for his past unjustifiable behaviour, trying to restore to him my love and confidence.
When suddenly awaking from a deep reverie, I remarked, we were in a narrow gloomy road.—"I thought," said I, 'that your uncle's house was not a mile from the town?" "His town house is not," replied he, "but another house to which he set off this morning, is about two miles further on." A sudden chill seized on my heart; but checking a rising apprehension, I remained silent, until we entered a narrow road through a thick wood, and I saw the spires of a large building through the trees.—"Is that the house?" asked I.—"No; my uncle's is about half a mile further; but he talked of calling here, to take up a young lady, a relation, as a companion for you." I, blind and credulous, ready to believe what I wished for to be a truth, simply congratulated myself on his uncle's kind consideration. We soon stopped at the outside of a large building with a pair of iron gates.—"Bless me!" said I, "surely this is a convent."—"Yes, you are
