Chapter III: Part 3

It now remained to conclude how the forgiven youth was to be disposed:--there were two reasons which rendered it imprudent for him to go home; first, on the score of his mother-in-law, who being better informed than her husband could have wished, of the errors of his son, he feared would have behaved to him in a fashion which, he easily foresaw, would be attended with many inconveniences; even perhaps to the driving him back into his late vicious courses; and secondly, on that of the contract, which it would be more difficult to get Harriot to relinquish, if Natura were known to be re-established in his father's favour, than if concealed and supposed still in disgrace with him.--The generous merchant made an offer of an apartment in his house; but Natura, who had not seen his sister of a long time, proposed a visit to her; as thinking the society of that dear and prudent relation, would not only console, but establish him in virtue.

The father listened to both, and after some little deliberation, told his son, that he approved of his going to his sister for a month or two, or three, at his own option; 'but,' said he, 'it is not fit a young man like you should bury yourself for any long time in the country;--you are now of a right age to travel, and I would have you enlarge your understanding by the sight of foreign manners and customs:--I would, therefore, have you make a short visit to my daughter, after which, accept of my friend's invitation, and in the mean time I shall prepare things proper for your making the tour of Europe, under a governor who may keep you in due limits.'

Had Natura never offended his father, the utmost he could have wished from his indulgence, was a proposal of this kind:--he was in a perfect extasy, and knew not how sufficiently to express his gratitude and satisfaction; on talking, however, more particularly on the affair, it was agreed he should go first to the merchant's, in order to be new cloathed, and recover some part of those good looks his late dissolute way of life had so much impaired.

Every thing being settled so much to the advantage of Natura, even a few hours made some alteration in his countenance; so greatly does the ease of the mind contribute to the welfare of the body!--he parted not till night from this indulgent parent, when he went home with the merchant, and had the next day tradesmen of all kinds sent for, who had orders to provide, in their several ways, every thing necessary for a young gentleman born to the estate he was.--As youth is little regardless of futurity, he forgot, for a time, what consequences might possibly attend his contract with Harriot, and was as perfectly at ease, as if no such thing had ever happened. When fully equipped, he went down into that country where his sister lived, and if the least thought of his former transactions remained in him, they were now intirely dissipated, by the kind reception he there met with, and the entertainments made for him by the neighbouring gentry.

But his heart being bent on his travels, and receiving a letter from his father, wherein he acquainted him that all things were ready for his departure, he took leave of the country, after a stay of about nine weeks, and returned to the merchant's, where his father soon came to see him, and told him, he had provided a governor for him, who had served several of the sons of the nobility in that capacity, and was perfectly acquainted with the languages and manners of the countries through which they were to pass.

This tender parent moreover acquainted him, that having consulted the lawyers, on the score of that unhappy obligation he had laid himself under to Harriot, and finding they had given it as their assured opinion, that it was drawn up in the most binding and authentic manner, he had offered that creature a hundred guineas to give up her claim; but she had obstinately rejected his proposal, and seemed determined to compel him to the performance of his contract; or in case he married any other woman, to prosecute him for the moiety of whatever portion he should receive with her.

The mention of this woman, who had given Natura so much disquiet, and who indeed had been the primary cause of all his follies and misfortunes, together with the thoughts of what future inconveniencies she might involve him in, both on the account of his fortune and reputation, made him relapse into his former agitations, and afterwards rendered him extremely pensive, and he could not forbear crying out, that he would chuse rather to abandon England for ever, and, pass the whole remainder of his days in foreign climates, than yield to become the prey any way of so wicked, so infamous a wretch, 'whom,' said he, 'I shall never think on, without hating myself for having ever loved.'

The good-natured merchant, as well as his father, perceiving these reflections began to take too much root in him, joined in endeavouring to alleviate the asperity of them, by telling him, that it was their opinion, as indeed it seemed highly probable, that when he was once gone, she would be more easily prevailed upon; especially as the reconciliation between him and his father was to be kept an inviolable secret. The old gentleman also added, in order to make him easy, that how exorbitant soever she might be in her demands, and whatever it should cost, though it were the half of his estate, he would rid him of the contract; which second proof of paternal affection, renewed in Natura, as well it might, fresh sentiments of love, joy, and duty; and the same promise being again and again reiterated, he soon resumed his former chearfulness, and thought of nothing but the new scenes he was going to pass through.

In fine, not many days elapsed before he departed, with his governor and one footman, who had been an antient servant in the family.--As their first route was to France, they went in the Dover stage, and thence embarked for Calais, without any thing material happening, except it were, that on sight of the ocean, Natura was fired with a devout rhapsody at the thoughts of finding himself upon it, in a manner so vastly different from that in which, but a few months since, his despair had led him to project; and the resolution he made within himself never to be guilty of any thing hereafter, which should occasion a blush on his own face, or incur the displeasure of a father, to whom he looked upon himself as much more indebted, for the forgiveness he had received, than for being the author of his existence.

