....

"Her HUSBAND !" cried Bernard, "distracted woman, she knows not what she says; but why this solicitude for the duke? perhaps, thought he, tis some unfortunate victim of youthful indiscretion as it is called among the votaries of fashion. "Ah, giddy world," continued Bernard, "what an appetite is thine!. "You, the disturber of a peaceful family-you, who have played the assassin of virtuous repose you, the destroyer of virgin innocence! tis to you we put this question. This is the commentary, search your own bosom for the text! we arrogate to ourselves no claim to superior virtue. We have passions like yourself, and regarding them as we do the primeval springs of human action we are willing to palliate and forgive but can this suffice the pregnant mother of your illicit commerce, bring back the peaceful days of former happiness, touch with pity the enraged parent at his daughter's infamy, wash out the stig ma of your child's reproachful birth-or change the inveterate ordinances of society? no, no! this were impossible. To your own breast we commit the unfinished apostrophe of the virtuous Bernard. Look at the situation and pause upon the self-evident materials of his reflections!

"And did she murder him?" inquired Agnes with affecting pathos.

"He yet lives," replied Bernard, "and in safety too I hear. But whence this solicitude for the duke Aranza ?” "Ah! ask not that was he in danger then? O! answer me!"

"He was way-laid; his wife and daughter cruelly slain; and as the story runs, while in pursuit of the ruffian, suspecting a benighted traveller for the murderer, he closed in combat, and received a desperate wound; still he lives, however, and free from danger I hope."

"Say you so? I am glad to hear it! excuse my anxiety: but what are your last accounts?"

"That he was better. My information is of the best, I have it from the person who unhappily gave the blow. He is my friend, and though it was his misfortune to wound the duke, he saved his life by taking his who killed the dutchess and her daughter."

"Detested woman!" cried Agnes, "this deed was thine. Destined by her father to take the veil, Violante was placed in this infamous abode, and her immense fortune, provided she voluntarily renounced the world, was by her father's will forthcoming to the convent. But the will is defective, and all her estates revert to her uncle the instant it is discovered that her consent to enter the. convent was obtained by compulsion. That uncle is the duke Aranza, you may guess the rest. Fly to him and tell him of the danger she is in !"

"That is past, I hope," interrupted Bernard. "She left this with a troubled mind. Such will be the reflections of her couch, that unless you divulge this interview, you shall find her by to-morrow an altered woman, Mention not our meeting, and abide the consequence of what I prophesy. Dare I confide in you, Agnes?"

"Indeed you may."

"I believe you.

Violante! Agnes" "Has charms!" she replied with a smile.

"My heart knows it. But before I proceed, let me swear to you in presence of your saint, that mine is an honorable passion. By heaven I speak true! may I solicit your friendship?"

"How if she should reject." "Sound her, good Agnes,"

"But who must I say?"

"My name is Bernard-a captain in the regiment of I am not affluent, but I have enough to satisfy the economy of love. Her fortune I seek not-disBefore I knew her

interested passion drives me on.

rank I aspired to win her heart."

To-morrow evening

"I'll think of it; but how convey intelligence ?" "There is no difficulty in that. for a week in succession, I'll be beneath the chapel window as the bell tolls for vespers. My prophetiek spirit, inspires me with successful love; and be thou but the harbinger of joyous news, and my inventive mind shall open for Violante a passage to the world and me!"

This is hal

"The hour grows late; and I must dispatch. Seignior you forget the danger of detection. lowed ground, and dreadful is the punishment that awaits your discovery. How do you purpose to quit the convent without observation ?"

"I forgot that," cried Bernard.

"Pray how did you find admittance ?”

This he explained, but owned his inability to páss without her assistance.

"Holy virgin!" she exclaimed, "we are lost.-Stay, there is one mode left. I'll be with you presently."

She brought with her the habit of a Franciscan friar, and having thrown it round him, bade him to follow in silence! "You'll be taken for the confessor of the convent. Speak not, I charge you; and when I leave you at the outward gate, hasten to unrobe to evade suspicion."-The plan succeeded, and Bernard returned home to meditate upon his pillow the singular adventure he had witnessed.

The ensuing evening, by the appointed hour, Bernard was at his post beneath the chapel wall. Long he loitered in anxious suspense; but he looked in vain for the signal from above. The succeeding evening brought him again to the spot; but no Violante, no Agnes appeared. He was not discouraged; and once more he took his post. The bell had not yet chimed. Scarcely had he gained his station, when he perceived something white pass through the grating from within, and drop at his feet. It was a letter the answer to his hopes. “Farewel !” he exclaimed, as a signal that it was in his possession, and instantly hurried home to peruse the contents. They were as follows:

.0

"Believe me, generous stranger, I am grateful for the compassion of the publick; but more for the sympathy you bestow upon my unhappy situation; both revive my drooping spirits, and will prove a solace in desponding banishment. But think of me no more-forget that I exist. Your generous efforts would only aggravate the severity of confinement. Powerful influence has been used in vain to snatch me from this abhorred abode. I still cherish a faint ray of hope-and, however distant, should it prove successful, I shall be proud to acknowledge the motives which govern your kind intentions. VIOLANTE."

This cold and blasting prospect to his hope was a disappointment acutely felt by the anxious mind of Bernard-but his attention was soon drawn to other characters upon the envelope.

"And must the resolution be thus easily shaken! can Agnes, whom dear bought knowledge should have taught to shun a faithless sex, place confidence in a stranger! but the heart, long cold to social habits, dissolves with sensibility and turns to Bernard: No matter what the cause all I ask is secresy, and I promise friendship in return-banish idle curiosity; cease to speculate upon what I am, and I pledge my services.

"Violante is attached to me, and with sufficient reason. She has confided to me your confession, and the answer she has made to your proposals: her reply is of a price with the ingenuousness of her disposition; much as she despairs of her release, she would not hazard the danger of her reputation.

44 "The abbess is in a more dreadful condition than you represented. The physician who attends her is well known in Saragossa as an eccentrick old fool, passionately fond of botany, and who is desirous of being esteemed a musician though without a talent for the art-Saltator is his name: could you practise upon his foibles it might gain you admittance to the convent, for I have a plan to impart which may conduce to Violante's release, and which must be conveyed to her uncle without delay. I shall know you in your disguise, and you have only to observe my motions. Bring with you, however, some tidings of the duke Aranza."

These few words of Agnes elevated his spirits to their highest tone; her meaning was sufficiently intelligible, and every dictate to his wishes vanished before his eyes. This Saltator was known to Bernard. Prone