odness with all the genuine warmth which favours kindle in a
young and innocent heart. Such alone know how to estimate benefits at
their full value. They who are conscious of Mankind's perfidy and
selfishness, ever receive an obligation with apprehension and distrust:
They suspect that some secret motive must lurk behind it: They express
their thanks with restraint and caution, and fear to praise a kind
action to its full extent, aware that some future day a return may be
required. Not so Antonia; She thought the world was composed only of
those who resembled her, and that vice existed, was to her still a
secret. The Monk had been of service to her; He said that He wished
her well; She was grateful for his kindness, and thought that no terms
were strong enough to be the vehicle of her thanks. With what delight
did Ambrosio listen to the declaration of her artless gratitude! The
natural grace of her manners, the unequalled sweetness of her voice,
her modest vivacity, her unstudied elegance, her expressive
countenance, and intelligent eyes united to inspire him with pleasure
and admiration, While the solidity and correctness of her remarks
received additional beauty from the unaffected simplicity of the
language in which they were conveyed.

Ambrosio was at length obliged to tear himself from this conversation
which possessed for him but too many charms. He repeated to Antonia
his wishes that his visits should not be made known, which desire She
promised to observe. He then quitted the House, while his Enchantress
hastened to her Mother, ignorant of the mischief which her Beauty had
caused. She was eager to know Elvira's opinion of the Man whom She had
praised in such enthusiastic terms, and was delighted to find it
equally favourable, if not even more so, than her own.

'Even before He spoke,' said Elvira, 'I was prejudiced in his favour:
The fervour of his exhortations, dignity of his manner, and closeness
of his reasoning, were very far from inducing me to alter my opinion.
His fine and full-toned voice struck me particularly; But surely,
Antonia, I have heard it before. It seemed perfectly familiar to my
ear. Either I must have known the Abbot in former times, or his voice
bears a wonderful resemblance to that of some other, to whom I have
often listened.

There were certain tones which touched my very heart, and made me feel
sensations so singular, that I strive in vain to account for them.'

'My dear