So great an effect has mercy and benevolence over a heart not hardened by a long practice of vice! How far Natura persevered in these good intentions, we shall hereafter see; but the very ability of forming them, shews that there is a native gratitude and generosity in the human mind, which, in spite of the prevalence of unruly passions, will, at sometimes, shine forth, even in the most thoughtless and inconsiderate.

BOOK the Second.

CHAP. I.

The inconsideration and instability of youth; when unrestrained by
authority, is here exemplified, in an odd adventure Natura embarked
in with two nuns, after the death of his governor.

Novelty has charms for persons of all ages, but more especially in youth, when manhood is unripened by maturity, when all the passions are afloat, and reason not sufficiently established in her throne by experience and reflection, the mind is fluctuating, easily carried down the stream of every different inclination that invites, and seldom or never has a constant bent.

From seventeen or eighteen to one or two and twenty, I look upon to be that season of life in which all the errors we commit, will admit of most excuse, because we are then at an age to think ourselves men, without the power of acting as becomes reasonable men. It was in the midst of this dangerous time, that Natura set out in order to make the tour of Europe, and his governor dying soon after their arrival in Paris, our young traveller was left to himself, and at liberty to pursue whatever he had a fancy for.

The death of this gentleman was in effect a very great misfortune to Natura; but as at his time of life we are all too apt to be impatient under any restraint, tho' never so mild and reasonable, he did not consider it in that light; and therefore less lamented his loss, than his good nature would have made him do, had he been the companion of his travels in any other station than that of governor, the very name of which implied a right of direction over his behaviour, and a power delegated by his father of circumscribing every thing he did. I believe, whoever looks back upon himself at that age, will be convinced by the retrospect, that there was nothing wonderful in Natura's imagining he had now discretion enough to regulate his conduct, without being under the controul of any person whatever; and could not, for that reason, be much afflicted at being eased of a subordination not at all agreeable to his humour, and which he thought he had not the least occasion for.

The baron d' Eyrac had often invited him to pass some days with him, at a fine villa he had about some ten leagues from Paris; but his governor not having approved that visit, he had hitherto declined it.--He now, however, took it into his head to go, and as the distance was so short, went on horseback, attended by his footman, with a portmanteau containing some linnen and cloaths, his intention being to remain there while the baron stayed, which, as he was informed, would be three weeks, or a month;--it being then the season for hunting, and that part of the country well suited for the diversion.

He had been on a party of pleasure a considerable way on this road before, so thought he had no occasion for a guide, and that he should easily be directed to the house; but it so happened that being got about twenty miles from Paris he missed his route, and took one the direct contrary, and which at last brought him to the entrance of a very thick wood:--there was not the least appearance of any human creature, nor the habitation of one, and he was beginning to consult with his servant whether to go back, or proceed till they should arrive at some town or village for refreshment, when all at once there fell the most terrible shower of hail and rain, accompanied with thunder, that ever was heard;--this determined them to go into the wood for shelter:--the storm continued till night, and it was then so dark, that they could distinguish nothing:--they wandered, however, leading their horses in their hands, for it was impossible to ride, hoping to find some path, by which they might extricate themselves out of that horrid labyrinth.

Some hours were passed in this perplexed situation, and Natura expected no better than to remain there till morning, when he heard a voice at a little distance, cry, 'Who goes there?' Never had any music been half so pleasing to the ears of Natura. 'Friends,' replied he, 'and travellers, that have lost their way.' On this the person who had spoke, drew nearer, and asked whither they were bent. Natura told him to the villa of the baron d' Eyrac. 'The baron d' Eyrac,' said the other, 'he lives twelve miles on the other side the wood, and that is five miles over.'--He then asked if there were no town near, to which he could direct them.--'No,' replied the other, 'but there is a little village where is one inn, and that is above half a league off:--you will never find your way to it; but if you will pay me, I will guide you.' Natura wished no more, and having agreed with him for his hire, followed where he led.

Nothing that was ever called an inn, had so much the shew of wretchedness; nor could it be expected otherwise, for being far from any great road, it was frequented only by shepherds, and others the meanest sort of peasants, who worked in the adjacent grounds, or tended the cattle.

In this miserable place was Natura obliged to take up his lodging:--he lay down, indeed, on the ragged dirty mattress, but durst not take off his cloaths, so noisome was every thing about him:--fatigued as he was, he could not close his eyes till towards day, but had not slept above two hours before the peasant who had served him as a guide, and had also stayed at the inn, came into his room, and waked him abruptly, telling him the lady abbess desired to speak with him.--Natura was much vexed at this disturbance, and not sufficiently awaked to recollect himself, only cried peevishly, 'What have I to do with abbesses,' and then turned to sleep again.

