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 http://www.archive.org/details/nunsofdesertorwo01lewi 
 
THE 
 
 NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 A NOVEL, 
 
 IAMS» MIIfSRVA»f 1EBS> LBAOBNHALLtlTSStTt 
 
(^^ 
 
 jx-,7'A^ fvfc--^ 
 
 NUNS OF THE HWESEUT; 
 
 OR. 
 
 THE WOODLAKD WITCHES, 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 BY EUGENIA I) E ACTON. 
 
 jivrnoR or 
 
 feSSAYS ON THS ART OP BEING HAPPY; A TALE WITHOWl' 
 A TITLE, &C. 
 
 VO.L, I, 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED AT THE 
 
 POE LANE, NEWMAN, AND CO. 
 
 LEAD£NH ALL-STREET, 
 1805. 
 
fl5 
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 To the ingemious Header. 
 
 x\T a time when infidelity increases^ and 
 consequent immoralities abound^ it is in- 
 cumbent upon every lover of his species 
 — upon every one solicitous for the inter- 
 ests of virtue^ and the happiness of the 
 Youth of these realms — to endeavour by 
 either precept or example— by both^ if 
 both are within the limits of his given 
 abilities — to ameliorate the condition of 
 Mankind^ as far as the unavoidable troubles 
 A 3 which^ 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 whichj for doubtless wise and good pur- 
 poses^ are strewn through this lower 
 creation^ will permit. 
 
 It is certainly possible for felicity to 
 abound amongst us in a much greater de- 
 gree than it does at present ; and that vice — 
 unpunishable vice, by the laws of England 
 ' — occasions its interruption. 
 
 Rightly does the Church Liturgy incite 
 us to deprecate Envy, Hatred, Malice, and 
 all Uncharitableness. These are the roots 
 from whence a variety of evils branch. — 
 From these, with Avarice^ Ambition, and 
 Intemperance, proceed all that is inimical 
 to Man ; yet these are not — cannot — be 
 cognizable by any existing code of laws. 
 
 Their consequences, indeed, which are 
 Sla^dees, Thefts, and Murders, are amen- 
 able to Justice; but who Vv^ould not wish 
 
 to 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 to see these enormities prevented rather 
 than punished. 
 
 No one but he, who, contrary to the 
 unlimitted mercy of his Creator, deligJiteth 
 in the death of a sinner. 
 
 Severe critics — forgetful at the moment 
 of their own habits — have accused me of 
 severity. 
 
 That my severity is intended kindness^ 
 I trust will, by my friends, not be denied. 
 
 From my heart I wish the welfare — and 
 therefore the reformation — of my fellows. 
 
 If it should be said that I am unequal to 
 the task of effecting that desirable purpose, 
 I can only lament my inability, and ex- 
 tenuate my presumption by affirming that 
 I employ, to the utmost, my delegated 
 powers ; and by observing that the reform- 
 ation of the Moral World is not the work 
 5 of 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 of a moment ; neither of one, nor one 
 thousand individuals^ all exercised in the 
 same arduous task. It can only, without 
 special interposition, be progressive, and 
 that slowly ; therefore it becomes the posi- 
 tive duty of every one to add their quota, 
 whether great or small, to assist in forming 
 the minds of young people, who, as they 
 ought to be encouraged in a moderate love 
 of reading, and who, if they read at all, 
 will read books of amusement, ought like- 
 wise to be provided with performances of 
 a mixed nature — not too dry to disgust, 
 nor too light to weaken their minds. To 
 effect this, has been my aim ; whether or 
 not I have succeeded, I must leave to be 
 determined by my readers. 
 
 '' Versatile morality made palatable to 
 youth, by the aid of fiction/' — was a title 
 
 I have 
 
^PREFACE. IX 
 
 I have been inclined to prefix to one of 
 my publications^ but such as I wish to 
 engage^ and^ if possible, instruct,, would 
 be more inclined to read what is denomi- 
 nated a Novel. 
 
 With regard to any severity — as 
 
 '* Vice must be ridiculed or lashed." 
 
 I have treated a violation of the friendly^ 
 the social virtues^ with some degree of 
 sarcasm ; but as no one can distinguish a 
 designed 'portrait, I am convinced I have 
 not written any thing that can offend an 
 impartial reader; and that no severity can 
 be painfully experienced from any part^ 
 but by those whom it reaches^ and whom I 
 should feel a sincere satisfaction to benefit. 
 
 To varnish Vice is rebellion to Virtue ; 
 it cannot be too much exposed. Folly I 
 
 have 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 have always treated with lenity, whenever 
 it was obviously the consequence of a na- 
 tive weakness of intellect. 
 
 It has been said — but very injudiciously, 
 because without even an appearance of truth 
 — that in the digressive parts of my works, 
 I have imitated Fielding ; the accusation is 
 so obviously void of foundation, that ase- 
 rious refutation of it is totally unnecessary. 
 
 I acknowledge that as I have not the 
 ability, neither have I the inclination to 
 imitate so great a man — nor indeed any 
 man who does, or ever did, write, whether 
 dead or living. 
 
 If the suspicion of the imitation was in- 
 tended as a compliment^ my thanks are due 
 for the flattering suggestion. 
 
 Those who read for mere amusement, 
 may wish the digressive parts of my wri- 
 tings were shorter, and less frequent. 
 
 Those 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 Those who despise fable, that the pages 
 were filled with precept upon precept ; but 
 as I am actuated by the blended design of 
 intsriicting and entertaining the young in- 
 dividuals of my sex, it is indispensably 
 necessary that I likewise blend a short, 
 but consistent system of morality, with 
 probable story. 
 
 Let not therefore the grave be offended 
 with my gravity; nor the gay with my 
 seriousness. 
 
 Let not the kind, the benevolent, think 
 me severe; for it is tJieir principles and 
 sentiments that I ardently — most ardently 
 — wish to disseminate and advance. 
 
 The love of the Creator, and of His 
 Created, can never be separated; for how 
 can we Adore the Firsts if we hate and 
 despise the other 1 
 
 My 
 
My belief is, that after a few swiftly 
 passing years^ we shall all meet in another 
 World,, and my wish — that in This we may 
 endeavour to acquire, and delight to live 
 in^ those habits of Love and Harmony 
 which will qualify us for the Mansions of 
 true Peace and Blessedness. 
 
 EUGENIA DE ACTON. 
 
THE 
 
 NUNS OF THE ©ESEET. 
 
 — ••••{^^•••••^ 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 The Mona8tery,'^The Ninth Tower. -^The 
 
 Cavity, — The Lady Abbess. — And the 
 
 contrasted Priests, 
 
 ^' iJEEP in the bosom of a wood/' al- 
 most impervious to the rays of the sun, 
 skirting a desert of considerable extent, 
 "vvhich was bounded by the shores of the 
 Eastern Ocean, stood a Monastery that for 
 ages had been in vain buffetted by the 
 rough hand of Time, to which its sturdy 
 base and gigantic battlements seemed to 
 bid defiance, and wager to survive. 
 
 VOL. I. B These 
 
2 . THE NUXS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 This terrific building, now the residence 
 of peace, enveloping female youth, beauty, 
 and innocence, was erst a hostile fortress, 
 thundering cannon from its towers in 
 threats of destruction to every living 
 creature who rashly hazarded an approach 
 to its environs. Its form was that of a 
 Castle, but in many respects it differed 
 from the generality of those in this king- 
 dom. By connoisseurs in architecture, it 
 was deemed the father of these buildings 
 in our island. 
 
 In its front, over a wide-arched gateway 
 of massive strength, arose a soaring turret, 
 towering the lofty wood by which the 
 Castle was surrounded, and giving a view, 
 over the desert, of the neighbouring ocean's 
 foaming surge. 
 
 The walls of this edifice were upwards 
 of fifty feet in height, and ten in thickness. 
 It was ornamented by nine tov/ers, which 
 arose sixteen feet above the walls, one of 
 which (many have trembled at naming it) 
 was, in former ages, termed the watch- 
 tower. 
 
THE ^a^MS OF THE ©SSjERT= ^ 
 
 towel*, as appeared hj several records 
 /ound in old chests in the Castle, but at 
 this period it was better known by the 
 appellation of the Ninth Tower; a sound 
 of imp<^itj of horror^ of dismay to all 
 who knew the Castle, now denominated 
 the Monastery, within the circular walls 
 of which was an area that measured up- 
 wards of an acre. 
 
 The ninth tower, which fronted the tur- 
 ret over the gateway, had something in 
 its appearance that differed from the rest 
 of the building. At its base was a cavity, 
 from which frequently issued the most 
 terrible noises; sometimes like the roar- 
 ings of ravenous beasts, sometimes like 
 distant screams, and sometimes (but that 
 was not frequent) like sweet sounds of 
 music. 
 
 Tradition said that the music always 
 commenced on the birthday of Father 
 Anthony, who, according to the same 
 authority, was deep learned in the myste- 
 ries of the ninth tower ; but whether this- 
 
 B ^ had 
 
4 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 had any truth to support it, we do not 
 pretend to ascertain. Certain it is that 
 this cavity was thrice attempted to be stop- 
 ped, but without effect ; as the ground 
 around the tower seemed to tremble under 
 the feet of the workmen, and the last time 
 the attempt was made, it burst open with 
 a loud report just as the work was finished ; 
 and one of the labourers afBrmed that he 
 saw flashes of fire within, and that he 
 received a stroke on one side of his head, 
 which levelled him with the ground. 
 
 This cavity was at the foot of the ninth 
 tower, within the area; and it is a truths 
 that neither flowers, nor grass, nor any 
 kind of herb would grow near the spot, 
 and that its roarings were oftentimes very 
 tremendous. Its size was about six inches 
 in diameter. 
 
 The Lady Abbess who governed this 
 Convent at the period from which we date 
 our annals, was named Marion Elvyns. 
 She was of an easy temper, with moderate 
 good sense> and sincere in her professions 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT, 5 
 
 of religion. She was said to be the niece 
 of her predecessor^ but there were those 
 who were convinced of her standing in a 
 nearer degree of relationship ; of which 
 truth the person whose name shall next 
 ensue, was one existing witness. The 
 superintending Priests were Father Over- 
 don and Father Clement — two men as 
 totally opposite as any two who ever lived 
 under the same meridian. 
 
 Father Clement was sweet and mild as 
 Thomas a Kempis. Father OverJon was 
 of the school of Saint Athanasius; very 
 cordially damning every one who differed 
 from himself in a modification of opinion. 
 
 We cannot give a stronger instance of 
 the contrast of sentiment which these two 
 Fathers adopted, than by transcribing the 
 following compositions, written upon a 
 threatened invasion from a neio:hbourino: 
 State, 
 
 b3 ^^Oh 
 
" Oh Thou great and gracious feather 
 of all mankind ! hear the prayers of Thy 
 children in this day of peril and danger ! 
 To Thee let us look for deliverance from 
 the distresses with which our nation is at 
 this time threatened ! Make us to know 
 assuredly that Thou rulest in the earth; 
 and though for our transgressions Thoii 
 jtiayst suffer us to be afraid^ yet may Thy 
 mercy spare, and sanctify to us even our 
 present troubles ; that, examining our 
 hearts, and forsaking the errors of cur 
 ways, v;e may rejoic-e in I'hy returning 
 favour, and hereafter live in the light of 
 Thy countenance. Unite the hearts of 
 Thy people in righteousness and holy love, 
 that all discord, and bitterness^ and enmity 
 may be done away ! 
 
 '^ Inspire the counsels of those who are 
 appointed to govern in the land, that to 
 the utmost of their power, they may pro- 
 mote the public good, and in producing 
 that great end^ set forth Thy goodness to 
 Thy people. 
 
 '' May 
 
*rHE NUNS 01'' THE DESERT, 7 
 
 " May Thy mercy preserve^ through the 
 remainder of his days^ the King of these 
 realms^ who by Thy permission hath so 
 long reigned over us. Conduct him^ in 
 Thy own good time^ in peace to his gravCj 
 and from an earthly crown guide him to 
 the possession of one which fadeth not 
 away. 
 
 " Bless these dominions with the con- 
 tinuance of the true Christian religion^ 
 with its liberty, and its laws. Unite us in 
 one pure faith, and lead us to the Eternal 
 Bkssednesc^, which by the Great Dispenser 
 of the Gospel^ Thou hast assured us shall 
 be prepared for those who look to Thee — - 
 who seek to do Thy will in promoting the 
 beneiit of their fellov/s, in obedience ta 
 the precepts, and in conformity to the 
 practice of Jesus Christ ^e Righteous, 
 Who has promised us the aid of Thy Holy 
 Spirit, to assist us in every good work ! 
 
 '' Amen/* 
 
 R 4 When 
 
S THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 When the foregoing supplication to th« 
 All-merciful Supreme, which we need nol 
 say was the pure breathings of Father 
 Clement's spirit, met the eye of Father 
 Overdon, he anathematized the author in 
 language too horrible to be related, or- 
 dered it instantly to be suppressed, and 
 wrote the followinsr. 
 
 *' Oh God ! who knowest that w^e are in 
 the right, and that our enemies are all in 
 the road to everlasting destruction, we 
 call upon Thee to shew Thy judgments 
 upon them in the face of all mankind, by 
 driving them without pity, and without 
 mercy to inevitable perdition. Blind their 
 eyes, and bow down their backs, that they 
 may not be able to see and to repent ! 
 Give them over to Satan, the chief of fallen 
 spirits, by cutting them off in the very 
 height of their most grievous iniquities, 
 fest, by allowing them time to know and 
 to forsake their errors^ Thou shouldst have 
 
 compassion 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 9 
 
 compassion on them^ and save them from 
 the bottomless pit, which for their mani- 
 fold transgressions against us. Thy chosen 
 people and faithful servants, will, we trust, 
 be their final inheritance. 
 
 '' Increase in the Rulers of this land that 
 fervent zeal for the strict religion and 
 habits of our forefathers, that they may 
 know no moderation, till they shall have 
 rooted out all those who do not with voice 
 and heart comply with, and reverence our 
 holy customs, and do obeisance to us. 
 Thine anointed servants, who ou^ht to be 
 accounted Thy Vicegerents upon earth, 
 forasmuch as we honour Thee by our holy 
 words, as well as glorify Thee by the 
 riohteousness of our wavs: beino; willino^ 
 to undergo any severity, and to endure 
 every mortification, to prove ourselves the 
 stewards of Thy grace : therefore to us 
 the people ought to give of the good 
 things of this life, that v/e have health and 
 strength to preach Thy word to the 
 nation ! 
 
 B 5 '' And 
 
10 TllE KUNS Of TfiE DESEKT. 
 
 ^' x\ni next to our Holy Order^ bless 
 our Sovereign the King^ that he may 
 support the sons of the Church; and when 
 Thou takest him atvay^ raise another in his 
 place^ to do Thy work in the land ! 
 
 "' And all this we trust w^e shall receive 
 St Thy hands — 
 
 The conclusion of this prayer^ or rather 
 requisition^ was so presuming, so nearly 
 tantamount to blasphemy, that w^e should 
 shudder at only transcribing it. What we 
 have already given, sufFxiently exemplifies 
 the tharac tears of the tv/o Fathers. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 1 1 
 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 The Nii?fs of the Desert, — The Portress. — fry 
 
 Tower. — Mr. Hayes, — Eliza. — Beatrice, 
 
 — Mr. Blenheim, -^Mr, Selwyn, — ; 
 
 And the. Death of a good Man». 
 
 W E have taken considerable pains to^ 
 gain information of the time when our 
 Castle was turned into a Monastery^ but 
 without success. Doubtless it was long 
 before the period to which we are arrived^ 
 when there were immured within its relent- 
 less walls eighteen of the Sisterhood^, who 
 were distinguished by the appellation of the 
 Nuns of the Desert^ with upwards of twenty 
 boarders^ and several novices. The name 
 
 3 6 - of. 
 
Ig THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 of the portress was Martha Hood. She 
 entered the Convent at an early age^ and 
 was soon in peculiar favour with the 
 Abbess^ the secret of whose birth she 
 discovered by an extraordinary accident^ 
 and knew who was her father. 
 
 Beyond the boundaries of the extensive 
 wood which concealed the Monastery from 
 unhallowed vulgar gaze^ stood a habita- 
 tion which pleased every beholder. It was 
 at once simple and magnificent^ with gar- 
 dens and groves aroundj that recalled to 
 idea the fabled scenes of Fairy-land. The 
 possessor of this little paradise^ with seve- 
 ral thousand surrounding acres of ground^ 
 was an old bachelor of the name of Hayes^ 
 whose pride and pleasure concentered in 
 rendering his habitation, which he deno- 
 n^inated Ivy Tower^ the admiration of the 
 age in which he lived. 
 
 This gentleman had two female cousinSj 
 one by his father's side, the other by that 
 of his mother^ both sev'eral years youngei; 
 than himself; and as he had no nearer 
 
 relations. 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 13 
 
 relations^ and they were orphans^ he con- 
 sidered them as his children. Eliza Hayes^ 
 the daughter of his father's brother^ was a 
 genteel, elegant girlj perfectly sweet in 
 her disposition and temper/ with a good 
 understanding. At an early age, she w^as 
 married, with the approbation of her 
 cousin, to a gentleman whose name was 
 Blenheim — a man in every respect suitable 
 to the lady of his choice, being pleasing 
 in person, handsom.e in features, excellent 
 in disposition, and elevated in under- 
 standing. 
 
 Mr. Blenheim had an estate of about 
 two thousand a year, and Mr. Hayes gave 
 his fair cousin ten thousand pounds, with 
 which they entered life in a style of gen- 
 tility ; and being attached to each other 
 with the most tender affection, their pro- 
 spects afforded a view of more than com- 
 mon felicity 
 
 The other cousin of Mr. Hayes, who was 
 the daughter of his mother's sister, was 
 named Beatrice Milford. In beauty she 
 
 exceeded 
 
14 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 exceeded Eliza Hayes — now Mrs. Blen- 
 heiT,Tij but was greatly her inferior in 
 every amiable quality. In understandings 
 if a superabundance of cunning can merit 
 that distinction^ she was her equal, and 
 by superficialists might have been deemed 
 superior, having the art of appearing to 
 know much more than she really did, while 
 the m.odesty, not bashfulness, of Mrs. 
 Blenheim led her rather to suppress than 
 to exhibit her intrinsic excellence. 
 
 Mr. Hayes, whose judgment was strong 
 and silent, formed a due estimate of the 
 characters of the young ladies ; of course 
 imbibed a partiality for Mrs. Blenheim, 
 which, however, he never on any occa- 
 sion, permitted to appear, lest it should 
 create a jealousy between his kinswomen, 
 who, though they did not stand in the 
 slightest degree of relationship, lie used 
 to encourage to term each other cousin. 
 
 Soon after the marriao-e of Mrs. Blen- 
 
 o 
 
 heim, Beatrice was addressed by Mr. 
 
 Selwyn, to whom, with the consent of 
 
 3 Mr. 
 
THE KUXS OF THE DESERT. 15 
 
 Mr Hayes^ and ten thousand pounds^ she 
 in the course of a few v/eeks gave her hand, 
 and as much of her heart as such a young 
 woman could spare from more selfish 
 considerations. 
 
 As Mrs. Blenheim was the orIv surviving- 
 paternal relation of Mr. Hayes^ she was of 
 course his heir at law ; therefore he always 
 made a public declaration that he cer- 
 tainly should leave her his estate^ but that 
 he should give a larger share of his personal 
 property to Mrs. Selv/yn than he should to 
 her ; and when the two young ladies were 
 married, he repeated that declaration to 
 their husbands, that there might not be 
 any cause for subsequent disappointed 
 expectation. 
 
 In the short interval between the mar^ 
 liage of Eliza and Beatrice, the latter 
 employed all her powers in an endeavour 
 to persuade Mr. Hayes to make her an 
 equal sharer in all his property, but with- 
 out effect ; his partiality as well as his 
 sense of justice, (for all the fortune had 
 
 descended 
 
16 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 descended from his fathei^'s fsither) keeping 
 him firm to his prior determination. 
 
 However^ in .process of time^ when Mrs. 
 Blenheim was mother to twq^ and Mrs. 
 Selwyn to three children^ Mr. Hayes had 
 a paralytic stroke^ from which he never 
 perfectly recovered ; at wliich period Mr. 
 Blenheim had taken his Lady to Green- 
 bridgCj on account of a weakness^ for 
 which the waters of that place were 
 strongly recommended. 
 
 It was now that Mr, and Mrs. Selwyn 
 exerted all their address to effect their 
 mutual wishes of inheriting Ivy Tower ; for 
 that was one object of their ambition. 
 Mr. Selwyn had a large estate ; but had it 
 been treUedj it would not have satisfied 
 his rapacity. Riches, honours, titles, 
 power, were what he determined, at almost 
 any rate, to attain, and his Lady seconded 
 his views. 
 
 The words of Mr. Selwyn were smooth 
 as oil ; his countenance was keen and cut- 
 ting when attentively observed. Every 
 
 feature 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 17 
 
 feature was big with design^ and the index 
 in his face gave a miscellany of mistrust^ 
 caution^ and fraudulence^ prefaced by a 
 courage which might not unaptly have 
 been denominated ferocity ; yet with all 
 this^ he affected even a cliildisli ignorance 
 of the ways of the worlds lamented his 
 native indiscretion^ and observed that his 
 foolish heart was ever on his lips. Such 
 was Mr. Selwyn. 
 
 And such was his wife; while Mr. and 
 Mrs. Blenheim were so totally void of 
 guile^ so absolutely destitute of suspicion^ 
 that they credulously admitted the asser- 
 tions of the gentleman respecting his too 
 great unreserve^ and deemed him a good- 
 naturedj unthinking fellow^ Mrs. Selwyn 
 frequently reproaching him with being 
 sadly incautious and indiscreet. — — Their 
 talents had now full scope. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Blenheim, who were sin- 
 cerely attached to Mr. Hayes, read 
 with due concern the account they re- 
 ceived from the pen of Mrs. Selwyn, of 
 
 Mr. 
 
18 tti£ NUKS OF THE DESERt- 
 
 Mr. Hayes having been slightlij indisposed^ 
 and wrote in answer^ that if his indispo- 
 sition increased^ they would instantly 
 return to Ivetsey^ the town in which they 
 all resided^ and earnestly entreated an im- 
 mediate reply. 
 
 The contents of this letter^ which Mrs. 
 Selwyn received in the presence of Mr. 
 Hayes^ she with amazing promptitude^ 
 thus parodied. 
 
 '^ I do tiot wonder at your 
 being alarmed at such a stroke m poor 
 Cousin John has received ; but what can 
 you expect from a man at hb time of 
 life?— If he should grow worse^ let me 
 hear from you^ as I should deem it expe- 
 dient for Mr. Blenheim and myself to 
 attend his funeral^ were it but for the 
 sake of decency. 
 
 " I am just going to dress for a ball, 
 which Mr. Blenheim gives this evening, 
 
 in. 
 
THE I^VISS OF THfi KESfiRT. 19 
 
 in honour of my birth-day ; you will 
 therefore excuse my brevity, and with 
 our kind loA^e to our poor old cousin^ and 
 due remembrances to Mr. Selwyn, believe 
 nie 
 
 '' Your's affectionately^ 
 
 ^' Eliza Blenheim, 
 
 " Little Jack and Aurora are both well 
 and lively, and send kisses to vour \Vil« 
 liam* Sophia^ and Emily." 
 
 When Mrs. Selwyn had thus mhread the 
 anxiously kind letter of Mri, Blenheim^ 
 which was the sincere effusion of an alfec« 
 tionate heart, nhe hastily rumpled it in 
 her hand in an afiectcd passion, and threw 
 it into the fire, at the same time most ad- 
 mirably acting a shower of tears, and with 
 seeming unguardedness, uttered some mys- 
 terious expressions relative to female 
 hypocrisy. 
 
 Not 
 
^ so I'Hfi NUKS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Not to tire our readers with unnecessaiy 
 prolixity^ the good Mr. Hayes was discon- 
 certed by this suppositious unkind letter 
 from his darling Eliza, whom he much 
 wished to see; and being rather injured in 
 his mental faculties by his malady^ he was 
 so impressed by Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn, the 
 wife acting by the husband's directions, 
 of the deceit and want of affection in Mrs. 
 Blenheim, that he actually gava directions 
 for a new wilL which would almost have 
 disinherited his quondam favourite; but 
 before he had sufficiently arranged his be- 
 quests, he was removed from trouble: 
 for wa hesitate not to pronounce that, 
 good man as he was, his sorrows ended 
 with his respirations. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
\h 
 
 TH£ NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Contrasted sorrow.-— The Will. — Sophia and 
 Einili/ Selwi/n consigned to the Cloister, 
 
 iVl OST sincerely great was the affliction 
 of Mrs. Selwyn at the demise of her paren- 
 tal relation 'because he died with an 
 
 altered will. Had her wishes in that great 
 point been effected^ she would have had 
 sufficient exercise for even all her art, to 
 have suppressed within decent bounds the 
 exuberance of her joyful transport. 
 
 '' Could not this cursed accident be 
 remedied ?'' asked she ol" her husband. 
 
 If 
 
 bfass^. 
 
2^ THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 ^' If Mr. Elliot had received proper in- 
 structions/' he replied^ '' the affair could 
 easily have been managed; but he is such 
 
 a d d scrupulous devil^ he will not be 
 
 persuaded to attest what uoe know was the 
 old fellow's intention ; and the less^ because 
 
 he is so d d fond of the Blenheims^ and 
 
 that was the reason why I recommended 
 his making the will, as I thought it would 
 preclude all suspicion of w^hat queer folks 
 term 3. juggle." 
 
 Much more passed on this subject be- 
 tween Selwyn and his helpmeet^ and they 
 had almost persuaded each other to believe 
 their case not desperate/ when all their 
 arranoements were thrown into disorder 
 by the unexi>€cted appearance of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Blenheim. 
 
 The meeting between these two families 
 was on both sides sincerely sorrowful — 
 Mr. Blenheim being concerned, and Mrs. 
 Blenheim inconsolable, that they did not 
 arrive before the decease of their most 
 truly valued friend ; the other couple, 
 
 that 
 
 **^^^^^^»^:.^^*^4-:jf^^ 
 
' THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. ^J 
 
 that they arrived at a period so inimical to 
 their desions. 
 
 o 
 
 The funeral and the usually accompany- 
 ing 4t ca'ieras we pass over^ till the reading 
 the will of Mr. Hayes^ who had bequeathed 
 all his real estates^ which were about six 
 thousand pounds per annum^ to Mrs, 
 Blenheim^ during her life ; after her de- 
 cease, if he survived her, to her husband 
 for his life; then to their children in such 
 divisions as the last dated will of either 
 should direct. If they should die without 
 descendants, then, under the same re- 
 strictions, to Mrs. and Mr. Selwyn, and 
 their family. If both his cousins should 
 depart this life without heirs, the will of 
 JVIrs- Blenheim to dispose of the estate. 
 
 The personal property, which was very 
 considerable, to be divided ( after the pay- 
 ment of several legacies amongst his de- 
 pendants, &c.) between Eliza and Beatrice, 
 hut not in equal proportions, the latter 
 being to have three-fourths of the whole, 
 in consideration of her not having any 
 
 claim 
 
 "t 1 1 ir I jMir ir''^ -- "'^' 
 
^4 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 claim but a reversionary one to the real 
 estate^ over which the possessor was to 
 have as much power respecting timber, 
 mineSj Sec. as if it was not entailed, 
 
 Such was the will of Mr. Hayes, which 
 had been made by Mr. Elliot so clear, 
 distinct, and decisive, that there was not one 
 clause on which to found a debate — an 
 exemplary instance of the union of law 
 and probity ! May the connection be uni- 
 versal and indissoluble ! — To which may 
 every British practitioner give his Amen ! 
 
 We are now to suppose the families 
 settled in their respective habitations — Mr. 
 and Mrs. Blenheim, with two children, 
 John and Aurora, at Ivy Tower — Mr. and 
 Mrs. Selwyn, with their three young ones, 
 William, Sophia, and Emily, at Beech 
 Grove ; and these were all the progeny of 
 the two fair cousins of the deceased truly 
 benevolent Mr. Hayes. 
 
 The smooth artifices of the Selwyns, and 
 the too unsuspecting temper of the Blen- 
 heims, preserved between the two families 
 
 that 
 
 .>'A^^ 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 55 
 
 that familiar intercourse which originated 
 in the early association between the ladies ; 
 else the dissimilitude of disposition would 
 have precluded any connection beyond 
 that of common civility. In the vicinage 
 the Selwyns were detested as much as the 
 Blenheims were adored. 
 
 William^ the eldest of the children at 
 Beech Grove, had the face of his father, 
 and the disposition of both parents, of 
 whom he was the darling. Sophia, the 
 eldest daughter, had her mother's features^ 
 but a mind totally opposite, being gentle, 
 soft, and sweet. Emily, the youngest, re- 
 sembled her father in appearance, though 
 as unlike him in disposition as Sophia was 
 to her mother. She was lively and quick, 
 with a heart open and affectionate. 
 
 In the rising loveliness of her daughters, 
 Mrs. Selwyn, who was excessively vain of 
 her personal charms, saw future rivals of 
 her beauty, and centering all her little 
 stock of native affection in her son, (next 
 to impossible as we hope it will be deemed 
 
 VOL. I. c by 
 
^6 THE NUNS OF THE DESEET. 
 
 by most of our readers) actually began to 
 hate them; and that she might not be 
 tormented with continually hearing their 
 praises resounded by visitors who intended 
 to gratify her supposed maternal fondness^ 
 sent them to be educated with the Nuns of 
 THE Desert. 
 
 It was long before this period^ that the old 
 Abbess, after a life of immaculate purity, 
 at least in the opinion of the public, and 
 within a short time of the death of holy 
 Father Anthony, whose loss she could not 
 survive, left this scene of trial, frailtij, 
 penitence, and mortification. Upon her 
 decease. Sister Marion, by her particular 
 recommendation, which intimated that she 
 was of noble, indeed of almost royal ex- 
 traction, though her birth must ever 
 remain a secret, was, at an earlier age 
 than usual, chosen Lady Superior ; an 
 office which she executed with true honour 
 and faithfulness. 
 
 Leaving little Sophia and Emily Selwyn 
 w^ith THE Nuns of the Desert^ we will 
 
 reconvey 
 4 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. §7 
 
 reconvey our ideas to Ivy Towei% where the 
 sun of prosperity^ made doubly bright by 
 the all-vivifying rays of perfect content, 
 shone in its brightest lustre ; their un- 
 bounded attachment to each other, their 
 equal affection for their two lovely chil- 
 dren, being a source of the highest delight 
 mortals can experience. 
 
 Throughout the parish of Ivetsey, their 
 names were always pronounced with love 
 and reverence, and every one seemed 
 gratified by their notice. Their children 
 were trained in the habits of their parents; 
 and their beauty, which certainly was of 
 no common kind, was less the theme of 
 general observation than their affectionate 
 sweetness of manners. 
 
 c g CHAP, 
 
2S THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Deprivation of CIiildren.-^Thc Commencement 
 
 of a foreign Tour. — The Formation of a 
 
 Plan. — The Introduction of a little 
 
 Villain.— A Removal. — A Legacy, 
 
 — The Half-sister . — A Death. 
 
 — And the twin Brothers, 
 
 vJ^F shortj very short continuance was 
 that bright ray of felicity which gilded the 
 hemisphere of Ivy Tower. On a sudden 
 the clouds blackened, the tempest was 
 pendant, and the thunder burst over their 
 heads. In one week they were deprived 
 of both their children ; the first being car- 
 ried off by an inflammation in the lungs, 
 
 and 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 29 
 
 and the other by a river, which ran at the 
 bottom of the garden. 
 
 Most dreadful was the stroke to the 
 distracted parents! — It was more than they 
 could support. The spirits and constitu- 
 tion of both gave way^, and for several 
 weeks the lives of both were despaired of 
 by several physicians. During the period 
 of their illness^ Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn 
 conducted themselves with the most per- 
 fect propriety. They were attentive, but 
 not affectedly officious, and Mrs. Blenheim 
 was never more composed than when Mrs, 
 Selwyn was by her bedside. 
 
