in your favour. +I am serious," continued he, "therefore imprint this conversation +on your memory, and let it influence your future conduct. +Your happiness will always be dear to me; and I wish to warn you +of a rock on which the peace of many an honest fellow has been wrecked; +for believe me, the difficulties and dangers of the longest winter +campaign are much easier to be borne, than the pangs that would +seize your heart, when you beheld the woman of your choice, +the children of your affection, involved in penury and distress, +and reflected that it was your own folly and precipitancy had been +the prime cause of their sufferings. " + +As this conversation passed but a few hours before Montraville +took leave of his father, it was deeply impressed on his mind: +when, therefore, Belcour came with him to the place of assignation +with Charlotte, he directed him to enquire of the French woman +what were Miss Temple's expectations in regard to fortune. + +Mademoiselle informed him, that though Charlotte's father possessed +a genteel independence, it was by no means probable that he could +give his daughter more than a thousand pounds; and in case she did +not marry to his liking, it was possible he might not give her +a single SOUS; nor did it appear the least likely, that Mr. Temple +would agree to her union with a young man on the point of embarking +for the feat of war. + +Montraville therefore concluded it was impossible he should ever +marry Charlotte Temple; and what end he proposed to himself +by continuing the acquaintance he had commenced with her, he did +not at that moment give himself time to enquire. + +CHAPTER XI. + + CONFLICT OF LOVE AND DUTY. + +ALMOST a week was now gone, and Charlotte continued every evening +to meet Montraville, and in her heart every meeting was resolved +to be the last; but alas! when Montraville at parting would +earnestly intreat one more interview, that treacherous heart +betrayed her; and, forgetful of its resolution, pleaded the cause +of the enemy so powerfully, that Charlotte was unable to resist. +Another and another meeting succeeded; and so well did Montraville +improve each opportunity, that the heedless girl at length confessed +no idea could be so painful to her as that of never seeing him again. + +"Then we will never be parted," said he. + +"Ah, Montraville," replied Charlotte, forcing a smile, "how can +it be avoided? My parents would never consent to our union; +and even could they be brought to approve it, how should I bear +to be separated from my kind, my beloved mother?" + +"Then you love your parents more than you do me, Charlotte?" + +"I hope I do," said she, blushing and looking down, "I hope +my affection for them will ever keep me from infringing the laws +of filial duty." + +"Well, Charlotte," said Montraville gravely, and letting go +her hand, "since that is the case, I find I have deceived +myself with fallacious hopes. I had flattered my fond heart, +that I was dearer to Charlotte than any thing in the world beside. +I thought that you would for my sake have braved the dangers +of the ocean, that you would, by your affection and smiles, +have softened the hardships of war, and, had it been my fate to fall, +that your tenderness would chear the hour of death, and smooth my passage +to another world. But farewel, Charlotte! I see you never loved me. +I shall now welcome the friendly ball that deprives me of the sense +of my misery." + +"Oh stay, unkind Montraville," cried she, catching hold of his arm, +as he pretended to leave her, "stay, and to calm your fears, +I will here protest that was it not for the fear of giving +pain to the best of parents, and returning their kindness +with ingratitude, I would follow you through every danger, +and, in studying to promote your happiness, insure my own. +But I cannot break my mother's heart, Montraville; I must not bring +the grey hairs of my doating grand-father with sorrow to the grave, +or make my beloved father perhaps curse the hour that gave me birth." +She covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. + +"All these distressing scenes, my dear Charlotte," cried Montraville, +"are merely the chimeras of a disturbed fancy. Your parents +might perhaps grieve at first; but when they heard from your own +hand that you was with a man of honour, and that it was to insure +your felicity by an union with him, to which you feared they would +never have given their assent, that you left their protection, +they will, be assured, forgive an error which love alone occasioned, +and when we return from America, receive you with open arms and +tears of joy." + +Belcour and Mademoiselle heard this last speech, and conceiving it a proper +time to throw in their advice and persuasions, approached Charlotte, +and so well seconded the entreaties of Montraville, that finding +Mademoiselle intended going with Belcour, and feeling her own treacherous +heart too much inclined to accompany them, the hapless Charlotte, +in an evil hour, consented that the next evening they should bring +a chaise to the end of the town, and that she would leave her friends, +and throw herself entirely on the protection of Montraville. +"But should you," said she, looking earnestly at him, her eyes full +of tears, "should you, forgetful of your promises, and repenting +the engagements you here voluntarily enter into, forsake and leave +me on a foreign shore--" "Judge not so meanly of me," said he. +"The moment we reach our place of destination, Hymen shall sanctify +our love; and when I shall forget your goodness, may heaven forget me." + +"Ah," said Charlotte, leaning on Mademoiselle's arm as they walked up +the garden together, "I have forgot all that I ought to have remembered, +in consenting to this intended elopement." + +"You are a strange girl," said Mademoiselle: "you never know +your own mind two minutes at a time. just now you declared +Montraville's happiness was what you prized most in the world; +and now I suppose you repent having insured that happiness by agreeing +to accompany him abroad." + +"Indeed I do repent," replied Charlotte, "from my soul: +but while discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, +inclination urges me on to ruin." + +"Ruin! fiddlestick!" said Mademoiselle; "am I not going with you? +and do I feel any of these qualms?" + +"You do not renounce a tender father and mother," said Charlotte. + +"But I hazard my dear reputation," replied Mademoiselle, bridling. + +"True," replied Charlotte, "but you do not feel what I do." +She then bade her good night: but sleep was a stranger to her eyes, +and the tear of anguish watered her pillow. + + CHAPTER XII. + + Nature's last, best gift: + Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could + To sight or thought be nam'd! + Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet! + How thou art fall'n!-- +WHEN Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and pale cheek +discovered to Madame Du Pont the little repose she had tasted. + +"My dear child," said the affectionate governess, "what is the cause +of the languor so apparent in your frame? Are you not well?" + +"Yes, my dear Madam, very well," replied Charlotte, attempting to smile, +"but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last night, and my +spirits are depressed this morning." + +"Come chear up, my love," said the governess; "I believe I have +brought a cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter +from your good mama, and here is one for yourself." + +Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words-- + +"As to-morrow is the anniversary of the happy day that gave my beloved +girl to the anxious wishes of a maternal heart, I have requested +your governess to let you come home and spend it with us; and as I +know you to be a good affectionate child, and make it your study +to improve in those branches of education which you know will give +most pleasure to your delighted parents, as a reward for your diligence +and attention I have prepared an agreeable surprise for your reception. +Your grand-father, eager to embrace the darling of his aged heart, +will come in the chaise for you; so hold yourself in readiness +to attend him by nine o'clock. Your dear father joins in every tender +wish for your health and future felicity, which warms the heart +of my dear Charlotte's affectionate mother, + L. TEMPLE." + +"Gracious heaven!" cried Charlotte, forgetting where she was, +and raising her streaming eyes as in earnest supplication. + +Madame Du Pont was surprised. "Why these tears, my love?" said she. +"Why this seeming agitation? I thought the letter would have rejoiced, +instead of distressing you." + +"It does rejoice me," replied Charlotte, endeavouring at composure, +"but I was praying for merit to deserve the unremitted attentions +of the best of parents." + +"You do right," said Madame Du Pont, "to ask the assistance +of heaven that you may continue to deserve their love. +Continue, my dear Charlotte, in the course you have ever pursued, +and you will insure at once their happiness and your own. " + +"Oh!" cried Charlotte, as her governess left her, "I have forfeited both +for ever! Yet let me reflect:--the irrevocable step is not yet taken: +it is not too late to recede from the brink of a precipice, from which I +can only behold the dark abyss of ruin, shame, and remorse!" + +She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La Rue. +"Oh Mademoiselle!" said she, "I am snatched by a miracle from destruction! +This letter has saved me: it has opened my eyes to the folly I was +so near committing. I will not go, Mademoiselle; I will not wound +the hearts of those dear parents who make my happiness the whole +study of their lives." + +"Well," said Mademoiselle, "do as you please, Miss; but pray understand +that my resolution is taken, and it is not in your power to alter it. +I shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed hour, and shall +not be surprized at any outrage which Montraville may commit, +when he finds himself disappointed. Indeed I should not +be astonished, was he to come immediately here, and reproach +you for your instability in the hearing of the whole school: +and what will be the consequence? you will bear the odium of having +formed the resolution of eloping, and every girl of spirit +will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in execution, +while prudes and fools will load you with reproach and contempt. +You will have lost the confidence of your parents, incurred their anger, +and the scoffs of the world; and what fruit do you expect to reap +from this piece of heroism, (for such no doubt you think it is?) +you will have the pleasure to reflect, that you have deceived the man +who adores you, and whom in your heart you prefer to all other men, +and that you are separated from him for ever. " + +This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that Charlotte +could not find an opportunity to interrupt her, or to offer a single +word till the whole was finished, and then found her ideas so confused, +that she knew not what to say. + +At length she determined that she would go with Mademoiselle to the place +of assignation, convince Montraville of the necessity of adhering +to the resolution of remaining behind; assure him of her affection, +and bid him adieu. + +Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and exulted in the certainty +of its success. "How shall I rejoice," said she, "in this +triumph of reason over inclination, and, when in the arms of my +affectionate parents, lift up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I +look back on the dangers I have escaped!" + +The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what money +and valuables she possessed in her pocket, and advised Charlotte +to do the same; but she refused; "my resolution is fixed " said she; +"I will sacrifice love to duty." + +Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they proceeded softly down +the back stairs and out of the garden gate. Montraville and Belcour +were ready to receive them. + +"Now," said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his arms, "you are +mine for ever." + +"No," said she, withdrawing from his embrace, "I am come to take +an everlasting farewel. " + +It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued, +suffice it to say, that Montraville used every argument that had +formerly been successful, Charlotte's resolution began to waver, +and he drew her almost imperceptibly towards the chaise. + +"I cannot go," said she: "cease, dear Montraville, to persuade. +I must not: religion, duty, forbid." + +"Cruel Charlotte," said he, "if you disappoint my ardent hopes, +by all that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence. +I cannot--will not live without you." + +"Alas! my torn heart!" said Charlotte, "how shall I act?" + +"Let me direct you," said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise. + +"Oh! my dear forsaken parents!" cried Charlotte. + +The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms +of her betrayer. + + CHAPTER XIII. + + CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT. + +"WHAT pleasure," cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise +to go for his grand-daughter, "what pleasure expands the heart +of an old man when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child +growing up in every virtue that adorned the minds of her parents. +I foolishly thought, some few years since, that every sense +of joy was buried in the graves of my dear partner and my son; +but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed my soul to peace, +and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my heart, +and opened such new scenes of delight to my view, that I almost +forget I have ever been unhappy." + +When the chaise stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth; +so much do the emotions of the soul influence the body. + +It was half past eight o'clock; the ladies were assembled +in the school room, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer +the morning sacrifice of prayer and praise, when it was discovered, +that Mademoiselle and Charlotte were missing. + +"She is busy, no doubt," said the governess, "in preparing +Charlotte for her little excursion; but pleasure should never make +us forget our duty to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them +both attend prayers. " + +The lady who went to summon them, soon returned, and informed +the governess, that the room was locked, and that she had +knocked repeatedly, but obtained no answer. + +"Good heaven!" cried Madame Du Pont, "this is very strange:" +and turning pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, +and ordered it to be forced open. The apartment instantly discovered, +that no person had been in it the preceding night, the beds appearing +as though just made. The house was instantly a scene of confusion: +the garden, the pleasure grounds were searched to no purpose, +every apartment rang with the names of Miss Temple and Mademoiselle; +but they were too distant to hear; and every face wore the +marks of disappointment. + +Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlour, eagerly expecting +his grand-daughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: +he heard the confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name +of Charlotte frequently repeated. "What can be the matter?" +said he, rising and opening the door: "I fear some accident has +befallen my dear girl." + +The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance +discovered that something extraordinary had happened. + +"Where is Charlotte?" said he, "Why does not my child come to welcome +her doating parent?" + +"Be composed, my dear Sir," said Madame Du Pont, "do not frighten +yourself unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; +but as Mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily +return in safety; and I hope they will both be able to account +for this unseasonable absence in such a manner as shall remove +our present uneasiness." + +"Madam," cried the old man, with an angry look, "has my child +been accustomed to go out without leave, with no other company +or protector than that French woman. Pardon me, Madam, I mean no +reflections on your country, but I never did like Mademoiselle La Rue; +I think she was a very improper person to be entrusted with the care +of such a girl as Charlotte Temple, or to be suffered to take her +from under your immediate protection." + +"You wrong me, Mr. Eldridge," replied she, "if you suppose I have ever +permitted your grand-daughter to go out unless with the other ladies. +I would to heaven I could form any probable conjecture concerning +her absence this morning, but it is a mystery which her return can +alone unravel." Servants were now dispatched to every place where there +was the least hope of hearing any tidings of the fugitives, but in vain. +Dreadful were the hours of horrid suspense which Mr. Eldridge +passed till twelve o'clock, when that suspense was reduced to a +shocking certainty, and every spark of hope which till then they +had indulged, was in a moment extinguished. + +Mr. Eldridge was preparing, with a heavy heart, to return to +his anxiously-expecting children, when Madame Du Pont received +the following note without either name or date. + +"Miss Temple is well, and wishes to relieve the anxiety of her parents, +by letting them know she has voluntarily put herself under the +protection of a man whose future study shall be to make her happy. +Pursuit is needless; the measures taken to avoid discovery are too +effectual to be eluded. When she thinks her friends are reconciled +to this precipitate step, they may perhaps be informed of her place +of residence. Mademoiselle is with her." + +As Madame Du Pont read these cruel lines, she turned pale as ashes, +her limbs trembled, and she was forced to call for a glass of water. +She loved Charlotte truly; and when she reflected on the innocence +and gentleness of her disposition, she concluded that it must have +been the advice and machinations of La Rue, which led her to this +imprudent action; she recollected her agitation at the receipt +of her mother's letter, and saw in it the conflict of her mind. + +"Does that letter relate to Charlotte?" said Mr. Eldridge, +having waited some time in expectation of Madame Du Pont's speaking. + +"It does," said she. "Charlotte is well, but cannot return today." + +"Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from +her fond, expecting parents?" + +"You distract me with these questions, Mr. Eldridge. Indeed I know +not where she is, or who has seduced her from her duty." + +The whole truth now rushed at once upon Mr. Eldridge's mind. +"She has eloped then," said he. "My child is betrayed; the darling, +the comfort of my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had +died but yesterday." + +A violent gush of grief in some measure relieved him, and, after +several vain attempts, he at length assumed sufficient composure +to read the note. + +"And how shall I return to my children?" said he: "how approach +that mansion, so late the habitation of peace? Alas! my dear Lucy, +how will you support these heart-rending tidings? or how shall I +be enabled to console you, who need so much consolation myself?" + +The old man returned to the chaise, but the light step and chearful +countenance were no more; sorrow filled his heart, and guided his motions; +he seated himself in the chaise, his venerable head reclined +upon his bosom, his hands were folded, his eye fixed on vacancy, +and the large drops of sorrow rolled silently down his cheeks. +There was a mixture of anguish and resignation depicted in his countenance, +as if he would say, henceforth who shall dare to boast his happiness, +or even in idea contemplate his treasure, lest, in the very moment +his heart is exulting in its own felicity, the object which constitutes +that felicity should be torn from him. + + CHAPTER XIV. + + MATERNAL SORROW. + +SLOW and heavy passed the time while the carriage was conveying +Mr. Eldridge home; and yet when he came in sight of the house, +he wished a longer reprieve from the dreadful task of informing +Mr. and Mrs. Temple of their daughter's elopement. + +It is easy to judge the anxiety of these affectionate parents, +when they found the return of their father delayed so much beyond +the expected time. They were now met in the dining parlour, and several +of the young people who had been invited were already arrived. +Each different part of the company was employed in the same manner, +looking out at the windows which faced the road. At length +the long-expected chaise appeared. Mrs. Temple ran out to receive +and welcome her darling: her young companions flocked round the door, +each one eager to give her joy on the return of her birth-day. +The door of the chaise was opened: Charlotte was not there. +"Where is my child?" cried Mrs. Temple, in breathless agitation. + +Mr. Eldridge could not answer: he took hold of his daughter's hand +and led her into the house; and sinking on the first chair he came to, +burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. + +"She is dead," cried Mrs. Temple. "Oh my dear Charlotte!" and clasping +her hands in an agony of distress, fell into strong hysterics. + +Mr. Temple, who had stood speechless with surprize and fear, +now ventured to enquire if indeed his Charlotte was no more. +Mr. Eldridge led him into another apartment; and putting the fatal +note into his hand, cried--"Bear it like a Christian," and turned +from him, endeavouring to suppress his own too visible emotions. + +It would be vain to attempt describing what Mr. Temple +felt whilst he hastily ran over the dreadful lines: +when he had finished, the paper dropt from his unnerved hand. +"Gracious heaven!" said he, "could Charlotte act thus?" +Neither tear nor sigh escaped him; and he sat the image of mute sorrow, +till roused from his stupor by the repeated shrieks of Mrs. Temple. +He rose hastily, and rushing into the apartment where she was, +folded his arms about her, and saying--"Let us be patient, my dear Lucy," +nature relieved his almost bursting heart by a friendly gush of tears. + +Should any one, presuming on his own philosophic temper, look with +an eye of contempt on the man who could indulge a woman's weakness, +let him remember that man was a father, and he will then pity +the misery which wrung those drops from a noble, generous heart. + +Mrs. Temple beginning to be a little more composed, but still +imagining her child was dead, her husband, gently taking her hand, +cried--"You are mistaken, my love. Charlotte is not dead. " + +"Then she is very ill, else why did she not come? But I will go to her: +the chaise is still at the door: let me go instantly to the dear girl. +If I was ill, she would fly to attend me, to alleviate my sufferings, +and chear me with her love." + +"Be calm, my dearest Lucy, and I will tell you all," said Mr. Temple. +"You must not go, indeed you must not; it will be of no use." + +"Temple," said she, assuming a look of firmness and composure, +"tell me the truth I beseech you. I cannot bear this dreadful suspense. +What misfortune has befallen my child? Let me know the worst, +and I will endeavour to bear it as I ought. " + +"Lucy," replied Mr. Temple, "imagine your daughter alive, and in no +danger of death: what misfortune would you then dread?" + +"There is one misfortune which is worse than death. But I know +my child too well to suspect--" + +"Be not too confident, Lucy." + +"Oh heavens!" said she, "what horrid images do you start: +is it possible she should forget--" + +"She has forgot us all, my love; she has preferred the love of a +stranger to the affectionate protection of her friends. + +"Not eloped?" cried she eagerly. + +Mr. Temple was silent. + +"You cannot contradict it," said she. "I see my fate in those +tearful eyes. Oh Charlotte! Charlotte! how ill have you requited +our tenderness! But, Father of Mercies," continued she, sinking on +her knees, and raising her streaming eyes and clasped hands to heaven, +"this once vouchsafe to hear a fond, a distracted mother's prayer. +Oh let thy bounteous Providence watch over and protect the dear +thoughtless girl, save her from the miseries which I fear will be +her portion, and oh! of thine infinite mercy, make her not a mother, +lest she should one day feel what I now suffer." + +The last words faultered on her tongue, and she fell fainting +into the arms of her husband, who had involuntarily dropped on his +knees beside her. + +A mother's anguish, when disappointed in her tenderest hopes, +none but a mother can conceive. Yet, my dear young readers, +I would have you read this scene with attention, and reflect that you +may yourselves one day be mothers. Oh my friends, as you value your +eternal happiness, wound not, by thoughtless ingratitude, the peace +of the mother who bore you: remember the tenderness, the care, +the unremitting anxiety with which she has attended to all your wants +and wishes from earliest infancy to the present day; behold the mild +ray of affectionate applause that beams from her eye on the performance +of your duty: listen to her reproofs with silent attention; +they proceed from a heart anxious for your future felicity: +you must love her; nature, all-powerful nature, has planted the seeds +of filial affection in your bosoms. + +Then once more read over the sorrows of poor Mrs. Temple, and remember, +the mother whom you so dearly love and venerate will feel the same, +when you, forgetful of the respect due to your maker and yourself, +forsake the paths of virtue for those of vice and folly. + + CHAPTER XV. + + EMBARKATION. + +IT was with the utmost difficulty that the united efforts of +Mademoiselle and Montraville could support Charlotte's spirits +during their short ride from Chichester to Portsmouth, where a boat +waited to take them immediately on board the ship in which they +were to embark for America. + +As soon as she became tolerably composed, she entreated pen and ink to +write to her parents. This she did in the most affecting, artless manner, +entreating their pardon and blessing, and describing the dreadful +situation of her mind, the conflict she suffered in endeavouring +to conquer this unfortunate attachment, and concluded with saying, +her only hope of future comfort consisted in the (perhaps delusive) +idea she indulged, of being once more folded in their protecting arms, +and hearing the words of peace and pardon from their lips. + +The tears streamed incessantly while she was writing, and she was +frequently obliged to lay down her pen: but when the task was completed, +and she had committed the letter to the care of Montraville to be sent +to the post office, she became more calm, and indulging the delightful +hope of soon receiving an answer that would seal her pardon, +she in some measure assumed her usual chearfulness. + +But Montraville knew too well the consequences that must +unavoidably ensue, should this letter reach Mr. Temple: +he therefore wisely resolved to walk on the deck, tear it in pieces, +and commit the fragments to the care of Neptune, who might or might not, +as it suited his convenience, convey them on shore. + +All Charlotte's hopes and wishes were now concentred in one, +namely that the fleet might be detained at Spithead till she could +receive a letter from her friends: but in this she was disappointed, +for the second morning after she went on board, the signal was made, +the fleet weighed anchor, and in a few hours (the wind being favourable) +they bid adieu to the white cliffs of Al-bion. + +In the mean time every enquiry that could be thought of was made +by Mr. and Mrs. Temple; for many days did they indulge the fond hope +that she was merely gone off to be married, and that when the indissoluble +knot was once tied, she would return with the partner she had chosen, +and entreat their blessing and forgiveness. + +"And shall we not forgive her?" said Mr. Temple. + +"Forgive her!" exclaimed the mother. "Oh yes, whatever be our errors, +is she not our child? and though bowed to the earth even with shame +and remorse, is it not our duty to raise the poor penitent, +and whisper peace and comfort to her desponding soul? would she +but return, with rapture would I fold her to my heart, and bury +every remembrance of her faults in the dear embrace." + +But still day after day passed on, and Charlotte did not appear, +nor were any tidings to be heard of her: yet each rising morning was +welcomed by some new hope--the evening brought with it disappointment. +At length hope was no more; despair usurped her place; and the +mansion which was once the mansion of peace, became the habitation +of pale, dejected melancholy. + +The chearful smile that was wont to adorn the face of Mrs. Temple +was fled, and had it not been for the support of unaffected piety, +and a consciousness of having ever set before her child the fairest +example, she must have sunk under this heavy affliction. + +"Since," said she, "the severest scrutiny cannot charge me with any +breach of duty to have deserved this severe chastisement, I will bow +before the power who inflicts it with humble resignation to his will; +nor shall the duty of a wife be totally absorbed in the feelings of +the mother; I will endeavour to appear more chearful, and by appearing +in some measure to have conquered my own sorrow, alleviate the sufferings +of my husband, and rouse him from that torpor into which this misfortune +has plunged him. My father too demands my care and attention: +I must not, by a selfish indulgence of my own grief, forget the +interest those two dear objects take in my happiness or misery: +I will wear a smile on my face, though the thorn rankles in my heart; +and if by so doing, I in the smallest degree contribute to restore +their peace of mind, I shall be amply rewarded for the pain +the concealment of my own feelings may occasion. + +Thus argued this excellent woman: and in the execution of so +laudable a resolution we shall leave her, to follow the fortunes +of the hapless victim of imprudence and evil counsellors. + + CHAPTER XVI. + + NECESSARY DIGRESSION. + +ON board of the ship in which Charlotte and Mademoiselle were embarked, +was an officer of large unincumbered fortune and elevated rank, +and whom I shall call Crayton. + +He was one of those men, who, having travelled in their youth, +pretend to have contracted a peculiar fondness for every thing foreign, +and to hold in contempt the productions of their own country; +and this affected partiality extended even to the women. + +With him therefore the blushing modesty and unaffected simplicity +of Charlotte passed unnoticed; but the forward pertness of La Rue, +the freedom of her conversation, the elegance of her person, +mixed with a certain engaging JE NE SAIS QUOI, perfectly enchanted him. + +The reader no doubt has already developed the character of La Rue: +designing, artful, and selfish, she had accepted the devoirs +of Belcour because she was heartily weary of the retired life +she led at the school, wished to be released from what she +deemed a slavery, and to return to that vortex of folly and +dissipation which had once plunged her into the deepest misery; +but her plan she flattered herself was now better formed: +she resolved to put herself under the protection of no man till +she had first secured a settlement; but the clandestine manner +in which she left Madame Du Pont's prevented her putting this plan +in execution, though Belcour solemnly protested he would make +her a handsome settlement the moment they arrived at Portsmouth. +This he afterwards contrived to evade by a pretended hurry of business; +La Rue readily conceiving he never meant to fulfil his promise, +determined to change her battery, and attack the heart of Colonel Crayton. +She soon discovered the partiality he entertained for her nation; +and having imposed on him a feigned tale of distress, representing Belcour +as a villain who had seduced her from her friends under promise +of marriage, and afterwards betrayed her, pretending great remorse +for the errors she had committed, and declaring whatever her affection +for Belcour might have been, it was now entirely extinguished, +and she wished for nothing more than an opportunity to leave a course +of life which her soul abhorred; but she had no friends to apply to, +they had all renounced her, and guilt and misery would undoubtedly +be her future portion through life. + +Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities, though the peculiar +trait in his character, which we have already mentioned, +in a great measure threw a shade over them. He was beloved for his +humanity and benevolence by all who knew him, but he was easy and +unsuspicious himself, and became a dupe to the artifice of others. + +He was, when very young, united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps +it was his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality +he ever retained for the whole nation. He had by her one daughter, +who entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. +This lady was universally beloved and admired, being endowed with +all the virtues of her mother, without the weakness of the father: +she was married to Major Beauchamp, and was at this time in the same +fleet with her father, attending her husband to New-York. + +Crayton was melted by the affected contrition and distress of La Rue: +he would converse with her for hours, read to her, play cards +with her, listen to all her complaints, and promise to protect +her to the utmost of his power. La Rue easily saw his character; +her sole aim was to awaken a passion in his bosom that might turn +out to her advantage, and in this aim she was but too successful, +for before the voyage was finished, the infatuated Colonel gave +her from under his hand a promise of marriage on their arrival +at New-York, under forfeiture of five thousand pounds. + +And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious +and tempestuous passage? naturally delicate, the fatigue and +sickness which she endured rendered her so weak as to be almost +entirely confined to her bed: yet the kindness and attention of +Montraville in some measure contributed to alleviate her sufferings, +and the hope of hearing from her friends soon after her arrival, +kept up her spirits, and cheered many a gloomy hour. + +But during the voyage a great revolution took place not +only in the fortune of La Rue but in the bosom of Belcour: +whilst in pursuit of his amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended +little to the interesting, inobtrusive charms of Charlotte, but when, +cloyed by possession, and disgusted with the art and dissimulation +of one, he beheld the simplicity and gentleness of the other, +the contrast became too striking not to fill him at once with +surprise and admiration. He frequently conversed with Charlotte; +he found her sensible, well informed, but diffident and unassuming. +The languor which the fatigue of her body and perturbation of her +mind spread over her delicate features, served only in his opinion +to render her more lovely: he knew that Montraville did not design +to marry her, and he formed a resolution to endeavour to gain her +himself whenever Montraville should leave her. + +Let not the reader imagine Belcour's designs were honourable. +Alas! when once a woman has forgot the respect due to herself, +by yielding to the solicitations of illicit love, they lose all +their consequence, even in the eyes of the man whose art has betrayed them, +and for whose sake they have sacrificed every valuable consideration. + +The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys, + +A man may pity--but he must despise. Nay, every libertine will +think he has a right to insult her with his licentious passion; +and should the unhappy creature shrink from the insolent overture, +he will sneeringly taunt her with pretence of modesty. + +CHAPTER XVII. + + A WEDDING. + +ON the day before their arrival at New-York, after dinner, +Crayton arose from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, +thus addressed the company-- + +"As we are now nearly arrived at our destined port, I think +it but my duty to inform you, my friends, that this lady," +(taking her hand,) "has placed herself under my protection. +I have seen and severely felt the anguish of her heart, and through +every shade which cruelty or malice may throw over her, can discover +the most amiable qualities. I thought it but necessary to mention my +esteem for her before our disembarkation, as it is my fixed resolution, +the morning after we land, to give her an undoubted title to my +favour and protection by honourably uniting my fate to hers. +I would wish every gentleman here therefore to remember that her +honour henceforth is mine, and," continued he, looking at Belcour, +"should any man presume to speak in the least