On his second waking, his footman acquainted him, that a priest waited to see him:--Natura then remembered what the peasant had said, but could not conceive what business these holy people had with him; he went down however immediately, and was saluted by a reverend gentleman, who told him, that the lady abbess of a neighbouring monastery (whose almoner he was) hearing from one of her shepherds the distress he had been in, had sent to intreat he would come, and refresh himself with what her convent afforded.

Natura was now ashamed of having been so rough with the peasant, but well atoned for it by the handsome apology he now made; after which he told the almoner, that he would receive the abbess's commands as soon as he was in a condition to be seen by her.--This was what good manners exacted from him, tho' in truth he had no inclination for a visit, in which he proposed so little satisfaction.

He then made his servant open the portmanteau, and give him such things as were proper to equip him for this visit; and while he was dressing, was informed by his host, that this abbess was a woman of quality, very rich, and owned the village they were in, and several others, which brought her in more rent.

If the vanity so natural to a young heart, made Natura, on this information, pleased and proud of the consideration such a lady had for him while unknown, how much more cause had he to be so, when being shewn by the same peasant into the monastery, he was brought into a parlour, magnificently furnished, and no sooner had sat down, than a very beautiful woman, whom he soon found was the lady abbess, appeared behind the grate, and welcomed him with the most elegant compliments.

He had never been in a monastery before, and had a notion that all the nuns, especially the abbesses, were ill-natured old women: he was therefore so much surprized at the sight of this lady, that he had scarce power to return the politeness she treated him with.--Her age exceeded not twenty-four; she was fair to an excess, had fine-turned features, and an air which her ecclesiastic habit could not deprive of its freedom; but the enchanting manner of her conversation, her wit, and the gaiety that accompanied all she said, so much astonished and transported him, that he cried out, without knowing that he did so, 'Good God!--is it possible a monastery can contain such charms!'--She affected to treat the admiration he expressed, as no other than meer bagatelle; but how serious a satisfaction she took in it, a very little time discovered.

'A monastery,' said she, 'is not so frightful a solitude as you, being a stranger to the manners of this country, have perhaps painted to yourself:--I have companions in whom I believe you will find some agreements.'--She then rung a bell, and ordered an attending nun, or what they call a lay-sister, to call some of the sisterhood, whose names she mentioned; and presently came two nuns, with a third lady in a different habit; the least handsome of these might have passed for a beauty, but she that was the most so I shall call Elgidia; she was sister to the abbess, but wanted a good many of her years, and being intended for a monastic life by their parents, had been sent there as a pensioner, till she should be prevailed upon to take the veil.

The abbess, having learned from Natura that he was from England, told them, in a few words, what she knew of him, and the motive of the invitation she had made him; then desired they would entertain him till her return, having some affair, which called her thence for a small time.

As Elgidia appeared by her dress to be more a woman of this world than her companions, he directed his discourse chiefly to her; but whether it were that she had less gaiety in her temper, or that she was that moment taken up with some very serious thought, Natura could not be certain, but he found her much less communicative, than either of those, whose profession seemed to exact greater reserve.

As Natura spoke French perfectly well, and delivered all he said with a great deal of ease, they were very much pleased with his conversation; and yet more so, when, at the return of the abbess, that wit and spirit they before found in him, seemed to have gained an additional vigour.

The truth is, the first sight of this beautiful abbess had very much struck him; and a certain prepossession in her favour, had rendered him not so quick-sighted as he might otherwise have been to the charms of her sister:--not that he was absolutely in love with her, nor entertained the least wish in prejudice to the sanctity of her order; it was rather an _admiration_ he was possessed with on her account, which the surprize, at finding her person and manner so widely different from what he had expected, contributed very much to excite in him.

The breakfast, which consisted of chocolate, tea, coffee, rich cakes, and sweetmeats, was served upon the Turnabout; but the abbess told him, that their monastery had greater privileges than any other in France; for they were not restrained from entertaining their kindred and friends, tho' of a different sex, within the grate; 'as you shall experience,' said she, with the most obliging air, 'if you will favour us with your company at dinner.'

Nothing could be more pleasing to Natura than this invitation, and it cannot, therefore, be supposed he hesitated much to comply with it; however, as the hour of their devotion drew nigh, and forms must be observed, he was desired to take a tour round about the village till twelve, at which time they told him dinner would be on the table.

He was still in so much amazement at what he had seen and heard, that he was not sorry at having an opportunity of being alone, to reflect on all had passed; but the deeper he entered into thought, the more strange it still seemed to him; till happening accidentally to fall into some discourse with a gentleman in the village, he was told by him, that the nunnery they were in sight of, was called, Le Convent de Riche Dames; that none but women of condition entered themselves into it, and that they enjoyed liberties little different from those that live in the world:--'It is true,' said this person, 'the gay manner in which they behave, has drawn many reflections on their order, yet I know not but they may be equally innocent with those of the most rigid.'

