stopped, he alighted with the alacrity of youth; so much
do the emotions of the soul influence the body.

It was half past eight o'clock; the ladies were assembled in the school
room, and Madame Du Pont was preparing to offer the morning sacrifice
of prayer and praise, when it was discovered, that Mademoiselle and
Charlotte were missing.

"She is busy, no doubt," said the governess, "in preparing Charlotte for
her little excursion; but pleasure should never make us forget our duty
to our Creator. Go, one of you, and bid them both attend prayers."

The lady who went to summon them, soon returned, and informed
the governess, that the room was locked, and that she had knocked
repeatedly, but obtained no answer.

"Good heaven!" cried Madame Du Pont, "this is very strange:" and turning
pale with terror, she went hastily to the door, and ordered it to be
forced open. The apartment instantly discovered, that no person had been
in it the preceding night, the beds appearing as though just made.
The house was instantly a scene of confusion: the garden, the pleasure
grounds were searched to no purpose, every apartment rang with the names
of Miss Temple and Mademoiselle; but they were too distant to hear; and
every face wore the marks of disappointment.

Mr. Eldridge was sitting in the parlour, eagerly expecting his
grand-daughter to descend, ready equipped for her journey: he heard
the confusion that reigned in the house; he heard the name of Charlotte
frequently repeated. "What can be the matter?" said he, rising and
opening the door: "I fear some accident has befallen my dear girl."

The governess entered. The visible agitation of her countenance
discovered that something extraordinary had happened.

"Where is Charlotte?" said he, "Why does not my child come to welcome
her doating parent?"

"Be composed, my dear Sir," said Madame Du Pont, "do not frighten
yourself unnecessarily. She is not in the house at present; but as
Mademoiselle is undoubtedly with her, she will speedily return
in safety; and I hope they will both be able to account for this
unseasonable absence in such a manner as shall remove our present
uneasiness."

"Madam," cried the old man, with an angry look, "has my child been
accustomed to go out without leave, with no other company or protector
than that French woman. Pardon me, Madam, I mean no reflections on your
country, but I never did like Mademoiselle La Rue; I think she was a
very improper pers