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Les diagrammed suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 L> "Jf i^^AwMm^^^^'^^s'^^ \ % BY A Tale of Truth, Late of tfie JSTew- Theatre y Philadelphia'-^uth$n of Victoria^ The Inquisitor, Fille de She was her parents' only joy; They had but one — one darling child. ^^ * Romeo and Juliet. Herlfernrwa^taultless,' and lier mind i ^n tainted yet by art, Was*noDle, just, humane and kind; And virtue warm'd her heart. But ah! the cruel spoiler came, . . . HALto^ELL, ^. C. Printed and Published by /. Wllsoih m r - ■■ ■*' iiiiiiiHrlMii«"iii " ' w. <»'SSSft ^iH^iaaiD^^^ ^iBsaiPiKa^ CHAPTER I. A BOARDING SCHOOL., •^ A"RE 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 Ti 1 Montraville was a lieutenant in the army: *>ei- cour 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 whore the troops waited orders for embarkationt They had stopped at Chichester to dine; and know- ing they had sufficient time to reach the place of destination before dark, and y^^t allpw them a walk, had resolved, it being Sunday afternoon, to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as tbey returned from their devotions. ^ They had gratified their curiosity, and were pre- pared to return to the inn without honoring any of the belles with particular attention when Madame ^»^«X.OTTB XB:ap^^, the church s K " ^""^^• S'^i iookedZ Mi^f '"^ 'heir hS ^/''^'^' a Wt « he entered the^?^''' /'f^ ''^ *e S^V'- .^ , I *^f notice hep p„ '"• ^e^coiirQfaJ; , * saidfte I friends fii^ 4 ^ ^^^cour *« « *^v ■ • «!«;«„ f^»i<»i..rl, f "J"*" ball r„_ I ^E. bllARLOTTE TE3IPLE. [y^^'^h and in 'S soldiers: tC ^ P'^' Aer only ^ac/e in her J'cJ? suffused ^ ^^s bosom n^.to thint, ^J^ht have '^i ^nd the rain. /, ^?i^he, ■ hicfhjand perhaps the Argusses, who guarded the l^Jdyou I Hesperian fruit within, were more watchful than she had -- ^i: ^yes of ^eeJ dev- ■''om our > monthF Contra- f of the '^h any *e girl inter- ?. and up to vd to take leave of Chichester and its fair inhabi- tant, and proceed on their journey. But Charlotte had made too great an impression on his mind to be easily eradicated: having: there- fore spent three whole days in thinking on her, and endeavoring to form some plan for seeing her, he determined to set off for Chichester, and trust to chance either to favor or frustrate his designs. Ar- riving at the verge of the town, he dismounted, and sendi7ig the servant forward with the horses, pro- ccedecftowa.d the place, where, in the midst of an extensive pleasure ground, stood the mansion v/bicii contained the lovely Charlotte Temple. Montra- ville leaned on a broken gate, and looked earnestly at the honse. The wall which surrounded it was those famed of old. '' 'Tis a romantic attempt," snid 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 endeavor to en- gage the affections of this lovely girl, only to leave her a prey to a thousand inquietudes, of which at present she hris no idea? I will return to Ports- mouth, and think no more about her. The evening v/as nov/ closed; a serene stillness reigned; and tlie chaste queen of night, with her f>iivcr crescer.t, faintly illuminated the hemisphere. The mmd of Montravilte was hushed into compo- sure by the serenity of the surrounding objects. " I «r;ii '<-'''^"- ed arm in arm across the fieJd » ' °"'' ''^'' ^' "^k- overtoS;t'Sr;i;t%tr'''-'-^l.e. He the evening, beared le^l 7' '^"^ '^o'^PHments of ^^ore frequented fes of'Z to'„ '"", '''I'" '"'« «"^ ered, under the conce .if i?', "? ^?'"'^'-' h« discov- iaceofChariotto Tenmle '^ ' ^"'•^^ '^"'^'^^^ ^he He soon found mpo^o \ • J'er companion, who «1 '"p-atiatc h:mseJf „.f;f, school, and at purt J. l!tn'^I/^T^ *«"'^''er at t e Posey written, intog,Sl^'^»«'' ^^ h,d „u ! fas ^uo that of M..de;SL ^ '"'^ ^'^^^ S"'"- »-ouId endeavor to htinlZft' '"''^ ^'^'^''^e^ *!'« ^^eJda^ain the nc:;t evenint' ^ '^'■'"o charoc into the ^^^AS^TICH, 12". l>03iE3riC CCIVCERIVS. Mr. TEMPLE the antiquity, grandeur tiL''?"^-'-^. ^d'^q.«te to --?' — , v.^i^icpjt men. vFnp- ence rendered tfiem soJendidk ^- "''' ^'-^^^ •'«'^'- «ot sacrifice interrmfiS^^^'i'^^^'-f ^- _ "1 >vil! center ' <. ' iJiiJ, ii Ii Hid h 'VV, cr iii out indigent i ^^ confining his o t ;i cottage, will embrace her ^vilh as much cordiality n« ! should if seated on u thr 'ne. 4 v-^t:::' inT^irt^tt^iv^ rprS rreTntp7nTe'n'ce!"to marry where the feel- nio Ws heart should direct hmvand to confine his expenses within the limits of his mcomc. He K./n hc-irt onen to every generous feeling of hu- manity aii aCd read^ tf dispense to those who Wanted, part of the blessings he en,oyed himself. Afhe was universally known to be the friend of the'^^SoTtunate, his advice and bom^y were fre- quently.solicite- -^ . -^Sn^ SsSy; ■ases within a very narrow '< vou are a very .enevolent fellow," said a young^fficer t^ hini^ one day; » and I Jave a grea mind to give you a subject to cxerc.se the goodness ^^r^^u'crnToMige me more,»sa^^^^^^^^^^ « than to point out any way, by which I can be ser viceable to my fellow creatures. "Come along then," said the young man ' J e will go and visil a man who is not '"/« |°?f/j,J^'j ing as he deserves, and, were it not t^athehasan an^^el with him, who c<>m orts and supi,orte hm he must long since have sunk under his misfortunes. The vounp- man's heart was too full to proceea, ;;;rTe'm"^el"willing to irritate Wsfee^ing^^ by „ja- king further inquiries, followed him m silence, tm they arrived at the Fleetprison. ■ ^,^^.^_ ^ peioalTSer^S'severalpairc- dirty^airs. m compass. " You are a ver> Ift. tn -'■I 8 The officer ,vf,n "^ '"*' «'e door, and' vasL"i''"'''''*'^^-«"'^-V (ann ^ ai?ed man in a f .„,'''' '^^ '^P^n before k' *"'" ^^'^'^ "iread bare.s ""Vi^^^nt's uniform ^l- 1"' ^'•»*a" ■ <« the £ 'f 1?"''^ ^°"»e'- call H bTush nf \ ^''^"gh '-•heeks of h-ii^ \^^*'«= "f confusion^;^*'' ,'^''^' '"e^'t= . BesidSmsr'rr^f ^^'^ ^^^^'^^ ^^^^^ ^n§: a fan mount S""^ ^ creature, busied .n „ • sorroMT had mnf fl ''^ ^^^ fair asX r/," P^''^*" half blown H. "'^ ""''^ '" her cheek h'f^'"^ • ''"' ^vhichwa;hV?r»,^y^« ^ere blue ' f °.!'*' '* ^^«« dPF o J^i • '^"* brown w-.c i" i : ^'^'^ her hair c"?at4""'Sni^'^^^^^^ arose from hfs '«^ b« L^^r^^ Temple^ Z cil^^d^? ^'"^^^ «f 4i3 mhhV,\^,fJ^?}' seated hh««!f.^„*f^« h-' gagg ,*j:itg - CUARI.OTTE TE.'SIPX-E. i) -This is a strange place," said he to Temple, . to receive visiter^of ^-^^V^X^^^ \i our feelings to our station. >Vhiie i am not a Im'd to ow'n the cause v.»]ich bvought -e ^ere whv should I blush at my S't'-i='^'°" .,""f r™ ,,^^t S. are not our faults ; and were it not for that ^'°Het'\he philosopher wa^. , :.t in the father. He rose hastilj from his seat, walked towards the wnv dow and Jiped off a tear which he was afraid would famish the cheek of a sailor. . , Temple ca.c his eye on Miss Eldridge; a peluc.d drop hid stolen from her eye.and fallen upon arc. e she was painti£>g. It blotted and discolored ttie flower. - 'Tis emblematic," said he mentally, the rose of youth and health soon fades when water- edbv the tear of affliction." . -Mv friend Blakeney,'' said he, addressing the old man, ' told me I could be of service to you: be :« kS'then, dear sir as to point out jme way m which I can relieve the anxiety of ^ your heart antt increase the pleasures of my o^yn «Mv good young man," said Eldridge, «'you know not^whatvou offer. While deprived of my uSy Iclnot be free from anxiety on my own account^ but that is a trifling concern ; my anxious SuS extend to one more dear a thousand times thanlife: I am a poor, weak, old man, and must ex- pect in a few years to sink in silence and oblivion, EwhenIamgone,whowifl protectthat fairbud of innocence from the blasts of adversity, or trom the cruel hand of insult ana dishonor ? .,.^ Oh! my j?atiierr' cneu x»iio3 jl^^^^^^ --- . taking his hand, « be not onxious on that account , ♦i*i JO L f» CIIARl^OTrE TE^iptj.. 'to» pSSe eta, *'?•?)'. »v fS 'r r •«'ands,"J/'?£"': cred^^^^^^ what were ^ • ^^''^ there are °Z''' '^'"'''" said Mr Vi^.-. J>eartbJreIv?o '^"■^''^"'^'•s w£ S"^^^-' "^"^t friennl-^ ^ remember • vJtl^ ^'" ^''"ne- mv addressina- h;i^- ^"' my child » ! T-^ P'^^sent ?e, to enjovTl^i ^A ^M^^V ihSL ^.J:"?." *o take this om,oS' ':^^*'«« enjoy the hn^^' ^'^^'e-my friend;"."" ^°" « ; Vave Le r? '''" '''" and — -•'^'"^ ^'t'' WlVilfcr °°'^'' ^-^orrot Tr'- «« ^ Miss EdridZT y^"- " ^'''"" """^J '^«^^^^ecS?:„K53!o„hischee.the;.^^ CHAPTER Jn. , "Mrhre'^f'!trr^'' ^^«^ORTpwE. SZoi'z.ir^'^^^ ?*i?n:;«« -t^in these ^«««mng: notice. L.rJ^^H'^J'^^.oircum^ -- V -"iwacert the Ii% chARLotti: TErJLPl-E. 11 ^^<^n that our ^^t, andono I live when '' You will 1 hope see ^3 cheerly; t've anJyto ■^sing. But «ave told e their de- 5 3'our iib- S^; ''but ^^ing my e offers of 'd. I will ' present lued he, on you are with se. Go ^r usual ' Jdss of these cum-' 5 life of a sailor, and have served -Y ^^"^^^^^^ "S^'^^^^tZ left us, --f the fruits o^^^^^^^^^ *^ • TvL hnv had eeiiius and spirit. 1 slraigni- S"n.y'ft.eTn?:mf to give him a Ub-^^^f-- tSn- but the rapid progress he made la his studies ^Ur ronme' sited for the.incoaveiuence. At the ''"'^^l.vvluTe he received his education, he com- 'n'elcX a S: nt'Le with a Mr Lewis a young pan of Vm>ieut fortune: as they grew "P. their "" Zacy ripe-.ed i>.to friendship, and they became ai- riest insepi-.rable companions. '••" ' George chose the profession oi a sold.e ^ I had reither fnerds nor money ^ procurf h.m a com ;Lion, and had wished ^""^0 embrace a^^^^^^^^^^^ liu>: but this was repugnant _ to his wishes, ana i /.f>i«pH «o ur-^e him on the subject. . '•""The fH.:;idsh>p. subsisting between Le^v^sar^d c o..oii a riitiirp as cave lum uee uu- mvsonWBSoi sdcn a naiure as ^^ „., i,;. minner r,U to ovr ft'mi'iv; '^'nd so specious was his manner, hat we he-itated not to state to him all our httle Sculties in regard to George's future views. He ste.-.ed.to us with atte..lion, and offered lo advance, ' nv sum ..ecess.ry for his first setting out. - I embraced the offer, and gave lum my note for ■ Ihe iym;nt of it; but he would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time, as he said I m^ht Toit whenever most convenient to myself. About this time my dear Lucy returned ^^ N^'^'i^hlV w ffi looa began to imagine Lewis looked >J h^^J'" eyos of affection. 1 gave my child caution to be / f !,;„> ^rri tolnok on her mother as her triend. «ic was un^fTectedly artless; and when, ab 12 S. ^•"A^I.OTT£ ,,B,,^,^^ ^"% submJf f " *^'« favor, and ^ ^''■"^ 'vas per- concerning- f> ;• '^ ''PPortunitv n f „ state of he. hir^'?°°" for some f/m • and I sawl^t 'V'^™^'^ she vvas L ''^'^'^'^'^ «"d int ^«ftmy oTvnT ^'"* '■" the arms o? ^'"P^'""'' *° hear- f'>r us both . P?'" ^^"cy. diiZT?"^^^'' '^alls of a 'detain me b'v ""''■ T «»e floor 'f? "-'^^ h«r fears forced Z„\ ''«'• feeble e/rort's- l^^'^^^^-orcd to ^Nl^ CHARLOTTE TE3IPLK. 13 , ..No," said Temple; "but the truly brave soul is tremb inffly alive to the feelings of hurnaraty ! i' True," replied the old man, (something like sa- tisfaciSTdarti^ across his ieat -es) ^'and painful . 4 S^feelin I would not exchange them foStop^^^^^^ stoic mistakes for philoao« Sv^^ How many exquisite delights should I ha.^c Sed by unnoticed, but for these keen sensations^ Es quick sense of happiness or misery? Then e us my friend, take the cup of hfe as it is pre- sented to^ us, tempered by the hand of a ^ylse Provided be thankful for the good, be patieii^ under the evil, and presume not to enquire why the latter predominates." „ . , rr. i ^ •* This is true philosophy," said Temple. *« 'Tis the only way to reconcile ourselves to tne cross events of life," replied he. -But I orgot myself. I will not longer intrude on your patience , but proceed in my melancholy tale." «* The very evening that I was taken to prison, mv son arrived from Ireland, where he had been some time with his regiment. From the distracted expressions of his mother and sister he learned by whom I had been arrested; and, late as it was, flew on the wings of wounded affection, to the house ot his false friend, and earnestly enquired the cause ot this cruel conduct. With all the calmness of a cooJ , deliberate villian, he avowed his passion for Lucy; declared her situation in life would not permit him to marry her; but offered to release me immediate- . %, and make any settlement upon her, il George would persuade her to live, as he impiously termed it, a life of honor. _ , ,^ l?*^- J -X aU^ :«s!„14^ ^fPe^vaA fr* ?» THftT^ 911(1 a SOI* ► *. 14 I /CHARLOTTE TEJUPJLB. neighborhood, and wro "e lon^^ff'^^^^^^ '" N to me blaming himself setel"lf ^^^'^^'^nate letter duced Lewis into the famT^o? n"' '''/'"^ '"t^^- confer an obligation, ^vhichhJ\f^''T^f^ ^'"^ 4 ruin on us all.^ He begged ^ .S T'^' inevitable the eveat of the ensuiS mo^^^"^^^'^"" "'^ht be regret or unavailing sorroiS- % "°' *" «"ffer the anguish of my heart X,. I' ^''^' *° 'n^rease wasah-eadyinsup^portable ^'^^ greatly feared, 1 ms letter was deliverpH f^ morning. It ^ould be X? valn^ 1 ^''''y '° ^e cnbe my feelings on the Lr. t. ^ •*^"'^* ^° ^««- «ay, that a me "ci'ul Provwl ?^ '*' '^"ffice it to was for three weeks iSlnsZ" ,'''''^^'f'^' «''d I l>eyond the strength of hu mn ? """^"^^ «''n«st ^"A fever and ^strong riWur".'' ^T^P'^'-*- y life was-tlespaired of At lln ..f "^^'^ ™«' ^n^ powered with fktigne ;ra4 w^*/ "l^"''^' «^er- Power of rest, and a Quif t\l„ t^ *° *^ ««'«tary restored me t^ reason t^o^1.^^'■ °' ^"""^ hours ness of my t,,me prev'e tedSv r' r ^""^'"^^ ^^^^>^- so ac^utely as I otherwise S,u^J ^'"'^"^ '"J' ^'^^ress L«cy|.^-%-t th^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ the first thing ftaT'4„^^^,-^;-cd from him,C degrees the rist return^H^ i *** "^ memory. By rested, but could noTai aceoT^^i^'^'f'' ''^'«& "^ apartment, whither ThT ,^"°"nt for being in this iny illness! ^*' ^^''^ ^ad conveyed me duS * was so twnnlr «« i.^ !._ - .-^^.- a. .o De almost unable to speak: mmm CHARI-OTTE TEMPLE 15 pressed Lucy's hand, and looked earnestly round ' S Tpartmelt in search of another dear object. '' Where is your mother?" said I faintly. , c. ^h'e "00/ girl could -^a„swer;sh^^^^^^^^^ head in expressive silence ; -^J, «'^°^'''°„^ ^^t on the bed, folded her arms about me, ana du into tears. ,, • j t "What! both gone, saidl. ,„ rp„f rain her « Both," she replied, endeavoring to restram ner emotions: " but they are happy "o/o"°*\.„tio„ of Here Mr. Eldridge paused: the recollection o the scene was too painful to permit him to proceeit- CHAPTER IV. CHANGE OF FORTUNE. « It was some days," continued Mr- Eldruige re^ roverine himself, « before I could v«pture to en qS the particul'ars of what had happened during ?,r; illness: at length I assumed co"r»g« ^ef h^^ rl/ar ffirl how long her mother and brotner naa SniSd: she tolS me. that the 7'";^«;,g -ffaS arrest, George came home early to enquire a«e^ his mother's health, staid with tbem but a lew minutes, seemed greatly agitated at Paru^ J^J gave them strict charge to keep up J^^ir spmts, and hope every thing would turn out ^^ ttie best. In about two hours after, as ^^y^^'^^^'S^S** break fast, and endeavoring to strike out some plan to attain my liberty, they heard a loud rap at fee d^r. .which Lucy running to open, she met the Weeding fcodv of her brother, borne in by two men who had lifted him from alitor, on whicu me • i i6 ■ 1 . — ■*«^*.is. turn fro:ii tj,e „»> '''°ther, P.-e,-xkoi'ed'. '"^r*^ *« fought » t^e Precedinn^n^^l'^J' '""ess and If. .^^^'"Poor shock: i?a.sp ^ j"ff *' "'as not abie « "'"^^^«s «f carried her dt^i^ '^^ apartraentil '^'^'^ ^nd hae-- ^W'iii nnf K ^^ ''and, 'avri. i '"e bedside- '^"^J^ at once ^ f ^'■"''' fro'n ?jfef^°'rr^°^' «^''d she' ^'"''efelJ S i ''• • • -father of ml. ^"^^and.' son .' ^''•essed Geor^i '" "^e mean (im A *^ ''^Pw-eJ in g'"ationasS;«'«"''d«> but (£^1'^^'"" '^^^ He never was sph. -k^ /'"aHest hone, 7 ' ' ""^^ a jo^e, andSTafef''"'^^ '''' ^te wafr'^''^'- i tor. ''''^^^"^"e-inthearSfe-' bie^on&S?S. :- f^eati, embarrassed " ^^3' >nfe and utterly una- ^oxi were com- '"^m (Htm cUAXiJLOlXf: TiuMPL.C» 17 ^' , ^^er poor ^^^^ggles of "'"PPort this ''^^ ^nd hag.