This was enough to shew Natura, that the civilities he received, were only such as any stranger, who appeared of some rank, might be treated with, as well as himself; and served to abate that little vanity which, without this information, might have gained ground in his heart; at least it did so for the present: what reasons he founds afterwards for the indulging it, the reader will anon be enabled to judge.

He was not, however, without a good deal of impatience for the hour appointed for his return, which being arrived, the portress admitted him into a fine room behind the grate, where he found the abbess, Elgidia, the two nuns he had seen in the morning, and another, which, it seems, were all the abbess thought proper should be present.

The table was elegantly served, and the richness of the wines, helped very much to exhilerate the spirits of the company.--Elgidia alone spoke little, tho' what she said was greatly to the purpose, and discovered that it was not for want either of sentiment or words she retained so great a taciturnity.--Natura saying somewhat, that shewed he took notice how singular she was in this point, the abbess replied, that her sister did not like a convent, that the comedy, the opera, and ball, had more charms for her than devotion. On which Natura made some feint attempts to justify a goute for those public diversions, but was silenced by the abbess, who maintained the only true felicities of life were religion and friendship. 'What then do you make of love, madam?' cried he briskly: 'love, the first command of Heaven, and the support of this great universe:--love, which gives a relish to every other joy, and'--he was going on, but the abbess interrupted him, 'Hold!--Hold!' said she, 'this is not a discourse fit for these sacred precincts.'--But these words were uttered in a sound, and accompanied with a look, which wholly took away their austerity, and it was easy for Natura to perceive by the manner in which they were spoke, as well as by a sigh, which escaped Elgidia at the same time, that neither of these ladies were in reality enemies to the passion he was defending.

Some little time after dinner was over, Natura was about to take his leave; but the abbess told him, that she had formed a design to punish him for pretending to espouse the cause of love; 'and that is,' said she, 'by detaining you in a place, where you must never speak, nor hear a word, in favour of it':--'we have,' continued she, 'a little apartment adjoining to the monastery, tho' not in it, which serves to accommodate such friends as visit us, and are too far from home to return the same day:--you must not refuse to pass at least one night in it; and I dare promise you, that you will not find yourself worse lodged, than the preceding one:--your servant may also lie in the same house, and I will send your horses to a neighbouring farmer; who will take care of them.'

The manner in which this request was urged, had somewhat in it too obliging, for Natura to have denied, in good manners, even if his inclinations had been opposite; but indeed he was too much charmed with the conversation of the lovely abbess, and her fair associates, to be desirous of quitting it.--He not only stayed that night, but also, on their continuing to ask it, many succeeding ones.--He lay in the apartment above-mentioned, breakfasted, dined, and supped in the convent, as if a pensioner in the place, always in the same company, and ambitious of no other.

The gallantries with which he treated the abbess, were as tender as innocence would permit; nor did he presume to harbour any views of being happier with her than he was at present.

But see! the strange caprice of love! It was not through a coldness of constitution, nor any confederations of her quality and function, which rendered him so content with enjoying no more of her than her conversation; nor that hindered him from taking advantage of many advances she made him, whenever they were alone, of becoming more particular; but it was the progress Elgidia every day made in his esteem:--the more he saw that beautiful young lady, the more he thought her charming; and every time she spoke discovered to him a new fund of wit, and sweetness of disposition:--it was not in her power to erase the first impression her sister had made on him, but it was to stop the admiration he had for her from growing up into a passion:--whenever he saw either of them alone, he thought her most amiable he was with; and when they were together, he was divided between both.

For upwards of a month did he continue in the same place, and in the same situation of mind; but then either the abbess's own good sense, or the advice of some friend, remonstrating to her, that so long a stay of a young gentleman, who was known to be not of her kindred, might occasion discourses to her disreputation, and that of the monastery in general; she took the opportunity one day, when he was making an offer of going, as he frequently did, to speak to him in this manner:

'I know not how,' said she, 'to part with you, and I flatter myself you think of going, rather because you imagine your tarrying here for any length of time, might be inconvenient for us, than because you are tired of the reception you have found here.'

'Ah madam!' cried he, 'be assured I could live for ever here;--and that I only grieve that such a hope is impossible.--If what you now say is sincere,' answered she, 'you may at least prolong the happiness we at present enjoy:--but I shall put you to the proof,' continued she, looking on him with eyes in which the most eager passion was visibly painted,--'to hush the tongue of censure, you shall remove to a town about seven miles distant, where there are many good houses, in one of which you may lodge, under pretence of liking the air of this country, and visit us, as other of our friends do, as frequently as you please, without endangering any remarks, even though you should stay with us three or four nights at a time.'