disrespectfully of her, +I shall not hesitate to pronounce him a scoundrel." + +Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bowing profoundly low, +wished Mademoiselle much joy in the proposed union; and assuring +the Colonel that he need not be in the least apprehensive of +any one throwing the least odium on the character of his lady, +shook him by the hand with ridiculous gravity, and left the cabin. + +The truth was, he was glad to be rid of La Rue, and so he was but freed +from her, he cared not who fell a victim to her infamous arts. + +The inexperienced Charlotte was astonished at what she heard. +She thought La Rue had, like herself, only been urged by the force +of her attachment to Belcour, to quit her friends, and follow +him to the feat of war: how wonderful then, that she should +resolve to marry another man. It was certainly extremely wrong. +It was indelicate. She mentioned her thoughts to Montraville. +He laughed at her simplicity, called her a little ideot, +and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of the world. +"If the world sanctifies such things, 'tis a very bad world I think," +said Charlotte. "Why I always understood they were to have been +married when they arrived at New-York. I am sure Mademoiselle told +me Belcour promised to marry her." + +"Well, and suppose he did?" + +"Why, he should be obliged to keep his word I think." + +"Well, but I suppose he has changed his mind," said Montraville, +"and then you know the case is altered." + +Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment. A full sense +of her own situation rushed upon her mind. She burst into tears, +and remained silent. Montraville too well understood the cause +of her tears. He kissed her cheek, and bidding her not make +herself uneasy, unable to bear the silent but keen remonstrance, +hastily left her. + +The next morning by sun-rise they found themselves at anchor before +the city of New-York. A boat was ordered to convey the ladies on shore. +Crayton accompanied them; and they were shewn to a house of +public entertainment. Scarcely were they seated when the door opened, +and the Colonel found himself in the arms of his daughter, +who had landed a few minutes before him. The first transport +of meeting subsided, Crayton introduced his daughter to Mademoiselle +La Rue, as an old friend of her mother's, (for the artful French +woman had really made it appear to the credulous Colonel that she +was in the same convent with his first wife, and, though much younger, +had received many tokens of her esteem and regard.) + +"If, Mademoiselle," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "you were the friend +of my mother, you must be worthy the esteem of all good hearts. +" "Mademoiselle will soon honour our family," said Crayton, +"by supplying the place that valuable woman filled: and as you +are married, my dear, I think you will not blame--" + +"Hush, my dear Sir," replied Mrs. Beauchamp: "I know +my duty too well to scrutinize your conduct. Be assured, +my dear father, your happiness is mine. I shall rejoice in it, +and sincerely love the person who contributes to it. But tell me," +continued she, turning to Charlotte, "who is this lovely girl? +Is she your sister, Mademoiselle?" + +A blush, deep as the glow of the carnation, suffused the +cheeks of Charlotte. + +"It is a young lady," replied the Colonel, "who came in the same +vessel with us from England.' He then drew his daughter aside, +and told her in a whisper, Charlotte was the mistress of Montraville. + +"What a pity!" said Mrs. Beauchamp softly, (casting a most +compassionate glance at her.) "But surely her mind is not depraved. +The goodness of her heart is depicted in her ingenuous countenance. " + +"Charlotte caught the word pity. "And am I already fallen so low?" +said she. A sigh escaped her, and a tear was ready to start, +but Montraville appeared, and she checked the rising emotion. +Mademoiselle went with the Colonel and his daughter to +another apartment. Charlotte remained with Montraville and Belcour. +The next morning the Colonel performed his promise, and La Rue +became in due form Mrs. Crayton, exulted in her own good fortune, +and dared to look with an eye of contempt on the unfortunate but far +less guilty Charlotte. + + END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, + + VOLUME II + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + REFLECTIONS. + +"AND am I indeed fallen so low," said Charlotte, "as to be only pitied? +Will the voice of approbation no more meet my ear? and shall I never again +possess a friend, whose face will wear a smile of joy whenever I approach? +Alas! how thoughtless, how dreadfully imprudent have I been! +I know not which is most painful to endure, the sneer of contempt, +or the glance of compassion, which is depicted in the various +countenances of my own sex: they are both equally humiliating. +Ah! my dear parents, could you now see the child of your affections, +the daughter whom you so dearly loved, a poor solitary being, +without society, here wearing out her heavy hours in deep regret +and anguish of heart, no kind friend of her own sex to whom she +can unbosom her griefs, no beloved mother, no woman of character +will appear in my company, and low as your Charlotte is fallen, +she cannot associate with infamy." + +These were the painful reflections which occupied the mind of Charlotte. +Montraville had placed her in a small house a few miles from +New-York: he gave her one female attendant, and supplied her +with what money she wanted; but business and pleasure so entirely +occupied his time, that he had little to devote to the woman, +whom he had brought from all her connections, and robbed of innocence. +Sometimes, indeed, he would steal out at the close of evening, +and pass a few hours with her; and then so much was she attached to him, +that all her sorrows were forgotten while blest with his society: +she would enjoy a walk by moonlight, or sit by him in a little +arbour at the bottom of the garden, and play on the harp, +accompanying it with her plaintive, harmonious voice. But often, +very often, did he promise to renew his visits, and, forgetful of +his promise, leave her to mourn her disappointment. What painful +hours of expectation would she pass! She would sit at a window +which looked toward a field he used to cross, counting the minutes, +and straining her eyes to catch the first glimpse of his person, +till blinded with tears of disappointment, she would lean her head +on her hands, and give free vent to her sorrows: then catching +at some new hope, she would again renew her watchful position, +till the shades of evening enveloped every object in a dusky cloud: +she would then renew her complaints, and, with a heart bursting +with disappointed love and wounded sensibility, retire to a bed +which remorse had strewed with thorns, and court in vain +that comforter of weary nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) +to come and steep her senses in oblivion. + +Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind +of Charlotte? The wife, whose breast glows with affection to her husband, +and who in return meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive +her anguish. Dreadfully painful is the situation of such a woman, +but she has many comforts of which our poor Charlotte was deprived. +The duteous, faithful wife, though treated with indifference, +has one solid pleasure within her own bosom, she can reflect +that she has not deserved neglect--that she has ever fulfilled +the duties of her station with the strictest exactness; +she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted attention, +to recall her wanderer, and be doubly happy in his returning affection; +she knows he cannot leave her to unite himself to another: +he cannot cast her out to poverty and contempt; she looks around her, +and sees the smile of friendly welcome, or the tear of affectionate +consolation, on the face of every person whom she favours with +her esteem; and from all these circumstances she gathers comfort: +but the poor girl by thoughtless passion led astray, who, in parting +with her honour, has forfeited the esteem of the very man to whom she has +sacri-iced every thing dear and valuable in life, feels his indifference +in the fruit of her own folly, and laments her want of power to recall +his lost affection; she knows there is no tie but honour, and that, +in a man who has been guilty of seduction, is but very feeble: +he may leave her in a moment to shame and want; he may marry and +forsake her for ever; and should he, she has no redress, no friendly, +soothing companion to pour into her wounded mind the balm of consolation, +no benevolent hand to lead her back to the path of rectitude; +she has disgraced her friends, forfeited the good opinion of the world, +and undone herself; she feels herself a poor solitary being in +the midst of surrounding multitudes; shame bows her to the earth, +remorse tears her distracted mind, and guilt, poverty, and disease +close the dreadful scene: she sinks unnoticed to oblivion. +The finger of contempt may point out to some passing daughter of +youthful mirth, the humble bed where lies this frail sister of mortality; +and will she, in the unbounded gaiety of her heart, exult in her own +unblemished fame, and triumph over the silent ashes of the dead? +Oh no! has she a heart of sensibility, she will stop, and thus +address the unhappy victim of folly-- + +"Thou had'st thy faults, but sure thy sufferings have expiated them: +thy errors brought thee to an early grave; but thou wert a fellow-creature-- +thou hast been unhappy--then be those errors forgotten. " + +Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, +a tear will fall, and consecrate the spot to Charity. + +For ever honoured be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of +mercy shall record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang +shall be immortal. + +My dear Madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. +I mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall +victims to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many +errors we are ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid +in the recesses of our hearts, which we should blush to have brought +into open day (and yet those faults require the lenity and pity +of a benevolent judge, or awful would be our prospect of futurity) +I say, my dear Madam, when we consider this, we surely may pity +the faults of others. + +Believe me, many an unfortunate female, who has once strayed +into the thorny paths of vice, would gladly return to virtue, +was any generous friend to endeavour to raise and re-assure her; +but alas! it cannot be, you say; the world would deride and scoff. +Then let me tell you, Madam, 'tis a very unfeeling world, +and does not deserve half the blessings which a bountiful Providence +showers upon it. + +Oh, thou benevolent giver of all good! how shall we erring mortals +dare to look up to thy mercy in the great day of retribution, +if we now uncharitably refuse to overlook the errors, or alleviate +the miseries, of our fellow-creatures. + + CHAPTER XIX. + + A MISTAKE DISCOVERED. + +JULIA Franklin was the only child of a man of large property, +who, at the age of eighteen, left her independent mistress +of an unincumbered income of seven hundred a year; she was +a girl of a lively disposition, and humane, susceptible heart: +she resided in New-York with an uncle, who loved her too well, +and had too high an opinion of her prudence, to scrutinize her +actions so much as would have been necessary with many young ladies, +who were not blest with her discretion: she was, at the time Montraville +arrived at New-York, the life of society, and the universal toast. +Montraville was introduced to her by the following accident. + +One night when he was upon guard, a dreadful fire broke out near +Mr. Franklin's house, which, in a few hours, reduced that and several +others to ashes; fortunately no lives were lost, and, by the assiduity +of the soldiers, much valuable property was saved from the flames. +In the midst of the confusion an old gentleman came up to Montraville, +and, putting a small box into his hands, cried--"Keep it, +my good Sir, till I come to you again;" and then rushing again +into the thickest of the croud, Montraville saw him no more. +He waited till the fire was quite extinguished and the mob dispersed; +but in vain: the old gentleman did not appear to claim his property; +and Montraville, fearing to make any enquiry, lest he should meet +with impostors who might lay claim, without any legal right, +to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it up: +he naturally imagined, that the person who committed it to his care +knew him, and would, in a day or two, reclaim it; but several +weeks passed on, and no enquiry being made, he began to be uneasy, +and resolved to examine the contents of the box, and if they were, +as he supposed, valuable, to spare no pains to discover, and restore +them to the owner. Upon opening it, he found it contained +jewels to a large amount, about two hundred pounds in money, +and a miniature picture set for a bracelet. On examining the picture, +he thought he had somewhere seen features very like it, but could +not recollect where. A few days after, being at a public assembly, +he saw Miss Franklin, and the likeness was too evident to be mistaken: +he enquired among his brother officers if any of them knew her, +and found one who was upon terms of intimacy in the family: +"then introduce me to her immediately," said he, "for I am certain I +can inform her of something which will give her peculiar pleasure." + +He was immediately introduced, found she was the owner of the jewels, and +was invited to breakfast the next morning in order to their restoration. +This whole evening Montraville was honoured with Julia's hand; +the lively sallies of her wit, the elegance of her manner, +powerfully charmed him: he forgot Charlotte, and indulged himself +in saying every thing that was polite and tender to Julia. +But on retiring, recollection returned. "What am I about?" said he: +"though I cannot marry Charlotte, I cannot be villain enough to +forsake her, nor must I dare to trifle with the heart of Julia Franklin. +I will return this box," said he, "which has been the source of so +much uneasiness already, and in the evening pay a visit to my poor +melancholy Charlotte, and endeavour to forget this fascinating Julia." + +He arose, dressed himself, and taking the picture out, "I will reserve +this from the rest," said he, "and by presenting it to her when she +thinks it is lost, enhance the value of the obligation." He repaired +to Mr. Franklin's, and found Julia in the breakfast parlour alone. + +"How happy am I, Madam," said he, "that being the fortunate +instrument of saving these jewels has been the means of procuring +me the acquaintance of so amiable a lady. There are the jewels +and money all safe." + +"But where is the picture, Sir?" said Julia. + +"Here, Madam. I would not willingly part with it." + +"It is the portrait of my mother," said she, taking it from him: +"'tis all that remains." She pressed it to her lips, and a tear +trembled in her eyes. Montraville glanced his eye on her grey night +gown and black ribbon, and his own feelings prevented a reply. + +Julia Franklin was the very reverse of Charlotte Temple: +she was tall, elegantly shaped, and possessed much of the air +and manner of a woman of fashion; her complexion was a clear brown, +enlivened with the glow of health, her eyes, full, black, and sparkling, +darted their intelligent glances through long silken lashes; +her hair was shining brown, and her features regular and striking; +there was an air of innocent gaiety that played about her countenance, +where good humour sat triumphant. + +"I have been mistaken," said Montraville. "I imagined I loved Charlotte: +but alas! I am now too late convinced my attachment to her was merely +the impulse of the moment. I fear I have not only entailed lasting +misery on that poor girl, but also thrown a barrier in the way +of my own happiness, which it will be impossible to surmount. +I feel I love Julia Franklin with ardour and sincerity; +yet, when in her presence, I am sensible of my own inability +to offer a heart worthy her acceptance, and remain silent." +Full of these painful thoughts, Montraville walked out to see Charlotte: +she saw him approach, and ran out to meet him: she banished +from her countenance the air of discontent which ever appeared +when he was absent, and met him with a smile of joy. + +"I thought you had forgot me, Montraville," said she, +"and was very unhappy." + +"I shall never forget you, Charlotte," he replied, pressing her hand. + +The uncommon gravity of his countenance, and the brevity of +his reply, alarmed her. + +"You are not well," said she; "your hand is hot; your eyes are heavy; +you are very ill. " + +"I am a villain," said he mentally, as he turned from her to +hide his emotions. + +"But come," continued she tenderly, "you shall go to bed, and I will +sit by, and watch you; you will be better when you have slept. " + +Montraville was glad to retire, and by pretending sleep, +hide the agitation of his mind from her penetrating eye. +Charlotte watched by him till a late hour, and then, lying softly +down by his side, sunk into a profound sleep, from whence she awoke +not till late the next morning. + + CHAPTER XX. + + Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth + her hand to raise a fallen sister. + CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS. + +WHEN Charlotte awoke, she missed Montraville; but thinking +he might have arisen early to enjoy the beauties of the morning, +she was preparing to follow him, when casting her eye on the table, +she saw a note, and opening it hastily, found these words-- + +"My dear Charlotte must not be surprised, if she does not see me again +for some time: unavoidable business will prevent me that pleasure: +be assured I am quite well this morning; and what your fond +imagination magnified into illness, was nothing more than fatigue, +which a few hours rest has entirely removed. Make yourself happy, +and be certain of the unalterable friendship of + "MONTRAVILLE." + +"FRIENDSHIP!" said Charlotte emphatically, as she finished the note, +"is it come to this at last? Alas! poor, forsaken Charlotte, +thy doom is now but too apparent. Montraville is no longer +interested in thy happiness; and shame, remorse, and disappointed +love will henceforth be thy only attendants. " + +Though these were the ideas that involuntarily rushed upon the mind +of Charlotte as she perused the fatal note, yet after a few hours +had elapsed, the syren Hope again took possession of her bosom, +and she flattered herself she could, on a second perusal, +discover an air of tenderness in the few lines he had left, +which at first had escaped her notice. + +"He certainly cannot be so base as to leave me," said she, +"and in stiling himself my friend does he not promise to protect me. +I will not torment myself with these causeless fears; I will place +a confidence in his honour; and sure he will not be so unjust +as to abuse it." + +Just as she had by this manner of reasoning brought her mind to some +tolerable degree of composure, she was surprised by a visit from Belcour. +The dejection visible in Charlotte's countenance, her swoln eyes +and neglected attire, at once told him she was unhappy: he made no +doubt but Montraville had, by his coldness, alarmed her suspicions, +and was resolved, if possible, to rouse her to jealousy, urge her +to reproach him, and by that means occasion a breach between them. +"If I can once convince her that she has a rival," said he, +"she will listen to my passion if it is only to revenge his slights." +Belcour knew but little of the female heart; and what he did +know was only of those of loose and dissolute lives. +He had no idea that a woman might fall a victim to imprudence, +and yet retain so strong a sense of honour, as to reject +with horror and contempt every solicitation to a second fault. +He never imagined that a gentle, generous female heart, +once tenderly attached, when treated with unkindness might break, +but would never harbour a thought of revenge. + +His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion +in the heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour +of her life. + +We will now return for a moment to Colonel Crayton. He had been +three months married, and in that little time had discovered that +the conduct of his lady was not so prudent as it ought to have been: +but remonstrance was vain; her temper was violent; and to the Colonel's +great misfortune he had conceived a sincere affection for her: +she saw her own power, and, with the art of a Circe, made every +action appear to him in what light she pleased: his acquaintance +laughed at his blindness, his friends pitied his infatuation, +his amiable daughter, Mrs. Beauchamp, in secret deplored the loss +of her father's affection, and grieved that he should be so entirely +swayed by an artful, and, she much feared, infamous woman. