so willing a votary as myself. I have
since been peaceful, if not happy."

"And now, Marie, you shall be happy," cried I, stretching out my arms to
her. "Come to me, I will explain my motives for leaving Marseilles, and
what my future intentions were, if they had not been frustrated by
unforeseen events. All shall yet be well."

"Francois, all is well. I have taken a solemn vow--it is registered in
Heaven. You have by fraud and imposition entered into a holy place, and
assumed a holy character. Add not to your crime by even harbouring the
idea of impropriety, and add not to my humiliation by supposing for a
moment that I am capable of being a participator.

"Holy Virgin," cried she, falling on her knees, "I demand thy powerful
aid in this conflict of worldly passions and holy wishes. Oh! make me
dead to all but thee, and to the spouse whom I have accepted at thy
hands."

She then rose, and continued--"How you will be able to leave this
convent, Francois, I know not; but your secret is safe with me, provided
that you do not again request my presence, as you have this night. My
prayers shall ever be for you; but we must meet no more!" and Marie
waved her hand mournfully, and quitted the apartment.

Although I had always a great contempt for the Catholic religion, of
which I at that period was a member, I was awed by the beauty of virtue
as it appeared in Marie, and I passed the night in melancholy
reflections. I felt more love for her than ever, and determined upon
persuading her to quit the convent and become my wife. The next morning
I sent for her.

"Marie, you gave yourself to heaven, when you imagined that you had no
tie upon earth. You were deceived; there was one whom you still loved,
and who still adored you. Vows made in delusion are not registered.
Leave this convent with me, become my wife, and you will do your duty
better towards heaven than by pining between these walls, which contain
nothing but envy, hatred, and remorse."

"Francois, you have had my answer. What has been done, cannot be
undone. Save yourself, and leave me to my unhappy fate," answered
Marie: then bursting into tears, "O Francois, why, why did you leave me
without one word? Had you but pointed out your danger to me, I should
have been the first to have insisted upon your absence, and all, all
would have been borne with patience, if not with pleasure, for your
sake. If what you now say is truth, all would have been we