- f, ^^ey had ^^e bedside; ^ said she, oand / son ! spare ine'^ ^^Pired in ^?eon had ^- such a recoverjr, sbrou^'f^f •ace, my neglect, ns v/ith one3 to coin- where have ? ino- her; «t in /the sed ina- 3in* mittedto the kindred earth, my creditors seized my house and furnitiue, which not being sufficient to discharge all their demands, detainers were lodged against me. — No friend stepped forward to my re- lief; from the grave of her mother, my beloved Lu- cy followed an almost dying father to this melan- choly 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: some- tmies by fine needle-work, sometimes by painting. She leaves me every night, and goes to a lodging near the bridge: but returns in the morning, to cheer me with her smiles^ and bless me by her du- teous affection. A lady once offered her an assylum 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 stxrvivor fortitude to bear the separation with due resignation; 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 utmosi farthing is paid." And how much is the amount of your debts in all?" said Temple. a3 IS ^H. •^ CHARLOTTE T*;.,xpi,b. i^nZey"T ''.''' ^«ar out her S ^^-^ " *at arpfKf . ^'"''*^ '"■e "ot morp ho ?, "^ y°"'' spirits- When they o-ot w.fh^ * , " s'lence. I had a n:.,.f • , ^ ^ character- ^n/* „• "^^^"^111^ I And what i«5 f k I 0"s WealJh ^'r«»ce, continued jl « ''"' " "ot I gence of V^f n compare? S thl '^ '"P".''fl"- I serve eaL ^."'^S^^- and what h.. r Z®""® in said \your spirits; ^^^nded than the horrors 'P^endour of ^ EJdridge. f those that ^ney ivent nee. ^he prison ntroducing ^g him he Y> "Wished 'edman.?'* e HiJl._ «^ould en- what ex- s of Lucy »er's de- •ut is not 'uperflu- rie indi- ' to de- starves efficient Mridge 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; unacquaiiited with the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy. He pitied their suffer- ings, overlooked their faults, thought every bosom as generous as his own, and would cheerfully have divided his last guinea with an unfortunate fellow creature. "^ No wonder then that such a man, (without wait- ing a moment for the interference of Madam Pru- dence) should resolve to raise money sufficient for therejief of Eldridge, by mortgaging part of his fortune. We will not inquire too minutely into the motive 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 fe- licity of seeing him at liberty, and receiving an am- ple 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 Joss 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 com- menced, and cannot suppose anv thins: but attach- ment to the daughter coMld carry you such impru- dent lengths for the father; it certainly must be her v>r 20 CHAnLOTTE TE3lPi,E. *'"clge h '^'frJl^^ '^^'"P^« eagerly <. t ^ erro| .tl/f!l«J? "' ^ «^e is & ;4-i fj; •" your o^intnTE^'j,";' ^^^^^ 'Sdoubl" Jjer sex to follow ; but com! " "'^ ««ellence for a I fording E Sj/Sr Son V ^^^ ^"PP^'-t her ac formed to insure happiness „ S""^ " ^^«'»^» "ore ,, ;; Tnen prithee, my dear . .^f^'"^'^'^ ^^^te." since your rank and tVH.nV '*' ^^^ ^is father What your /''•»V»c«rmSt exn'JV'L™""^ ''enS turn your eyes to Miss w. i^*^.*' ^e so Icind as to onJyanestat^ofthShousS?^' ^''•'' having 2cit.iT' ""i* J'°". and whose f^?^'"' '' "''''' "P^ icited the mighty honor ofvoJ u' ^^^^'erday so- Joave you to consider «« Z "^ alhance. I ghalJ member, that yQur^un'rw^^ff-^^and P^^'^^ put It m your power tn hJ ^^^ »^eatherbv wi'fl 0"tofthorlom"Td"Tr¥'^ '° ^^'ately manner -i^i* astonishilloItTm^^nX^Jr ^^^^^^^^ (21 ) of your for- •'*Lucy El- every other •vely," said '' no doubt, ence for all jJ me, what I hope you y marrying ort her ac- nian more state. '* lis father, beneath 'ind as to > having" more up- ^rday so- I shall 3ray re- '% will '6 friend manner •etrified ca k' . CHAPTER V. StJCH THINGS ARE, V Miss Weatherby was the only cliild of a •wealthy man, almost idolized by her parents, flatter- ed by her dependants, and never contr?idicted even by those who called themselves her friends: I can- not give a better description than by the following lines : The lovely maid whose form and face Nature has deck'd with every grace, But in whose breast no virtues glow. Whose heart ne'er felt another's woe. Whose hand ne'er smoothed the bed of pain, Or easM the captive's galling chain; But like the tulip caught .the eye, Born just to be admirM and die; When gone no one regrets its loss, I Or scarce remembers that it was. Such was Miss Weatherby ; her form lovely as nature could make it, but her mind uncultivated, her heart tmfeeling, her passions impetuous, and her hrain almost turned of flattery, dissipation and pleasure; and such was the girl, whom a partial grandfather left independent mistress of the fortune before me rationed. She had seen Temple frequently; and fancying she cculd never be happy without him. 5 nor once im- agining he could refuse a girl of her beauty and for- tune, 5he prevailed on her fond father to offer ihe 23 «' ■ r m CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. -, Mr. Temple's a'Jiance to the old Earl of D- £ri^^ Offer courteous,, ; ,e| fehuonable a man to suppi a w:7' "\*^ '^^ ^°° impediment to the FrieSn . '^^ 5**"''' ''e any ' <«r%e and his daughter! '^'P ''^ P'-ofessed for EK erSlhrS;!;ta!;a^ ftther, discovered to h m th -^^"^^ had with h^ and he round that tt'^Zt'^^lTiT f"'' "^^ ^orthe woman trwhomL- "^'"*"'"'^'g '"Se^N , ^'-edts^rSStd"' '' ^°"=^''"« father Ke^ 'PP'^^ i« t preir/ ^T-^^r-^d never ;«ft the house precipitatelv^ I / ^™ *» «PeaJc : he the cause of his sortowc fc\^ hnstened to re/ate ^^"i^We daughter^' '"^^ ««°^ «^d frienJaad -ch a'a: sSdt ?^/ T^*^ ^'> *e 30U, that hiWa candidatetr j5?s^^g^. determined to offer Wiiat MTonderfuI 7hfnZ. *^'^y'^ ^^vor. reigning Do«r^r L..^^^^^ ^e wrought h.r .i,„. E. CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 23 M^'- Temple 'sj irteonsly ; he and was too ould be any sssed forEl- ^* quite oth- •ad with his of his heart; tune would » Lucy Ej. ^;y of his ^his father => other rea- une would r in spleii- ' devoted: '^f by, and, ^^d hand, ii's father, hd never ' ^owed: ^ak ; he ^o relate ^end and 'oul that to offer or. c girl, wept. raved, tore her hair, and vowed to found a protest- ant nunnery with her fortune; and commencing abbess, to shut herself up from the sight of cruel un- I grateful man forever. Her father was a man of the world: he suffered this first transport to subside, and then very dehb- erately unfolded lo her the offers of the old Earl, expatiated on the many benefits arising from an ele- vated title, painted in glouinu: colors the surprise and vexation of Temple when he should see her figuring as a Countess and his inotlier-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 ^he 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 favor by avowing his passion for Lucy, and he saw now there was n;. hope of regain- ing it: ' But he shall not make me miserable/' said he. " Lucy and I have no ?'Tibitious ;.otions: we can live on three hundred a year for some little time, till the mortgage is paid off, and then we shall have sufiident 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, v^rith your reverend father, we \/ill forget that there are such things as splendor, profusion and dissipation: ^n-A tXTiU VkA«r<-i nrleasure she had promised herself from this visit. The levitv of tr,e gentlemen and the freedoui of their conversation disgusted her. She was astonished ;.t the liberties Mademoiselle pern.itted them to take ; grew thcudit- lul and uneasy, and heartily wished herself at home again m her own chamber. Perhaps one cause of that m,h might he, an earnest desire to see the contents of the letter which had been put into her hrnd by Monlravilie Any reader, who has the ie«st kncwle.Jpe of the en7i?'-^^" easily imagine the letter was mile up of encomiums on her beauty, nr.d vows of everlasting Jove and constancy; nor will he be surprised that a probable that ler mind might revert to the a«-reea- ble person and martial appearance of Montraviiie .v.±f^[i °L'°^*^' ^. > ^""g .h«=^rt is never in more — .«v. UI..U v.uenauacKed by a handsome young *- CHARLOTTE TEMPI-E. 27 x man of indifferent appearance, will, voMier. A man o' j.^^^ 5,0^ to adv?.ntage; wlien arrayed in ^ ^''^Jf >/'^, ' nee of manner, and l,ut when bf^^*^ y;/S! coSiments, are united ,, easy "Jf^f °/j^St coeSe, and military sash, to the sc;»rlet coat, siu" ^ on ali! well-a-day f^'^.f 'f^ P^-er biTt if she listens ^'T-= titUtXe" aUo"v^:r'withher,andfrom £at moment'lrhas' neither eyes nor ears for any ^^'^'w^^vdear sober matron, (if a sober matron Now, my aeai .« T)a CHAHLOTTE TEJipj,]^ from the paternal roof—when I.^ c» . wretched, her bosom torn betvv.J^' I'erpooranc! cnme and her v.le betrayer-when T"''^ '""^ ^'^^ me the good old man stooSt„ " /''"•^y ?"'"*« ^ penitent, while every teaTfrL u"^ ''^^ keeping ed by drops fromZ b eedS J^" ^ '^ ""'^''^'•^ glows w ith honest indignrtlon ^. w ?'''• 1"^ ^««o™ er. extirpate tho. Jn^ e/^SS ^J by paternal approbation^ be t Ld "f •''"'=*'"^'^^ the days of romance: no womfn ' V' "o^^Past with contrary to her mvn^ r ^'^^ *'« ^un away down each momS Tnd r^n '"'!'*?" •" *«« '^"eel l^epyou free from tf^Sin ^ ^'l '''"'* ^^^^^en to suffer you to be tSerpCfor'S^V''' '* P'-««e to natural inclination whR n.nf ''"'^^ *« ""^^'s' *e cepts of religion and Sue ''°'"''^'' *'' *<^ P^e- CHAPTER VII. NATURAL SENSP^ #^r, « .-in.i::,trife've'n.^J '^K""- T^''^ "^'^* - lo"e, spiting herself whe!,?!"""'^"^'" ^^W Char- ge- 1: «. nay, I an sure f/ '^ ^"^^''^^ ^er apart- pected to be^Very haZ L^' "*'' "S^'' ^^^ I ex- ed." , ^ "^P^' •'"' was sadly disappoint- «erve to render the «vl°n5 ll"°' "«.? ^at conld JJ„»-T,,^»>**«k . CHARLOTTE TEM^LIZ. 29 "True," said Charlotte: "but I thought the gentlemen were very free in their manner ; I won- der you would suffer them to behave as they did.** " Prithee, don't be such a foolish little prude,' said the artful woman, affecting anger ; " 1 invited you to go, in hopes it would divert you, and be an agreeable change of scene; however, if your deli- cacy w^as hurt by the behaviour of the gentlemen, you need not go again; so tliere let it rest." " I do not intend to go agnin, said Chaltotte, gravely taking off her bonnet, and beginning to prepare for her 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 migh- ty sense of propriety may lead you to tell her your- f?elf : 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 pleasurer" co. anued she, letting fall some hypocritical tears, *' to see me deprived of breid, and, for an action which by the most rigid could be esteemed an inadvertancy, lose my character, and be driven again into the world, where I have already suffered all the evils attend- ant on poverty." This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnera- ble part ; she rose from her seat, and taking Made- mo^'selle's hand — *'you knov/, my dear La Rue," i*ai(J bi.e /• I love you too well, to do any thing that # ♦ Ill' so CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. would injure you in my governess's opinion: I am only sorry we went out this evening." "I dont believe it, Charlotte,'' said she, assuming a little vivacity ; " for if you had nut gone out, you would not have .^een the gentlemen who met us crossing the field ; and I rather think you were pleased with his conversation." I had seen him once before," replied Charlotte, '' and thought him an agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see a person with whom one has passed several cheerful hours. But," said she, pausing, and drawing the letter from her pock- et, 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 let- ter given me by a young man, withont first ffivintr it to her." '^ " Lord bless you, my dear girl," cried the teach- er, smiling, *«have you a mind to be in leadii'^ «trnigs all your life time.^ Prithee open the letter read it, and judge for yourself; if you show it to your mother, the consequence will be, you will bo taken from school, and a strict guard kept over you: so you will stand no chance of ever seeing thesinart young officer again. ^ *' I should not like to leave Fchool yet," replioil Charlotte, " till I have attained a greater proficien- cy in my Italian and music. But you can if you please Mademoiselle, take the letter back to JVfontni- ville, and tell him T wiah Iiitti ytrr^M j^^* ^^.^^,^* •^-•♦s any propriety, enter into a clandestine ccrresion^ i,-a||» CHARLOTTE TEMfLl!. 81 deuce with him." She laid the ietter on the table, and bes;aii,to undress herself. « Well." said La Rue, « I vow you are an unac- countable girl: have you no curiosity to see the in- Se now ? For my part I could no more let a letter oHrlressed to me lie unopened so long, than I could tSracieT; he writes a good hand," contmued le turning the letter to look at the superscription. « 'Tis well enough," said Charlotte, drawing it *°«Heis^I"eenteel young fellow," said La Rue, carelessly folding up her apron at the same tme; " but I think he is marked with the small pox. " O vou are greatly mistaken," said t^harlotte, eagerly," he has a remarkable clear skin and a fine '"^tteyes, if I could judge by what.I saw'" said T a Rue " are grey, and want expression. "By nometns;" replied Charlotte. «« they are the most expressive eyes I ever saw. "Well, child, whether they are grey or black IS nf no ronseauence ; you have determined not to reaThLlS; so it is likely you will never either gee or hear from him ap;ain." , ,r j • n^ Charlotte took up the letter and Mademoiselle ■ '"« He1s"most probably going to America: and if ever you should hear any account of him, it may JoSbly be that he i^^'.^^^^^^^^^f^h'shS vou ever so fervently, though his last breath shall be SenHn a prayer for V h ^ess, jt cmi be not^ 4 to you: you can feel nothing for the fate ot a man, whose letters you wiu noi vyi^n '*""• "Tim sufferings you will not alleviate, by permitting him ,■1. _ A' : 11 1.5 ! '''& ' ^Ht^iMlB^B HHfffi^ *lj|? ^ S Ma 1 ^^'''' ' n ^ 1 W^' ■ k' f i ^V ' 1 " ' ' r ? *■ ■ ^ *■ * R. t^ i ' Ir 1 f 52 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. pray 'ShS^t^^t''^'^^'"^-'^- -^- =^^«ent. an0ME3TI> PLEASUKE PI.ASNED. . «' I think, my dear," said Mrs. Temple, laying: her hand on her husband's arm as they were walk- in- together in the garden, " I think next Wednes- day is Charlotte's birth day: now I haveformeda little scheme in my own mind, to give her an agree- able 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 a cove at the bot- tom of the garden, of which Charlotte is so fond? I have an inclination to deck this out ma fanciful manner, and invite all her little friends to Par ake of a collation of fruit, sweetmeats, and other things- suitable to the ?reneral taste of young gf sts : and to make it morl pleasing to Charlotte ^^,'51^ mistress of the feast, and entertain her visitors in Sis alcove. I know she will be dehghted ; and to. complete all, they shall have some music, and hnisft '''*^A ve"y fine pla^ indeed," said Temple smiling; <« and yoJreally suppose,! will wink a yo^^jn^u j ging the girl in this manner ? You will quite spoil her Lucy; indeed you will." -i-vrrcTom. " She is the only child wehave," said Mrs. J^"".' ple,'«ie whole tenderness of a "Jf^er^^'^IXl mation to her fine countenance; but »* was withal +»n,r.«r«^ «f. swfifitlv with thc mcck aifection ana kind compliance of a wife, that as -^he pausea, «x. pecting her husband's answer, he gazed at her ten 34 CMAHLOriK TEMPLE. I I I '• She is a good girl," said Temple. , She IS indeed," replied the fond mother evnlf .ngy." a grateful, affectionate girl; aTdTa™ ^^jll^neverlose s.ght of the dut/sh^ owetterTa- SJ^^^^u°^t" l^'^ ^^' " she must forget the ex- "^"S ^^ *'^'' ^y *e best of mothers." Mrs. Temple could not reply: but the deliVhffi,! ^sensation that dilated her hern,' spa kS in ht fn ^elhgent eyes, and heightened the'verSo„ "^niel f, S, l^.^l'' °!^^''^«'»'>'selle's arm, hastily enter- aie. m. C^i) CHAPTER X. WHEN WE HAVE EXCITED CUIIIOSITY, IT 1» BUT AN ACT OF GOOD NATURE TO GRAT- IFY IT. Montraville was the youngest son of a gentleman of fortune, whose family being numerous, he wa» obliged to bring up his sons to genteel professions, by the exercise of which, they might hope to r iso themselves into notice. . ,,., " My daughters (said he) have been educated like ceutle women; and should I die before they are set- tied, 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 dependence: my boys with only moderate incomes, when placed in the church, at the bar, or in the field, may exert their talents, make them- selves 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: xt is certain I have interest to gain you promotion; but be assured that intierest shall never be exerted, un- less by your future conduct you deserve it. Ke- member therefore your success in life appends en- tirely on yourself. 'I'here is one tuing * uiins.