anly of yourself, Miss Temple: there is no one who
would dare to treat you with contempt: all who have the pleasure of
knowing you must admire and esteem. You are lonely here, my dear girl;
give me leave to conduct you to New-York, where the agreeable society
of some ladies, to whom I will introduce you, will dispel these sad
thoughts, and I shall again see returning cheerfulness animate those
lovely features."

"Oh never! never!" cried Charlotte, emphatically: "the virtuous part
of my sex will scorn me, and I will never associate with infamy. No,
Belcour, here let me hide my shame and sorrow, here let me spend my
few remaining days in obscurity, unknown and unpitied, here let me die
unlamented, and my name sink to oblivion." Here her tears stopped her
utterance. Belcour was awed to silence: he dared not interrupt her; and
after a moment's pause she proceeded--"I once had conceived the
thought of going to New-York to seek out the still dear, though cruel,
ungenerous Montraville, to throw myself at his feet, and entreat his
compassion; heaven knows, not for myself; if I am no longer beloved,
I will not be indebted to his pity to redress my injuries, but I would
have knelt and entreated him not to forsake my poor unborn--" She could
say no more; a crimson glow rushed over her cheeks, and covering her
face with her hands, she sobbed aloud.

Something like humanity was awakened in Belcour's breast by this
pathetic speech: he arose and walked towards the window; but the selfish
passion which had taken possession of his heart, soon stifled these
finer emotions; and he thought if Charlotte was once convinced she had
no longer any dependance on Montraville, she would more readily throw
herself on his protection. Determined, therefore, to inform her of all
that had happened, he again resumed his seat; and finding she began to
be more composed, enquired if she had ever heard from Montraville since
the unfortunate recontre in her bed chamber.

"Ah no," said she. "I fear I shall never hear from him again."

"I am greatly of your opinion," said Belcour, "for he has been for some
time past greatly attached--"

At the word "attached" a death-like paleness overspread the countenance
of Charlotte, but she applied to some hartshorn which stood beside her,
and Belcour proceeded.

"He has been for some time past greatly attached to one Miss Franklin, a
pleasing lively girl, with a large fortune."

"She may be richer, may be handsom