Alarmed at some of the abbot’s speeches, which Antonia had innocently repeated, Elvira resolved to ascertain the truth of her suspicions. She had known enough of mankind not to be imposed upon by the monk’s reputed virtue. She reflected on several circumstances, which though trifling, on being put together seemed to authorize her fears. His frequent visits, which as far as she could see, were confined to her family; his evident emotion, whenever she spoke of Antonia; his being in the full prime and heat of manhood; and above all, his pernicious philosophy communicated to her by Antonia, and which accorded but ill with his conversation in her presence, all these circumstances inspired her with doubts respecting the purity of Ambrosio’s friendship. In consequence, she resolved, when he should next be alone with Antonia, to endeavour at surprising him. Her plan had succeeded. ’Tis true, that when she entered the room, he had already abandoned his prey; but the disorder of her daughter’s dress, and the shame and confusion stamped upon the friar’s countenance, sufficed to prove that her suspicions were but too well-founded. However, she was too prudent to make those suspicions known.