*- b2 42 CHARLOTTE TB3ip|;,B. my duty to caution you against: the precipitancy with which young men frequently rush into matri- monial engagements, and by their thoughtlessness draw many a deserving woman into scenes of pov- erty and distress. A soldier has no business to think o^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 afflic- tion. If, indeed, a woman, whose fortune is suffi- cient to preserve you in that state of independence, which I would teach you to prize, should generous- ly bestow herself on a young soldier, whose -chief hope of future prosperity depended on his successes 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 intoa pr cipi- tate 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 that a narrow income and increasing family can inflict, I will leave you to enjoy the blessed fruit of your rashness; for by all that is sacred, neither my inter- est nor my fortune shall ever be exerted in your fa- vor. I am serious," continued he: '* therefore im- print this conversation on your memory, and let it mfluence 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 VOlir llftarf lX7l^/ir» -.r^i, V^rvl,r^l^ 4.U ^ .-4 ^^ your choice, the children of your afTection involved CHARLOTTE TKMPLE. 43 in penury and distress, and reflected Aat it was yowr own folly and precipitancy which had bee« the prime cause of their suffering." t.„,„„i,-. '* As this conversation p^^^^ ''"V^wl.r Tt w"; fore MontraviUe took leave of his father, it was deeply impressed on his mind: when therefore. Sour came with him to the place of assignation with Charlotte, be directed him to enquire of the ?reich woman what were Miss Temple's expecta- tions in rearard to fortune. ^ , ^. Mademoiselle ii:formed him, that though Char- lotte's father possessed a genteel nidcpendonce, it was by no means probable that he could give his dauehter mcire than a thousand pounds; and in case Sid not marry to bis liking, it was possible he might not give her a single sous; nor did it appea the^least likely, that Mr. Temple would agree tohci union vvUh Jyonng man on the point of embarking '''£j:^itv:..^or. concluded it was i-POS^ blehe should ever marry Charlotte Temple, sna what enJhe proposed to himself by cont« the acouaint^nce he had commenced with hei, lie dia SaUhat moment give himself time to enqua'c. it' tBll u CHAPTER XI. CONFLICT OP LOVE AN» DOTY. Almost a week was now gone, and Charlotte con- tinued every evening to meet M^^fraviHe a.d in her heart every meeting was resolved to be th'- 1-*^^^ v„* „i„„i ,inK«n Montrnville at parting, would earn- estly" entreat^^ne more inter^'iew, that treacherous ^ ■ r ' 44 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. Se'S'i'5^*^''''J-fu°'^ forgetful of its resolution pleaded the cause of the enemy so ^werfullv that olhSr.7'' ""^''.^ J° ''^'^'- Another ;';^:dt o her meeting succeeded; and so well did Montra- viHe mprove each opportunity, that the heedless «^rl at length confessed no idea could be so painful to Was that of never seeing him again. ^ .. Ik £r"'!*'^!l "^"'^'^ ^^ parted," said he. smile <'^nw """•?•," '•eplied Charlotte, forcing a smile, how can it be avoided ? My parents would be hl,T.T* ''^ ""-^ ""'«"•' and even could they inarSf *° "P^T-^ ^^ '*' '^^^ ^^ould I bear to hi separated from my kind, my beloved mother?" inc CharfoS' °'' ^'°"' P'"'^'^*^ """'' '"^'^ y°" <^- down • '"f hi ^°" '^'1 *^' blushing and looking flown, 'I hope my affection for them will ever "^r./TK'"f™^'"S the laws of filS duty." '' nn^ i!;^ • Charlotte," said MontraviUe gravel v and letting go her hand «' since that is the^cS I had feTf "^T^i "Jy^^'f ^"tf^ fallacious h^p'es thouihMh /" ^"^ *'?'"8 '» th« ^°rtd besides. I daSs S thf" ''""'l^*^^ "^y ^^'^^ h^^« braved the aangers of the ocean—that you would, bv vour af vT^nd tdth ' ""''' f ^^-^ the^haffi; of war, and, had it been my fate to fall, that vour ten. m7p?LTe"S """'Z "^^ ^°"^ °f cleatllra'nS smcLth ffi r !! ^"°*^'" "'°'^''^- ^"t farewell. Char- lotte ! I see you never loved me. I shall now w4 Sfmtt;"?.'^ '^" ''''' *^^P"^- me of rsrnse in «« 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 honor, and tiiat it was to ensure your felicity by an union with him, to which you feared they would never have given their assent, chat you left their protection, they will, be assured, forgive an error which love alone occasion- ed, and when we return from America, receive you with open arms and tears of joy." Belcour and Mademoiselle heard this last speech; conceiving it a proper time to throw in th^ir advice and persuasions, approached Charlotte, and ^ well seconded the entreaties of Montraville. that finding Mademoiselle intended going with Belcour, and feelinff her own treacherous heart too much mcun- ed to Iccompany them, the hapless Charlotte con^ sented in an evil hour that the next evening they should bring a chaise, to the end of the town, and that she would leave her friends, and ttoow herseit entirely on the protection of Montraviue. - ^ui should you," said she, looking earnestly at him, hep I ^ 40 CHARLOTTE TEMPL^; r''ii'F eyes full of tears, « should you, foreetful of vft„r foreign shore " ^ °" ** mnmin^*^® "°' so meanly of me," said he. " The moment we reach our place of destination, Hymen shal sanctify our love: and when I shall forffet v^ur goodness, may heaven forget me " ^ anil' Is'ihef Sf ^"'' '^'"5 on Mademoiselle's «»rm, as tliey walked up the garden toffethpr <« r coZntiTJ^\!^''- 'r§^' toliave reSbeTed. iu consenting to this intended elopement. " n*.rpr r "® * ^^"^^ S'rl, said Mademoiselle- vou never knew your own mind two .ninutes at a iime Just now you declared Montraville's happines* w!; whai you prized most in the world: and now r «nn Sre'eCto'^'"' '^"'"^ insuredl^atlpjni X agreeing to accompany him abroad » ^ mv so1.pt,,! '^? -^Pf"^' '"^P"^'^ Charlotte. « from S V "* '^'"'^ discretion points out the imcro: pnety ofmy conduct, inclination urges meZtJ no't'K?' fi^^'^.lf ti<=k!» said Mademoiselle: "am qualmf"'"^ "''^ y^"' ^"'^ ^° ^ ^^^1 ^ny of thes^ er'la^d ChSe'"''''"'^' ' tenderfather and moth- whlt^i"do''>st'^ .?''l°*^' " ^"* y«» ''« »ot feel 147) # 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 art thou fall'n ! — When Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and pale cheek discovered to Madame Pu Pont the little repose she had taken. " 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 Mauam, very well, replied Char- lotte, attempting to smile: but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last night, and my spirits are depressed this morning." " Come, cheer up my love, said the governess; I believe I have brought a cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter from your good mam- ma, and here is one for yourself." . . -, Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words: , n ^ t^ " As to-morrow is the anniversary of the nappy day that gave my beloved girl to the anxious --shes of a maternal heart, I have requested your go rn- ess to let you come home and spend it with us ; nd as I know you to be a good affectionate child, and make it your study to improve in those branches ot ^^.,^of;r.r. xirVki/^ii vrnii l^nnw Will ffivB most pleasure ;s to your delighted parents, as a reward for your mu- ence and attention, I have prepared an agreeable § 48 CbABLOTTS rxMvx.r. *' lt'< I'f surprise for your reception. Your erandfatber « ger to embrace the darling of his SS w^J f,T» • • -^ ''™ ^y "•"« o clock. Your dear fufureScVtv 'XW"''' '•''!!! ^^your health and juiure »elicity, which warms the heart of mv dear Charlotte's affectionate mother, myaear „r. • ,. . ^- TEMPLE." x.),.r» k"'""''''^''!"- ^"^•^ Charlotte, forgettinc S'r 1*°"^^' *« '^««r ^oZ have rSed^ instead of distressing you. " »^«y oicea, orinJ*,*!"^" rejoice me," 'replied Charlotte, endeav- oring at composure, " but I was praying for merit parStsT'*' "°''*'"'"^'' attentio'os^oftie bSof ocilT''" '?''/'i^ht'" said Madame Du Pont " to tf dtrvTS; ?''"T '''^' y°" -ayTon'tinue Wf^ f lu "^ '°^®- Continue my dear Char- lot te, ,n the course you have everpursued and vm^ ;; I A foSeStSt;evef rSirm^^^^^^^^^^ *!"^«^°cf e step is not yet taJen u"' not . . late to recede from the briik of a prec p ce from sw/nSTen^S'/e.'^^^'^ *^ '^'^^'^^^^^ ^ of La^Rue ^'""^i^i/!?*' ^^d flew to the apartment sL^Xfr.:. 13 Mademoiselle !» said she, «« lam ierharraZrr''"^fl^*™™ destruction! This let- ftas saved me: ,t has opened my eyes to the folly CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 49 Ler, ea- rt, win n readi' ur dear ilth and Qy dear getting B8 as in ' these Jeming joiced, ndeav- r merit best of , " to itinue Char- id you )wn." h her, jfle- Ot I* J from ruin^ ment lam I let- folly I was so near committing. I will not go, Mademois- elle ; I will not wound the hearts of those dear pa- rents 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 ta- ken, and it is not in my power to alter it. I shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed hour, and shall not be surprised at any outrage Montraville may commit, when he finds himself disappointed. In- deed I should not be astonished was he to come iin- mediately here, and reproach you for your instabili- ty in the hearing of the v/hole school; and what will be the consequence ? you will bear the odium of having formed the resolution of elopiiig, and ev- ery girl of spirit will lau^h 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 that adores you, and whom in your heart you prefer to all other men, and that you are separated from him forever.* This eloquent harrangue was given with such volubility, that Charlotte could not find an oppor- tunity tg interrupt her, or to offer a single word till the w^p4 was finished', and then found her ideas so conftr' /that she knew not what to say. V ^th she determined that she would go with .ihofselle to the place of assignation, convince utraviile of the necessity of adhering to the res^ c II 50 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. r.*. olution of remaining behind; assuring him of her af: fection, and bid him adieu. Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and ex- ulted in the certamty of its success. « How shall I rejoice,' said she, 'in this triumph of reason over in- clination and when in the arms of my affectionate parents, hit up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I look back on the danger 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; 'm- resolution is fixed,' said she: I will sacrifice lovt to duty.' Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they pro- ceeded softly down the back staire and out of the garden gate. Montraville and Belcour were read- to receive them. *v^"j ' Now,' said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his aims, • you are mine forever.' 'No,' said she, withdrawing from his embrace 1 am come to take an everlasting farewell ' It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued; suffice it to say, that Montraville used Chailottes resolution began to waver, and he drew her almost imperc ^ptibly towards the chaise. 1 cannot go,' said she : « cease dear Montraville ^Cru^ru *,r'^""*: '•^"gion. duty forbid.' Cruel Charlotte,' said he, ' if you disappoint mv ardent hopes, by all that is sacred, ftis ha^ '.hall Z wC^r^^^-^^^^"^^- ' -n„ot-wi%y 'r I act?''*''"' '"^ *''"' ''^'''•' '^'^ Charlotte, hot'shall ^SBS^*'*«j5 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. SI her af^ md ex- shall I ver in- tionate en as I loiselle in her e; but she; I y pro- of the reail3'' in his brace, n that 3 used Jssful, drew aville [.' it my il put live shall ' Let me direct you,' said Montraville, lifting her into the oiaise. 'Oh! my dear forsaken parents'/ cr d Ciiar- lof;^ he chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms of her betrayer CHAPTER XIII- CRUEIi DISAPPOINTMENT. < What pleasure,* cried Mr. Eldridge, as he step-^ Dcd 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 crrowinff up in every virtue that adorned the mmds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some few years since, that every sense of joy was buried in the crave of my dear partner and son. But my l^ucy, bvher filial affection, soothed my so-1 to peace; and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my heart, and opened such new scenes of dehght to my view, that I almost forget that I have ever been un- ^When the chaise stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth. So much do the emotions ot the soulinfluence the body. , ,. ^ ' It was half past eight o'clock. The ladies were assembled in the school room, and Madanre Du Pont was preparing to ofter the morning sacrihce^ot prayer and praise, when it was discoverer -.«av Mademoiselle and Charlotte were missing. ^ She is busy, no doubt,' said the governess 52 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. r-J .preparing Charlotte for the little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget ouf duty to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers.' The lady that went to summon them, soon re- turned and informed the governess, that the room was locked, and that she had knocked repeatedly, but obtained no answer. * Good heaven!^ exclaimed 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 mstantly a scene of confusion. The garden, the pleasure grounds, were searched to no purpose. Ev- ery apartment rung with the names of Miss Temple and Mademoiselle; but they were too distant to near; and every face wore the marks of disappoint- ment. ^^ Mr, Eldndge was sitting in the parlor, eagerly expecting his .grand-daughter tc 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 fearsome accident has befallen my dear girl.' The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance discovered that something extraor- dinary 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 Dn ront, * do not frighten yourself -jinnecessarily. She CHARLOTTB TEMPLB. &a i^^ not in the house at present: but as Mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily return in safety; and I hope they will b^th 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 vour leave, with no other company or protector than that French woman ? Pardon me, Madam, I mean no reflections on your country, but 1 never liked Mademoiselle La Rue; I think she was a very im- proper person to be entrusted with the care of such a girl as Charlotte Temple, or to be suffered to tako her from under your immediate protection.' « You wrong me, Mr. Eldridge,* said she, * if j'ou impose I have ever permitted your grand-daughter to go out, unless with the other ladies. ! would to heaven I could form any probable conjecture con-, cerning her absence this morning; but it is a mys- tery to me which her return aloue can unravel.' Servants were now dispatched to every place -where there was the least hope of hearing any tid- ings of the fugitives, but in vain. Dreadful were tlie Lours of horrid suspense which Mr. Eldridge pa?sed till twelve o'clock, whtn 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, witn a heavy heart, to return to his anxiously-expecting children, when Madame Du Pont received the following note with- uut either name or date. >- ^ . * Miss Temple is well, and wishes to relieve the anxietv of her parenis, by Ictiljjg theai knowtiie %% <&4 iJllAULOTTE TEMPLE. ! m .) ,>i 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 eftectual 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 as 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 in- nocence and gentleness of her disposition, she cdn- ciuded that it must have been the advice and ma- chinations of La Rue, which led her to this impru- dent action. She recollected her agitation at the receipt of her mother's letter, and saw in it the con- flict of her mind. * Does that letter relate to Charlotte?' said Mr. Eldridge, having waited some time in expectation of Madame Du Font's speaking. * It does,' said she. ' Charlotte is well, but can- not return to-day.' *Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from her fond expecting parents?' * You distract me with these questions, Mr. El- dridge. 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 hetrayed; the darling, the comfort of my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had died but T^psferdi^vr' A violent gush t)f grief in some meaT Mrs Temple. He rose hastily, ana rushing into ;t Vartment where she was, folded 1»« ,-"««, ''^';;'^. her and suying-' Let us be patient, my dear Lucy. nSure iSved his ahnost bursting heart by a friend- '^ Cw anTone, presuming on his own philosopV.^ ic temper>ok with an eye of contempt on the ina« '^ho cS ".dulge a ~;s weakrjss le^^^^^^^ .nPinher that man was a father, and ne wuimen St^he misery which wmng those drops from a no. '''MfsTrpKeginning to be a little more com- posed but 5 in^4nin/her child vvasd^d her Lsband, gently tal^i«£^er har>d "'^d- Jou are '"f Br'alm'r^y'de^rest'^^^^^^^^^ I will tell yon alL'^s'ai^Mr'.TLple 'You must not go.mdeed y^^¥rv^y^i^:u:^ZSi.