o confess to the Abbot Ambrosio. As he waited he observed a man
wrapped up in a cloak hurriedly place a letter beneath a statue of St.
Francis, and then retire.

The nuns entered, and removed their veils out of respect to the saint to
whom the building was dedicated. One of the nuns dropped her rosary
beside the statue, and, as she stooped to pick it up, she dexterously
removed the letter and placed it in her bosom. As she did so, the light
flashed full in her face.

"Agnes, by Heaven!" cried Lorenzo.

He hastened after the cloaked stranger, and overtook him with drawn
sword. Suddenly the cloaked man turned and exclaimed, "Is it possible?
Lorenzo, have you forgotten Raymond de las Cisternas?"

"You here, marquis?" said the astonished Lorenzo. "You engaged in a
clandestine correspondence with my sister?"

"Her affections have ever been mine, and not the Church's. She entered
the convent tricked into a belief that I had been false to her; but I
have proved to her that it is otherwise. She had agreed to fly with me,
and my uncle, the cardinal, is securing for her a dispensation from her
vows."

Raymond told at length the story of his love, and at the end Lorenzo
said, "Raymond, there is no one on whom I would bestow Agnes more
willingly than on yourself. Pursue your design, and I will accompany
you."

Meanwhile, Agnes tremblingly advanced toward the abbot, and in her
nervousness let fall the precious letter. She turned to pick it up. The
abbot claimed and read it; it was the proposal of Agnes's escape with
her lover that very night.

"This letter must to the prioress!" said he sternly.

"Hold father, hold!" cried Agnes, flinging herself at his feet. "Be
merciful! Do not doom me to destruction!"

"Hence, unworthy wretch! Where is the prioress?"

The prioress, when she came, gazed upon Agnes with fury. "Away with her
to the convent!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, Raymond, save me, save me!" shrieked the distracted Agnes. Then,
casting upon the abbot a frantic look, "Hear me," she continued, "man of
a hard heart! Insolent in your yet unshaken virtue, your day of trial
will arrive. Think then upon your cruelty; and despair of pardon!"

_II.--The Abbot's Infatuation_

Leaving the church, Ambrosio bent his steps towards a grotto in the
abbey garden, formed in imitation of a hermitage. On reaching the
grotto, he found it already occupied. Extended upon one of the seats,
lay a man in a melancholy posture, lost in medi