 What passed in the minds of the pro- 
 sperous family, our readers may conjecture, 
 as, except Mrs. Blenheim should have any 
 more children, (which as upwards of three 
 years had passed since the birth of the last, 
 and her constitution, should she recover, 
 would probably be much weakened, was 
 not greatly to be apprehended), they 
 deemed themselves secure of the future 
 
 c 3 possession 
 
3(> THE NUNS OF THE DESEKT. 
 
 possession of Ivy Tower^ and its appur- 
 tenances^ not suifering themselves to 
 doubt of being many years the survivors ; 
 and moreover indulging a hope that by 
 a kind of courteous conduct^ they might 
 be named in the will of one or both for 
 a considerable share of their other 
 property. 
 
 With this vieWj all their address was 
 employed to soften as much as possible 
 the affliction of Mr. and Mrs. Blenheim, 
 whom nevertheless they most cordially 
 wished to see released from all their 
 troubles ; but^ contrary to their expecta- 
 tionSj the strength of constitution sur- 
 mounted the malady of grief^ and in 
 process of time, the mourning pair, still 
 happy in each other, were able to pursue 
 the advice of Doctor Campbell in going to 
 reside two or three years in Montpelier, 
 during which period Mr. Selwyn under- 
 took the stewardship of Mr. Blenheim's 
 estate; and most faithfully, believing he 
 
 was 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 31 
 
 was pursuing his own future interest, did 
 he execute his trust. 
 
 Once in a month the two families ex- 
 changed communications^ and during 
 several weeks the Selwyns were constantly 
 mortified with the repeated intelligence of 
 Mrs. Blenheim's amendment ; and at length 
 (which almost petrified the readers) that 
 she was again enceiente. But they were 
 revived by the next letter^ which an- 
 nounced her having miscarried. However^ 
 they were so much alarmed by the pro- 
 bability that a new young family might 
 frustrate all their hope^ that the crafty 
 gentleman began to turn his invention to 
 the possibility of enjoying the estate^, to 
 the prejudice of any child that might be 
 born abroad^ (in case he himself should 
 survive the parents), on pretence of an 
 imposition, founded upon the adoption 
 only of a child, in order to defraud his 
 family, that, as he meant to affirm his 
 having proof of, being the intention of 
 
 c 4 Mn 
 
 fc'-" 
 
32 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Blenheim in residing so 
 long in a foreign country. 
 
 This plan^ digested day after day^ be- 
 came so much a favourite^ that he deter- 
 mined to commit it to paper, for the 
 instruction and benefit of his son, should 
 he leave him a child ; and if he lived, he 
 intended to unfold to him the arcana of 
 the business, as soon as his reason should 
 be sufficiently mature to receive the in- 
 formation; which he afterwards did with so 
 much success, that at the early age of 
 sixteen, the little villain was as ripe for 
 executing the designs of his parents, as 
 those parents were subtle in their con- 
 trivance. 
 
 At length there was a cessation in the 
 correspondence between the Ivetsey fami- 
 lies. Month after month, and then year 
 after year passed, without Mr. Selwyn's 
 receiving any account of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Blenheim ; and in process of time, the very 
 apprehensions of their being still in 
 
 existence 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 33 
 
 existence died away^ till fluctuating hope 
 was succeeded by imaginary security. The 
 Selwyns were now in their glory. 
 
 The name of Blenheim was rapidly ad- 
 vancing to the shades of oblivion. But 
 for its retention in the minds of odd kind 
 of people, it w^ould no more have been 
 remembered. 
 
 There are in the world a race of beings 
 so inimical to prosperity (however 
 elevated) which is not the consequence of 
 virtue,, that it is amazing the legislature 
 does not enact a law to silence their oppo- 
 sition to so many of his Majesty's right 
 honourable subjects. It must be acknow- 
 leda'ed that the rulers of the land have 
 attenuated the thread of power to a 
 pretty tolerable length, in decreeing that, 
 in some cases, the divine principle of 
 TRUTH shall be deemed a libel ; vet that is 
 not an efficient antidote to the obloquy 
 w^hich, by the random arrows of enthu- 
 siastic moralists, is sometimes throw^n i;pon 
 their Graces — his Lordship^ her Ladyship 
 
 c 5 — or 
 
54 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 or a Right Reverend Father ; nor would it 
 have screened either Mr, or Mrs. Selwyn 
 from the most opprobrious epithets — epi- 
 thetS;, indeed, which they did not practi- 
 colly merit ; for Fame with her brazen, and 
 often lying trumpet proclaimed them mur- 
 derers — a charge which we are happy to 
 pronounce had not, in actual truth, a 
 foundation. 
 
 The Selwyns, we have said, were now in 
 their glory. But that glory was not yet 
 arrived to its zenith. 
 
 In process of time, Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn 
 deemed it expedient to remove their 
 household from Beech Grove to Ivy Tower; 
 soon after which, an elderly gentlewoman 
 of the name of Marchmont, distantly re- 
 lated to the lady last mentioned, died, and 
 left Sophia and Emily Selwyn each ten 
 thousand pounds, to be paid into their 
 own hands when they should respectively 
 attain the age of eighteen. 
 
 With this bequest Mrs. Selwyn was much 
 dissatisfied, as it seemed a bar to her 
 
 determination 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 35 
 
 determination of making Nuns of both her 
 daughters ; firsts that their appearance in 
 the world might not make her to be rec- 
 koned an old woman ; secondly^ and 
 chiefly with the father^, that they might 
 not have any expectation of such a fortune 
 from him as might injure the estate of his 
 son : and now he formed a design to 
 appropriate the legacy above mentioned^ 
 to the use of that son^ by insisting upon 
 his daughters taking the veil^ as soon as 
 the voungest should arrive at the proper 
 age to be admitted into the Sisterhood, 
 rightly judging that if Sophia v^as first 
 immured^ she would endeavour to prevent 
 Emily from rendering herself as wretched 
 as she would soon find herself. 
 
 Soon after this proceeding was deter- 
 rnined upon^ the half-sister of Mr. Selwyn 
 (then living in a distant part of Ireland) 
 sent to request he would attend her in that 
 kingdom^ as she believed herself hasten- 
 ing to another world, and wished to 
 entrust to his protection her tvvo twin 
 
 c 6 sons. 
 
o6 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 sons, Horatio and Ferdinand^ as she could 
 not gain any intelligence of her husband. 
 
 This lady, at eighteen, had married a 
 gentleman of the name of Congreve, whose 
 estate, which was considerable, had been 
 entailed by his grandfather upon his eldest 
 son ; and being a man of expence, soon 
 dissipated his Lady's fortune, upon which, 
 not being empowered to mortgage any 
 part of his property, he applied to Mr, 
 Selwyn to assist him, promising to re- 
 trench, and as soon as possible to repay 
 him the sum of which he requested the 
 loan : but Mr. Selwyn, not satisfied with 
 giving a simple refusal, jyolitically used 
 such language as could not but produce a 
 quarrel, as a preventative to any future 
 application ; whereupon Mr. Congreve 
 was necessitated to leave the kingdom, 
 after which (one letter excepted, that 
 announced his arrival in the West Indies), 
 no account of him had ever been received. 
 
 Actuated by a hope of gain, Mr. Selwyn 
 repaired to Ireland, saw his sister heave 
 
 her 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 37 
 
 her parting sigh, and took her two sons^ 
 the only survivors of half a dozen, into 
 his protection, and returned to Ivy Tower, 
 from which period he neither received nor 
 souo^ht for anv intellio^ence of their 
 father. 
 
 Horatio and Ferdinand Conirreve were 
 born within the same hour ; and from the 
 inattention of the attendants, all under 
 great alarm for the mother, who was pro- 
 nounced by the accoucheur to be in immi- 
 nent danger, it never could be ascertained 
 which of the two first opened his eyes 
 upon the light of our hemisphere ; there- 
 fore, as it was necessary to establish the 
 seniority of one of them, the father drew 
 lots for his sons, and that of precedency 
 fell upon Horatio. It was intended that 
 this circumstance should be kept a pro- 
 found secret, lest it should occasion future 
 litigation; but the servants, who knew the 
 original incertitude of eldership, retailed 
 the story, till it was officiously told to the 
 boys, whose disinterested, generous nature 
 
 did 
 
38 THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 did not care a straw for the acres^ so long 
 as they were happy in each other's 
 society. 
 
 Never w^as there more true congeniality 
 in the minds of two human beings than 
 in those of our twia Horatio and Ferdi- 
 nand. If one was cheerful^ the other was 
 gay ; if one was sorrowful^ the other was 
 sad^ nor could either enjoy any things of 
 which the other did not partake. 
 
 In their persons and in their tempers 
 there was some difference. Horace^ as he 
 was usually termed^ was a rosy hardy 
 little rogue^ with light hair and blue eyes, 
 full of mischief^ and caring for scarce any 
 body but his brother. 
 
 Ferdinand's eyes were ha*zel ; his hair 
 brown ; and his temper^ though full of 
 spirit;, rather more considerate than that 
 of Horace^ with whom to think and to act, 
 was the sam.e thing. If, indeed, Horatio 
 was in danger Ferdinand's consideration 
 was lost. He v/ould have darted through 
 fire to have saved him ; and once when 
 
 the 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 39 
 
 the former had been guilty of some offence, 
 for which his tutor struck him with a cane, 
 the other flew to the corrector^ and gave 
 him a slap on his face. It was now Ferdi- 
 nand's turn to be corrected^ upon which 
 Horatio wrapped his arms about him, and 
 vowed that he should not be hurt, for 
 that he had rather his own back should be 
 flayed, than his brother should be touched ; 
 while the other insisted upon it that he 
 would be beat, and something like a quar- 
 rel ensued about a title to the flagellation : 
 upon which the tutor, whose action spake 
 his heart, took them both in his arms, and 
 kissed them — tears straying down his cheeks 
 -—the two boys weeping in unison. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
^0 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Tht Num of the Desert. — Fricnchhip in a Nuji- 
 
 ntry. — A Description of the Selwi/ns. — 
 
 And the Character of the Congreves. 
 
 F. 
 
 ASSING over an interval of several 
 years, in which nothing occurred worthy 
 of note, we have wafted our ideas to the 
 period which completed the eighteenth 
 year of William Selwyn, the sixteenth of 
 his sister Sophia, and the fifteenth of 
 Emily ; about which era our twin brothers 
 had numbered nineteen annual returns of 
 spring. 
 
 The Convent of the Desert is now for a 
 ^Ime to be our scene of action, as in that 
 
 consecrated 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 41 
 
 consecrated rotund many strange and mar- 
 vellous events took place, and the J^nth 
 Toiver exercised its terrific prowess, with 
 all its pristine wonted effect, upon the 
 hon'or-stricken witnesses. 
 
 Five years previous to the period to 
 which we are arrived, a superb carriage, 
 with shades over the armorial honours 
 painted upon its sides, drawn by six foam- 
 ing horses, and attended by servants out 
 of livery, was driven to the gate of the 
 Monastery. In the carriage was a hand- 
 some man, in the dress, and with the 
 manners of a gentleman, who sat between 
 two beautiful girls, apparently about ten 
 or twelve years of age. 
 
 Summoning the Lady Abbess to the 
 parlour, he informed her that he was 
 charged with the care of two daughters of 
 a Nobleman, of the first rank in the king- 
 dom, whose marriage had never been 
 publicly proclaimed, nor perhaps (reasons 
 of State militating against a disclosure) 
 ever would be ; that therefore the young 
 
 ladies 
 
42 THE NUNS OF THE DESE?iT. 
 
 ladies were consigned to her protection 
 for a term of years ; and that if it should 
 not be found eligible to replace them in- 
 the worlds at the expiration of a given 
 period, they were to enter upon their 
 novitiate^ and take the veil ; upon the 
 completion of which event, a noble addi- 
 tion was to be made to the endowment of 
 the Monastery. 
 
 He then presented the Abbess v;ith a 
 handsome sum^ telling her she should see 
 him again upon that day twelvemonth; 
 and when he departed, desired that the 
 young lady with the fine bloom upon her 
 cheekG;, might be called Sister Lavinia, and 
 the other, who was delicately pale^ Sister 
 Seiina. 
 
 It is impossible to form an idea of any 
 tv7o human beings more interesting than 
 Lavinia and Seiina Rosemont; for that their 
 conductor, under ini unctions of secrecy, 
 informed the Lady Al^besswas the name of 
 their mother, who snll retained that of 
 her own family. 
 
 Lavinia, 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 43 
 
 lavinia^ who was the eldest^ had that 
 winning, fascinating kind of beauty which 
 it was impossible to resist. In the first 
 interview she must be loved;, and in every 
 successive one loved still more. Playful 
 and sweet in her disposition, with an 
 astonishing capacity, it is no wonder that 
 she captivated every heart, and retained^ 
 or rather increased her influence with 
 every one wdth whom she resided. In 
 accomplishments she soon excelled, yet 
 was totally unconscious of her superiority. 
 
 Selina was extremely pretty, and equally 
 excellent in disposition. She was soft and 
 pensive, but not depressing ; for her 
 pensiveness did not seem the effect of 
 misfortune or discontent, but 'of gen- 
 tleness. Lavinia was fond of Selina, and 
 Selina reverenced, as well as loved Lavinia, 
 to whom she seemed to look up for pro- 
 tection and comfort. 
 
 The rules of the Convent of the Desert, 
 were more lenient than those of most 
 others in the kingdom. The Nuns indeed 
 
 were 
 
44 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 were immured without intermissive indul- 
 gence^ as also the Novices ; but the boarders 
 were allowed to walk in some pleasure- 
 ground without the walls of the Castle, 
 to visitj when properly attended^ some of 
 the families on the confines of the en- 
 circling forest ; and in the times of vaca- 
 tion^ those whose parents lived at a distance, 
 and who were not allowed to return home, 
 used to be permitted to accept the invi- 
 tations of their more indulged associates, 
 of spending at their parental habitations 
 the weeks of holiday. 
 
 Some fastidious critic, with more pre- 
 cision than genius, may perhaps tell us 
 that we are quite out of rule — that we 
 are mistaken in the customs of Convents, 
 as no such liberties are allowed to cloister- 
 ed females. We have heretofore declared 
 our right to form our own laws in our 
 own realms ; but on this occasion we wave 
 the exertion of that inestimable, inde- 
 feasible privilege, and inform all cavillers 
 that such v/ere the customs of the Convent 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 45 
 
 of the Desert^ as we are in actual posses- 
 sion of some curious annals respecting 
 that once celebrated spot^ of the situation 
 of which we received a succinct account 
 from an accurate and ingenious friend, 
 whose authenticity is unquestionable. 
 
 All ourreaderSj whether male or female^ 
 who have passed any of their days in a 
 public seminary^ will recollect with a 
 smile the juvenile juntos which w^ere 
 formed in their little kingdoms, and well 
 know that lasting friendships have had 
 their origin in such societies. 
 
 The almost instant attachment which 
 struck root in the hearts of Lavinia Rose- 
 mont and Sophia Selwyn was as fervent 
 and as durable, as sudden. Never were 
 two girls endued by nature vnth hearts 
 more congenial. Their wishes and their 
 thoughts were the same. They knew that 
 each loved the other before either had 
 uttered a syllable upon the subject of 
 amity. 
 
 Soon^ 
 
46 ' THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 Soon^ however^ were thejr souls inter- 
 changed by the additional aid of language 
 — soon were they inseparable^ the Lady 
 Abbess^ whose heart was not a stranger to 
 '^ sweet sympathy/' smiling complacently 
 upon their ethereal attachment. 
 
 Selina and Emily^ the two sisters of the 
 two friends^ were as constantly with each 
 other as Lavinia and Sophia^ and they grew 
 in time as much attached^ though of tem- 
 pers totally opposite ; which opposition 
 we have whilom observed is no less pro- 
 ductive of friendship than is similitude. 
 In the unrestrainable gaiety of Emily^ who 
 was an honest little madcap^ the timid 
 Selina found protection. Terrified by 
 every rustlings she seemed secure while 
 under the guardianship of her volatile 
 friend^ who used to create alarm^, that she 
 herself might seem courageous ; but every 
 thing she did^ was done in perfect good- 
 humoured vivacity to enliven the society. 
 Years thus passed away in juvenile 
 
 pleasures. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 47 
 
 pleasures, our young friends improving in 
 grace^, beauty^ and more valuable endow- 
 ments. 
 
 The person who placed Lavinia and 
 Selina in the Convent^ constantly made an 
 annual visit to the Abbess^ at which period 
 he paid for the board of the young ladies ; 
 and latterly intimated that their taking the 
 veil was nearly determined upon, as their 
 father, who, without his father's indul- 
 gence, had not sufficient to establish a 
 household in proper splendour, dared not 
 to ow^n his marriage ; therefore the veil 
 was considered as the best provision that 
 could be made for daughters. 
 
 Sophia and Emily Selwyn were seldom 
 permitted to visit at Ivy Tower; but when 
 the eldest was about eighteerf, they were 
 sent for at one of the vacations, and de- 
 sired to invite to accompany them. Miss 
 Davenport and Miss Littleton, the daugh- 
 ters of two gentlemen in the neighbour- 
 hood ; but these young ladies being pre- 
 engaged^ they requested the Superior to 
 
 pqrmit 
 
48 THE NUKS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 permit their taking the Misses Rosemout, 
 to which she readily assented. 
 
 Behold then our Nuns of the Desert^ 
 after having seldom seen a face but those 
 which they saw every day^ transplanted to 
 Ivy Tower^ the seat of continual amuse- 
 ment and unrestrained gaiety^ where 
 Pleasure held her daily and nocturnal 
 revels^ and which was calculated for the 
 most supreme of worldly delights, but 
 prostituted by the exhibition of such as 
 debase the mind of man ; for its shady 
 walks, its groves, its temples, and other 
 retirements, which ought to have been 
 consecrated by social and friendly endear- 
 ments, by chaste affection, by the exha- 
 lations of a fervid pious mind, witnessed 
 the sacrifice of virtue to vanity, and the 
 triumphs of illicit passion. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn, the exulting master of Ivy 
 Tower, pursued and indulged every species 
 of sensual gratification, to which the bias 
 of his nature directed. Mrs. Selwyn, still 
 handsome, and unrestrained by principle, 
 
 fancied 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 49 
 
 fancied herself the object of universal 
 adoration, and sacrificed, to preserve her 
 imaginary empire over all hearts, every 
 thing that renders a woman estimable. 
 
 William, their darling child, profited, as 
 might be expected, from the example of 
 the dissolute authors of his being. He 
 was handsome and lively, and, had his mind 
 received a proper bent, might have been 
 a champion of Virtue, instead of exhaust- 
 ing his energies in the slavish trammels of 
 Vice, who is painted to look fair, that she 
 may deceive, who saps the foundation of 
 human felicity, who devours while she 
 caresses her votaries. 
 
 Horatio and Ferdinand Congreve, whose 
 property Selwyn was contriving to annex 
 to his own, had been educated with his 
 son, by a private tutor at Ivy Tower, and 
 had mastered every science and every mas- 
 culine accomplishment. In age thev were 
 superior to William Selwvn, who was 
 likewise learned in every thing that renders 
 a young man acceptable in the eyes of a 
 
 ^^OL. I, D fashionable 
 
.50 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 fashionable woman^, but lacked that essen- 
 tial which alone can secure the conquest 
 of a virtuous one — rectitude of sentiment, 
 and integrity of principle. 
 
 William Selwyn was indeed the counter- 
 part of his father, and young as he was, 
 ever kept in view his own separate self- 
 interest, in which he considered as 
 embound his sensual gratification, in the 
 indulgence of which he trampled upon 
 every law both moral and divine; while 
 the young Congreves, whose infant minds 
 had received the culture of a better hand, 
 and who were not nursed in the poisonous 
 bed of parental depravity, spurned at every 
 low, and mean, and sordid passion. 
 
 Generous and noble in their nature, 
 persevering as well as courageous in their 
 habits, they asserted their right to think 
 for themselves ; and, faithful to each other, 
 mutually encouraged the exertion of indi- 
 vidual independence, though they knew 
 nothing of the state of their own finances; 
 Mr. Selwyn often intimating the perplexity 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 51 
 
 of their family affairs^ and lamenting that 
 he should scarce be able to save from the 
 wreck a maintenance for themselves. 
 
 '' Horace/' said Ferdinand to his brother, 
 after one of these declamations of Mr. 
 SelwynX '^ could I but see you fixed in 
 our family mansion with a tolerable com- 
 petence^ I would ask no more, but seek 
 my ow^n future fortune in the army.'* 
 
 '' And you think/' replied the other^ 
 '' that I would sit supinely and ingloriously 
 at my ease^ while you should be toiling in 
 the field of danger? — No ! blasted may I 
 be from the land of existence^ when I 
 prefer not my brother's happiness to my 
 own ! — No ; let us go, let us live, let us 
 die together!" upon which they rushed 
 into each other's arms, and tears strayed 
 down their youthful manly cheeks. 
 
 In Ivetsev and its environs, Horatio and 
 Ferdinand Congreve, scarce considered as 
 relations to the Selwyns, w^ere the themes 
 of every juvenile fair, who universally at 
 Church, or less sacred meetings, used to 
 
 D 2 strive 
 
 
52 THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Strive to catch the attentions of one or 
 other of our twins^ who had too much 
 native fire in their composition to throw 
 water upon the rising glow in the bosoms 
 of the lovely anglers. 
 
 How far they resisted^ or how far they 
 profited by the general prepossession in 
 their favour, it is not our province to 
 enquire. We hope we should not recom- 
 mend them to any of our readers by 
 discovering their frailty ; nor detriment 
 them in their opinion by expressing a 
 hope that honour prevailed over passion, 
 and preserved their integrity untainted. 
 Whether or not they merited the opinion, 
 they had the repute of being dangerous 
 inmates where there were pretty women ; 
 and mothers warned their daughters against 
 the seducing manners of the handsome 
 brothers. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 6$ 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 The four Friends visit Ivy Tower. — Mrs, Selwyn 
 
 refuses to appear. --^The Pleasures 
 
 of a young Party, 
 
 A HE reason of Mr. Selwyn*s summoning 
 his daughters to Ivy Tower at this crisis^ 
 was thatj as the chief families who assisted 
 in the revels of the place^ were then in 
 London, from which scene of gaiety Mr. 
 and Mrs. Selwyn now absented^ Sophia 
 and Emily might make their farewell visit, 
 at a period when there would not be any 
 things but groves and greens to captivate 
 their youthful fancy, and make them wish 
 to live at large ; and the invitation to the 
 
 D 3 two 
 
54 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 two young ladies before mentioned^ to 
 accompany them^ was a piece of policy 
 to connect them more closely in friend- 
 ship^ as he knew that both Mr. Littleton 
 and Mr. Davenport intended their daugh- 
 ters for the veilj and he hoped the romance^ 
 as he termed it^ of female attachment^ 
 
 a 
 
 would facilitate his design of immurino^ 
 Sophia and Emily. 
 
 When, therefore, he saw the Misses Rose- 
 mont, he appeared both surprised and 
 displeased, and imagined that the Abbess^ 
 to whom he wrote the invitation, had 
 made the mistake ; but when Sophia pre- 
 sented Miss Rosemont and Miss Selina as 
 young ladies of distinction, and particular 
 friends of herself and her sister, he dis- 
 sembled his disappointment, and received 
 them with an apparent welcome. 
 
 Not such, hov/ever. Was the conduct of 
 his cara sposa. Chagrined by the appear- 
 ance of such beauty as distinguished the 
 young strangers, as well as by the increased 
 loveliness of her own daughters^ whom, 
 ' - ^ for 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. OJ 
 
 for a considerable period^, she had not 
 beheld^ her reception of the fair quartette 
 was almost rude; and Mr. Selwyn^ fearful 
 lest his girls should form connections ini- 
 mical to his darling plan of their seclusion^ 
 set out the next morning for the Convent^ 
 and requested the Lady Abbess^ g^'^ii'^s ^Js 
 reason for so doing, to summon the com- 
 panions which his daughters had carried 
 to Ivy Tower^ to return to the Convent 
 without delay. 
 
 The good Abbess, surprised at this re- 
 quisition^ assured Mr. Selwyn that the 
 Misses Rosemont were daughters of a no 
 less personage than a Duke; that they 
 likewise were destined for the veil, and 
 were to enter upon their novitiate at the 
 expiration of six months. She then expa- 
 tiated upon the great friendship between 
 the four young ladies^ and expressed her 
 opinion of their being incited, by their 
 fondness for each other, to immure them- 
 selves, from an apprehension of separation, 
 should they quit the Convent. 
 
 D 4 Mr. 
 
56 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn confessed there was some 
 reason in her suggestion^ but expressed an 
 apprehension,, from her doubtful manner 
 of speaking, that the birth of the young 
 women was somewhat mysterious^, and said 
 he should not wish his girls to be con- 
 nected with suspicious characters; where- 
 upon the lady, jealous of the honour of 
 the Monastery^ evinced the certitude of 
 their nobility, not only by the confession 
 of the person who conducted them thither, 
 and the handsome terms upon which they 
 were entered, but by evidence of part of 
 a letter, in which was wrapped a small 
 piece of gold, that was to be particularly 
 taken care of, as it might one day be 
 productive of great consequences. She 
 then assured Mr. Selwyn, that the letter, 
 in express terms, mentions both the Duke 
 and the Duchess as parents of Lavinia and 
 Selina Rosemont. 
 
 It Vi^as impossible, even wei'e he not 
 convinced, for Mr. Selwvn to continue 
 an appearance of credulity without more 
 
 impoliteness 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 57 
 
 impoliteness than it was politic to exhibit; 
 but doubts were in reality removed^ and 
 he no longer wished to sever the young 
 friends — nay^, so chatmed had he been by 
 the beauty of Lavinia^ that a wish arose in 
 his heart of her being not so fortified by 
 virtuous principle as the Abbess had assured 
 Jiim she was ; and he took his leave with a 
 determination to endeavour to soften her 
 sentiments. 
 
 Fired by this new pursuit^ he hastened 
 his return to Ivy Tower, and was earnest 
 with his consort to consent to the con- 
 tinuance of the Misses Rosemont durinsr 
 the vacation ; but for a considerable period 
 he laboured in vain : and at length whent 
 he did extort her expressed compliance, 
 she vowed she v/ould reside chiefly in hep 
 own suite of apartments during the stay 
 pf the girls^ and that no company should, 
 during that period^, be invited to make 
 invidious comparisons between them and 
 herself 
 
 D 5 To 
 
58 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 To this resolution^ so facilitating to his 
 views^ Sehvyn readily acceded^, and even 
 strengthened^ by observing that it would 
 be politic to render Ivy Tower a joyless 
 habitation during their residence in it, 
 that they niight with the less reluctance 
 return to their cloister. 
 
 Arrangements thus mutually agreed to, 
 were soon entered upon. Mrs. Selwyn 
 was announced to be in too ill a state of 
 health to appear in the lower apartments ; 
 and the juvenile visitants were left by the 
 lady of the mansion to range at liberty 
 through gardens, groves^ and pleasure- 
 grounds that might almost vie with ancient 
 Paradise. 
 
 The two first days that our young friends 
 spent at Ivy Tov/er^ they had leisure ta 
 admire the unsurpassed beauties of the 
 place, and to indulge in social converse, 
 as no other individual, servants excepted, 
 than Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn had been 
 seen, William Selwyn, v/ith Horatio and 
 
 Ferdinand 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 59 
 
 Ferdinand Congreve^ having been to escort 
 their old tutor some miles on a journey 
 to the north of England. 
 
 About three hours after dinner^ on the 
 third day, they returned^ and hastening to 
 dress themselves^ entered the drawing- 
 room with the confectionary equipage^ 
 w^hich in those times^ in great families^ 
 always made its appearance at that part of 
 the day. 
 
 JMr. Selwynj not knowing the young 
 men were returned, was in his Lady's 
 dressing-room, settling some plans for the 
 future aggrandizement of his house; which 
 possibly some of our divining female 
 readers, from whose keen and scrutinizina: 
 eye no denouement can effectually be veiled^ 
 will prejudge consisted in a design to unite 
 the heir of his honours and estates to one 
 cf the dauglvicrs of his Grace^ for which 
 they surely will not give their vote of 
 condemnation. 
 
 When the young gentlemen were ushered 
 into the draVying-room, Sophia and Lavinia 
 
 D 6 v^ere 
 
60 THE NUNS DF THE DESERT. 
 
 were sitting in a spacious bow-window, 
 the bottom squares of which were orna- 
 mented by the foliage springing from the 
 plants which^ growing in handsomely 
 painted vases, surrounded the edifice in 
 two rov/s, the one below, the other above 
 the rooms upon the first floor. 
 
 A rose had sent forth its budding harbin- 
 ger of summer, as a pledge of her more 
 liberal favours, and the two rivals of its 
 beauty were descanting upon the loveli- 
 ness of the season in words of grateful" 
 enjoyment. 
 
 '^ Beauteous messenger V said Lavinia, 
 ^' I hail thy appearance! — Thou art an 
 earnest of immortality ! — Oh my Sophia^ 
 how my heart throbs with transport when 
 I view all nature thus rising to renewed 
 life and gaiety ! — Shall not we? — Yes, we 
 SHALL, after the transient sleep of death, 
 find ourselves instantly renovated, breath- 
 ing the exhilarating exhalations of an 
 ethereal atmosphere \" 
 
 '' Dear exalted girl !" said Sophia, as 
 
 she 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 61 
 
 she threw her arms around Lavinia, ^' you 
 always elevate my ideas to their utmost 
 sublimity, while at the same moment you 
 enliven my fancy. — Yes, I trust we shall 
 traverse the celestial plains hand in hand !'" 
 
 "Oh, you are in your altitudes!'' ex- 
 claimed Emily. " Come to me, my sweet 
 friend," addressing Seiina, '' and let us 
 seat ourselves by these divinities ; for i 
 think their appearance, at this moment, i& 
 superior to any thing in mortal clay."^ 
 
 " Indeed I think it is," replied the other ; 
 " and I wish you were not in such a rattling 
 humour. Let us listen, and profit by the 
 wisdom of our sisters." 
 
 '' What, you want to be an angel before 
 you be a Nun! — In good trath, Seiina, I 
 do not much relish either the Vbw or the 
 veil ; for, between you and me and these 
 two celestials, it is my decided opinion* 
 that there are in the world several pretty 
 things well worth the toil and trouble,, 
 which our good Lady Abbess says attend 
 
 all 
 
 ■ ^mMI^J^J^-^' 
 
62 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 all situations without the walls of our 
 righteous Convent." 
 
 At that instant, as Lavinia raised her 
 head from the shoulder of her friend^ the 
 door was thrown open^ and William Sel- 
 wyn, attended by Koratio and Ferdinand 
 Congreve^ advanced towards the lovely 
 group. 
 
 When the gentleman first above men- 
 tioned saw Lavinia, he stood transfixed. 
 Never before had he beheld any thing so 
 beautiful ; yet, master of himself even in 
 that arduous moment, he collected his 
 powers of dissembling, and, with an easy 
 air, advanced to his sisters, whom he had 
 occasionally, though seldom seen, wel- 
 comed their appeai'ance to Ivy Tower with 
 more than his native cordialitv, and re- 
 quested an introduction to their lovely 
 friends ; upon which iSophia presented 
 him to Miss Lavinia and Miss Selina Rose- 
 mont. 
 
 It was not within compass of the power 
 
 of 
 
 ;':£-' j3^\^. .'^.rC5S^^'<S'**~T!^T 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 63 
 
 of artifice to suppress, upon this presenta- 
 tion and nearer approach, the emotions 
 which filled the heart of young Selwyn. 
 Lavinia had first attracted his attention — 
 Selina now divided it ; and his breast beat 
 strono^ alarm. Hastenino; out of the room, 
 he ascended to the apartment of his mother, 
 where he likewise found his father sitting 
 in close conversation. 
 
 The perfect unreserve between this 
 child and his parents, rendered it unneces- 
 sary for them to break their discourse at 
 his entrance, and he aided that consulta- 
 tion which we lately mentioned ; in which 
 we will leave the trio^ and resort to the 
 drawing-room, where love, all-powerful 
 love, exercised his supreme dominion with 
 more than his usual despotism, and with a 
 celerity that enforced unhesitating sub- 
 mission to his first imperial mandate. 
 
 That instant affection, the comparative 
 instances of which are few, that proceeds 
 not from passion, but true sympathy, is as 
 genuine and as durable as that slower 
 
 pro 
 
 2:re&3 
 
 ^^-^mimn^m^-^. 
 