Natura was so ravished at this proposal, and the kind, almost fond manner, in which it was made, that he catched hold of her hand, and kissed it, with a vehemence not conformable to a Platonic affection:--she seemed, however, far from being offended at his boldness, which had perhaps proceeded to greater lengths, had not Elgidia at that instant come into the room.--The abbess was a little disconcerted, but to conceal it as well as she could, 'sister,' said she, 'I have made our guest the proposal I mentioned to you this morning, and leave you to second it': with these words she withdrew.

Elgidia appeared in little less confusion than her sister had done; but Natura was in infinitely more than either of them.--The sudden sight of her who possessed at least half of his affections, just in the moment he was in a kind of rapture with another, struck him like the ghost of a departed mistress; and tho' he had never made any declaration of love either to the one or the other, yet his heart reproached him with a secret perfidy, and he durst scarce lift his eyes to her face, when with a timid voice he at last said, 'Madam, may I hope you take any interest in what your sister has been speaking of?'--'You may be sure I do,' replied she, 'in all that concerns the abbess; as to my farther sentiments on your staying or going, they can be of no consequence to you.'--'How, madam!' resumed he, by this time a little re-assured, 'of no consequence! You know nothing of my heart, if you know it not incapable of forming the least wish but to please you.'

He said many other tender and gallant things to her, in order to engage her to add her commands to those of the abbess; but, either the belief that he was wholly devoted to that lady, or the natural reserve of her temper, would suffer her to let him draw no more from her, than that she should share in the happiness her sister proposed to herself, in his continuing so near them.

But tho' Elgidia could command her words, she could not have so much power over her eyes as to keep them from betraying a tenderness not inferior to that of her sister; and Natura had the satisfaction of finding he was beloved by both these amiable women, without thinking himself so far attached to either, as not to be able to break off whenever he pleased.

But to what end tended all this gallantry! to what purpose was all this waste of time, in an amour, which either had no aim in view, or if it had, must be such a one, as must turn to the confusion of the persons concerned in it!--These indeed are questions any one might naturally ask, but could not have been resolved by Natura, who took a pleasure in prosecuting the adventure, and neither examined what he proposed by it himself, or considered what consequences might ensue; and herein he but acted as most others do of his age, who rarely give themselves the pains of consulting what _may_, or _will be_, when pleased with what _is_.

He went to the place the abbess had directed, but imagined he should be very much at a loss for amusement, being wholly a stranger to every body. He would doubtless have been so, had his retreat been in any other country than France; but as it is the peculiar characteristic of that nation to entertain at first sight with the same freedom and communicativeness of a long acquaintance, he soon found himself neither without company nor diversion:--whether he had an inclination to hunt, or dance, or play, he always met with persons ready to join in the party, so that the intervals he passed there, between his visits to the monastery, seemed not at all tedious to him.

The ladies, however, were far from being forgotten by him; ten days had not elapsed, before he returned to renew, or rather to improve, the impression he had both given and received.--The abbess appeared all life and spirit at his return, but Elgidia was more melancholly than when he left her; but it was a melancholly which had in it somewhat of a soft languor, which was very engaging to Natura, especially as he had reason to believe, by several looks and expressions, which in some unguarded moments fell from her, that he had the greatest interest in it.

The oftener he saw her, the more he was confirmed in this conjecture; but as he could not be assured of it, never treated her in a manner which should give her room to guess what his thoughts were, for fear of meeting with a rebuff, which would have been too mortifying to his vanity:--but as the belief of being beloved by her, rendered her insensibly more dear to him; the regards he paid her, and the sighs which frequently issued from his breast when he approached her, did not escape the notice of the quick-sighted abbess; and disdaining a competitorship in a heart she thought she had wholly engrossed, resolved to be more plain than hitherto she had been, in order to bring him to declare himself.

With this view she led him one day into the garden, and being seated in a close arbour, where there was no danger of being overheard,--'Natura,' said she, 'I doubt not but you may perceive, by the civilities I have treated you with, that you are not indifferent to me; but as you cannot be sensible to how great a degree my regard for you extends, it remains that I confess to you there is but one thing wanting to compleat the intire conquest of my heart'; 'and that is,' continued she, fixing her eyes intently on his face, 'that you will cease for the future to pay those extraordinary assiduities to Elgidia you have lately done.'

How much soever Natura was transported at the beginning of this discourse, the closure of it gave him an inexpressible shock, insomuch that he was wholly unable to make any reply, to testify the sense he had of the obligation she conferred on him. 'I see,' said she, 'the too great influence my sister has over you leaves me no room to hope any thing from you:--I did not think the sacrifice I exacted from you so great, that the purchase of my heart would not have atoned for it; but since I find it is otherwise, I repent I put you to the trial.'

