athedral, and they concealed themselves
behind the Statue of St. Francis.

'And now,' said our Hero, 'may I take the liberty of asking, what is
the meaning of all this haste and rapture?'

'Oh! Lorenzo, we shall see such a glorious sight! The Prioress of St.
Clare and her whole train of Nuns are coming hither. You are to know,
that the pious Father Ambrosio (The Lord reward him for it!) will upon
no account move out of his own precincts: It being absolutely
necessary for every fashionable Convent to have him for its Confessor,
the Nuns are in consequence obliged to visit him at the Abbey; since
when the Mountain will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs go to
the Mountain. Now the Prioress of St. Clare, the better to escape the
gaze of such impure eyes as belong to yourself and your humble Servant,
thinks proper to bring her holy flock to confession in the Dusk: She is
to be admitted into the Abbey Chapel by yon private door. The
Porteress of St. Clare, who is a worthy old Soul and a particular
Friend of mine, has just assured me of their being here in a few
moments. There is news for you, you Rogue! We shall see some of the
prettiest faces in Madrid!'

'In truth, Christoval, we shall do no such thing. The Nuns are always
veiled.'

'No! No! I know better. On entering a place of worship, they ever
take off their veils from respect to the Saint to whom 'tis dedicated.
But Hark! They are coming! Silence, silence! Observe, and be
convinced.'

'Good!' said Lorenzo to himself; 'I may possibly discover to whom the
vows are addressed of this mysterious Stranger.'

Scarcely had Don Christoval ceased to speak, when the Domina of St.
Clare appeared, followed by a long procession of Nuns. Each upon
entering the Church took off her veil. The Prioress crossed her hands
upon her bosom, and made a profound reverence as She passed the Statue
of St. Francis, the Patron of this Cathedral. The Nuns followed her
example, and several moved onwards without having satisfied Lorenzo's
curiosity. He almost began to despair of seeing the mystery cleared
up, when in paying her respects to St. Francis, one of the Nuns
happened to drop her Rosary. As She stooped to pick it up, the light
flashed full upon her face. At the same moment She dexterously removed
the letter from beneath the Image, placed it in her bosom, and hastened
to resume her rank in the procession.

'Ha!' said Christoval in a low voice; 'Here we have som