"Sure," said he, "you cannot mean to insinuate that Charlotte is false." "I don't insinuate it," said Belcour, "I know it." Montraville turned pale as ashes.

"Then there is no faith in woman," said he.
"While I thought you attached to her," said Belcour with an air of indifference, "I never wished to make you uneasy by mentioning her perfidy, but as I know you love and are beloved by Miss Franklin, I was determined not to let these foolish scruples of honour step between you and happiness, or your tenderness for the peace of a perfidious girl prevent your uniting yourself to a woman of honour." "Good heavens!" said Montraville, "what poignant reflections does a man endure who sees a lovely woman plunged in infamy, and is conscious he was her first seducer; but are you certain of what you say, Belcour ?" "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.