CHAPTER XVII.

A Wedding.

On the day before their arrival at New-York, after dinner, Crayton arose from his seat, and placing himself by Mademoiselle, thus addressed the company—­

“As we are now nearly arrived at our destined port, I think it but my duty to inform you, my friends, that this lady,” (taking her hand,) “has placed herself under my protection.  I have seen and severely felt the anguish of her heart, and through every shade which cruelty or malice may throw over her, can discover the most amiable qualities.  I thought it but necessary to mention my esteem for her before our disembarkation, as it is my fixed resolution, the morning after we land, to give her an undoubted title to my favour and protection by honourably uniting my fate to hers.  I would wish every gentleman here therefore to remember that her honour henceforth is mine, and,” continued he, looking at Belcour, “should any man presume to speak in the least disrespectfully of her, I shall not hesitate to pronounce him a scoundrel.”

Belcour cast at him a smile of contempt, and bowing profoundly low, wished Mademoiselle much joy in the proposed union; and assuring the Colonel that he need not be in the least apprehensive of any one throwing the least odium on the character of his lady, shook him by the hand with ridiculous gravity, and left the cabin.

The truth was, he was glad to be rid of La Rue, and so he was but freed from her, he cared not who fell a victim to her infamous arts.

The inexperienced Charlotte was astonished at what she heard.  She thought La Rue had, like herself, only been urged by the force of her attachment to Belcour, to quit her friends, and follow him to the feat of war:  how wonderful then, that she should resolve to marry another man.  It was certainly extremely wrong.  It was indelicate.  She mentioned her thoughts to Montraville.  He laughed at her simplicity, called her a little idiot, and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of the world.  “If the world sanctifies such things, ’tis a very bad world I think,” said Charlotte.  “Why I always understood they were to have been married when they arrived at New-York.  I am sure Mademoiselle told me Belcour promised to marry her.”

“Well, and suppose he did?”

“Why, he should be obliged to keep his word I think.”

“Well, but I suppose he has changed his mind,” said Montraville, “and then you know the case is altered.”

Charlotte looked at him attentively for a moment.  A full sense of her own situation rushed upon her mind.  She burst into tears, and remained silent.  Montraville too well understood the cause of her tears.  He kissed her cheek, and bidding her not make herself uneasy, unable to bear the silent but keen remonstrance, hastily left her.