"Let me alone for that," replied I, "if I can only have an interview
with her."

"That is easily done," said Mary Stowe, "the nuns are allowed to see
their friends at the grate."

"And I will go with you to the convent to-morrow, and engage the
superior's attention while you talk with your cousin," added her
father.

In the evening Langley and I held a council of war, wherein it was
decided, _nem. con_., that our plot was in a fair way to be
accomplished.

CHAPTER VIII.

_The Visit at the Convent._

The next day Mr. Stowe and myself set out for the convent in that
gentleman's carriage. Upon our arriving there we were shown into a
spacious parlor, at one end of which was a larger grated window,
opening into a smaller room. In a few moments the Lady Superior
entered. She was a tall, handsome woman, and surprised my Protestant
prejudices by receiving us very cordially, and immediately engaging
with Mr. Stowe in a very lively, animated conversation in Spanish.
Suddenly she turned toward me,

"My good friend, Senor Stowe, says that you wish to see Sister Agatha,
who was your cousin."

"Yes, senora."

"Well, the senor and myself are going to the school-room, and I will
send her to you; but you must not make love to your cousin--she is
very pretty, and you Americans have very sad morals;" and so saying,
the lively superior led the way to the school-room, followed by Mr.
Stowe.

After they had retired I went up to the grate, and waited several
minutes, until at last a door of the inner room opened, and a nun
entered. Her face bore the traces of deep melancholy; but
notwithstanding that, and the unbecoming dress which half concealed
her form, I thought I had never seen a woman so lovely, so completely
beautiful. I stood in mute wonder and admiration.

"Did you wish to see me, senor?" asked the nun, in a low, soft voice.

"I did, madam," I replied. "If you are Clara Garcia, allow me to
introduce myself as your cousin, Frank Byrne."

"_Madre di Dios!_" cried the nun, her face lighting up with a smile of
astonished delight, "can it be possible! How did you come here?"

"In one of my father's ships," I replied. "I am a seaman on board of
her."

"What, the Cabot?" asked Sister Agatha, suddenly, with a color in her
cheeks.

"No, a new ship--the Gentile."

The nun made many inquiries about my father and mother, and her
cousins in Boston; and we chatted away quite merrily for some minutes.

"You seem to