ith the value of virtue, how could you,
when loving as I thought you loved me, yield to the solicitations of
Belcour?

"Oh Charlotte, conscience tells me it was I, villain that I am, who
first taught you the allurements of guilty pleasure; it was I who
dragged you from the calm repose which innocence and virtue ever enjoy;
and can I, dare I tell you, it was not love prompted to the horrid deed?
No, thou dear, fallen angel, believe your repentant Montraville, when
he tells you the man who truly loves will never betray the object of his
affection. Adieu, Charlotte: could you still find charms in a life of
unoffend-ing innocence, return to your parents; you shall never want the
means of support both for yourself and child. Oh! gracious heaven!
may that child be entirely free from the vices of its father and the
weakness of its mother.

"To-morrow--but no, I cannot tell you what to-morrow will produce;
Belcour will inform you: he also has cash for you, which I beg you will
ask for whenever you may want it. Once more adieu: believe me could I
hear you was returned to your friends, and enjoying that tranquillity of
which I have robbed you, I should be as completely happy as even you,
in your fondest hours, could wish me, but till then a gloom will obscure
the brightest prospects of MONTRAVILLE."

After he had sealed this letter he threw himself on the bed, and enjoyed
a few hours repose. Early in the morning Belcour tapped at his door: he
arose hastily, and prepared to meet his Julia at the altar.

"This is the letter to Charlotte," said he, giving it to Belcour: "take
it to her when we are gone to Eustatia; and I conjure you, my dear
friend, not to use any sophistical arguments to prevent her return to
virtue; but should she incline that way, encourage her in the thought,
and assist her to put her design in execution."

CHAPTER XXVII.

Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head,
Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew.

CHARLOTTE had now been left almost three months a prey to her own
melancholy reflexions--sad companions indeed; nor did any one break in
upon her solitude but Belcour, who once or twice called to enquire after
her health, and tell her he had in vain endeavoured to bring Montraville
to hear reason; and once, but only once, was her mind cheered by the
receipt of an affectionate letter from Mrs. Beauchamp. Often had she
wrote to her perfidious seducer, and with the most persuasive eloqu