“Indeed, madam,” said poor Charlotte, in a tremulous accent, “I am at a loss what to do. Montraville placed me here and promised to defray all my expenses: but he has forgot his promise, he has forsaken me, and I have no friend who has either power or will to relieve me. Let me hope, as you see my unhappy situation, your charity—”
“Charity!” cried the woman, impatiently interrupting her, “charity, indeed: why, mistress, charity begins at home, and I have seven children at home, honest, lawful children, and it is my duty to keep them; and do you think I will give away my property to a nasty, impudent hussy, to maintain her and her bastard; an I was saying to my husband the other day, what will this world come to; honest women are nothing nowadays, while the harlotings are set up for fine ladies, and look upon us no more nor the dirt they walk upon: but let me tell you, my fine spoken ma’am, I must have my money: so seeing as how you can’t pay it, why, you must troop, and leave all your fine gimcracks and fal-der-ralls behind you. I don’t ask for no more than my right, and nobody shall dare for to go for to hinder me of it.”
“Oh, heavens!” cried Charlotte, clasping her hands, “what will become of me?”
“Come on ye!” retorted the unfeeling wretch: “why, go to the barracks and work for a morsel of bread; wash and mend the soldiers’ clothes, an cook their victuals, and not expect to live in idleness on honest peoples’ means. Oh, I wish I could see the day when all such cattle were obliged to work hard and eat little; it’s only what they deserve.”
“Father of mercy,” cried Charlotte, “I acknowledge Thy correction just; but prepare me, I beseech Thee, for the portion of misery Thou may’st please to lay upon me.”
“Well,” said the woman, “I shall go an tell my husband as how you can’t pay; and so, d’ye see, ma’am, get ready to be packing away this very night, for you should not stay another night in this house, though I were sure you would lay in the street.”
Charlotte bowed her head in silence; but the anguish of her heart was too great to permit her to articulate a single word.
XXX
“Friendship a Name”
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.15
When Charlotte was left to herself, she began to think what course she must take, or to whom she should apply, to prevent her perishing for want, or perhaps that very night falling a victim to the inclemency of the season. After many perplexed thoughts she at last determined to set out for New York and inquire out Mrs. Crayton, from whom she had no doubt but she should obtain immediate relief as soon as her distress was made known; she had no sooner formed this resolution than she resolved immediately to put it in execution: she therefore wrote the following little billet to Mrs. Crayton, thinking if she should have company with her, it would be better to send it in than to request to see her.
“To Mrs. Crayton:
“Madam, When we left our native land, that dear happy land which now contains all that is dear to the wretched Charlotte, our prospects were the same; we both, pardon me, madam, if I say, we both too easily followed the impulse of our treacherous hearts, and trusted our happiness on a tempestuous ocean, where mine has been wrecked and lost forever; you have been more fortunate—you are united to a man of honor and humanity, united by the most sacred ties, respected, esteemed, and admired, and surrounded by innumerable blessings of which I am bereaved, enjoying those pleasures which have fled my bosom, never to return; alas! sorrow and deep regret have taken their place. Behold me, madam, a poor, forsaken wanderer, who has not where to lay her weary head, wherewith to supply the wants of nature, or to shield her from the inclemency of the weather. To you I sue, to you I look for pity and relief. I ask not to be received as an intimate or an equal; only for charity’s sweet sake, receive me into your hospitable mansion, allot me the meanest apartment in it, and let me breathe out my soul in prayers for your happiness; I can not, I feel I can not long bear up under the accumulated woes that pour in upon me; but oh! my dear madam, for the love of Heaven, suffer me not to expire in the street; and when I am at peace, as soon I shall be, extend your compassion to my helpless offspring, should it please Heaven that it should survive its unhappy mother. A gleam of joy breaks in on my benighted soul, while I reflect that you can not, will not, refuse your protection to the heartbroken
When Charlotte had finished this letter, late as it was in the afternoon, and though the snow began to fall very fast, she tied up a few necessaries, which she had prepared against her expected confinement, and terrified lest she should be again exposed to the insults of her barbarous landlady, more dreadful to her wounded spirit than either storm or darkness, she set forward for New York.16
It may be asked by those who, in a work of this kind, love to cavil at every trifling omission, whether Charlotte did not possess any valuable of which she could have disposed, and by that means have supported herself till Mrs. Beauchamp’s return, when she would have been certain of receiving every tender attention which compassion and friendship could dictate:
