Violent were the emotions of sister Laurette, as Louisine recited the little tale of her sorrows; but when she heard, that even at the altar's foot, the discovered miniature of her mother had changed pretended passion into insatiate rage and dire revenge, conviction seemed to press upon her mind, and freeze the vital current at her heart. Long, with statuelike apathy, did she stand, unmoved by importunity or remonstrance; her features marbled as though in death, lost to the transient flush of animation; and when thought and exertion returned, her first demand was to behold the picture-her first effort to extend her hand to receive it- Lead me to the confessional," she again implored; " this is no ideal vision-this is no sudden start of fancy." Her eyes were fixed upon the little C 2 little image, and her whole form became convulsed-"Lead me to the confessional; be quick, or the power of repa ration will be lost; death will not tarry ; be quick, or injustice triumphs." 6.6 Sister, you waver," said Louisine, softly essaying to steal the miniature from sight; but the nun more firmly grasped it; and as she raised her skeleton hand to her burning forehead-"No, no," she quickly rejoined, "I do not waver; all is registered here; this is but the paint→ ed shadow of her I have wronged. Lead me to the confessional, and I will make reparation; I will blazon the tale of your injuries-I will bid our holy mother espouse the cause of the orphan. Fear not, wronged girl, you shall be avenged! The murderer shall be hurled from his seat; the murderer-Vermandois-your uncle uncle-the usurper of your rights-the destroyer of your parents. Louisine," panting, gasping for breath, "he, 'twas he, the serpent, who lured me into a gulph of sin so black, that all my former crimes were white, were spotless to it." She paused for a moment; then, with a hurried step, pressed forward. "Suffer me to support you," said Louisine, quickly pursuing. The nun took her offered arm; she forced a melancholy smile" True," she articulated, I am weak in body; strength copes not with resolution; debility and death presses hard; one little exertion, and all will be over. This night, this hour I go to the confessional; tomorrow may be too late." "Your spirits are hurried," said Louisine; "perhaps" "No, no," interrupted Laurette, still pressing forward. "Once, like the jarring elements, my heart was torn, was tossed by conflicting passions; once no comfort, no hope, no heavenly irradiation beamed upon my guilty mind; all was alike blank, desolate; but now, prayer has dissipated the gathering mists of despair, and opened the pass to mercy, through the benefit of repentance. Come on, my daughter, let us to the confessional." But momentary was the flash of strength, transient the effort of exertion; her limbs trembled; and ere she reached the extremity of the clois.ters, weakness compelled her to stop, and cling for support even to the feeble arm of Louisine. "You are ill, sister," softly observed Tarry in peace till the alarmed girl. to-morrow." "To "To-morrow!" interrupted the shuddering Laurette; "who knows upon whom to-morrow's sun may dawn?" and then, as though conscious of the short limitation of her existence, she again attempted to advance. It was long, and with many pauses, ere she reached the presence of the superior; but life, almost expired, yielded to the struggles of fortitude, and terrifying was the swoon which steeped her senses. Unresisting, borne as though already dead, she was conveyed to her cell; and when again animation and memory returned, her eyes sought out the weeping Louisine, and her lips articulated→→ Reparation." Gradual was the ap proach of dissolution; but though her limbs were cold and powerless, her mind lost not its strength and action. She could, c 4 |