64- THE NUKS OF THIT DESERT. 
 
 progress of attachment, which, generally 
 speaking, merits the preference, because it 
 is most cognizable by reason ; to which, 
 however, if it zvill aJnde its subsequent in- 
 vestigation, it will even at first rise superior. 
 But be cautious. Oh ye tender blossoms 
 of our clime ! that ye m^istake not the 
 effervescence of a youthful fancy, or the 
 effects of a fervour, not of mind, for this 
 pure plant of heavenly growth ! — for dan- 
 gerous, if not deadly, will be your error, 
 if indulged. Let not a sparkling eye, a 
 ruddy cheek, a scarlet coat, and smart 
 cockade allure you ; nor yet permit a 
 specious air and softened accent to de- 
 ceive, and lead you to believe you have 
 found your counterpart. Much talkii^g, 
 and a studied manner exhibit not true 
 love, which shuns expression, and appears 
 in guise most simple. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 ,;ia5?'S.<|f." 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. -65 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 The Myrtle Arcade. — And the Woodland 
 Witches* 
 
 L. 
 
 rAVINIA received the comDliments of 
 Mr. William Selwyn with a native polite- 
 ness which Courts could not teach. Sophia 
 had talked to her companions of her bro- 
 ther and of her father's wards^ neither of 
 whom she had seen for three years, so 
 seldom was she permitted to spend any 
 time at Ivy Tower ; and it had happened 
 that in ihi:^ last two or three visits which 
 she and Emily had made to their parents, 
 the young gentlemen were absent. 
 
 William 
 
66 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT.- 
 
 William Selwyn passed from Lavinia to 
 Selina^ and left the room as Horace Con- 
 greve advanced to Miss Rosemont^ he 
 having first addressed the Misses Selwyns, 
 who were then talking to Ferdinand. The 
 moment he saw her^ that moment his fate 
 feemed on the balance. He gazed, he 
 bowed^ and gazed again. Her beauty had 
 stricken him. Her eyes expressed a senti- 
 ment which corresponded with his own. 
 He sighed, yet knev/ not why. 
 
 She certainly was a stranger to him, yet 
 seemed as of long acquaintance. When 
 he addressed her, she blushed, thought 
 him far preferable to Mr. William Selwyn, 
 and with confusion recollected the atten- 
 tion with which she had observed him. 
 
 During the entertainment, the conver- 
 sation v/as impressive. Every one was 
 pleased, and v^ished to please. Subjects 
 that spake the heart, employed the tongue ; 
 and the most perfect unreserve prevailed 
 in the company. 
 
 As soon as the repast was ended, Emily^ 
 
 wha 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESEITT. 6/ 
 
 who seldom rested long in one place, pro- 
 posed a walk in the garden, to which the 
 rest of the party readily acceded ; and just 
 before Mr. Selwyn and William descended 
 into the drawing-room, with a design to 
 pursue each his own private plan of 
 amusement, while they apparently pro- 
 secuted one more general, they sallied 
 forth, and turning from the front of the 
 house into an immense grove, which had 
 obtained, and well merited the denomi- 
 nation of a wilderness, neither the father 
 nor the son, though they took different 
 routes, discovered their retreat, till the 
 advance of evening suggested the pro- 
 priety of returning to the house. 
 
 Three hours had passed in a manner 
 most pleasing, most fascinating, to minds 
 susceptive of refined enjoyment. The seat 
 of felicity had been in an arcade composed 
 entirely of various species of myrtle then 
 in blossom, situate in a recess of the wil- 
 derness, at its extremity, fronting a spa- 
 cious sloping lav/n^ which was abounded 
 
68 THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 by a fine piece of water^ planted on the 
 other side by rows of cedar, rising one 
 above another^ whose lower branches were 
 met by various evergreen flov/ering shrubs, 
 behind the foremost of which w^as a small 
 palisade^ not obvious to the sight, to pre- 
 vent the straying of whatevf^r was placed 
 within the enclosure^ which were generally 
 some Welch sheep^ and small spotted 
 French cows. 
 
 In the midst of the lawn was a stand of a 
 curious construction for various kinds of 
 doves; and in little recesses^, planted over 
 with shrubSj nursery-boxes for hares, rab- 
 bits, and domestic fowls. This retirement 
 had been a favourite spot with Mrs. Blen- 
 heinij whose elegance of taste had render- 
 ed it replete with every rural beauty. 
 
 Seated on a green sad sofa in the center 
 arch, our little party seemed as if trans- 
 lated into Paradise. Never had they 
 enjoyed happiness so pure and perfect. 
 Conversation the most animated and sub- 
 lime^ employed their powers, till Emily, 
 
 enraptured 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. $9 
 
 enraptured with a peacock^ who proudly- 
 spread his plumes to the western sun, 
 drew them to that part of the lawn to take 
 a nearer view of his wonderful beauties, 
 on which Horace offered the support of 
 his arm to Lavinia^ and Ferdinand his to 
 Sophia ; the other two friends leading each 
 other at a short distance. 
 
 After admiring the glorious biped as 
 long as he chose to display his beauties, 
 the two youngest ladies amused themselves 
 with a double riding-seat^ which was fixed 
 in an arbour/ while the four returned to 
 the arcade, and insensibly made an inter- 
 change of hearts ; for before the evening 
 closed, they were gone an age in love — 
 Ferdinand as sincerely admiring Sophia as 
 Horatio did Lavinia, though he had not 
 been so instantly stricken as was his brother. 
 Of this affection, of which every heart 
 was sensible, not a syllable was uttered; 
 yet no one doubted of his or her influence, 
 nor did any one regret the incidents of 
 the evening. The Convent was forgotten. 
 
 The 
 
70 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 The army which Horace and Ferdinand 
 were meditating to enter^, was no more 
 remembered. The world was centered in 
 the lawn ; every thing beyond faded upon 
 their imagination, and it was with painful 
 reluctance that they attended to the sug- 
 gestions of propriety, upon the decline of 
 the sun, to return to the tower. 
 
 Encountering Mr. Selwyn and William 
 at the turn of a walk into a flower-garden 
 near the house, something like conscious- 
 ness marked every countenance, except 
 that of Emily and Selina, who in sportive 
 unconcern, avowed they had passed the most 
 pleasant evening imaginable ; and Emily 
 asked her brother why he had run a^vay 
 from the ladies? — To which interrogation 
 he made a confused reply : and the com- 
 pany walked slowly to the house, to which 
 Mrs. Selwyn was just returned, having 
 been driven to a neighbouring village^ 
 under pretence of taking fresh air, but in 
 reality to meet a smart young officer, for 
 whom she entertained a predilection ; but 
 
 would 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 7 1 
 
 would not permit his visits at the Tower 
 while the lovely Nuns elect were there^ 
 lest his heart, of which she believed herself 
 possessed — a persuasion which it was his 
 rirterest to confirm — should revolt to one 
 of the fairer objects. 
 
 That Mr. Selwyn was no stranger to his 
 Lady's liberalitij of sentiment, was a point 
 not questioned ; yet to preserve an appear- 
 ance of decency^, and perhaps to heighten 
 the charms of intrigue, affected the utmost 
 secrecy in all her assignations. — So true it 
 is, that those whose deeds are evil, love 
 darkness rather than light. 
 
 In the month which our young female 
 friends spent at Ivy Tower, the business 
 of years was effected. It was indeed a 
 period of importance. The hearts of La- 
 viniaand Horatio were indissolubly united; 
 the hearts of Sophia and Ferdinand equally 
 attached. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn was earnest in pursuit of 
 the destruction of Miss Rosemont. Wil- 
 liam divided betv/een her and Selina ; 
 
 the 
 
72 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 the latter of which he fancied would be 
 conquered without so much trouble as he 
 foresaw would be attendant on the subju- 
 gation of her sister, which he frequently 
 averred no woman in the world was worth; 
 as^ shame on the questioner, ^' what/' he 
 asked, '' was the difference between w^oman 
 and woman ?" — Yet Lavinia w^as the indi- 
 vidual who had excited his passmi ; for we 
 will not prostitute the name of love by 
 bestowing it upon any sentiment which 
 could inhabit the breast of a William Sel- 
 wvn : but he fancied that both Horace and 
 his father would fix upon Miss Rosemont, 
 and as he doubted not but one, if not 
 both, would eventually succeed, he pru- 
 dently determined to wait till her heart 
 was enough softened, and -her principles 
 suMiciently vitiated, to accept his tcndrcsse 
 at the first offer, nothing doubting but 
 that the fervour of Horace Congreve, and 
 the gold ©f his father, of which, on such 
 an occasion, he Vt'ell knew that c;entleman 
 ,5 would 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 73 
 
 would not be sparing, would modulate her 
 mind to his wishes. 
 ► As to virtue in a woman^ William Sel- 
 ^wvn had been taught, by the precepts of 
 hi^ father, and the practice of his mother, 
 to believe there was no such a principle 
 in this state of mortal existence. To 
 Selina Rosemont, therefore, William Sel- 
 wyn, from mature consideration, deter- 
 mined for a time to devote himself, and 
 soon made that progress in her affection 
 which it might be expected so lively, so 
 handsome a young man, and so well versed 
 in the art of uttering poisonous w^rds, in 
 honied accents, would do. She thought 
 she loved him because he v,as the brother 
 of her dear Sophia, and stiil dearer Emily, 
 for whom she increased in affection, bc~ 
 cause J though she knew it not, she was 
 sister to William. 
 
 About this period, there was mvich talk 
 in the environs of Ivetsey of som.e cele- 
 brated fortune-tellers, who had acquired 
 the appellarion of the Woodland Vv^itches, 
 VOL. 1. E so 
 
 i^- y^ AkCL" 
 
74 TViE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 SO extraordinary, so unexampled, was 
 deemed their prescience in judicial astro- 
 logy. This predicating congress consisted 
 of two elderly, and one young woman, 
 distinguished amongst themselves by the 
 names of Margaret, Rachael, and Anna. 
 
 The first was a woman of middle height, 
 rather inclined to be fat, with a pleasant 
 and open countenance. The second was 
 taller and thinner, with a keen and merry 
 aspect : her eyes were piercing, and the 
 tone of her voice denoted penetration. 
 The third was a lovely little brunette, in- 
 nocent and playful ; a good actress in 
 any character, and delighted in the sly 
 tricks of youth. The mansion of this 
 memorable trio was worthy the character 
 of its inhabitants. i 
 
 In former ages it had probably been an 
 appendage to the Castle, as, in a straight 
 line, its distance was trifling; but the only 
 path novf obvious was near three miles, it 
 being impossible, since the trees had 
 grown so large, to walk in that line through 
 
 the 
 
 _ 1 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 75 
 
 the wood which was between^ or fo pass, 
 at the back part of the grounds belonging 
 to the Convent, a broad river, which with 
 rapidity rushed tov/ards the oceail. 
 
 The residence of our witches, denomi- 
 nated the Woodland Cottage, was situated 
 in the bosom of a deep glen, surrounded 
 by hills, whose sides were embrowned by 
 trees of ancient growth, round which the 
 misletoe or the ivy was closely entwined, 
 and the surface of the ground was covered 
 by fern. 
 
 On entering the house, an observer was 
 struck with the uncommonness of the- fur- 
 niture, and with a something that could 
 not be defined in the manners of its inha- 
 bitants, even down to animals that are 
 generally known by the appellation of 
 irrationals; but which, as they were found 
 in the Woodland Cottage, might (and not 
 entirely without success) have disputed the 
 point of rationality with several of that 
 species of biped, whose tail is pendant 
 from its head. 
 
 E 9 The 
 
76 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 The first room was a kind of vestibule 
 about nine feet square. Its floor and walls 
 were white as snow. In one corner was a 
 table^ on which stood a large celestial 
 globe^ with several mathematical instru- 
 ments, and over it a black quinquangular 
 board, on which was written, in letters 
 of tarnished gold, several cabalistic cha- 
 racters ; and at each of the five corners, 
 a portentous symbol ,* at one of which, by 
 the twirl of a wheel, a finger from the 
 centre of the board stopped and pointed. 
 On the finger, which was of a flame- 
 colour, was written in letters of black — 
 BEHOLD ! — It is fixed! 
 
 It was not un frequent that when any 
 person rapped at the door, it was opened 
 by an old ape^, dressed in a rusty black 
 cloth gown, with a tassel, to which was 
 prefixed a small brass bell, hanging from 
 his left shoulder ; and the person upon 
 entering was surprised at the animal's 
 casting a squinting glance at his face, and 
 with the question, in a kind of chattering 
 
 tone. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESEHT. 77 
 
 tone, of— ''Do you want to have your 
 fortune told }" 
 
 One lady thus accosted gave a violent 
 scream, and was running back, when a 
 command from a large old grey parrot, 
 which she had not before observed, to — 
 '•' Stop, or take the consequence !'' absolutely 
 transfixed her*. 
 
 .At 
 
 * The rational conversation of a parrot, as some of ©ur 
 readers have been informed, is not a circumstance absolutely 
 unprecedented. We are therefore at liberty to give a licence to 
 suppose that the bird in the Woodlands was positively endued 
 with reason. Whether that liceHce will be repealed, or con-^ 
 tinued to the end, is not, at this period, a point to be decided. 
 
 Whoever has read Locke's Essay on the Human Understand- 
 ing, has likewise read the account given by the writer of — ■ 
 *' Memoirs of what passed in Christendom frora iSfa to 1679," 
 of a Brazilian bird of that species, which asked and answered 
 different kinds of questions; but as it is probable that some of 
 our readers have not met with that relation, we will present it 
 to them verlatim, from the volume of our great Essayist j 
 leaving it to their judgment to make their own comments. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE PARROT. 
 
 *' r had a mind to know, from Prince Maurice's own mputh, 
 the account ot a common, but much credited story, that I had 
 
 £ 3- heard 
 
^8 THE NUNS OF TIIE DESERT. 
 
 At that moment little laughing Anna 
 appeared^ and in an accent of gaiety, 
 
 though 
 
 ¥ieard so often from many others, of an old parrot he had in 
 Brazil, during his government there, that spoke, and asked, 
 and answered common questions like a reasonable creature, so 
 that those of his train there generally concluded it to be 
 ■witchery, or possession j and one of his Chaplains, who lived 
 long afterwards in Holland, could never, from that time., 
 endure a parrot ; but said they all had a devil in them. I had 
 heard many particulars of this story, and assevered by people 
 hard to be discredited, which made me ask Prince Maurice 
 the truth of it. F^e said, with his usual plainness and 
 dryness in talk, there were some truth, and some false, of 
 y/hat had been reported. I begged to know of him what 
 there were of the first He told me, short and coldly, 
 that he had heard of such an old parrot, when he came to 
 frazil j and though he believed nothing of it, and it was a 
 good y/ay off, yet he had so much curiosity as to send for it j 
 that it was a very large, and a very old one j and when it came 
 ^rst into th,e room where the Prince was, with a great many 
 pu;,chmen about him, it said' — 
 
 * What a company of white men are here 1' 
 
 ** They asked it what he thought that man was, pointing tp 
 the Prjn.c.e. It answered — 
 
 * Some General or other.' 
 
 " When they brought it close to. him, he asked it— 
 
 * D'ou venez vous ? ' (fVhence come ye ?J 
 •Parrot. De Marinnan.' fFrom MarimianJ 
 
 * Prince. A qui estes vous?* ("fo luhom do you lelongf) 
 ' PAyROT. A un Portugais.' CTo a Portuguese J 
 
 * PniNCE = 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 79 
 
 though of gentleness, requested the lady 
 not to be frig^htened as their innocent 
 domestics^ who were the best-natured 
 
 * PftiNCE. Que fais tu la ?' (What do you there fj 
 
 * Pari'ot. Je garde les poiilles.' (^I look offer the chickeiis.J 
 
 * Prince Fuus gardez les pouliesl' (Vou look afiei the 
 chickois/J 
 
 ' Parrot Oui, oui, & je scais bien faire.' fYes I, and 1 
 know we'll enough how to do it — and made the chuck four or five 
 times that people use to make to chickens when they call 
 them. 
 
 *' I set down the words of this dialogue in French, just 
 as Prince Maurice said them to me. I asked him in what 
 language the parrot spoke, and he said in Brazilian. I asked 
 whether he understood Brazilian ? He said no ; but he had 
 taken care to have two interpreters by him— the one a Dutch- 
 man, that spoke Brazilian, and the other a Brazilian, that 
 spoke Daich ; that he asked them separately and privately, and 
 both of them agreed in telling him just the same thing that the 
 parrot had said. I could not but tell this cdd story, because it 
 is so much out of the way, and from the first hand, that it 
 may pass for a good one ; for I dare say this Prince, at least, 
 believed himself in all he told me, having ever passed for a very 
 honest and pious man. I leave it to naturalists to reason, and 
 to other men to believe, what they please upon it; however, it 
 is not, perhaps, amiss to relieve or enliven a busy scene some= 
 times with such digressions, whether to the purpose or no." 
 
 The above is an exact transcript from the fourth edition, 
 folio, page 152 of Locke's Essay. 
 
 E 4 creatures 
 
80 THE NUNS OF THE BESERT. 
 
 creatures in the worlds only that they had 
 received an unusual polish of education. 
 
 The Lady^ upon this assurance^, went 
 through the purpose of her visit with 
 decent fortitude^ received complete satis- 
 faction respecting her allotment in life, 
 and celebrated our witches in every com- 
 pany in the environs of Ivetsey. 
 
 On the right hand of the little necro- 
 mantic vestibule^ was the common resi- 
 dence of the famous augurers^ kept;, as 
 was the rest of the house^ in the most per- 
 fect neatness. On the left was the room 
 ofroo7iis! — a space of one hundred and 
 twenty-one square feet^ calculated to ensure 
 a perfect affiance in all that was uttered 
 within its precincts. The lower half of 
 the walls was covered with old dark wain- 
 scot;, in which were several recesses with 
 little glass doors, shaded within by green 
 silk curtains. The upper part of the room 
 was mock tapestry — a kind of hanging 
 much in vogue before paper became so 
 general. It was a very stout and du^'able 
 
 sort 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 8! 
 
 sort of canvass^ on which was generally 
 painted pieces of ancient history ; but 
 that of which we are speakings, presented 
 a deep grove^ like those of the Druids^ with 
 a view of several caves, two or three of 
 which were partly covered with misletoe ; 
 and near one of them, just at the entrance, 
 was a small heap of eggs, which, those read 
 in the history of the Druids, might suppose 
 t^ have been the produce of the serpent :: 
 - — a little old man with a venerable aspect 
 standing over them, with clasped hands, in- 
 a- kind of adoring attitude. 
 
 Had not the era at which we write been' 
 antecedent to that graced by the existence 
 of the Genius of the Avon, one of the 
 views might be supposed to have been- 
 taken from his drama of the Tempest ;: 
 — a Prospero^ — a Miranda- — a Ferdinand^ — 
 a Trinculo — and even an imaginary little- 
 Aerial, in the semblanceof a beautiful fio^ure 
 about nine inches — to compare it with the 
 others — in height, an4 with wings to its 
 
 E 5 shoulders^. 
 
8^ THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 shoulders^, perched upon one of the lower 
 branches of a tree. 
 
 In a very distant back-ground was a view 
 of the sea^ to which a river^ with a flowery 
 mead in fronts seemed bending its course. 
 
 On a bank of the river appeared a man 
 with something on his back^ over which a 
 mantle was thrown^ evidently in the act of 
 falling into the water ; a woman^ with a 
 terrified countenance^ holding up her hands^ 
 as if screaming and running to save him. 
 
 Upon a rising hill^, not far from the mead, 
 a statelv edifice was seen, which those who> 
 were acquainted 
 
 But we ask our reader's pardon-. 
 
 "Fascinated by the retrospection of a 
 prospect on which we have ruminated with 
 rapture, we were descending to imprudent 
 minutias, without considering that the 
 fervour of our friends, on view of the 
 beauties of Nature, may be sufficiently 
 lively, without any tincture of the enthu- 
 siam which we acknowledge is to our nature 
 inseperably united. 
 
 GHAP 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. BS* 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Fortune-telling, 
 
 JUlVERTED by sapient considerations^ 
 from a flight to the magnificent structure 
 in view at the close of our last chapter^ we 
 will slowly and soberly ascend by regular 
 gradation to Ivy Tower^ walking leisurely 
 up the hill, in front of the Cottage^ by a 
 narrow winding path^ which led to a wicket 
 at its summit^ and gave the only admission 
 into the valley from the surrounding woods. 
 Our Witches were the theme of conver- 
 sation in all the companies in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and the whim of hearing their 
 
 E G predictions 
 
84 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 predictions^ now seized the party at the 
 Tower^who agreed to consult them on their 
 own future destiny the ensuing morning at 
 an early hour. 
 
 This resolution was entered into one 
 evening. After a supper which Mrs. Selwyn 
 had honoured with her presence^ as fami- 
 liarised to theideaof having young women 
 in the house^ she at length would some- 
 times^ when there were no other company^ 
 oblige them by her appearance; and being 
 at this period in a gay and good humour, 
 declared for the frolic of visiting the 
 Witches in the Woodlands. 
 
 Accordingly^ as scon as they arose, car- 
 riages Y/ere ordered to the door^ and Mrs. 
 Selwyn^ accompanied by Sophia^ Seiina 
 Rosemont, and Horatio Congreve^ who, she 
 had of late been heard to say, was a hand- 
 some young felloWj set off in the first 
 coach. Lavinia, Emily, Mr. Selwyn, and 
 William occupied the other. Ferdinand 
 Congreve rode on horseback; and a young 
 womanj whom Mrs. Selwyn had lately taken 
 
 into 
 
1'IIE NUNS OF THE CESERT. 8'5 
 
 into favour^, and retained as a dresser^ rode^ 
 at a distance^ behind a servant. 
 
 When they arrived at the entrance to the 
 woodj they were obliged to descend from 
 their carriages, and penetrate the briary 
 path on footj till they arrived at the wicke? 
 on the summit of the hill ; where the first 
 object that met their astonished eyes, was 
 a large tabby male cat with a painted cloak, 
 which was tied round his neck, and covered 
 half his back. Stalking m.ajestically to- 
 wards the company, he mewed in what they 
 thought an extraordinary manner ; when^ 
 upon the distant tinkling of a bell^ he 
 darted into the deep of the wood, and was 
 seen no more. 
 
 A dread and death-like silence now for 
 some moments reigned around, It seemed' 
 as if no creature but the solemn grimalkin^ 
 which had so suddenly disappeared^ existed 
 in that region. 
 
 Looking upon each other, they scarce 
 knew whether they should proceed, till 
 Fanny, the favourite of Mrs. Selwyn, wha 
 
 expressed 
 
86 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 expressed an ardent wish to hear her 
 fortune^ offered to advance to the Cottage 
 below. 
 
 The party now descended the hill^ and 
 when they were within a few yards of the 
 door^ several cats of a smaller make^ and 
 with an appearance of wings to their shoul- 
 ders^ darted from an upper window^, and 
 flew towards the thicket^ carrying with them 
 the sound of such a bell as they had heard 
 while standing at the wicket. The ladies 
 were somewhat alarmed. The gentlemen 
 confessed that they thought appearances 
 were eoctraorrlinart/ ; but endeavoured to 
 laugh away the ladies apprehensions. They 
 approached the door. It was opened by 
 the ape in regimen tals^ with a grenadier's 
 eap upon his head. No other living, crea- 
 ture appeared.. 
 
 *' Are you the master of the house^ Sir?'* 
 asked William Selwyn^ with something of 
 an abatement of courage. 
 
 '^ No ; nor is there a master here. My' 
 mistress, who is engaged with the three 
 
 daughters. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 8T 
 
 daughters of Erebus^ will wait upon you 
 presently/' was the reply ; which so amazed 
 them^ that they were incapable of speaking 
 a syllable. 
 
 A bell was now rang^ and Anna entered 
 from one side of the vestibule. Curtseying 
 and smiling, she requested the company to 
 advance, desiring pug to be silent ; upon 
 which he grinned, chattered, and ran into 
 his box. 
 
 As they walked through the vestibule^ 
 the singularity of the furniture attracted 
 their observation ; and as they w^ere admir- 
 ing the quinquangular board before-men- 
 tioned, the rustling of the old grey parrot 
 drew their attention, and turning towards 
 him, as Mr. Selwyn was following Anna 
 into the painted room, they distinctly 
 heard;, in his usual rough voice^ 
 
 ** By the pricking of my toes, 
 
 " Something wicked that way goes." 
 
 ^J Poll is a poet V said William Selwyn^ 
 
 with 
 
88 THE NUKS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 with a laugh, while the ladies stood iit 
 amazement ; but Anna turned to the bird 
 ■with a countenance of rebuke ; and asked 
 how he dared to ppeak so prematurely ? 
 
 " You will wish me to speak presently/' 
 was the answer^ in a kind of tremulous' 
 Toice : '' for do vou think I do not know 
 who that first man is ?'" 
 
 '' Silence!" said Anna^ in a peremptory 
 tone. " Say nothing till you shall be called 
 upon/* 
 
 " You are very cross/' said the bird, a^ 
 he hopped into his swing ; and, as if in' 
 anger, rolled himself from side to side with- 
 velocity. 
 
 The company were now in the painted 
 room; and Mr. Selwyn, something appalled- 
 with what he heard from the parrot, saw, 
 with surprise, the semblance of his own^ 
 residence in one of the pieces of painted 
 tapestry. 
 
 '' These surely are v/itches !" said he 
 
 silently : '' I wish we had not come hither ! " 
 
 Turning to take another viev/ of Ivy 
 
 Tower^ he was nearly sinking to the earth,. 
 
 when 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESEBT. 89 
 
 when he not only perceived it no more, 
 but saw a flaming sword in the very spot 
 in which two minutes before he saw the 
 building. He now ardently wished to fly 
 from this wonderful room ; but fearful that 
 such a proposal might be construed to his 
 disadvantage^ he forbore to urge their 
 departure. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn had been struck, but not so 
 forcibly as her husband^ by the circumstance 
 of the parrot. The building she had not 
 perceived^ consequently had not observed 
 that transition by which he had been so 
 much alarmed. 
 
 The process of fortune-telling was now 
 entered upon. Margaret and RachaeL 
 dressed in black flowing robes^ made their 
 appearance^ and saluted the wandering 
 party with — '' Hail ! all hail to this com- 
 pany ! Gentlemen and ladies be of good 
 cheer ! If vour hearts do not condemn 
 you, neither will we. Look not upon us 
 as ministers of darkness, but as spirits of 
 superior order." 
 
 Tiiis 
 
S0 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 This address^ uttered with much solem- 
 nity^ was consolatory to every heart but 
 those of Mr. and Mrs. William Selwvn, v/ho 
 shrank from the appeal to conscious inno- 
 cence. 
 
 Horace and Ferdinand Congreve were 
 impatient of the augury. Lavinia and 
 Sophia half expected to be toid of their 
 lately formed partiality for the youths last 
 mentioned ; though they^ as well as the 
 rest of the party^, had considered the design 
 of the morning as a mere frolic ; but there 
 was something more impressive, more 
 awful in the progress of the business than 
 they expected. 
 
 Emily and Selina, less interested than the 
 others, v/ere careless about the result of 
 the scene ; but expected, what they termed 
 high fun, in hearing the fortunes of their 
 sisters, and the young Congreve's. 
 
 William Selwyn, though somewhat ap- 
 palled by what he had heard and observed, 
 had still a game in hand which he deter^ 
 mined to play, and whispered to Fanny, 
 
 who- 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 91 
 
 ^vlio, at her lady's desire, was permitted to 
 be present, to call the fattest looning Witch, 
 as she seemed to be the directress, into 
 another apartment, which she did, and he 
 followed ; where shutting himself up with 
 Margaret, who assumed an air of majesty, 
 almost prohibitory to his request, he never- 
 theless offered her some gold, if she would 
 predict as he should order to the blisses 
 Rosem.ont, with the leading circumstances 
 of whose life he would make her amply 
 acquainted. 
 
 Margaret stood aghast, but moved not 
 her lips to utter one syllable, save, in a 
 peremptory tone, the word — " Brimo/* 
 
 Instantly a large and peculiar kind of 
 mastiff with coarse, long, black, lank hair, 
 sprinkled with white by the hand of Time 
 in various parts, particularly on his beard, 
 which was bushy and bristly, arose from his 
 cushion, and looking at young Selwyn, lirst 
 growled inarticulatelv, then— ^'^ Thou sperm 
 of villany ! — thou agent of infernal coun- 
 sel 1 how darest thou to utter thy horrid 
 
 purposes 
 
02 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 purposes in the presence of my virtuous 
 mistress^ who seest the dark workings of 
 thy guileful soul ? Monster ! it is with 
 difficulty that I refrain from ridding man- 
 kind of such a youthful fiend !*' struck hi? 
 ears, and stiffened him with horror ; Mar- 
 garetj standing at a few yards distance, sur- 
 veying his countenance, w^hich pourtrayed 
 shame, fear, and malignity. 
 
 The mastiff retired, growling, to his 
 cushion, where, stretched at length, and 
 resting his under jaws upon his two fore 
 paws, he seemed to eye askance the almost 
 trembling oifender. 
 
 Rallying his truant courage, young 
 Selwyn advanced to our witch with an essay 
 at an air of intrepidity ; saying — " Madam^ 
 you mistake yaiir man ! I am not to be 
 frightened even by the imps, which I now 
 half believe you employ from the infernal 
 regions. Know your best interest ; take 
 my money, and then — " 
 
 ^^ Brimo, seize him !" uttered Margaret; 
 Upon which the dog fiew at him with fury, 
 
 and 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 93 
 
 and had not his mistress interposed^ would 
 soon have demolished the young miscreant. 
 
 '' Know your safety in my clemency. 
 Sir/' said the gentlewoman. '' Obey my 
 orders. Return to the company, and 
 disturb it not with interposing/' 
 
 William did obey ; he returned to the 
 company, and was silent. 
 
 When Margaret, preceded by young 
 Selwyn, entered the painted room, Rachael 
 was explaining some of the scenes on the 
 canvass, one or two of which neither Mr. 
 nor Mrs. Selwvn seemed to admire : but 
 they made no comments, contenting them- 
 selves with looking significantly upon each 
 other, as Margaret again retired. 
 
 The sword which was substituted for the 
 building of Ivy Tower, maintained its situ- 
 ation; but as no one, excepting Mr. 
 Selwyn, had noticed the change of object, 
 it continued unnoticed, till Horace Con- 
 greve asked if it had any particular or por- 
 tentous meaning. 
 
 '' It is," replied Rachael, '' the sword of 
 
 Justice — 
 
 ;,<g#'' 
 
94 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Justice — a sword v/hich will in time do its 
 own work — a sword which points to the 
 breast^ and pierces the heart, without extin- 
 guishing the vital spark ; but if those to 
 v/hom it points do not repent — amend — and 
 restorCj its vengeance will be final/' 
 
 At that moment, as the eyes of the com- 
 pany were fixed upon the spot^ the sword 
 turned three times rounds and rested in its 
 place. 
 
 The young ladies and the Congreves 
 were hi<>:hlv entertained by this incident, 
 v/hich was not quite so pleasing to the other 
 three, and Mr. Selwyn said — '' Vv^e came 
 hither in a sportive humour, chiefly to 
 divert these young people, to have our 
 fortunes told, and not to see machinery or 
 slig-ht of hand. If this is to be our enter- 
 tainment, we have had enough of it, and 
 may as well return." 
 
 '-'^ Whenever you are disposed to hear 
 what you term your fortune. Sir," said 
 Rachael, '' I will call my sister, as that 
 science belongs chiefly to her department." 
 
 She 
 5 
 
THE NtJNS 01?' THE DESERT. 95 
 
 She then stepped to the door^ aiid sum- 
 monino- Margaret, left the room as she 
 entered. 
 
 " Who am I first to have the honour of 
 instructing in the mysterious page of 
 destiny?'' asked Margaret^ Vv^ith solemnity 
 of voice and countenance. 
 
 Every one declined to be foremost^ till 
 Mrs. SelvvyUj calling upon Fanny, ordered 
 her to advance. Fanny, looking down, 
 seemed to tremble, but obeyed her lady's 
 mandate. 
 
 '' Child," said this gentle-mannered 
 Witch, '' your life has hitherto been vari- 
 ous, and various it is likely to continue. 
 It depends entirely upon yourself, whether, 
 even in this life, you will experience dis- 
 tress or happiness. 
 
 '' There is a path prepared for you to 
 walk in, which will lead you to peace and 
 comfort; but you are not necessitated to 
 keep in this straight road, or there would 
 not be any thing praiseworthy in your so 
 doing. The walk is beset with temptations, 
 
 to 
 
 is2#'^'-'' 
 
^ THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 to wander into inextricable mazes^ which, 
 if you give way to delusion^, may lead to 
 great — to final destruction. If you attend 
 to the honest dictates of your silent mind, 
 you will never err. 
 
