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out of the carriage in a moment, and before Charles had time to think, had drawn one poor terrified woman out of the wreck of the other conveyance; and Charles, following his example, with some difficulty extricated the other traveller, pale, terrified, and almost fainting; but, in Charles's eyes, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. There was something perhaps in the situation which added to her loveliness in his eyes. Let people say what they will, there must be some feeling of interest excited in our own bosoms before we can fully appreciate beauty; without, it is the mere perfection of a statue -of a picture; it is the most insipid part of beauty ; but give it life, give it animation, give it a claim upon our hearts, and it is beauty indeed! Oh, what would the Venus de Medicis be, if she could move, if she could speak! The beauty of the stranger was great, without considering any thing farther than form and feature ; but she was more lovely in Charles's eyes,
because she was a being to whom he had rendered some assistance. Her very terror was picturesque: he felt as much interested in her fear as he had done in her safety; and from that alone a tie seemed to be drawn between them. For a moment or two after he had raised her from the carriage, she still continued to hold his arm, as if scarcely conscious, and then lifted her eyes to his, with an expression of gratitude that the little service he had done scarcely merited, and Charles felt al. most ashamed that he had not saved her life.
Charles, as well as all the rest of mankind, was a physiognomist, and inclined to judge of a man's habits at least, if not of his disposition, from countenance; but here he felt sure that he was not mistaken.
-“ If ever there was a bright soul,”. thought he, as she raised her glance to his,
depicted in the face of mortal, it shines conspicuous there." The person that Mr. Wilmot had res
cued was evidently the suivante, and this as plainly the mistress; and in a minute the lady's maid had contrived to inform them that the lady was the baroness de S—, who was travelling to Lisle, with a variety of other particulars; nor is it known where she would have stopped in her history, had she not been interrupted by the baroness, who thanked the two gentlemen for their assistance in a faint voice, giving them at the same time the assurance that she was not hurt. She spoke in French, but with an accent that induced Mr. Wilmot to address her. in German, which proved to be her native language, and in which she could express herself with greater fluency.
A new difficulty now presented itself : the berlin of the baroness was entirely shattered, and the other, though it had not been overturned, was too much damaged to admit an idea of proceeding in it as it
St. Quentin, the nearest town, was two miles distant, and no other shelter
within reach; while the sober grey of the sky very plainly announced that night was at no great distance. There was no alternative but to walk to the town; and one of the servants being left with the carriages, Mr. Melville's valet squired the baroness's maid, and Mr. Wilmot, with Charles, supported the lady, who was scarcely able to proceed, from the fear and agitation she had suffered.
As soon as the activity which he had shewn at the moment of the accident was no longer necessary, Mr. Wilmot seemed to fall into double gloom; and though with the most gentlemanlike demeanour he shewed the baroness every attention, any conversation that was kept up till their arrival at St. Quentin, was between her and Charles. It was not till after several pauses, to enable their fair companion to rest, that they reached the city, and there, an apartment being prepared for the baroness, she took leave of them,
with many expressions of gratitude for their polite assistance.
But Charles was not satisfied; he could not detach his thoughts from the fair form that had just quitted them, and began to revolve in his own mind the hopes and possibilities of seeing her again. Wilmot was so quiet, and so cool, and seemed during the whole night so much to have forgotten that there was such a person as the baroness de s upon earth, that Charles was quite provoked with him; and after having spent the evening without hearing one word of his fair enchantress, went to bed, to dream of broken berlins and fainting beauties, till the return of daylight called him once more to himself. The first thing of course which Charles did upon opening his eyes was, as in duty bound, to begin thinking of the baroness; and having once begun to think of such a subject, it was as natural that he could not go to sleep again. Now, though perhaps it is not a logical