could, she did revise the past; she could dwell with regret on the early deeds of sin, and caution the gay and unthinking against each lapse of error; but she paused not there-she courted the allevi ating balm of confession, and implored, with meek humility, the prayers of the sisters. Every wish complied with, every fear silenced, the cell cleared, and the priest admitted, long and unbroken was the sacred conference; no sin was left untold, no mystery unravelled. The heart lightened, the mind at ease, grasp ing at the absolving cup of salvation, the contrite, the dying Laurette, in the for giving spirit of true piety, blessed e'en the author of her guilt, and pronounced the balm of universal pardon.

Again surrounded by the sisters, again supported by the arm of Louisine, the feeble

feeble glare of the taper dissolving the midnight gloom, and the deep and measured sob of grief mocking e'en the boasted strength of endurance, the nun Laurette betrayed no start of frenzy, breathed no expression of fear; she was placid, she was composed, she was quickly stealing from life to death; and as a calm succeeds a storm, so did humility and meek submission soften the rugged outline of harsh discordant passion. Night waned away, and morning, faintly blushing, eclipsed the taper's glare. The nun raised her heavy eyes, she fixed them on the dappled dawn of day; she saw the level rays of glory pierce the eastern hemisphere, and heard the mountain lark his early tribute pay. A smile marked the expression of her features-she raised her clasped hands-she whispered, "Mer

cy!"

cy!" It was a dying effort; that mercy lingered in a sigh, and that sigh was the last struggle of existence.

CHAP. III.

Fate is in thy face,

And threatens ere thou speak'st.

....

As the morning steals upon the night,

Melting the darkness, so his rising senses

DRYDEN

Begin to chase the ign'rant fumes, that mantl'd

His clear reason.

SHAKESPEARE.

Nor for one moment relaxed the persevering exertions of Theodore; neither, when within the gloomy walls of Vermandois, did he suffer fatigue to stay the steps of duty. He flew to his imagined father, he started at his pallid cheek, at his heavy eye; for lassitude still preyed

upon

upon the spirits of Montauban, and memory, awakened by the mysterious visitation of the monk, could in opposition offer no emollient. He smiled on the assiduous attentions of the youth, and listened to the report of Louisine's safety, with a sensation bordering on pleasure"Did you," he exclaimed, grasping the hand of Theodore, generous, disinterested boy did you, for my comfort, forego the cause of love, and abandon to a rival's power the hopes and happiness of Juliette ?"

Theodore shuddered, Theodore clung to the supporting wall; he seemed to labour with his feelings, he seemed al-, most subdued with the weight of anguish; he drew from his bosom the writ ten document of his power; his handa trembled, yet did he extend it towards.

the bandit" I have performed my duty,"

he at length faltered, vainly struggling to suppress his agitation; "Nature held the first claim upon my heart, and love yielded to her decision."

66

Keep it," said Montauban; and suddenly yielding to a new softness of feeling, his arms were extended, and he clasped, in the ardour of fresh-awakened affection, the astonished Theodore

"How can I recompense this sacrifice ?” he asked. 86 Strange, wonderful being! how can I reward this heroic flight of virtue ?"

"By renouncing the shackles of sin," eagerly replied Theodore ; " by courting peace in the exercise of duty. Father, give me but one blessed intimation of repentance, and my reward is complete." Montauban, after a long pause of

thought,