as her maid did, gave as presents to Charlotte,
some of the embroidered offerings of Miss
Newton.

It happened that a sudden appointment to
the command of a ship of war, took Captain
Jennings on a trans-Atlantic voyage. He
had not been very long gone, when the
following discovery threw the family of the
Newtons into a state of intense agitation.

In search of some missing article in the
absence of her maid, Miss Newton betook
herself to that young woman's room, and,
quite unsuspiciously, opened a trunk which
was left unlocked. There she found, to her
horror, a number of the handkerchiefs she had
embroidered for her lover. The possibility of
the real truth never flashed across her mind;
the dishonesty of Charlotte seemed to be the
only solution of the incident. "Doubtless,"
she reasoned, "the parcels had been opened
on their way to Captain Jennings, and their
contents stolen."

On the return of Charlotte Mortlock, she
was charged with the robbery. What availed
the assertion that she had received the
handkerchiefs from the captain himself? It
was no defence, and certainly was not calculated
lto soften the anger of her mistress. A
policeman was summoned, the unhappy girl
was charged with felony, underwent examination,
was committed for trial, and, destitute
of witnesses, or of any probable defence, was
ultimately convicted. The judge (now
deceased) who tried the case, was unsparingly
denounced by many philanthropic ladies, for
the admiration he had expressed for the
weeping girl, and especially for his announcement
to the jury, in passing sentence of one
year's imprisonment with hard labour, "that
he would not transport her, since the country
could not afford to lose such beauty." It
was doubtless, not a very judicial remark;
but an innocent girl was, at all events, saved
from a sentence that might have killed her.

Consigned to the County House of
Correction, Charlotte Mortlock observed the best
possible conduct—was modest, humble,
submissive, and industrious—and soon gained the
good-will of all her supervisors. To the
Governor she always asserted her innocence,
and told, with great simplicity, the tale of
her fatal possession of those dangerous gifts.

She had been in prison a few months, when
the Governor received a visit from a certain
old Baronet, who with ill-disguised reluctance,
and in the blunt phraseology which was
peculiar to him, proceeded to say, that "a
girl named Charlotte Mortlock had quite
bewitched his friend Captain Jennings, who
was beyond the Atlantic; and that a letter
he produced would show the singular frame
of mind in which the Captain was, about that
girl."

Assuredly, the letter teemed with
expressions of anguish, remorse, and horror at
the suffering and apparent ruin of "a dear
innocent girl," the victim of his senseless and
heartless imprudence. However, the Baronet
seemed to be anything but touched by his
friend's rhapsodies. He talked much of
"human nature," and of "the weakness of a
man when a pretty girl was in the case;"
but, in order to satisfy his friend's mind,
asked to see her, that he might write some
account of her appearance and condition.
Accordingly, he did see her, in the Governor's
presence. After a few inappropriate questions,
lie cut the interview short, and went away,
manifestly disposed to account his gallant
friend a fool for his excitement.

The incident was not lost upon the Governor,
who listened with increased faith to the poor
girl's protestations. In a few months more
he received a stronger confirmation of them.
Apparently unsatisfied with the Baronet's
services, Captain Jennings wrote to another
friend of his, a public functionary, formerly a
Captain in the renowned Light Division; and
that officer placed in the Governor's hands a
letter from the Captain, expressing unbounded
grief for the dreadful fate of an innocent
young woman. "He could not rest night or
day; she haunted his imagination, and yet he
was distant, and powerless to serve her."
His second messenger was touched with pity,
and consulted the Governor as to the proper
steps to pursue. However, under the
unhappy circumstances of the case, Captain
Jennings being so far away, no formal
document being at hand, and the period of the
poor girl's release being then almost come, it
was deemed unadvisable to take any step.
Charlotte Mortlock fulfilled the judgment of
the law.

She had been carefully observed, her
occupation had been of a womanly character;
she had never incurred a reproof, much less a
punishment, in the prison; and her health
had been well sustained. She, consequently,
quitted her sad abode in a condition suitable
for active exertion. Such assistance as could
be extended to her, on her departure, was
afforded, and so she was launched into the
wide world of London.

She soon found herself penniless. Happily,
she did not linger in want, pawn her clothes
(which were good), and gradually descend to
the extreme privation which has assailed so
many similarly circumstanced. She resolved
to act, and again went to the prison gates.
Well attired, but deeply veiled, so as to defy
recognition, she inquired for the Governor.
The gate porter announced that "a lady"
desired to speak to him. The stranger was
shown in, the veil was uplifted, and, to the
Governor's astonishment, there stood
Charlotte Mortlock! Her hair was neatly and
becomingly arranged about her face; her dress
was quiet and pretty; and altogether she
looked so young, so lovely, and, at the same
time, so modest and innocent, that the
Governor, per force, almost excused the
inconstancy (albeit attended with such fatal
consequences) of Captain Jennings.