pon her knees, a partly-concealed door, which
led towards the monastery, and was almost in disuse, slowly opened, and
a figure, enveloped in a monk's robe and cowl, entered the room.

Magdalena was not at first aware of the entrance of the stranger; and it
was only when, after looking about the room, as if to assure himself
that no one was there, he approached the table, that she heard the
footstep, and lifted up her head in surprise. The intruder evidently as
little expected to find the room already tenanted; for he also started
upon seeing the kneeling woman. But the astonishment of both parties was
greatly increased when their eyes met each other. Far from attempting to
rise from her knees, Magdalena remained in an attitude of supplication
before the stranger, who was an aged man of mild aspect, and folding her
arms across her heart, bent down her head like a penitent, in order to
avoid his scrutinizing look.

"Magdalena! thou here!" said the seeming monk, in a tone of voice which,
naturally that of benevolence, he evidently strove to render harsh and
severe. "How comes this? Thou hast left, without my knowledge, the
seclusion of the convent in which I placed thee? In defiance of thy
solemn promise, and thy accepted vow of penitence, thou hast approached
this town--thou hast sought, perhaps, forgetful of thy oath"----

"No, no," interrupted the agitated woman, "that cruel oath has sealed
my lips for ever. God knows, and you, reverend father--you know, that I
had accepted the bitterest trial woman can bear on earth, in expiation
of my past sin. Long did I observe my vow of penitence without a murmur
to heaven or to you. But I thought to die. A fever had seized me, and a
burning thought came over me that I no longer could withstand. O God,
forgive me--but my head was turned--I knew not what I did! I longed to
see once more on earth that object that was my only earthly joy. That
uncontrollable desire overcame the stubborn resolution of a vow, which
long years of tears and mortification had striven to fortify in vain. I
fled. I hoped once more to glad my eyes--but once----but once, my
father, and then to lay me down and die, trusting in God's pardon and
your reverence's." And Magdalena bowed her head to the ground, as a
criminal awaiting her sentence.

"Thou hast erred, woman--bitterly and grievously," replied the stranger
harshly, adding, however, with a feeling of indulgence that his kindly
nature evidently could il