The prioress received the paper with an air of humility: but no sooner had her eye glanced over the contents, than her resentment baffled all the efforts of hypocrisy. A deep crimson spread itself over her face, and she darted upon Lorenzo looks of rage and menace.

“This order is positive,” said she in a voice of anger, which she in vain strove to disguise; “Willingly would I obey it; but unfortunately it is out of my power.”

Lorenzo interrupted her by an exclamation of surprise.

“I repeat it, señor; to obey this order is totally out of my power. From tenderness to a brother’s feelings, I would have communicated the sad event to you by degrees, and have prepared you to hear it with fortitude. My measures are broken through: this order commands me to deliver up to you the sister Agnes without delay; I am therefore obliged to inform you without circumlocution, that on Friday last, she expired.”

Lorenzo started back with horror, and turned pale. A moment’s recollection convinced him that this assertion must be false, and it restored him to himself.

“You deceive me!” said he passionately; “But five minutes passed since you assured me that though ill she was still alive. Produce her this instant! See her I must and will, and every attempt to keep her from me will be unavailing.”

“You forget yourself, señor; you owe respect to my age as well as my profession. Your sister is no more. If I at first concealed her death, it was from dreading lest an event so unexpected should produce on you too violent an effect. In truth, I am but ill repaid for my attention. And what interest, I pray you, should I have in detaining her? To know her wish of quitting our society is a sufficient reason for me to wish her absence, and think her a disgrace to the sisterhood of St.