that People of whom He was then the Idol。 Conscience painted to
him in glaring colours his perjury and weakness； Apprehension
magnified to him the horrors of punishment； and He already
fancied himself in the prisons of the Inquisition。 To these
tormenting ideas succeeded Matilda's beauty； and those delicious
lessons which； once learnt； can never be forgotten。 A single
glance thrown upon these reconciled him with himself。 He
considered the pleasures of the former night to have been
purchased at an easy price by the sacrifice of innocence and
honour。 Their very remembrance filled his soul with ecstacy； He
cursed his foolish vanity； which had induced him to waste in
obscurity the bloom of life； ignorant of the blessings of Love
and Woman。 He determined at all events to continue his commerce
with Matilda； and called every argument to his aid which might
confirm his resolution。 He asked himself； provided his
irregularity was unknown； in what would his fault consist； and
what consequences He had to apprehend？ By adhering strictly to
every rule of his order save Chastity； He doubted not to retain
the esteem of Men； and even the protection of heaven。 He trusted
easily to be forgiven so slight and natural a deviation from his
vows： But He forgot that having pronounced those vows；
Incontinence； in Laymen the most venial of errors； became in his
person the most heinous of crimes。
Once decided upon his future conduct； his mind became more easy。
He threw himself upon his bed； and strove by sleeping to recruit
his strength exhausted by his nocturnal excesses。 He awoke
refreshed； and eager for a repetition of his pleasures。 Obedient
to Matilda's order； He visited not her Cell during the day。
Father Pablos mentioned in the Refectory that Rosario had at
length been prevailed upon to follow his prescription； But that
the medicine had not produced the slightest effect； and that He
believed no mortal skill could rescue him from the Grave。 With
this opinion the Abbot agreed； and affected to lament the
untimely fate of a Youth； whose talents had appeared so
promising。
The night arrived。 Ambrosio had taken care to procure from the
Porter the Key of the low door opening into the Cemetery。
Furnished with this； when all was silent in the Monastery； He
quitted his Cell； and hastened to Matilda's。 She had left her
bed； and was drest before his arrival。
'I have been expecting you with impatience；' said She； 'My life
depends upon these moments。 Have you the Key？'
'I have。'
'Away then to the garden。 We have no time to lose。 Follow me！'
She took a small covered Basket from the Table。 Bearing this in
one hand； and the Lamp； which was flaming upon the Hearth； in the
other； She hastened from the Cell。 Ambrosio followed her。 Both
maintained a profound silence。 She moved on with quick but
cautious steps； passed through the Cloisters； and reached the
Western side of the Garden。 Her eyes flashed with a fire and
wildness which impressed the Monk at once with awe and horror。
A determined desperate courage reigned upon her brow。 She gave
the Lamp to Ambrosio； Then taking from him the Key； She unlocked
the low Door； and entered the Cemetery。 It was a vast and
spacious Square planted with yew trees： Half of it belonged to
the Abbey； The other half was the property of the Sisterhood of
St。 Clare； and was protected by a roof of Stone。 The Division
was marked by an iron railing； the wicket of which was generally
left unlocked。
Thither Matilda bent her course。 She opened the wicket and
sought for the door leading to the subterraneous Vaults； where
reposed the mouldering Bodies of the Votaries of St。 Clare。 The
night was perfectly dark； Neither Moon or Stars were visible。
Luckily there was not a breath of Wind； and the Friar bore his
Lamp in full security： By the assistance of its beams； the door
of the Sepulchre was soon discovered。 It was sunk within the
hollow of a wall； and almost concealed by thick festoons of ivy
hanging over it。 Three steps of rough…hewn Stone conducted to
it； and Matilda was on the point of descending them when She
suddenly started back。
'There are People in the Vaults！' She whispered to the Monk；
'Conceal yourself till they are past。
She took refuge behind a lofty and magnificent Tomb； erected in
honour of the Convent's Foundress。 Ambrosio followed her
example； carefully hiding his Lamp lest its beams should betray
them。 But a few moments had elapsed when the Door was pushed
open leading to the subterraneous Caverns。 Rays of light
proceeded up the Staircase： They enabled the concealed
