“So far,” replied he, “that I myself have received advances from her which I would not take advantage of out of regard to you:  but hang it, think no more about her.  I dined at Franklin’s to-day, and Julia bid me seek and bring you to tea:  so come along, my lad, make good use of opportunity, and seize the gifts of fortune while they are within your reach.”  Montraville was too much agitated to pass a happy evening even in the company of Julia Franklin:  he determined to visit Charlotte early the next morning, tax her with her falsehood, and take an everlasting leave of her; but when the morning came, he was commanded on duty, and for six weeks was prevented from putting his design in execution.  At length he found an hour to spare, and walked out to spend it with Charlotte:  it was near four o’clock in the afternoon when he arrived at her cottage; she was not in the parlour, and without calling the servant he walked up stairs, thinking to find her in her bed room.  He opened the door, and the first object that met his eyes was Charlotte asleep on the bed, and Belcour by her side.

“Death and distraction,” said he, stamping, “this is too much.  Rise, villain, and defend yourself.”  Belcour sprang from the bed.  The noise awoke Charlotte; terrified at the furious appearance of Montraville, and seeing Belcour with him in the chamber, she caught hold of his arm as he stood by the bed-side, and eagerly asked what was the matter.

“Treacherous, infamous girl,” said he, “can you ask?  How came he here?” pointing to Belcour.

“As heaven is my witness,” replied she weeping, “I do not know.  I have not seen him for these three weeks.”

“Then you confess he sometimes visits you?”

“He came sometimes by your desire.”

“’Tis false; I never desired him to come, and you know I did not:  but mark me, Charlotte, from this instant our connexion is at an end.  Let Belcour, or any other of your favoured lovers, take you and provide for you; I have done with you for ever.”

He was then going to leave her; but starting wildly from the bed, she threw herself on her knees before him, protesting her innocence and entreating him not to leave her.  “Oh Montraville,” said she, “kill me, for pity’s sake kill me, but do not doubt my fidelity.  Do not leave me in this horrid situation; for the sake of your unborn child, oh! spurn not the wretched mother from you.”

“Charlotte,” said he, with a firm voice, “I shall take care that neither you nor your child want any thing in the approaching painful hour; but we meet no more.”  He then endeavoured to raise her from the ground; but in vain; she clung about his knees, entreating him to believe her innocent, and conjuring Belcour to clear up the dreadful mystery.

Belcour cast on Montraville a smile of contempt:  it irritated him almost to madness; he broke from the feeble arms of the distressed girl; she shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor.