A MISTAKE DISCOVERED.
JULIA Franklin was the only child of a man of large property, who, at
the age of eighteen, left her independent mistress of an unincumbered
income of seven hundred a year; she was a girl of a lively disposition,
and humane, susceptible heart: she resided in New-York with an uncle,
who loved her too well, and had too high an opinion of her prudence, to
scrutinize her actions so much as would have been necessary with many
young ladies, who were not blest with her discretion: she was, at the
time Montraville arrived at New-York, the life of society, and the
universal toast. Montraville was introduced to her by the following
accident.
One night when he was upon guard, a dreadful fire broke out near Mr.
Franklin's house, which, in a few hours, reduced that and several others
to ashes; fortunately no lives were lost, and, by the assiduity of the
soldiers, much valuable property was saved from the flames. In the midst
of the confusion an old gentleman came up to Montraville, and, putting
a small box into his hands, cried--“Keep it, my good Sir, till I come
to you again;” and then rushing again into the thickest of the
crowd, Montraville saw him no more. He waited till the fire was quite
extinguished and the mob dispersed; but in vain: the old gentleman did
not appear to claim his property; and Montraville, fearing to make any
enquiry, lest he should meet with impostors who might lay claim, without
any legal right, to the box, carried it to his lodgings, and locked it
up: he naturally imagined, that the person who committed it to his care
knew him, and would, in a day or two, reclaim it; but several weeks
passed on, and no enquiry being made, he began to be uneasy, and
resolved to examine the contents of the box, and if they were, as he
supposed, valuable, to spare no pains to discover, and restore them
to the owner. Upon opening it, he found it contained jewels to a large
amount, about two hundred pounds in money, and a miniature picture set
for a bracelet. On examining the picture, he thought he had somewhere
seen features very like it, but could not recollect where. A few
days after, being at a public assembly, he saw Miss Franklin, and the
likeness was too evident to be mistaken: he enquired among his brother
officers if any of them knew her, and found one who was upon terms of
intimacy in the family: “then introduce me to her immediately,” said
he, “for I am certain I can inform her of something which will give her
peculiar pleasure.”
He was immediately introduced, found she was the owner of the jewels,
and was invited to breakfast the next morning in order to their
restoration. This whole evening Montraville was honoured with Julia's
hand; the lively sallies of her wit, the elegance of her manner,
powerfully charmed him: he forgot Charlotte, and indulged himself in
saying every thing that was polite and tender to Julia. But on retiring,
recollection returned. “What am I about?” said he: “though I cannot
marry Charlotte, I cannot be villain enough to forsake her, nor must
I dare to trifle with the heart of Julia Franklin. I will return this
box,” said he, “which has been the source of so much uneasiness already,
and in the evening pay a visit to my poor melancholy Charlotte, and
endeavour to forget this fascinating Julia.”
He arose, dressed himself, and taking the picture out, “I will reserve
this from the rest,” said he, “and by presenting it to her when she
thinks it is lost, enhance the value of the obligation.” He repaired to
Mr. Franklin's, and found Julia in the breakfast parlour alone.
“How happy am I, Madam,” said he, “that being the fortunate instrument
of saving these jewels has been the means of procuring me the
acquaintance of so amiable a lady. There are the jewels and money all
safe.”
“But where is the picture, Sir?” said Julia.
“Here, Madam. I would not willingly part with it.”
“It is the portrait of my mother,” said she, taking it from him: “'tis
all that remains.” She pressed it to her lips, and a tear trembled in
her eyes. Montraville glanced his eye on her grey night gown and black
ribbon, and his own feelings prevented a reply.
Julia Franklin was the very reverse of Charlotte Temple: she was tall,
elegantly shaped, and possessed much of the air and manner of a woman
of fashion; her complexion was a clear brown, enlivened with the glow of
health, her eyes, full, black, and sparkling, darted their intelligent
glances through long silken lashes; her hair was shining brown, and her
features regular and striking; there was an air of innocent gaiety that
played about her countenance, where good humour sat triumphant.
“I have been mistaken,” said Montraville. “I imagined I loved Charlotte:
but alas! I am now too late convinced my attachment to her was merely
the impulse of the moment. I fear I have not only entailed lasting
misery on that poor girl, but also thrown a barrier in the way of my own
happiness, which it will be impossible to surmount. I feel I love Julia
Franklin with ardour and sincerity; yet, when in her presence, I am
sensible of my own inability to offer a heart worthy her acceptance, and
remain silent.” Full of these painful thoughts, Montraville walked out
to see Charlotte: she saw him approach, and ran out to meet him: she
banished from her countenance the air of discontent which ever appeared
when he was absent, and met him with a smile of joy.
“I thought you had forgot me, Montraville,” said she, “and was very
unhappy.”
“I shall never forget you, Charlotte,” he replied, pressing her hand.
The uncommon gravity of his countenance, and the brevity of his reply,
alarmed her.
“You are not well,” said she; “your hand is hot; your eyes are heavy;
you are very ill.”
“I am a villain,” said he mentally, as he turned from her to hide his
emotions.
“But come,” continued she tenderly, “you shall go to bed, and I will sit
by, and watch you; you will be better when you have slept.”
Montraville was glad to retire, and by pretending sleep, hide the
agitation of his mind from her penetrating eye. Charlotte watched by him
till a late hour, and then, lying softly down by his side, sunk into a
profound sleep, from whence she awoke not till late the next morning.