sy to dispose of them, since the Spaniards hold the performances
of the Nuns in high estimation. Having received these gifts with
seeming respect and gratitude, He remarked that, having no Basket, He
knew not how to convey them away. Several of the Nuns were hastening
in search of one, when they were stopped by the return of an elderly
Woman, whom Theodore had not till then observed: Her mild countenance,
and respectable air prejudiced him immediately in her favour.

'Hah!' said the Porteress; 'Here comes the Mother St. Ursula with a
Basket.'

The Nun approached the Grate, and presented the Basket to Theodore: It
was of willow, lined with blue satin, and upon the four sides were
painted scenes from the legend of St. Genevieve.

'Here is my gift,' said She, as She gave it into his hand; 'Good Youth,
despise it not; Though its value seems insignificant, it has many
hidden virtues.'

She accompanied these words with an expressive look. It was not lost
upon Theodore; In receiving the present, He drew as near the Grate as
possible.

'Agnes!' She whispered in a voice scarcely intelligible. Theodore,
however, caught the sound: He concluded that some mystery was
concealed in the Basket, and his heart beat with impatience and joy.
At this moment the Domina returned. Her air was gloomy and frowning,
and She looked if possible more stern than ever.

'Mother St. Ursula, I would speak with you in private.'

The Nun changed colour, and was evidently disconcerted.

'With me?' She replied in a faltering voice.

The Domina motioned that She must follow her, and retired. The Mother
St. Ursula obeyed her; Soon after, the Refectory Bell ringing a second
time, the Nuns quitted the Grate, and Theodore was left at liberty to
carry off his prize. Delighted that at length He had obtained some
intelligence for the Marquis, He flew rather than ran, till He reached
the Hotel de las Cisternas. In a few minutes He stood by his Master's
Bed with the Basket in his hand. Lorenzo was in the chamber,
endeavouring to reconcile his Friend to a misfortune which He felt
himself but too severely. Theodore related his adventure, and the hopes
which had been created by the Mother St. Ursula's gift. The Marquis
started from his pillow: That fire which since the death of Agnes had
been extinguished, now revived in his bosom, and his eyes sparkled with
the eagerness of expectation. The emotions which Lorenzo's countenance
betrayed, were scar