ay, few efforts seemed to be
made for the discovery of the stranger except by myself; and all that
I did towards that end was unsuccessful. The murderer of my father,
the spoiler of my inheritance, the vile insulter of the woman I loved,
had for this time eluded my vengeance.

About a fortnight after the fete, it became publicly rumoured that any
project of marriage which might have been contemplated by General
Gutzkoff between his daughter and her cousin, was at an end, and that
Natalie was to take the veil. It was known that, before the death of
the late countess, who was an exceedingly religious woman, it had been
in agitation to devote Natalie to a religious life; but when the
general became a widower, nothing more had been heard of the plan. It
now almost seemed as if its revival and contemplated execution were
in some way consequent on the strange incident at the ball. The
matter, however, was far too delicate for any one to question
concerning it those who alone could have given information. At the
appointed time Natalie entered as novice a convent of Ursulines,
situated at about a league from her father's villa.

The first news of this event was a terrible shock to me. In spite of
the small favour with which the general regarded my attachment to his
daughter, I had still hoped that time or circumstances might bring
about some change in his sentiments. But the cloister opposed a yet
stronger bar to my wishes than the will of a parent, and the vows once
pronounced, which at the end of one short year Natalie would have to
utter, I might bid farewell to hope. Our separation would then be
irrevocable and eternal in this world. It was necessary, therefore, to
make the best use of the short space of her noviciate, in order to put
in execution one of the numerous plans which I devised for freeing her
from the state of holy bondage which I was certain she had only
through compulsion been induced to enter. Day and night I hovered
about the convent, in hopes of catching a glimpse of Natalie, or of
finding an opportunity of giving her a letter, in which I strenuously
urged her to accept a plan of escape that I proposed to her. At last
an opportunity occurred. She was walking in the convent garden with
another novice, who left her for an instant to gather some flowers. I
was watching all their movements, and at this moment I threw my letter
at Natalie's feet. She took it up, retired into a shrubbery walk to
read it, and pr