“I cannot go,” said she: “cease, dear Montraville, to persuade. I must not: religion, duty, forbid.”
“Cruel Charlotte,” said he, “if you disappoint my ardent hopes, by all that is sacred, this hand shall put a period to my existence. I cannot—will not live without you.”
“Alas! my torn heart!” said Charlotte, “how shall I act?”
“Let me direct you,” said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise.
“Oh! my dear forsaken parents!” cried Charlotte.
The chaise drove off. She shrieked, and fainted into the arms of her betrayer.
CHAPTER XIII.
CRUEL DISAPPOINTMENT.
“WHAT pleasure,” cried Mr. Eldridge, as he stepped into the chaise to go for his grand-daughter, “what pleasure expands the heart of an old man when he beholds the progeny of a beloved child growing up in every virtue that adorned the minds of her parents. I foolishly thought, some few years since, that every sense of joy was buried in the graves of my dear partner and my son; but my Lucy, by her filial affection, soothed my soul to peace, and this dear Charlotte has twined herself round my heart, and opened such new scenes of delight to my view, that I almost forget I have ever been unhappy.”