^oo^.of firmness and composure? ' tell'me the truth. I beseech you Uannot bear this :ht or might not, as it suited his convenicncCj convey thcni on shore. All Charlotte's hopes and wishes were now cen- tered in one, namely, that the fleet might be detain- ed at Spithead till she could receive a letter from her friends: but in thii? she was disap])ointed; for the second morning after she went on board, tho. signal was made, the fleet weighed anchor, and in a few hours (the wind being favorable) they bid adieu to the white cliffs of Albion. 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 offtc^be married, and that whex; the indissoluble knot was tied, she would return with the partner, she had chosen, and entreat their blessing and forgiveness. * And shall we not forgive her?' said Mr. Tem- ple. * Forgive her!' exclaimed the mother= Oh ves. whatever bo her errors, is she not our child? "iUJtl .though bowed even to the earth with ^h.uiie and A'"*^' CHARLOTTE TKMPI.K. 61 remorse, is it not our duty to raise the poor penitent, and vvhisper peace and comfort to her despond.ns 5' would she but return, with rapture would I Sw heTto my heart, and burj- every remembrance of her faults in the dear embrace.' ru„riotte But still day after day passed on, anaCh^'^'X did not appear, nor were any tidrngs to be heard of her Yet each rising morn was welcomed by soni*. new hope-S eve^ug brought with it d ^o- - n,ent. At length hope was no more; despair usur pedher place; and the mansion ,^lMf\.Tnfmle the mansion of peace, became the habitation of pale, dejected melancholy. ,, The cheerful smile that was wont to adorn the face of Mrs. Temple, was fled,,and had ,t not heen for the suDDort of unaflfected piety, and a concious- nes of hSg set before her child the fairest exarn- ple, she must have sunk under this heavy, afll.c- ^"'"since ' said she, ' the severest scrutiny cannot charge me wUh any breach of duty to have deserv- ed tS ^vere chastisement, I will bow before the Jower thaUn'flicts it with humble rcggj^'-^^^ J« «riii • nnv shall the duty of a wife be totally aosoroeu Se fLlin"s of a mother. I will endeavor to L'm morrcheerful, and by appearing m some nieasure to have -n'luered g ow„ sorro^^^^^^^^^^ 2L*\hTttrpo? into'^hS' ti; Sfsfortune ha« plunged hir^My father too ^e— ^^e' of attention. I must not, by a selfish indulgence oi 1„ nwn .rrief. foreet the interest those_ two dear V:K:«7f7take in mv happiness or misery, i win weui Se on my £ tSJugh the thorn rankles m tny 62 . CHARLOTTB TKMPl^B. heart: and if by so doing I contribute in the small- est degree 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 ex- ecution of so laudable a resolution we shall leave her to follow the fortunes of the hapless victim of im- prudence and evil counsellors. CHAPTER XVI. NECESSARY DtGRESSIOIV. On board the ship in which Charlotte and Made- moiselle had embarked, was an officer of large and \niincumbered fortune and elevated rank, and whom I shall call Cray ton. He was one of those men who, having travelled in their youth, pretend to have contracted a pecu- liar fondness for every thing foreign, and to hold in contempt the productions of their own country: and this atFected partiality extended even to the wom- en. 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 ^ \is ituoi, perfect- ly 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 deem* CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 68 ed a slavery, and to return to that vortex of folly and dissipation which had once plunged her into the deepest miseries. But her plan, she flattered her- self, was now better formed. She resolved to put herself under the protection ot no man, till she had first secured a settlement. But the clandestine manner in which she left Madame Du Font's pre- vented her putting this plan in execution, tho' Bel- cour solemnly protested he would make her a hand- some settlement the moment they arrived at Ports- mouth. This he afterwards contrived to evade by a pretended hurry of business; La Rue readily con- ceiving he never meant to fulfil his promise, deter- mined to chixuge her battery, and attack the heart of Colonel Crayton. She soon discovered the partial^ ty he entertained for her nation; and having impos- ed on him a feigned tale of distress, represented Belcour as a villain who had seduced her from her friends under promise of marriage, and afterwards betrayed her, pretending great remorse for the er- rors she had committed, and declaring that whatev- er hsr affection might have been, it was now entire- ly 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 hid all renounced her, and guilt and mise- ry would undoubtedly be her future port) on through life. Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities: though the peculiar trait in his character, which we a shade over them. He was beloved for his humani* tyand benevolence by all who knew him; but he # :A Hi CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. «f it' was easy and unsuspicious himself, and became u dupe to the artifice of others. He was when very young united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps it wa? his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality he ev- -er retained for the whole natjon. He had by her one daughter, who entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. This lady was uni- versally beloved and admired, being endowed with all the virtues of her mother, without the weakness s|||, of the father: she was married to major Beauchamp, ' *"'■ and was at this time in the same fleet with her fath- er, 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 char- acter; her sole aim was to awaken a passson in his bosom that might turn out to her advantage; and in tins aim she was but too successful. For before the voyage was finished, the infatuated colonel gave > er from under his hand, a promise of marriage on their arrival aC New- York, under the forfeiture of five thousand pounds. And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious and tempestuous passage ? Natu- rally delicate, the fatigue and sickness which she endured, rendered, her so weak as to be almost en- tirely confined to her bed. Yet the kindness and attention of Montraviile in some measure contribut- ed to alleviate her sufferings; and the hope of hear- ing from her friends soon after her arrival, kept ug her spirits, and cheered many a gloomy hov^r. CHAALOTTE TEMPLX. 65 But during the voyage a great revolution took place, not only in the fort^jneof La Rue, but in the bosom of Belcour. Whilst in pursuit oi his amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended little to the in- teresting, unobtruding charms of Charlotte. But when cloyed by possession, and disgusted with the art and dissimulation of the one, he beheld the sim- plicity and gentleness of the o&er, the cotitrist be- came too striking not to fill him t once wi^i 8ur- prise and admiration. Be frec^uently conversed with Charlotte. He found her sensible, well inform- ed, 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. K^ knew that MontraviHe did not design to xnatrif her, and he formed a resolution to endeavor to gain Jier himself •^rhenever Montraville should leave her. Let not the reader imagine Bdcour'a designs were honoraWe. Alas! whaa once a woman has tbrgot the respect due to herself, by yielding tD the solicitations of illicit love, she loses all iier conse- quence, even in the eyes of the man t^^hose art has. betrayed her, and for whose sake she has ^acri&ed every valuable con^deration. The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys. A man may pity— -but he must despise. Nay, every libertine will think he has a rfght ^'i insult her with his licentious passion; and, should the unhappy creature shrhik from the insolent over- fnvA iio will dtiPAi-inffiv taunt her wi& t>retencei>f modestj'. , . C2 • II '^'^l ft* i> '•t^ (66) III .It U- h' CHAPTER XVII. A TVEDDING. Oo tbe day before their arrival at New- York after dinner, Crayton arose from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, thus addressed the com- pany — * As we are now nearly arrived at om^ destined porta I think it but my duty to inform you, my friends, that this lady,* taking her hand, * has plac- ed 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 resolu^on, the morning after we land, to give her an undoubted title to my favor and protection, by honorably^unitingmy fate toher's. I would wish every gentleman here, therefore, to remember that her honor henceforth is mine. And,' continued he, looking at Belcour, ^ should any man presume to epeak m the least disrespectfully of her, I shall not hesitate to pronounce him a scoundrel.' Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bow- ing 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 bim by the hand with ridiculous gravity, apd left the cabin. The truth was hn Trns crlnrl in o-ftf TiA €\f Til T?n*. • CHARLOTTE TEMPLE 67 k after lacing com- stined U my 3 plac- Q and rough throw ilities. steem fixed e her >n, by wish r that 3d he, me to til not bow- much Lionel >f any ofhis ivity. 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 her- self, o.ly been urged by the force of her attach- nient to Belcour, to quit her friends, and to follow him to the seat of war. How wonderful then, she should resolve to marry another man ! it was cer- tainly extremely wrong. It was indelicate. She mentioned her thoughts to Montraville. He laugh- ed at her simplicity, called her a little ideot, and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of the world. . * K the world sanctions such t}iing:s, < tis a very I bad world, I think,' said Charlotte. ' Why I always understood that they were to have been married when they arrived at IN ew- York. I am sure Made- moiselle 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 MontravilJe, ' and then, you know, the case is •altered.' Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment \ 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 to make herself uneasy, unable to bear the silent but keen remonstrance, hastily left her, The next morning by sun-rise they found them- fielves at anchor before the city of New-York.^^ A boat was ordered to convey liie ladies Qn SUwi «" I 68 CHARLOTTB TEMPLE. Cray ton accompfinied 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 trans- port of meeting subsided, Cray ton introduced his daughter to Mademoiselle I^a 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 wjis in the same convent with his iirst wife, and though much younger, had received many to- kens of her esteem and regard.) * If, Mademoiselle,' said Mrs. Beauchamp, * y6u were the friend of my mother, you must be w orthy the esteem of all good hearts.* * Mademoiselle will soon honor our family,' said Cray ton, * by supplying the place that valuable woman filled; and as you are married, my dear, J. think you will not blame — ' * Hush, my dear sir/ replied Mrs. Beauchamp. * I know my duty too well to scrutinize your con- duct. 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,' contin- ued she, turning to Charlotte, ' who is this lovely girl ? Is she your sister, Mademoiselle r ' A blush, deep as the glow of the carnation, suf- fused the cheek of Charlotte. *itis 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, that Charlotte was the mistress of Mon- traville. vr * What a pity ! «aid Messrs. Beauchamp softly, a CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 69 /casting a most <5Dmpassionate glance at her.) But surely her mind is not depraved. The goodness of her heart is depicted in her ingenuous counte- nance.' , . ^ 4 J «rv^ T ol Charlotte caught the word pity. , * And ani l al- ready fallen so low ?' said she. A sigh escaped her, and a tear was ready to start, but Montraville ap- peared, and she checked the rising /n?otion.-- Mademoiselle went with the colonel and his daugh- ter to another department, Charlotte remamed with Montraville and Belcour. The next morning the colonel performed his promise, and La Rue became indue form, Mrs Crayton; exulted m her ow . good fortune, and dared to look with an eye of con- tempt on the unfortunate, but far less guilty Char- lotte. CHAPTER XVIII. aEFLECTIONS. " And am I indeed fallen so low," said Charlotte, ^' as only to be pitied? Will the voice of approba- tion no more meet my e^.' ? And shall I never a- gain possess a friend, whose face will wear a smile of joy whenever I approach? Alas! how thought- less, how dreadfully imprudent have I been ! I know not which is most painful to endure, the sneer ot contempt, or the glance of compassion, which is de- picted in the various countenances of my own sex: they are both equally humiliating. Ah ! my dear parents, could you now soe the child of your affec- tions, the daughter whom you so dearly l^ved,^a poor solitary being without society, here weanng 70 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 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 wo- man of character to appear in her company ; and, low as your Charlotte is fallen, she cannot associate with infamy." Th('se were the painful reflections, which occupi- ed 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 sapplied 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 sor- rows were forgotten while blest with his society. She w ould enjoy a walk by moonlight, or sit by him in a little arbor at the bottom of the garden, and play on the harp, accompanying it with her plain- tive, harmonious voice.— But often, very often, did he promise to renew his visits, and, forgetful of his promises, leave her to mourn her disappointment. What painful hours of expectation would she pass I She would sit at a window which looked towards a iield 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 renCwher watchful position, till the shades of evening enveloped every object m a dusky cloud. She would then renew her com- icM CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 71 plaints, and with a heart bursting with disappointed love and wounded Bensibility, retire to a bed which remorse had strewed with thorns, and court in vaiu that comforter of weary nature (who seldom visits the unhappy) to come and steep her senses in ob- livion. Who can form an adequate idea of the sorrow that preyed upon the mind of Charlotte? The wife, whose bosom glows with affection for her husband, and who, in return, meets only indifference, can but faintly conceive her anguish.— Dreadfully pain- ful is the situation of such a woman ; but she has many comforts, of which poor Charlotte was de- prived. The duteous, faithful wife, though treated with indifference, has one solid pleasure within her own bosom: she can reflect that she has not deserv- ed neglect— that she has ever fulfilled the duties of her station with the strictest exactness; she may hope, by constant assiduity and unremitted atten- tion, 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 favors with her esteem ; and from all these circumstances she gathers com- fort; but the poor girl, by thoughtless passion led astray, who, in parting with her honor, has forfeit- ed the esteem of the very man to whom she has sac- rificed every thing dear and valuable in life, feels his indifference to be the fruit of her own folly, and laments her want of power to recall his lost ^affec- tion: she kfiows, there is no tic but lioiior. and that, rr,- II 72 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. I- 3|l, .it- in a man who has been guilty of seduction, is but very feeble: he may leave her ma moment of shame and want ; he may marry and forsake her forever- and should he do so, she has no redress, no friendly soothing companion to pour mtu her wounded mind the balm of consolation, no benevo- lent hand to lead her back to the path of rectitude; she has disgraced her friends, forfeited the goud opinion of the world, and undone herself, bhe feels herself a poor solitary being in the midst of sur- rounding multitudes; shame bows her to the e urth, remorse tears her distracted mind, and guilt, pover- tv and disease close the dreadful scene; she sinks unnoticed to oblivion. The finger of contempt may point out, to some passing daughter ot youth- ful 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! she has a heart of sensibility; she will stop, and thus address the unhappy victim of folly :— " Thou hadst thy faults ; but surely thy suffer- ingshave expiated them; tlune errors brought thee to an mitiraely grave ; thou wert a fellow-creature — ttiou hast been unhappy; then be those errors for- g;otteii." , , ., . 