d kindness with which
the old man spoke melted Amine to tears, and the holy father quitted
her side to go down and collect her baggage, with a warmth of feeling
towards her which he had seldom felt before, and with greater hopes
than ever that his endeavours to convert her would not ultimately be
thrown away.

"He is a good man," thought Amine, as she descended--and Amine was
right. Father Mathias was a good man, but, like all men, he was
not perfect. A zealot in the cause of his religion, he would have
cheerfully sacrificed his life as a martyr, but if opposed or thwarted
in his views, he could then be cruel and unjust.

Father Mathias had many reasons for placing Amine in the Ursuline
convent. He felt bound to offer her that protection which he had
so long received under her roof; he wished her to be under the
surveillance of the abbess, for he could not help imagining, although
he had no proof, that she was still essaying or practising forbidden
arts. He did not state this to the abbess, as he felt it would be
unjust to raise suspicions; but he represented Amine as one who would
do honour to their faith, to which she was not yet quite converted.
The very idea of effecting a conversion is to the tenants of a convent
an object of surpassing interest, and the abbess was much better
pleased to receive one who required her councils and persuasions, than
a really pious Christian who would give her no trouble. Amine went on
shore with Father Mathias; she refused the palanquin which had been
prepared for her, and walked up to the convent. They landed between
the Custom-house and the Viceroy's palace, passed through to the large
square behind it, and then went up the Strada Diretta, or Straight
Street, which led up to the Church of Pity, near to which the convent
is situated. This street is the finest on Goa, and is called Strada
Diretta, from the singular fact that almost all the streets in Goa are
quadrants or segments of circles. Amine was astonished: the houses
were of stone, lofty and massive; at each story was thrown out a
balcony of marble, elaborately carved; and over each door were the
arms of the nobility, or hidalgos, to whom the houses belonged. The
square behind the palace, and the wide streets, were filled with
living beings; elephants with gorgeous trappings; led or mounted
horses in superb housings; palanquins, carried by natives in splendid
liveries; running footmen; syces; every variety of nation, from the