of the room, and unobserving. Though under a repeated promise to reveal to her the state of my mind, now that I had been long familiar with the secrets of the nunnery, I most cautiously guarded myself, and assumed what did not belong to me—the appearance of one devotedly fond of the institution.
I told her that I had now been long enough a "Received" to be able to express an opinion; and I must inform her that we lived a most happy life within the institution; that I would urge her, as a friend, to take the veil, and withdraw from that world which was so full of temptations. To this she lent a very serious ear; and I saw that my words produced a solemn and saddening effect upon her feelings. She replied that she felt quite undecided what to do. She seemed solicitous to be still farther assured of the happiness I had spoken of as enjoyed by the nuns.
When she touched that subject, I addressed her exactly after the manner directed by the Superior, and speaking rather harshly, inquired of her, "Do you condemn the life of a nun, then?" She instantly answered, "No;" and she easily admitted all I said about the attention paid to the comfort of those in the Convent. But," said she, "my mother is very much opposed to my taking the veil; she is a widow, and you know we are bound to honour and obey our parents—nature teaches us that." The Superior had furnished me, in French, with an answer to this objection; and as we were accustomed to converse in English, I had only to translate her words, which were,
"Les droits de nos parens ne sont pas devant lea droits de notre religion."
"The claims of our parents are not before those of our religion."
"I shan't be a nun!" said she, with determination. I talked with her, however, some time, and she began again to listen patiently.
I then added that Christ had commanded us to
