sat by him was any other than Rosario. Neither of them dared, or
indeed wished to make an allusion, to the subject which was most
at the hearts of both.

Matilda's efforts to appear gay were evidently forced: Her
spirits were oppressed by the weight of anxiety, and when She
spoke her voice was low and feeble. She seemed desirous of
finishing a conversation which embarrassed her; and complaining
that She was unwell, She requested Ambrosio's permission to
return to the Abbey. He accompanied her to the door of her cell;
and when arrived there, He stopped her to declare his consent to
her continuing the Partner of his solitude so long as should be
agreeable to herself.

She discovered no marks of pleasure at receiving this
intelligence, though on the preceding day She had been so anxious
to obtain the permission.

'Alas! Father,' She said, waving her head mournfully; 'Your
kindness comes too late! My doom is fixed. We must separate for
ever. Yet believe, that I am grateful for your generosity, for
your compassion of an Unfortunate who is but too little deserving
of it!'

She put her handkerchief to her eyes. Her Cowl was only half
drawn over her face. Ambrosio observed that She was pale, and
her eyes sunk and heavy.

'Good God!' He cried; 'You are very ill, Matilda! I shall send
Father Pablos to you instantly.'