Through all her reserve, I saw that she was revolted by her profession, and terrified at the persecutions to which it exposed her: the old woman, her sole guide and companion, was dying: she was dejected and unhappy: she despaired of our union: she expressed a desire for the refuge of the cloister.

At last came this letter, bidding me farewell for ever.

Her relation was dead; and, with the little money she had amassed, she had bought her entrance into the convent of St.Mary of the White Sword.

Imagine my despair! I obtained leave of absence--I flew to Madrid.

Beatriz is already immured in that dreary asylum; she has entered on her novitiate." "Is that the letter you refer to ?" said Calderon, extending his hand.
Fonseca gave him the letter.
Hard and cold as Calderon's character had grown, there was something in the tone of this letter--its pure and noble sentiments, its innocence, its affection--that touched some mystic chord in his heart.