fall upon me, and not upon your Sister.'

Lorenzo suffered himself to be prevailed upon by Don Raymond's
entreaties. He resumed his place, and listened to the rest of the
narrative with a gloomy and impatient countenance. The Marquis thus
continued.)

'Scarcely was the first burst of passion past when Agnes, recovering
herself, started from my arms with horror. She called me infamous
Seducer, loaded me with the bitterest reproaches, and beat her bosom in
all the wildness of delirium. Ashamed of my imprudence, I with
difficulty found words to excuse myself. I endeavoured to console her;
I threw myself at her feet, and entreated her forgiveness. She forced
her hand from me, which I had taken, and would have prest to my lips.

'Touch me not!' She cried with a violence which terrified me; 'Monster
of perfidy and ingratitude, how have I been deceived in you! I looked
upon you as my Friend, my Protector: I trusted myself in your hands
with confidence, and relying upon your honour, thought that mine ran no
risque. And 'tis by you, whom I adored, that I am covered with infamy!
'Tis by you that I have been seduced into breaking my vows to God, that
I am reduced to a level with the basest of my sex! Shame upon you,
Villain, you shall never see me more!'

She started from the Bank on which She was seated. I endeavoured to
detain her; But She disengaged herself from me with violence, and took
refuge in the Convent.

I retired, filled with confusion and inquietude. The next morning I
failed not as usual to appear in the Garden; but Agnes was no where to
be seen. At night I waited for her at the place where we generally
met; I found no better success. Several days and nights passed away in
the same manner. At length I saw my offended Mistress cross the walk
on whose borders I was working: She was accompanied by the same young
Pensioner, on whose arm She seemed from weakness obliged to support
herself. She looked upon me for a moment, but instantly turned her
head away. I waited her return; But She passed on to the Convent
without paying any attention to me, or the penitent looks with which I
implored her forgiveness.

As soon as the Nuns were retired, the old Gardener joined me with a
sorrowful air.

'Segnor,' said He, 'it grieves me to say, that I can be no longer of
use to you. The Lady whom you used to meet has just assured me that if
I admitted you again into the Garden, She would discover the whole
bu