1 Ther> , as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear will fall, and consecrate the spot to charity. ^ For ever honored be the sacred drop of humanity. The angel of mercy shall record its source, and the o/^..i from \xj\\at\r(*. it sDruns* shall be immortal. My dear Madam, contract not your brow mtaa frown of (igapprobatign* I mean liot to extenuate 1 ?4* ' 3 CHARLOTTE Ti:Mri-E. 73 mt of ce her 2SS, no u her mevo- itude; goud e feelF )f sur- earth, pover- I sinks iten^t youth- 1 sister gaiety I fame, I! Oh )p, and sufFer- ht thee feature ors for- I weed ate the nanit}'. md the f inta^a tenuator 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 pros- pect of futurity) 1 say, my dear Madam, when we consider this, we surely may pity the faults of oth- ers. 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 endeavor to raise and reassure 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 showeis upon it. Oh! thou benevolent Giver of all good! how shall we, erring mortals, dare to look up to thy mer- cy in the great day of retribution, if we now un- charitably 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 left her independent mistress of an unincumbered income of seven hundred a year, of fV»/» Afff* nf piahtppn. She was a ffirl of a lively disposition, and humane susceptible hearty She re- -II f ' . ■'■ 4 I I i' I 74 CHARLOTTE TEMPLi;. sided in New-York with an uncle, who loved her too well, and had too high an opinion of her pru- dence to scrutinize her actions so much as would have heen 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 ioa&i. MoBtraville 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 ash- Fortunately, no live* were lost, and by the as- es. siduity of the soldiers, much valuable property v/as saved from the flames. In the confusion, an old gentleman came up to Montraville, and, putting a small box into his hands, cried,— «^ Keep it, my goodSir, till I come to you again;" and then rush- ing again into the thickest of the crowd, Montra- ville saw him no more. He waited till the fire was quite extinguished, and the mob dispersed: hut in vain: tl.e old gentleman did not appear to claim his property; and Montraville, fearing to make an en- quiry, lest he should meet with imposters who might lay claim, without any legal right to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it up; he natarally.im- agined 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 enquu'y being made, he began to be uneasy, and resolved to ex- amine the contents of the box, and if they were as he supposed, valuable, to spare no pains to discover the owner, and restore them to him, ^ Upon open- ing it, he found it contained jewels to a large amouiit, about two hundred pounds in money, and a nainia- - iOf,.. '' ■»• '.roHKlft^' ' ,*fW!iiiiJ!"'Wr' CHARLOTTB TEMPLE. 75 ture picture, Fct for a bracelet. On examining the Se. he thought ho had «omewhere.een feature, verv like it, but could not recollect where A tew days after, being at a public assembly, he saw M.s^ Franklin, and the likeness was too evident to be misSen he enquired among his brother ofli.W anv of them knew her, and found one who was up- nn terms of intimacy with the family: « then in- troduce me to her immediately," said he, for I am certSn I can inform her of something which will ^^ZS^^t^f^^: ^und .le was ¥hs4oL evening Montravmewa^^^^^^ Julia's l^-d;*e lively ^^^^^^^^ J- wU. flje el^e^ Tg" ciTtrand Slged ^^^^^^^^ er/thing that was polite and tender t^Juha Bu «n retirinff, recollection returned.—" What am i Xn?"" laid he- '• though 1 cannot marry Char- ge cannot be villain fnough to forsake her , nor ff' T ^1 T love Julia Franklin with ardor and sincerity; yet, when in her presence^ I am sensible of my own in- CHARLOTTE TEMPLE, 77 ability to offer a heart worthy of her acceptance, '^"rrof thSaiLM thought., Montraville walk- Pd out to see Charlotte. She saw him approach, i ran out to meet him: she banished from her countenanci the air of discontent -1-J. -^ JP^ peared when he was absent, and met him with a ^"alhfetyou had forgot me, Montraville," «aidshe " and was very unhappy . - I shall never forget you, Charlotte," replied he. ^TJrL'commoi gravity of his countenance, and ^^?.Srfn»;?'' :r£^1ourhand ishot. y^S^'^Sy'SiZ^, as he turned ''T^t ile ' 'coSueTshe, tenderly. «' you sh 11 go to bed', and I will sit by and watch you; vou will be better when you have slept. eide.sunk into a profound sleep, tiom wait awoke not till late the next mommg. m " iV liSJ (78) HF; CHAPTER XX. Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching forth her hand to raise a fallen sister. CHAPTER OP ACCIDENTS. When Charlotte awoke, she missed Montraville. B>it thinking he might have arisen early to enjoy the beai -iesof the morning, she was preparmg to lol- lov him, when, casting her eye on the table, she saw a note, and opening it hastily, found these words :— , • , a :p " Mv dear Charlotte must not be surprised, it she does not see me again for some time; unavoida- ble bMsiness will prevent me that pleasure. Me as- sured, I am quite well this morning; and what your fond imagination magnified into illness, was noth- ing more than fatigue, which a few hours rest has entirely removed. Make yourself happy, and be assured of the unalterable frie^J^^Jj^P^yiLLE." «' Friendship!" said Charlotte emphatically, as she finished the note, '« is it come to this at last Alas poor forsaken Charlotte I tl.y doom is now but too apparent. MontraviUe is no longer interested in thy happiness: and shame, remorse, and disap- pointed love, will henceforth be thy only attend- '■^Thouph these were the ideas that involuntarily rnsb«d nnon the mind of Charlotte as she perused 'the'fataf note, yet af'era few hours had elapsed tua (jvren Hope, again took possesion ofher bo?oro, ai.a CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 7» ung y the ) fol- she these d, if oida* ►e as- yoiir noth- st has id be ^* ly, as last ? w but rested disap- ttend- itarily 3riised ed the Dj ur44 ^flattered herself she cou^^^^ discover an air of tenderness mine ^^ ^^^ left, which had at first e^aped ner ^^.^ certainly cannot be so base ^^^o J^^ does he not she; «' and in Bf "S J^^^f ^ S tm^«'^* '"Y^f " promise to protect me? ^ win no ^^^j._ ^ith these causeless fears? J ^^^J P ^^ ^e so un- dence in his honor; and sure ne win just as to abuse it'' ^^^^^ ^f reasoning Just as she naa oy "'",,, jiesrree of com- broughther mind tosome tolerable degree posure, she. was «MX'^f„^c\^Xtte's countenance. The dejection visible »« Cto'Xe, at once told her swoln eyes and n«g»f t^^^/^noubt but Mon- him she was ^n^appy he made no -^i^ns, traviUe had, by ^^.f^^^^J^'lto rouse her jealousy. and was resolved, ^^Vo^^*^^^ that means occsaion urgeher to reproach hun, and by ina ^^^^.^^^ a breach between them "^'^^. ^^^ willUsten her that she l^'^.^ "^f^;,,/trre^'enge his slights.'' to my P^^™' l\VlitUe of the female heart ; and Belcour knew but "tiie oi u ^^ j,g. what he did know, was^ordy tho^e Jt solute lives. He ^^^J "^^f ^^J" et retain so strong fall a victim to ^'^P^'^^^f^YS ho"or and con- .. ,ense of honor and reject with ^^ ^^^, of tevdnge. ^ , jj,<„e he went, he S» 3««e?X?ie hour of herWe. mt^. fl 80 CHARLOTTE TEMPLK. % We will now return for a moment to Colonel Cray ton. 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 grea;t misfortune he had con- ceived a sincere affection for her; she saw her own power, and with the art of a Circe, made every ac- tion appear to him in what lighi; 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 fath- er's affection, and grieved that he should be so en- tirely sw^ayed by an artful, and she much feared, an infamous woman. . Mrs. Beauchamp was mild and engaging; she loved not the hurry and bustle of a i.ity, and had prevailed on her husband to take a house a few miles from New- York. Chance led her into the same neighborhood with Charlotte: their houses stood within a short distance of each other, and their gar- dens joined: she had not been long in her new hab- itation 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 de- prived of honor, friends, and all that w^as valuable in life, she was doomed to linger out a wretched ex- istence in a strange land, and sink broken hearted into an untimely grave.—* Would to heaven I oould snatcn her from so hard a fate,' said she; * but the merciless world has barred the door of compassion against a poor weak girl, who, perhaps, had she but f.^^ \riT,A AvJonrl fn ri^isp and re-assurc her, would CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. SI oladly return lo peace and virtue, ^ay, even the woman who dares to pity, and endeavor to recall a wandering sister, incurs the sneer of contempt and Sule, for an action in which even angels are said ^° The longer Mrs. Beauchainp was a witness to the solitary lite Charlotte led, the more she wished to SeakTo her. And often, as she saw her cheeks wet Sh tear of anguish, she would say-' dear suffer- er how sladly would I pour mto your heart the Salmo] consolation, were it not for the fear of de- "'fiutan accident soon happened, which made her resolve even to brave the scoffs of the world, rather than not enjoy the heavenly satisfaction of comfort- in «• a Hpsnonding fellow creature, '"^rs Beauciimp was an early riser. She was one TT^orn nff walking in the garden, ieamng on her hus- Mnd's arm when the%ound of a harp attracted their not ce Ttey lissened attentively and heard I soft melodius voice distinctly sing the following stanzas: Thou glorious orb, supremely bright, Justrising from the sea, To cheer all nature with thy light; What are thy beams to uie ? In vain thy glories bid me rise To hail the new born day ; Alas my morning sacrifice Is still tn weep and pray. For what are nature's charms combin'd To one, whose we^ry breast 82 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. Caii 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 i>ccents of a pitying angel did she disclose to her husband Charlotte's unhappy situation, and the frequent wish she had formed of being servicea- ble to her. ' I fear,' continued she, ' the poor girl has been basely betrayed; and if I thought j^u would not blame me^ I would pay her a visit, offer her my friendship, and endeavor to restore to her heart that peace she seems to have lost,, aiid so pa- thetically laments. Who knows, my dear, laying her hand affectionately on his aim, ' w^ic knows, but she has left some kind, dflfectioiate parents to la- ment her errors; and would she ret 1 3 n, they might with rapture receive the poor perdient, and wash away her faults in tears of joy. Oh! vvhat a glori- ous reflection it would be forme, couM I be the happy instrument of restoring her. Htr hcuit may not be depraved, Beauchamp.' , « Exalted woman !' cried Beauchamp, embracing her, * how dost thou rise every moment in my es- teem. FoUow^ the impulse of thy generous heart. My Emily. Let prudes and fools censure, if they dare, and blame a sensibility they never felt^ I wiU exultingiy telii them that the truly virtuous h^ut is CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 83 op, the r cheek, motion, her?' disclose on, and ervicea- poor girl ight you sit, offer -e to her id so pa- r, laying knows, nts to la- y might nd wash a glori- [ be the Suit may nbracing I my es- iis heart, , if they t: I wilK ever inclined to pity and forgive the errors of its fel- low-creatures.' i A beam of exulting joy played round the animat- ed countenance of Mrs. Beauchamp, at the^e enco- miums bestowed on her by a beloved hi'sband; the most delightful sensations pervaded her heart, and having? breakfasted, she prepared lo visit Charlcte. /' CHAPTER XXI. A BENEVOLENT V131T. Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see- Tliat mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.— pope. \\TicnMrs. Peaucliamp w^as dressed, she began to feel embarrassed at the thought of beginning an acquaintance with Charlotte, and was distressed how t3 make the .irst visit. ' J cannot go without some introductif 1,' said she, < it will look like im- pertine it curiosity.' At length, recollecting her- self, shf: stepped into the garden, and gathering a few fine cucu'nbers, took them in her hand by v/ay of apology for her visit. A glow of conscious i^hame vermillicaed Charlotte's face as Mrs. Beauchamp entered. ' Yo'- \vill pardon me. Madam,' said she, Mor not having before paid my respects to so amiable a neighbcr: but we English peo,:le always keep up wher^iver we go, that reserve which is the charac- tiristic of our nation. Ihavo t^ken the libeT-^y to biiDo:you a few cucumbers; io^ observed you >ad none in your garden.' J. 1 ^ h^ujri IS ^y ^w-^ Si CHARt-OTTE TEMPLK. '» 3£!f,U il Charlotte, though naturally pohte and «^" ^^f ' • was so confused she could hardly speak. Her kmd visitor endeavored to relieve her, by not noticing her embarrassment. ' I am come Madam con- tinued she, ' to request you to spend the day with me. I shall be alone; and as we are both strangers in this coimtry, we may hereafter be extremely hap- nv in each other's friendship.' ' Your friendship, aiadam,' said Charlotte, b ush- ine- ♦ is an honor to all who are lavored with it. Little as I have seen of this part of the world, I am no sttanger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness ot heart and kno- ^ humanity ; but my friendship—-- ane paused t. meed her eye upon her own visible situ- ation, a.. • spite of her endeavors to suppre&s 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 conh- dence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, and rest on my assurances to exert my ut- most power to serve you? Charlotte returned a look of gratitude, hut could not speak, aud t«lr*. «eau- champ continued-' My heart was uiterc-ted lu vour behalf the first moment i saw you; and 1 only lament I had not made earlier overtures towards au acquaintance; but I flatter myselt you will hence- forth consider mc as your friend. ' 'Oh, Madam?' cried Charlotte, <• I have forfeit- ed the good opinion of all my friends. 1 have tor- sakenthem and undone myself.' ' Come, come, my dear,' said Mrs. Beauchamp, - vou must not indulge these gloomy thoughts. - V .... „.„ „,-) T >,nno CO nnhannv as vou imaguio UU aic CIIARLOTTC TCMPLE 85 I yourself. Endeavor to be composed, and let me be favored with your company at dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your friend, and re- pose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you that 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 com- posed an aspect as possible. But when the cloth was removed, she summoned all her resolution, and de- termined to make Mrs. Beauchamp acquainted with every circumstance preceding her 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 scatte.ed spirits, and then asked her, if she had ever written to her friends. ' Oh yes, Madam,' said she, ' frequently. But I have broke their hearts: they are all either dead or have cast me off for ever; for I have neve? received a single line from them.' * 1 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. 'f ! %l VVWUi'vi lk\Ji, uiu \f\j\jk sa,kk\Jk p iv%jfc w** M x--.»-jp--_-' — CHARLOTTE 8G CHARLOTTE TEMPLi:. ': k '1 ocean, threatened every moment with death, gladly return to the shore he had left to trust to its deceit- fuSmness? Oh. my dear Madam I would re- turn thou - - -i r Suatithrbecame ..o agitated, that she was obhg- ed to give over the atteri where, overcome with the (lerg:one, she fell into a slu freshed her. She arose in more adequate to the paii form, and after several atte ed the following letter to h TO MRS. ' *« Will my once kind, i deign to receive a letter fi tant child? or has she, jus tude, driven the unhappy membrance? Alas! tho\ 8houldst thou even disowi because I know I have lieve me, guilty as I am, appointed the hopes of th^ ever had, even in the m( my duty, I fled from you loved you most, my hei what you would suffer. 1 hav^ existence, will tb erased from my memor tionofsoul from hody.- cuse for my conduct? al my seducer is but too t passion is, when operatii ing with sensibility, it n ed my affection to you i not been encouraged, " step by one of my own i friendship, drew me on Charlotte was go lost a I- CHARLOTTE TEMPLE 87 B over the attempt, and retire to bed. rercome with the fatigue her mmd had un- jhefell into a slumber which greatly re- jr. She arose in the morning with spinta luate to the painful task she had to per* after several attempts, at length concludv owing letter to her mother: TO MRS. TEMPLE, NEW-VORK. my once kind, my ever beloved mother,, receive a letter from her guilty, but repen- I? or has she, justly incensed at my ingrati- venthe unhappy Charlotte from her re- ice? Alas! thou much injured mother! thou even disown me, I dare not complain, [ know I have deserved it. But yet be- , guilty as I am, and cruelly as I have dis- d the hopes of the fondest parents that gir! , even in the moment when, forgetful ot , I fled from you and happiness, even then I lu most, my heart bled at the thought of u would suffer. Oh ! never I never ! while existence, will the agony of that moment be rom my memory. It seemed like separa- loul from body .