e
grief of an afflicted father."

"If thou art the father of Charlotte Temple," said he, gazing at
him with mingled horror and amazement--"if thou art her father--I am
Montraville." Then falling on his knees, he continued--"Here is my
bosom. I bare it to receive the stroke I merit. Strike--strike now, and
save me from the misery of reflexion."

"Alas!" said Mr. Temple, "if thou wert the seducer of my child, thy own
reflexions be thy punishment. I wrest not the power from the hand of
omnipotence. Look on that little heap of earth, there hast thou buried
the only joy of a fond father. Look at it often; and may thy heart feel
such true sorrow as shall merit the mercy of heaven." He turned from
him; and Montraville starting up from the ground, where he had thrown
himself, and at that instant remembering the perfidy of Belcour, flew
like lightning to his lodgings. Belcour was intoxicated; Montraville
impetuous: they fought, and the sword of the latter entered the heart
of his adversary. He fell, and expired almost instantly. Montraville had
received a slight wound; and overcome with the agitation of his mind and
loss of blood, was carried in a state of insensibility to his distracted
wife. A dangerous illness and obstinate delirium ensued, during which
he raved incessantly for Charlotte: but a strong constitution, and
the tender assiduities of Julia, in time overcame the disorder. He
recovered; but to the end of his life was subject to severe fits of
melancholy, and while he remained at New-York frequently retired to the
church-yard, where he would weep over the grave, and regret the untimely
fate of the lovely Charlotte Temple.

CHAPTER XXXV.

CONCLUSION.

SHORTLY after the interment of his daughter, Mr. Temple, with his
dear little charge and her nurse, set forward for England. It would be
impossible to do justice to the meeting scene between him, his Lucy, and
her aged father. Every heart of sensibility can easily conceive their
feelings. After the first tumult of grief was subsided, Mrs. Temple
gave up the chief of her time to her grand-child, and as she grew up and
improved, began to almost fancy she again possessed her Charlotte.

It was about ten years after these painful events, that Mr. and Mrs.
Temple, having buried their father, were obliged to come to London on
particular business, and brought the little Lucy with them. They had
been walking one evening, when on their return they found a poor
wretch