prejudices, but in confirming her own opinions, arriving at length at the perfect conviction that we were altogether under a deception respecting Clarice, and that that which was behind was totally different from that which was apparent; but this was a gradual work even with my friend, and with me it was still slower.

In the mean time the first horror which had been excited by the scene just described, in which the Anathema Maranatha had been pronounced on our poor sister, was becoming less and less vivid, and something like the old dull uniformity of our lives was beginning to banish from remembrance the scenes which had lately passed, when one night one of the sisters, returning from nocturns, and passing along the gallery, the door of her cell being near the eastern window which overlooked the burying-ground, saw a white figure, as she thought, standing at the foot of the marble cross in the centre of the graves. She at first imagined that her eyes had deceived her; but she looked again, and then, as she solemnly declared, she saw the figure flit over the graves, but not as if using the means of motion of any earthly creature,—and thus pass away, its drapery floating behind like a cloud or vapour; the unearthly whiteness of the whole figure showing conspicuously amid the shades, which were deep, on account of the height of the buildings with which the court was surrounded.

It was one of the dullest and most slow-minded of the sisters to whom this adventure occurred; but she was neither dull nor slow in imparting her terrors to the rest of the family. Her shrieks presently called us all into the gallery, and there the superieure made her profit of the adventure, and declared her opinion,―blaming herself severely for not having proposed the measure before, that it would be necessary and expedient to appoint a solemn day of fasting and penitence, in order, as she said, to expiate the grievous offence which had been committed in the house, by the casting down and trampling under foot of the divine symbol; "For till that is done," she added, "how can we expect that our once holy house will be freed from the influence of malign spirits and demons of hell; or that our Lady of Misericorde will smile again on her devoted children?"

Thus speaking, she took the arm of la mère assistante and moved away, having previously commanded us to

withdraw separately to our cells, in order, no doubt, that being alone, we might have the more leisure to meditate upon our agreeable situations, such as our own ignorance and superstition might depict them to us; for it was a part of our creed that evil spirits had much power on earth; and it was far from agreeable to us to suppose that because of the offence of Clarice, the malign beings were entirely at liberty to work their will with us in any way they pleased, until some means could be found of effectually propitiating those higher powers whom we had unwittingly offended.

CHAPTER V.

THE BISHOP'S VISIT.

WE were informed the next day that our bishop was on his way to St. Siffren, being on a journey through his diocess; and it was then arranged that we should require his presence to exorcise the house, and to assist at a solemn ceremony which was fixed for the day on which he was expected. There was a great fervour and bustle of preparation for this ceremony, and it was then that I first saw those parts of the building which lay below the level of the ground, and which, in old convents and churches, are frequently as extensive, and far more intricate than those above the earth. This fact may perhaps afford much matter for consideration. Why were these dark chambers prepared, unless they were intended for concealing transactions which would not bear the light?-and again, how were they constructed so as to be secret to the workmen in general? To the last of these inquiries I have somewhere read a satisfactory answer, namely, that the mysterious orders of freemasons had their origin from the necessity of providing these secret chambers in fortresses and religious houses (a necessity which arose from the state of society in the dark ages), which secret refuges, no doubt, administered largely, through the depravity of man, to the purposes of hidden barbarities. But be this as it may, there is no doubt that the chambers in the

foundation of our house were very extensive. The principal descent into them (for there were several secret stairs into different parts of these vaults) was by a narrow pointed door, embossed with iron, and covered again with one in carved wood resembling the common doors of the house. This entrance to the secret chambers opened from the upper gallery. Within the door was a narrow staircase, which, after sundry turnings and windings, arrived at a circular chamber on a level with the ground floor; whence another staircase descended to the subterraneous apartments. At the foot of these last stairs was a large stone hall, or rather, I should say, chapel, furnished with benches, and having, at the farther end, a beautiful screen of Carrara marble, of a perfect and brilliant white, so arranged as to permit that which was behind it to be distinctly seen by any one sitting before it. Within the screen was the private chapel and altar of Notre Dame de la Misericorde, with certain precious relics and votive offerings of immense cost. This little sanctuary was splendid in the extreme, being all of that brilliant yellow marble called le Brocadel d'Espagne. The roof of the chapel arose in the form of a dome, and was lined with glass mosaic, representing Him of whom no effigy should be made. When the chapel was lighted up, the brilliancy of this mosaic was almost inconceivable. The altar of the chapel was of lapis lazuli, with cornices of gold, having a splendid figure of the Virgin above it, and at her feet an image of our patroness, in the habit of the order, kneeling, and presenting a burning heart to the object which she was supposed to be in the act of worshipping. On the heart was engraved this motto in LatinGiven for thee. We, the uninitiated, were, however, only permitted to see this splendid sanctuary through the screen. We were employed to make artificial flowers for adorning the altar; also in finishing a stool, which was to be an offering to the bishop. But I was describing the inner chambers, those dark and doleful regions which never saw the fair light of day; there was more than one door which opened into the outer chapel-high-pointed, narrow, ominous-looking doorsand there was a long passage, apparently parallel with the gallery above, which ran a long way, from one corner of the small vestibule into which the lower flight of stairs descended.

