and for
some time every thing went on as usual: till at last one of the Nuns,
conspicuous from the nobleness of her air and elegance of her figure,
carelessly permitted a letter to fall from her bosom. She was
retiring, unconscious of her loss. Ambrosio supposed it to have been
written by some one of her Relations, and picked it up intending to
restore it to her.

'Stay, Daughter,' said He; 'You have let fall....'

At this moment, the paper being already open, his eye involuntarily
read the first words. He started back with surprise! The Nun had
turned round on hearing his voice: She perceived her letter in his
hand, and uttering a shriek of terror, flew hastily to regain it.

'Hold!' said the Friar in a tone of severity; 'Daughter, I must read
this letter.'

'Then I am lost!' She exclaimed clasping her hands together wildly.

All colour instantly faded from her face; she trembled with agitation,
and was obliged to fold her arms round a Pillar of the Chapel to save
herself from sinking upon the floor. In the meanwhile the Abbot read
the following lines.

'All is ready for your escape, my dearest Agnes. At twelve tomorrow
night I shall expect to find you at the Garden door: I have obtained
the Key, and a few hours will suffice to place you in a secure asylum.
Let no mistaken scruples induce you to reject the certain means of
preserving yourself and the innocent Creature whom you nourish in your
bosom. Remember that you had promised to be mine, long ere you engaged
yourself to the church; that your situation will soon be evident to the
prying eyes of your Companions; and that flight is the only means of
avoiding the effects of their malevolent resentment. Farewell, my
Agnes! my dear and destined Wife! Fail not to be at the Garden door at
twelve!'

As soon as He had finished, Ambrosio bent an eye stern and angry upon
the imprudent Nun.

'This letter must to the Prioress!' said He, and passed her.

His words sounded like thunder to her ears: She awoke from her
torpidity only to be sensible of the dangers of her situation. She
followed him hastily, and detained him by his garment.

'Stay! Oh! stay!' She cried in the accents of despair, while She threw
herself at the Friar's feet, and bathed them with her tears. 'Father,
compassionate my youth! Look with indulgence on a Woman's weakness,
and deign to conceal my frailty! The remainder of my life shall be
employed in expiating this single fault, a