12. CHAPTER XII
Nature's last, best gift:
Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could
To sight or thought be nam'd!
Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet!
How thou art fall'n!—
When Charlotte left her restless bed, her languid eye and
pale cheek discovered to Madame Du Pont the little repose she had tasted.
"My dear child," said the affectionate governess, "what is the
cause of the languor so apparent in your frame? Are you not
well?"
"Yes, my dear Madam, very well," replied Charlotte,
attempting to smile, "but I know not how it was; I could not sleep last
night, and my spirits are depressed this morning."
"Come chear up, my love," said the governess; "I believe I
have brought a
cordial to revive them. I have just received a letter
from your good mama, and here is one for yourself."
Charlotte hastily took the letter: it contained these words—
"As to-morrow is the anniversary of the happy day that gave
my beloved girl to the anxious wishes of a maternal heart, I have
requested your governess to let you come home and spend it
with us; and as I know you to be a good affectionate child, and
make it your study to improve in those branches of education
which you know will give most pleasure to your delighted parents,
as a reward for your diligence and attention I have prepared
an agreeable surprise for your reception. Your grand-father,
eager to embrace the darling of his aged heart, will come in
the chaise for you; so hold yourself in readiness to attend him by
nine o'clock. Your dear father joins in every tender wish for your
health and future felicity, which warms the heart of my dear
Charlotte's affectionate mother.
"L. TEMPLE."
"Gracious heaven!" cried Charlotte,
forgetting where she was,
and raising her streaming eyes as in earnest supplication.
Madame Du Pont was surprised. "Why these tears, my love?"
said she. "Why this seeming agitation? I thought the letter
would have rejoiced, instead of distressing you."
"It does rejoice me," replied Charlotte, endeavouring at
composure, "but I was praying for merit to deserve the unremitted
attentions of the best of parents."
"You do right," said Madame Du Pont, "to ask the assistance
of heaven that you may continue to deserve their love. Continue,
my dear Charlotte, in the course you have ever pursued,
and you will insure at once their happiness and your
own. "
"Oh!" cried Charlotte, as her governess left her, "I have forfeited
both for ever! Yet let me reflect:—the irrevocable step is
not yet taken: it is not
too late to recede from the brink of a precipice,
from which I can only behold the dark abyss of ruin,
shame, and remorse!"
She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La Rue.
"Oh Mademoiselle!" said she, "I am snatched by a miracle from
destruction! This letter has saved me: it has opened my eyes to
the folly I was so near committing. I will not go, Mademoiselle; I
will not wound the hearts of those dear parents who make my
happiness the whole study of their lives."
"Well," said Mademoiselle, "do as you please, Miss; but pray
understand that my resolution is taken, and it is not in your
power to alter it. I shall meet the gentlemen at the appointed
hour, and shall not be surprized at any outrage which
Montraville may commit, when he finds himself disappointed.
Indeed I should not be astonished, was he to come immediately
here and reproach
you for your instability in the hearing of the
whole school: and what will be the consequence? you will bear
the odium of having formed the resolution of eloping, and every
girl of spirit will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in execution,
while prudes and fools will load you with reproach and contempt.
You will have lost the confidence of your parents, incurred
their anger, and the scoffs of the world; and what fruit do
you expect to reap from this piece of heroism, (for such no doubt
you think it is?) you will have the pleasure to reflect, that you
have deceived the man who adores you, and whom in your
heart you prefer to all other men, and that you are separated
from him forever."
This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that
Charlotte could not find an opportunity to interrupt her, or to offer
a single word till the whole was finished, and then found her
ideas
so confused, that she knew not what to say.
At length she determined that she would go with Mademoiselle
to the place of assignation, convince Montraville of the necessity
of adhering to the resolution of remaining behind; assure
him of her affection, and bid him adieu.
Charlotte formed this plan in her mind, and exulted in the certainty
of its success. "How shall I rejoice," said she, "in this triumph
of reason over inclination, and, when in the arms of my affectionate
parents, lift up my soul in gratitude to heaven as I
look back on the dangers I have escaped!"
The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what
money and valuables she possessed in her pocket, and advised
Charlotte to do the same; but she refused; "my resolution is
fixed " said she; "I will sacrifice love to duty."
Mademoiselle smiled internally; and they proceeded softly
down the back
stairs and out of the garden gate. Montraville and
Belcour were ready to receive them.
"Now," said Montraville, taking Charlotte in his arms, "you
are mine for ever."
"No," said she, withdrawing from his embrace, "I am come to
take an everlasting farewel. "
It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here ensued,
suffice it to say, that Montraville used every argument that
had formerly been successful, Charlotte's resolution began to waver,
and he drew her almost imperceptibly towards the chaise.
"I cannot go," said she: "cease, dear Montraville, to persuade.
I must not: religion, duty, forbid."
"Cruel Charlotte," said he, "if you disappoint my ardent
hopes, by all that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence.
I cannot—will not—live without you."
"Alas! my torn heart!" said Charlotte, "how shall I act?"
"Let me direct you," said Montraville, lifting her into the
chaise.
"Oh! my dear forsaken parents!" cried Charlotte.
The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms
of her betrayer.