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was mild and engaging; she loved not the hurry +and bustle of a city, and had prevailed on her husband to take +a house a few miles from New-York. Chance led her into the same +neighbourhood with Charlotte; their houses stood within a short space +of each other, and their gardens joined: she had not been long +in her new habitation before the figure of Charlotte struck her; +she recollected her interesting features; she saw the melancholy so +conspicuous in her countenance, and her heart bled at the reflection, +that perhaps deprived of honour, friends, all that was valuable +in life, she was doomed to linger out a wretched existence in a +strange land, and sink broken-hearted into an untimely grave. +"Would to heaven I could snatch her from so hard a fate," said she; +"but the merciless world has barred the doors of compassion +against a poor weak girl, who, perhaps, had she one kind friend +to raise and reassure her, would gladly return to peace and virtue; +nay, even the woman who dares to pity, and endeavour to recall +a wandering sister, incurs the sneer of contempt and ridicule, +for an action in which even angels are said to rejoice." + +The longer Mrs. Beauchamp was a witness to the solitary life Charlotte led, +the more she wished to speak to her, and often as she saw her cheeks +wet with the tears of anguish, she would say--"Dear sufferer, +how gladly would I pour into your heart the balm of consolation, +were it not for the fear of derision." + +But an accident soon happened which made her resolve to brave +even the scoffs of the world, rather than not enjoy the heavenly +satisfaction of comforting a desponding fellow-creature. + +Mrs. Beauchamp was an early riser. She was one morning walking +in the garden, leaning on her husband's arm, when the sound of a harp +attracted their notice: they listened attentively, and heard a soft +melodious voice distinctly sing the following stanzas: + + Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, + Just rising from the sea, + To chear all nature with thy light, + What are thy beams to me? + In vain thy glories bid me rise, + To hail the new-born day, + Alas! my morning sacrifice + Is still to weep and pray. + For what are nature's charms combin'd, + To one, whose weary breast + Can neither peace nor comfort find, + Nor friend whereon to rest? + Oh! never! never! whilst I live + Can my heart's anguish cease: + Come, friendly death, thy mandate give, + And let me be at peace. + +"'Tis poor Charlotte!" said Mrs. Beauchamp, the pellucid drop +of humanity stealing down her cheek. + +Captain Beauchamp was alarmed at her emotion. "What Charlotte?" +said he; "do you know her?" + +In the accent of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband +Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had +formed of being serviceable to her. "I fear," continued she, +"the poor girl has been basely betrayed; and if I thought you would +not blame me, I would pay her a visit, offer her my friendship, +and endeavour to restore to her heart that peace she seems to have lost, +and so pathetically laments. Who knows, my dear," laying her hand +affectionately on his arm, "who knows but she has left some kind, +affectionate parents to lament her errors, and would she return, +they might with rapture receive the poor penitent, and wash away +her faults in tears of joy. Oh! what a glorious reflexion would +it be for me could I be the happy instrument of restoring her. +Her heart may not be depraved, Beauchamp." + +"Exalted woman!" cried Beauchamp, embracing her, "how dost thou +rise every moment in my esteem. Follow the impulse of thy +generous heart, my Emily. Let prudes and fools censure if they dare, +and blame a sensibility they never felt; I will exultingly tell +them that the heart that is truly virtuous is ever inclined to pity +and forgive the errors of its fellow-creatures." + +A beam of exulting joy played round the animated countenance of +Mrs. Beauchamp, at these encomiums bestowed on her by a beloved husband, +the most delightful sensations pervaded her heart, and, having breakfasted, +she prepared to visit Charlotte. + +CHAPTER XXI. + + Teach me to feel another's woe, + To hide the fault I see, + That mercy I to others show, + That mercy show to me. POPE. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp was dressed, she began to feel embarrassed at the +thought of beginning an acquaintance with Charlotte, and was distressed +how to make the first visit. "I cannot go without some introduction," +said she, "it will look so like impertinent curiosity." +At length recollecting herself, she stepped into the garden, +and gathering a few fine cucumbers, took them in her hand by way +of apology for her visit. + +A glow of conscious shame vermillioned Charlotte's face as +Mrs. Beauchamp entered. + +"You will pardon me, Madam," said she, "for not having before paid my +respects to so amiable a neighbour; but we English people always keep up +that reserve which is the characteristic of our nation wherever we go. +I have taken the liberty to bring you a few cucumbers, for I observed +you had none in your garden." + +Charlotte, though naturally polite and well-bred, was so confused +she could hardly speak. Her kind visitor endeavoured to relieve +her by not noticing her embarrassment. "I am come, Madam," +continued she, "to request you will spend the day with me. +I shall be alone; and, as we are both strangers in this country, +we may hereafter be extremely happy in each other's friendship." + +"Your friendship, Madam," said Charlotte blushing, "is an honour +to all who are favoured with it. Little as I have seen of this +part of the world, I am no stranger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness +of heart and known humanity: but my friendship--" She paused, +glanced her eye upon her own visible situation, and, spite of her +endeavours to suppress them, burst into tears. + +Mrs. Beauchamp guessed the source from whence those tears flowed. +"You seem unhappy, Madam," said she: "shall I be thought worthy +your confidence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, +and rest on my assurances to exert my utmost power to serve you." +Charlotte returned a look of gratitude, but could not speak, +and Mrs. Beauchamp continued--"My heart was interested in your +behalf the first moment I saw you, and I only lament I had not made +earlier overtures towards an acquaintance; but I flatter myself you +will henceforth consider me as your friend." + +"Oh Madam!" cried Charlotte, "I have forfeited the good opinion +of all my friends; I have forsaken them, and undone myself." + +"Come, come, my dear," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "you must not indulge these +gloomy thoughts: you are not I hope so miserable as you imagine yourself: +endeavour to be composed, and let me be favoured with your company +at dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your friend, +and repose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you it shall +not be abused." She then arose, and bade her good morning. + +At the dining hour Charlotte repaired to Mrs. Beauchamp's, +and during dinner assumed as composed an aspect as possible; +but when the cloth was removed, she summoned all her resolution +and determined to make Mrs. Beauchamp acquainted with every +circumstance preceding her unfortunate elopement, and the earnest +desire she had to quit a way of life so repugnant to her feelings. + +With the benignant aspect of an angel of mercy did Mrs. Beauchamp listen +to the artless tale: she was shocked to the soul to find how large +a share La Rue had in the seduction of this amiable girl, and a tear fell, +when she reflected so vile a woman was now the wife of her father. +When Charlotte had finished, she gave her a little time to collect +her scattered spirits, and then asked her if she had never written +to her friends. + +"Oh yes, Madam," said she, "frequently: but I have broke their hearts: +they are either dead or have cast me off for ever, for I have never +received a single line from them. " + +"I rather suspect," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "they have never had +your letters: but suppose you were to hear from them, and they were +willing to receive you, would you then leave this cruel Montraville, +and return to them?" + +"Would I!" said Charlotte, clasping her hands; "would not +the poor sailor, tost on a tempestuous ocean, threatened every +moment with death, gladly return to the shore he had left to trust +to its deceitful calmness? Oh, my dear Madam, I would return, +though to do it I were obliged to walk barefoot over a burning desart, +and beg a scanty pittance of each traveller to support my existence. +I would endure it all chearfully, could I but once more see my dear, +blessed mother, hear her pronounce my pardon, and bless me before I died; +but alas! I shall never see her more; she has blotted the ungrateful +Charlotte from her remembrance, and I shall sink to the grave loaded +with her's and my father's curse." + +Mrs. Beauchamp endeavoured to sooth her. "You shall write to them again," +said she, "and I will see that the letter is sent by the first packet +that sails for England; in the mean time keep up your spirits, +and hope every thing, by daring to deserve it." + +She then turned the conversation, and Charlotte having taken a cup +of tea, wished her benevolent friend a good evening. + +CHAPTER XXII. + + SORROWS OF THE HEART. + +WHEN Charlotte got home she endeavoured to collect her thoughts, +and took up a pen in order to address those dear parents, whom, +spite of her errors, she still loved with the utmost tenderness, +but vain was every effort to write with the least coherence; +her tears fell so fast they almost blinded her; and as she +proceeded to describe her unhappy situation, she became so +agitated that she was obliged to give over the attempt and retire +to bed, where, overcome with the fatigue her mind had undergone, +she fell into a slumber which greatly refreshed her, and she arose +in the morning with spirits more adequate to the painful task she +had to perform, and, after several attempts, at length concluded +the following letter to her mother-- + + TO MRS. TEMPLE. + NEW-YORK. + +"Will my once kind, my ever beloved mother, deign to receive a letter +from her guilty, but repentant child? or has she, justly incensed +at my ingratitude, driven the unhappy Charlotte from her remembrance? +Alas! thou much injured mother! shouldst thou even disown me, +I dare not complain, because I know I have deserved it: but yet, +believe me, guilty as I am, and cruelly as I have disappointed the hopes +of the fondest parents, that ever girl had, even in the moment when, +forgetful of my duty, I fled from you and happiness, even then I loved +you most, and my heart bled at the thought of what you would suffer. +Oh! never, never! whilst I have existence, will the agony of that moment +be erased from my memory. It seemed like the separation of soul and body. +What can I plead in excuse for my conduct? alas! nothing! +That I loved my seducer is but too true! yet powerful as that passion +is when operating in a young heart glowing with sensibility, +it never would have conquered my affection to you, my beloved parents, +had I not been encouraged, nay, urged to take the fatally imprudent step, +by one of my own sex, who, under the mask of friendship, +drew me on to ruin. Yet think not your Charlotte was so lost +as to voluntarily rush into a life of infamy; no, my dear mother, +deceived by the specious appearance of my betrayer, and every +suspicion lulled asleep by the most solemn promises of marriage, +I thought not those promises would so easily be forgotten. +I never once reflected that the man who could stoop to seduction, +would not hesitate to forsake the wretched object of his passion, +whenever his capricious heart grew weary of her tenderness. +When we arrived at this place, I vainly expected him to fulfil +his engagements, but was at last fatally convinced he had never +intended to make me his wife, or if he had once thought of it, +his mind was now altered. I scorned to claim from his humanity what I +could not obtain from his love: I was conscious of having forfeited +the only gem that could render me respectable in the eye of the world. +I locked my sorrows in my own bosom, and bore my injuries in silence. +But how shall I proceed? This man, this cruel Montraville, +for whom I sacrificed honour, happiness, and the love of my friends, +no longer looks on me with affection, but scorns the credulous girl +whom his art has made miserable. Could you see me, my dear parents, +without society, without friends, stung with remorse, and (I feel +the burning blush of shame die my cheeks while I write it) +tortured with the pangs of disappointed love; cut to the soul +by the indifference of him, who, having deprived me of every +other comfort, no longer thinks it worth his while to sooth +the heart where he has planted the thorn of never-ceasing regret. +My daily employment is to think of you and weep, to pray for your +happiness and deplore my own folly: my nights are scarce more happy, +for if by chance I close my weary eyes, and hope some small +forgetfulness of sorrow, some little time to pass in sweet oblivion, +fancy, still waking, wafts me home to you: I see your beloved forms, +I kneel and hear the blessed words of peace and pardon. +Extatic joy pervades my soul; I reach my arms to catch your dear embraces; +the motion chases the illusive dream; I wake to real misery. +At other times I see my father angry and frowning, point to +horrid caves, where, on the cold damp ground, in the agonies of death, +I see my dear mother and my revered grand-father. I strive to raise you; +you push me from you, and shrieking cry--"Charlotte, thou hast +murdered me!" Horror and despair tear every tortured nerve; +I start, and leave my restless bed, weary and unrefreshed. + +"Shocking as these reflexions are, I have yet one more +dreadful than the rest. Mother, my dear mother! do not let +me quite break your heart when I tell you, in a few months I +shall bring into the world an innocent witness of my guilt. +Oh my bleeding heart, I shall bring a poor little helpless creature, +heir to infamy and shame. + +"This alone has urged me once more to address you, to interest +you in behalf of this poor unborn, and beg you to extend your +protection to the child of your lost Charlotte; for my own part I +have wrote so often, so frequently have pleaded for forgiveness, +and entreated to be received once more beneath the paternal roof, +that having received no answer, not even one line, I much fear you +have cast me from you for ever. + +"But sure you cannot refuse to protect my innocent infant: +it partakes not of its mother's guilt. Oh my father, oh beloved mother, +now do I feel the anguish I inflicted on your hearts recoiling +with double force upon my own. + +"If my child should be a girl (which heaven forbid) tell her +the unhappy fate of her mother, and teach her to avoid my errors; +if a boy, teach him to lament my miseries, but tell him not who +inflicted them, lest in wishing to revenge his mother's injuries, +he should wound the peace of his father. + +"And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardians of my infancy, farewell. +I feel I never more must hope to see you; the anguish of my heart +strikes at the strings of life, and in a short time I shall be at rest. +Oh could I but receive your blessing and forgiveness before I died, +it would smooth my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed +foretaste of a happy eternity. I beseech you, curse me not, +my adored parents, but let a tear of pity and pardon fall to the memory +of your lost CHARLOTTE. + + CHAPTER XXIII. + + A MAN