sity, for your compassion of
an Unfortunate who is but too little deserving of it!'

She put her handkerchief to her eyes. Her Cowl was only half drawn
over her face. Ambrosio observed that She was pale, and her eyes sunk
and heavy.

'Good God!' He cried; 'You are very ill, Matilda! I shall send Father
Pablos to you instantly.'

'No; Do not. I am ill, 'tis true; But He cannot cure my malady.
Farewell, Father! Remember me in your prayers tomorrow, while I shall
remember you in heaven!'

She entered her cell, and closed the door.

The Abbot dispatched to her the Physician without losing a moment, and
waited his report impatiently. But Father Pablos soon returned, and
declared that his errand had been fruitless. Rosario refused to admit
him, and had positively rejected his offers of assistance. The
uneasiness which this account gave Ambrosio was not trifling: Yet He
determined that Matilda should have her own way for that night: But
that if her situation did not mend by the morning, he would insist upon
her taking the advice of Father Pablos.

He did not find himself inclined to sleep. He opened his casement, and
gazed upon the moonbeams as they played upon the small stream whose
waters bathed the walls of the Monastery. The coolness of the night
breeze and tranquillity of the hour inspired the Friar's mind with
sadness. He thought upon Matilda's beauty and affection; Upon the
pleasures which He might have shared with her, had He not been
restrained by monastic fetters. He reflected, that unsustained by hope
her love for him could not long exist; That doubtless She would succeed
in extinguishing her passion, and seek for happiness in the arms of One
more fortunate. He shuddered at the void which her absence would leave
in his bosom. He looked with disgust on the monotony of a Convent, and
breathed a sigh towards that world from which He was for ever
separated. Such were the reflections which a loud knocking at his door
interrupted. The Bell of the Church had already struck Two. The Abbot
hastened to enquire the cause of this disturbance. He opened the door
of his Cell, and a Lay-Brother entered, whose looks declared his hurry
and confusion.

'Hasten, reverend Father!' said He; 'Hasten to the young Rosario.

He earnestly requests to see you; He lies at the point of death.'

'Gracious God! Where is Father Pablos? Why is He not with him? Oh! I
fear! I fear!'

'Father Pablos has seen him, but h