—'What can I plead in ex- my conduct.? alas? nothing! That I loved aceris but too true: yet powerful as that is, when operating in a young heart, glow- h sensibility, it never would have c^^^^®^: aiffection to you my beloved parents, had 1 n encouraged, nay, urged to take the fatal one of my own sex, who under the mask ot bip, drew me on to ruin. Yet think not your tte was go lost as to voluntarily rush into a mh M\ K^ 88 CHARLOXTE TEMPLE. |D!| ■I. ^H Ri ' '^^^B 111 ■' mt I I||H 8bIi wl^Hi liilH Mi «.» f t m life of infamy : No, my dear mother, deceived by tlie 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 hesi- tate to forsake the wretched object of his passion, whenever his capricious heart grew weary of her tenderness. When we arrived at this place, I vain- ly 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. J 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 pro- ceed?— -This man, this cruel Montraville for whom I sacrificed my honor, my happiness, and the love of my friends, no longer looks upon 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 re- morse, (and I feel the burning blush of shame die mv cheeks while I write it) tortured with the pangs of disappointed love; cut to the soul by the indiffer- ence of him; who, having deprived me of every other comfort no longer thinks it worth his while to soothe the heart where he has planted the thorn of never ceasing rescret. My daily employment is to think of you and weep, to pray for your happiness, and deplore my own folly: my nights ^re scarce more happy; for if by chance I clo^e luy ncary eye?, CHARLOTTB TEMPIJ5. 8» Bvery mises uldso at the i hesi- ssion , )f her vain- it was ded to of it, 1 from 3 love. of the n,and I pro- whom love of action , smade atrents, ith r^- me die 5 pangs idiifer- every rhile to iiornof it is to ipiness» scarce and hope some small forgetfulness of sorrow, some little time to pass in sweet oblivion, fancy, still waking, wafts melhome 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 mv 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, noint to horrid caves, where on the cold damp S-ound. in the agonies of death, I see my dear moth- er and my revered grandfather. I strive to raise vou- vou push me from you and shrieking cry; < Charlotte; thou hast murdered me!' Horror and despair tear every tortured nerve; I start and leave my restlessbed, weary and -unrefreshed. « Shocking as ihese reflections 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 mouths I shall hnng into the world an innocent witness of my gmlt.— Oh my bleeding heart! I shall bring a poor httle helpless creature, heir to infamy and shame. « This alone has urged me once more to address vou to interest you in behalf of *is poor unborn, and beg you to extend your protection to the child of voOT lost Charlotte : for my own part I have wrote so often, so frcquentiy have pleadedfor forg»vene^, and entreated to be received once more beneath the paternal roof , that having received no answer, nor even one line, I much fear you have cast me from ^^u b5 sure you cannot refuse to protect my, in- nocent infant: it partakes not of its mother s guilt. ' vh my iatHer, on uciu* cu uiuiuvi ? wv ,» v.v * - j>2 %■ t '4 li ^il ~ ■ IT n 90 CHARLOTTE TBMPI.«. anguish I inflicted on your hearts rccoihng with double force upon my own. «« If mv child should be a girl (which heaven for- bid) tell her the unhappy fate of her mother, and teach her to avoid my errors; if a boy, teach him to tement my miseries, but tell him not who ...he- ed them, lest, in wishing to revenge his mother e injuries, he should wound the peace of his father. •« And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardi- an- "f my infancy, farewell. I feel I never more must hope to see you: the anwiish of my heart strikes at the strings of life, and m a short time I shall be at rest. ! could I but receive your bles- sine and forgiveness before I died, it would smooth my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed foreteste If a happy eternity. I beseech you curse me not,myadore5 parents; hut let a tear of pity and pardon fall to the memory <>f gf J^^StTE." CHAPTER XXIII. A MAN MAT SMILE, AND SMILE AND BE A VILLAIN. While Charlotte was enjoying some small ie£ee of comfort in the consoling friendship <»» fAis. Beauchamp, Montraville was advancing rapidly m his affection towards Miss Frankhn. Jul'^^.^^^an amiable girl; she saw only the fair side of his char- acter; she possessed an independent fortune and re- fHved to be happy witft wie m*»u ui iiw ut^su '. w^- -^6,=- 18 rank and fortune were by no means so exaiteu •■-^ '»^- .n.°^^Sj„^Ss L* with Charlotte s s"^""" • r-„„i.:n» her at such a would be a double "4^,!y»"Sn while honor, time: and to marry M>99 F'^'Jr\™'^^J»^^ gtiU to humanity, every ^cred law. ^^^^^ him^^^^ ^^ protect and support Charioue, waa which his soul shuddered. ^ He communicated his "uejme^^^^^^ ed with somebody else if she h^J not wun y ..Would to heaven," said Montraviue, neve'seen her; W^^J^^SSl lo?e andTe- mentary passion of desire; but I shall lo ^^^^^^ vere Julia Franklin as long as » {J!', y'^^uid be poor Charlotte in her present situation wu tjruel beyond description. M o»- T" """^ KAptimental fnend, saia k '^"-^ > i Mi^-: IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I S ^ III ^ tiS, 11 2.0 1.8 |]l.25 1.4 J4 6" — -> PhntnoranViir Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 ,\ -^■^^ \\ '% .V & ^- t^ J? =^ ^ 92 CHAni.VTTB TSMPl.tS. r .iifj^ii iiii * !■ LiL_ «' do you imagine no body has a right to provide for the brat but yourself?" Montraville started. " Sure/* said he, <« you cannot mean that Charlotte is false." *« I doji'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 Bel- cour 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 honor step between you and happiness, or your ten- derness for the peace of a perfidious girl, prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honor." '' Good heavens!" said Montraville, «* what poig- nant reflections does a man endure who sees a love- ly 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 receiv- ed advances from her, which I would not take ad- vantage of out of regard to you; but hang it, think on 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 use of opportunity, and seize the gifts of fortune wliiie they are within your reach." Montraville was too much agitated to pass a hap- py evening even in the company of JuHa Franklin: he determined to visit Charlotte early the next morning, tax her with her falsehood, and take an e^rrlasting leave of her; but when the morning CHARLOTTB T2HPLC* 93 came, he was commanded on duty, and for six weeks was pi^evented from putting his designs in execution. At length he had 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 parlor and without call- ing the servant, he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in her bedroom. 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 mat- ter? <« Treacherous, infamous girl," said he " can you ask? How came he there?" pointing to Belcour. " As heaven is my witness," replied she weep- ing, *' I do not know. I have not seen him for these three weeks. ** Then you confess he sometimes vbits 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 connection is at an end. Let Bel- cour, or any other of your favored lovers, take you and provide for you; I have done with you forev- er.* He was then go'-^g to leave her; but starting wildly from the bet., she threw herself upon her knees before him;? protested her innocence, and ei^i* 94 eHARLOTTU TEMPX.B, treated 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 hor» rid situation; for the sake of your unborn child, oh! epurn 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 endeavored to raise her from the ground, bat in vain; she clung about his knees entreated him to believe her innocent, and conjured 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 instant^ ly left the house and returned hastily to the cit}\ CHAPTER XXIV. MfYSTERY DEVELOPED. TJnfortunately for Charlotte, about three weeks before this unhappy rencontre. Captain Beauchamp, being ordered to Rhode Island, his lady had accom- panied him, 90 that Charlotte was deprived of her friendly advice and consoling society. The after- noon on which Montraville had visited her she had found herself languid and fatigued, and after making a very slight dinner had lain down to endeavor to recruit her exhausted spirits, and contrary to her ex^ pectations, had fallen asleep. She had not long been lain down, when Belcour arrived, for he look eve- ry opportunity af visiting her^ and striving to awa- m but do lis hor« Id, oh! I shall nt any e meet ;r from I knees mjured tempt; :e from rieked, nstant^ jit\\ -is^ weeks 3hamp, accom- of her after- he had making ivor to her ex^ ig beeR 3k eve- ^o awa- CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 0ft ken'ier resentment against Montraville. He en- quired of the servent where her mistress wasj and being told she was asleep, took up a book to amuse himself : having set a few minutes, he by chance cast his eye towards the road, he saw Montraville approaching; he instantly conceived the diabolical scheme of ruining the unhappv Charlotte in his opinion forever; he therefore stole softly up stairs, and laying himself by her side with the greatest precaution, for fear she would awake, was in that situation discovered by his credulous friend. When Montraville spurned the weeping Char- lotte from him, and left her almost distracted with terror and dispair, itfelcour raised her from the floor» and leading her down stairs assumed the part of a tender consoling friend: she listened to the argu- ments he advanced with apparent composure: but this was only the calm of a moment: the remem- brance of Montraville's recentjeruelty 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 the accumulated miseries my own imprudence has brought upon me." She then left him with precipitation, and retinng to her own apartment, threw herself on the bed, and gave vent to an agony of grief which it is im- possible to describe. It now occurred to Belcour that she might possi- bly write to Montraville, and endeavour to con- vince him of her innocence; he was well aware of her pathetic remonstrance, and sensible of the tenderness of Montraville's heart, rpsoived to pr#* 4 I CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. vent 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 Char- lotte, and returned to New- York. His first busi- ness was to seek Montraville, and endeavor to con- vince him that what had happened would ultimately tend to his happiness: he found him in his apart- ment, solitary, pensive, and wrapped in disagreeable reflections. " Why how now, whining, pining lover?*' said he clapping him on the shoulder. Montraville star- ted; a momentary flu£ntf»d thnf }u»r hiwhmnrl efimiM c«^f fnTvu'iwt) for New- York by the first opportunity; she WTote to lier Charlotte in the tenderost, most consoling- I 1 j s fe^ ■l i I 102 0HARLOTTfi TEMPLE. 1- manner, and looked forward to the happy hour, v;her^ she should again embrace her, with the most animated hope. CHAPTER XXVI. WHAT MIGHT BE EXPECTED. in the mean time the passion Montraville liad conceived for Julia Franklin, daily increased, and hj 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 sensa- tion which pervaded his bosom; and finding no ob- c^xcle 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 sup- ply her with every convenience; but should she re- quire more, let her have it, and I will see it repaid, 1 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 mo greatly to see her hence- forth leading a life of infamy? as I should always ac- cuse mvself of beinf the orimarv cause of all her errors. If she should choose to remain under yotir I^rotection, be kind to her, Belcour, I conjiuT you. CHARLOTTK TEMPLK. 103 T.fit not satiety prompt you to treat her in such a manner, as may drive her to actions which nacessi- ty might urge her to, while her better reason disap- proved of them. She shall never want a friend while I live, but I never more d( lire to behold her; her presence will be always painful to me, and a gl^^nce from her eye would call the bjlush of conscious guilt into my cheek. " I vi^ill write a letter to her, which you may de- liver when I am. gone, as I shall go to St. Eustatia the day after my union with Julia, who will accom- pany me.'* Belcour promised to fulfil the request of his friend, though nothing was farther from his inten- tions than the least design of delivering the letter, or making Charlotte acquainted with tilie provision Montraville had made for her. He was bent on the complete ruin of the unhappy giil, and supposed by seducing her to an entire dependence on him, to bring her by degrees to consent to gratify his ungen- erous passion. The evening before the day appointed for the nuptials of Montraville and Julia, the former retired early to his apartment; and ruminating on the past scenes of 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 endeavor to awaken that love of virtue in her bosom which her unfortunate attach- ment 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 se- duced, and whom, though he thought unworthy his teaderners, he w^as about to bid adieu forever! How 104 CHARLOTTK TJEMPJL.K. r m should he tell her that he U-as 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 follow- ing : TO CHARI.OTTE. «^ 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 endeavor, I could not resolve upon leaving you forever 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 imagi- nation paints the scene, when torn by contendin,"* passions, when, struggling between love and dutyl you fainted in my arms, and I lifted you into the chaise. I see the agony of your mind, when, recov- ering, yx>u 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 solicitation of Belcour. *' Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, vil- lain that I am, who first taught you the allurement of guilty pleasure; it was I who dragged you from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy; andean I, dare I tell you, it was not love prompted me 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 CharlnffA? mulH tr/^u ofiii ^r^A /^v.o*.rv^a :^ «, i:/'« ^r unoffending innocence, retiu"n to your parents; you ( HARLOTTE TEMPL.E 105 shall never want the means of support hoth for your- self and child. Oh! gracious heaven I may that child be entirely free from the rices of its fatlier and weakness of its mother. " To-morrow — but no, I cannot tell you wiiat 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 tranquility of which I have robbed you, I should be as completely happy as ever you, in your fondest hour, could wish me, but till then gloom will obscure the brightest pros- pects 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 sophilastic arguments to prevent her re- turn to virtue: but should she incline that way, en- courage 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 lilly overcharged with dew. Charlotte had now been left almost three sad companions ind'.wd; nor did anyone break in r-i 106 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called to enquire after her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavored to bring Montraville to hear reason; and once, but only once, washer mind cheered by the receipt of an affectionate letter from Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had she wrote to her per- fidious seducer, and with the most persuasive elo* quence endeavored to convince him of her inno- cence; 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 her 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 will 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 was here," she would cry, " she would certainly com- fort me, and soothe the distraction of my soul." She was sitting one afternoon, wrapped, in these melancholy reflections, when she was interrupted by the entrance of Belcour. Great as the alteration was which incessant sorrow had made on her per- son, she was still interesting, still charming; and the unhallowed flame, which had urged Belcour to plant dissention between her and Montraville, still • /» *sij,^-%i iji 5ji^ uusuiii. iit> wao uclciiuiiieu, ii pussibJe, to make her his mistress; nay, he had conceived the CHARLOTTE TE3IPL,l!:. 