u, a
boarder at the convent.

'Let us pray for his soul!' said a nun, who had till now sat in silent
attention. 'If he was criminal, his punishment in this world was
sufficient.'

There was a mixture of wildness and solemnity in her manner of
delivering this, which struck Emily exceedingly; but Mademoiselle
repeated her question, without noticing the solemn eagerness of the nun.

'I dare not presume to say what was his crime,' replied sister Frances;
'but I have heard many reports of an extraordinary nature, respecting
the late Marquis de Villeroi, and among others, that, soon after the
death of his lady, he quitted Chateau-le-Blanc, and never afterwards
returned to it. I was not here at the time, so I can only mention it
from report, and so many years have passed since the Marchioness died,
that few of our sisterhood, I believe, can do more.'

'But I can,' said the nun, who had before spoke, and whom they called
sister Agnes.

'You then,' said Mademoiselle Feydeau, 'are possibly acquainted with
circumstances, that enable you to judge, whether he was criminal or not,
and what was the crime imputed to him.'

'I am,' replied the nun; 'but who shall dare to scrutinize my
thoughts--who shall dare to pluck out my opinion? God only is his judge,
and to that judge he is gone!'

Emily looked with surprise at sister Frances, who returned her a
significant glance.

'I only requested your opinion,' said Mademoiselle Feydeau, mildly; 'if
the subject is displeasing to you, I will drop it.'

'Displeasing!'--said the nun, with emphasis.--'We are idle talkers;
we do not weigh the meaning of the words we use; DISPLEASING is a poor
word. I will go pray.' As she said this she rose from her seat, and with
a profound sigh quitted the room.

'What can be the meaning of this?' said Emily, when she was gone.

'It is nothing extraordinary,' replied sister Frances, 'she is often
thus; but she had no meaning in what she says. Her intellects are at
times deranged. Did you never see her thus before?'

'Never,' said Emily. 'I have, indeed, sometimes, thought, that there was
the melancholy of madness in her look, but never before perceived it in
her speech. Poor soul, I will pray for her!'

'Your prayers then, my daughter, will unite with ours,' observed the
lady abbess, 'she has need of them.'

'Dear lady,' said Mademoiselle Feydeau, addressing the abbess, 'what is
your opinion of the late Marquis? The strange circumstances, that h