 Early in life you were entrusted to the 
 care of strangers. Say^, for the satisfaction 
 of this company;, if lam right.'* 
 
 Fanny. — You are. 
 
 Witch. — You have been told that your 
 father was a man of large property ? 
 
 Fanny. — I have. 
 
 Witcli. — Your mother had three chil- 
 dren ? 
 
 Fanny. — She had. 
 
 TVitch. — Your brother died before your 
 sister was born ? 
 
 Fanny. — ^^So I have been told. 
 
 Witch. — Weli^ child^ you find I know 
 what has been. It must now be my part to 
 inform you of v,^hat^ if it be not your own 
 faulty you may possess in future. 
 
 Margaret now ordered the table with the 
 globe^ and the quinquangular board to be 
 
 carried 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 97 
 
 carried into the painted room, which was 
 accordino^Iv done by Rachael and Anna, 
 to whom the other said ^' Keep watch " — 
 and they retired^ Rachael saying, '' The 
 star of the dawn is no longer visible; not 
 even throiiofh the seventh o;lass/' 
 
 Margaret replied^ '"'It is as I saw; there 
 is evil at hand." 
 
 The wheel that o-uided the finder on the 
 boards which, supported by an angular 
 frame, stood on the table, was turned by 
 Fanny, at the command of Margaret, and 
 the finger stopped at the mouth of a 
 cavern; the cunning woman now consulted 
 the stars, and now the cabalistic characters. 
 
 Again Fanny turned the wheel; and 
 again the finger pointed at the cavern. 
 
 The witch — for by that denomination^ 
 in compliance with the custom of the 
 country, wx distinguish her — then put into 
 the hand of the trembling girl an ivory rod^ 
 and ordered her to knock against the 
 wainscot. 
 
 VOL. I. F She 
 
53 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 She obeyed — v/hen suddenly a little door 
 was opened into one of the small arched 
 recesses^ and a fio-itre^ of a feminine appear- 
 ance^ about two feet in height, with a 
 youthful, smiling countenance, and gaily 
 habited, tripped forward into the room ; 
 and seemed to look enquiringly in the 
 face of the witch, v^ho said, '' Fatima, tell 
 this young woman the fortune that awaits 
 her acceptance." 
 
 Fatima. — '' Is Fanny Redman the name 
 to which you answer ? " 
 
 Fanny seemed in terror and caught hold 
 of the arm of Emily, who stood near her. 
 
 " What are you afraid of ? " asked Emily^, 
 speak up ; I will when it comes to my 
 turn, and I long to be talking to this little 
 gentlewoman, who, I am sure, will not 
 hurt me ; she looks so good humoured." 
 
 Fatima. — "Hurt you. Miss Emily ! no; 
 nor any of your disposition." 
 
 Emily. — " Pray how came you to know 
 my name ? '* 
 
 Fatima 
 
THE NUNS or THE DESERT. 99 
 
 Fatima. — '' Do you think I never savr 
 you before ? '' 
 
 Emilij. — '' I am sure you never did." 
 
 Fatima. — " Never be too positive. Do 
 not you remember bestowing your bounty 
 on a poor woman with a child on her 
 backj last Friday morning; and did she 
 not say^ you were an Angel ? " 
 
 Emily was frightened ; but collecting 
 her resolution^ asked in a trembling voice^ 
 ^' if she was that woman .^ '' 
 
 Fatima. — "No; but I must mind other 
 business. I asked you^ yoking woman, 
 (turning her head to a necromantic table) 
 if you did not answer to the name of 
 Redman ? — reply to me^ and look at me.'* 
 
 Fannij. — '' I do.'* 
 
 Fatima. — '' But it is a name which never 
 belonged to either your father or your 
 mother; it will not be long before you 
 are convinced I speak truth. Your future 
 life will have its fair and cloudy seasons; 
 if you yield to the pursuit of the libertine 
 who now addresses you^you will fall into the 
 
 F 2 jaws 
 
100 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 jaws of destruction. If you reward the 
 constancy of him^ who seeks you for a 
 partner through life, you will pass your 
 days, after a few painful months are over^ 
 in an enviable tranquillity." 
 
 " One explanation more, and I will 
 retire; you are, at this crisis , observed bi/ 
 more than one of your near relations.'' 
 
 At the close of this last speech, Fatima, 
 to the astonishment of the beholders 
 curtsied to the company, and returned to 
 the recess; the door of which instantly 
 excluded her appearance. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 101 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Fortune telling concluded. 
 
 j|N the preceding chapter we gave a 
 Suscinct account of the method observed 
 by our witches in the process of fortune- 
 telling. Margaret v/as generally, but not 
 invariably, the speaker ; Rachael some- 
 times, and sometimes Anna, pronouncing 
 the destiny of enquirers. 
 
 When Fatima disappeared, Margaret con- 
 tinued to enlarge on Fanny's dangerous 
 situation, and opened a more clear view 
 of her future prospects; told her of seve- 
 ral past and present secret circumstances, 
 
 F 3 the 
 
102 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 the truth of which she was compelled to 
 acknowledge^ and spoke decisively of the 
 events which would mark the ensuing 
 period of her destiny. When Margaret 
 closed the page of Fanny's fate, the cry 
 of '' Who next ? " ran round the room for 
 some time; no one seeming over forward 
 to brave the wonders by which Fanny had 
 appeared so appalled. 
 
 At length Emily stood forth, and de- 
 manded her future history, which, with 
 the particularization of various circum- 
 stances, w^as delivered as had been that 
 to Fanny. At the conclusion of her pre- 
 diction, Margaret told Emily she was mis- 
 tress, in her own right, of a large fortune, 
 
 Emily moved her head in such a man- 
 ner as betokened incredulity. 
 
 Margaret repeated the assertion in 
 stronger terms, and asked, if she wished 
 to hear a confirmation of it from the 
 little lady who had predicted to the first 
 young gentlewoman- — meaning Fanny. 
 
 Emily 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 103 
 
 Emily^ too much surprised to speak, 
 bowed assent; and the witch giving her 
 the ivory w^and^ she tapped against the 
 little door^ which flew open with violence, 
 and a figure, shorter than Fatima, wnth a 
 sharp, peaked face — shrivelled skin — ferret 
 eyes — blue nose — black hair — a blue man- 
 tie over her shoulder — a high crowned 
 hat — and a broom-stick in her hand — ap- 
 peared to the astonished beholders. 
 
 '' What do you want ? '' — '' Why do you 
 disturb me ? " — was the interrogation ; 
 spoken in a shrill sharp voice, that amazed 
 the company. 
 
 Margaret. — ''Why Hecate, you look 
 very ill humoured to-day ! what is the mat- 
 ter with you ? and why does not Fatima 
 appear ? " 
 
 Hecate. — " Hist ! Hist ! the moon-dog 
 barks ; I must away ; Hist ! Hist ! " 
 
 jllargaret. — " First tell this young lady 
 her future fortune.'* 
 
 Hecate. — '' No; Fll have nothing to 
 
 do with her; she is not of our sort. — 
 
 F 4 There 
 
104 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 There are three in the room with whom 
 I claim kindred; put them into my hands 
 and I will carry them to our cave^ for 
 
 they will serve us^ and moreover " 
 
 Margaret — ''Silence this moment; I will 
 not have any one who come to this room 
 abused." 
 
 Hecate. — '' Such a father^ such a son ; such 
 
 a wifcj and such a mother. " 
 
 Upon which the fiend-like figure turned 
 round; rushed into the recess; and the 
 door clapped to v/ith violence. 
 
 Immediately after^ there was such a mew- 
 ing as a dozen cats would have made^ had 
 they been shut up in the room ; but no 
 appearance. 
 
 The ladies were terrified; but Margaret^ 
 having commanded silence in a peremptory 
 note^, which was effective, went round to 
 each^ and apologized for the turbulence 
 occasioned by some abettor of evil; pro- 
 mised they should no more be disturbed; 
 and turning her eve to a clock which was 
 fixed on the opposite side^ with a plate of 
 
 near 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 105 
 
 near a yard in diameter^ expressed her 
 surprise at the lateness of the hour^ and 
 ringing a hell, gave orders^ upon the ap- 
 pearnnce of Anna, for some refreshment 
 to be carried into the room. 
 
 Our company, who, not expecting to be 
 so loner detained at the cottaoe^ had made 
 a slight breakfast, intending to take another 
 upon their return, were now sensible of 
 some want of food, yet hesitated to par- 
 take of the viands of witchcraft that were 
 set before them., till the pleasantness and 
 and obli2:in<T manners of the entertainers, 
 banished their apprehensions, and induced 
 them to accept the refection. 
 
 The business of fortune-telling now 
 wore a serious, almost a solemn, aspect. — ■ 
 Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn regretted their having 
 been induced, by the marvellous account 
 of these woodlanders, to indulge their 
 curiositv so far as to visit them: and Wil- 
 liam, still more perplexed than his father 
 and mother, urged their return; but a 
 scorn of seeming to fear, determined them 
 
 F 5 to 
 
106 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 to brave the result, and, with an air of 
 gaiety, and assured incredulity, they de- 
 sired a continuanC'C of the augury. 
 ^ Margaret then informed them, that if 
 they had any objection to an oral, they 
 might have a written testimony of her 
 knowledge of past events; and that their 
 future destiny might likewise be given by 
 the same method. 
 
 This they all approved ; for they all had 
 secrets; — and though the gentlemen, at 
 least, would not acknowledge their affiance 
 in the prescience of the witch, they could 
 not, so forcibly had circumstances operated 
 upon their credulity, absolutely with-hold 
 their belief of her being endued with some 
 extraordinary powers. 
 
 Margaret therefore, having received a 
 general assent, rang a bell that was suspend- 
 ed across the table, and taking a small ivory 
 stick, knocked against the wainscoted 
 recesses, and in a peremptory voice com- 
 manded that all should be readv. 
 
 Zeno, Fatima, Euphrasia, Missenet, and 
 
 Albrasranza 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 107 
 
 Albraganza, were amongst the many names 
 she uttered; saying "Be faithful — Be ready 
 — Be faithful " — then rested her face on 
 her hands, as the necromantic table sup- 
 ported her elbows; and there was, for some 
 minutes, a perfect and an awful silence. 
 
 At length a sounds as from small silver 
 bellsj ran through the recesses; upon which 
 Margaret, lifting up her face, slowly arose; 
 and, after a few moments pause, said — - 
 " Are all in readiness ? '' 
 
 To which, in a soft and silver tone, were 
 sang the following couplets; — • 
 
 ** Gentle mistress, we obey 
 
 ** Thy commands, both night and day. 
 
 *'' From the vales, and from the hills j 
 
 ** From broad rivers, and from rills ; 
 
 ^* From svhere spicey sweets abound; 
 
 ** From the sands on AtVic's ground ; 
 
 *' From the moon and morning star 5 
 
 *' Riding in our airy car, 
 
 ** Thy commands, both night and day, 
 
 " Gentle mistress, we obey." 
 
 F 6 After 
 
108 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 After which^ a shouts in small voices^ 
 . pervaded the wainscot; the door of the 
 recesses flew open, and each niche appear- 
 ed to be occupied by one, and some with 
 two, figures, in height between twenty- 
 five and thirty inches. In the front recess 
 sat two in masculine attire; that which 
 first caught attention wore the appearance 
 of a professor of astronomy; his gown, 
 which was long and black, was wrapt 
 loosely round him; his face was pale; his 
 countenance sweet and gentle; his hair and 
 beard white as snow. Upon a table, on 
 which he seemed to be writing, stood a 
 small globe and an hour-glass; opposite 
 to him, in the Same niche, and resting his 
 hand on the same table, sat a figure dressed 
 in scarlet and gold; his robe, like that of 
 the other, laid at his feet in folds; an open 
 paper was before him, which he seemed 
 to peruse with attention, till the witch 
 said " Aibrao;anza, do vou foresee the 
 event ? " 
 
 Albraganza. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 109 
 
 AlhraganzcL — '' Yes; and except a reno- 
 vation take place, it zdll he direful.'* 
 
 Margaret. — '' Have you closed the ac- 
 count ?" 
 
 Alhraganza. — ''I have." 
 
 Margaret. — " Then cease from your em- 
 ployments^ and wait my farther order." 
 
 The witch, pausing some moments, ad- 
 dressed his companion in the black gown 
 with '' Zeno, I need not ask you, who 
 are ever faithful, v/hether your task is 
 compleated ?" 
 
 Zeno. — '' It is my pleasure to obey you ; 
 I have executed your wishes to the utmost 
 of my power." 
 
 Margaret made similar addresses to the 
 rest of the Lilliputians; and perceiving 
 that all her commands had been duly ex- 
 ecuted, she ordered the curtain to be 
 dropped, which was accordinglv done, by 
 means of a little figure in a corner recess, 
 who arose and touched a spring, when a 
 curtain of green silk fell over the whole 
 arcade, under which the recesses were 
 placed. 
 
 Margaret 
 
110 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Margaret, now summoning Rachael and 
 Anna;, requested that the room might be 
 cleared of the table, globe, and other 
 magical instruments, which was done ac- 
 cordingly; and our three witches seated 
 themselves with the company^ and for 
 some minutes conversed, without restraint, 
 upon indifferent topics. 
 
 At length, the music of some instru- 
 ment, similar to the union of a lute and 
 an organ, saluted their ears; upon which 
 Margaret said '' I believe all is finished;" 
 and rising from her seat^ walked slov.dy to 
 the other end of the room, vvhen striking 
 upon the wainscot with her ivory v/and, 
 the curtain rolled up, and discovered a 
 figure taller than any they had seen ; dress- 
 ed in the colours of the rainbow, holding 
 in her hand a sealed parcel of papers. 
 
 " Iris," asked Margaret, ^' from whence 
 came you } " 
 
 Iris. — ^'^'^ From the four winds; from the 
 poles; and fr m the centre of the earth; to 
 obey thy commands^ gentle mistress." 
 
 Margaret. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 1 1 ] 
 
 Margaret. — '' By whom were you com- 
 missioned to bear those papers hither ? " 
 
 Isis. — "By Zeno; by Zenophon; and by 
 Albraganza/' 
 
 Margaret. — '' Bring them to me// 
 
 The figure then advanced into the mid- 
 dle of the room; delivered the papers to 
 the witch; and^ making a profound obei- 
 sance^ returned to the recess; and the door^ 
 as usual, closed the arch. 
 
 Margaret, with the parcel in her hand^ 
 approached the company, and breaking 
 the seal, presented a separate enclosure to 
 every person present, with an injunction 
 not to open it, till his or her return to 
 Ivy Tower. 
 
 Glad to be dismissed from a scene so 
 different to what they had expected, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Selwyn instantly arose to leave 
 the Cottage, to the high satisfaction of 
 their son, who, notwithstanding his appa- 
 rent bravery, was under trembling appre- 
 hension that some of the feculence of his 
 heart should be displayed. 
 
 The 
 
112 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 The offer of money to our fortune- 
 tellers was^ to the surprise of the gentr};^, 
 politely refused; with a reply, that the 
 pleasure of entertaining such a party^ had 
 more than reouited what thev mio:ht deem 
 a trouble; more and still more astonished, 
 the company looked upon each other with 
 silent expression ; and, with more obeisance 
 than they had entered, walked out of the 
 room. But the measure of their amaze- 
 ment was not yet completely filled. 
 
 Passing through the little vestibule^ they 
 perceived the parrot in his suspended car, 
 swinf^ing from side to side, as before, as if 
 in great wrath, and instantly, in the same 
 dissonant tone, their ears were assailed by 
 
 The sound of the drum 
 Will strike the squire dumb. 
 The tower will shake ; 
 And Dickey will quake. 
 The Morning will (^awn. 
 And shine o'er the lawn. 
 Then justice will judge, 
 And Dickey must budge. 
 
 Galled 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESEIIT. 113 
 
 Galled to their hearts^ Mr. Selwyn^ his 
 wife^ and son, walked forward, pretendedly 
 deaf to sounds which they could not but 
 apply. 
 
 Rachael, who was with the company^ 
 made an apology for the rudeness of the 
 verse; and lamented the ungovernabieness 
 of the wayward bird, who, she said, would 
 now, perhaps, appear sullen, and not speak 
 for some days. 
 
 '' No apology is required '* said William 
 Selwyn, ^' the impertinence of parrots and 
 women arealike contemptible." In saying 
 which \id walked onward, without deigning 
 to make a departing honour. 
 
 In a m.ood less frolicsome than they 
 descended, did they climb the hill; the 
 four young ladies and the two Congreve^ 
 seemed so filled with wonder that, undismay 
 ed, and in high good humouras they were, 
 they yet could scarcely smile. 
 
 The father, mother, and son, were re 
 served, even to sullenness; they spake not 
 one syllable till they had passed the wicket, 
 
 and 
 
114 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 and then they spake only to execrate;-— 
 '' The cursed infernal sorcery " — (we use 
 the language of Mr. Selwyn ) — " of those 
 d — n — d d-v-ls of witches ! who, he be- 
 lieved, curse him if he did not, were in 
 league with the imps of / '' 
 
 " Nay, Sir/' said Lavinia, " if they 
 do not teli truth, why should we suppose 
 they employ supernatural powers ! '' 
 
 " Tell truth ! what do you mean ? how 
 
 do 1/ou know any thing about it ? " — ask- 
 ed Mr. Selwyn. 
 
 '' About what. Sir/* said Lavinia, alarm- 
 ed^ '' I do not know what you mean!" 
 
 '' Well, well/' replied Mr. Selwyn, re- 
 collecting himself, ^' let us drop this foolish 
 subject; I only am provoked at having 
 rendered myself so ridiculous as to coun- 
 tenance such reprehensible proceedings.'' 
 
 '' But is it not extraordinary. Sir " in- 
 terrogated the artless Selina, ^' that parrots 
 and monkeys, to say nothing about the 
 little gentry^ should talk so rationally ? " 
 
 ''Had you heard the dog'' — said William 
 
 Seiwvn, 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 1 1 5 
 
 Selwyn, impelled by the strangeness of the 
 circumstance to mention (contrary to his 
 determination) that part of the phenome- 
 naj — '' Had you lieared the dog, you would 
 have been amazed; I must confess some 
 of the circumstances are^ indeed^ unac- 
 countable " — a confession in which they 
 all most heartily coincided ; and every one 
 expressed his or her astonishment on such 
 or such particular incidents. 
 
 Horatio Congreve gave it as his opinion^ 
 that there were some assisting hands be- 
 hind the recesses, which they had not been 
 permitted to see. 
 
 " No indeed. Sir/' — said Fanny, who 
 appeared in such terror as scarce to be 
 able to walk — '' I am certain I went with 
 the young woman — Anna, I think they 
 called — over all the house; for she ask- 
 ed me to go; and I could safely swear 
 there was not a living creature in it, 
 except some cats, which did not appear 
 before you all : besides, if there had, 
 you know. Sir, how could they make 
 
 those 
 
116 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 those little people and the dumb creatures 
 to speak such things I oh ! I never shall 
 forget it so long as I live ! never dare 
 I sleep alone any more^ if it were only 
 for what that .horrid parrot said to me^ 
 when I went out of the room; for he 
 told me — oh ! I never shall forget it 1 — 
 he told me " 
 
 '' I believe " said Mr. Selwyn^ " it 
 would be best not to say any more of 
 what we have either seen or heard; let 
 us^ if possible^ forget every incident of 
 the morning, and drive the cottage itself 
 from our remembrance; for which reason 
 let us agree to burn^, unopened, the 
 papers given us by the sorceress; put 
 them into my hands^ I will tie them 
 together^ and throw them into the fire 
 before your faces, the moment we shall 
 enter the library." '^Agreed," said Mrs. 
 
 Selwvn. 
 
 " Agreed," said William, and presented 
 their packets to their senior; whose inten- 
 tion^, as his son, and perhaps as his lady, 
 
 divined 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 1 1 7 
 
 divined, was to get possession of the wri- 
 ting to Lavinia. 
 
 Both the gentlemen above mentioned, 
 knew this lovely creature was destined for 
 the cloister; a destination they neither of 
 them wished totally to avert ; the ultima- 
 tion of their meditated kindness, was only 
 to bestow upon her an indisputable right 
 to the title of a penitent, by decoying 
 her into a conduct which would render 
 penitence absolutely essential to her fu- 
 ture peace. 
 
 '' Was his lady as well as his son " — 
 will be a question with our querists- — '' in 
 secret of the senior's generous intention?'" 
 
 An answer in the affirmative will, perhaps, 
 be deemed an almost impossible absurdity; 
 for who, unversed in fashionable conjugal 
 felicity, can believe that a wife would wink 
 at, and even smile at, a husband's infidelity ! 
 whocredit that shew^ouldaid, abet, contrive, 
 schemes for his success in the destruction 
 of lovely innocence ! 
 
 Horrid depravity ! detestable degeneracy 
 of feminine rectitude and purity ! 
 
 Angel 
 
118 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Angel incarnate ! — as we have heretofore 
 justly denominated thee — woman of virtue^ 
 piety^ and truth! — guard, strictly guard 
 every avenue to that inestimable storehouse 
 of bliss for man — thy yet untainted heart ! 
 — let no envy of even a rival's beauty; no 
 malice; no hatred; no pride; no self-in- 
 terestj inimicable to the felicity of others; 
 corrupt thy purity; be, as thou wert in- 
 tended by thy creator, the ornament; the 
 glory; the fairest of his works! 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF TUE DESEKT. 119 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Sptcial reasoning for Monastic Seclusion — the 
 inspection of the written Augury — and 
 comments on the Prediction* 
 
 Neither the advice of Mr. Selwyn, 
 nor the example of his wife and son^, could 
 prevail with the young people to part 
 with the written prediction of what was 
 deemed sorcery^ till after the perusal. 
 
 '' No/' was the sense of the reply of 
 one and all; '' we will read our future 
 destiny however^ after having come thus 
 far to obtain that information.'' — Mr, 
 Selwyn was angry : ^*^as for you^ gentlemen/' 
 
 addressing 
 
120 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 — addressing Horatio and Ferdinand Con- 
 greve — '' it is degrading to both your 
 education and your sex, to place any 
 reliance on the prediction of a foolish 
 old beldam'; and you^ young Ladies" — 
 speaking to the four — " are already ac- 
 quainted with your lot in future life; it 
 being the result of both the ivisdom and 
 affection of those who have^, as they 
 ought to have^ unlimited power over 
 your destiny; for if I have not been er- 
 roneously informed. Miss Rosemont^ both 
 you and your sister are intended for the 
 veil." 
 
 ^' We are^ Sir/' replied Miss Rosemont^ 
 with a sigh and a blush. 
 
 '' But permit me, my dear papa/' asked 
 the lively Emily Selwyn^ " to enquire, 
 whether parents or parental friends have 
 a just title to condemn their children 
 to a convent for life, contrary to their 
 children's inclination ? " 
 
 '' Contrary to their inclination, child ! you 
 absolutely astonish me ! if the lady abbess 
 
 4 has 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 121 
 
 has taught you to reason tbius absurdly^ 
 you shall no longer be under her 
 tuition, I can promise you. There are 
 other convents besides that in the De- 
 sert; contrary to their inclination indeed! 
 what virtuous daughter would wish to 
 live in the world, contrary to the will of 
 the authors of her being ! what prudent 
 g'rl woulddesire to leave so happy an asylum 
 as a monastery; where every wish that 
 is not criminal^ rs gratified! You asto- 
 nish me^ child! where, or from v/hom^ 
 can you have learned this questioning ? '* 
 
 '' Not from the lady abbess^ I will as- 
 sure you. Sir/' answered the undaunted 
 Emily, '' she is always preaching up duty, 
 obedience, and the charms of retirement; 
 though I must own, as to the last, her 
 arguments have not, to me, been very 
 convincing; as I think there is as much 
 pleasure to be met with at Ivy Tower 
 as in the Convent." 
 
 '' And is it possible '* exclaimed the 
 mother, '' that a daughter of mine can 
 
 VOL. I. G utter 
 
122 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Utter such indecent sentiments! indeed^ 
 Emily Selwyn^ I am ashamed of you ! 
 Fie^ fie upon you ! what do you mean 
 by talking so much like a wanton! Had 
 I not^ at a very early age^ let me tell 
 yoUj met with your father, I certainly 
 should have taken the veil/' 
 
 ^' Then, my dear mamma, you certainly 
 would most grievously have repented^ 
 before the lapse of half the time since. 
 The convent is a mighty pretty place, 
 and there are, within our district, mighty 
 fine walks, of which, v/hile I know I 
 can leave them, I confess I am very fond; 
 but indeed I think " 
 
 ^' I insist upon you silence I " said Mr. 
 Selwyn, with sternness ; ^' you know 
 not the dangerous tendency of your 
 conversation ; suppose your sister — sup- 
 pose Miss Rosemont and Miss Selina 
 were to be contaminated by your sen- 
 timents, what pretty work would ensue! 
 Sophy, my dear, you have more sobriety 
 of understanding than your sister; and will, 
 
 I ho^c. 
 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 1 S3 
 
 I hope, endeavour to render her submis- 
 sive to her dutv." 
 
 '*" I have too good an opinion. Sir, of 
 my sister/* replied Sophia, '' to imagine 
 she needs any lessons from me on that 
 subject.'* 
 
 '' I cannot but acknowledge ** said 
 William Selwyn, turning his eye upon 
 his father, the language of which he 
 perfectly understood, ^' I cannot but ac- 
 knowledge, that the sight of so much 
 beauty before me, biasses my opinion 
 in favour of liberty; what has heaven to 
 do with angels, so long as they continue in 
 this world ? ** 
 
 ^' You were ever an enemy to your 
 sister's taking the veil, William,'* falsely 
 asserted Mr. Selwyn ; " If I did not know^ 
 your generosity, I should conjecture 
 your disapprobation arose from your 
 know^ledge of the large sum, with which, 
 on their account, that they may receive 
 peculiar respect from the Sisterhood, I 
 intend to endow the Convent.'* 
 
 G 2 '' Your 
 
124: THE NUNS OF THE DESERT^ 
 
 "^ Your pleasure certainly ought to be 
 ours. Sir/' returned William; '' but do you 
 think Miss Rosemont — do you Miss Selina, 
 — that it is right to consign so much 
 loveliness to oblivion, during the en- 
 chanting period of youth?" 
 ^ *"' I think the arguments i/ou use. Sir, 
 against seclusion, are not convincing,'* 
 answered Lavinia, with dignity in her air 
 and manner, ^' age and deformity have the 
 same claim to free will in this respect, 
 and on other accounts of equal conse- 
 quence, as youth and beauty: and, in 
 giving my opinion, I am sure I speak 
 that of my sister/' 
 
 ^' Yes, indeed,'' replied Selina, with 
 great modesty, '' that you always do ; 
 I should be sorry to dissent from you in 
 any instance." 
 
 Horace Congreve, who had observed 
 Lavinia with an eye of rapturous affection, 
 which, well knowing Selwyn and his son, 
 he was cautious of displaying, said, almost 
 
 impulsively 
 
THE NUKS OF THE DESERT, 125 
 
 impulsively^ '' that he could not but con- 
 ceive the institution of convents was 
 an intended resource from positive and 
 present evil; not a preclusion of pro- 
 bable future felicity/' 
 
 Ferdinand — before Mr. Selwyn could 
 prevent his speaking — said^ "^ that common 
 equity gave both sexes^ at all ages^ a 
 right to, at leasts a negative^ in points 
 of individual and exclusive happiness ; 
 and that no one could have a just title 
 to compel another to make a vow which 
 certainly^ if extorted^mustcease to be obli- 
 gatory^ as reason could not disallow/' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Se!v/yn^ as with one voice^ 
 at the same instant, vociferated loudly 
 against the sentim.ents of the last speakers, 
 condemning, with peculiar acrimony, such 
 disobedient principles in young people, 
 as taught them to dispute the right of their 
 parents, guardians, and other protecting 
 relations, to dispose of them in any man- 
 ner they should deem best for the honour 
 
 G 3 of 
 
1 26 THE NUKS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 of the family from which they were de- 
 scended^ or to which allied. 
 
 '' Are not parents the best judges of 
 children's happiness ? '' asked Mr Selwyn. 
 '' Must not mothers^ in particular, best 
 know what will promote that of their 
 daughters ? " interrogated the lady, with 
 an air, indicative of haughty ire and super- 
 cilious contempt. 
 
 *' Your questions cannot but receive an 
 aitirmative;'* replied the artful V/illiam, 
 '' yet there may possibly be found some 
 fexv exceptions to your general rule; not 
 that I think either of rn/i/ sisters will con- 
 sider themselves as exceptions." 
 
 ^•' In my opinion " rejoined Horatio, 
 *' both questions demand an unqualified 
 negative; there may be, as you allow, some 
 few exceptions; but, in general, young 
 people, properly educated^ know their own 
 happiness as well as those, who, forgetful 
 of juvenile enjoyments, confine their wishes 
 within the gratification of sordid self-in- 
 terestj and think a provision for one part ef 
 
 their 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 127 
 
 their family is laudably effected, at the 
 expence of all their other children's purer 
 felicity/' 
 
 " You have anticipated my speech^ 
 Horace/' said Ferdinand; I reverence the 
 principle of filial obedience; but not a 
 father of many children y/ho forgets that 
 he has more than one/' 
 
 *' Upon my word, gentlemen ! you 
 express a fine spirit of independance, 
 considering your situation. Would you not 
 suppose, Miss Rosemont, that these young 
 men had something more to depend upon 
 than my bounty ? " was Mr. Selwyn's con- 
 temptuously angry interrogation. 
 
 ^^Were fortune's favours always annexed 
 to merit, indeed I should. Sir," was Lavi- 
 nia's too sincere answer to the question. 
 
 " Miss Rosemontj Ferdinand, and I, are 
 your debtors : we are, let me observe, 
 independent of every human being; the 
 mind which nature has divided between my 
 brother and myself, gires that independ- 
 ence; and will, I trust, through life, pre- 
 serve it to us, ^' though fortune frowns her 
 G 4 hate" 
 
128 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 hate'" replied Horatio; while Ferdinand 
 looked his coincidence of sentiment. 
 
 By this time the carriages stopped to 
 receive them^ which prevented any farther 
 altercation; scarce a syllable w^as uttered 
 during the ride^ and when they arrived at 
 Ivy Towerj each individual retired to his or 
 her apartment^ to revolve the preceding 
 circumstances^ and to investigate the 
 written prediction of the much - famed 
 Woodland Witches. 
 
 When Mr. Selwyn^ Mrs. Selwyn^ and 
 William^ perused their manuscripts^ the 
 hair upon their heads stood almost up- 
 right. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the surprise 
 which took possession of their minds^ upon 
 seeing their private family transactions^ 
 and their individual conduct, displayed 
 in terms the most forcible; in colours the 
 most striking. 
 
 William^ whose vicious propensities 
 were veiled under an air of gallantry, and 
 whose selfishness was disguised by a cun- 
 ning assumption of extravagance, saw his 
 
 heart 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 129 
 
 heart depicted in its native sombre hue, 
 and was disgusted at the likeness which 
 his consciousness could not disown; in a ^ 
 rage^ and with avow of revenge on the 
 diviner^ he tore in twenty pieces, and 
 threw in the fire, the offending paper; 
 walked several times across the room, in 
 ireful mood; then dressed his face in smiles, 
 and appeared upon the lawn in front of 
 the house, that no conjecture, from his 
 non-appearance, might be formed of what 
 passed in his turbulent bosom; — so com- 
 plete a master was he of suiting his coun- 
 tenance to every occasion. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn was more deeply, if possible, 
 chagrined than his son; and of late years, 
 having set himself above the opinion of 
 the world, not so much as formerly in the 
 luibit of dictating to his features, looked 
 like direful malignancy personified. His 
 past atrocious conduct — his most private 
 villanous actions — his meditated designs, 
 similar to his preceding delinquencies — 
 all, all; set before him in array. '' It was 
 G 5 strange ! 
 
