. Courage, my daughter! the best of us
are but grievous sinners." As soon as she could check her sobbing, she
commenced her confession; narrating her penchant for me, her subsequent
attachment to the young officer, my abuse of him, and the punishment
which had ensued--his desertion, the introduction of Don Pedro, her
pique at having instigated him to kill her lover, his death, and all
that I have narrated to your highness.

"These are serious crimes, my daughter! grievous indeed; you have
yielded to the tempter in your own person, caused the death of one man,
you have led another astray, and have deceived him, when he claimed the
reward of his iniquity; but all these are trifles compared to the
offence upon the holy monk, which is the worst of sacrilege. And what
was his fault? that he cautioned you against a person, whose subsequent
conduct has proved, that the worthy man was correct in his suppositions.

"In every way you have offended Heaven; a whole life will be scarce
sufficient for the task of repentance, laying aside the enormous crime
of sacrilege, which, in justice, ought to be referred to the
inquisition. Excommunication is more fitting in your case than
absolution." I waited some time before I again spoke, during which she
sobbed bitterly. "My daughter," observed I, "before I can decide upon
what is to be done to save you from everlasting perdition, it is
necessary that you humble yourself before the religious man, whose
person you have abused. Send to the convent to which he belongs, and
entreat him to come; and when you have confessed your crime, offer to
him the same implements of punishment, which through your instigation
were so sacrilegiously applied. Submit to his sentence, and the penance
which he may prescribe. When you have done that, repair again to me. I
shall be in this chair the day after to-morrow."

The girl muffled up her face, waited a few minutes to compose herself,
and then returned to her mother, who wondered what could have detained
her so long.

That evening, I received a note from Donna Sophia, requesting me to call
on the ensuing day. I found her in her room, she had been weeping
bitterly, and when I entered coloured up with shame and vexation; but
she had been too much frightened on the day before, to resist the
injunctions which she had received: a large bundle of nettles lay on the
chair; and when I entered she turned the key of the door, and falling
down on her knee