In speaking these words she rose up, and flew out of the arbour: the confusion Natura was in, prevented him from endeavouring to detain her; and before he could resolve with himself how to behave in so critical a conjuncture, she was out of sight.--Whatever tenderness he had for the other, he could not bear the thoughts of having offended this lady: the confession she had just made him, seemed to deserve all his gratitude; and tho' the price she demanded for her heart was too excessive for him to comply with, yet he resolved to make his peace with her the first time he found her alone, on the best terms he could.

This was an opportunity, however, not so easily attained as he had imagined:--the abbess conceived so much spite at the little inclination he had testified to comply with her demand, that she kept one or other of the nuns with her the whole remainder of that day, and he could only tell her by his eyes how desirous he was of coming to an eclaircisement.

But as if this was a day destined to produce nothing but extraordinary events, perceiving the abbess industriously avoided speaking to him, he had retired into the parlour to ruminate on the affair, when Elgidia came in to him, and with somewhat more gaiety than she was accustomed to, cried, 'What, alone, Natura! but I suppose you attend my sister, and I will not be any interruption'; and then turned to go out of the room. All the discontent he was in for the displeasure he found he had given the abbess, could not keep him from getting between her and the door:--'I have no other way to convince you of the injustice of your suspicion,' said he, 'than to detain you here; tho' perhaps,' added he, looking on her with an unfeigned tenderness, 'while I am clearing myself in one article, it may not be in my power to prevent betraying my guilt in another, which it may be you will find yet less worthy of forgiveness.'

'I know not,' replied she, with a smile too enchanting to be resisted, 'that I ever gave you any tokens of a rigid disposition; and besides, I am inclined to have so good an opinion of you, that I look on your giving me any cause of offence, as one of the things out of your power.'

Emboldened by these words, 'Suppose, madam,' returned he, 'I should confess to you that I was indulging the most passionate tenderness for the beautiful Elgidia!--that her sweet idea is always present with me, and that I sometimes am presuming enough to cherish the hopes of not being hated by her':--'tell me,' continued he, 'what punishment does this criminal deserve?'

'To be treated in the same manner,' answered she blushing, 'if he is sincere; and to be made know that he cannot have formed any designs upon the heart of Elgidia, which Elgidia has not equally harboured upon that of Natura.'--A declaration so unexpected might very well transport a young man, even beyond himself, and all considerations whatever:--forgetful of the respect due to her quality and virtue, and regardless of the place they were in, he seized her in his arms, and almost smothered her with kisses, before she could disengage herself; at length, breaking from him, 'It is not by such testimonies as these,' said she, 'that I expected you should repay the acknowledgment I have made; but by a full laying open your bosom, as to what passes in it, in regard to my sister:--I know very well she loves you, and am apt to believe she has not been more discreet than myself in concealing it from you; but am altogether at a loss as to the returns you may have made her passion.'

Natura now really loving her, hesitated not to do as she desired; neither making any secret of the admiration which the abbess had raised in him at first sight, nor the discourse she had lately entertained him with, and the injunction she had laid upon him. Elgidia took this as so great a proof of his affection, that she made no scruple to ratify the confession she had made him by all the endearments that innocence would permit:--after which, they consulted together how he should behave to the abbess, whose temper being violent, it was not proper to drive to extremes; and it was therefore agreed between them, that he should continue to treat her with a shew of tenderness: Elgidia even proposed, that he should renounce her, in case the other continue to insist upon it; but Natura could not consent his insincerity should go so far.

They parted, mutually content with each other; and Natura himself believed his inclinations were now fixed, by the assurance Elgidia had given him of the most true and perfect passion that ever was: but how little do we know of our own hearts at his years! the next time he saw the abbess alone, he relapsed into the same fluctuating state as before, and found too much charms in the kindness she expressed for him, to be able to withdraw himself intirely from her.

That lady, who loved to an excess, could not be any long time without affording him the means of reconciliation; and the next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, descended alone into the garden, giving him a look at the same time, which commanded him to follow:--he did so, and perceiving she took her way to the same arbour they had been in before, he went in soon after her, affecting, rather than feeling, a timidity in approaching her. 'Well, Natura,' said she, 'have you yet examined your heart sufficiently, to know whether the full possession of mine, can atone for your breaking with my sister';--to which he replied, that as he had no engagements with Elgidia, nor had ever any other thoughts of her, than such as were excited by that respect due to her sex and rank, he was wholly ignorant in what manner it was exacted from him to behave:--'but,' added he, 'if vowing that from the first moment I beheld your charms, I became absolutely devoted to you, may deserve any part of that affection you are pleased to flatter me with, I am ready to give you all the assurances in the power of words.'

This asseveration could not be called altogether false, because he had really a latent inclination in him towards her, which all the tenderness he had for Elgidia could not eradicate; and this it was that gave all he said such an air of sincerity as won upon the abbess, to believe her jealousy had misinterpreted the looks she had sometimes seen him give her sister, and at length made her desist from reproaching him on that score.