MAY SMILE, AND SMILE, + AND BE A VILLAIN. + +WHILE Charlotte was enjoying some small degree of comfort +in the consoling friendship of Mrs. Beauchamp, Montraville was +advancing rapidly in his affection towards Miss Franklin. +Julia was an amiable girl; she saw only the fair side of his character; +she possessed an independent fortune, and resolved to be happy +with the man of her heart, though his rank and fortune were by no +means so exalted as she had a right to expect; she saw the passion +which Montraville struggled to conceal; she wondered at his timidity, +but imagined the distance fortune had placed between them occasioned +his backwardness, and made every advance which strict prudence +and a becoming modesty would permit. Montraville saw with pleasure +he was not indifferent to her, but a spark of honour which animated +his bosom would not suffer him to take advantage of her partiality. +He was well acquainted with Charlotte's situation, and he thought +there would be a double cruelty in forsaking her at such a time; +and to marry Miss Franklin, while honour, humanity, every sacred law, +obliged him still to protect and support Charlotte, was a baseness +which his soul shuddered at. + +He communicated his uneasiness to Belcour: it was the very +thing this pretended friend had wished. "And do you really," +said he, laughing, "hesitate at marrying the lovely Julia, +and becoming master of her fortune, because a little foolish, +fond girl chose to leave her friends, and run away with you to America. +Dear Montraville, act more like a man of sense; this whining, +pining Charlotte, who occasions you so much uneasiness, would have +eloped with somebody else if she had not with you." + +"Would to heaven," said Montraville, "I had never seen her; +my regard for her was but the momentary passion of desire, but I +feel I shall love and revere Julia Franklin as long as I live; +yet to leave poor Charlotte in her present situation would be +cruel beyond description." + +"Oh my good sentimental friend," said Belcour, "do you imagine +no body has a right to provide for the brat but yourself." + +Montraville started. "Sure," said he, "you cannot mean to insinuate +that Charlotte is false." + +"I don't insinuate it," said Belcour, "I know it." + +Montraville turned pale as ashes. "Then there is no faith +in woman," said he. + +"While I thought you attached to her," said Belcour with an air +of indifference, "I never wished to make you uneasy by mentioning +her perfidy, but as I know you love and are beloved by Miss Franklin, +I was determined not to let these foolish scruples of honour step +between you and happiness, or your tenderness for the peace of a +perfidious girl prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honour." + +"Good heavens!" said Montraville, "what poignant reflections +does a man endure who sees a lovely woman plunged in infamy, +and is conscious he was her first seducer; but are you certain +of what you say, Belcour?" + +"So far," replied he, "that I myself have received advances from +her which I would not take advantage of out of regard to you: +but hang it, think no more about her. I dined at Franklin's to-day, +and Julia bid me seek and bring you to tea: so come along, my lad, +make good use of opportunity, and seize the gifts of fortune while +they are within your reach." Montraville was too much agitated +to pass a happy evening even in the company of Julia Franklin: +he determined to visit Charlotte early the next morning, +tax her with her falsehood, and take an everlasting leave of her; +but when the morning came, he was commanded on duty, and for six +weeks was prevented from putting his design in execution. At length +he found an hour to spare, and walked out to spend it with Charlotte: +it was near four o'clock in the afternoon when he arrived at her cottage; +she was not in the parlour, and without calling the servant +he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in her bed room. +He opened the door, and the first object that met his eyes was +Charlotte asleep on the bed, and Belcour by her side. + +"Death and distraction," said he, stamping, "this is too much. +Rise, villain, and defend yourself." Belcour sprang from the bed. +The noise awoke Charlotte; terrified at the furious appearance +of Montraville, and seeing Belcour with him in the chamber, +she caught hold of his arm as he stood by the bed-side, and eagerly +asked what was the matter. + +"Treacherous, infamous girl," said he, "can you ask? How came he here?" +pointing to Belcour. + +"As heaven is my witness," replied she weeping, 'I do not know. +I have not seen him for these three weeks." + +"Then you confess he sometimes visits you?" + +"He came sometimes by your desire." + +"'Tis false; I never desired him to come, and you know I did not: +but mark me, Charlotte, from this instant our connexion is at an end. +Let Belcour, or any other of your favoured lovers, take you and +provide for you; I have done with you for ever." + +He was then going to leave her; but starting wildly from the bed, +she threw herself on her knees before him, protesting her innocence +and entreating him not to leave her. "Oh Montraville," said she, +"kill me, for pity's sake kill me, but do not doubt my fidelity. +Do not leave me in this horrid situation; for the sake of your +unborn child, oh! spurn not the wretched mother from you. " + +"Charlotte," said he, with a firm voice, "I shall take care that neither +you nor your child want any thing in the approaching painful hour; +but we meet no more." He then endeavoured to raise her from the ground; +but in vain; she clung about his knees, entreating him to believe +her innocent, and conjuring Belcour to clear up the dreadful mystery. + +Belcour cast on Montraville a smile of contempt: it irritated him +almost to madness; he broke from the feeble arms of the distressed girl; +she shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor. + +Montraville instantly left the house and returned hastily to the city. + + CHAPTER XXIV. + + MYSTERY DEVELOPED. + +UNFORTUNATELY for Charlotte, about three weeks before this +unhappy rencontre, Captain Beauchamp, being ordered to Rhode-Island, +his lady had accompanied him, so that Charlotte was deprived +of her friendly advice and consoling society. The afternoon on +which Montraville had visited her she had found herself languid +and fatigued, and after making a very slight dinner had lain down +to endeavour to recruit her exhausted spirits, and, contrary to +her expectations, had fallen asleep. She had not long been lain down, +when Belcour arrived, for he took every opportunity of visiting her, +and striving to awaken her resentment against Montraville. +He enquired of the servant where her mistress was, and being +told she was asleep, took up a book to amuse himself: +having sat a few minutes, he by chance cast his eyes towards the road, +and saw Montraville approaching; he instantly conceived the diabolical +scheme of ruining the unhappy Charlotte in his opinion for ever; +he therefore stole softly up stairs, and laying himself by her +side with the greatest precaution, for fear she should awake, +was in that situation discovered by his credulous friend. + +When Montraville spurned the weeping Charlotte from him, and left +her almost distracted with terror and despair, Belcour raised her from +the floor, and leading her down stairs, assumed the part of a tender, +consoling friend; she listened to the arguments he advanced +with apparent composure; but this was only the calm of a moment: +the remembrance of Montraville's recent cruelty again rushed +upon her mind: she pushed him from her with some violence, +and crying--"Leave me, Sir, I beseech you leave me, for much I fear +you have been the cause of my fidelity being suspected; go, leave me +to the accumulated miseries my own imprudence has brought upon me." + +She then left him with precipitation, and retiring to her own apartment, +threw herself on the bed, and gave vent to an agony of grief which it +is impossible to describe. + +It now occurred to Belcour that she might possibly write to Montraville, +and endeavour to convince him of her innocence: he was well aware +of her pathetic remonstrances, and, sensible of the tenderness of +Montraville's heart, resolved to prevent any letters ever reaching him: +he therefore called the servant, and, by the powerful persuasion +of a bribe, prevailed with her to promise whatever letters her +mistress might write should be sent to him. He then left a polite, +tender note for Charlotte, and returned to New-York. His first +business was to seek Montraville, and endeavour to convince him +that what had happened would ultimately tend to his happiness: +he found him in his apartment, solitary, pensive, and wrapped +in disagreeable reflexions. + +"Why how now, whining, pining lover?" said he, clapping him on +the shoulder. Montraville started; a momentary flush of resentment +crossed his cheek, but instantly gave place to a death-like paleness, +occasioned by painful remembrance remembrance awakened by that monitor, +whom, though we may in vain endeavour, we can never entirely silence. + +"Belcour," said he, "you have injured me in a tender point." +"Prithee, Jack," replied Belcour, "do not make a serious matter of it: +how could I refuse the girl's advances? and thank heaven she is +not your wife." + +"True," said Montraville; "but she was innocent when I first knew her. +It was I seduced her, Belcour. Had it not been for me, she had +still been virtuous and happy in the affection and protection +of her family." + +"Pshaw," replied Belcour, laughing, "if you had not taken advantage +of her easy nature, some other would, and where is the difference, pray?" + +"I wish I had never seen her," cried he passionately, and starting +from his seat. "Oh that cursed French woman," added he with vehemence, +"had it not been for her, I might have been happy--" He paused. + +"With Julia Franklin," said Belcour. The name, like a sudden spark +of electric fire, seemed for a moment to suspend his faculties-- +for a moment he was transfixed; but recovering, he caught +Belcour's hand, and cried--'Stop! stop! I beseech you, name not +the lovely Julia and the wretched Montraville in the same breath. +I am a seducer, a mean, ungenerous seducer of unsuspecting innocence. +I dare not hope that purity like her's would stoop to unite itself +with black, premeditated guilt: yet by heavens I swear, Belcour, +I thought I loved the lost, abandoned Charlotte till I saw Julia-- +I thought I never could forsake her; but the heart is deceitful, and I +now can plainly discriminate between the impulse of a youthful passion, +and the pure flame of disinterested affection." + +At that instant Julia Franklin passed the window, leaning on her +uncle's arm. She curtseyed as she passed, and, with the bewitching +smile of modest chearfulness, cried--"Do you bury yourselves +in the house this fine evening, gents?" There was something in +the voice! the manner! the look! that was altogether irresistible. +"Perhaps she wishes my company," said Montraville mentally, +as he snatched up his hat: "if I thought she loved me, I would confess +my errors, and trust to her generosity to pity and pardon me." +He soon overtook her, and offering her his arm, they sauntered to pleasant +but unfrequented walks. Belcour drew Mr. Franklin on one side and entered +into a political discourse: they walked faster than the young people, +and Belcour by some means contrived entirely to lose sight of them. +It was a fine evening in the beginning of autumn; the last remains +of day-light faintly streaked the western sky, while the moon, +with pale and virgin lustre in the room of gorgeous gold and purple, +ornamented the canopy of heaven with silver, fleecy clouds, +which now and then half hid her lovely face, and, by partly concealing, +heightened every beauty; the zephyrs whispered softly through the trees, +which now began to shed their leafy honours; a solemn silence reigned: +and to a happy mind an evening such as this would give serenity, and calm, +unruffled pleasure; but to Montraville, while it soothed the turbulence +of his passions, it brought increase of melancholy reflections. +Julia was leaning on his arm: he took her hand in his, +and pressing it tenderly, sighed deeply, but continued silent. +Julia was embarrassed; she wished to break a silence so unaccountable, +but was unable; she loved Montraville, she saw he was unhappy, +and wished to know the cause of his uneasiness, but that innate modesty, +which nature has implanted in the female breast, prevented her enquiring. +"I am bad company, Miss Franklin," said he, at last recollecting himself; +"but I have met with something to-day that has greatly distressed me, +and I cannot shake off the disagreeable impression it has made +on my mind. " + +"I am sorry," she replied, "that you have any cause of inquietude. +I am sure if you were as happy as you deserve, and as all your friends +wish you--" She hesitated. "And might l," replied he with some animation, +"presume to rank the amiable Julia in that number?" + +"Certainly," said she, "the service you have rendered me, +the knowledge of your worth, all combine to make me esteem you." + +"Esteem, my lovely Julia," said he passionately, "is but a poor cold word. +I would if I dared, if I thought I merited your attention--but no, +I must not--honour forbids. I am beneath your notice, Julia, I am +miserable and cannot hope to be otherwise." "Alas!" said Julia, +"I pity you." + +"Oh thou condescending charmer," said he, 'how that sweet word +chears my sad heart. Indeed if you knew all, you would pity; +but at the same time I fear you would despise me." + +Just then they were again joined by Mr. Franklin and Belcour. +It had interrupted an interesting discourse. They found it impossible +to converse on indifferent subjects, and proceeded home in silence. +At Mr. Franklin's door Montraville again pressed Julia's hand, +and faintly articulating 'good night," retired to his lodgings +dispirited and wretched, from a consciousness that he deserved +not the affection, with which he plainly saw he was honoured. + + CHAPTER XXV. + + RECEPTION OF A LETTER. + +"AND where now is our poor Charlotte?" said Mr. Temple one evening, +as the cold blasts of autumn whistled rudely over the heath, +and the yellow appearance of the distant wood, spoke the near +approach of winter. In vain the chearful fire blazed on the hearth, +in vain was he surrounded by all the comforts of life; the parent +was still alive in his heart, and when he thought that perhaps +his once darling child was ere this exposed to all the miseries +of want in a distant land, without a friend to sooth and comfort her, +without the benignant look of compassion to chear, or the angelic +voice of pity to pour the balm of consolation on her wounded heart; +when he thought of this, his whole soul dissolved in tenderness; +and while he wiped the tear of anguish from the eye of his patient, +uncomplaining Lucy, he struggled to suppress the sympathizing drop +that started in his own. + +"Oh, my poor girl," said Mrs. Temple, "how must she be altered, +else surely she would have relieved our agonizing minds by one line +to say she lived--to say she had not quite forgot the parents +who almost idolized her." + +"Gracious heaven," said Mr. Temple, starting from his seat, +l,who would wish to be a father, to experience the agonizing pangs +inflicted on a parent's heart by the ingratitude of a child?" +Mrs. Temple wept: her father took her hand; he would have said, +"be comforted my child," but the words died on his tongue. +The sad silence that ensued was interrupted by a loud rap at the door. +In a moment a servant entered with a letter in his hand. + +Mrs. Temple took it from him: she cast her eyes upon the superscription; +she knew the writing. "'Tis Charlotte," said she, eagerly breaking +the seal, "she has not quite forgot us." But before she had +half gone through the contents, a sudden sickness seized her; +she grew cold and giddy, and puffing it into her husband's hand, +she cried--"Read it: I cannot." Mr. Temple attempted to read +it aloud, but frequently paused to give vent to his tears. +"My poor deluded child," said he, when he had finished. + +"Oh, shall we not forgive the dear penitent?" said Mrs. Temple. +"We must, we will, my love; she is willing to return, and 'tis +our duty to receive her." + +"Father of mercy," said Mr. Eldridge, raising his clasped hands, +"let me but live once more to see the dear wanderer restored to her +afflicted parents, and take me from this world of sorrow whenever +it seemeth best to thy wisdom." + +"Yes, we will receive her," said Mr. Temple; "we will endeavour to heal +her wounded spirit, and speak peace and comfort to her agitated soul. +I will write to her to return immediately.' + +"Oh!" said Mrs. Temple, "I would if possible fly to her, +support and chear the dear sufferer in the approaching hour +of distress, and tell her how nearly penitence is allied to virtue. +Cannot we go and conduct her home, my love?" continued she, +laying her hand on his arm. "My father will surely forgive our +absence if we go to bring home his darling." + +"You cannot go, my Lucy," said Mr. Temple: "the delicacy of your +frame would but poorly sustain the fatigue of a long voyage; +but I will go and bring the gentle penitent to your arms: +we may still see many years of happiness." + +The struggle in the bosom of Mrs. Temple between maternal and conjugal +tenderness was long and painful. At length the former triumphed, +and she consented that her husband should set forward to New-York +by the first opportunity: she wrote to her Charlotte in the tenderest, +most consoling manner, and looked forward to the happy hour, +when she should again embrace her, with the most animated hope. + + CHAPTER XXVI. + + WHAT MIGHT BE EXPECTED. + +IN the mean time the passion Montraville had conceived for Julia +Franklin daily encreased, and he saw evidently how much he was +beloved by that amiable girl: he was likewise strongly prepossessed +with an idea of Charlotte's perfidy. What wonder then if he gave +himself up to the delightful sensation which pervaded his bosom; +and finding no obstacle arise to oppose his happiness, he solicited +and obtained the hand of Julia. A few days before his marriage +he thus addressed Belcour: + +"Though Charlotte, by her abandoned conduct, has thrown herself from +my protection, I still hold myself bound to support her till