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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Charlotte Temple by Susanna Rowson
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+Charlotte Temple, by Susanna Rowson
+                                                                
+October, 1994  [Etext #171]                                     
+                                                                
+                                                                
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Charlotte Temple by Susanna Rowson 
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+
+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****
+
+
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