130 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Strange ! — it was passing strange ! — -there 
 was not a human creature in existence that 
 was privy to what he there read ! — and yet 
 he did not — no he did not — believe in the 
 contemptible prediction of a parcel of fool- 
 ish women ;— yet again^ if they knew past 
 secrets^ which had long been consigned to 
 oblivion's deepest cave, might they not^ 
 by the same infernal means, know events 
 in future ! — but I will frustrate their h-ll-sh 
 machinations, by pursuing my designs with 
 more vigour than ever ; I will not be over 
 ruled; nor shall my plans, thus far success- 
 fulj be demolished by the league of diabo- 
 lical engines. I will proceed; and neither 
 man nor d-'7-l shall disappoint my expec- 
 tations/' 
 
 Thus reasoned^ and thus determined, Mr. 
 Selwyn^ walking out of his apartment, 
 baving likewise committed his paper to the 
 all-devouring eiem.ent; v/hilehate and dire 
 revenge still hovered o'er bis bjov/^ and 
 darkened his complexian. 
 
 The 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 13 V 
 
 The lady of the mansion was more actively 
 furious than either of the two gentlemen 
 above mentioned ; her rage was so violent 
 as to occasion strong convulsions^ in which 
 she would not be attended by any one but 
 her faithful Fanny. In her packet, her 
 secret amours were m-inutely pourtrayed; 
 her intentions proclaimed; the fall of her 
 house^ and disgrace of her family, precisely 
 predicted. 
 
 Fanny, by her sympathising manner, en- 
 deavoured to allay the fervour of her 
 mistress's spirit. 
 
 In words of the sharpest acrimony, she 
 inveighed against the Witches; whose wri- 
 ting she vowed she would not even read ; 
 and, highly to the gratification of her lady's 
 resentment, tossed the necromantic scroll 
 in the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn almost smiled, in the midst 
 of her passionate distress, at the girl's 
 i:evenge on the passive paper; and, from 
 that hour, received her into higher^ and ■.' 
 
 gG. still. 
 
132 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Still higher favour^ till every secret^ save 
 one^ was entrusted to her fidelity. 
 
 The papers to Sophia and Emily con- 
 firmed their right to an independent fortune. 
 
 To the firsts it was predicted, . that she 
 and Miss Rosemont should, in process of 
 time, be distinguished by the same name; 
 to the other, that she should be mother to 
 five, and grandmother to seventeen, chil- 
 dren; upon which she burst into a violent 
 fit of laughter, and said, that would be 
 better than being a nun. 
 
 Selina w^as warned against a deceiver, 
 ^<1io, it assured her, studied only her de- 
 struction; and, except she should carefully 
 guard herself against his arts, it was pro- 
 nounced, she would be ruined past 
 redemption. She w^as told, that she w^as 
 sentenced to take the veil ; that if she did 
 she would repent; that if she resisted 
 the imposing mandate with firmness, and 
 preserved her integrity, she would, in a 
 short period, find herself in pleasant cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 The 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 133 
 
 The writing to Lavinia was couched in 
 terms the most mysterious; her affection 
 for Horatio Congreve was plainly indicated, 
 and she was incited not to discourage his 
 hope; but all the rest was unintelligible; 
 against taking the veil^ she was exhorted 
 in terms the most solemn; that her com- 
 pliance would hurl ruin on many^ and 
 draw destruction on herself and those 
 she most loved. That if she lived in the 
 world, she should be exalted to honour^ 
 and be the me*ins of making numbers 
 happy; that one of her parents was in 
 servile circumstances, but that the other 
 graced a court ; that they were severed 
 by sovereign command; but that the 
 Morning should shine upon the authors 
 of her being, if she look not the veil. 
 
 This prediction set the young friends, 
 who scarcely knew their own belief in the 
 prescience of the Woodland Witches, in 
 the midst of wonder; '' What can this 
 mean ? what can that portend ? what are 
 we to think of it altogether ? was echoed 
 
 and 
 
ISi THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 and re-echoed from one to another fair 
 friend, till the second bell summoned 
 them to appear at the dining table; from 
 which Mrs. Selwyn, who had began to 
 abate of her rigid determination of seclu- 
 sion^again absented; her resentment against 
 beauty, against the fair visitants, and even 
 against her own daughters, having revived 
 with increased acrimony. 
 
 Horace and Ferdinand had perused their 
 packets v/ith much astonishment; as all 
 they remembered, or could collect, of 
 their family circumstances, were minutely 
 related; which disposed them to give more 
 credence to assertions respecting those 
 particulars with which they were unac- 
 cjiuainted; and even to what regarded 
 futurity, than they were naturally disposed^ 
 to affix to the science of augury. 
 
 It had, of late years, been the custom-^ 
 of Mr. Selwyn to lament to the twin bro- 
 thers the intricacies attending the affairs 
 of thoir family; to observe, that the 
 amazing extravagance of their father had 
 
 driveu 
 
THE NUKS OF THE DESERT. 135 
 
 driven him from his native country, where 
 he left their mother struo-irjinor with diffi- 
 ciiltics which she could not surmount; 
 that instead of retrievinsr, she had. for 
 want of either experience or prudence, 
 and from the corrupt principles of an 
 attorney, in whom, against his remon- 
 strance, she obstinately confided, plunged 
 deeper, and still deeper, in ruin; which, 
 when she w^as made sensible of the true 
 state of the case, absolutely broke her 
 heart; that he had, in some measure, 
 alleviated the poignancy of her distress, 
 bv promising to protect her children, 
 which he had done and zvould do, to the 
 utmost of his power; though the remnant 
 of their parents' fortune should not be 
 SLifiicient to defray the expences of their 
 education. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn w^ould then offer to the 
 perusal of his young wards^ family accounts 
 (forged on purpose for their perusal), 
 which shewed how much they were his 
 debtors; but Vt^hlch this generous s^uardian 
 3 of 
 
136 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 of orphans said he but little regarded; the 
 less^ as he had the infinite satisfaction of 
 having performed his promise to a dying 
 woman in distress. 
 
 All thisj as they had no reason to doubt 
 the truth of Selwyn's assertions^ the youths 
 believed; and as they were educated by 
 his son's tutor^ and treated with a show of 
 affection^ they conceived themselves as 
 under obligations to him; though they 
 found notj in any one of the family^, a 
 congenial mind. 
 
 By Margaret's prediction^ they were bid' 
 to look forv/ard to the possession of a large- 
 estate^ which she affirmed was theirs by 
 the laws of their country. It likewise 
 intimated the want of integrity in their 
 guardian; and^ in mystic language, it 
 talked of a lady beautiful as the break of 
 day^ when clouds do not interpose; yet 
 authorised them to pursue the lovely 
 objects of their affection. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 13'7' 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 Champaign-^T/ie Forest'^What can save her. 
 
 Hi VERY day, every hour, cemented, 
 indissolubly, the union of hearts witnessed 
 by the twin brothers and our two fair nuns 
 elect. Every day, likewise, did Mr. Selwyn,. 
 by the studied softness of his manner, gain 
 upon the confidence of Lavinia; who loved 
 and reverenced him as the father of her 
 beloved Sophia, and, perhaps still more, 
 as the protecting friend of her dearer 
 Horatio. 
 
 Is 
 
137 THE NUNS OP THE IHESERT. 
 
 IsLavinia Rosemont justified in allowing 
 herself to acknowledge, even to herself, 
 that she was conscious of its being possible 
 for her to have a more fervent affection 
 for any one than that which glowed in her 
 breast for Sophia SeJwyn ? if not, we must 
 leave her to mercy; as we cannot disown 
 the truth of the circumstance. 
 
 A short period v^ith a lovely young girl^ 
 unhackneyed in the ways of men^ conse- 
 quently unsuspecting of deceit, had done 
 more to subjugating her affection thaa 
 could have been effected in a twelvemonth, 
 with a young lady educated in the school 
 of the world, where reserve, caution, and 
 the necessity of disguising the pure senti- 
 ments of nature, are the tares sown with 
 the earliest seeds of instruction, which 
 spring up, and choak that Good Seed 
 planted by the Great Creative Hand in the 
 infant bosom of His most choice terres- 
 trial work. 
 
 Nor was the progress of the passion less 
 
 rapid 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 139 
 
 rapid in the breast of Horatio; in a few 
 days it arrived at its zenith^ and was fixed 
 ior ever. 
 
 We are now to suppose ourselves seated 
 at the dining table in a magnificent apart • 
 nient in Ivy Tower^ where all the party^ 
 Mrs. Selwyn excepted^ were assembled. 
 
 The discontented endeavoured^ and in 
 appearance succeeded, to chase their vex- 
 ation; the happy ones indulged their 
 pleasantness, so that the scene was anima- 
 ting; and the father and son, to aid their 
 purposes, circulate the champaign as briskly 
 as possible: but the utmost they could 
 effect was the inebriation of the Congreves 
 and themselves ; for the ladies were invul- 
 nerable to their persuasions, of taidng 
 more than usual. 
 
 After dinner, a message, as had been 
 concerted, was delivered to Sophia and 
 Emily, from their mother, desiring to see 
 them in her dressing room. 
 
 They instantly obeyed the summons; the 
 
 Misses 
 
140 THE NUKS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 Misses Rosemont^ contrary to the importu- 
 nity of the gentlemen^ retiring with them^ 
 going into the music room^ as their friends 
 went up stairs. 
 
 After their departure^ Mr. Selwyn and 
 William still plied the Congreves with the 
 intoxicating fluids till they found it expe- 
 dient to retire to their chambers^ to sleep 
 off the effect. 
 
 Selwyn and hh son now sallied forth 
 ^n pursuit of the lovely Rosemonts, and 
 found Lavinia at the organ ; surprised at 
 the harmony she produced, they stood 
 some time to listen, and could not but 
 acknowledge, she excelled all they had 
 heard practice on that sovereign instru- 
 ment. 
 
 Lavinia, v/hose soul was harmony itself,, 
 had never been taught this accomplishment; 
 but having been a favourite with the teacher 
 in the school, where she and Seiina were 
 boarded, previous to their removal to the 
 Convent in the Desert, she was allowed 
 to sit in the room where the master in that 
 
 science 
 
TpE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 14 4 
 
 science instructed his pupils^ and, by that 
 means, obtained much more knowledoe 
 of music, both theoretic and practical, 
 than those he was paid for teaching. 
 
 The father aaid his son now held a con- 
 sultation on the proper mode of proceeding, 
 so as best to facilitate the designs of the 
 family, and agreed to retire to the wilder- 
 ness, and from thence to send a message, 
 in the names of Sophia and Emily, to 
 request the company of their destined 
 lovely prey. 
 
 They did; and succeeding in their 
 design of drawing them to that retirement, 
 calculated for the prosecution of every 
 noble and every debasing purpose; — for 
 elevating the human soul to the sublimity 
 of angels; — for degrading the mind of 
 man below the brutality of the fabled 
 Satyr. 
 
 At the skirts of the wilderness, Mr. 
 Selwyn met the fair sisters, and attaching 
 himself to Lavinia, conducted her onward, 
 as William appeared at one of the glades, 
 
 and 
 
143 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 and approached Selina, who, too willingly, 
 permitted him to lead her into the bosom 
 of the wood, w^here we must leave her, in 
 a situation the most perilous imaginable ; 
 retirement, with a handsome young man, 
 of loose principles whose aim was her 
 destruction, while her heart, naturally 
 gentle, and naturally credulous, already 
 beat her approbation of his professions. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn, to whom, as has been 
 observed, Lavinia looked up with reverence^ 
 conducted his blooming companion to a 
 temple in the centre of a beautiful spot, 
 denominated the orangery, where telling 
 her that Sophia would soon join them, he 
 seated her upon a bank overhung by 
 branches of the fragrant plant which gave 
 name to the rotund. 
 
 For some time the conversation was 
 unexceptionable, but gradually leading 
 the subject to love, Mr. Selwyn painted 
 it's joys in such ripened colours, that Miss 
 Rosemont started, and looking earnestly 
 
 in 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 143 
 
 in hh face, saw the colouring heightened 
 by the expression which beamed from 
 every feature. 
 
 Alarmed beyond her power of utterance, 
 yet condemning her own fears, she hastily 
 arose, and in a tremulous voice, said, she 
 w^ould go and enquire what detained Miss 
 Selwyn. 
 
 It was now that our gentleman discarded 
 his mask, and threw off the cloak of hos- 
 pitality, which had covered his villanous 
 intentions, by clasping her in his arms, 
 and re-seating her on the verdant sofa. 
 
 He then avowed the most puee and 
 ardent passion for her, declaring that 
 without her, existence would to him be 
 a curse, and swearing, that such divine 
 charms should never be lost within the 
 gloomy walls of a monastery; which was 
 a proper receptacle only for women of 
 ordinary features, and not for her, who 
 ought to be Queen of the Globe. For 
 some time he ran on this style ; Lavinia 
 being too much terrified to attempt a 
 
 second 
 
143 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 second removal, and^ scarce hearing what 
 he said^ was considering how she could 
 escape. 
 
 Construino: her silence into a tacit 
 acceptance of his professions, he proceeded 
 ' rapturously pressing her to his breast, 
 with oiTers of riches, honours, pleasures, 
 and every temptation which men, unread 
 in the mind of a virtuous woman, believe 
 will baffle the effects of the best education ; 
 ■ — subvert principle — subdue every religi- 
 ous precept — consequently destroy virtue 
 itself, and eventually lead the yielding fair 
 one to the paths of inevitable destruction; 
 happy, if of only her share of sublunary 
 bliss ! ! ! 
 
 Can this opinion — built upon a com- 
 merce with the most Vv^orthless — with 
 dishonourers of the name of woman — be 
 too much reprobated ? or its adopters held 
 in too much contempt and detestation? 
 
 No; every opprobrious epithet is theirs 
 of right; and whoever professes to enter- 
 tain the sentiment, ought to be hunted 
 out of civilised society. 
 
 Mr. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 145 
 
 Mr. Selwyn, impressed with the belief 
 of his being favored^ proceeded to such 
 personal freedom as incited the strongest 
 resistance from Lavinia. Tearing herself 
 from his detested embrace^ she attempted 
 to spring over a row of young orange 
 treeSj but he caught hold of her gown^ as 
 she was flying from him^ and drawing her 
 back^ once more forcibly seated her upon 
 the bank^ and throwing himself by her 
 side^ again clasped his arm around her; 
 swore she should be his^ and his only; 
 sometimes vowing never-ceasing affection, 
 then vaunting in his power^ threatening 
 revenge for her disdainful repulsion of 
 offers which^ he said^ would honour a 
 w^oman of the first rank. 
 
 He then insisted on her listening in 
 silence to a repetition of his proposals; 
 saying, that if she refused to hear him, he 
 should consider it as a modest confession 
 of her being already satisfied, and should 
 not fail to take instant possession of a 
 prize w^hich he deemed invaluable. 
 
 VOL. I. H Terrified 
 
146 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 TeiTified bv his artful threat, and knowing 
 herself to be so entirely in his power, 
 that an endeavour to escape would be not 
 only fruitless, but probably fatal, she sat 
 silent with hope of some incidental — in 
 her own language, only that wx do not 
 w^ish to degrade her in the opinion of 
 genteel people — but in her ow^n language, 
 in the secret idiom of her heart, she sat in 
 silent hope, yet wdth a throbbing breast, 
 of some Providential interference in her 
 favour; perhaps by the arrival of the young 
 L-adies, or by some means unexpected. 
 
 Selwyn then proposed her removal to 
 a sweet retreat in a distant county; where 
 she should appear to the world in the cha- 
 racter of a young widow of quality, and 
 be maintained in a splendor equal, if that 
 wxre possible, to her merit and beauty; 
 that, at the death of his wife, who, he 
 said, the first physicians in the metropolis 
 had pronounced w^as labouring under a 
 disorder absolutely incurable, he would 
 eive her a le^^-al rio^ht to his name, and 
 
 conduct 
 
THE NUNS O? THE DESERT. 147 
 
 conduct her in triumph to Ivy Tower; 
 that, on account of the attachment which, 
 with pleasure, he saw between her and 
 Sophia, she (his daughter) should not, as 
 otherwise he intended, be consigned to a 
 monastic life, but live with her as a com- 
 panion and friend; that he doubted not 
 but, under these circumstances, his Son 
 would marry her Sister, who, she could not 
 but perceive, was partially disposed towards 
 him; that, till that period, Selina should 
 either live with her, or retire to the 
 Convent v/ith his daughters; that, to pre- 
 serve her reputation in the eyes of the few 
 people, who, from narrow principles, con- 
 fined understanding, or vulgar education^ 
 would censure her conduct, her flight should 
 not appear to be voluntary; he would seize 
 her in the midst of her companions, and 
 carry her off; after y/hich she might write 
 to Sophia, and receive her answers directed 
 to a third place, without informing her 
 where, or with whom, she. was made as 
 happy as woman could wish; tc substantiate 
 
 H 2 which 
 
148 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 which boast;, would be the pride^ the 
 pleasure^ of his existence. 
 
 He talked a great deal more to the same 
 purpose — painting, in vivid colours^ the 
 charms of such a life; and ridiculing the 
 preposterous principles of those who 
 would raise objections to such a scen^ of 
 fel city ; to not one syllable of which 
 she attended. Her mental prayer was for 
 the appearance of Sophia, who, she 
 wondered, did not keep her supposed 
 appointment. 
 
 Selwyn, whose rhetoric on the subject 
 was entirely exhausted, now demanded her 
 determination; when, listening in vain for 
 footsteps, and in vain looking for the 
 appearance of her friend, she arose from 
 her seat, and with the most dignified air 
 that even virtue could assume, spoke in 
 words which reached the heart of her de- 
 termined destroyer, and almost disarmed 
 him of resolution. 
 
 ^^Were I created for only a short duration 
 upon this terrestrial globe^ and given to 
 
 know 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 149 
 
 know that my hope of happiness would 
 expire with my last drawn breathy still 
 there is a secret charm in virtue that would 
 render your purposes most odious ! — most 
 abhorrent ! — but when I live assured that^ 
 after the lapse of a few swiftly passing 
 years^ I shall^ for a moment^ cease to live, 
 only that 1 may live again for ever. What 
 is there within the purchase of your fortune, 
 great as it is, that can be deemed equiva- 
 lent to the loss of one hour's felicity 
 beyond the grave ? The bliss of conscious 
 innocence alone, I prize beyond any offer 
 you can make. Did you know its intrinsic 
 value, you would judge it, as I do, to be 
 mestim.able; believe me. Sir," — continued 
 she, with an air of native dignity, and with 
 a brilliancy of eye that looked him into 
 momentary awe — '' Virtue is more than a 
 name \- — more than you can conceive it to 
 be ! — more than riches or honours, or any 
 pleasures independent of itself; which is 
 bliss below, and will be bliss hereafter." — 
 She ceased. 
 
 H 3 Selwyn, 
 
150 THE NUNS OP THE TT^SERT* 
 
 Selwyn^ for a moment, looked at her in 
 admiration^ and with astonishment. 
 
 He almost even trembled ; but^ ashamed 
 of his sensation^ he recollected his reso- 
 lution; and a third time seizing her in his 
 armS;, silenced all her remonstrance by a 
 rude pressure of her lips, proceeding to 
 indecencies, that, had not indignadon 
 given her both spirit and strength, must 
 have terminated in the total destruction of 
 her peace of mind. 
 
 Struggling violently against his base 
 encroachments^ she again disengaged her- 
 self from his brutal grasp; but was again 
 overpowered by his superior strength. 
 
 '' My GOD !— my GOD !— this once 
 deliver me !" — cried she with energy, — 
 ^' or strike me dead; for Thou art the GOD 
 of the friendless !" 
 
 " Pray on, my pretty puritan ! — said 
 the savage Selwyn, laughing, — " After this 
 evening thou wilt make a charming mourn- 
 ing nun ! But bless me with consent, my 
 
 fairest J 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 151 
 
 fairest, or thou wilt have no claim to the 
 superior title of a penitent/' 
 
 ^'Sophia! Oh, Sophia!" — exclaimed she 
 as she fainted — " Why hast thou deserted 
 thy friend ! — then, giving a piercing scream, 
 sank lifeless on the ground. 
 
 Had Sophia known the direful situation 
 of her Lavinia^ she w^ould indeed have 
 flown to her assistance through all oppo- 
 sition; but the fell Tribimal of Three had 
 secured both her and Emily from interfer- 
 ing with their horrible purpose — their truly 
 diabolical machinations ! ! ! 
 
 A husband — a wife — a son — allied to 
 each other in bands of devilish enterprize ! ! 
 ■ — monstrous association! — infernal com- 
 pact ! . 
 
 Villany — robbery — worse than murder 
 - — employed to secure — what? 
 We must advert to the Woodland Witches. 
 
 H 4 CHAP. 
 
152 THE NUKS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 A Scene in the Wilderness, 
 
 
 JL HAT we may exonerate both Sophia 
 and Emily Selwyn, from neglect of the 
 Misses Rosemontj it will be proper to 
 return to the summons sent to them by 
 their mother, to attend in her dressins: 
 room; where she detained them in earnest 
 conversation, respecting their entering on 
 their noviciate; and treated the subject as a 
 matter of course, speaking in such decisive 
 terms, and assuming such an authoritative 
 air^ that they were awed into silence. 
 
 Sophia^ 
 
THE NUNS'OF THE DESERT. 153 
 
 Sophia, however, at length, assumed 
 sufiicient resolution to expostulate on the 
 unreasonableness of the requisition ; urging 
 the reluctance which both herself and her 
 sister had to a monastic life; — that the 
 family circumstances did not require the 
 the sacrifice of their daughters — that 
 their expectation of fortune was moj 
 derate, as they did not even wish for a 
 greater sum than what, it might be pre- 
 sumed, their father would bestow upon the 
 
 Convent: 
 
 For a considerable time, in order to 
 
 detain them, Mrs. Selwyn artfully listened 
 
 with seeming patience, to the arguments, 
 
 which Emily likev^ise advanced against 
 
 seclusion,, till being unable to answer them 
 
 with reason — that indeed being more than 
 
 is in the power of the v/isest of mankind 
 
 — she re-assumed her authority, and told 
 
 them, she was willing to try the effect of 
 
 of persuasion, before she asserted her own 
 
 and Mr. Sehvyn's right to dispose of their 
 
 children, in the manner their judgment and 
 
 H 5 affection 
 
154 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT^ 
 
 affection should determine ; but since she 
 found they were so rebelliously disposed^ 
 she must inform them^ that their fate was 
 fixed; and tha^ the veil would, inevitably^ 
 be their portion. 
 
 Fanny now came in, and whispered in thgf 
 ear of her Lady ; who replied — " Cannot 
 he wait, do you say?" — ^^ No, Madam/' 
 answered the girl^ " he must quit Ivetsey 
 immediately; his orders are pressing. '* 
 
 ^' It is unlucky/' returned the Lady, 
 **^ conduct him to the library;" — then ad- 
 dressing her daughters — '" Business of 
 importance requires my attendance for a 
 few minutes; wait till I return, and dis- 
 pose yourselves for a dutiful acquiescence." 
 In saying which she abruptly retired to 
 take a mournful leave of her favourite 
 Captain, who was unexpectedly summoned 
 to join his regiment, after having sola^ced 
 himself several weeks in the sunshine of 
 Mrs. Selwyn's favour. 
 
 In half a minute, Fanny returned for 
 her Lady's perfume bottle, when Emily 
 
 asked. 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 155 
 
 askedj '' how long she supposed her mother 
 would be absent ?" 
 
 Fanny^ who was well acquainted with 
 
 the habits of her mistress^ said^ '' Perhaps 
 an hour," and left the room. 
 
 ^^ We need not stay here/* said Emily, 
 " I will leave a note to say that w'e will 
 retire to the little summer house, and there 
 attend my mother's summons." 
 
 '' Do so/' said Sophia. 
 
 She did — and descending from the apart- 
 ment; they directed their steps towards the - 
 garden, there to bewail the views of their 
 parents, and to concert measures to avert '^ 
 their intended destiny. 
 
 '' You may do as you please," said 
 Emily ; '^'^ but I am determined to assert my 
 right to liberty ; and never will submit to 
 be immured within the walls of that old 
 gloomy monastery." 
 
 ''What can we do ?" asked Sophia, 
 "Both our father and mother are inflexi- 
 ble," 
 
 H G. "Dof 
 
156 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT, 
 
 '^'^ Do !'* repeated her sister, '^Travel 
 with a gang of gypsies^ and tell fortunes 
 for bread;, rather than be Nuns ! " 
 
 Walking onward, their ears were assailed 
 by the sound of voices^ one of which 
 seemed to issue from some person in dis- 
 tress; they stopped — listened — and advan- 
 ced towards the point from whence the 
 sound seemed to proceed, v* hen they heard 
 some one speak, as if crying, and w^ere 
 soon convinced it was Selina, who said — 
 *' I will — I do — acknowledge my sense of 
 your affection^ but do not — do not put 
 put me upon so disgraceful a conduct : I 
 vannot leave my sister V 
 
 "Sister! my charming Selina!'' said 
 the fraudful William Selwyn, — '' What is 
 a sister! — what is father — mother — any 
 body — to a Iovct so sincere — so ardent as 
 m^/self ! — do not / sacrifice the favour of 
 both my parents, who, you well know, are 
 determined to marry me to Lady Frances 
 Landgrove, by my choice of you ? And 
 can you refuse me the the slight proof of 
 
 your 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT: 157 
 
 your regardj by flying with me from this 
 Tand of tyranny, to a country where our 
 happiness will be perfect and permanent?"' 
 
 '' Cruel Selina V he continued in a tone 
 of deep despair, ^^ either accede to my 
 proposal, or see me die at your ^eei." On 
 saying which, he produced a pistol, and 
 prefixed the muzzle to his breast: 
 
 The artless Selina was terrified to excess 
 upon the appearance of this instrument of 
 death; and screaming in a voice rendered 
 faint by horror, threw herself at his fee t^ 
 saying, '^^ Oh, Selwyn ! my dear Selwyn I 
 forbear— forbear to distract me ! — I will 
 go — l\n\\ go ait^j Tchere to prolong a life, 
 which is too, too dear to me!'^ 
 
 On this^ the- young villain said, '' Now 
 then, now my Selina, my dearest, fairest i 
 now^ will I go and order the light chaise, as 
 if for an airing, and before we can be 
 missed from the Tower, we shall be out of 
 the reach of our pursuers/' 
 
 '' Oh, but my sister ! my Emily ! Sophia! "* 
 
 exclaimed 
 
I 5S THE NUNS OF THE DESERT.. 
 
 — exclaimed Selina, as the Misses Selwyns 
 appeared before her. 
 
 *'*^ Two of us, my love, are here/* said 
 Emily, as she advanced, " and your Sister 
 is not, Idare pronounce, far distant; and 
 now, my dear Selina, why do you, at this^ 
 crisis, speak of us in a tone so deplorable ?*^ 
 William Selwyn, at this address to Selina. 
 s^tarted back with astonishment and rage. 
 *^^Why did not my Mother detain you I 
 How came you here?" said he, — thrown 
 off his guard by the unexpected inter- 
 ruption, while Selina fainted ia the arms 
 of Sophia. 
 
 '' Why did not my Mother detain us!" — ■ 
 repeated Emily, with a mixture of strange 
 
 sentiments. Could my Mother know *' 
 
 she stopped. 
 
 '' Know! — Know what ?'' — interrogated 
 the brother — ^^She knows that I adore this 
 lovely girl,'' going to Selina, whose situ- 
 ation he now perceived, "and she knows 
 that nothing can separate my affection from . 
 her,'' — clasping his arms round ,her, and 
 3 raising 
 
THE NUNS 0F THE DESERT. 159 
 
 raising her head from the breast of Sophia 
 to his own^ as she, just then opening her 
 eyes, exclaimed in a mom-nful voice, — '''Oh! 
 mv dear friends! where — v/here is mv 
 vSister?" 
 
 '' We have not seen her, my dear Selina^ 
 since we parted in the saloon.; but come 
 with us, and we will seek for her. Where 
 did you leave her ? and what was the occa^ 
 t^ion of your being separated t" 
 
 '' 0\v ! r scarce know myself; but let me 
 ' — let me go into the house, and up to ray 
 own apartment.^* 
 
 " And iv/// you leave me, Selina?" 
 
 pnournfully asked Mr. William Selwyn^ 
 standing with his arms folded in an attitude 
 of dejection— ^^ Will you thus cruelly 
 disappoint the hope of the most ardent — • 
 the most faithful " 
 
 *' Fiddle faddle, with your faithfulness 
 and ardency," — interrupted Emily, who 
 had entertained some slight suspicion of 
 the young Gentleman's design; thowgh she 
 conjectured not its being so extensive. — 
 
 '' What 
 
160 THE NUNS OF THE DESEUT; 
 
 "^ What can you mean. Brother by 
 endeavouring to impose upon the unsus- 
 pecting heart of my little friend?" 
 
 '' Impose ! Emily ! what can i/ou mean 
 By endeavouring to injure me in the opi-^ 
 nion of the only being under Heaven for 
 whom existence is worth " 
 
 EiTiily interrupted his speech by a hearty 
 laugh; and Sophia seriously interposed, by 
 representing the impropriety of his conduct 
 in such striking colours, that, seeing no 
 alternative, he professed deep contrition 
 for the effects of his '' violent arid most 
 fervent passion ;" declared his resolution to- 
 obtain the hand of Selina Rosemont from 
 that of his father, or leave for ever the 
 land of his nativity ; and with a counte* 
 nance which he had made to express all 
 he wished to utter, kissed, with trembling 
 respect, the hand of the weeping girl^ 
 whom the Sisters conducted, as she wished; 
 to her apartment, at the moment that 
 the wretched Lavinia sank at the feet of 
 the Tarquin Selwyn, 
 
 GIIAP. 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 161 
 
 CHAP. XIIL 
 
 An Apology (such as it is) for Superstition^ 
 
 -^Jn Elopement. — Lavinia's return to 
 
 the Convent. — The Separation of 
 
 Lovers,-^ And the Chagrin of 
 
 William Selwyn. 
 
 JlT has been said that the twin brothei-s 
 overpowered by the subtle exhalation of 
 Mr. Selwyn's champaign, had retired to 
 solicit an antidote from the somniferous 
 Monarch, which he readily granted ; but 
 during the operation of the charm thrown 
 around the petitioners, his fantastic minister 
 conjured up such ideal terrors thatHorace,, 
 agitated by the images presented to his 
 
 passive 
 
162 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 passive senses, started from the bed upon 
 which he had thrown himself, in horroTS 
 that scarcely seemed to vanish when his 
 real sense of seeing was returned. 
 
 Kind and courteous Reader ! will you be 
 displeased with the suggestion of the 
 young Gentleman's disturbance having 
 been occasioned by some friendly 8ylph> 
 to whose charge the welfare of the lovely 
 Lavinia had been entrusted?— You say 
 you will — ^that your mind is too superior 
 to admit the delightful idea of man's 
 individual happiness being the immediate 
 care of Heaven.-— That the modern philo- 
 Sophy^ of which you are a professor 
 does not allow the reality of such trum- 
 pery tales. 
 
 As pity is a passion, if it maybe termed^ 
 one, more suitable to our nature — severe 
 as we have been deemed, when our object 
 was the advancement of the j^eneral Good 
 - — than either anger or contempt, v/e vviU 
 lament thy self-deprivation of the sweetest 
 consolation human nature knows, and * 
 
 entreat: 
 
THE NUNS or THE DESEKT. IGS 
 
 entreat thy recognition of the many inci- 
 dents, termed accidents, which, within thy 
 knowledge, have been productive of the 
 most momentous consequences ; — conse- 
 quences which have involved in, or saved 
 from, ruin, numbers of people, and even 
 divers families — then we will ask, whether 
 that ruin would not have been effected or 
 averted, had not those — perhaps very trifling 
 — incidents occurred ? 
 
 To thee, Saria, I apostrophise — to thee 
 appeal — whether, when under concern for 
 the prostitution of that particle of Divine 
 Wisdom given to man To know his Creatojj, 
 it is consistent with my fervent love for my 
 fellows, to write upon the theme soberly* 
 placidly, supinely? No; Humanily — 
 Beneroolence — Charitij — yes, Chariti/ her 
 oxvn self, drops acid into my ink, and bids 
 me hazard to offend, that I mav awaken. 
 
 But to humour our too fashionable read- 
 ers, let us conclude, that it was the unusual 
 quantity of champaign which the Selwyns, 
 Father and Son^ had pressed upon Horatio 
 
 Congreve 
 
164 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 CongrevCj that so disturbed his repose as 
 to render it impossible for him^, at that 
 period^ to sleep again ; and when we have 
 observed^ let us comment upon the effect. 
 '' For Heaven's sake ! stop — stop/' — 
 exclaimed he^ as he darted from the bed, 
 
 '^ destruction awaits " He said no 
 
 more; Reason^ endeavouring to re-assume 
 her throne, stopped the progress of his 
 frenzy; but feeling greatly uncomfortable^ 
 he gently awakened his brother, and asked 
 him to walk with him, for he wanted air. 
 
