in some measure be accounted for. She had
ever been fully sensible of the superiority of Charlotte's sense and
virtue; she was conscious that she had never swerved from rectitude, had
it not been for her bad precepts and worse example. These were things as
yet unknown to her husband, and she wished not to have that part of her
conduct exposed to him, as she had great reason to fear she had already
lost considerable part of that power she once maintained over him. She
trembled whilst Charlotte was in the house, lest the Colonel should
return; she perfectly well remembered how much he seemed interested in
her favour whilst on their passage from England, and made no doubt, but,
should he see her in her present distress, he would offer her an asylum,
and protect her to the utmost of his power. In that case she feared the
unguarded nature of Charlotte might discover to the Colonel the part
she had taken in the unhappy girl's elopement, and she well knew the
contrast between her own and Charlotte's conduct would make the former
appear in no very respectable light. Had she reflected properly, she
would have afforded the poor girl protection; and by enjoining her
silence, ensured it by acts of repeated kindness; but vice in general
blinds its votaries, and they discover their real characters to the
world when they are most studious to preserve appearances.

Just so it happened with Mrs. Crayton: her servants made no scruple of
mentioning the cruel conduct of their lady to a poor distressed
lunatic who claimed her protection; every one joined in reprobating her
inhumanity; nay even Corydon thought she might at least have ordered her
to be taken care of, but he dare not even hint it to her, for he lived
but in her smiles, and drew from her lavish fondness large sums to
support an extravagance to which the state of his own finances was very
inadequate; it cannot therefore be supposed that he wished Mrs. Crayton
to be very liberal in her bounty to the afflicted suppliant; yet vice
had not so entirely seared over his heart, but the sorrows of Charlotte
could find a vulnerable part.

Charlotte had now been three days with her humane preservers, but
she was totally insensible of every thing: she raved incessantly for
Montraville and her father: she was not conscious of being a mother, nor
took the least notice of her child except to ask whose it was, and why
it was not carried to its parents.

"Oh," said she one day, starting up on