Most fervently, did the signora join in the wish of her friend; and that day the abbess determined to acquaint Isabel with the passion of Alberto.

"We may soon, my child (cried she), expect to hear from your guardian. Isabel sighed. Tell me Isabel the cause of that sigh," continued the abbess.

A crimson glow suffused the cheek of the lovely orphan, but for some moments she could not speak, at last she timidly replied, "indeed I know not, dearest mother, how to account for my wayward heart; I love our sisters, I love you: ah! heaven knows how truly the poor orphan, fostered by your bounty, returns the affection you have always shewn her: yet, when I think of making a solemn, and irrevocable vow, never to pass these walls, my breast is filled with anguish, and my eyes with tears."

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Remember, my dearest Isabel, those lessons of piety and resignation

which you so early shewed a disposition to imbibe (cried her maternal friend); anguish and despondency, my child, ought to arise only from a consciousness of guilt, and from that consciousness the heart of my Isabel will, I trust, be always free. Mistake me not so far as to suppose I wish to influence your choice, if a choice was indeed allowed you; I wish only to fortify your mind, to enable you to submit with cheerfulness to what may be unavoidable; but on the contrary, should the Signor Valdorno consent to your quitting us, most willing shall I forego, for your happiness, that pleasure which your society has for years afforded me."

Isabel's tears bore testimony to her sense of the holy mother's kindness, and she cast herself, weeping, into her

arms.

"Oh! (sobbed she) how is it pos sible for me to repine, when I think that my future days are to be spent with you? pity and forgive your Isabel,

who will conquer this weakness, of which she is indeed ashamed."

The abbess pressed her to her bosom.

"Thou hast no cause for shame, my dear and innocent girl (cried she), I know not whether I ought to inform you, and yet my word is pledged to do so; there is a chance, that if motives of prudence alone influence the Signor Valdorno in destining you to a mʊnastic life, you may escape the veil.

"Alberto Sforza," she paused, and a glance at Isabel betrayed to her penetrating eye the reason of that reluctance which her young friend had expressed to a religious life: the heart of Isabel had unconsciously imbibed a passion for Alberto; treated by him as a beloved sister, she never suspected that her regard was different to what she would have felt for a brother; but this mention of his name gave birth to a thousand hopes and wishes that she had never hitherto dared to in

dulge, and her secret was for the first time known to herself.

.

The abbess (without seeming to notice her confusion) continued —“ Al berto Sforza loves you." The blood rushed tumultuously into the fair face and neck of Isabel, while in low, but delighted accents, she exclaimed, "good Heavens is it possible?" "His passion I perceive is not displeasing to you (said the abbess), but this, dear Isabel, is a subject on which you must not indulge too much hope; recollect the power which the Signor Valdorno possesses, and remember that we know not how he may exert it." The flush of hope and exultation gave place to a deadly paleness, but Isabel continued,

silent.

"On your prudence, my beloved child (said the lady abbess), Signora Sforza and myself rely; Alberto has received from his mother permission to open to you his heart, but my Isabet must not let him see her's; if he is

once assured of being beloved; reason and prudence will plead in vain, and should Valdorno refuse his consent, we shall have, from the impetuosity of Alberto, much to fear; remember then dear Isabel, that on your guardian's decision every thing must depend.”

Isabel promised an implicit compli ance with the wishes of her friend, and the lady abbess left her to her own reflections; she could not for some time arrange her thoughts. Alberto's passion, his mother's goodness in sanctioning it, and the strong probability, which to her appeared almost a certainty, that her guardian would rejoice in such an offer for her, formed altogether such a picture of enchanting, unhoped for happiness, that she could scarcely believe it real, and it was not till tears relieved her full heart, that she became sufficiently calm to pour out her whole soul in prayer before the throne of grace. Though educated in a convent, the piety of Isabel was free from supersti