The Abbot started at this unexpected avowal. Prostrate on the
ground lay the feigned Rosario, as if waiting in silence the
decision of his Judge. Astonishment on the one part,
apprehension on the other, for some minutes chained them in the
same attitudes, as had they been touched by the Rod of some
Magician. At length recovering from his confusion, the Monk
quitted the Grotto, and sped with precipitation towards the
Abbey. His action did not escape the Suppliant. She sprang from
the ground; She hastened to follow him, overtook him, threw
herself in his passage, and embraced his knees. Ambrosio strove
in vain to disengage himself from her grasp.

'Do not fly me!' She cried; 'Leave me not abandoned to the
impulse of despair! Listen, while I excuse my imprudence; while
I acknowledge my Sister's story to be my own! I am Matilda; You
are her Beloved.'

If Ambrosio's surprise was great at her first avowal, upon
hearing her second it exceeded all bounds. Amazed, embarrassed,
and irresolute He found himself incapable of pronouncing a
syllable, and remained in silence gazing upon Matilda: This gave
her opportunity to continue her explanation as follows.

'Think not, Ambrosio, that I come to rob your Bride of your
affections. No, believe me: Religion alone deserves you; and
far is it from Matilda's wish to draw you from the paths of
virtue. What I feel for you is love, not licentiousness; I sigh
to be possessor of your heart, not lust for the enjoyment of your
person. Deign to listen to my vindication: A few moments will