relieved +from her present condition, and also to provide for the child. +I do not intend to see her again, but I will place a sum of money +in your hands, which will amply supply her with every convenience; +but should she require more, let her have it, and I will see it repaid. +I wish I could prevail on the poor deluded girl to return to her friends: +she was an only child, and I make no doubt but that they would +joyfully receive her; it would shock me greatly to see her henceforth +leading a life of infamy, as I should always accuse myself of being +the primary cause of all her errors. If she should chuse to remain +under your protection, be kind to her, Belcour, I conjure you. +Let not satiety prompt you to treat her in such a manner, +as may drive her to actions which necessity might urge her to, +while her better reason disapproved them: she shall never want +a friend while I live, but I never more desire to behold her; +her presence would be always painful to me, and a glance from her +eye would call the blush of conscious guilt into my cheek. + +"I will write a letter to her, which you may deliver when I am gone, +as I shall go to St. Eustatia the day after my union with Julia, +who will accompany me." + +Belcour promised to fulfil the request of his friend, though nothing +was farther from his intentions, than the least design of delivering +the letter, or making Charlotte acquainted with the provision +Montraville had made for her; he was bent on the complete ruin +of the unhappy girl, and supposed, by reducing her to an entire +dependance on him, to bring her by degrees to consent to gratify +his ungenerous passion. + +The evening before the day appointed for the nuptials of +Montraville and Julia, the former refired early to his apartment; +and ruminating on the past scenes of his life, suffered the +keenest remorse in the remembrance of Charlotte's seduction. +"Poor girl, " said he, "I will at least write and bid her adieu; +I will too endeavour to awaken that love of virtue in her bosom +which her unfortunate attachment to me has extinguished." +He took up the pen and began to write, but words were denied him. +How could he address the woman whom he had seduced, and whom, though he +thought unworthy his tenderness, he was about to bid adieu for ever? +How should he tell her that he was going to abjure her, to enter +into the most indissoluble ties with another, and that he could not +even own the infant which she bore as his child? Several letters +were begun and destroyed: at length he completed the following: + + TO CHARLOTTE. + +"Though I have taken up my pen to address you, my poor injured girl, +I feel I am inadequate to the task; yet, however painful the endeavour, +I could not resolve upon leaving you for ever without one kind +line to bid you adieu, to tell you how my heart bleeds at the +remembrance of what you was, before you saw the hated Montraville. +Even now imagination paints the scene, when, torn by contending passions, +when, struggling between love and duty, you fainted in my arms, +and I lifted you into the chaise: I see the agony of your mind, +when, recovering, you found yourself on the road to Portsmouth: +but how, my gentle girl, how could you, when so justly impressed +with the value of virtue, how could you, when loving as I thought +you loved me, yield to the solicitations of Belcour? + +"Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, villain that I am, +who first taught you the allurements of guilty pleasure; it was I who +dragged you from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy; +and can I, dare I tell you, it was not love prompted to the horrid deed? +No, thou dear, fallen angel, believe your repentant Montraville, +when he tells you the man who truly loves will never betray the object +of his affection. Adieu, Charlotte: could you still find charms +in a life of unoffend-ing innocence, return to your parents; +you shall never want the means of support both for yourself and child. +Oh! gracious heaven! may that child be entirely free from the vices +of its father and the weakness of its mother. + +"To-morrow--but no, I cannot tell you what to-morrow will produce; +Belcour will inform you: he also has cash for you, which I beg +you will ask for whenever you may want it. Once more adieu: +believe me could I hear you was returned to your friends, +and enjoying that tranquillity of which I have robbed you, +I should be as completely happy as even you, in your fondest hours, +could wish me, but till then a gloom will obscure the brightest +prospects of MONTRAVILLE." + +After he had sealed this letter he threw himself on the bed, and enjoyed +a few hours repose. Early in the morning Belcour tapped at his door: +he arose hastily, and prepared to meet his Julia at the altar. + +"This is the letter to Charlotte," said he, giving it to Belcour: +"take it to her when we are gone to Eustatia; and I conjure you, +my dear friend, not to use any sophistical arguments to prevent +her return to virtue; but should she incline that way, encourage her +in the thought, and assist her to put her design in execution. + + CHAPTER XXVII. + + Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head, + Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew. + +CHARLOTTE had now been left almost three months a prey to her own +melancholy reflexions--sad companions indeed; nor did any one +break in upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called +to enquire after her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavoured +to bring Montraville to hear reason; and once, but only once, +was her mind cheared by the receipt of an affectionate letter from +Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had she wrote to her perfidious seducer, +and with the most persuasive eloquence endeavoured to convince him +of her innocence; but these letters were never suffered to reach +the hands of Montraville, or they must, though on the very eve +of marriage, have prevented his deserting the wretched girl. +Real anguish of heart had in a great measure faded her charms, +her cheeks were pale from want of rest, and her eyes, by frequent, +indeed almost continued weeping, were sunk and heavy. +Sometimes a gleam of hope would play about her heart when she +thought of her parents--"They cannot surely," she would say, +"refuse to forgive me; or should they deny their pardon to me, +they win not hate my innocent infant on account of its mother's errors." +How often did the poor mourner wish for the consoling presence +of the benevolent Mrs. Beauchamp. + +"If she were here," she would cry, "she would certainly comfort me, +and sooth the distraction of my soul. " + +She was sitting one afternoon, wrapped in these melancholy reflexions, +when she was interrupted by the entrance of Belcour. Great as +the alteration was which incessant sorrow had made on her person, +she was still interesting, still charming; and the unhallowed flame, +which had urged Belcour to plant dissension between her and Montraville, +still raged in his bosom: he was determined, if possible, +to make her his mistress; nay, he had even conceived the diabolical +scheme of taking her to New-York, and making her appear in every +public place where it was likely she should meet Montraville, +that he might be a witness to his unmanly triumph. + +When he entered the room where Charlotte was sitting, +he assumed the look of tender, consolatory friendship. +"And how does my lovely Charlotte?" said he, taking her hand: +"I fear you are not so well as I could wish." + +"I am not well, Mr. Belcour," said she, "very far from it; +but the pains and infirmities of the body I could easily bear, nay, +submit to them with patience, were they not aggravated by the most +insupportable anguish of my mind." + +"You are not happy, Charlotte," said he, with a look +of well-dissembled sorrow. + +"Alas!" replied she mournfully, shaking her head, "how can I be happy, +deserted and forsaken as I am, without a friend of my own sex +to whom I can unburthen my full heart, nay, my fidelity suspected +by the very man for whom I have sacrificed every thing valuable +in life, for whom I have made myself a poor despised creature, +an outcast from society, an object only of contempt and pity." + +"You think too meanly of yourself, Miss Temple: +there is no one who would dare to treat you with contempt: +au who have the pleasure of knowing you must admire and esteem. +You are lonely here, my dear girl; give me leave to conduct you +to New-York, where the agreeable society of some ladies, to whom +I will introduce you, will dispel these sad thoughts, and I shall +again see returning chearfulness animate those lovely features." + +"Oh never! never!" cried Charlotte, emphatically: "the virtuous part +of my sex will scorn me, and I will never associate with infamy. +No, Belcour, here let me hide my shame and sorrow, here let me +spend my few remaining days in obscurity, unknown and unpitied, +here let me die unlamented, and my name sink to oblivion." +Here her tears stopped her utterance. Belcour was awed to silence: +he dared not interrupt her; and after a moment's pause she +proceeded--"I once had conceived the thought of going to New-York +to seek out the still dear, though cruel, ungenerous Montraville, +to throw myself at his feet, and entreat his compassion; +heaven knows, not for myself; if I am no longer beloved, I will +not be indebted to his pity to redress my injuries, but I would +have knelt and entreated him not to forsake my poor unborn--" +She could say no more; a crimson glow rushed over her cheeks, +and covering her face with her hands, she sobbed aloud. + +Something like humanity was awakened in Belcour's breast by this +pathetic speech: he arose and walked towards the window; +but the selfish passion which had taken possession of his heart, +soon stifled these finer emotions; and he thought if Charlotte +was once convinced she had no longer any dependance on Montraville, +she would more readily throw herself on his protection. +Determined, therefore, to inform her of all that had happened, +he again resumed his seat; and finding she began to be more composed, +enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since the unfortunate +recontre in her bed chamber. + +"Ah no," said she. "I fear I shall never hear from him again." + +"I am greatly of your opinion," said Belcour, "for he has been +for some time past greatly attached--" + +At the word "attached" a death-like paleness overspread the countenance +of Charlotte, but she applied to some hartshorn which stood beside her, +and Belcour proceeded. + +"He has been for some time past greatly attached to one Miss Franklin, +a pleasing lively girl, with a large fortune." + +"She may be richer, may be handsomer," cried Charlotte, "but cannot +love him so well. Oh may she beware of his art, and not trust him +too far as I have done." + +"He addresses her publicly," said he, "and it was rumoured they +were to be married before he sailed for Eustatia, whither his +company is ordered." + +"Belcour," said Charlotte, seizing his hand, and gazing at him earnestly, +while her pale lips trembled with convulsive agony, "tell me, +and tell me truly, I beseech you, do you think he can be such +a villain as to marry another woman, and leave me to die with want +and misery in a strange land: tell me what you think; I can bear +it very well; I will not shrink from this heaviest stroke of fate; +I have deserved my afflictions, and I will endeavour to bear them +as I ought." + +"I fear," said Belcour, "he can be that villain." + +"Perhaps," cried she, eagerly interrupting him, "perhaps he is +married already: come, let me know the worst," continued she +with an affected look of composure: "you need not be afraid, +I shall not send the fortunate lady a bowl of poison." + +"Well then, my dear girl," said he, deceived by her appearance, +"they were married on Thursday, and yesterday morning they +sailed for Eustatia." + +"Married--gone--say you?" cried she in a distracted accent, "what without +a last farewell, without one thought on my unhappy situation! +Oh Montraville, may God forgive your perfidy." She shrieked, +and Belcour sprang forward just in time to prevent her falling +to the floor. + +Alarming faintings now succeeded each other, and she was conveyed to +her bed, from whence she earnestly prayed she might never more arise. +Belcour staid with her that night, and in the morning found her in a +high fever. The fits she had been seized with had greatly terrified him; +and confined as she now was to a bed of sickness, she was no longer +an object of desire: it is true for several days he went constantly +to see her, but her pale, emaciated appearance disgusted him: +his visits became less frequent; he forgot the solemn charge given +him by Montraville; he even forgot the money entrusted to his care; +and, the burning blush of indignation and shame tinges my cheek +while I write it, this disgrace to humanity and manhood at length +forgot even the injured Charlotte; and, attracted by the blooming +health of a farmer's daughter, whom he had seen in his frequent +excursions to the country, he left the unhappy girl to sink +unnoticed to the grave, a prey to sickness, grief, and penury; +while he, having triumphed over the virtue of the artless cottager, +rioted in all the intemperance of luxury and lawless pleasure. + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + + A TRIFLING RETROSPECT. + +"BLESS my heart," cries my young, volatile reader, "I shall never have +patience to get through these volumes, there are so many ahs! and ohs! +so much fainting, tears, and distress, I am sick to death of the subject." +My dear, chearful, innocent girl, for innocent I will suppose you to be, +or you would acutely feel the woes of Charlotte, did conscience say, +thus might it have been with me, had not Providence interposed +to snatch me from destruction: therefore, my lively, innocent girl, +I must request your patience: I am writing a tale of truth: +I mean to write it to the heart: but if perchance the heart is +rendered impenetrable by unbounded prosperity, or a continuance +in vice, I expect not my tale to please, nay, I even expect it +will be thrown by with disgust. But softly, gentle fair one; +I pray you throw it not aside till you have perused the whole; +mayhap you may find something therein to repay you for the trouble. +Methinks I see a sarcastic smile sit on your countenance.--"And what," +cry you, "does the conceited author suppose we can glean from these pages, +if Charlotte is held up as an object of terror, to prevent us from +falling into guilty errors? does not La Rue triumph in her shame, +and by adding art to guilt, obtain the affection of a worthy man, +and rise to a station where she is beheld with respect, and chearfully +received into all companies. What then is the moral you would inculcate? +Would you wish us to think that a deviation from virtue, if covered +by art and hypocrisy, is not an object of detestation, but on +the contrary shall raise us to fame and honour? while the hapless +girl who falls a victim to her too great sensibility, shall be loaded +with ignominy and shame?" No, my fair querist, I mean no such thing. +Remember the endeavours of the wicked are often suffered to prosper, +that in the end their fall may be attended with more bitterness of heart; +while the cup of affliction is poured out for wise and salutary ends, +and they who are compelled to drain it even to the bitter dregs, +often find comfort at the bottom; the tear of penitence blots +their offences from the book of fate, and they rise from the heavy, +painful trial, purified and fit for a mansion in the kingdom of eternity. + +Yes, my young friends, the tear of compassion shall fall for the fate +of Charlotte, while the name of La Rue shall be detested and despised. +For Charlotte, the soul melts with sympathy; for La Rue, it feels +nothing but horror and contempt. But perhaps your gay hearts +would rather follow the fortunate Mrs. Crayton through the scenes +of pleasure and dissipation in which she was engaged, than listen to +the complaints and miseries of Charlotte. I will for once oblige you; +I will for once follow her to midnight revels, balls, and scenes +of gaiety, for in such was she constantly engaged. + +I have said her person was lovely; let us add that she was +surrounded by splendor and affluence, and he must know but little +of the world who can wonder, (however faulty such a woman's conduct,) +at her being followed by the men, and her company courted by +the women: in short Mrs. Crayton was the universal favourite: +she set the fashions, she was toasted by all the gentlemen, +and copied by all the ladies. + +Colonel Crayton was a domestic man. Could he be happy with such +a woman? impossible! Remonstrance was vain: he might as well +have preached to the winds, as endeavour to persuade her from +any action, however ridiculous, on which she had set her mind: +in short, after a little ineffectual struggle, he gave up the attempt, +and left her to follow the bent of her own inclinations: +what those were, I think the reader must have seen enough +of her character to form a just idea. Among the number who paid +their devotions at her shrine, she singled one, a young Ensign +of mean birth, indifferent education, and weak intellects. +How such a man came into the army, we hardly know to account for, +and how he afterwards rose to posts of honour is likewise +strange and wonderful. But fortune is blind, and so are those +too frequently who have the power of dispensing her favours: +else why do we see fools and knaves at the very top of the wheel, +while patient merit sinks to the extreme of the opposite abyss. +But we may form a thousand conjectures on this subject, and yet never +hit on the right. Let us therefore endeavour to deserve her smiles, +and whether we succeed or not, we shall feel more innate satisfaction, +than thousands of those who bask in the sunshine of her favour unworthily. +But to return to Mrs. Crayton: this young man, whom I shall distinguish +by the name of Corydon, was the reigning favourite of her heart. +He escorted her to the play, danced with her at every ball, +and when indisposition prevented her going out, it was he alone +who was permitted to chear the gloomy solitude to which she was +obliged to confine herself. Did she ever think of poor Charlotte?