Having been employed to carry some flowers down to the sacristine the day before the bishop was expected, Pauline and I contrived to escape observation in order to explore this long, under-ground passage. It was

arched, and the walls were shining with damp and slime; there were many doors which opened into it, but all were fast, and apparently had not been opened for years, but we observed several narrow winding stairs which came down into the passage, and from one of these wè gathered up a very small fragment of black serge, bearing the marks of having been torn from a larger piece, as if by a foot set on it. Pauline took it up; it was a portion of a nun's veil; she looked at me: it seemed as it were a warning to us not to pry too closely into the mysteries of the place, and we hastened back with beating hearts into the usual haunts of the sisters. But, being in a place where we could not be overheard, Pauline said, "You have hitherto, Angelique, lent a deaf ear when I have suggested my fears that poor Clarice has been unfairly dealt by; will you hear me now, when I say that I have my fears that they are dealing barbarously with her? Where is she now? where have they confined her? what has she done to incur their hatred? Oh! Angelique, Angelique, what would I give only for one moment's conversation with that unhappy creature. This, I doubt not, is a fragment of her veil; by what violence was it torn from her? In what dark chamber is she confined? to what extremities will they go with her? I have heard of offending nuns being bricked up alive in their tombs; and I know that Rome is not so far off but that an offender might be conveyed to the Inquisition there, with little fear of detection."

“Peace,” I said, shuddering; "speak not of such horrors: but if Clarice were a blasphemer?"

66

If," returned Pauline, "if she be a something else? what then? will tortures reclaim her?"

66

"You speak enigmas-what do you mean?" I asked. Nothing," she replied; "but, Angelique, at any rate she is an object of pity. In very deed and truth, I feel assured that Father Joachim had more part in throwing down the sacred symbol than poor Clarice."

"Mother of Mercy!" I exclaimed, "do you think so?" She placed her hands on my lips, and then suddenly exclaimed, "I tell you that they ought to be pea-green;

and if you assert the contrary, I shall say that you have walked with your eyes shut ever since you were born; and I refer the question to Sister Annunciata”—thus giving me notice who was behind me. "Are not the leaves of the olive-tree delicate pea-green ?" she added, "for Angelique will have it that they have a peculiar tinge of their own.

This appeal to Annunciata caused me to turn quickly round. I however as quickly took up Pauline's cue, and, for once, I think that we succeeded in baffling Annunciata, and making her believe that we were thus vehemently discussing the colour of a leaf.

The next day was a fast indeed, and we were not permitted to taste a morsel till noon. At that hour we had a dinner of pulse, and we were to fast again till after the ceremony, which was to take place at the going down of the sun. At sunset, the subterranean chapel was lighted up, the bishop was introduced into it, with his principal suffragan and Father Joachim, and we were all paraded into the outer chapel, singing one of our most solemn chants. It would be but a fatiguing repetition to describe more of our ceremonies; there are a sameness and heartlessness in them which none can feel more entirely than those who think it their duty to take a part in them. The place, beneath the earth, was the only circumstance which rendered this form materially different from every other which had gone before. But what Pauline had suggested by the apprehended sufferings of Clarice weighed heavily on my heart; and when the bishop addressed us, and told us that the dreadful offence of which the apostate sister had been guilty, in throwing down the cross, and as it were trampling it under her feet, would assuredly bring destruction on the whole house, and fiery torments for myriads of ages on every individual of the family, who did not, by prayer and fasting, deliver herself from a participation in the horrible guilt,-so strong a feeling of doubt of his veracity, and so lively a suspicion of his sincerity arose within my breast, that I could even then, had I dared, have torn the veil from my head, and rushed back into the world, at the risk of incurring even a severer punishment in the life to come than that with which he threatened me. In short, I had begun to doubt of the truth of my spiritual guides, and to see