 Ferdinand, in some degree recovered 
 from the effects of the intoxicating viand, 
 refused not the request of a brother he 
 loved, though he wished for farther repose; 
 they therefore sallied forth, and for some 
 minutes paced upon the lawn at the end of 
 the Towxr, to observe the approach of 
 Mrs. Selwyn's cockaded Cicisbeo ; after 
 which, they proceeded to the Forest, when 
 upon entering a glade that divided into 
 narrow w^alks, their ears were assailed by 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 165 
 
 the distant scream of a female from the 
 wood before them, whereupon they sprang 
 forward^ not exactly knowing from what 
 point the tone of terror proceeded^ into 
 different paths^ and Horatio^ guided by 
 another scream^, which struck not only his 
 ears but his hearty for he then knew the 
 voice^ reached the orangery at the moment 
 whan the exhausted Lavinia sank at the feet 
 of her determined destroyer^ who looked 
 with fell pleasure upon the lifeless state of 
 the lovely victim. 
 
 With more than one hated passion burn- 
 ing in his breast^ he would soon have 
 placed an insurmountable barrier between 
 Lavinia and future happiness, but Horace^ 
 standing for a moment aghast with amaze- 
 ment^ was instantly convinced of his diabo- 
 lical purpose^ and springing forward^ 
 reduced him at one blow to a state still 
 more insensible than that of Lavinia^ whom 
 terror had partly brought back to consci • 
 ousness; and the monster falling across her 
 
 feet 
 
166 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 feeij she opened her eyes^ and again 
 screamed^ not knowing whom she saw. 
 
 '^^ Hush ! m}rLavinia! my love!'' said 
 Mr. CongrevCj as he raised her from the 
 groundj '^ Let us escape before this infernal 
 agents recover from the fortunate stroke I 
 have given him. Let me assist you to flee 
 from this spot to some place of momentary 
 safety^ where we may consult w^hat plan 
 we shall pursue for more full security.'' 
 
 The instant Lavinia heard the w^hisper- 
 ing voice of her loved Horatio^ she 
 endeavoured to spring from the ground; 
 but w^as impeded by the prostrate Selwyn, 
 who, having fallen against a garden chair^ 
 was doubly stunned^ and his nose gushed 
 with blood. Upon any other occasion, the 
 compassion with which the hearts of Horace 
 and Lavinia were fraught, w^ould have 
 rendered the fallen wretch an object of 
 their tenderest care; but now — even though 
 Mr. Congreve apprehended that he had 
 given an effectual quietus — he spared not 
 another fate about his thought, but gently 
 
 removing 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT 167 
 
 removing him from the feet of Miss Rose- 
 mont, he caught her up, and rushed with 
 her throu2[h the Forest, with winored 
 celerity. 
 
 On the lawn which skirted the wood, 
 they perceived Ferdinand, who was turning 
 to the entrance of a distant glade ; but 
 catching a sight of his brother and Lavinia, 
 with a quickened pace he to them directed 
 his steps; when they met, Horace conjured 
 Ferdinand to fly to the stables, and order 
 horses for himself and Miss Rosemont. 
 
 His rec[uisition was instantly complied 
 with, and, in a few minutes, the lovers 
 were on the road to the Convent, where 
 Horatio had advised Lavinia to take instant 
 sanctuarv. 
 
 The fear of pursuit urged our fugitives 
 to proceed with such rapidity, that when 
 they reached the gate of the Convent, the 
 exhausted fair one sank breathless from 
 her horse^ as Mr. Congreve rang for admit- 
 tance^ and he was raising her from the 
 ground^ when Martha Hood, the Portress^ 
 
 who 
 
168 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 who was introduced to the acquaintance of 
 our reader in the second chapter of these 
 Memoirs, appeared at the ponderous gate 
 
 Seeing Miss Rosemont^ for whom she 
 had a peculiar respect, in such an alarming 
 situation^ she flew to assist Mr, Congreve, 
 and they carried her to the Portress's lodge, 
 where she was soon restored to sense, and 
 instantly enquired for the Lady Abbess, 
 upon which Martha informed her that the 
 good gentlewoman had been greatly indis- 
 posed, and was, at that period, in a sleep, 
 which, it was hoped, would produce salutary 
 effects. She now anxiously asked the cause 
 of the distress in which Lavinia appeared 
 to be involved, and, at length, as Martha 
 Hood was universally beloved and respected 
 by all the Sisterhood, as well as by the 
 Abbess, she was made acquainted with all 
 the particulars relative to the conduct of 
 Mr. Selwyn. 
 
 The honest indignation which was ex- 
 pressed by the speech and countenance 
 of the worthy Portress, prepossessed Mr. 
 
 Congreve 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 169 
 
 Congreve in her favour; he wished to 
 acknowledge her warmth in his Lavinia's 
 interest by some pecuniary token^ which 
 she refused with a steadiness that would 
 have honoured her superior in station. 
 
 Leaving the lovers for a few moments, 
 which were spent in fervent professions 
 on one side^ and delicate acknowledgements 
 ( for the crisis did not admit of affected 
 reserve) of a tender attachment on the 
 other^ she returned with a beverage^ from 
 which the harrassed pair received much 
 refreshment ; and^ after a considerable 
 period;, which the kind Martha allowed 
 them to spend in conversation^ Horatio 
 took a tender^ and alas! a long — shall we 
 say a last ! — farewell of his Lavinia Rose- 
 mont, whom he left in unconquerable 
 distress. 
 
 By every means she could devise^ Martha 
 Hood endeavoured to comfort the mourn- 
 ing fair; but in vain were all her efforts; 
 her grief seemed beyond alleviation-— 
 beyond, she confessed^ beyond the apparent 
 
 VOL. I. I cause*' 
 
170 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 cause; but she could not surmount the 
 poignancy of her affliction. Her friend 
 Sophia, her Sister, and above either, if not 
 more than both together, (will Lavinia 
 stand excused by our prudent readers?) 
 her Horatio — She lamented as absentees, 
 Emily Selvvyn likewise, and Ferdinand Con- 
 greve, for both of whom she entertained 
 a friendship most sincere, were subjects of 
 regret in separation. To the ladies, indeed, 
 as the given month of absence was just 
 expired, she hoped to be soon re-united; 
 but the Congreves — particularly Horace — 
 she doubted ever seeing again. 
 
 The doubt was as the chilling stroke of 
 death. What a little Age of happiness had 
 she lived at Ivy Tower ! delightful period ! 
 uninterrupted till the avowal of Selwyn's 
 villany, which, never before the moment 
 of its disclosure, had she the slightest obvi- 
 ous cause to suspect. 
 
 A seven years* acquaintance could not 
 have increased her confidence in Mr. 
 Congreve^ with whom she seemed to have 
 
 been 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 171 
 
 been intimate from her first days of exist- 
 ence; and enchanting were those hours 
 which were passed in the lovely glades 
 round Ivy Tower, where peace^ and puritv, 
 and genuine affection, reigned, unrivalled 
 and uncontrolled; where friendship was 
 experienced by hearts formed for the prin- 
 ciple; whereevery generous sentimentarose 
 spontaneously in the untainted mind ; 
 where Piety glowed with peculiar fervour 
 in the breast of innocence, from a survey 
 of the blessings bestowed on man by 
 Nature's GOD. 
 
 Leaving the fair mourner to time and 
 Martha Hood — we will return to Ivy Tower, 
 and peep into the different apartments of 
 that magnificent mansion. 
 
 In an elegant dressing-room, annexed 
 to a suit of apartments, appropriated to 
 the use of the Lady of the Tower, all fur- 
 nished fit for the reception of a bridal 
 queen, there, in a bow window, sat, reclin- 
 ing, Mrs. Selwyn, and her cher ami, 
 bewailing the sad necessity for their 
 I 2 separation 
 
172 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. • 
 
 separation^ in terms the most romantically 
 tender. The family compact was forgotten 
 by the lady; all her sentiments were ab- 
 solved in her own peculiar sorrow; and the 
 gentleman was buried in the melancholy idea 
 of being precluded a farther access to the 
 well-furnished card-purse of Ms dear Bea- 
 trice; for so it was that lady's pleasure to 
 be denominated by the adorers of her 
 munificence^ which was always unbound- 
 edly exercised towards her favourites of the 
 Captain's description. 
 
 In another part of the house^ walking 
 in angry movements across a room^ was 
 William Selwyn; his face pale with rage; 
 his heart boiling with revenge. 
 
 Sometimes he bit his lips ; sometimes 
 his nails; then struck his hand across his 
 forehead; stamped his foot upon the floor 
 with violence; soliloquised a string of 
 barbarous oaths, which cursed his sisters ; 
 and acted- — or rather practised, for it was 
 no force upon his nature — demoniac rage, 
 
 till 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 173 
 
 till the happy thought of his father's suc- 
 cess with Lavinia, distorted his features 
 with a malicious and triumphal grin. 
 
 He glutted his revenge in the idea of 
 her destruction ; dressed his face in smiles, 
 and sallied forth to meet tlvQ faniil}^, with 
 an air of perfect unconcern. 
 
 In the apartment of the ladies were the 
 sisters with the weeping Seiina^ who poured 
 her tears into the bosom of her friend 
 Emily^ as she and Sophia soothed her with 
 the kindest language; and at length the 
 bashful girl confessed her affection for 
 William Selwyn^, and th.Q persuasions he 
 used to induce her to leave her friends at 
 Ivy Tower; dreading/ not the severity^ but 
 the distress of her Sister, on being made 
 acquainted (which nevertheless she urged 
 that she might be) with her indiscretion in 
 listening one moment to such a proposal. 
 
 Irritated by the villany of their brother^ 
 both Sophia and Emily broke into invec- 
 tives upon his nefarious conduct; inveighing 
 in the severest terms against his falshood, 
 I 3 duplicity^ 
 
•J 74 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 duplicity, treachery, and villanoiis design; 
 for they spared not to present, to the trem- 
 bling Selina, the conduct of their brother 
 in the blackest colours; assuring her, that 
 the tale of his father's intention of marry- 
 ing him to Lady Frances Landgrove, was 
 an entire fabrication to facilitate her ruin. 
 
 The terrified girl again threw herself 
 into the arms of Emily, and hid her face 
 in her bosom, exclaiming, " Take me, take 
 me away! — carry me to the Convent; hide 
 m.e for ever, and never again let me see 
 the face of William Selwyn, whom I now," 
 continued she, starting up in momentary 
 heroism, " abhor^ as much as I before — '* 
 
 She stopped; then resuming, "^And did 
 I love such a deceiver." 
 
 " I did; I will agcdn confess it, and trust 
 it will be considered as a proof of my sin- 
 cerity, and that I shall be believed when 
 I avow, that I now^ detest and can never 
 love him more/' 
 
 Her friends were pleased with her energy, 
 and commended her resolution, in which 
 
 they 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 175 
 
 they used every means to encourage her 
 to persevere. 
 
 Selina^ gratified and consoled by their 
 praises, requested they would accompany 
 her in pursuit of Lavinia^ who, she said^ 
 had walked into the garden, and was pro- 
 bably gone toher favourite arcade. Accord- 
 ingly they descended from the chamber^ 
 and directed their steps to the Forest, 
 
 I * CHAP. 
 
176 THE NUNS OF THE DESEKT. 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Co7ijecturcs of the Quartette. — Supper, — The 
 
 Death of Mr. ISelzci/??. announced, — 
 
 The Language cf Hearts.^^And 
 
 a Re-appearance, 
 
 x\S the fair Sisters^ 'vvith their young 
 friend^ were walking over the lawn, they 
 saw Ferdinand Congreve turn into the 
 grove,, and following him, found he had 
 thrown himself under a wide spreading 
 oak, where he lay apparently lost in uneasy 
 contemplation. 
 
 " For goodness sake, Mr. Congreve V 
 said Sophia, with trembling anxiety, after 
 
 having 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 177 
 
 having stood silent a moment to observe 
 him, '' What is the matter ? What is the 
 cause of the disquiet with which you seem 
 thus asfitated ?" 
 
 Ferdinand started at the sound of her 
 voice, and instantly arising, approached 
 her with an endeavour, but an ineffective 
 one, at composure. 
 
 "Be not alarmed, my lovely girl,'* said 
 he, taking her hand ; '' my apprehension 
 is, perhaps, greater than occasion demands. 
 In a short time I hope to see Horace, and 
 that he will then give a happy solution to 
 an enigma w^ith which I own I am, at pre- 
 sent, not a little puzzled/' 
 
 This short preface alarmed, more than 
 it allayed, the fears of the ladies; and they 
 all, in the same instant, required the cause 
 of his discom.posure. 
 
 He then told them that liis brother was 
 rode out with Lavinia; that all the infor- 
 mation he had given him, of the apparent 
 distress of Miss Rosem.ont and his own, was 
 
 I 5 in 
 
178 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 in these words. " For the love of Hea- 
 ven ! Ferdinand^ procure a horse for 
 Lavinia^ and another for myself, without 
 one moment's delay; let them be led to the 
 gate behind the grotto. More than life 
 depends upon the utmost despatch." 
 
 " Seeing my brother's agitation/' con- 
 tinued Ferdinand, '^'^ I stopped not to ask a 
 a single que tion. When he mounted his 
 horse, which, with that for Miss Rosemont^ 
 I myself (not chusing a servant should 
 witness the wildness of his manner) con- 
 ducted to the spot ,he sciid — "In a few hours 
 I hope again to see you; you shall then 
 be told every particular respecting the 
 present apparently wild transaction. In 
 my absence, it will, perhaps, be best you 
 should be entirely ignorant of all that 
 relates to the circumstance." On saying 
 which, they winged their way over the 
 lower lawn, and in three minutes the grove 
 of limes concealed them from my view." 
 
 *^ Where can they be gone ?" 
 
 '' What 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 170' 
 
 "^ What can be the matter ! '" 
 
 '' What can have happened! '' — ex- 
 claimed Selina and the Sisters in one 
 instant; and in almost breathless alarm. — 
 Not even a coiyecture relieved^ by amusing 
 their impatience. 
 
 Upwards of two hours — sometimes sit- 
 ting, sometimes walking — did they spend 
 ill conversation that amounted to little 
 more than expressions ofalarm, amazement,, 
 and anxiety. Even the circumstance re- 
 specting Selina was almost forgotten; Selina^ 
 herself lost half the sense of her own dis- 
 tress^ in that which she now experienced on^ 
 account of her sister; whom to seek, and 
 in whom to confide, w^as her errand into 
 tlie Forest; but now this adviser^ this 
 comforter^ this dearest of friends, had left 
 her and was flown, no one knew whi- 
 ther. Could it be upon a matrimonial- 
 expedition ! 
 
 No one could believe^ or suggest^ the 
 circumstance. 
 
 Lavinia vvould certainly have entrusted^ 
 i-G^ suchi 
 
180 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 such an affair with Sophia^ — if not with 
 her Sister and Emily. 
 
 Horatio would have confided in Ferdi- 
 nand ; it was so unexpected ! it was evi- 
 dently so suddenli} a formed design ! 
 
 The explanatory questions recurred — 
 What coulcV have happened ! ! What could 
 he the matter !!1 
 
 The supper-bellj which was^ in those days^ 
 as constantly sounded as that for dinner^ 
 now summoned them to the Tower, where 
 they found Mrs. Selwyn and her Son await- 
 ing the arrival of the rest of the family. 
 
 Selina was unwilling to make her appear- 
 ance in the eating-room; but in that crisis- 
 of affairs, it was judged injudicious for 
 her to be absent, lest it should give rise to 
 an idea of her being privy to the flighty, 
 should it be discovered, of her Sister and 
 Air. Con.o-reve. 
 
 From this consideration, with trembling 
 stepSj she followed her friends into the 
 saloon, w^here, the weather being extremely 
 warm^ the evening meal was served. 
 
 William 
 
THE NUNS OF T[IE DESERT. LSI 
 
 William Sehvyn^ ever present to himself^ 
 had been talking with his mother on some 
 of the events of the day^, and so totally 
 had he recovered his disappointm.ent^ that 
 he approached the ladies with the most 
 perfect nonchalance; remarked upon the 
 beauty of the evening; and enquired for 
 Miss Rosemont. 
 
 Sophia gave him a contemptuous look^ 
 and said they had not seen Lavinia since 
 tliey last saw lihn; la3/ing an emphasis on 
 the latter part of her reply, with a hope 
 of abating an air of assurance^ with which 
 she was greatly offended. But he parried 
 the shaft with undaunted effrontery — 
 seemed totally unconscious of her silent 
 reproach — supposed Miss Rosemont was 
 wandering in imaginary Arcadia- — and 
 suggested a repetition of the summons to 
 supper, by means of a second ringing of 
 the bell. 
 
 The bell w^as accordingly again set in 
 
 motion ; but neither Miss Rosemont, Horace 
 
 Congreve, nor the Squire of the To^ver, 
 
 5 answered 
 
I8'3 THE MUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 answered to the sound of invitation; it 
 was strange ! it was veri/ strange ! it was 
 amazing ! 
 
 And they all were really surprised : Mrs, 
 Seiwyn and her Son at the absence of 
 Horatio; the young Ladies and Mr. Con- 
 greve at that of Mr, Seiwyn. 
 
 Mr. Congreve — we repeat; and as we 
 should be greatly distressed to render our- 
 selves liable to the imputation of a breach 
 of the laws of etiquette^ we think it 
 requisite to. explain the reason why we so^ 
 at timcs^ denominate both the brothers^ 
 when '• ^4mj hocly, who knows /z/z^ thing, 
 would know that only one should be Mr. 
 
 Congreve ; the other should be Mr. 
 
 by his christened name !" 
 
 With all due deference v/€ must abide 
 by the determination of the two gentlemen;, 
 neither of whom would accept^ exclusively^ 
 the distinction of Mr. Congreve, which 
 was therefore indiscriminately applied to 
 either, if only one v/as present; when 
 they were together^ tlie. first name of both 
 
 was 
 
The Nt7NS OF THE DESERT. 183 
 
 was added to that of their common one; 
 
 so determinedly did they preserve the most 
 
 exact equality in every prirticular. 
 
 '' Where can Mr. Selwyn be '''" asked 
 
 Mr. Congreve oi William^ '' Did he ride^, 
 
 or only walk out }" 
 
 '' Walkj I believe/' replied X'd.q ^o\m^ 
 
 gentleman, " Where is your brother V 
 
 " I have not seen him this hour/' an- 
 swered Ferdinand ; '' nor do I know where 
 he is." No one asked for Miss Rosemont^ 
 which every one thought was a strange 
 circumstance; to our readers^ the cause 
 is obvious. The Mother and Son con- 
 cluded she was engaged with Mr. Selwyn; 
 the other partly knew, or supposed, that 
 she was far away, though where they could 
 not conjecture; therefore about 7? er, they 
 none of them ventured any enquiry. 
 
 " Let us/' said Mrs. Selwyn^ '' sit down 
 to supper;" — they did; but before they 
 had began to eat, an indiscreet servant 
 rushed into the room, with — ''Good Lord! 
 Good Lord I my master is dead^ or dying 1" 
 
 Down 
 
184 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 Down went every knife and fork that 
 had been raised with the design of par- 
 taking of the delicacies with which the board 
 was covered; and, in an instant^, every 
 heart silently spoke voliunes. 
 
 " I shall now be master of Ivv Tower/' 
 said that of Mr. William; "and I Vvill surpass 
 my father in magnificence." In an instant 
 rose to his view the funeral procession — 
 the obsequiousness of servants — the ho- 
 niag-e of tenants — the dismission ©f the 
 Conp-reves — and a lon«- train of et cetera. 
 '' I will not be luarrkd to Captain 
 Waters/' said the heart ql Mrs. Selwyn; 
 but he shall soon be a Colonel. Horrid ! 
 I shall never lock well in weeds ! " 
 
 The lanrnia'Te of Sclina's heart was unin- 
 telligible^ even to herself. 
 
 '^ Oh, my poor father!'* exclaimed that 
 of Sophia; to which was added in a small 
 voice, " Where, I wonder, will now be the 
 residence of Ferdinand and Horace Con- 
 
 greve l" 
 
 Said 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 185 
 
 Said Emily's — " Who now will have 
 power to make us take the veil?" Then 
 followed a sincere sigh for the fate of her 
 father. 
 
 The hearty which quickened its motion 
 in the breast of Mr. Congreve^ exclaimed^ 
 "Sophia will now be her own mistress! — 
 Poor Mr. Selwyn ! — Where can my Brother 
 be at this moment \" 
 
 The kind of language^ of which we have 
 given the above specimen^ from the volumes 
 that were instantly impressed^ is so foreign 
 to that w^hichj on these occasions^ is often 
 uttered in our vulgar tongue^ that some 
 few of our readers^ unlearned in the real 
 meaning of common-place discourse^ may 
 perhaps be desirous of a translation; but 
 the undertaking would unduly lengthen 
 the interval between the intelligence of 
 
 Mr. Selwyn's deaths and- his appearance 
 
 in the supper room. 
 
 The Milliners^ the Mantuamakers^ the 
 Colonel's commission^ which fioated in 
 the fancy of Mrs. Selwyn — — 
 
 The 
 
186 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 The compliments of condolence^ (an 
 internal smile had arisen at the suggestion 
 that the first syllable of that word was the 
 same as that of congratulation;) which 
 sounded in the mental ears of Mr. William;, 
 vanished^ and ceased in a moment; while> 
 in the eyes of Emily and Ferdinand, the 
 walls of a Convent were as instantly re- 
 erected. 
 
 The universal language now was — '^'Gra- 
 cious Heaven ! Where ! When 1 How !!'* 
 
 Seiwyn^ pale and faint^ staggered to a 
 chair_, and threw himself upon the seat, 
 while every one crow^ded near him^ to 
 look^ not daring to ask, for particulars. 
 
 '' Put me instantly to bed/ and send for 
 Whittington/' — was all they could obtain 
 from the wounded man. 
 
 His orders were observed; and Doctor 
 Whittington obeyed the summons ; a 
 Surgeon was then sent for, who, though 
 he had bled plentifully from his nose, was 
 ordered by the Doctor to perform the 
 operation of Phlebotomy on the patient's 
 
 right 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 187 
 
 right arm ; after which proper medicines 
 were administered and the gentleman was 
 left, not as the Doctor wished, to repose, 
 but to sensations the most keen and cor- 
 roding. 
 
 A description of the cogitations of this 
 very abandoned man, would be as unplea- 
 sant as unnecessary; it being easy to 
 suggest that the violent and villanous pas- 
 sions of his mind were all in arms against 
 his peace. Fell revenge had the ascendancy ; 
 and had a demon appeared and offered to 
 aid his wishes, he would have accepted his 
 assistance. 
 
 The stroke which had levelled him with 
 the ground was so sudden, that he knew 
 not the hand that gave it, and when, after 
 a long period of stupefaction, he opened 
 his- eyes, he could not ascertain his situa- 
 tion ; but recollection flowing fast upon 
 him, he looked round for Lavinia. 
 
 Lavinia was not to be seen : the pain in 
 his head ; the sm.art of his face, which had 
 been cut by a small sharp stone ; the 
 
 blood 
 
1S8 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT 
 
 blood upon his shirt and waistcoat^, that 
 had flowed from his nose; all convinced 
 him of his having received an assult. 
 
 Was it possible that Lavinia could so have 
 conquered him ? it was not ; he recollected 
 her having sank upon the turf at his feet; 
 who then 
 
 The Messieurs Congreves darted across 
 his idea ; but which to rest upon^ he knew 
 not. 
 
 The peculiar partiality of the youiig 
 people had never met public observation : 
 their affection was too genuine to obtrude 
 upon the perception of a gross observer; 
 it was not officious^ either to display or 
 conceal its glow^ therefore, neither the 
 Father^ Mother, nor Son^ coukl read its 
 characters^ which were written in tJc^e idiom 
 of Anirels. Their hearts conversed* bv 
 intuition, and needed not the medium of 
 language to convey their sentiments. 
 
 When Mr. Selwyn was capable of re- 
 moving from a spot so nearly, fatnb he 
 retired to a Venetian Temple, not far 
 
 distant. 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 189 
 
 distant, to consider in v/hat manner he 
 should proceed, in order to discover the 
 assailant — the ruffian he termed him — who 
 had crticllij frustrated a plan which was to 
 have established his Glorij. 
 
 The savasfe monster stirred not from 
 his dark workings, till the voice of alarm 
 sounded in his ears; several servants w^ere 
 running in pursuit of him, and one of 
 them was calling to another, in a tone of 
 affright, near the spot of his retirement, 
 to ask if he had been in the arcade to look 
 for his master. 
 
 Awakened to a sense of the peculiarity 
 of his situation, he instantly presented 
 himself to the servant's inquiry; and say- 
 ing he had been much hurt, without any 
 farther explanation, suffered himself to 
 be led to the Tower between two footmen^ 
 who informed him that Miss Rosemont 
 and Mr. Horace Congreve were likewise 
 missing. 
 
 This w^as sufficient ; Mr. Horace Con- 
 greve and Miss Rosemont were, by Mr. 
 
 Selwyn 
 
100 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 Selwyn, immediately deemed criminals; 
 and he was determined to proceed against 
 them with all the rigour of the law. 
 
 We will now leave Mr. Selwyn to the 
 exercise of his contriving faculties, and 
 attend the steps of Horace Congreye; 
 premising, that the party in the saloon 
 separated soon after supper, and retired 
 to their respective apartments. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 191 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 A Midnight Visit. — Communication . — The 
 
 Forest. — The Witch. — The Absent Lovers 
 
 accused of Murder. — Ferdinand 
 
 denies the Charge." And the Dis^ 
 
 mission of Selina Rosemont* 
 
 *' Hist ! Hist ! Ferdinand !^' 
 
 '' Who is there ?" 
 
 " Ask no questions, but come to the 
 window.'' 
 
 Ferdinand jumped out of the bed^ into 
 
 which he had just thrown himself^ the 
 
 moment he recollected the voice of his 
 
 brother ; the first sound of which he had 
 
 fancied proceeded from the gallery, and 
 
 that 
 
192 THK NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 that it was a summons to the chamber of 
 Mr. Selwyn. 
 
 Approaching the window he perceived 
 Horace standing upon a ladder^ and^ gently 
 lifting up the sash^, assisted him in getting 
 into the room. 
 
 An interesting conversation now took 
 place. Ferdinand was soon informed of 
 all with which the reader has already been 
 made acquainted; his indignation w^as 
 extreme^ and he hastily demanded^ what 
 course was to be pursued. 
 
 "My plan is already determined upon/' 
 said Horace; " but you must have patience.'' 
 
 '' I cannot/' replied Ferdinand^ '' it is 
 a circum.stance beyond my endurance;" 
 and wrapt in a silk gown^, he paced back- 
 ward and forward in such wrath^ that 
 Horace^ apprehensive of being heard^ was 
 obliged to exert all his influence to reduce 
 him to tolerable composure. 
 
 At length he seated himself by the side 
 of his BrotLer^ and promised not to inter- 
 rupt him; upon which Horace proceeded 
 
 to 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 195 
 
 to inform him, that having left Miss Rose- 
 mont safe in the Convent, he speeded 
 through the Forest, and met not with any 
 interruption till he arrived at the Warren ; 
 when hearing a noise like the rustling of 
 leaves, he turned to see from whence it 
 proceeded, but there was not any thing to 
 be seen except trees. He then rode 
 slowly forward, and presently a little bird 
 perched upon a bough over his head, when 
 instantly he was saluted with the following 
 couplet: 
 
 Would you save your love from harm. 
 Trust to friendly Marg'ret's charm. 
 
 Astonished at the circumstance, he lifted 
 up his head to obsen^e more attentively the 
 little chorister, but as he stopped his horse, 
 it darted into the wood, and was seen no 
 more. Moving again slowly forward, a 
 
 human voice assailed his ears, with 
 
 ^^ Stop, or lose Lavinia.'' 
 
 Determined to explore the cause of 
 VOL. I. K these 
 
194 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 these wonders^ he stood perfectly still, 
 and listened in silence^ but heard no more. 
 While he was considering in what manner 
 to proceed, he thought he saw something 
 glide before his eyes ; but it was merely 
 imaginary. In two minutes the rustling 
 returned, and immediately the Woodland 
 Witch, known in these pages by the name 
 of Margaret, stood before him. 
 
 Relieved by the appearance of a human 
 figure, he instantly accosted her with — 
 '^ Good Margaret, for that is, I think, your 
 name, I am glad to see you here.'' 
 
 '^ Margaret is my name," replied our 
 friendly Witch; and I am here to offer you 
 my best services. Dare you to serve, to 
 save, Lavinia, trust yourself in the Wood- 
 land Cottage }'* 
 
 " Tell me of a spot on earth," answered 
 Mr. Congreve, '^on which I would not 
 venture, to effect that glorious purpose ! 
 Lead on, good Mother, and I will follow 
 you." Upon which he jumped fram his 
 horse, and throwing the bridle over his 
 
 arm. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DB-ERT. 195 
 
 arm, walked by her side; the horse on 
 which Miss Rosemont had rode^ following 
 the other. 
 
 " Are you not afraid of spells — of charms 
 — of witchcraft ?" — asked Margaret, smi- 
 lingly, as they proceeded throngh the 
 Forest. 
 
 '"^ I am alreachj charmed;" he answered, 
 ^^ charmed by Miss Rosemont —for by some 
 unaccountable circumstance, you are, I 
 find, acquainted with that truth, and by 
 you -- 
 
 ""I am, indeed, acquainted with the 
 truth;" she replied ; with the atrocity of 
 Mr. Selwyn ; with his motives and designs; 
 and you shall soon know as much as I do. 
 Lavinia has, for this time, escaped destruct- 
 ion; had she fallen, I never should have 
 forgiven myself for permitting her going 
 to Ivy Tower. Be it our care to preserve 
 her from future danger." 
 
 '' You amaze me, beyond expression !" 
 said the wondering Congreve ; '' Who are 
 you ? by what name am I to address vou ? 
 
 K 2 how 
 
196 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 how came you interested in, or entrusted 
 withj the fate of my Lavinia ?'* 
 
 '^ As to the — isoho I am — I am a Witch, 
 you know. — Margaret is the name I answer 
 to ; I am interested in the fate of Miss 
 Rosemontj because I am a friend to Virtue; 
 
 because I but no; this is not a moment 
 
 for explanation/' 
 
 They now proceeded in silence, till 
 they reached the wicket, at which Margaret 
 rang a bell, and a decent looking man, 
 apparently near forty, opened the door 
 of the Cottage, and, upon a sign from 
 Margaret, ascended the hill ; took from 
 Mr. Congreve the care of the horses, and 
 led them towards a small building on 
 one side of the house; while Margaret 
 and her visitor walked forward, still in 
 silence. 
 
 When they reached the Cottage, Rachael 
 received them with an air of pleasantry ; 
 and Mr. Congreve was conducted into 
 the painted room, where he heard a tale 
 from the sisters that " harrowed up his 
 
 soul 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 197 
 
 soul ;" and when he repeated the particu- 
 lars, Ferdinand's promised composure was 
 no more; he started from his seat, and 
 vowed vengeance against the objects of 
 his ire, in lanjxuasre most tremendous. 
 
 To spare our readers the trouble of 
 attending to the impotent exclamations 
 of the brothers, on the recapitulation of 
 the foregoing circumstances, we gave the 
 words of Horace Congreve in the second 
 person ; and now inform them, that Ferdi- 
 nand, having emptied his purse into 
 that of his brother, and assisted him to 
 regain the ladder, shut the window and 
 threw himself upon the hed, to revolve, 
 in the height of astonishment, the wonders 
 which Horace had communicated. 
 
 After a sleepless night, Mr. Sehvyn 
 arose at an earlv hour, and entered into 
 a consultation with his Lady and Son, on 
 the circumstances of the preceding even- 
 ing ; and their sentiments vibrating in 
 perfect unison with each other, though in 
 horrible discord with every tone of every 
 K 3 virtue. 
 
198 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 virtue, their measures were soon agreed 
 upon; and their plan finally arranged, 
 before the appearance of the rest of the 
 family. 
 
 Ferdinand Congreve wished most ar- 
 dently for a conference with Miss Selwyn, 
 but apprehensive of rendering her liable 
 to suspiciofii he determined to forbear 
 singling her from company, till a proper 
 opportunity should offer for that purpose. 
 
