think of making a Wife out of this
Grand-daughter of ‘as honest a painstaking Shoe-maker as any in
Cordova’?”

“You forget, that She is also the Grand-daughter of the late Marquis de
las Cisternas; But without disputing about birth and titles, I must
assure you, that I never beheld a Woman so interesting as Antonia.”

“Very possibly; But you cannot mean to marry her?”

“Why not, my dear Condé? I shall have wealth enough for both of us, and
you know that my Uncle thinks liberally upon the subject.

From what I have seen of Raymond de las Cisternas, I am certain that he
will readily acknowledge Antonia for his Niece. Her birth therefore
will be no objection to my offering her my hand. I should be a Villain
could I think of her on any other terms than marriage; and in truth She
seems possessed of every quality requisite to make me happy in a Wife.
Young, lovely, gentle, sensible....”

“Sensible? Why, She said nothing but ‘Yes,’ and ‘No’.”

“She did not say much more, I must confess—But then She always said
‘Yes,’ or ‘No,’ in the right place.”

“Did She so? Oh! your most obedient! That is using a right Lover’s
argument, and I dare dispute no longer with so profound a Casuist.
Suppose we adjourn to the Comedy?”

“It is out of my power. I only arrived last night at Madrid, and have
not yet had an opportunity of seeing my Sister; You know that her
Convent is in this Street, and I was going thither when the Crowd which
I saw thronging into this Church excited my curiosity to know what was
the matter. I shall now pursue my first intention, and probably pass
the Evening with my Sister at the Parlour grate.”

“Your Sister in a Convent, say you? Oh! very true, I had forgotten. And
how does Donna Agnes? I am amazed, Don Lorenzo, how you could possibly
think of immuring so charming a Girl within the walls of a Cloister!”

“I think of it, Don Christoval? How can you suspect me of such
barbarity? You are conscious that She took the veil by her own desire,
and that particular circumstances made her wish for a seclusion from
the World. I used every means in my power to induce her to change her
resolution; The endeavour was fruitless, and I lost a Sister!”

“The luckier fellow you; I think, Lorenzo, you were a considerable
gainer by that loss: If I remember right, Donna Agnes had a portion of
ten thousand pistoles, half of which reverted to your Lordship. By St.
Jago! I wish that I had fifty Sisters in the same predicament. I should
consent to losing them every soul without much heart-burning—”

“How, Condé?” said Lorenzo in an angry voice; “Do you suppose me base
enough to have influenced my Sister’s retirement? Do you suppose that
the despicable wish to make myself Master of her fortune could....”

“Admirable! Courage, Don Lorenzo! Now the Man is all in a blaze. God
grant that Antonia may soften that fiery temper, or we shall certainly
cut each other’s throat before the Month is over! However, to prevent
such a tragical Catastrophe for the present, I shall make a retreat,
and leave you Master of the field. Farewell, my Knight of Mount Aetna!
Moderate that inflammable disposition, and remember that whenever it is
necessary to make love to yonder Harridan, you may reckon upon my
services.”

He said, and darted out of the Cathedral.

“How wild-brained!” said Lorenzo; “With so excellent an heart, what
pity that He possesses so little solidity of judgment!”

The night was now fast advancing. The Lamps were not yet lighted. The
faint beams of the rising Moon scarcely could pierce through the gothic
obscurity of the Church. Lorenzo found himself unable to quit the Spot.
The void left in his bosom by Antonia’s absence, and his Sister’s
sacrifice which Don Christoval had just recalled to his imagination,
created that melancholy of mind which accorded but too well with the
religious gloom surrounding him. He was still leaning against the
seventh column from the Pulpit. A soft and cooling air breathed along
the solitary Aisles: The Moonbeams darting into