How great a pity was it this tender conversation between two persons who had so pure a passion for each other, who had been absent for some time, and who knew not when, or whether ever they should meet again, could not be indulged with no longer continuance! but now mademoiselle du Pont, who had been so good as to stand at some little distance, while they entertained each other, as a watch to give them notice of any interruption, now warned them that they must part:—divine service was over, and the abbess and nuns were returning from chapel.
Short was the farewel the lovers took; mademoiselle Charlotta had told him it would be highly improper he should run the hazard of a discovery by coming there a second time, which would probably incense her father so much, as to convert all the favourable intentions he now might have towards them into the reverse, and he was therefore oblig’d to content himself with printing with his lips the seal of his affection on her hand, which he had scarce done before, on a second motion by mademoiselle du Pont, she shot suddenly from the place and went to her chamber, that no suspicions might arise on her being found so well as to have been able to quit it.
As he had passed for the brother of mademoiselle du Pont, she stayed some little time with him: this lady, whom Charlotta in this exigence had made her confidant, had a great deal of good nature, and seeing the agony Horatio was in, endeavoured to console him by all the arguments she thought might have force;—she told him, that in the short time she had been made partaker of mademoiselle Charlotta’s secrets, she had expressed herself with a tenderness for him, with which he ought to be satisfied, and that she was convinced nothing would ever be capable of making the least alteration in her sentiments.
While she was speaking in this manner, Horatio remembered that he had not given Charlotta her tablet, which he now took out of his pocket, and with the same pencil she had made use of, and which was fastened to it, wrote in the next leaf to that she had employed these words;
“I go, most dear, and most adorable Charlotta; whether to live or die I know not, but which ever is my portion, the passion I have for you is rooted in my soul, and will be equally immortal: life can give no joy but in the hope of being yours, nor death any terrors but being separated from you:—O! let nothing ever prevail on you to forget so perfect an attachment; but in the midst of all the temptations you may be surrounded with, think that you have vouch-safed to encourage my hopes, presuming as they are, and if once lost to them, what must be the destiny of