The tranquility of her mind being restored, she gave a loose to the violence of her passion, in such caresses as might well make the person who received them forgetful of all other obligations:--in these transporting moments the lovely abbess had his whole soul:--he now, unasked, abjured not only Elgidia, but all the sex beside, and even wondered at himself for having ever entertained a wish beyond the happiness he enjoyed at present.

The abbess was too well versed in the affairs of love, not to be highly satisfied with the proofs he gave of his, than which, it is certain, nothing for the time could be more sincere or ardent; death was it to them both to put an end to this inchanting scene, but as they were seen to go into the garden soon after one another, and too long a stay together might occasion a suspicion of the cause, they were obliged to separate, though not without a promise of meeting in the same place at night, after the nuns were all retired to their respective chambers.

The abbess passed through a back-way into the chapel, it being near the time of prayers, and Natura returned by the great walk into the outward cloister, where Elgidia seeing him at a distance, and alone, waited his coming, to know of him how he had proceeded with her sister.--Natura, yet full of the abbess and the favours he had received from her, would have gladly dispenced with this interview; but she was too near, before he perceived her, for him to draw back with decency.

Far from suspecting any change in him, and judging of his integrity by her own, 'I was impatient,' said she, 'to hear the event of your conversation with the abbess; tell me therefore in a few words, for the bell rings to chapel, whether you have succeeded so far as to stifle all jealousies of me?' 'Yes, madam,' replied he, recovering himself as well as he could from his confusion, 'we may be easy for the future, as to that particular.'--'I long for the particulars of your discourse' resumed she, 'but cannot now stay to be informed; meet me in the garden after the sisterhood are in bed'; 'this,' continued she, putting a key into his hand, 'will admit you by the gate that leads to the road:--do not fail to be there at nine.'--The haste she was in to be gone, would not have permitted him time to make any answer, if he had been provided with one, and he could only just kiss her hand as she turned from him.

But what was the dilemma he was now involved in! the hour, and place she appointed, were the very same in which he was to meet the abbess! impossible was it for him to gratify both, and not very easy to deceive either:--he went back into the garden, ruminating what course he should take in so intricate an affair; at first he thought of writing a little billet, and slipping it into Elgidia's hand, acquainting her that the abbess had commanded him to attend her in the garden at the time she mentioned, and telling her that he thought it necessary to obey, to prevent all future suspicion:--but he rejected this design, not only as that young lady might possibly have the curiosity to conceal herself behind the arbour, and would then be a witness of things it was no way proper she should be informed of, but also because his heart reproached him for having already done more than he could answer, and forbad him to deceive her any farther; in fine, that he might be guilty of perfidy to neither, he resolved to quit both, at least for that night, but knew not yet on what he should determine for the future.

Divine service being over, he repaired to the parlour, where, after they were sat down to dinner, he said, addressing himself to the abbess, that having sent his servant that morning to his lodgings, he had received letters of the utmost importance, which required immediate answers; and that he must be obliged for that reason to take his leave; 'though with what regret,' added he, 'it is easy to perceive, by the long stay I always make here.'

The abbess insisted upon it, that he should not go;--told him he might write what he pleased there without interruption; and that his man might carry his dispatches to the post: but all she urged could not prevail, and both that lady and her sister had the mortification to hear him give orders that his own horse should be got ready with all expedition; as for his servant he was left behind for a few hours, on the account of packing up some things he had brought him in the design of staying a longer time.

In fine, he went away, with a promise of returning in a short time. The abbess was inwardly fretted at the disappointment, but imagined it was only occasioned by the motive he pretended, till a young nun who was her confidante in all things, and had happened to cross the cloyster when Natura and Elgidia were talking together before prayers, and had seen him kiss her hand, informed her of this passage, and added, of her own conjecture, that the abrupt departure of Natura was owing to somewhat that lady had said to him:--there needed no more to inflame the passionate and jealous abbess; she doubted not of being betrayed, and flew directly to her sister's chamber, accused her of being guilty of the most criminal intercourse with a stranger, and threatened if she did not confess the whole truth to her, and swear never to see him more, she would send an account of her behaviour to their parents, who would not fail to thrust her into a less commodious convent, and compel her to take the veil directly.

The mild and timid disposition of Elgidia, could not sustain this shock; she immediately fainted away, and help being called to bring her to herself, in opening her bosom a paper fell out of it, which the abbess snatching up, ran to her chamber to examine, and found it contained these words:

'To prevent my dear angel from being surprized at my sudden
departure, know that it is to avoid the abbess, who obliged me to
give her a promise of meeting her this night in the garden:--at my
next visit you shall be informed at full of all that passed
between us in the morning. Adieu.

Natura.