Spectators to observe two Females drest in religious habits； who
seemed engaged in earnest conversation。 The Abbot had no
difficulty to recognize the Prioress of St。 Clare in the first；
and one of the elder Nuns in her Companion。
'Every thing is prepared；' said the Prioress； 'Her fate shall be
decided tomorrow。 All her tears and sighs will be unavailing。
No！ In five and twenty years that I have been Superior of this
Convent； never did I witness a transaction more infamous！'
'You must expect much opposition to your will；' the Other replied
in a milder voice； 'Agnes has many Friends in the Convent； and in
particular the Mother St。 Ursula will espouse her cause most
warmly。 In truth； She merits to have Friends； and I wish I
could prevail upon you to consider her youth； and her peculiar
situation。 She seems sensible of her fault； The excess of her
grief proves her penitence； and I am convinced that her tears
flow more from contrition than fear of punishment。 Reverend
Mother； would you be persuaded to mitigate the severity of your
sentence； would you but deign to overlook this first
transgression； I offer myself as the pledge of her future
conduct。'
'Overlook it； say you？ Mother Camilla； you amaze me！ What？
After disgracing me in the presence of Madrid's Idol； of the very
Man on whom I most wished to impress an idea of the strictness of
my discipline？ How despicable must I have appeared to the
reverend Abbot！ No； Mother； No！ I never can forgive the insult。
I cannot better convince Ambrosio that I abhor such crimes； than
by punishing that of Agnes with all the rigour of which our
severe laws admit。 Cease then your supplications； They will all
be unavailing。 My resolution is taken： Tomorrow Agnes shall be
made a terrible example of my justice and resentment。'
The Mother Camilla seemed not to give up the point； but by this
time the Nuns were out of hearing。 The Prioress unlocked the
door which communicated with St。 Clare's Chapel； and having
entered with her Companion； closed it again after them。
Matilda now asked； who was this Agnes with whom the Prioress was
thus incensed； and what connexion She could have with Ambrosio。
He related her adventure； and He added； that since that time his
ideas having undergone a thorough revolution； He now felt much
compassion for the unfortunate Nun。
'I design；' said He； 'to request an audience of the Domina
tomorrow； and use every means of obtaining a mitigation of her
sentence。'
'Beware of what you do！' interrupted Matilda； 'Your sudden change
of sentiment may naturally create surprize； and may give birth to
suspicions which it is most our interest to avoid。 Rather；
redouble your outward austerity； and thunder out menaces against
the errors of others； the better to conceal your own。 Abandon
the Nun to her fate。 Your interfering might be dangerous； and
her imprudence merits to be punished： She is unworthy to enjoy
Love's pleasures； who has not wit enough to conceal them。 But in
discussing this trifling subject I waste moments which are
precious。 The night flies apace； and much must be done before
morning。 The Nuns are retired； All is safe。 Give me the Lamp；
Ambrosio。 I must descend alone into these Caverns： Wait here；
and if any one approaches； warn me by your voice； But as you
value your existence； presume not to follow me。 Your life would
fall a victim to your imprudent curiosity。'
Thus saying She advanced towards the Sepulchre； still holding her
Lamp in one hand； and her little Basket in the other。 She
touched the door： It turned slowly upon its grating hinges； and
a narrow winding staircase of black marble presented itself to
her eyes。 She descended it。 Ambrosio remained above； watching
the faint beams of the Lamp as they still proceeded up the
stairs。 They disappeared； and He found himself in total
darkness。
Left to himself He could not reflect without surprize on the
sudden change in Matilda's character and sentiments。 But a few
days had past since She appeared the mildest and softest of her
sex； devoted to his will； and looking up to him as to a superior
Being。 Now She assumed a sort of courage and manliness in her
manners and discourse but ill…calculated to please him。 She
spoke no longer to insinuate； but command： He found himself
unable to cope with her in argument； and was unwillingly
obliged to confess the superiority of her judgment。 Every moment
convinced him of the astonishing powers of her mind： But what
She gained in the opinion of the Man； She lost with interest in
the affect