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pondered over all he said until she knew every word by heart. She was deeply moved; and doubly irksome, that day, were the duties she had to perform-the ceremonials to observe. She wanted to be alone, to think.

And now the wished-for moment has arrived; vespers and complin are over; and the weary actors of the daily scene have retired to their respective cells. Rosamond was at length alone,—a luxury not extended to many; but, as visitor or boarder, she was permitted, on payment of a certain sum, to absent herself from the public dormitory, and occupy a solitary cell. Here, from the complin, or last service at night, to that of matins, she might enjoy repose; and this brief period of a very few hours was to her harassed mind one of unspeakable relief. The cell allotted to her was in the angle next the river, and from the little window she could see the woods upon the opposite hills. She had risen from the hard, low pallet that served her as a bed, and thanks to the vigilance and industry of Joan, who had provided her with the means, she had

lighted a small iron lamp, which she placed upon the only table she possessed ;—this, with a praying-chair, and a wooden stool, formed her whole stock of furniture. But it was not for luxuries that her young heart pined, she thought only of her own old home; and, kneeling before the narrow grating, she turned her face towards the hills whence she had come, and prayed fervently and long for her father. different was that heartfelt prayer from the cold words in a foreign tongue, daily extorted from her, and she felt, in her childish heart, that there was a difference, although she did not analyse the cause.

Far

As she knelt before the window, the bright light of a summer moon shone directly upon her; and her marvellous beauty, which the dress of the novice so much concealed, was perfectly given to view. Though yet in extreme youth, her figure gave all the promise of that perfection it afterwards fully attained. Kneeling on the low chair in her cell, the loose white robe, which was her only garment, showed all the beauty of her arms and neck, her head, slightly thrown back

as she lifted her eyes to heaven, displayed the beautiful contour of her throat and face; while the long masses of her rich chesnut hair fell upon the little bare feet which, freed from their sandals, gleamed white as snow upon the dark stone floor. The features of Rosamond were perfectly regular, but slightly aquiline; her eyes, of a bright, though very deep, blue, were long and full, with eyelashes somewhat darker than her hair; the eyebrow was broad and rather straight, which gave more power and expression to her countenance than generally belongs to the dazzling fairness she possessed. With all this regularity of beauty, the expression of her face was good; though the colour which so rapidly went and came, and a slight degree of hauteur in the turn of her throat and head, bespoke a somewhat ardent spirit, and one that might be more easily led than controlled. This expression was, however, but casual,-for sweetness and gentleness beamed from those dovelike eyes; and when she smiled, every feature smiled, and the heart that looked upon her face felt glad.

It seemed that malice itself could not injure a creature so lovely and loving as Rosamond; and yet this very perfection had already drawn upon her its natural result the envy and hatred of her own sex. Daily and hourly she felt it in the petty annoyances caused by the ill-will of the lady abbess who, therefore, could marvel at the natural desire of this full-grown child to be freed from such control? Tears were upon her cheek as she lifted her voice to heaven; and as the pitying moonbeams rested on her cell, they seemed to smile down upon so much innocence and love. Having concluded her prayer, Rosamond laid herself down to rest. The moon gradually withdrew her beams, and the fading lamp dimly showed the sleeping girl;-her long hair fell round her like a veil, and one small hand held back its glorious tresses, while the other supported her head. She slept; the hour of midnight chimed slowly on the air, then all was still.

Sleep, Rosamond!-sleep, happy child! happy even in thy grief, for thou knowest not a greater. Sleep on!-it is thy last

night of peace within thy lonely cell. Once

again thou shalt revisit its walls.

again; but how? . . .

Once

Once again

shalt thou hear that chime;-but when?

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