the promise of her childhood, to a living tomb. Still, as long as the curtain had not fallen, she could gaze upon her as upon one on whom, though dead, the coffin-lid is not yet closed.
"But while the new-made nun was in a blaze of light and distinct on the foreground, so that we could mark each varying expression of her face, the crowd in the church, and the comparative faintness of the light, probably made it difficult for her to distinguish her mother; for, knowing that the end was at hand, she looked anxiously and hurriedly into the church, without seeming able to fix her eyes on any particular object, while her mother seemed as if her eyes were glazed, so intensely were they fixed upon her daughter.
"Suddenly, and without any preparation, down fell the black curtain like a pall, and the sobs and tears of the family broke forth. One beautiful little child was carried out almost in fits. Water was brought to the poor mother; and at last, making our way with difficulty through the dense crowd, we got into the sacristy. 'I declare,' said the Countess —— to me, wiping her eyes, 'it is worse than a marriage!' I expressed my horror at the sacrifice of a girl so young that she could not possibly have known her own mind. Almost all the ladies agreed with me, especially all who had daughters, but many of the old gentlemen were of a different opinion. The young men were decidedly of my way of thinking, but many young girls who were conversing together seemed rather to envy their friend, who had looked so pretty and graceful, and 'so happy,' and whose dress 'suited her so well,' and to have no objection to 'go and do likewise.'"
69 (Return) "The Santa Teresa, however, has