“Hasten, reverend father!” said he; “Hasten to the young Rosario. He earnestly requests to see you; he lies at the point of death.”

“Gracious God! Where is Father Pablos? Why is he not with him? Oh! I fear! I fear!”

“Father Pablos has seen him, but his art can do nothing. He says that he suspects the youth to be poisoned.”

“Poisoned? Oh! The unfortunate! It is then as I suspected! But let me not lose a moment; perhaps it may yet be time to save her!”

He said, and flew towards the cell of the novice. Several monks were already in the chamber. Father Pablos was one of them, and held a medicine in his hand which he was endeavouring to persuade Rosario to swallow. The others were employed in admiring the patient’s divine countenance, which they now saw for the first time. She looked lovelier than ever. She was no longer pale or languid; a bright glow had spread itself over her cheeks; her eyes sparkled with a serene delight, and her countenance was expressive of confidence and resignation.

“Oh! torment me no more!” was she saying to Pablos, when the terrified abbot rushed hastily into the cell; “My disease is far beyond the reach of your skill, and I wish not to be cured of it”⁠—Then perceiving Ambrosio⁠—“Ah! ’tis he!” she cried; “I see him once again, before we part forever! Leave me, my brethren; much have I to tell this holy man in private.”

The monks retired immediately, and Matilda and the abbot remained together.

“What have you done, imprudent woman!” exclaimed the latter, as soon as they were left alone; “Tell me; are my suspicions just? Am I indeed to lose you? Has your own hand been the instrument of your destruction?”

She smiled, and grasped his hand.

“In what have I been imprudent, Father? I have sacrificed a pebble, and saved a diamond: my death preserves a life valuable to the world, and more dear to me than my own. Yes, Father; I am poisoned; but know that the poison once circulated in your veins.”