-- +if she did, my dear Miss, it was only to laugh at the poor girl's want +of spirit in consenting to be moped up in the country, while Montraville +was enjoying all the pleasures of a gay, dissipated city. +When she heard of his marriage, she smiling said, so there's an end +of Madam Charlotte's hopes. I wonder who will take her now, +or what will become of the little affected prude? + +But as you have lead to the subject, I think we may as well return +to the distressed Charlotte, and not, like the unfeeling Mrs. Crayton, +shut our hearts to the call of humanity. + + CHAPTER XXIX. + + WE GO FORWARD AGAIN. + +THE strength of Charlotte's constitution combatted against her disorder, +and she began slowly to recover, though she still laboured +under a violent depression of spirits: how must that depression +be encreased, when, upon examining her little store, she found +herself reduced to one solitary guinea, and that during her illness +the attendance of an apothecary and nurse, together with many other +unavoidable expences, had involved her in debt, from which she saw +no method of extricating herself. As to the faint hope which she +had entertained of hearing from and being relieved by her parents; +it now entirely forsook her, for it was above four months +since her letter was dispatched, and she had received no answer: +she therefore imagined that her conduct had either entirely alienated +their affection from her, or broken their hearts, and she must +never more hope to receive their blessing. + +Never did any human being wish for death with greater fervency +or with juster cause; yet she had too just a sense of the duties of +the Christian religion to attempt to put a period to her own existence. +"I have but to be patient a little longer," she would cry, "and nature, +fatigued and fainting, will throw off this heavy load of mortality, +and I shall be released from all my sufferings. " + +It was one cold stormy day in the latter end of December, +as Charlotte sat by a handful of fire, the low state of her finances +not allowing her to replenish her stock of fuel, and prudence +teaching her to be careful of what she had, when she was surprised +by the entrance of a farmer's wife, who, without much ceremony, +seated herself, and began this curious harangue. + +"I'm come to see if as how you can pay your rent, because as how we +hear Captain Montable is gone away, and it's fifty to one if he b'ant +killed afore he comes back again; an then, Miss, or Ma'am, or whatever +you may be, as I was saying to my husband, where are we to look +for our money. " + +This was a stroke altogether unexpected by Charlotte: she knew so +little of the ways of the world that she had never bestowed a thought +on the payment for the rent of the house; she knew indeed that she +owed a good deal, but this was never reckoned among the others: +she was thunder-struck; she hardly knew what answer to make, +yet it was absolutely necessary that she should say something; +and judging of the gentleness of every female disposition by her own, +she thought the best way to interest the woman in her favour would +be to tell her candidly to what a situation she was reduced, +and how little probability there was of her ever paying any body. + +Alas poor Charlotte, how confined was her knowledge of human nature, +or she would have been convinced that the only way to insure +the friendship and assistance of your surrounding acquaintance +is to convince them you do not require it, for when once the +petrifying aspect of distress and penury appear, whose qualities, +like Medusa's head, can change to stone all that look upon it; +when once this Gorgon claims acquaintance with us, the phantom +of friendship, that before courted our notice, will vanish into +unsubstantial air, and the whole world before us appear a barren waste. +Pardon me, ye dear spirits of benevolence, whose benign smiles +and chearful-giving hand have strewed sweet flowers on many +a thorny path through which my wayward fate forced me to pass; +think not, that, in condemning the unfeeling texture of the human heart, +I forget the spring from whence flow an the comforts I enjoy: oh no! +I look up to you as to bright constellations, gathering new splendours +from the surrounding darkness; but ah! whilst I adore the benignant +rays that cheared and illumined my heart, I mourn that their influence +cannot extend to all the sons and daughters of affliction. + +"Indeed, Madam," said poor Charlotte in a tremulous accent, "I am at +a loss what to do. Montraville placed me here, and promised to defray +all my expenses: but he has forgot his promise, he has forsaken me, +and I have no friend who has either power or will to relieve me. +Let me hope, as you see my unhappy situation, your charity--" + +"Charity," cried the woman impatiently interrupting her, "charity indeed: +why, Mistress, charity begins at home, and I have seven children +at home, HONEST, LAWFUL children, and it is my duty to keep them; +and do you think I will give away my property to a nasty, +impudent hussey, to maintain her and her bastard; an I was saying +to my husband the other day what will this world come to; +honest women are nothing now-a-days, while the harlotings are set up +for fine ladies, and look upon us no more nor the dirt they walk upon: +but let me tell you, my fine spoken Ma'am, I must have my money; +so seeing as how you can't pay it, why you must troop, +and leave all your fine gimcracks and fal der ralls behind you. +I don't ask for no more nor my right, and nobody shall dare for to go +for to hinder me of it." + +"Oh heavens," cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, 'what will +become of me?" + +"Come on ye!" retorted the unfeeling wretch: "why go to the barracks +and work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers cloaths, +an cook their victuals, and not expect to live in idleness +on honest people's means. Oh I wish I could see the day +when all such cattle were obliged to work hard and eat little; +it's only what they deserve. " + +"Father of mercy," cried Charlotte, "I acknowledge thy correction just; +but prepare me, I beseech thee, for the portion of misery thou +may'st please to lay upon me." + +"Well," said the woman, "I shall go an tell my husband as how you +can't pay; and so d'ye see, Ma'am, get ready to be packing away this +very night, for you should not stay another night in this house, +though I was sure you would lay in the street.' + +Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the anguish of her heart +was too great to permit her to articulate a single word. + + CHAPTER XXX. + + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep, + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep. + +WHEN Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course +she must take, or to whom she could apply, to prevent her perishing +for want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency +of the season. After many perplexed thoughts, she at last +determined to set out for New-York, and enquire out Mrs. Crayton, +from whom she had no doubt but she should obtain immediate relief +as soon as her distress was made known; she had no sooner formed this +resolution than she resolved immediately to put it in execution: +she therefore wrote the following little billet to Mrs. Crayton, +thinking if she should have company with her it would be better +to send it in than to request to see her. + TO MRS. CRAYTON. +"MADAM, + +"When we left our native land, that dear, happy land which now contains +all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same; +we both, pardon me, Madam, if I say, we both too easily followed +the impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on +a tempestuous ocean, where mine has been wrecked and lost for ever; +you have been more fortunate--you are united to a man of honour +and humanity, united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, +and admired, and surrounded by innumerable blessings of which I +am bereaved, enjoying those pleasures which have fled my bosom never +to return; alas! sorrow and deep regret have taken their place. +Behold me, Madam, a poor forsaken wanderer, who has no where to +lay her weary head, wherewith to supply the wants of nature, +or to shield her from the inclemency of the weather. To you I sue, +to you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to be received as +an intimate or an equal; only for charity's sweet sake receive me +into your hospitable mansion, allot me the meanest apartment in it, +and let me breath out my soul in prayers for your happiness; +I cannot, I feel I cannot long bear up under the accumulated woes +that pour in upon me; but oh! my dear Madam, for the love of heaven +suffer me not to expire in the street; and when I am at peace, +as soon I shall be, extend your compassion to my helpless offspring, +should it please heaven that it should survive its unhappy mother. +A gleam of joy breaks in on my benighted soul while I reflect that you +cannot, will not refuse your protection to the heart-broken. CHARLOTTE." + +When Charlotte had finished this letter, late as it was in the afternoon, +and though the snow began to fall very fast, she tied up a few +necessaries which she had prepared against her expected confinement, +and terrified lest she should be again exposed to the insults +of her barbarous landlady, more dreadful to her wounded spirit +than either storm or darkness, she set forward for New-York. + +It may be asked by those, who, in a work of this kind, love to cavil +at every trifling omission, whether Charlotte did not possess +any valuable of which she could have disposed, and by that means +have supported herself till Mrs. Beauchamp's return, when she would +have been certain of receiving every tender attention which compassion +and friendship could dictate: but let me entreat these wise, +penetrating gentlemen to reflect, that when Charlotte left England, +it was in such haste that there was no time to purchase any thing +more than what was wanted for immediate use on the voyage, +and after her arrival at New-York, Montraville's affection soon began +to decline, so that her whole wardrobe consisted of only necessaries, +and as to baubles, with which fond lovers often load their mistresses, +she possessed not one, except a plain gold locket of small value, +which contained a lock of her mother's hair, and which the greatest +extremity of want could not have forced her to part with. + +I hope, Sir, your prejudices are now removed in regard to the +probability of my story? Oh they are. Well then, with your leave, +I will proceed. + +The distance from the house which our suffering heroine occupied, +to New-York, was not very great, yet the snow fen so fast, and the cold +so intense, that, being unable from her situation to walk quick, +she found herself almost sinking with cold and fatigue before +she reached the town; her garments, which were merely suitable +to the summer season, being an undress robe of plain white muslin, +were wet through, and a thin black cloak and bonnet, very improper +habiliments for such a climate, but poorly defended her from the cold. +In this situation she reached the city, and enquired of a foot +soldier whom she met, the way to Colonel Crayton's. + +"Bless you, my sweet lady," said the soldier with a voice and look +of compassion, "I will shew you the way with all my heart; but if you +are going to make a petition to Madam Crayton it is all to no purpose +I assure you: if you please I will conduct you to Mr. Franklin's; +though Miss Julia is married and gone now, yet the old gentleman +is very good. " + +"Julia Franklin," said Charlotte; "is she not married to Montraville?" + +"Yes," replied the soldier, "and may God bless them, for a better +officer never lived, he is so good to us all; and as to Miss Julia, +all the poor folk almost worshipped her." + +"Gracious heaven," cried Charlotte, "is Montraville unjust then +to none but me. " + +The soldier now shewed her Colonel Crayton's door, and, with a +beating heart, she knocked for admission. + + CHAPTER XXXI. + + SUBJECT CONTINUED. + +WHEN the door was opened, Charlotte, in a voice rendered scarcely +articulate, through cold and the extreme agitation of her mind, +demanded whether Mrs. Crayton was at home. The servant hesitated: +he knew that his lady was engaged at a game of picquet with her +dear Corydon, nor could he think she would like to be disturbed +by a person whose appearance spoke her of so little consequence +as Charlotte; yet there was something in her countenance that rather +interested him in her favour, and he said his lady was engaged, +but if she had any particular message he would deliver it. + +"Take up this letter," said Charlotte: "tell her the unhappy writer +of it waits in her hall for an answer." The tremulous accent, +the tearful eye, must have moved any heart not composed of adamant. +The man took the letter from the poor suppliant, and hastily ascended +the stair case. + +"A letter, Madam," said he, presenting it to his lady: +"an immediate answer is required. " + +Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carelessly over the contents. +"What stuff is this;" cried she haughtily; "have not I told you a thousand +times that I will not be plagued with beggars, and petitions from people +one knows nothing about? Go tell the woman I can't do any thing in it. +I'm sorry, but one can't relieve every body." + +The servant bowed, and heavily returned with this chilling +message to Charlotte. + +"Surely," said she, "Mrs. Crayton has not read my letter. +Go, my good friend, pray go back to her; tell her it is Charlotte +Temple who requests beneath her hospitable roof to find shelter +from the inclemency of the season." + +"Prithee, don't plague me, man," cried Mrs. Crayton impatiently, +as the servant advanced something in behalf of the unhappy girl. +"I tell you I don't know her." + +"Not know me," cried Charlotte, rushing into the room, +(for she had followed the man up stairs) "not know me, not remember +the ruined Charlotte Temple, who, but for you, perhaps might +still have been innocent, still have been happy. Oh! La Rue, +this is beyond every thing I could have believed possible." + +"Upon my honour, Miss," replied the unfeeling woman with +the utmost effrontery, "this is a most unaccountable address: +it is beyond my comprehension. John," continued she, turning to +the servant, "the young woman is certainly out of her senses: +do pray take her away, she terrifies me to death. " + +"Oh God," cried Charlotte, clasping her hands in an agony, +"this is too much; what will become of me? but I will not leave you; +they shall not tear me from you; here on my knees I conjure +you to save me from perishing in the streets; if you really +have forgot me, oh for charity's sweet sake this night let me be +sheltered from the winter's piercing cold." The kneeling figure +of Charlotte in her affecting situation might have moved the heart +of a stoic to compassion; but Mrs. Crayton remained inflexible. +In vain did Charlotte recount the time they had known each other +at Chichester, in vain mention their being in the same ship, +in vain were the names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned. +Mrs. Crayton could only say she was sorry for her imprudence, +but could not think of having her own reputation endangered by +encouraging a woman of that kind in her own house, besides she did +not know what trouble and expense she might bring upon her husband +by giving shelter to a woman in her situation. + +"I can at least die here," said Charlotte, "I feel I cannot long +survive this dreadful conflict. Father of mercy, here let me +finish my existence." Her agonizing sensations overpowered her, +and she fell senseless on the floor. + +"Take her away," said Mrs. Crayton, "she will really frighten me +into hysterics; take her away I say this instant." + +"And where must I take the poor creature?" said the servant with a +voice and look of compassion. + +"Any where," cried she hastily, "only don't let me ever see her again. +I declare she has flurried me so I shan't be myself again this fortnight." + +John, assisted by his fellow-servant, raised and carried her down stairs. +"Poor soul," said he, "you shall not lay in the street this night. +I have a bed and a poor little hovel, where my wife and her +little ones rest them, but they shall watch to night, and you +shall be sheltered from danger." They placed her in a chair; +and the benevolent man, assisted by one of his comrades, +carried her to the place where his wife and children lived. +A surgeon was sent for: he bled her, she gave signs of +returning life, and before the dawn gave birth to a female infant. +After this event she lay for some hours in a kind of stupor; +and if at any time she spoke, it was with a quickness and incoherence +that plainly evinced the total deprivation of her reason. + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + REASONS WHY AND WHEREFORE. + +THE reader of sensibility may perhaps be astonished to find Mrs. Crayton +could so positively deny any knowledge of Charlotte; it is therefore +but just that her conduct should in some measure be accounted for. +She had ever been fully sensible of the superiority of Charlotte's +sense and virtue; she was conscious that she had never swerved +from rectitude, had it not been for her bad precepts and worse example. +These were things as yet unknown to her husband, and she wished +not to have that part of her conduct exposed to him, as she +had great reason to fear she had already lost considerable part +of that power she once maintained over him. She trembled whilst +Charlotte was in the house, lest the Colonel should return; +she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested +in her favour whilst on their passage from England, and made +no doubt, but, should he see her in her present distress, he would +offer her an asylum, and protect her to the utmost of his power. +In that case she feared the unguarded nature of Charlotte might discover +to the Colonel the part she had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement, +and she well knew the contrast between her own and Charlotte's +conduct would make the former appear in no very respectable light. +Had she reflected properly, she would have afforded the poor +girl protection; and by enjoining her silence, ensured it by acts +of repeated kindness; but vice in general blinds its votaries, +and they discover their real characters to the world when they +are most studious to preserve appearances. + +Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton: