astic
account of the dark orbs of the Creole girls, I think, the most
beautiful in the world; they are large, dark-blue and loving, and when
she looks up at you, even if you are the most wicked man in the world,
it will calm your thoughts and make you still and quiet. Dear reader,
imagine Ellen very beautiful, and take my word for it that your fancy
will not deceive you. Ellen and I resumed our former friendship almost
immediately, and after dinner we walked into the garden to talk over
auld lang syne.

"Do you remember, Ellen," said I, "how we both cried when I bade you
good-bye?"

"Did _I_?" asked Ellen, mischievously.

"Yes, you little sinner, much more than I did, because I was fourteen
and had the dignity of manhood to support."

"Well," said Ellen, "I think I do remember something about it."

"Is it possible! and does your memory serve you still farther; you
said that if I would ever come to see you, you would never refuse to
kiss me again."

"Why, Frank Byrne, what a fertile invention you have got."

"Not so," I replied, "only an excellent memory, come, now, own the
truth, didn't you promise me so?"

"But, Frank, I was a little girl then, and my contracts were not valid
you know; however, if--"

"If what?" demanded I, perceiving that she blushed and hesitated.

"Why, if _you_ wish to kiss _me_, I don't know that I should object a
great deal."

Of course I did no such thing.

"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish;
where did you learn to be?"

"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."

"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."

"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately
at my abstracted look.

"At what convent?" I asked.

"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival,
and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha,
father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better
than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."

I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the
reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her
the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The
tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished.
"Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.

"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not
break her vow."

"Yes she will