one of mature and somewhat advanced years; the
other, in the flower of virgin youth. But the flower was prematurely
faded; and neither the bloom, nor sparkle, nor undulating play of
feature, that should have suited her age, was visible in the marble
paleness and contemplative sadness of her beautiful countenance.

"Alas! my young friend," said the elder of these ladies, "it is in these
hours of solitude and calm that we are most deeply impressed with the
nothingness of life. Thou, my sweet convert, art now the object, no
longer of my compassion, but my envy; and earnestly do I feel convinced
of the blessed repose thy spirit will enjoy in the lap of the Mother
Church. Happy are they who die young! but thrice happy they who die in
the spirit rather than the flesh: dead to sin, but not to virtue; to
terror, not to hope; to man, but not to God!"

"Dear senora," replied the young maiden, mournfully, "were I alone on
earth, Heaven is my witness with what deep and thankful resignation I
should take the holy vows, and forswear the past; but the heart remains
human, however divine the hope that it may cherish. And sometimes
I start, and think of home, of childhood, of my strange but beloved
father, deserted and childless in his old age."

"Thine, Leila," returned the elder Senora, "are but the sorrows our
nature is doomed to. What matter, whether absence or death sever the
affections? Thou lamentest a father; I, a son, dead in the pride of his
youth and beauty--a husband, languishing in the fetters of the Moor.
Take comfort for thy sorrows, in the reflection that sorrow is the
heritage of all."

Ere Leila could reply, the orange-boughs that sheltered the spot where
they sat were put aside, and between the women and the fountain stood
the dark form of Almamen the Israelite. Leila rose, shrieked, and flung
herself, unconscious, on his breast.

"O Lord of Israel!" cried Almamen, in atone of deep anguish. "I, then,
at last regain my child? Do I press her to my heart? and is it only
for that brief moment, when I stand upon the brink of death? Leila, my
child, look up! smile upon thy father; let him feel, on his maddening
and burning brow, the sweet breath of the last of his race, and bear
with him, at least, one holy and gentle thought to the dark grave."

"My father! is it indeed my father?" said Leila, recovering herself, and
drawing back, that she might assure herself of that familiar face; "it
is thou! it is--it is! Oh! wha