the advice and machinations of La Rue, which led her to this imprudent
action; she recollected her agitation at the receipt of her mother's
letter, and saw in it the conflict of her mind.

"Does that letter relate to Charlotte?" said Mr. Eldridge, having waited
some time in expectation of Madame Du Pont's speaking.

"It does," said she. "Charlotte is well, but cannot return today."

"Not return, Madam? where is she? who will detain her from her fond,
expecting parents?"

"You distract me with these questions, Mr. Eldridge. Indeed I know not
where she is, or who has seduced her from her duty."

The whole truth now rushed at once upon Mr. Eldridge's mind. "She has
eloped then," said he. "My child is betrayed; the darling, the comfort
of my aged heart, is lost. Oh would to heaven I had died but yesterday."

A violent gush of grief in some measure relieved him, and, after several
vain attempts, he at length assumed sufficient composure to read the
note.

"And how shall I return to my children?" said he: "how approach that
mansion, so late the habitation of peace? Alas! my dear Lucy, how will
you support these heart-rending tidings? or how shall I be enabled to
console you, who need so much consolation myself?"

The old man returned to the chaise, but the light step and cheerful
countenance were no more; sorrow filled his heart, and guided his