word. Donna Sophia appeared to come very unwillingly. As soon as
she had taken her seat by the confessional chair, she made a confession
of a hundred little nothings, and having finished her catalogue, stopped
as if waiting for absolution.

"Have you made no reservation?" inquired I, in the low muttering tone
which is used at the confessional; for although neither party can
distinguish the person of the other, I did not wish her to recognise my
voice.

"Every thing," replied she, in a faint whisper.

"My daughter," replied I, "by your trembling answer, I know that you
are deceiving yourself and me. I am an old man, and have been too many
years in this chair, not to ascertain by the answers which I receive,
whether the conscience is unloaded. Yours, I am convinced, has something
pressing heavily upon it; something for which you would fain have
absolution, but which you are ashamed to reveal. If not a principal, you
have been a party to crime; and never shall you have absolution until
you have made a full confession." Her heart swelled with emotion, she
attempted to speak, and burst into tears. "These are harbingers of
good," observed I; "I am now convinced that my supposition was correct:
pour out your soul in tribulation, and receive that comfort which I am
empowered to bestow. 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 fit