“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 surprised at any outrage which Montraville may commit when he finds himself disappointed. Indeed, I should not be astonished were 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 forever.”
“No,” said she, withdrawing from his embrace; “I 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 every argument that had formerly been successful, Charlotte’s resolution began to waver, and he drew her almost imperceptibly toward the chaise.
“I can not 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 can not—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.
XIII
Cruel Disappointment
“What pleasure!” cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise to go for his granddaughter, “what pleasure expands the heart of an old man when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child growing up in every virtue that adorned the minds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some few years since, that every sense of joy was buried in the graves of my dear partner and my son; but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed my soul to peace, and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my heart, and opened such new scenes of delight to my view that I almost forget I have ever been unhappy.”
When the chaise stopped he alighted with the alacrity of youth; so much do the emotions of the soul influence the body.
It was half-past eight o’clock: the ladies were assembled in the schoolroom, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer the morning sacrifice of prayer and praise, when it was discovered that mademoiselle and Charlotte were missing.
“She is busy, no doubt,” said the governess, “in preparing Charlotte for her little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget our duty to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers.”
The lady who went to summon them soon returned, and informed the governess that the room was locked, and that she had knocked repeatedly, but obtained no answer.
“Good Heaven!” cried Madame Du Pont, “this is very strange:” and turning pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, and ordered it to be forced open. The apartment instantly discovered the fact that no person had been in it the preceding night, the beds appearing as though just made. The house was instantly a scene of confusion: the garden, the pleasure grounds, were searched to no purpose; every apartment rang with the names of Miss Temple and mademoiselle; but they were too distant to hear; and every face wore the marks of disappointment.
Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlor, eagerly expecting his granddaughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: he heard the confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name of Charlotte frequently repeated.
“What can be the matter?” said he, rising, and opening the door: “I fear some accident has befallen my dear girl.”
The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance discovered that something extraordinary had happened.
“Where is Charlotte?” said he. “Why does not my child come to welcome her doting parent?”
“Be composed, my dear sir,” said Madame Du Pont; “do not frighten yourself unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; but as mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily
