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igence, "that on the morning of our high festival, our lady's day, it is usual for such as devote themselves to heaven, to receive the veil. Stand bye a while, and you will see the ceremony."
"What is the name of the novice who is now to receive it?" said Vivaldi, in a voice whose tremulous accents betrayed his emotion.
The friar glanced an eye of scrutiny upon him, as he replied, "I know not her name, but if you will step a little this way, I will point her out to you."
Vivaldi, drawing his hood over his face, obeyed in silence.
"It is she on the right of the abbess," said the stranger, "who leans on the arm of a nun, she is covered with a white veil, and is taller than her companions."
Vivaldi observed her with a fearful eye, and though he did not recognise the person of Ellena, yet, whether it was that his fancy was possessed with her image, or thatthere