 Sophia, Emily, and Selina, past a most 
 anxious night; Sleep, till near morn- 
 ing, refused its aid; and when Nature, 
 tired with anxiety and conjecture, sank for 
 a short hour into repose, no salutary effects 
 were experienced; nor did they even then 
 forget their sorrow, their di*eams being 
 not only perturbed, but terrific. 
 
 An earlier summons than usual to break- 
 fast, prevented, as was the design of the 
 trio, any consultation between the other 
 party; who, not deeming it prudent to 
 render themselves suspected, instantly de- 
 scended into the room appropriated to the 
 
 reception 
 
THE NlTNS OF THE DESERT. 19& 
 
 reception of the first meal^ which fronted 
 the rising sun, and opened upon a most 
 lovely piece of pleasure ground. 
 
 When the party were assembled, every 
 one, Ferdinand excepted, sedulously en- 
 quired of Mr. Selwyn, how he had rested; 
 and expressed a hope that he was consider- 
 ably amended. Ferdinand seemed to look 
 the question, but he too much abhorred 
 the man, to express any anxiety about his 
 w^elfare. 
 
 *^' I am better," returned Selwyn, '^ or 
 I should not now have been an inhabitant 
 of this world; an atrocious attempt has 
 been made upon my life, but a just and 
 good Providence, that will not suffer inno- 
 cence to be a prey to-— '* 
 
 Conscience stopped the meditatedspeecb. 
 He sat a few moments in silence, while 
 every eye was fixed upon him, expecting 
 him to proceed in explanation. At length 
 he said — 
 
 " I am concerned to implicate per- 
 sons, of whom all in tliis company had 
 K 4 formed 
 
200 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 formed the most favourable opinion; but 
 Miss Rosemont and Horace Congreve " 
 
 He paused. 
 
 ^^What of them. Sir?" Good Lord! 
 what of them I" or similar interrogation 
 was heard from every side of the table. 
 
 '' What exquisite torture it gives me/' 
 continued the abandoned man, '' to be 
 obliged to assert, that their aim was — how 
 can I speak it, when the Sister of the one, 
 and the Brother of the other, are present ! ! 
 vet it must be known; They aimed to take 
 -AWAY MY Life ! ! ! 
 
 For a moment no word was spoken. 
 Selina fell from her chair. Sophia sat 
 as if destitute of sense and motion. 
 
 Emily ran round the room, wringing her 
 hands, as if she wanted to escape through 
 the walls. William lifted his eyes to the 
 ceiling, as if in mental prayer. 
 
 Mrs. Selwyn leaned her face upon both 
 
 her hands, and her sighs seemed convulsive. 
 
 Ferdinand Conoreve, whose soul had 
 
 been labouring under the most violent 
 
 commotion. 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 201 
 
 commotion, now started from his seat, and 
 said, — ''By Heaven, it is false !'* 
 
 *' False /" — in the same instant, repeated 
 Mr. Mrs. and William Selwyn — the lady 
 now shewing her face, which wore na 
 marks of grief; — '' False ! ! what mean 
 you. Sir ! how dare you thus " 
 
 "My meaning I repeat; It is most 
 False !" again said Ferdinand, and left 
 the room. 
 
 Selina, who lay almost under the table 
 unheeded, now gained attention from 
 Emily, who raised and seated her; Sophia 
 in some measure recovered from her stupor, 
 •though she still spake not, placing herself 
 by her side, and receiving her head upon 
 her bosom. 
 
 Silence for a moment again ensued; no 
 one knew what to say : at length Mr, 
 Seiwyn rang the bell, and when a servant 
 appeared, ordered the chariot with four 
 horses, and the coach with six, to be in 
 -readiness for travelling, with all possible 
 dispatch ; then approaching Selina, who 
 
 K 5 sat 
 
SOS THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 sat weeping between Sophia and Emily, he 
 saii '' I presume. Madam, you will not 
 have any objection to return immediately 
 to your Convent, as your presence in my 
 house is no longer eligible/' 
 
 *' When you please. Sir ; when you 
 please," says the trembling girl, " only 
 let me see my Sister ;" scarcely knowing 
 what she said. 
 
 ^'Your Sister, Madam, is an infamous 
 wanton. Because I refused my consent — 
 but I spare you, yoii are not amenable for 
 her crimes. Prepare for your journey; the 
 chariot will soon be ready to convey you 
 to the asylum which I have reason to 
 lament your having quitted for the purpose 
 of visiting Ivy Tower,'' said Selwyn, with 
 great haughtiness of manner. 
 
 *^ And will not Sophia and Emily go with 
 me ?" asked Selina^ almost drowned in 
 tears. 
 
 " No, Madam," replied the barbarian, 
 unmoved by the innocence of her manner 
 and distress. 
 
 *' And 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 203 
 
 '^'^ And must I go, without knowing w^hat 
 is become of my dear Lavinia ?" 
 
 '' You must go this instant/' — a servant 
 then appearing to say the chariot was in. 
 waiting. 
 
 Throwing her arms round Emily, poor 
 Selina wept with passion. Sophia clasped 
 them both to her heart, and was beginning 
 a petition to her father, when he sternly 
 stopped her short, with declaring, he' 
 would not submit to have his commands^ 
 disputed. 
 
 Suffice it, that Mrs. Selwyn and William 
 aided the senior in his resolves; that the 
 friends were se arated frcm each other 
 without permission to speak in private ; 
 that the housekeeper w^as ordered to put 
 the clothes-trunk of Miss Selina Rosemont 
 into the seat of the carriage ; to attend 
 that young lady to the Convent in the 
 Desert, and to leave her at the gate, with- 
 out giving an answer to any inquiry that 
 might be made about Lavinia, or the Misses 
 Selwyns ; or indeed to make any I'eply to 
 K 6 any 
 
204 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 any one person on any subject. These 
 orders were punctually obeyed ; Mrs, 
 Grimes delivered Selina Rosemont to the 
 care of Martha Hood^ and was driven back 
 to Ivy Tower. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Thi" joyful Meeting of the Sisters. — The Letter, 
 ^"Laviiiia deranged. — Father Overdon 
 commences Physiciatu-^A had In- 
 tention productive of a good 
 Effect. — AndtheAnathtma 
 . of a Priest or a Parent, 
 discussed^ 
 
 'UR readers will pourtray the supreme 
 happiness which Selina experienced upon 
 the appearance of Lavinia in the Convent. 
 
 For a moment^ she doubted whether she 
 
 was 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 205 
 
 was in possession of her perfect senses ; 
 for Martha Hood^ supposing she was already 
 apprized of the circumstance^ had not in- 
 formed her of it upon seeing her, but 
 conducted her to the room in which her 
 Sister was sitting. 
 
 Lavinia sprang to the arms of Selina, 
 the moment she appeared; and mutual 
 communication soon gave mutual relief; 
 not however unaccompanied by mutual 
 sorrow. 
 
 That an absolute plan had been laid for 
 their destruction, was evident to both ; 
 for Selina spared not the most minute cir- 
 cumstance relative to the villany of Wil- 
 liam Selwyn, vvhom now her guileless 
 heart detested as atrocious. 
 
 The keenest distress of Lavinia was 
 occasioned by the fear of what Sophia 
 might think of her disappearance. The 
 supposition that it was possible for the 
 opinion of that beloved friend to be biassed 
 in her judgement by her father and brother, 
 was torture more exquisite than any one 
 5 but 
 
206 THE Nirvs OF THE DTISERT. 
 
 but A Frie>d cnn feel; but which a heart 
 fitted for the reception of that Divine 
 principle^ will easily suggest she would 
 experience. To compleat her distress^ 
 sh€j in a few days^ received the following 
 lettei^ — 
 
 ^'^ To JMiss Rosemont. 
 
 '' Long, long have I flattered 
 myself that my heart beat in unison witJb 
 ycur own ; and dear to my soul was that 
 belief, as I did not then know that decep- 
 tion inhabited your breast^ and that the 
 seeds of every guilt lay dormant in your 
 bosom. The visionary bliss I have expe- 
 rienced, in years spent with one who was 
 dearer to me than any other human crea- 
 ture, has vanished and left me wretched. 
 Poor, lost, depraved, abandoned girl ! 
 farewxll ! Emily likewise bids farewell to 
 Selina, with whose arts to draw in my 
 
 Brother 
 
Tttfi NUNS OF THE DESERT 207 
 
 Brother to marry her^ we are all now 
 acquainted. 
 
 ^' Horace Congreve is returned to a 
 sense of his dutj to my dear Father; and 
 the enchantment by which you held him 
 is dissolved. He knows you as perfectly 
 as we do^ and is ashamed of his past weak- 
 ness. I repeat — poor^ lost, depraved, 
 abandoned, girl ! farewell ! farewell for 
 ever!!!" 
 
 ' '' This is the last time you will hear 
 from 
 
 ^'Sophia Selwyn/' 
 
 The perusal of the above, had a most 
 violent effect upon the unhappy Lavinia ; 
 she fainted several times in ih^ arms of 
 Selina, who was herself too much agitated 
 to afford consolation to her Sister. 
 
 When Martha Hood v/as informed of 
 
 the circumstance, she hastened to the 
 
 - assistance 
 
208 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT^ 
 
 assistance of the fair afflicted^ and endea-* 
 voured to console her with a Mother's 
 tenderness; but her endeavours to infuse 
 comfort into ths breast of Miss Rosemont 
 were fruitless; Hope was fled^, and comfort 
 refused to act without her old ally. A fever 
 and a delirium were the consequences of 
 the agitation of her mind^ upon reading 
 the fatal scroll. The first two or three 
 days of her indisposition^ during which 
 period the Abbess continued dangerously 
 ill, she was carefully attended by the 
 Physician of that good Lady, upon the 
 order of Father Overdon, who shewed 
 more than usual compassion for the afflic- 
 tion of the lovely Lavinia; yet he was an 
 entire stranger to the cause of her suf- 
 fering. 
 
 Father Overdon, being senior priest^ 
 and moreover of a commanding temper, 
 generally regulated the important business 
 of the Convent, relative to secular mat- 
 ters; leaving those of a religious concern, 
 
 cxccvt 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DE.SERT. 209 
 
 except in extraor dinar y cases, to the siiper- 
 intendance of Father Clement; monastic 
 regulations, in those days, being in many- 
 respects different to the rules observed in 
 religious houses, during the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries. The cells of 
 the two Fathers were in two opposite 
 towers, and both had doors which opened, 
 the one into the area^ the other upon the 
 Desert. 
 
 For the first two or three days, we have 
 observed, Laviftia was attended by a Phy- 
 sician, by the order of Father Overdon; 
 Father Clement visiting her in the capacity 
 of a religious adviser. After that period, 
 the Lady Abbess, no longer requiring 
 medical assistance. Father Overdon objected 
 to the Doctor's going to the Convent, on 
 Miss Rosemont's account, though her 
 disorder was then at the heisiht of its ma- 
 lignancy. 
 
 Every one employed about the sick 
 beauty, wondered at, and objected to, the 
 prohibition of the Father ; but he pleaded 
 
 a reliance 
 
210 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 a reliance on Providence, and averred his 
 being incited to the measure by a vepy 
 extraordinary nocturnal appearance, which 
 he refused, notwithstanding, to relate. 
 
 Selina importuned — Martha Hood 
 urged — the Abbess remonstrated — Father 
 Clement argued — and others of the Con- 
 vent entreated — but all in vain ; Father 
 Overdon was peremptory, and vowed no 
 Doctor should be admitted within the 
 walls, on account of Lavinia Rosemont ; 
 whose cure he himself woTild undertake 
 to effect. 
 
 At the period in which we write, the 
 treatment of diseases was diametrically 
 opposite to that which is in vogue in the 
 present day. A patient who was then 
 affiicted with a fever, was kept so exces- 
 sively hot, that the disease gathered strength 
 from the mode of intended cure, and 
 nothing but the determination of Nature 
 to resist, and rise superior to such flagrant 
 outrage, could have saved hundreds from 
 falling victims to diplomatic skill. 
 
 This 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. gl 1 
 
 This hot-house plan had been observed 
 both with regard to Lavinia and the Lady 
 Abbess, who had most carefully been pre- 
 served from every breath of salutary air^ 
 while their lungs were kindly left at perfect 
 liberty to ex-h<i\e and //z-hale the most 
 noxious effluvia. 
 
 But now, contrary to the generally 
 received opinion of proper management. 
 Father Overdon insisted upon superintend- 
 ing the case of Miss Rosemont, who, he 
 averred, ought to have a free circulation 
 of air around her ; ordered the attendants 
 to open both the doors and windows of 
 her apartment, and to let her drink cold 
 v/ater as plentifully as she plea'ied; more- 
 over, that the same pure element should 
 be carried to her bed-side, as incited by 
 that old fashioned Physician, Nature ; she 
 had often strenuously insisted upon, that 
 in it she might wash her face^ and bathe 
 her hands. 
 
 Alarmed by such a proceeding, the nurses 
 wept and prayed for a reverse of orders, 
 
 but 
 
212 
 
 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT* 
 
 but Father Overdon was inflexible ; his mea- 
 sures were pursued^ and^ to his own asto- 
 nishment, Lavinia Rosemont preserved 
 from a fate that was judged inevitaMe. Shall 
 we enquire into the motive which actuated 
 the holy man, in his mandate respecting 
 the aiilicted Sister ? 
 
 We are afraid to inspect the secret re- 
 cesses of his heart, lest the scrutiny should 
 produce a disclosure which Would reflect 
 dishonour on his most righteous order. 
 
 Had Lavinia offended him ? and did he 
 seek so black a revenge ? Had she a fortune 
 in her possession which, upon her demise, 
 would devolve to the sacred institution? or 
 shall v/e charitably suppose, that his ardent 
 wish for her recovery, aided by his superior 
 judgement, determined him to pui-sue the 
 extraordinary measure ? 
 
 Alas ! to the last, as to the two first, 
 questions, we must give an unqualified 
 negative ; she had never offended him ; 
 she had no fortune to bequeath; he did 
 not wish her recovery ; no^ her death was 
 
 the 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 213 
 
 the prayer, at least the desire; a prai/cr to 
 that effect would have returned to him, 
 loaded with wraths and have stricken him 
 dead ; her death was the desire of his soul ; 
 and he impiously believed that his pre- 
 scription would effect his wishes. 
 
 There are some — it is not an observation 
 in pointy but it is analogous to the sub- 
 ject — there are some who are so liter ally, 
 not spiritually, religious, that they suppose 
 the curse of a priest or a parent will, 
 inevitably, light upon the head of the 
 object of the malediction : — that because 
 the Father, the Mother, or the Parson, 
 denounces destruction on the poor of- 
 fender, the GOD, the Righteous GOD, the 
 Universal Father of All Mankind, will 
 attend to the impious imprecation of 
 an unnatural parent; and in weak, in 
 blind, compliance to his diabolical prayer, 
 blast the prosperity of a human being, 
 whose offence was, perhaps, nothing more 
 than a refusal to obey an unlawful 
 mandate ! ' 
 
 And 
 
214 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 And can a bigotted belief of human 
 supremacy, so totally subvert human rea- 
 son as to incline to such a preposterous 
 persuasion ? 
 
 It can. We have known instances, 
 which, in this case, amount to proof, 
 where a good understanding has been so 
 warped by prejudice, as to draw the most 
 absurd conclusions, in respect to the sub- 
 ject of this digression. 
 
 A family has been unfortunate in all, or 
 most, of its branches. Perchance, it has 
 been remembered that one or more of its 
 progenitors have, in a systematic manner, 
 cursed their offspring; in the common 
 jargon of parental malediction, wishing 
 they never might prosper in this world, 
 and so forth; or that thev have been 
 otherwise notoriously wicked ; and then 
 the wise comment is, that the unhappy 
 individuals suffer in consequence of the 
 curse or crimes of their ancestors. 
 
 Blasphemous assertion !^and, to descend 
 in invective, weak, absurd, and foolish, in 
 
 the 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 215 
 
 the superlative degree ! Under the Jeivish 
 Code of Laws^ this sophism would have 
 gained attention; though even in the 
 latter part of that system, the doctrine 
 was positively abolished; but when such 
 a dispensation as the Christian has been 
 offered and accepted; — what an unlearned 
 disciple must he be, who talks of chil- 
 drens' sufferings for the iniquities of their 
 parents ! How many good young people 
 do we see produced from criminal elders ! 
 How many abandoned ones, from those 
 whose conduct is exemplary ! 
 
 In a family of many children, it is seldom 
 that all are faulty, or all innocent; from 
 what mode of reasoning, it may be asked, 
 is this knotty point to find a solution, if 
 we judge their fate to be consequent upon 
 merits or demerits of their fathers and 
 mothers ? That many who have been 
 loaded by paternal malediction, have^ 
 nevertheless, lived long and prosperous, 
 who will deny ? 
 
 But 
 
216 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 But these instances^ numerous as they 
 are, are forgotten, or jiot advanced; while 
 the one in a hundred^ on the contrary 
 side, is brought forward, as incontestible 
 argument;, that a parent's curse will blast 
 a child*s prosperity, if not seal its eternal 
 destruction. 
 
 Shall we comment on this subject ? 
 Shall we continue it any longer ? 
 
 No ; our light readers are already dis- 
 pleased with the tedious length of its 
 moralizing page; and our seniors, some 
 of them, offended with the doctrine. — 
 Therefore, to please both parties, and to 
 ease ourselves^ we proceed to 
 
 CHAP. 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 217 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 3Iiss Rosemont, still deranged, writes to Sophia, 
 
 — Her Recoverj/. — Her Character, — A 
 
 Visit in the Qualitj/ Style. — A 
 
 Midnight Conversation. — And 
 
 Signals portentous. 
 
 HEN Miss Rosemont, who^ by order 
 of Father Overdon was indul<>"ed in every 
 requisition, was first able to leave her bed, 
 she demanded pen, ink, and paper, which 
 being procured, she v/rote while her rea- 
 son was still clouded by the effects of the 
 fever, to her beloved Sophia, in the fol- 
 lowing style of incoherence. — 
 
 VOL. I. ^ L ''^o. 
 
^IS The nuns of the desert. 
 
 *^*^No, Sophia, no; you never loved me^ 
 if vou had-^ " 
 
 *^'But, O ! you did; Yes, and dearly too! 
 And who was so dear to 7ne; who was to 
 me so much my own soul ! None. No 
 one/* 
 
 *^*^None ! Not even — was he ! — Horatio 
 Congreve ! And he too thinks me vile and 
 false, and wicked ! And every body says I 
 am a lost poor creature. " 
 
 *^'But can you, Sophia, my friend Oh^ 
 
 what a sweet consoling word is that of a 
 Friend I" 
 
 '^ And who were such friends as Sophia 
 Selwvn and Lavinia Rosemont ! Where 
 are two to be found who were so dear to 
 each other ! '* 
 
 " And Oh ! what visions of pleasure — 
 what scenes of delight, when Horatio and 
 Ferdinand Congreve '' 
 
 ''But I cannot write. No; I cannot 
 write; I can only weep and sigh, and weep 
 
 and 
 
 1 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT 2 I 9 
 
 and sigh, the names of my Sophia Selwyn 
 
 and . And whose ? — Alas, they are all 
 
 gone!" 
 
 " Pity, Oh ! pity, the discarded, the lost, 
 
 ^^Lavinia." 
 
 After this, the fair mourner was continu- 
 ally at her pen ; but displeased with her 
 own expressions, no sooner had she mark- 
 ed, than she burnt the paper. Selina was 
 weighed down by her own and her Sister's 
 grief. Disgusted by the obvious treachery 
 of William Selw^yn, whose specious man- 
 ners had taught her guileless heart to heave 
 its first soft sigh, there was not one object 
 in creation for whose sake she desired ever 
 again to emerge beyond the walls of the 
 Convent; therefore the veil was now be- 
 come her fervent wish; and she hoped 
 Lavinia likewise would determine upon 
 seclusion. 
 
 L 2 Let 
 
220 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Let US now investigate the motive of 
 Father Overdon's so siiddenlv assuming an 
 interest in the fate of Lavinia Rosemont, 
 about whom^ antecedent to this epoch in 
 cur Memoirs^ he seldom seemed to trouble 
 himself. 
 
 As we wrote the word seemed, a sigh — 
 as involuntary as a sigh can be — interrupted 
 the perfect silence which^ for a considerable 
 period, had reigned throughout our cham- 
 bers. Father Overdon had seemed uncon- 
 cerned respecting the destination of Miss 
 Rosemont; the sanctified^ the venerated^ 
 teacher of religion, had perceived indeed 
 that she was beautiful. — Beautiful beyond 
 the Daughters of the Sons of Men ! 
 
 Her complexion alo7ie would have de- 
 cided herri^ht to the title of loveliness. 
 The proportion of r.kin that covered her 
 face^, was so decorated by the Mlly and 
 the rose^ that the delighted eye could 
 scarcely spare a glance to the features ; but 
 that which spread itself over her bosom, 
 was most exquisite ; its brilliancy seemed 
 
 to 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 221 
 
 to give to her face a blush of consciousness 
 that its elegance was. if possible, sur- 
 passed. 
 
 The beautv of her teeth — the rich tint 
 of her lip- — the luxuriance of the finest 
 coloured hair — next demanded attention ; 
 but they would demand in vain, had we 
 not taken her portrait while she was asleep; 
 for the moment that sovereign feature, her 
 eye, was unclosed^ numberless other 
 beauties shrunk into non-observance. Her 
 shape, her air, her manner, ^\^ere always 
 conspicuous; yet no exterior excellence 
 was named by those who were acquainted 
 ivith the superior charms of her mind ; it 
 was there that she shone with almost unri- 
 valled power; it was there that she sur- 
 passed those who surpassed thousands; it 
 was there that Nature, *n a mood most 
 bountiful, had delighted to lavish upon 
 he; favourite, gifts m- st truly inestimable. 
 
 Ea y and sweet, yet str^mg and elevated; 
 
 gentle and affectionate, yet lively and 
 
 versatile; marked the features of her mind. 
 
 L 3 When 
 
f 22 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 When she entered into company^ it ap* 
 peared as if a new ray of light had pervaded 
 the room; when she asked a question, 
 she seemed to convey intelligence. 
 
 This was the character which Horace 
 Congreve gave to an enquiring friend^ of 
 Lavinia Rosemont ; and in this light she 
 appeared to good Father Overdon. ''Divine 
 creature !" — said he once aloud^ when — — 
 nobody heard him^ '^ She will soon be 
 professed^ and then ! " 
 
 Strange^ that thus admiring the Divine 
 JMiss Rosemont, he should wish to see her 
 extirpated from the Creation ! There was 
 but one thing that Father Overdon loved 
 more than beauty; and that one thing was 
 gold. 
 
 " Of what use was gold to a Monastic V* 
 Gold would buy beauty — and Wine. 
 And what wise man but says^ that two 
 good things are better than one ? 
 
 In the dead of as dark a night as the first 
 of August could exhibit^ a coach, with six 
 horses, was drawn up to the gate of the 
 
 Convent ; 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. §23 
 
 Convent; the bell rang with violence^ 
 and a demand for the instant appearance 
 of Holy Father Overdon, made by a man 
 sumptuously habited^ with ensigns of the 
 highest order of nobiiity^ who was laid 
 upon one of the seats of the coach^ at- 
 tended by another^ in a livery of purple 
 and silver. 
 
 The demand was complied with. Holy 
 Father Overdon hurried out of bed to 
 wait upon the great man, whom the attend- 
 ants told him, was a Duke; but they 
 refused to give his more particular title. 
 
 The Duke was enough for the Father. 
 His Grace of Grub-street would have 
 pleased him as well as any other Grace ; 
 the honour, and the expected profit of 
 such an extraordinary midnight visit, pos- 
 sessed all his ideas, when he made obeisance 
 to this unknown titled personage. 
 
 The conference between his Grace and 
 
 his Reverence, continued till the morning 
 
 dawn ; and ended to the perfect satisfaction 
 
 of the parties. The first communication 
 
 L 4 made 
 
224 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 made by the great, to the good, man^ was^ 
 that Lavinia and Selina Rosemont iwust, 
 Avithout delay ;, be admitted into the Sister- 
 hoodj as their return to the World would 
 be productive of the most dreadful conse- 
 quences; and would^ perhaps^ have the 
 horrible effect of overturning even the 
 State itself. 
 
 Something like a reward to the person 
 who should eifect this desirable purpose^ 
 was then held out by the personage^ though 
 in language the most distant; but the Father 
 was well read in the dialect, and expounded 
 as fast as the other proposed ; by this means 
 they soon arrived to a perfect understand- 
 ing of each other's meaning; and our 
 Ecclesiastic perceived, that the information 
 of Lavinia's dangerous state of health, 
 would not shock the nerves of his right 
 honourable friend. 
 
 And he perceived aright ; the cheek of 
 his auditor was flushed at the relation, and 
 his eye caught new liveliness. Apparently 
 a man of long experience — for his time- 
 silvered 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 225 
 
 Silvered locks, indeed his whole exterior, 
 bespoke him verging to life's decline — he 
 saw, he felt, the tone of Father Overdon's 
 reply to be in perfect unison with the 
 chords of his heart. The conversation 
 now sank to almost a whisper; and the 
 result was, that Lavinia Rosemont was to 
 be left to the care of Nature, who, it was 
 universally believed, would soon lead the 
 beauty beyond the regions of sorrow ; 
 after which, Selina was to be preferred to 
 the honour of Nunhood; and that the 
 concerted measures might wear an air of 
 kindness, it was art- edict that Miss Rose- 
 mont should be indulged in every thin or 
 she required; accordingly. Nature pre- 
 sided, and urged the requisition of every 
 thing salutary, whereby the devoted Miss 
 Rosemont, though her mind was under 
 the most heavy pressure, daily recovered 
 health and strength. 
 
 During the conference between the 
 Peer and the Priest, the Convent was 
 alarmed by a most hideous scream, whicli.. 
 L 5 seemed 
 
226 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 seemed to issue from beneath the surface 
 of the earth ; and soon after a stream of 
 fire was seen by the Portress^ and attendants 
 who were in waitings to run in divers di- 
 rections through the area^ during which^ 
 a hollow groan was heard^ as if from the 
 walls of the Castle^ and the cavity at the 
 foot of the Ninth Tower^, gave forth 
 sounds most terrific; emitting at the same 
 time such noxious vapours, as almost suffer 
 cated those who ventured to approach. 
 
 When this was reported to the Great 
 man, he stood aghast, and his countenance 
 pourtrayed horror and dismay. 
 
 When the Religions man had received 
 the tale, he endeavoured to ridicule the 
 relaters, who were so offended by his 
 infidelity, that they exaggerated the phe- 
 nomena to a height of the utmost extra- 
 vagance. What the Priest really thought^ 
 no one knew ; his face was a picture of a 
 dark night, illumined at intervals by flashes 
 of fearful coloured fire, but his words 
 V7ere the words of bravery ; he avoided 
 
 as 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 227 
 
 as much as possible the appearance^ because 
 he scorned the imputation of fear, and 
 almost made the servants ashamed of 
 having credited the evidence of their 
 senses. 
 
 The great man now departed with his- 
 suite. The good man proceeded, as has 
 already appeared in the concerted mea- 
 sure, respecting Lavinia Rosemont, 
 
 L 6 CHAP, 
 
228 THE NUNS OP THE DESEKT, 
 
 aef*^ 
 
 CHAP. XVIIL 
 
 The Fathers again contrasted. — Preparatio?m 
 for the Sacred Vow interrupted by 
 Mi/stic Sounds* 
 
 Jl HE insolence of Nature in presuming 
 to counteract the pious projects of such 
 a man as Father Overdon^ was an outrage 
 against hir. supremacy in his own district ; 
 it almost rendered him n questioner of X\e 
 kindness of Providence. 
 
 " Did he not regularly perform all the 
 
 ceremonies of his most holy and sacred 
 
 function ? Did he not exhort, with the 
 
 3 utmost 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 229 
 
 Utmost severity, all those who confessed 
 their crimes to him, to redeem their souls- 
 by liberal donations to his most religious 
 order ? Did he not duly administer pardon, 
 and peace, and indulgence, to every one 
 who applied proper! j/ to ,hini, for such 
 portions of Divine Vouchsafement ? Did 
 he not industriously conceal all his own 
 misdoin2;s, lest the knowledo;e of his few 
 errors should prove a stumbling block to 
 the unlearned, in the school of Righteous- 
 ness!^" 
 
 Nay, he did not — yes he did— without 
 fee, and without gift, freely absolve- 
 from all their offences, those who, by 
 the frailty of monastic nature, he 
 himself had unwarily led into Sin ; giving 
 them, moreover, tickets of indulgence, as 
 preserve in case of future similar trans- 
 gressions! And \>ere the prayers of such 
 a holy man as This, suffered to return 
 empty and una-nswered, from the Throne 
 of Grace, from whence were issued pro- 
 mises, that the supplications of all, who 
 
 prayed 
 
t30 THE NUNS OF THE DESEHT. 
 
 prayed in fervency of spirit should be 
 granted ? A groan succeeded these ejacu- 
 lations; he prayed again ; his heart seemed 
 chilled; its aspirations returned upon his 
 head ; and his mind was as a book with 
 black leaves. 
 
 A gentle tapping at the door of his 
 cell;, awakened Father Overdon from his 
 sombre ejaculations. Father Clement^ with 
 an Angel's smile^ entered the apartment ; 
 In a heart of simple goodness^ the smile 
 would have created sensations pure and 
 celestial. 
 
 In one of such eompUcated righteousness 
 as was that of Father Overdon^ it incited 
 malignant envy^ and he turned his head 
 from the baneful object ; " Blasted be the 
 serenity of thy countenance !" — silently 
 ejaculated the gloomy Friar. 
 
 That ejaculation^ like its predecessors^ 
 was totally without effect ; the features of 
 Father Clement became even still more 
 illumined^ as pity^ for the disturbed appear- 
 ance 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 231 
 
 ance of his Brother^ lighted a sacred feiTour 
 in his countenance. 
 
 Overdon, recollecting himself, now 
 assumed a different face, and turning to 
 his visitor, said, '' You see me under great 
 concern for the disturbed conscience of a 
 poor trembling offender; but — (with a 
 deep drawn sigh he spake) we will leave 
 her to the Lord/' 
 
 Father Clement^ guileless himself^ sus- 
 pected not guile in others, therefore believed 
 his Brother had given the true cause of 
 his concern. 
 
 Early the preceding evening he had 
 retired to rest;, and slept till he was awak- 
 ened by the bustle occasioned by the 
 scream^ which those who were in waiting 
 believed to be not produced from any 
 human organ; hastening out of his bed^ 
 he advanced to the window, saw the fire 
 running round the walls, and heard the sub- 
 sequent groan, which he affirmed had pro- 
 ceeded from the Ninth Tower; whereupon 
 he wrapped himself in a gown, and after 
 
 the 
 
252 THE NUNS OF THE DESEHT. 
 
 the departure of the stranger^ went to the 
 cell of Father Overdon. 
 
 *'What/' said Father Clement, after 
 some introductory conversation, "ean 
 have occasioned the extraordinary sounds 
 and appearance, which I just now wit- 
 nessed V 
 
 Overdon had by this time formed a, 
 sketch of the plan he intended to pursue,, 
 with respect to the Misses Rosernonts, and 
 artfully replied, "I suspect some wicked 
 spirit, under the semblance of innocence^ 
 hath-had admittance into our HoFy retire- 
 ment ; but let us not form a hasty opinion, 
 let lis zvaiL ' 
 
 The good Clement's reply led to a point 
 which would have introduced various topics 
 of conversation; whereupon Overdon, not 
 chusing to talk upon the subject, said 
 with much meaning in his countenance, 
 *' Brother, my mind is charged with great 
 matters, I must retire to meditation/' 
 
 A short dialogue ensued; and Father 
 Clement returned to. his own apartment, 
 
 to 
 
THl NUNS OF THE DESERT. S33 
 
 to ruminate on the chronicled mysteries 
 of the Ninth Tower, to which he had not 
 previously given much consideration. — 
 Overdon now completed his system re- 
 specting Lavinia, whose illness, treatment, 
 and unexpected recovery, have occupied 
 several antecedent pages. 
 
 Father Overdon, than whom a more 
 artful Priest never regulated the spiritual 
 concerns of cloistered beauty, now exult- 
 ingly pointed to the good effects of his 
 treatment of the case of Miss Rosemont. 
 
