am afraid I ought not," said Charlotte: "my mother has often told
me, I should never read a letter given me by a young man, without first
giving it to her."

"Lord bless you, my dear girl," cried the teacher smiling, "have you
a mind to be in leading strings all your life time. Prithee open the
letter, read it, and judge for yourself; if you show it your mother, the
consequence will be, you will be taken from school, and a strict guard
kept over you; so you will stand no chance of ever seeing the smart
young officer again."

"I should not like to leave school yet," replied Charlotte, "till I have
attained a greater proficiency in my Italian and music. But you can, if
you please, Mademoiselle, take the letter back to Montraville, and
tell him I wish him well, but cannot, with any propriety, enter into a
clandestine correspondence with him." She laid the letter on the table,
and began to undress herself.

"Well," said La Rue, "I vow you are an unaccountable girl: have you
no curiosity to see the inside now? for my part I could no more let a
letter addressed to me lie unopened so long, than I could work miracles:
he writes a good hand," continued she, turning the letter, to look at
the superscription.

"'Tis well enough," said Charlotte, drawing it towards her.

"He is a genteel young fellow," said La Rue carelessly, folding up her
apron at the same time; "but I think he is marked with the small pox."

"Oh you are greatly mistaken," said Charlotte eagerly; "he has a
remarkable clear skin and fine complexion."

"His eyes, if I could judge by what I saw," said La Rue, "are grey and
want expression."

"By no means," replied Charlotte; "they are the most expressive eyes
I ever saw." "Well, child, whether they are grey or black is of no
consequence: you have determined not to read his letter; so it is likely
you will never either see or hear from him again."

Charlotte took up the letter, and Mademoiselle continued--

"He is most probably going to America; and if ever you should hear any
account of him, it may possibly be that he is killed; and though he
loved you ever so fervently, though his last breath should be spent in
a prayer for your happiness, it can be nothing to you: you can feel
nothing for the fate of the man, whose letters you will not open, and
whose sufferings you will not alleviate, by permitting him to think you
would remember him when absent, and pray for his safety."

Charlotte still held the le