ew that she could not last for many years. On the
contrary, I was anxious, if possible, to have the niece removed, as it
was supposed that she would inherit the old lady's doubloons; but this
required time and opportunity, and, in the mean while, I assiduously
cultivated the old lady's good graces. She used to confess once a week;
and I often observed that she acknowledged as a sin, thinking too much
of one who had led her from her duty in former days, and for whom she
still felt too much worldly passion. One evening when the clock had
struck ten, we had laid down the cards, which we occasionally played, it
being the day and her usual hour for confessing. Again she repeated the
same offence, and I then delicately hinted, that she might be more at
ease if she were to confide to me the circumstances connected with her
compunctions. She hesitated; but on my pointing out to her that there
ought to be no reservation, and that the acknowledgment of the
compunction arising from a sin was not that of the sin itself, she
acquiesced. Her confession referred to her early days, when, attached to
a young cavalier, against the wishes of her parents, under a solemn
promise of marriage, she had consented to receive him into her chamber.
The intercourse continued for some time, when it was discovered. Her
lover had been waylaid and murdered by her relations, and she had been
thrown into a convent. There she had been confined, and the child
removed as soon as it was born: she had resisted all the force and
threats employed to induce her to take the veil; and at the death of
her father had been released and came into possession of her property,
of which they could not deprive her: that she made every endeavour to
find out to where her child had been removed, and at last discovered
that it had been sent to the Foundling Asylum; but this information was
not obtained until some years afterwards, and all the children sent
there at the period had been dispersed. Never having married, her
thoughts would revert to the scenes which had taken place with her
adored Felix, although years had rolled away, and she felt that she was
wrong to dwell upon what in itself had been so criminal.

I listened to her story with great interest, for the idea occurred to
me, that I might be the unfortunate offspring of their loves, and if
not, that in all probability the old lady might be induced so to
believe. I inquired whether her child had any marks by which he