CHAPTER XII. [Instructor’s
note: Pressure and suspense build over
Nature's last, best gift:
Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could
To sight or thought be nam'd!
Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet!
How thou art fall'n!—
[12.1]
When
[12.2]
"My dear child,"
said the affectionate governess, "what is the cause of the languor
[weak condition]
so apparent in your
frame? Are you not well?"
[12.3]
"Yes, my dear Madam, very well," replied
[12.4]
"Come cheer up, my
love," said the governess; "I believe I have brought a cordial
[refreshing drink]
to revive them.
I
have just received a letter from your good mama, and here is one for yourself."
[12.6]
"As to-morrow is
the anniversary of the happy day that gave my beloved girl to the anxious wishes
of a maternal heart, I have requested your governess
[Mme Du Pont]
to let you come
home and spend it with us;
and as I know you to be a good affectionate child, and make it your study to
improve in those branches of education which you know will give
most pleasure to your delighted parents,
as a reward for your diligence and attention I have
prepared an agreeable surprise for your
reception. Your grand-father*, eager to embrace the darling of his aged
heart, will come in the chaise
[carriage]
for you; so
hold yourself in readiness to attend him by nine o'clock. Your dear father joins
in every tender wish for your health and future felicity, which warms the heart
of my dear
[12.7]
"Gracious heaven!" cried
[12.8]
Madame Du Pont was
surprised. "Why these tears, my love?" said she. "Why this seeming agitation? I
thought the letter would have rejoiced, instead of distressing you."
[12.9]
"It does rejoice me," replied
[12.10]
"You do right," said Madame Du Pont, "to ask the assistance
of heaven that you may continue to deserve their love. Continue, my dear
[12.11]
"Oh!" cried
[12.12]
She arose from her seat, and flew to the apartment of La
Rue. "Oh Mademoiselle!" said she,
"I am
snatched by a miracle from destruction! This letter has saved me: it has
opened my eyes to the folly I was so near committing. I will not go,
Mademoiselle; I will not wound the hearts of those dear parents who make my
happiness the whole study of their lives."
[12.13]
"Well," said
Mademoiselle, "do as you please, Miss; but pray understand that my resolution is
taken, and it is not in your power to alter it. I shall meet the gentlemen at
the appointed hour, and shall not be surprized at any outrage which Montraville
may commit, when he finds himself disappointed. Indeed I should not be
astonished, was he to come immediately here, and reproach you for your
instability
[fickleness?] in the hearing of the whole school: and what will be the
consequence? You will bear the odium of having formed the resolution of eloping,
and every girl of spirit will laugh at your want of fortitude to put it in
execution, while prudes and fools will load you with reproach and contempt. You
will have lost the confidence of your parents, incurred their anger, and the
scoffs of the world; and what fruit do you expect to reap from this piece of
heroism, (for such no doubt you think it is?) you will have the pleasure to
reflect, that you have deceived the man who adores you, and whom in your heart
you prefer to all other men, and that you are separated from him for ever."
[12.14]
This eloquent harangue was given with such volubility, that
[12.15]
At length she
determined that she would
go with Mademoiselle to the place of assignation, convince Montraville of the
necessity of adhering to the resolution of remaining behind; assure him of her
affection, and bid him adieu.
[12.17]
The hour of assignation arrived: Mademoiselle put what
money and valuables she possessed in her pocket, and advised
[12.18]
Mademoiselle smiled
internally; and they proceeded softly down the back stairs and out of the garden
gate.
Montraville and Belcour were ready to receive them.
[12.19]
"Now," said Montraville, taking
[12.20]
"No," said she,
withdrawing from his embrace, "I am come to take an everlasting farewel."
[12.21]
It would be useless to repeat the conversation that here
ensued, suffice it to say, that Montraville used every argument that had
formerly been successful,
Charlotte's
resolution began to waver, and he drew her almost imperceptibly towards the
chaise
[carriage].
[12.22]
"I cannot go," said she: "cease, dear Montraville, to
persuade. I must not:
religion, duty, forbid."
[12.23]
"Cruel
[12.24]
"Alas! my
torn heart!" said
[12.25]
"Let me direct
you," said Montraville, lifting her into the chaise.
[12.26]
"Oh! my dear forsaken parents!" cried
[12.27]
The chaise drove off.
She shrieked, and fainted into the arms
of her betrayer.
[“Fainting” is easily ridiculed,
but how may the action serve or limit character development for an early woman
protagonist?]
|