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fate of a youth whose talents had appeared so promising.
The night arrived. Ambrosio had taken care to procure from the porter the key of the low door opening into the cemetery. Furnished with this, when all was silent in the monastery, he quitted his cell, and hastened to Matilda's. She had left her bed, and was dressed before his arrival.
"I have been expecting you with impatience," said she; "my life depends upon these moments. Have you the key?"
"I have."
"Away then to the garden. We have no time to lose. Follow me!"
She took a small covered basket from the table. Bearing this in one hand, and the lamp, which was flaming upon the hearth, in the other, she hastened from the cell. Ambrosio followed her. Both maintained ⟨a⟩ profound silence. She moved on with quick but cautious steps, passed through the cloisters, and reached the western side of the garden; her eyes flashed with a fire andwildness
