take an interest in the world, after all," said I,
striving to lead the conversation so that I might introduce the matter
which was my business.

"Not much, generally," sighed Sister Agatha. "I sometimes think of
past times with regret, but I am for the most part very happy."

This was a stumper. I determined to see if all this composure was
real.

"Can any one hear us?" I whispered.

"No," answered the nun, opening her great eyes.

"Well, then, I've a great deal to tell you. Let me ask you, in the
first place, if you know where your brother Pedro is."

I was frightened at the expression which my cousin's face assumed.
"Yes!" she said, in a hoarse voice, "he is in the _Guarda-Costa_. My
God! Frank! I saw him a year ago in the streets, toiling as a
scavenger."

I saw that there was yet deep feeling under the cold, melancholy
exterior. I had but little time to work, and hastened to proceed.

"Cousin Clara," I resumed, "you are mistaken; your brother has escaped
from confinement, and is now on board my ship, the Gentile."

"Thank God!" cried the nun, clasping her hands, "now am I willing to
die."

"And further," said I, immediately continuing my revelations, "can you
repress your feelings?"

"What more can you have to tell me?" whispered Sister Agatha. "Go on,
I am not so nearly stone as I thought myself; but I can hear without
any dangerous outbreak of emotion whatever you have to say."

"Well," I resumed, "you were mistaken about Mr. Stewart's death--"

I had been too abrupt. The nun turned deadly pale, and clung to the
bars of the grate for support; but the emotion was momentary. "Go on,"
said she, in a hoarse whisper.

"Can you bear it?" I asked, anxiously.

"Yes, no matter what it may be."

"Command yourself, then; Mr. Stewart is not only alive, but well; he
loves you yet most ardently, but without hope; he is now on board of
the Gentile, he and Pedro--not three miles from you."

While thus by piecemeal I doled out my information, I watched the
effect on my auditor. There was no more fainting. Her lips parted, and
displayed her white teeth firmly set against each other, and her
little hands grasped the bars of the grate convulsively.

Quickly and concisely I stated my plan for her escape; but still she
maintained the same attitude; she did not even seem to hear me.

"Clara, do you consent?" I cried, in despair, for I heard the steps of
the Superior and Mr. Stowe.

Suddenly she extended her h