“I do not intend to go again,” said Charlotte, gravely taking off her bonnet, and beginning to prepare for bed: “I am sure, if Madame Du Pont knew we had been out to-night, she would be very angry; and it is ten to one but she hears of it by some means or other.”
“Nay, Miss,” said La Rue, “perhaps your mighty sense of propriety may lead you to tell her yourself: and in order to avoid the censure you would incur, should she hear of it by accident, throw the blame on me: but I confess I deserve it: it will be a very kind return for that partiality which led me to prefer you before any of the rest of the ladies; but perhaps it will give you pleasure,” continued she, letting fall some hypocritical tears, “to see me deprived of bread, and for an action which by the most rigid could only be esteemed an inadvertency, lose my place and character, and be driven again into the world, where I have already suffered all the evils attendant on poverty.”
This was touching Charlotte in the most vulnerable part: she rose from her seat, and taking Mademoiselle's hand—“You know, my dear La Rue,” said she, “I love you too well, to do anything that would injure you in my governess's opinion: I am only sorry we went out this evening.”
“I don't believe it, Charlotte,” said she, assuming a little vivacity; “for if you had not gone out, you would not have seen the gentleman who met us crossing the field; and I rather think you were pleased with his conversation.”
“I had seen him once before,” replied Charlotte, “and thought him an agreeable man; and you know one is always pleased to see a person with whom one has passed several cheerful hours. But,” said she pausing, and drawing the letter from her pocket, while a gentle suffusion of vermillion tinged her neck and face, “he gave me this letter; what shall I do with it?”
“Read it, to be sure,” returned Mademoiselle.
“I 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.