I will quit the Monastery this very day. I have a Relation,
Abbess of a Covent in Estramadura: To her will I bend my steps,
and shut myself from the world for ever. Yet tell me, Father;
Shall I bear your good wishes with me to my solitude? Will you
sometimes abstract your attention from heavenly objects to bestow
a thought upon me?'

'Ah! Matilda, I fear that I shall think on you but too often for
my repose!'

'Then I have nothing more to wish for, save that we may meet in
heaven. Farewell, my Friend! my Ambrosio!-- And yet methinks, I
would fain bear with me some token of your regard!'

'What shall I give you?'

'Something.--Any thing.--One of those flowers will be
sufficient.' (Here She pointed to a bush of Roses, planted at the
door of the Grotto.) 'I will hide it in my bosom, and when I am
dead, the Nuns shall find it withered upon my heart.'

The Friar was unable to reply: With slow steps, and a soul heavy
with affliction, He quitted the Hermitage. He approached the
Bush, and stooped to pluck one of the Roses. Suddenly He uttered
a piercing cry, started back hastily, and let the flower, which
He already held, fall from his hand. Matilda heard the shriek,
and flew anxiously towards him.

'What is the matter?' She cried; 'Answer me, for God's sake!
What has happened?'