As Natura had no opportunity to make an excuse to Elgidia, he had slipt this billet into her hand on taking leave; and though no more was meant by it than to make her easy till his return, there was sufficient in the expression not only to convince the abbess that her sister was indeed her rival, but also to make her think herself had been the dupe to their amour.--Impossible would it be to describe the force of those passions, which, in this dreadful instant, overwhelmed her soul; so I shall only say, it was as great as woman could sustain, and which the impatience of venting on their proper object, put it into her head to go to him in a disguise, and upbraid his perfidy. As she seldom listened to any dictates, but those of her passion, this design was no sooner formed than preparations were made for the execution, nor could all her confidante urged, on the danger and scandal of the attempt, deter her from it.

There was a fellow who was frequently employed about the monastery, in whom she could confide:--him she sent to a farmer, with orders to hire three horses, one for herself, another for her confidante, who, in spite of all her apprehensions on that account, she would needs make accompany her, and the third for the man, who was to attend them as a valet, the little road they had to travel. This fellow was directed to bring the horses about ten o'clock at night, at which time it would be dark, to the corner of a wall at the farther end of the garden, when she and her companion were to mount, and away on this wild expedition.

But while the abbess was busy on her project, Elgidia had also another, though of somewhat a less desperate kind; her sister's temper gave her but too much reason to believe she would revenge herself on her by all the ways in her power; and trembling at the thoughts of being exposed to her parents, and the censure of the world, as the other had threatened, which she knew no way to avoid, but by Natura making up this quarrel; and tho' she knew it could only be done by his renouncing all pretensions to herself, yet she rather chose to lose the man she loved, than her reputation. As she knew not whether the abbess would delay the gratification of her malice any longer than the next morning, she resolved to send for Natura that same night, in order to engage him to a second reconciliation with her sister, let the terms be never so cruel to herself.

She had no sooner laid this plot, than she ran to see if the servant he had left behind was yet gone, and finding he was not, bad him wait a little, that she might send a letter by him to his master. The contents of her epistle were as follow:

'Something has happened, which lays me under a necessity of
speaking to you this night:--the only consolation I have under the
severest of all afflictions, is, that I did not take back the key
I gave you in the morning: I beg you will make use of it, and let
me find you in the close arbour as soon as the darkness will
permit your entrance unobserved:--fail not, if you have any regard
for the honour, the peace, and even the life of the unfortunate

Elgidia.

Natura had no sooner received this billet from the hands of his servant, than all his tenderness for the fair authoress of it revived in him, which, joined to his impatient curiosity for the knowledge of the accident she mentioned, easily determined him to do as she desired.

He set out at the close of day; but the moon rising immediately after, shone so extremely bright as proved her, no less than the sun, an enemy to the design he was at present engaged in; he was therefore obliged to wait till that planet had withdrawn her light, before he durst approach the convent.

The abbess and her companion having dressed themselves in riding habits, went at the above-mentioned hour to the gate where they expected the man and horses were attending their coming; but there was not the least appearance of any.--the abbess, emboldened by her impatience and despair, would needs venture out some paces beyond the gate, to listen if she could hear any sound of what she wanted, but had not long continued in that posture, before she discovered by the twinkling light of the stars, two men on horseback, galloping directly to the place where she stood:--impossible was it for her to discern what sort of persons they were, but easy to know, as there were two men, and no more than two horses, that they were not those she looked for; on which she ran with all the haste she could back into the garden, and clapping the gate after her, in her fright stopped not till she was almost at the entrance of the cloyster:--both she and her companion were out of breath; but when they had a little recovered it, the latter took the liberty of railying her on the terror she had been in, at the sight of two persons, who were, doubtless, only pursuing their own affairs, without any thought or notice of them:--the abbess acknowledged the pleasantry was just, and returned again to the gate, which having opened, they found two horses tied to a tree, at a little distance from it, without any person to look after them. She imagined they belonged to the farmer, but could not guess wherefore there was not a third, or how it happened that the man was not with them.--The two lady-adventurers waited in hopes of seeing their attendant with another horse, till the abbess, fearing the night would be too far spent for the execution of her design, and grown quite wild with rage and vexation, resolved to go without a guide; and accordingly she, and the young nun that was with her, mounted the horses they found there, and rode away.

Little did this distracted woman imagine to whom she was indebted for the means of conveying herself where she wished to be; for in effect these horses were Natura's, and it was no other than himself, attended by his man, who had put her into that fright, which occasioned her running so far back into the garden, as gave him time to enter, without being either seen or heard by her:--he was no sooner within the gate, than his servant tied the horses to a tree, as has been related, and retired to a more convenient place, either to lye down to sleep, or on some other occasion.--Thus did an accident which had like to have broken all Elgidia's measures, turn wholly to the advantage of them, and she found as much satisfaction, as a person in her situation could possibly take, in finding Natura so punctual to the summons she had sent: