tleman of inferior fortune,
and her father, as I have heard, bestowing her on a nobleman, whom
she disliked, an ill-governed passion proved her destruction.--Every
obligation of virtue and of duty was forgotten, and she prophaned her
marriage vows; but her guilt was soon detected, and she would have
fallen a sacrifice to the vengeance of her husband, had not her father
contrived to convey her from his power. By what means he did this,
I never could learn; but he secreted her in this convent, where he
afterwards prevailed with her to take the veil, while a report was
circulated in the world, that she was dead, and the father, to save his
daughter, assisted the rumour, and employed such means as induced her
husband to believe she had become a victim to his jealousy. You look
surprised,' added the nun, observing Emily's countenance; 'I allow the
story is uncommon, but not, I believe, without a parallel.'

'Pray proceed,' said Emily, 'I am interested.'

'The story is already told,' resumed the nun, 'I have only to mention,
that the long struggle, which Agnes suffered, between love, remorse
and a sense of the duties she had taken upon herself in becoming of our
order, at length unsettled her reason. At first, she was frantic and
melancholy by quick alternatives; then, she sunk into a deep and settled
melancholy, which still, however, has, at times, been interrupted by
fits of wildness, and, of late, these have again been frequent.'

Emily was affected by the history of the sister, some parts of whose
story brought to her remembrance that of the Marchioness de Villeroi,
who had also been compelled by her father to forsake the object of her
affections, for a nobleman of his choice; but, from what Dorothee had
related, there appeared no reason to suppose, that she had escaped the
vengeance of a jealous husband, or to doubt for a moment the innocence
of her conduct. But Emily, while she sighed over the misery of the
nun, could not forbear shedding a few tears to the misfortunes of the
Marchioness; and, when she returned to the mention of sister Agnes, she
asked Frances if she remembered her in her youth, and whether she was
then beautiful.

'I was not here at the time, when she took the vows,' replied Frances,
'which is so long ago, that few of the present sisterhood, I believe,
were witnesses of the ceremony; nay, ever our lady mother did not then
preside over the convent: but I can remember, when sister Agnes was a
very be