her servants made no +scruple of mentioning the cruel conduct of their lady to a poor +distressed lunatic who claimed her protection; every one joined +in reprobating her inhumanity; nay even Corydon thought she +might at least have ordered her to be taken care of, but he dare +not even hint it to her, for he lived but in her smiles, and drew +from her lavish fondness large sums to support an extravagance +to which the state of his own finances was very inadequate; +it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton +to be very liberal in her bounty to the afflicted suppliant; +yet vice had not so entirely seared over his heart, but the sorrows +of Charlotte could find a vulnerable part. + +Charlotte had now been three days with her humane preservers, +but she was totally insensible of every thing: she raved incessantly +for Montraville and her father: she was not conscious of being a mother, +nor took the least notice of her child except to ask whose it was, +and why it was not carried to its parents. + +"Oh," said she one day, starting up on hearing the infant cry, +"why, why will you keep that child here; I am sure you would not if you +knew how hard it was for a mother to be parted from her infant: +it is like tearing the cords of life asunder. Oh could you +see the horrid sight which I now behold--there there stands my +dear mother, her poor bosom bleeding at every vein, her gentle, +affectionate heart torn in a thousand pieces, and all for the loss +of a ruined, ungrateful child. Save me save me--from her frown. +I dare not--indeed I dare not speak to her." + +Such were the dreadful images that haunted her distracted mind, +and nature was sinking fast under the dreadful malady which +medicine had no power to remove. The surgeon who attended her +was a humane man; he exerted his utmost abilities to save her, +but he saw she was in want of many necessaries and comforts, +which the poverty of her hospitable host rendered him unable to provide: +he therefore determined to make her situation known to some +of the officers' ladies, and endeavour to make a collection +for her relief. + +When he returned home, after making this resolution, he found a message +from Mrs. Beauchamp, who had just arrived from Rhode-Island, requesting +he would call and see one of her children, who was very unwell. +"I do not know," said he, as he was hastening to obey the summons, +"I do not know a woman to whom I could apply with more hope of success +than Mrs. Beauchamp. I will endeavour to interest her in this poor +girl's behalf, she wants the soothing balm of friendly consolation: +we may perhaps save her; we will try at least." + +"And where is she," cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed +something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, +"where is she, Sir? we will go to her immediately. +Heaven forbid that I should be deaf to the calls of humanity. +Come we will go this instant." Then seizing the doctor's arm, +they sought the habitation that contained the dying Charlotte. + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + + WHICH PEOPLE VOID OF FEELING + NEED NOT READ. + +WHEN Mrs. Beauchamp entered the apartment of the poor sufferer, +she started back with horror. On a wretched bed, without hangings +and but poorly supplied with covering, lay the emaciated figure of +what still retained the semblance of a lovely woman, though sickness +had so altered her features that Mrs. Beauchamp had not the least +recollection of her person. In one comer of the room stood a +woman washing, and, shivering over a small fire, two healthy but half +naked children; the infant was asleep beside its mother, and, on a chair +by the bed side, stood a porrenger and wooden spoon, containing a +little gruel, and a tea-cup with about two spoonfulls of wine in it. +Mrs. Beauchamp had never before beheld such a scene of poverty; +she shuddered involuntarily, and exclaiming--"heaven preserve us!" +leaned on the back of a chair ready to sink to the earth. +The doctor repented having so precipitately brought her into +this affecting scene; but there was no time for apologies: +Charlotte caught the sound of her voice, and starting almost out of bed, +exclaimed--"Angel of peace and mercy, art thou come to deliver me? +Oh, I know you are, for whenever you was near me I felt eased +of half my sorrows; but you don't know me, nor can I, with all +the recollection I am mistress of, remember your name just now, +but I know that benevolent countenance, and the softness of that voice +which has so often comforted the wretched Charlotte. " + +Mrs. Beauchamp had, during the time Charlotte was speaking, +seated herself on the bed and taken one of her hands; she looked +at her attentively, and at the name of Charlotte she perfectly +conceived the whole shocking affair. A faint sickness came over her. +"Gracious heaven," said she, "is this possible?" and bursting into tears, +she reclined the burning head of Charlotte on her own bosom; +and folding her arms about her, wept over her in silence. +"Oh," said Charlotte, "you are very good to weep thus for me: +it is a long time since I shed a tear for myself: my head and heart +are both on fire, but these tears of your's seem to cool and refresh it. +Oh now I remember you said you would send a letter to my poor father: +do you think he ever received it? or perhaps you have brought me +an answer: why don't you speak, Madam? Does he say I may go home? +Well he is very good; I shall soon be ready." + +She then made an effort to get out of bed; but being prevented, her frenzy +again returned, and she raved with the greatest wildness and incoherence. +Mrs. Beauchamp, finding it was impossible for her to be removed, +contented herself with ordering the apartment to be made more comfortable, +and procuring a proper nurse for both mother and child; and having learnt +the particulars of Charlotte's fruitless application to Mrs. Crayton +from honest John, she amply rewarded him for his benevolence, +and returned home with a heart oppressed with many painful sensations, +but yet rendered easy by the reflexion that she had performed her +duty towards a distressed fellow-creature. + +Early the next morning she again visited Charlotte, and found her +tolerably composed; she called her by name, thanked her for her goodness, +and when her child was brought to her, pressed it in her arms, +wept over it, and called it the offspring of disobedience. +Mrs. Beauchamp was delighted to see her so much amended, +and began to hope she might recover, and, spite of her +former errors, become an useful and respectable member of society; +but the arrival of the doctor put an end to these delusive hopes: +he said nature was making her last effort, and a few hours would +most probably consign the unhappy girl to her kindred dust. + +Being asked how she found herself, she replied--"Why better, +much better, doctor. I hope now I have but little more to suffer. +I had last night a few hours sleep, and when I awoke recovered +the full power of recollection. I am quite sensible of my weakness; +I feel I have but little longer to combat with the shafts of affliction. +I have an humble confidence in the mercy of him who died +to save the world, and trust that my sufferings in this state +of mortality, joined to my unfeigned repentance, through his mercy, +have blotted my offences from the sight of my offended maker. +I have but one care--my poor infant! Father of mercy," continued she, +raising her eyes, "of thy infinite goodness, grant that the sins +of the parent be not visited on the unof-fending child. +May those who taught me to despise thy laws be forgiven; lay not my +offences to their charge, I beseech thee; and oh! shower the choicest +of thy blessings on those whose pity has soothed the afflicted heart, +and made easy even the bed of pain and sickness." + +She was exhausted by this fervent address to the throne of mercy, +and though her lips still moved her voice became inarticulate: +she lay for some time as it were in a doze, and then recovering, +faintly pressed Mrs. Beauchamp's hand, and requested that a clergyman +might be sent for. + +On his arrival she joined fervently in the pious office, +frequently mentioning her ingratitude to her parents as what lay +most heavy at her heart. When she had performed the last solemn duty, +and was preparing to lie down, a little bustle on the outside door +occasioned Mrs. Beauchamp to open it, and enquire the cause. +A man in appearance about forty, presented himself, and asked +for Mrs. Beauchamp. + +"That is my name, Sir," said she. + +"Oh then, my dear Madam," cried he, "tell me where I may find +my poor, ruined, but repentant child." + +Mrs. Beauchamp was surprised and affected; she knew not what to say; +she foresaw the agony this interview would occasion Mr. Temple, +who had just arrived in search of his Charlotte, and yet was +sensible that the pardon and blessing of her father would soften +even the agonies of death to the daughter. + +She hesitated. "Tell me, Madam," cried he wildly, "tell me, +I beseech thee, does she live? shall I see my darling once again? +Perhaps she is in this house. Lead, lead me to her, that I may +bless her, and then lie down and die." + +The ardent manner in which he uttered these words occasioned +him to raise his voice. It caught the ear of Charlotte: +she knew the beloved sound: and uttering a loud shriek, she sprang +forward as Mr. Temple entered the room. "My adored father." +"My long lost child." Nature could support no more, and they both +sunk lifeless into the arms of the attendants. + +Charlotte was again put into bed, and a few moments restored Mr. Temple: +but to describe the agony of his sufferings is past the power +of any one, who, though they may readily conceive, cannot delineate +the dreadful scene. Every eye gave testimony of what each heart felt-- +but all were silent. + +When Charlotte recovered, she found herself supported in her +father's arms. She cast on him a most expressive look, +but was unable to speak. A reviving cordial was administered. +She then asked in a low voice, for her child: it was brought to her: +she put it in her father's arms. "Protect her," said she, +"and bless your dying--" + +Unable to finish the sentence, she sunk back on her pillow: +her countenance was serenely composed; she regarded her father +as he pressed the infant to his breast with a steadfast look; +a sudden beam of joy passed across her languid features, she raised +her eyes to heaven--and then closed them for ever. + + CHAPTER XXXIV. + + RETRIBUTION. + +IN the mean time Montraville having received orders to return +to New-York, arrived, and having still some remains of compassionate +tenderness for the woman whom he regarded as brought to shame by himself, +he went out in search of Belcour, to enquire whether she was safe, +and whether the child lived. He found him immersed in dissipation, +and could gain no other intelligence than that Charlotte had left him, +and that he knew not what was become of her. + +"I cannot believe it possible," said Montraville, "that a mind once +so pure as Charlotte Temple's, should so suddenly become the mansion +of vice. Beware, Belcour," continued he, "beware if you have +dared to behave either unjust or dishonourably to that poor girl, +your life shall pay the forfeit:--I will revenge her cause." + +He immediately went into the country, to the house where +he had left Charlotte. It was desolate. After much enquiry +he at length found the servant girl who had lived with her. +From her he learnt the misery Charlotte had endured from the complicated +evils of illness, poverty, and a broken heart, and that she +had set out on foot for New-York, on a cold winter's evening; +but she could inform him no further. + +Tortured almost to madness by this shocking account, he returned to +the city, but, before he reached it, the evening was drawing to a close. +In entering the town he was obliged to pass several little huts, +the residence of poor women who supported themselves by washing +the cloaths of the officers and soldiers. It was nearly dark: +he heard from a neighbouring steeple a solemn toll that seemed +to say some poor mortal was going to their last mansion: the sound +struck on the heart of Montraville, and he involuntarily stopped, +when, from one of the houses, he saw the appearance of a funeral. +Almost unknowing what he did, he followed at a small distance; +and as they let the coffin into the grave, he enquired of a soldier who +stood by, and had just brushed off a tear that did honour to his heart, +who it was that was just buried. "An please your honour," said the man, +" 'tis a poor girl that was brought from her friends by a cruel man, +who left her when she was big with child, and married another." +Montraville stood motionless, and the man proceeded--"I met her myself +not a fortnight since one night all wet and cold in the streets; +she went to Madam Crayton's, but she would not take her in, +and so the poor thing went raving mad." Montraville could bear +no more; he struck his hands against his forehead with violence; +and exclaiming "poor murdered Charlotte!" ran with precipitation +towards the place where they were heaping the earth on her remains. +"Hold, hold, one moment," said he. "Close not the grave of the injured +Charlotte Temple till I have taken vengeance on her murderer." + +"Rash young man," said Mr. Temple," "who art thou that thus disturbest +the last mournful rites of the dead, and rudely breakest in upon +the grief of an afflicted father." + +"If thou art the father of Charlotte Temple," said he, gazing at him with +mingled horror and amazement--"if thou art her father--I am Montraville." +Then falling on his knees, he continued--"Here is my bosom. +I bare it to receive the stroke I merit. Strike--strike now, +and save me from the misery of reflexion." + +"Alas!" said Mr. Temple, "if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own +reflexions be thy punishment. I wrest not the power from the hand +of omnipotence. Look on that little heap of earth, there hast thou +buried the only joy of a fond father. Look at it often; and may thy +heart feel such true sorrow as shall merit the mercy of heaven." +He turned from him; and Montraville starting up from the ground, +where he had thrown himself, and at that instant remembering +the perfidy of Belcour, flew like lightning to his lodgings. +Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville impetuous: they fought, +and the sword of the latter entered the heart of his adversary. +He fell, and expired almost instantly. Montraville had received +a slight wound; and overcome with the agitation of his mind and loss +of blood, was carried in a state of insensibility to his distracted wife. +A dangerous illness and obstinate delirium ensued, during which +he raved incessantly for Charlotte: but a strong constitution, +and the tender assiduities of Julia, in time overcame the disorder. +He recovered; but to the end of his life was subject to severe +fits of melancholy, and while he remained at New-York frequently +retired to the church-yard, where he would weep over the grave, +and regret the untimely fate of the lovely Charlotte Temple. + + CHAPTER XXXV. + + CONCLUSION. + +SHORTLY after the interment of his daughter, Mr. Temple, +with his dear little charge and her nurse, set forward for England. +It would be impossible to do justice to the meeting scene between him, +his Lucy, and her aged father. Every heart of sensibility can easily +conceive their feelings. After the first tumult of grief was subsided, +Mrs. Temple gave up the chief of her time to her grand-child, +and as she grew up and improved, began to almost fancy she again +possessed her Charlotte. + +It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and +Mrs. Temple, having buried their father, were obliged to come to London +on particular business, and brought the little Lucy with them. +They had been walking one evening, when on their return +they found a poor wretch sitting on the steps of the door. +She attempted to rise as they approached, but from extreme weakness +was unable, and after several fruitless efforts fell back in a fit. +Mr. Temple was not one of those men who stand to consider +whether by assisting an object in distress they shall not +inconvenience themselves, but instigated by the impulse of a noble +feeling heart, immediately ordered her to be carried into the house, +and proper restoratives applied. + +She soon recovered; and fixing her eyes on Mrs. Temple, +cried--"You know not, Madam, what you do; you know not whom +you are relieving, or you would curse me in the bitterness of +your heart. Come not near me, Madam, I shall contaminate you. +I am the viper that stung your peace. I am the woman who turned +the poor Charlotte out to perish in the street. Heaven have mercy! +I see her now," continued she looking at Lucy; "such, such was the fair +bud of innocence that my vile arts blasted ere it was half blown. " + +It was in vain that Mr. and Mrs. Temple intreated her to be composed +and to take some refreshment. She only drank half a glass of wine; +and then told them that she had been separated from her husband +seven years, the chief of which she had passed in riot, +dissipation, and vice, till, overtaken by poverty and sickness, +she had been reduced to part with every valuable, and thought +only of ending her life in a prison; when a benevolent friend +paid her debts and released her; but that her illness encreasing, +she had no possible means of supporting herself, and her friends +were weary of relieving her. "I have fasted," said she, "two days, +and last night lay my aching head on the cold pavement: +indeed it was but just that I should experience those miseries +myself which I had unfeelingly inflicted on others." + +Greatly as Mr. Temple had reason to detest Mrs. Crayton, he could +not behold her in this distress without some emotions of pity. +He gave her shelter that night beneath his hospitable roof, +and the next day got her admission into an hospital; where having +lingered a few weeks, she died, a striking example that vice, +however prosperous in the beginning, in the end leads only to +misery and shame. + + F I N I S. + +****End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Charlotte Temple**** + + diff --git a/old/chtem10.zip b/old/chtem10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae3c1d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/chtem10.zip |