When the door was opened, Charlotte, in a
voice rendered &longs;carcely articulate, through
cold and the extreme agitation of her mind, demanded
whether Mrs. Crayton was at home. The
&longs;ervant he&longs;itated: he knew that his lady was engaged
at a game of picquet with her dear Corydon,
nor could he think &longs;he would like to be di&longs;turbed
by a per&longs;on who&longs;e appearance &longs;poke her of &longs;o little
con&longs;equence as Charlotte; yet there was &longs;omething
in her countenance that rather intere&longs;ted him in her
favour, and he &longs;aid his lady was engaged, but if &longs;he
had any particular me&longs;&longs;age he would deliver it.

“Take up this letter,” &longs;aid Charlotte: “tell
her the unhappy writer of it waits in her hall for an
an&longs;wer.”

The tremulous accent, the tearful eye, mu&longs;t have
moved any heart not compo&longs;ed of adamant. The man
took the letter from the poor &longs;uppliant, and ha&longs;tily
a&longs;cended the &longs;tair ca&longs;e.

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“A letter, Madam,” &longs;aid he, pre&longs;enting it to his
lady: “an immediate an&longs;wer is required.”

Mrs. Crayton glanced her eye carele&longs;sly over the
contents. “What &longs;tuff is this;” cried &longs;he haughtily;
“have not I told you a thou&longs;and times that I
will not be plagued with beggars, and petitions
from people one knows nothing about? Go tell the
woman I can't do any thing in it. I'm &longs;orry, but
one can't relieve every body.”

The &longs;ervant bowed, and heavily returned with
this chilling me&longs;&longs;age to Charlotte.

“Surely,” &longs;aid &longs;he, “Mrs. Crayton has not
read my letter. Go, my good friend, pray go back
to her; tell her it is Charlotte Temple who reque&longs;t
beneath her ho&longs;pitable roof to find &longs;helter from the
inclemency of the &longs;ea&longs;on.”

“Prithee, don't plague me, man,” cried Mrs.
Crayton impatiently, as the &longs;ervant advanced something
in behalf of the unhappy girl. I tell you I
don't know her.”

“Not know me,” cried Charlotte, ru&longs;hing into
the room, (for &longs;he had followed the man up &longs;tairs)
“not know me, not remember the ruined Charlotte
Temple, who, but for you, perhaps might &longs;till
have been innocent, &longs;till have been happy. Oh! La
Rue, this is beyond every thing I could have believed
po&longs;&longs;ible.”

“Upon my honour, Mi&longs;s,” replied the unfeeling
woman with the utmo&longs;t effrontery, “this is a

[figure description] Page 153.[end figure description]

mo&longs;t unaccountable addre&longs;s: it is beyond my comprehension.
John,” continued &longs;he, turning to the
&longs;ervant, “the young woman is certainly out of her
&longs;en&longs;es: do pray take her away, &longs;he terrifies me to
death.”

“Oh God,” cried Charlotte, cla&longs;ping her
hands in an agony, “this is too much; what
will become of me? but I will not leave you; they
&longs;hall not tear me from you; here on my knees I
conjure you to &longs;ave me from peri&longs;hing in the &longs;treets:
if you really have forgot me, oh for charity's &longs;weet
&longs;ake this night let me be &longs;heltered from the winter's
piercing cold.”

The kneeling figure of Charlotte in her affecting
&longs;ituation might have moved the heart of a &longs;toic
to compa&longs;&longs;ion: but Mrs, Crayton remained inflexible.
In vain did Charlotte recount the time
they had known each other at Chiche&longs;ter, in vain
mention their being in the &longs;ame &longs;hip, in vain were
the names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned.
Mrs. Crayton could only &longs;ay &longs;he was &longs;orry for her
imprudence, but could not think of having her
own reputation endangered by encouraging a woman
of that kind in her own hou&longs;e, be&longs;ides &longs;he did
not know what trouble and expen&longs;e &longs;he might bring
upon her hu&longs;band by giving &longs;helter to a woman in
her &longs;ituation.

“I can at lea&longs;t die here,” &longs;aid Charlotte, “I
feel I cannot long &longs;urvive this dreadful conflict.

[figure description] Page 154.[end figure description]

Father of mercy, here let me fini&longs;h my exi&longs;tence.”
Her agonizing &longs;en&longs;ations overpowered her, and &longs;he
fell &longs;en&longs;ele&longs;s on the floor.

“Take her away,” &longs;aid Mrs. Crayton, “&longs;he will
really frighten me into hy&longs;terics; take her away I
&longs;ay this in&longs;tant.”

“And where mu&longs;t I take the poor creature?”
&longs;aid the &longs;ervant with a voice and look of compa&longs;&longs;io

“Any where,” cried &longs;he ha&longs;tily, only don't let
me ever &longs;ee her again. I declare &longs;he has flurried
me &longs;o, I &longs;han't be my&longs;elf again this fortnight.”

John, a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted by his fellow-&longs;ervant, rai&longs;ed and carried
her down &longs;tairs. “Poor &longs;oul,” &longs;aid he, “you
&longs;hall not lay in the &longs;treet this night. I have a bed
and a poor little hovel, where my wife and her
little ones re&longs;t them, but they &longs;hall watch to night,
and you &longs;hall be &longs;heltered from danger.” They
placed her in a chair; and the benevolent man,
a&longs;&longs;i&longs;ted by one of his comrades, carried her to
the place where his wife and children lived. A
&longs;urgeon was &longs;ent for: he bled her, &longs;he gave &longs;igns of
returning life, and before the dawn, gave birth to
a female infant. After this event &longs;he lay for &longs;ome
hours in a kind of &longs;tupor; and if at any time &longs;he
&longs;poke, it was with a quickne&longs;s and incoherence
that plainly evinced the total deprivation of her
rea&longs;on.