tor of my detention, and had actually acted as confessor in the assumed name of Father Francisco.)
My anxiety was greatly increased the next day, when hour after hour passed, and still no communication from the Confessor or Superior, the nuns who brought me in breakfast and dinner were silent to all my enquiries or offers of bribes if they would help me get out of the place.
My watch had stopped for want of a key, but about seven o'clock in the evening, as near as I could guess, the old priest opened the door, and beckoned me to follow him. My heart suddenly recovered its courage, and I braced up my nerves to bear the severest penance; we passed along several passages, and at last opening a door, he motioned me to enter. There, sitting before a small table, which had a bible and crucifix upon it, sat a rather young priest, about the same age as my husband, but with a close shaven face and crown (the Earl had heavy whiskers and