107 iliabolical scheme to take her to New-York, and jnaking 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 tliey not aggravated by the most in- supportable anguish of my mind." *' You are not happy, Charlotte," said he, with a look of well-dissembled sorrow. " Alas!" replied she, mournfully, and shaking her head, "how can I be happy, deserfed, and forsaken as I am, without a friend of my own sex to whom 1 can unburthen my full heart; nay, my iidelity sus- pected by tlie very man for whom I have made my- .i df a poor despised creature, an outcast from socie- ty, an object of only contempt and pity." '' You think too meanly of yourself, JVIiss Tem- ple; there is no one who would dare to treat you with contempt; all who have the pleasure of know- ing must admire and esteem you. You are lone- ly 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 dis- pel those sad thoughts, and I shall again see return- ing cheerfulness animate those lovely features.' "Ohiicver! never!" cried Charlotte, emphati- r:\\W: " the virtuous part of my sex will scorn \i\i\ ,ih ! ■ %§ m. f;i lOS CflARI.OTTE TEMPLE. I > n Im and I wil! never associate with infamy. No, Bel- cour, here let ine ))ide my shame and sorrow, here let me spend my few remaining days in obscurity, imknown and unpitied; here let me die unlament- ed; and my name sink to oblivion."—- Here her tears stopped her utterance. Belcoup was awed to silence; he dared not interrupt her; and after a mo- ment's pause she proceeded — '' I once had conceiv- ed the thought of going to New- York to seek out the still dear, though cruel, ungenerous Montraville, to throw myself at his feet, and intreat his compassion; heaven knows, not for myself: if I am no longer be- loved, I will not be indebted to his pity to redresj< niy injuries, but I would have knelt and intreated him not to forsake my poor unborn— '' She could say no more; a crimson glow rushed over her cheeks, vind covering her .ace with her hands, slie sobbed aloud. Something like humanity was awakened in Bel- cour's breast at this pathetic speech. He arose and walked towards the window; but the sellish pas- sion which had taken possession of his heart soon^ stifled these liner emotions; and he thought if Charlotte was once convinced she had no longer any dependance on Montraville, she would moni ' readily throw herself on his protection. Determin- ed, therefore', to inform her of all that had happened , he again resumed his seat; and finding she hegdii to he more composed, enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since the unfortunate rencontre in her chamber. * Ah no,' said she, ^ I fear I shall never hear from ))imo2:ain.' CHARLOTTE TKAIl'I^K. 101> '^ I am greatly of your opinion,' said Belcc^r; ' for he has been for some time past greatly attached — ' At the word ' attached a death-like paleness over- spread the countenance of Charlotte, but she appli- ed 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. O mav she beware of his art, and not trust him too far, as I have done.' ' He addresses her publickly,' said he, * and it was rumored 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 tremb- led 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 j 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 endeavor to bear them as I ought.' * I fear,' said Belcour, ' he can be that villain.' * Perhaps,' cried she, eagerly interrupting liim, ' 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.' ' TTUii men, my aear giii, saiu ne, uuucivuu iU her appearance, ' they were married on Thursday j, IW CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. and yesterday morning they sailed for Eustntia." ^Married — gone — say you?* she, cried in a dis- tracted accent; * what, without a last fiirewelU without one thought on my unhappy situation ! Oh Montraville, may God forgive yourpertidy.' She shrieked, and Beicour sprang forward just in time (o prevent her falling to the floor. Alarming faintings now succeeded each other, and she was conveyed to her bed, from whence she ear- nestly prayed she might never more arise. Eelcour staid with her that night, and in the morning found her in a high fever. The fits she had been seized with greatly terrified him; and confined as she now was to a bed of sickness, she was no longer an ob- ject of desire: it is tru^ for several days he went constantly to see her, but her pale, emaciated ap- pearance disgusted him : his visits became less fre- quent; 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 dis- grace 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. ( in ) r^ CHAPTER XXVllI. A TRIPLING RETROSPECT. * Bless my heart,' cries my young volatile reader, * I shall never have patience to get through these volumes, there are so many ahs! and ohs! so much fainting, tears, and distress, I am sick to death of the subject.' My dear, cheerful, innocent girl, for in- nocent I will suppose you to be, or you would ac- ciitelv feel the woes of iJharlotte, did conscience say, thus might it have been with me, had not providence interposed to snatch me from destruc- tion: therefore, my lively, innocent girl, I must re- quest 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 pros* perity, 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 sarcast- ic 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 guil- ty errors .> does not La Rue triumph in her guilty shame, jaid by adding art to guilt, obtain the affec- tion of a worthy man, and rise to a station where she is beheld with respect, and cheerfully received into all companies ? What then is the moral you would inculcate? Would you wish us to think, that a devia- It" 112 CHARLOTTE TE31PI.K. ■Ai^ tion from virtue, ii'covcred by art and hypocrisy, is not an object of detestation, but on the contrary, shall raise us to fame and lionor? 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 thin^. Remember the en- deavors 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 peni- tence 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 Ra Rue shall be detested and despised. For Char- lotte, the soul melts with sympathy; for La Rue, it feels nothing but horror and contempt. But per- haps your gay hearts would rather follow the fortu- nate Mrs. Crayton through the scenes of pleasure and dissipation, in which she was engaged, thaii listen to the complaints and miseries of Charlotte. I will for once oblige you: I will for once follow her 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 lie must know but little of the world who can won- der (however faulty such a woman's C9nduct) at her beinff followed bv the men. and her comnanv court- ^. -J , — — _ -. - -^ — ^ _ - — ed by the women: in short, Mrs. Crayton was the universal favorite; she set the fashions, she was CHARLOTTE T£Mri.K. 113 toasted by the gentlemen, and copied by tlie ladie« toL Crayton was a domestic man. Could he be happy with such a woman ? Impossible ! Remon strance was vain: he might as well have preached to the winds, as endeavor to persuade her from any action, however ridiculous, on which she had set her mmd. In short, after a little ineffectual struff- gle, he gave up the attempt, and left her to follow the bent of her own inclinations: what these were 1 think the reader must have seen enough of her character to form a just idea. Among thi number who paid their devotions at her shrine, she sinrfed out one, a young ensign, of mean birth, indifferent education, and weak intellects. How such a maii came mto the army, we can hardly account for, and how he afterwards rose to posts of honor, is likewise strange and Avonderful. But fortune is blind and so are those too frequently who have the power of dispensing her favors; else why do we see fools and knaves at the venr 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 tfierefore endeavor to deserve her Imiles, and- whether we succeed or not, we shall feel more in- nate satisfaction, than thousands of those who bask m the sunshine of her fa V. unworthily. But to i^^T,^''- ui^y^""'- This young man whom! shall d,stingmsh by the name of Cofydon, was the thS^ ^7°"*l °^. ^^' '^^^*- He escorted her to inHiS^^V '"'''^'^ ^'^ ^^' ^* e^e'y ball, and when alone who was permitted to cheer the gloomy soli- ' tilde to whzch she was obliged to confine* herself." e3 Ill CHARLOTTE TEMPLK. Did she never 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 pleasure of a gay, dissipated city. When she heard of his marriage, she smiling said, * so there's an end of Madam Charlotte's hope's: I wonder who will take her now, or what will become of the little affected prude?' But as you have led 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. >VE GO rORWARD AGAIN. The strength of Charlotte's constitution combat- ted against her disorder, and ?be began slowly to recover, though she still labored under a violent de- pression 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 apothe- cary and nurse, together with many other ynavoid- able expenses, had involved her in debt, from which she saw no method of extricating herself. As to the i'aint hope which she had entertained of hearing from and being relieved by her parents it now entirely torsook her; for it was above four months since her iytter was dispatched, and she had received no an- » \ "er. She therefore imagined that her conduct had CHAHLOTTE TEMPLE. 115 either entirely alienated their affections 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 pater fervency or with juster cause; yet she had too just a sense of the duties of the christian reli- gion, to attempt to put a period to her own existence • 1 have but to be patient a little longer,' she would ^IJ.Cu'' "'''*?^ fatigued and faintins^, will throw ot! this heavy load of mortality, and I shall be re- leased from all my sufferings. ' It was one cold stormy day in the latter end of December, as Charlotte sat by a handful of lire the low state of her finances not allowing her to replen- ish her stock of fuel, and prudence teaching her tu 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 begun this curi- ous hurangue. ' ' I'm come to see if as how you can pay your rent because as how we hear captain Montable is ffone' away, and It's fifty to one if he b'ant killed before he comes back again; and then Miss or Ma'am, or whatever you may be, as I was saying to my hus- b^nd, where are we to look for our money " This was a stroke altogether unexpected by Char- lotte; she never had bestowed a thought on the pay- ment of the rent of the house; she knew indeed that she owed a good deal, but this was never reckoned among the others; she was thunderstruck; she hard- ly knew what answer to make, yet it was absolute- ly necessary that she, nhnnU oo« ^^^^tu: „. .■ judging of the gentleness of every female disposition by her own, she thought the best way to intere.?t w llti CIIAKLOTTK TIOMPLE. tlie woman in her favor, would be to tell her can- didly 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 ac- quaintance, is to convince them you do not require it, for when once the petrifying aspect of distress and penury appear, whose quahties, like Medusa's head, can channje 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 tlic whole world before us appear a barren waste.— Pardon me ye dear spirits of benevolence, whoso ])enign smiles and cheerful giving hands have stu r - od sweet flowers on many a thorny path th.oL:,ii which my wayward fate forced me to pass; think not, that in condemning the unfeehng texture of the liuman heart, I forget the spring from whence flow all the coiuforts I enjoy: oh no! I look up to you as t(i the bright constellations, gathering new splen- dors from the surrounding darkness; but ah! while I adore the benignant rays that cheered and illumin- ed my heart, I mourn that their influence cannot extend to all the sons and daughters of affliction. * Indeed, Madam,* said poor Charlotte in a tremu- lous accent, 'I am at a loss what to do. Montra- ville placed me here, and promised to defray all mv oxpenses: but he ha^ forgotten his promise,"' he has forsaken me, and I have no friend who has cither CIIABLOTTE TEMPLK. 117 y9u power or will to relieve me. Let me hope as see my unhappy situation, your charity—' * Charity, 'cried the woman, impatiently inter- yupting her, * charity, indeed ! why, mistress, char- ity begms at home, and I have seven children at home, Hor^EST, lawful children ; and it is my duty to keep them ; and do you think I shall dye away my property to a nasty impudent hussey, to mamtam her and her bastard? as I was saying to my husband the other day, what will this world come to? honest women are nothing now-a-day«? while the harlotings are set up for fine ladies, -nd ook upon us no more, nor 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, why you must troop; and leave all your fine gimcracks and fal-de-ralls behind you. I don't ask for no more nor my right, and nobody shall dare for to go to hin- der me of it.' 6 " 'Oh heavens!' cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, « wh will become of me ?' ^ 'Come on ye I' returned the unfeeling wretch, why go to the barracks, and work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers' clothes, and cook their victuals, and not expect to live in idle- ness on honest people's means. Oh I wish I could see the day when all such cattle were obliged to ^vork hard and eat little; it's only what thev de- serve.* "^ ' Father of mercy!' cried Charlotte, < I acknowl- edge thy corrections lust: \mt i^re^r^Av^ mo r k^.c^>^^i» tnee, lor the portion of misery thou mayest please to lay upon m- » ' Well/ said the woman, ' I shall go and tell my I 118 CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 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, tho' I was sure you would lay m the street ' Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the an- guish of her heart was too great to permit her to ar- ticulate 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 thmk 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 in- clemency of the season. After many perplexing thoughts, she at last determined to set out for New- York, and enquire out Mrs. Cray ton, from whom she had no doubt but she should obtain immediate rehei, as soon as her distress was made known. She had no sooner formed this resolution, than she re- solved immediately to put it in execution. She theretore wrote the following little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thmking if she should have company with her. It would be better to send it in, than to request 10 see her. ^ TO MRS. CRAYTON. * Madam, " When we left our native land, that dear hap- wijiCii now contains all that is dear to the CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. lU) wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same- we both, pardon me madam, if I say, we both toci 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 unit- ed to a man of honor and humanity, united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, admired and surrounded by innumerable blessings, of which I am bereaved— enjoying those pleasures which have tied my bosom, never to return; alas! sorrow and deep regret have taken their place. Behold me. Madam, a poor forsaken wanderer, who has not where to lay her weary head, wherewith to supply the wants of nature, or to shield her from the in- clemency of the weather. To you I sue, tp you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to be received as an intimate or an equal; only for charity's sweet 5^ke receive me into your hospitable mansion, alot me the meanest apartment in it, and let me breathe out my soul in prayers for your happiness; I cannot, J *eel 1 cannot long bear up under the accumulated woes that pour in upon me; but oh! my dear Mad- am tor the love of heaven suffer me not to expire in the street ; and when I am at peace, as soon I snail be, extend your compassion to my helpless off. spring, should it please heaven that it should sur- . Vive 1(3 unhappy mother. A gleam of joy breaks in on my benighted soul, while I reflect that you can- not, will not, refuse your protection to the heart wJ" m. , , CHARLOTTE.^ wnen charlotte had fini«fiA/i th\o i/.ffr>^ i«*^ ^^ .-i. was m the afternoon, and though the snow began to lail very fast, she tied up a few necessaries whic!