"You are young and idle—if the air does our invalid good, will you stay with her, and help her to return to her cell?"
"O, I like to be of use," replied Beatrice. "If not so good a nurse as yourself, I will be quite as careful."
They were again alone, and the young Spaniard gazed with great interest on her companion, who, after an eager glance round, said,
"You are not a nun—do you mean to take the veil?"
"Never," replied Beatrice; "I am only waiting the arrival of my father."
”Is he an Englishman, that you speak the language so well?"
"No: he is a Spaniard; but my mother was a native of your country."
"Would to God I had never left it!" and again the tears fell thick and fast; then, speaking with an expression of alarm, "I am so weak I scarce know what I say; but surely I need not fear treachery from you?"
A sudden idea flashed across Beatrice: she knew the importance attached to the English convert; she had heard of the haste with which her vows had been made; divers rumours had been afloat in the convent respecting her.
