mother's injuries, he should wound the peace of
his father.

"And now, dear friends of my soul, kind guardians of my infancy,
farewell. I feel I never more must hope to see you; the anguish of my
heart strikes at the strings of life, and in a short time I shall be
at rest. Oh could I but receive your blessing and forgiveness before I
died, it would smooth my passage to the peaceful grave, and be a blessed
foretaste of a happy eternity. I beseech you, curse me not, my adored
parents, but let a tear of pity and pardon fall to the memory of your
lost

"CHARLOTTE."

CHAPTER XXIII.

A MAN MAY SMILE, AND SMILE, AND BE A VILLAIN.

WHILE Charlotte was enjoying some small degree of comfort in the
consoling friendship of Mrs. Beauchamp, Montraville was advancing
rapidly in his affection towards Miss Franklin. Julia was an amiable
girl; she saw only the fair side of his character; she possessed an
independent fortune, and resolved to be happy with the man of her heart,
though his rank and fortune were by no means so exalted as she had a
right to expect; she saw the passion which Montraville struggled to
conceal; she wondered at his timidity, but imagined the distance fortune
had placed between them occasioned his backwardness, and made every
advance which strict prudence and a becoming modesty would permit.
Montraville saw with pleasure he was not indifferent to her, but a
spark of honour which animated his bosom would not suffer him to take
advantage of her partiality. He was well acquainted with Charlotte's
situation, and he thought there would be a double cruelty in forsaking
her at such a time; and to marry Miss Franklin, while honour, humanity,
every sacred law, obliged him still to protect and support Charlotte,
was a baseness which his soul shuddered at.

He communicated his uneasiness to Belcour: it was the very thing this
pretended friend had wished. "And do you really," said he, laughing,
"hesitate at marrying the lovely Julia, and becoming master of her
fortune, because a little foolish, fond girl chose to leave her friends,
and run away with you to America. Dear Montraville, act more like a
man of sense; this whining, pining Charlotte, who occasions you so much
uneasiness, would have eloped with somebody else if she had not with
you."

"Would to heaven," said Montraville, "I had never seen her; my regard
for her was but the momentary passion of desire, but I feel I shall love
and revere Julia Franklin a