aturally polite and well-bred, was so confused she
could hardly speak. Her kind visitor endeavoured to relieve her by
not noticing her embarrassment. "I am come, Madam," continued she, "to
request you will spend the day with me. I shall be alone; and, as we are
both strangers in this country, we may hereafter be extremely happy in
each other's friendship."

"Your friendship, Madam," said Charlotte blushing, "is an honour to
all who are favoured with it. Little as I have seen of this part of the
world, I am no stranger to Mrs. Beauchamp's goodness of heart and known
humanity: but my friendship--" She paused, glanced her eye upon her own
visible situation, and, spite of her endeavours to suppress them, burst
into tears.

Mrs. Beauchamp guessed the source from whence those tears flowed.
"You seem unhappy, Madam," said she: "shall I be thought worthy your
confidence? will you entrust me with the cause of your sorrow, and
rest on my assurances to exert my utmost power to serve you." Charlotte
returned a look of gratitude, but could not speak, and Mrs. Beauchamp
continued--"My heart was interested in your behalf the first moment I
saw you, and I only lament I had not made earlier overtures towards an
acquaintance; but I flatter myself you will henceforth consider me as
your friend."

"Oh Madam!" cried Charlotte, "I have forfeited the good opinion of all
my friends; I have forsaken them, and undone myself."

"Come, come, my dear," said Mrs. Beauchamp, "you must not indulge
these gloomy thoughts: you are not I hope so miserable as you imagine
yourself: endeavour to be composed, and let me be favoured with your
company at dinner, when, if you can bring yourself to think me your
friend, and repose a confidence in me, I am ready to convince you it
shall not be abused." She then arose, and bade her good morning.

At the dining hour Charlotte repaired to Mrs. Beauchamp's, and during
dinner assumed as composed an aspect as possible; but when the cloth
was removed, she summoned all her resolution and determined to make Mrs.
Beauchamp acquainted with every circumstance preceding her unfortunate
elopement, and the earnest desire she had to quit a way of life so
repugnant to her feelings.

With the benignant aspect of an angel of mercy did Mrs. Beauchamp listen
to the artless tale: she was shocked to the soul to find how large a
share La Rue had in the seduction of this amiable girl, and a tear fell,
when she reflected so vile a w