ries of St. Clare, none was more lovely, none more
gentle, than Agnes de Medina. I knew her well; She entrusted to me
every secret of her heart; I was her Friend and Confident, and I loved
her with sincere affection. Nor was I singular in my attachment. Her
piety unfeigned, her willingness to oblige, and her angelic
disposition, rendered her the Darling of all that was estimable in the
Convent. The Prioress herself, proud, scrupulous and forbidding, could
not refuse Agnes that tribute of approbation which She bestowed upon no
one else. Every one has some fault: Alas! Agnes had her weakness!
She violated the laws of our order, and incurred the inveterate hate of
the unforgiving Domina. St. Clare's rules are severe: But grown
antiquated and neglected, many of late years have either been
forgotten, or changed by universal consent into milder punishments.
The penance, adjudged to the crime of Agnes, was most cruel, most
inhuman! The law had been long exploded: Alas! It still existed, and
the revengeful Prioress now determined to revive it.

This law decreed that the Offender should be plunged into a private
dungeon, expressly constituted to hide from the world for ever the
Victim of Cruelty and tyrannic superstition. In this dreadful abode
She was to lead a perpetual solitude, deprived of all society, and
believed to be dead by those whom affection might have prompted to
attempt her rescue. Thus was She to languish out the remainder of her
days, with no other food than bread and water, and no other comfort
than the free indulgence of her tears.'

The indignation created by this account was so violent, as for some
moments to interrupt St. Ursula's narrative. When the disturbance
ceased, and silence again prevailed through the Assembly, She continued
her discourse, while at every word the Domina's countenance betrayed
her increasing terrors.

'A Council of the twelve elder Nuns was called: I was of the number.
The Prioress in exaggerated colours described the offence of Agnes, and
scrupled not to propose the revival of this almost forgotten law. To
the shame of our sex be it spoken, that either so absolute was the
Domina's will in the Convent, or so much had disappointment, solitude,
and self-denial hardened their hearts and sowered their tempers that
this barbarous proposal was assented to by nine voices out of the
twelve. I was not one of the nine. Frequent opportunities had
convinced me of the virtues