He perceived not, that his vanity was flattered by the praises bestowed upon his eloquence and virtue; that He felt a secret pleasure in reflecting that a young and seemingly lovely Woman had for his sake abandoned the world, and sacrificed every other passion to that which He had inspired: Still less did He perceive that his heart throbbed with desire, while his hand was pressed gently by Matilda's ivory fingers.
By degrees He recovered from his confusion.

His ideas became less bewildered: He was immediately sensible of the extreme impropriety, should Matilda be permitted to remain in the Abbey after this avowal of her sex.

He assumed an air of severity, and drew away his hand.
'How, Lady!' said He; 'Can you really hope for my permission to remain amongst us?
Even were I to grant your request, what good could you derive from it?
Think you that I ever can reply to an affection, which...' 'No, Father, No! I expect not to inspire you with a love like mine.

I only wish for the liberty to be near you, to pass some hours of the day in your society; to obtain your compassion, your friendship and esteem.
Surely my request is not unreasonable.' 'But reflect, Lady! Reflect only for a moment on the impropriety of my harbouring a Woman in the Abbey; and that too a Woman, who confesses that She loves me.

It must not be.