« *i 1 4i 120 CIlAnLOTTE TEMPLK i.i! I %£.S f she had prepared against her expected confinenienl ; and, terrified lest she should be again exposed to the insults of her barbarous lancMady, 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 trilling omission, wheth- er Charlotte did not possess any valuables 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 ev- ery tender attention which compassion and friend- ship could dictate; but let me entreat these wise, penetrating: gentlemen to reflect that when Char- lotte left Eiigland, 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, Montravilie's affec- tion soon began to decline, so that her whole ward- robe consisted only of necessaries; and as to the baubles, with which fond lovers often load their mis- tresses, 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 j'^our leave, I will proceed. The distance from the house which our suffering heroine occupied, to New- York, was not very great; yet the snow fell so fast, and the cold was so intense , that being unable from her situation to walk quick, she found herself almost sinking with cold and fa- tigue before she reached the town; her garments, CHARI-OTTK TEMri.K. 121 wliic U were merely suitable to the summer season, beino- an undress robe of plain white muslin, were Avetthrouo-h; and a thin black cloak and bonnet, very improper habiliments for such a climate, but poorly defended her from the cold, in this situa- tion she reached the city, and enquired of a foot soldier whom she met, the way to Col. Crayton s. « Ble^s you, my sweet lady,' said the soldier, witli a voice and look of compassion, ^ will show 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 Imd gone now, yet the old gentleman is very good.=* < Julia Fj:anklin,' said Charlotte,' is she not mar- ried to Montr aville?' r^ J I., ' 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 folks al- most worshipped hei.' . . *c ^ « Gracious heaven! cried Charlotte, is Montra- ville then unjust to none but me?' , , _, ^ , The soldier now showed her colonel Crayton s door, and with a beating heart she knocked for ad< mission. CHAPTER XXXI. SUBJECT CONTINUED. When the door was opened, Charlotte, in a jdice rendered scarcely articulate, through cold and the .L .-i.^*: ^ 1.,^^ minri Hfimaiided wnetner -f\Irs. Crayton was at home. The servant hesitated. 11 122 CHAKLOTTE TEMPLK * 4 i He knew that his lady was engaged at a game ot 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 counte- nance that rather interested him in her favor, 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 accept, 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; aa immediate answer is required.' Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carelessly over the contents. ' What stuff is this?' cried she, haughti- ly; 'have I not told you a thousand times that I would not be plagued with beggars, and petitions, one knows nothing abcrut? Go tell the woman I can't do any thing in it. I am 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 be- neath her hospitable roof to find shelter from the in- clemency of the season. 'Prithee, don't plague me man,' cried Mrs. Crayton, impatiently, as the servant advanced some- thing in behalf of the unhappy girl. — * I tell you I (ion't know her. ** nlAHLOTTE TEMPLE 123 ' 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 Tem- ple, 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 possi- ble. ' " Upon my honor, Miss," replied the unfeehng woman, with the utmost effrontery, '' this is a most unaccountable address: it is beyond my comprehen- sion. John," continued she, turning to the serv- ant, " the young woman is certainly out of her sen- ses: do pray tike her away, she terrifies me to death." '' Oh God I" cried Charlotte, claspmghev 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 have really forgotten me, oh for charity'* sweet sake, this night let me be sheltered from the winter's piercing cold." . The kneeling figure of Charlotte in her aflectmg situation would have moved the heart of a stoic to compassion: but Mrs. Cray ton 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 ot Montraville and Belcour mentioned. Mrs. Cray- ton could only say she was sorry for her imprudence, Imt could not think of having her own reputation endangered by encouraging a woman of that kind in V i---. 1 — :.i^_ ^u^ ^wl ner ovvii iiuubi^; uusiuus siic uiv* trouble and expense she might bring upon her bus- n !l 124 CllAUIiOTTi: TEMPX.!:. band 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 lifeless on the floor. *' Take her away," said Mrs. Cray ton, " 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 lie 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 sur- geon wss 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 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. (125 J CHAPTER XXXII. ECA80NS WHY AND WHEREFORE. The reader of sensibility may perhaps be aston- ished 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 accoun- ted for. She had ever been fully sensible of the su- periority of Charlotte's sense and virtue; she was conscious that she would never have swerved from rectitude, had it not been for her bad precept and worse example. These were things as yet un- known 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 considera- ble part of that power she once maintained over liim. She trembled while Charlotte was in the house, lest the colonel should return; she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested in her favor, while 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 colojiel the part she had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement; and she well knew the contrast between her own and Charlotte's con- duct would make the former appear in no very re- spectable liffht. Had she reflected oronerlv. she would have afforded the poor girl protection ; and by enjoining silence, ensured it by acts of repeated kindness; but vice in general blinds its votarie?. 126 ^ CHARLOTTE TEMPLt. ♦' y I h 'i and they discover their real characters to the worlds when they are most studious to preserre appear- ances. Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton. Her ser- vants made no scruple of mentioning the cruel con- duct of their lady to a poor distressed lunatic who claimed her protection: everyone joined in repro- bating her humanity; 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 were very inadequate; it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton to be very liberal in her bounty to the af- flicted supphant; yet vice had not so entirely soar- ed over his heart, but the sorrows of Charlotte could find a vulnerable part. Charlotte had now been three days with her hu- mane preservers, but she was totally insensible of everything. She raved incessantly for Montra- viHe and her father; she was not conscious of being- a mother, nor took the least notice of her child, ex- cept to ask whose it was, and why it was not c r- ried to its parents. " Oh," said she one day, starting up on hearing the infant cry, " why, why will you keep that child there? I am sure you would not, if you knew how hard it was for a mother to be parted from her in-^ fant: it is like tearing the cords of life asunder. Oh could you see the horrid sight which I now behold — mere — there stands my dear mother, her poor bosom bleeding at every vein, her gentle affection- ate heart torn in a thousand pieces, and all for the CHAKLOTTE TEMPLE. 127 ioss 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 ahili ties to save her; but he saw she was in want of many necessa-^ ries and comforts, which the poverty of her hospita- T)le host rendered him unable to provide; he there- fore determined to make her i>ituation known to some of the officers' ladies, and endeavor to make a collection for her relief. When he returned home, after making this reso- lution, he found a message from Mrs. Beauchaipp> who had just arrived from Rhode-Island, request!^ 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 endeavor to ' interest her in this poor girl's behalf : she wants the soothing balm of friendly consolation: we may per* haps save her; we will try at least." ** Where is she?" cried Mrs. Beauchamp, when he had prescribed something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, where is she? 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, tiiey sought the habitation that contained the dying Char- lotte. ii- (128) CK AFTER XXXIII. WHICH, PEOPLE VOID OP FEELING, NEEtr NOT READ. When Mrs. Beauchamp entered the apartment of the poor sufferer, she started brxk with horror. On a wretched bed without hangings, and but poorly supplied with covering, lay the emaciated figure of what still retained the semblance of a lovely woman, though sickness had so altered her features that Mrs' Beauchamp had not the least recollection of her person. In one corner of the roon stood a woman washing; and shivering over a small fire, two heal- thy but half naked children: the infant was asleep beside its mother, and on a chair by the bed-side, stood a porringer and wooden spoon, containing a little gruel, and a tea-cup with about two spoonfuls of wine in it. Mrs. Beauchamp had never before beheld such a scene of poverty; she shuddered in- voluntarily, and exclaiming — << heaven preserve us !" leaned on the back of a chair, ready to sink to the earth. The doctor repented having so precipi- ^tely brought her into this affecting scene; but there was no time for apology. Charlotte caught the sound of her voice, and starting almost out of hed, ey-laimed— " Angel of peace and mercy, art thou come to deliver me? Oh, I know you are, for whenever you were 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 counte- nance, and the softness of that voice, which has so often comfbrted tho wretched Charlotte.'' CHARLOTTE TEMPLK. 129 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 conceiv- ed the whole shocking affair. A faint sickness came over her. ** GraJous heaven," said she, '* is this possible?" and bursting into tears, she reclined ther burning head of Charlotte on her bosom, and fold- ing her arms about her, wept over her in silence. '* Oh," said Charlotte, ** you are very good to weep thus forme: it is a long time since I shed a tear for myself: my head and heart are both on fire: but those tears of yours seem to cool and refresh me. Oh now I remember you said you would send a let- ter to my poor father; do you think he ever receiv- ed it? or perhaps you have brought mean answer: why don't you speak, madam? Does he say I may ge home? Well, he is very good, I shall scon be ready." She then made an effort to get out of bed, but be- ing prevented, her phrenzy again returned, and she raved with the greatest wildness and incoherence. Mrs. Beauchamp, finding i^ was impossible for her to be removed, contented herself with ordering the apartment to be made more comfortable, and pro- curing a proper nurse for both mother and child; and having learnt the particulars of Charlotte's fruitless application to Mrs. Crayton from honest John> sho amply rewarded him for his benevolence, and re- turned home with a heart oppressed with many pain- ful sensations, but yet rendered easy by the reflec- tion thatshe had performed her duty, towards a dis- tressed fellow-creature. Early the next morning she again Ti?ited Chnr- it s^'-^^U-d. 130 CHARLOTTK TEMPLE. lotte, and found her tolerably composed; .y himself,^ he went out in search of Belcour, to en- quire whether she was ?iafe, and whether the child lived. He found him immersed in dissipation, and say. CJIARLOTTi: Ti:3iPLE. 133 could ^ain no other intelligence than that Charlotte had left him, and that he knew not what was he- come of her. <« I cannot helieve it possible/' said Montraville, *' that a mind once so pure as Char- lotte Temple's should so suddenly become the man- sion of vice. Beware, Belcour, continued he, ** be- ware if you have dared to behave either unjustly or dishonorably to that poor girl, your life shall pay the forfeit:— I will revenge her cause." He immedi- ately 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 learned the mis- ery Charlotte had endured from the coniplicated 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 fur- ther. Tortured almost to madness by this shocking ac- count, he returned to the city: but before he reach^ ed it, the evening was drawing to a close. — In en- tering the town, he was obliged to pass several lit- tle huts, the residence of poor women, who support- ed themselves by washing the clothes of the oilicers and soldiers. It was nearly dark: he heard, from a neighboring steeple, a solemn toll, that seemed to say, some poor mortal was going to their last man- sion. The j^ound struck on the heart of Montra- ville, 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 .s»«vc, iiv5 i^nuuiicti Kji ii ffUiuier wno siooa Dy, and had just wiped off a tear that did honfT to his heart. kU CHARLOTTE TKMPLE. who it was that was just buried. " An please your honor," said the man,* '' 'tis a' poor girl that was brought from her friends by a cruel man, who left Iier when she was big with child, and married anoth- er." Montraville stood motionless, and the man pro- ceeded — " I met her myself not a fortnight since, one night all wet and cold in the street; she went to mad- am Crayton's, but she would not take her in, and so the poor thing went raving mad. " Montravire could bearnomor'^: he struck his hands against his fore- head with violence; and exclaiming poor, murder- ed 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 Tem- ple 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 Mon- traville." Then falling on his knees, he continued, ** Here is my bosom. 1 bare it to receive that stroke 1 merit. Strike— strike now, and save me from the misery of reflection." "Alas!" said Mr. Temple, "if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own rellecticns 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. iJiJUiv ill itUlLLUi. aua lliiij viij 4iv,t»! ». vv,;-* t^-vx...^ -.^ sorrow us shall merit the mercy of heaven." He CHARLOTTE TEMPLE. 135 99 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 lightening to his lodgings. Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville impetuous: they fought, and the sword of the latter entered the heart of hi& adversary. He fell, and expired almost instantly. Montraville had received a slight wound; and over- come 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 dis- order. He recovered, but to the end of his life wasr 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. \ 1 CHAPTER XXXV. CONCLUSION. Shortly after the interment of his daughter, Mr- Temple, with his dear attle 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 sensi- first tumult of grief was subsided, Mrs. Temple gave lip the chief of her time to her grand-chiW^ and at it}G CriAULOTTi: TEMPLi:. I I slie grew up and improved, began to ahuost tancy she again possessed her Charlotte. It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and Mrs, Temple, having buried then- father, were obligfbd to come to London on particu- lar business, and brought the little Lucy with them. They had been w^alking one evening, when on their return they found a poor wretch sitting on the steps of the door. She attempted to rise as they ap- proached; but from extreme weakness, was unable, and ^fter several fruitless efforts fell back into a fit. Mr. Temple was not one of those men who stand to consider w^hethcr by assissting an object in distress they shall not inconvenience themselves, but insti- gated by the impulse of a noble, feeling heart, im- mediately ordered her to be carried into the house, and proper restoratives applied. She soon recover- ed; arid fixing her eyes on Mrs. Temple, cried— " You know riot, 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," con- tinued she, looking at Lucy;—" such was the fair bud of innocence, that my vile arts blasted ere it was 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 separ- fipven years, the chief of riot, dissipation and vice, and sickness, she had been till overtaken by poverty' CHARLOTTB TBMPLB* 13^ reduced to part with every valuable, and thought only of ending her life in a prison, when a benevo- lent friend paid her debts, and released her; but that her illness increasing, she had no possible means of supporting herself, and her friends were weary of relieving her. ' I have fasted (said she) two days, and last night laid my aching head on the cold pave- ment. Indeed it was but just that I should expe- rience those miseries myself^which I had unfeeling- ly 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 shel- ter 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. THE END. \ .t;ji