Millicent's mind, had very long been evident, though it suited her purpose to appear ignorant of it; "one of your own countrymen probably must have more influence, very naturally, upon you than any other; but there are thousands, and tens of thousands, more holy than he, who would not scruple to spill their life-blood in devotion to her cause."

"I am sure there are," said Millicent; "O that I were like them, that I knew somewhat of that holy demeanor which they possess. There is nothing I would not do to obtain peace of mind: I am—yes, I am truly wretched."

"And have you never spoken to a priest of your church, my daughter? Why do you not think of asking advice of one who professes to cure diseases of the soul?" said the wily Allegra.

"There is no Protestant clergyman here I have any wish to see," answered Millicent; "and I utterly detest the Protestant religion."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the sister Allegra,

"and

apparently in very great surprise ; what, my daughter, has caused this sudden transition in your mind? you once loved it, did you not?"

"O never, never," said Millicent; " and I have often serious, very serious thoughts of changing my religion, if change it can be called, when in reality I never have been a true Protestant. I have but one wish, and, if that might be gratified, I would leave the world, I am sure I would, in peace; and the longer I live, the more I feel that there is nothing worth living for."

"And what is that wish," said the sister Allegra; "you know there is not a thought of your heart you may not safely reveal to me."

"I know that," said Millicent; "but I fear, I fear you may think it foolish, that you will think it childish-wrong,”—and she hesitated, and appeared much confused.

"Nay, that cannot be; it is too late," said the artful Allegra, "to endeavour to convince me that you can do aught, or wish aught, that partakes of either quality you have mentioned."

"Can you intercede for me with my sister, that I may see you again ?—will you not, can you not, write to her ?" said Millicent.

"That is what I cannot, may not granta pleasure which is denied me.

No; Allegra holds no converse with the world beyond these walls all is sealed to her, and for ever.

:

Death alone can dissolve the bands by which I am bound to this house. I wish that I could oblige you; but my honour, my will, my inclination, all stand pledged to prevent it: the solemn vow is upon me, and I dare not, even for a moment, in idea, glance beyond the portal which shuts me out from what, wretch that I was! I once loved, but what now scarcely ever passes across my thoughts; for which the holy Mother be praised. think not of human intercession,-think of those holy intercessors of whom Verschoyle spoke to us on that night when you were so cruelly snatched from us. And all these might be yours-yes, your advocates near the throne of God, together with her who is the Queen of heaven, if you would only follow the dictates of your conscience-if you

But

would only unite yourself to that church who yearns over you with the tender affection of a mother."

"And perhaps some opportunity may be given me so to do; but now I must yield to my fate, and be reconciled never more to behold you; for I am sure my relations will forbid my return to you," said Millicent.

"There can but one thing avert their designs-but one, and that is wholly in your own power. If you were a professed member of the only true church, they would no longer molest you; it is only now you are wavering between two opinions that they anxiously wish to retain-yes, I tremble while I think of it-to sacrifice your soul for ever."

Still the sister had not touched the most powerful chord: she had advisedly reserved this. "And Verschoyle," she at length added; "what will Verschoyle feel, when he knows you are lost for ever,—that the soul, for which he has passed days and nights in prayer, is about to be stamped with the seal of heresy, of perdition, for ever?"

At the name of Verschoyle, Millicent

sighed deeply. The sister Allegra saw her power, and availed herself of it.

"I doubt not," said she, "but that, had you been both still of the world, one in sentiment on every subject, the case would have been different. He has thought alone of your conversion to our most holy religion; and sure I am, that if at this moment his life could purchase your redemption from Protestantism, that would not be wanting."

"Then surely, if such are Verschoyle's ideas, I must be very, very wrong in remaining a Protestant. I value his opinion greatly," continued Millicent, scarcely knowing what she said; "but how can I declare my opinions? How ought I to act?"

"So as to pass eternity with those, from whom, in time, you are separated," answered the sister.

"I do not comprehend you," said Milli

cent.

"It is not for me to give advice unsolicited," said the sister Allegra.

"O do not wait for that," rejoined Millicent: "I would give worlds to be of your