 '' Did I not tell you," said he to Father 
 Clement, the Abbess, and the administering^ 
 Sisters, " did I not tell you that I knew 
 what I was about ? Did I not prophesy her 
 amendment .-^ Did I not dream that she 
 could only be saved by giving a loose 
 rein to Nature ? Yes, I did ! And had I 
 not had faith in the Divine instruction, 
 one of the greatest ornaments to our 
 Society would have been lost irretrievably; 
 but now we will secure her continuance 
 amongst us, by admitting her to the veU, 
 
 and 
 
234 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 and as we have a special right to shorten 
 the probationary term, both she and her 
 Sister shall be professed as soon as possible, 
 by which means, as the great personage 
 w^ho consigned them to our holy seminary 
 hath assured me, a most magnificent do- 
 nation shall be added to the original 
 establishment of this Monastery/* 
 
 He ceased speaking, and looked with 
 triumph on those who had opposed his 
 measures, and who now were awed into 
 silence by the eveiit, and by his imperious 
 manner of demanding their confidence in 
 his supernatural intelligence. 
 
 We must now pass over a space of time, 
 to the arrival of that period which brought 
 health and tranquillity, with truth we 
 might add happiness, to the lovely Lavi- 
 nia Rosemont ; and content, if not felicity, 
 to the breast of Seiina. In the cheek of 
 the first, a rosy glow proclaimed a sound 
 constitution, and the brilliancy of a star 
 sparkling in her eye, bespoke vivacity of 
 soul; while the placid smile faintly playing 
 
 upoft 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 235 
 
 upon the features of the other, evinced an 
 endeavour to rise superior to disappointed 
 affection; which still, though she now abhor- 
 red the object, had left a pang in her breast. 
 
 The constancy of Selina Rosemont to 
 remembered, though abjured, affection, 
 will be applauded, at the expence of that of 
 Lavinia, whose supposed versatile attach- 
 ment will draw upon her the censure of 
 every tender-hearted fair; and indeed of 
 everyone whose opinion is estimable. Were 
 the charge justly founded, her extenuation, 
 would not be attempted by us, as we hold 
 constancy of principle and sentiment, 
 highly commendable, when the basis on 
 which either has been erected, will bear 
 the scrutiny of virtue. 
 
 Lavinia Rosemont had been first irresisti- 
 bly pleased with the exterior of Horace 
 Congreve, whom, in a few weeks, she 
 ardently loved, because she found in him 
 every great and good principle. The 
 Graces presided, the Virtues abounded^ 
 while a manly tenderness^ directed to her 
 
 alone^ 
 
236 THE NUNS OF THE r>?.SEliT, 
 
 alone, softened the ma! -ty of a fonri 
 which conveyed an ider of a hero; he stilt 
 lived in her heart ; he was still the constant 
 object of her contemplations; to hirn was: 
 still directed her every wish ; and on him 
 still rested all her hope o: happiness. Yet 
 was Lavinia^ though seciuaed within the 
 walls of a Monastery^ and entered into, 
 her novitiate, easy, cheerful^ and even 
 
 gay. 
 
 The votaries to mutual affection con- 
 demn her; the advocates for friendship 
 sentence her to ignominious remembrance; 
 the champions of both pronounce her 
 unworthy to exist in historic page. 
 
 What can we do for our Lavinia ? How 
 extenuate her crimes ? How reconcile her 
 to those whom her traiterous conduct has 
 constituted her enemies ? We wish to 
 bribe her Jury-women, but they are inflexi- 
 ble ; and Lavinia Rosemont stands branded 
 a rebel to Love and to Friendship. 
 
 Dav after day, week after week, the 
 hours rolled on, unmarked by any varying 
 
 incident. 
 
 At 
 
•THE NUNS OF THE I>ESERT. 237 
 
 At length the time approached^ when, 
 according to tne riiies established by its 
 founder in our Convent of the Desert, 
 solemn notice was given by the senior 
 Priest, Father Overdon, that two Sisters, 
 at the expiration of the given term, would 
 take upon them the sacred vow of Holy 
 Virginity, and renounce for ever all com- 
 merce with their fellow creatures, without 
 the consecrated walls. 
 
 At entering the Church, (which, on 
 these occasions, was always crowded by the 
 inhabitants of the vicinage, it being en- 
 joined, that both the notice, and the sub- 
 sequent act of renunciation, should be 
 publicly given and performed,) an un- 
 usual rustling was heard to sweep along the 
 WTiUs, like the hissing of a dissatisfied au- 
 ditory ifl a Theatre, and presently a report, 
 as of small cannon, issued from the inward 
 court. 
 
 Father Clement stopped the commence- 
 ment of the ceremony, which Father 
 Overdon would have continued through 
 
 all 
 
^38 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 till opposition^ had not the assembled 
 Congregation (people being in those 
 times more superstitious than in our pre- 
 sent day of super-refinement) rushed out 
 of the Churchy from an apprehension 
 that the edifice would tumble^ and crush 
 them to death. 
 
 Father Overdon^ in a rage at this impious 
 desertion of the holy office, bawled an 
 interdiction to every one who left the 
 Temple; but he bawled in vain ; the fear 
 of bodily destruction outweighed that 
 arising from his menaces; broken heads 
 appearing at that moment m^ore terrific 
 than even anathemas from the throne of 
 his holiness the Pope. 
 
 The Church-yard was now filled with 
 almost all the dwellers in the environs of 
 the Desert^ and the Monastics returned 
 to their seclusion, where. the utmost asto- 
 nishment prevailed throughout the Sister- 
 hood, on account of the phenomenon of 
 which they had been ear- witnesses. 
 
 Father Overdon continued enraged at 
 
 the 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 239 
 
 the pusillanimous retreat of the congrega- 
 tion; upbraided the good Clement with 
 having encouraged the superstition of the 
 Abbess and Sisters ; and insisted upon the 
 appointment of the next day for a renewal 
 of the preceding ceremony; to which 
 Father Clement^ disregarding the harsh 
 language respecting himself^ objected^ on 
 account of the recent alarm to the people, 
 who had assembled on the occasion; alledg- 
 ing that their minds were now in that fervour 
 which would heighten a common occur- 
 rence into the marvellous ; and that the 
 slightest unaccouDtable noise would be 
 deemed supernatural; but still Father 
 Overdon continued inflexible in his deter- 
 mination ; and the day ensuing was fixed 
 upon for the re-commencement of the 
 ceremony^ which should announce to the 
 listening worlds the design of the Sisters 
 to hide themselves from Society. 
 
 CHAP 
 
240 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 s-r 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Some account of the Fowider of the Menastery, 
 
 — ^ Re-co7nmencement oj the Cerenit>nies.* — 
 
 J gain interrupted. — Subterraneous 
 
 Music. — Exploring the l^inth 
 
 Tozver. — The Horrible 
 
 Result, 
 
 JL HE founder of the Monastery in the 
 Desert^ in whose family the Castle and its 
 domains had been vested ever since it 
 was erected;, was a man of immense pro- 
 perty, and almost a Sovereign in the 
 district of his estate. Whatever project 
 entered his mind^ he pursued through all 
 
 opposition^ 
 
'TIIE NUNS OP THE DESERT, 241 
 
 Opposition, nor rested till his plans were 
 complete ; indeed almost the whole of his 
 term of existence had been spent in design, 
 till the age of sixty-three, when he deter- 
 mined to live for himself, and enjoy the 
 fruits of labours which had been attended 
 with prodigious expence. 
 
 The number of Nuns, all beautiful young 
 women, who gladly accepted the protection 
 of a m.an so opulent, was complete in a short 
 space after the endowment of the Convent, 
 and the Abbess, who had long been of 
 his acquaintance, was very proud of her 
 cloistered belles. 
 
 The residence o^ our gallant funder 
 ivas just without the verge of the Forest 
 that surrounded the Convent ; the build- 
 ing, which was superb, was afterwards 
 totally destroyed by fire, and the gardens 
 laid waste ; so that, at the era to v;hich vre 
 are arrived, no vestige of the once mag- 
 nificent habitation remained. 
 
 The pious design — for what otlisr design 
 could urge a man to such profusion — • 
 would probably have led to canonisation 
 
 VOL. I. M had 
 
242 ' THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 had not the Saintship been superseded by 
 the prying curiosity of a Priest^, who made 
 a discovery so inimical to the holy dis- 
 tinction, that, but for the great riches of 
 our founder, he would have been ruined 
 by the heavy fines laid upon him by the 
 Pontiff. At length, however, he purchased 
 absolution and some tickets of indulgence, 
 after which he once more began to live for 
 himself J when a fell enemy, still severer 
 than the Priest, contracted his views, and 
 
 laid him low for ever ! 
 
 His death was occasioned by shall 
 
 we say by what ? No ; we love our species 
 in general, though we are sometimes 
 severe upon individuals ; and indeed that 
 very severity is produced by the spirit of 
 benevolence, however much it has been 
 misconstrued by superficial commentators ; 
 it being occasioned by a desire to reform 
 the vicious, and confirm the virtuous part \ 
 of the Community; we will therefore, 
 as an account of the latter end of the 
 individual last mentioned cannot produce 
 any good purpose, draw a veil over the 
 
 dismal 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT, 2iS 
 
 dismal story^ which^ with what preceded 
 the intelligence of his death, was found, 
 amongst some other records, in a chest in 
 one of the gateway towers. Many anec- 
 dotes, and many curiosities, w^ere discovered 
 in the same repository, which was devoted 
 to the use of the founder, who had a key 
 to a small outward door, which was scarcely 
 perceivable ; but which, after his death, 
 was taken away, and the chasm so securely 
 filled up, that not the smallest trace of 
 the opening remained. 
 
 The Church, which belonged to the 
 Monastery, was finished in the neatest 
 style imaginable ; its wall was united to 
 that of the Castle, from whence there was 
 a passage for the Nuns, who walked, un- 
 seen, to the galleries ; which were secured 
 from observation by a brass net-work, 
 lined with green silk. The lower part 
 was divided in the midst, one end bcir.g 
 devoted to the boarders and ser\'ants in 
 the Convent ; the other left open for the 
 inhabitants of the neighbourhood ; but 
 M 2 the 
 
244 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 the division was only slight bars of iron, 
 about three feet in height, placed at such 
 distances from each other, as just to ex- 
 clude any one's passing between. 
 
 The second day's ceremonial is now 
 about to commence. 
 
 The church-yard, and a part of the 
 church, is thronged with spectators, yet 
 an almost perfect silence reigns amidst the 
 crowd ; every ear is distended to catch 
 portentous sounds; every eye, to perceive 
 supernatural appearances. 
 
 And now, through an arch which sup- 
 ported a fine toned organ, behold the 
 entrance of the solemn and sanctified look* 
 ing Priest, Father Overdon. With a slow 
 step — a large folio open in his hands — he 
 marched up the aisle towards the Altar^ 
 followed by the Abbess, the two devoted 
 Sisters, and Father Clement. As they 
 approached the sacred square, a vivid flash 
 of lightning, instantaneously followed by 
 a tremendous clap of thunder, appalled 
 the congregation, and startled even the 
 
 senior 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 245 
 
 senior Friar; yet he still proceeded through 
 the low murmurs of the people^ who^ ranged 
 on each side without the iron railing, 
 began to view the ceremony with horror, 
 as deeming it presumptuous. 
 
 Presently the lightning again illumined 
 the Temple, and the thunder rolled at some 
 distance, while the liail rattled against the 
 painted w^indows ; and instantly a voice, 
 as from the roof of the building, pro- 
 nounced — 
 
 *' She is not thine, but mine/' 
 
 By this sentence, the congregation were 
 panic-struck, and knew not what opinion 
 to adopt, till Father Overdon, ascending 
 the stCDs of the Altar, harano;ued the au- 
 dience ; telling them that the w^ords, "She 
 is not thine, but mine," imported that one 
 of the Sisters, he presumed the first born^ 
 was chosen by Heaven for some peculiar 
 Holy office, and the witness in his spirit,, 
 spake her being a future Lady Abbess of 
 that Monastery. 
 
 The people now breathed applause, as 
 M 3 they 
 
^2i6 THE IsrUNS OF THE DESEHT. 
 
 thev had before murmured dissatisfaction; 
 so unstable are the opinions of the populace! 
 
 An audible sigh then seemed to proceed 
 from a fine painting of the Virgin, which 
 was fixed upon the segment of the arch 
 over the Altar ; it pervaded every ear, and 
 every eye was raised to the picture; which, 
 to the view of some of the gazers, appear- 
 ed to tremble, and to be in great agitation. 
 Again, they thought the omens prohibitory 
 to the seclusion of the Sisters, and disper- 
 sed, upon the close of the solemnity, with 
 disapprobation of the proceeding. 
 
 Father Clement, though not supersti- 
 tious, admitted,. nevertheless, the possibility 
 of the immediate interposition of Heaven 
 in the affairs of men, in cases of emer- 
 gency, and where human means were not 
 adequate to the desirable end in view. It 
 may be said, that an actual interposition 
 can never be absolutely necessary, because 
 it is in the power of Omnipotence secretly 
 so to influence the mind of man, that any 
 event may, by that means^ be produced. 
 
 Without 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. , 247 
 
 Without insisting upon the wisdom of 
 Providence, which must know the best 
 method of effecting its own designs, let 
 us ask if this silent influence is less an 
 interposition than more obvious measures, 
 and we shall be obliged to give a negative 
 to the question. 
 
 Father Clement spent some time in 
 meditating upon the preceding events^ 
 without drawing any determinate con- 
 clusion. The tempest, which had first 
 alarmed the people, whose minds the 
 circumstances of the preceding day had 
 ripened for the admission of marvellous 
 belief, he considered as a natural and 
 common occurrence; yet when he recol- 
 lected its suddenness — for though he had 
 been abroad, he certainly had not observed 
 any previous appearance of a storm — and 
 connected it with other phenomena, he 
 Vv'as bewildered by rising conjectures, 
 which were aided by the remembrance of 
 the nocturnal visit of the Great man; re- 
 specting whom, the most perfect silence 
 M 4 had 
 
S48 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 had been observed; together with his 
 Brother Overdon's subsequent conduct^ in 
 every thing relative to the Misses Rose- 
 mont. Thought followed thought^, till he 
 knew not zvhat to think; too good to be 
 suspicious, too wise to be credulous^ he 
 renounced conjecture^ and retired to 
 prayer. 
 
 The resource of Father Clement was 
 safe and salutary ; his perplexity was re- 
 lieved; his incertitude quieted; and his 
 mind tranquillised. He believed that he 
 was bid to wait ; he trusted^ and submitted ; 
 spent the remainder of the day in solitude^ 
 and, after vespers, retired to rest. 
 
 The sleep of this good man was soft, 
 easy, and refreshing ; that of his Brother 
 Friar, turbulent and fatiguing. He fan- 
 cied he heard — nay he certainly did hear 
 - — a voice at midnight, which warned him 
 to hezvare; but, though considerably 
 alarmed, he treated it as the illusion of a 
 disturbed imagination. 
 
 The rest of the night, and several 
 
 svccessive 
 
TflE NUNS OP TflE DESERT. 249 
 
 successive days^ passed over quietly^ but on 
 the seventh evening, the whole Convent 
 was alarmed by soft harmony from some 
 invisible musician ; it seemed to proceed 
 from the top of the JWn^/i Tozver — so much 
 the dread of every inhabitant within the 
 walls of the Monastery. Overdon was 
 now more alarmed than he would acknow- 
 ledge. Clement was undismayed, conscious 
 of no guile, he feared no evil; and his 
 heart sent such a smile into his counte- 
 nance, as greatly offended his trembling 
 Brother. 
 
 The prayer bell was ordered to be rang^ 
 and in a few seconds, the two Priests^ 
 attended by the Sisterhood, were assembled 
 in the Chapel ; w^here, at the request of 
 Overdon, the good Clement read prayers^ 
 during which every thing was perfectly 
 quiet ; but no sooner was the little con- 
 gregation dispersed, than the sounds of 
 harmony began to vibrate through the 
 area, and every listener seemed to be 
 struck mute with astonishment. 
 
 M J As 
 
250 THE NUNS OF THE DESEET. 
 
 As the music^ upon an approach to the 
 Ninth Tower^ was heard more distinctly 
 than in any other part of the Castle, the 
 two Priests determined to enter the awful 
 recess^ which, for a considerable period, 
 had remained unexplored by any one of 
 the Community. After they had removed 
 a parcel of stones, that had been placed 
 before the door, they attempted, but in 
 vain, to turn the enormous key which for^ 
 merly used to give entrance to this terrific 
 recess. 
 
 Wearied with the ineffectual endeavour, 
 they returned to the inhabited part of the 
 edifice, and provided themselves with 
 instruments to break open the door, whichy 
 when they returned, gave way, to the 
 astonishment of all the beholders, at the 
 slightest touch. 
 
 Recovering themselves from the effect 
 of the incident, they assumed sufficient 
 resolution to enter the gloomy cavity, 
 upon which the sounds of harmony grew 
 fainter and fainter, and at length entirely 
 
 ceased. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 251 
 
 ceased. The approach of night rendered 
 it necessary they should be furnished with 
 lights^ the better to enable them to search 
 the recesses of the Tower; but no sooner 
 did they enter than the lamps were extin- 
 guished; twice more they essayed to 
 re-light them^ and twice more were they 
 puffed out by some means undiscoverable. 
 They then furnished themselves with glass 
 covers, and proceeded^ undisturbed, to ex- 
 plore the mystic Tower, but nothing more 
 than the bare fiint walls were to be seen; 
 the floor, the sides, and the ceiling, ap 
 pearing entire and impenetrable. 
 
 After having satisfied their curiosity 
 below, they ascended a small winding 
 stone staircase, which carried them to the 
 second story; this was alike unproductive 
 of information; the third, which was open- 
 to the Heavens, afforded no more satisfac- 
 tion than the two others. The walls, the 
 floors, and, in the first and second stories, 
 the ceilings likewise, were all in tolerable 
 condition; the rain that fell into the 
 M 6 roofless 
 
252 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 roofless apartments, having found an aper- 
 ture by which it was immediately carried 
 off the hard oak floors, it could scarcely 
 penetrate, and which the winds that con- 
 stantly drafted round, and through, the 
 building, kept perfectly free from moisture. 
 
 Having examined every corner that gave 
 the appearance of an opening, they were 
 preparing to descend, when their ears 
 were assailed by such groans, united to 
 screams, as would have appalled every 
 heart less stout than that of Amadis de 
 Gaul; and, as if these were insufficient^ 
 flashes of vivid fire darted from below and 
 through the v/indows. 
 
 In fine, th'e scene was terrific beyond 
 the power of detail. Dreading to go, yet 
 not daring to stay, they formed a phalanx, 
 and proceeded to the head of the stairs, 
 where their difficulty was increased to 
 almost insuperability, as only one person 
 at one time, could thread the narrow 
 flexure. 
 
 Father Clement alone appeared to be 
 
 undaunted 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESEHT. S5S 
 
 undaunted, and offered to take the van ; 
 Father Overdon wisely preserving his 
 bravery to bring up the rear; keeping, 
 however, one servant behind him to ward 
 off the horrid sensation of an apprehension 
 of feeling the claws of somethinoj worse 
 than human upon his shoulders. Proceed- 
 ing through dire yellings, which increased 
 as they descended, they reached the last 
 turning of the stairs, where their speed 
 was impeded by rising sulphurous flames, 
 which rendered their farther descent im- 
 possible. 
 
 Father Clement, who stood suspended 
 at the turninp; of the stairs, saw several 
 enormous shadows dance along the Vv^all 
 that was just opposite. For a moment he 
 stood irresolute, but, judging it would be 
 madness to venture into the flames, he 
 retreated, and the party returned to the 
 second story, where several of the young 
 Sisterhood fainted, and others added 
 screams of terror to those of horror below 
 stairs. 
 
 In 
 
§54 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 In this situation our explorers passed 
 three dreadful hours; after which the 
 noises ceased^ the fire disappeared^ and 
 they once more ventured down the stairs, 
 v/hich appeared black with smoke, and an 
 almost suffocating smell of sulphur filled 
 the lower apartment; the fumes of which 
 had pervaded the rcom in which, by cir- 
 cumstances, they had been con^ned. 
 
 Happy in an escape from this most 
 dreadful — and as Father Overdon denomi- 
 nated it — infernal Jslnth Tower, they has- 
 tened to the common parlour; and after, 
 by means of cordialic viands, they were, 
 in some measure, composed, again assem- 
 bled in the Chapel, and having spent some 
 time in prayer, retired to their beds, but 
 not to rest ; the preceding events having 
 too much disturbed, their spirits to admit of 
 hasty repose. 
 
 CHAP, 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESETIT. 955 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 The Great Man again Visits the Father — Tht 
 
 Veil suspended over the devoted Sisters^ 
 
 ^—A Prohibitory Sentence from a 
 
 Portrait of the Virgin. — The 
 
 Sisters vanish^ and are 
 
 seen no more,. 
 
 Notwithstanding the most sacred 
 
 silence was enjoined to every individual 
 who had witnessed the disturbances^ which 
 were related in our last chapter^ the storv 
 by some means got abroad. The young 
 boarders had frequent visitors, in their 
 relations and other intimate friends; to 
 whom it was suspected^ strongly as they 
 
 denied 
 
ZDO THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 denied the accusation, they had intimated 
 the wonders they had heard and seen. 
 
 The neighbourhood rang with the re- 
 port^ and several persons, whose children 
 boarded in the Convent^ sent to demand 
 their return ; but by the industry of the 
 Superiors, the matter was hushed to for- 
 getfulness, and the affairs of the Castle 
 were soon in their former train; though 
 the dread of the Miath Tower remained 
 unconquered. 
 
 In thecourse of a few days, the stillness of 
 the Cloister was aeain disturbed bv a second 
 visit of the nocturnal Grandee to Father Over- 
 don; the result of which was, a more firm 
 determination of the Friar to silence all 
 opposition to the Misses Rosemonts being 
 admitted to veil; and a declaration that 
 they should not be suffered to continue in 
 the Convent, except they were professed 
 with ail the expedition consistent with the 
 rules established at the foundation of the 
 Monastery, vvhich, in extraordinary cases^ 
 gave license to the two superintending 
 5 Priests 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. ' 257 
 
 Priests^ and the Lady Abbess, to dispense 
 with the period generally allotted to a 
 novitiate. 
 
 Father Clement disapproved all unusual 
 haste,, which, according to circumstances 
 in the present case, was not warranted; but 
 he was over-ruled, and Father Overdon 
 proceeded to an unprecedented length of 
 dispensing with customs, by antidating the 
 commencement of the fair Sisters novi- 
 tiate, carrying it back to the period of their 
 return from Ivy Tower, by which means 
 even the accustomary time was nearly 
 elapsed; what was wanting, was, by the 
 power given in the founder's rules', for- 
 mally dispensed with; and the day for the 
 ceremony of taking the irrevocable vow, 
 fixed at the distance of one week. 
 
 To this. Miss Rosemont strongly and 
 warmly objected, but the Father told her 
 he was authorised in his proceeding, by 
 him to whom she owed duty unbounded; 
 obedience implicit; that there was no al- 
 ternative between taking the veil, and 
 
 being 
 
258 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 being turned out to beggary; that were 
 she and her Sister to leave the Holy asylum, 
 there was not one human creature in ex- 
 istence who would give her six-pence to 
 keep her from starving ; and the Convent 
 had been so scandalised on her account, 
 that she should not stay in it one moment 
 longer, the time for which her board had 
 been paid being expired, than the period 
 he had allotted, except as one of the sacred 
 Sisterhood. 
 
 Lavinia, seconded by Selina, petitioned 
 most earnestly, but in vain, for one month's 
 respite ; the flint-hearted Friar was inflexi- 
 ble; neither prayers nor tears, from the 
 most beauteous lips and eyes in creation, 
 could move his purpose; the sentence was 
 gone forth. 
 
 The victims were necessitated to submit 
 to the sacrifice ; for where, were they to 
 be thrust from the Sanctuary, could they 
 
 find food, rest, or raiment ! ! ! 
 
 * * * ^ * * 
 
 The day is arrived that is selected to 
 
 immure 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 259 
 
 immure youth, health, beauty, and good- 
 ness, within the gloomy walls of a Convent 
 for ever — to deprive the world of one of 
 its greatest, and most valuable, ornaments 
 — to render useless and miserable, a being 
 who was destined to protect and bless the 
 poor, the helpless, and the friendless ! and 
 to administer happiness to a grateful and 
 admiring vicinity ! ! ! 
 
 ^^t 7^ ^T ^^ TpT ifi 
 
 Early in the morning the bell rang 
 to matins. Arrayed in vestments of purest 
 white — the black habit being reserved 
 till the conclusion of the ceremony, Lavinia 
 and Selina Rosemont were the first to obey 
 itssummons. With the most perfect serenity 
 of countenance — so subdued were they 
 to their approaching fate — did the devoted 
 beauties enter on the duty — the awful 
 duty of the day. 
 
 Father Clement turned away a wat'ry 
 eye when they approached; for he fancied 
 the sacrific« was not voluntary. 
 
 The 
 
260 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 The Lady Abbess congratulated them 
 on the peaceful happiness which would 
 now be theirs for ever; and the veiled 
 Sisters united in her encomiums upon a 
 cloistered life^ while the boarders almost 
 envied the importance that seemed to be 
 annexed to their circumstances. 
 
 Father Overdon eyed them askaunce with 
 malignant pleasure; his great aim^ he 
 silently exulted, w:as now accomplished; 
 he had safely netted them, and secured the 
 reward which was promised, under hand 
 and seal, by the Great man. 
 
 The Church was this morning crowded 
 more than it ever was known to be on a 
 similar occasion; the general expectation 
 of -more wonders being wound up to a 
 height the most extravagant. 
 
 When the duty began, and the fair Sis- 
 ters w^ere conducted by their supporters 
 to the Altar; the most solemn silence 
 prevailed through the attentive assembly : 
 Father Clement read an affectino- exhor- 
 dium.; from- his persuasive lips, sentiments 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESfillT. ' 26 1 
 
 of Piety acquired new beauty. No ; we 
 blaspheme — appeared undisguised in their 
 own sacred loveliness and lustre. 
 
 Father Clement descended. 
 
 Father Overdon mounted the rostrum. 
 
 The everlasting veils were borne by 
 four of the Sisterhood. 
 
 The Friar proceeded in imperious lan- 
 guage to enforce the absolute necessity 
 of a cloistered life; deprecating the 
 damnable sin of living in open Society, 
 begetting — that was his unhallowed ex- 
 pression- — Sons and Daughters for destruc* 
 tion. 
 
 The populace murmured* 
 
 The circling sigh, ending in a groan, 
 again startled the congregation, as no one 
 could tell whence it proceeded. 
 
 Presently a woman who was standing 
 in the middle aisle, said, in a tone of 
 affright to those who surrounded her — 
 "Gracious Powers! does the Virgin froWn?" 
 — fixing her eves upon the picture over 
 the Altar, which drew the attention of 
 
 those 
 
S62 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 those who heard her to the same object^ 
 and many of them said they saw the frown, 
 and thought the picture trembled. In- 
 stantly^ as if from the lips of the painted 
 Holy Mother^, the following sentence was 
 distinctly heard by every individual — 
 
 " The Sacrifice is unhallowed ! It 
 shall not be accepted !'* 
 
 Lavinia and Selina sank into the arms 
 of the attendant Sisters. 
 
 The Lady Abbess fainted. 
 
 Father Clement stood in adoration. 
 
 Father Overdon appeared as if stricken 
 with a thunderbolt. He laid his hand 
 upon the top of his head, and turned up 
 his eyes^ as though he apprehended an up- 
 lifted arm would instantly crush him to 
 atoms. 
 
 A hollow sound succeeded the volce^ 
 and in two seconds — 
 
 "Remember the Walls or Jericho^ and 
 MAKE clear the Temple \" thundered in 
 their ears ; upon which, fearing the walls 
 of the edifice would tumble upon their 
 
 heads^ 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 263 
 
 heads, both Laymen and Priests^ men, 
 >s^omen, and children, of all ages and 
 description, ran out of the Church as fast 
 as possible. The Inhabitants of the Con- 
 vent assembled in the area of the Castle, 
 ^vhere all was hurry and confusion for 
 some time. Lavinia and Selina Rosemont, 
 upon the order of Father Overdon, who 
 in his heart vowed ven2:eance ao^ainst 
 them, were committed to the guard of the 
 faithful Portress, Martha Hood, who, in a 
 few minutes, ran screaming to the direct- 
 ing Priest, and told him, that as she was 
 conducting the Sisters to their apartment, 
 with an intent to lodge them in security, 
 something, drest all in white, threw her 
 down; and seizing the Sisters by the arm, 
 drew them swift as lightning towards the 
 JsliLtli Tower ; and that before she could 
 get upon her feet, they were hidden from 
 her sight. 
 
 This was a new subject of alarm. For- 
 getful of the fearful circumstances they 
 had encountered upon their last visit, they 
 
 ran 
 
S64 THE NUNS OF THE DESfiRT. 
 
 tail in throngs to the mysterious walls, where 
 their wondering orbs of vision perceived 
 the door open; the first apartment not only 
 perfectly cleanj but strewn with flowers; 
 moreover^ the place was highly scented 
 with a rich perfume^ and they heard soft 
 notes of music gradually dying away, as 
 if from increasing distance. 
 
 Astonished, but not terrified, at these 
 pleasing phenomena, they continued their 
 search for the absent Sisters. The names 
 of Lavinia and Selina, echoed and re- 
 echoed through the building, but no 
 human voice answered to the call of either 
 authority or friendship. 
 
 At length it Wcis proposed that their 
 private apartment should be explored. 
 
 To their private apartments tliey pro- 
 ceeded, and found the door was locked; 
 they demanded admittance; demanded it 
 more loudly ; rapped, or rather thundered^ 
 against the wall; all equally in vain. 
 
 The door was then, by the imperious 
 order of Father Overdon> forced from 
 its hinges. 
 
 Na 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 265 
 
 No Sisters appeared; and what was an 
 additional cause of astonishment^ no ves- 
 tige of the room's having lately been 
 occupied, remained; their clothes, their 
 books, and every thing they could properly 
 call their own, were vanished ; which 
 spake their disappearance to have been 
 premeditated; but how could it have been 
 effected, and that so suddenly, was, from 
 every mouth, the wondering question; 
 and throughout the remainder of the day, 
 amazement so possessed the inhabitants 
 of the Convent, that nothing else could 
 gain any attention. 
 
 x\nd now consigning Father Overdon to 
 compounded chagrin — Father Clement to 
 Pious meditation — the Lady Abbess to 
 various conjectures — the Sisterhood to for- 
 mal devotion — the boarders and others to 
 marvellous and superstitious belief, we 
 will bid a joyous adieu to our Nuns in the 
 Desert, and enquire about some old ac- 
 quaintance, resj^ecting whose fate we wish 
 to excite our readers' attention. 
 
 VOL. I. N Shall 
 
^66 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Shall we, at this memorable epoch, stray 
 into the fields of contemplation, and ani- 
 madvert on the beauty of the ways of 
 Providence f 
 
 Or, leaving our perusers to draw their 
 own conclusions, proceed quietly with 
 the circumstances of our story ? Story ! 
 Story ! Story ! — methinks we hear from 
 one and all. 
 
 The Story then will, in the ensuing Chap- 
 ters, instantly proceed. 
 
 CHAP, 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 267 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 An aiigry Dialogue between Ferdinand Con- 
 
 ■ greve and his Guardian, — A Retrospect 
 
 of the Proceedings at Ivi/ Tower, -- 
 
 The Misses Sehvyns removed to 
 
 Lexton.—^Fanny constituted 
 
 Duenna. — i he Forgery 
 
 displayed. 
 
 vJ'UR business is, at this period, so mul- 
 tifarious, that we scarcely know to which 
 branch of it we shall give our first atten- 
 tion. Our young female readers are, we 
 presume, anxious about the Misses Rose- 
 monts ; our masculine friends, if any of 
 that superior sex should descend from 
 N ^ their 
 
Q6S Tr?E NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 their native majestic heights^ to trifle with 
 our pages^ for Horace and Ferdinand 
 Congreve. 
 
 But that we fear to wound the delicacy 
 of delicate young ladies^ we would reverse 
 the above conclusion^ by hazarding a sup- 
 position that the characters we have drawn 
 of the Brothers have excited in them some 
 interest in their destiny. 
 
 The Misses Selwyns^ we imagine^ are in 
 disgrace with our readers of every descrip- 
 tion^ on account of the letter which drove 
 Lavinia to absolute distraction. 
 
 Will they not allow that the command 
 of a father and mother ought to have some 
 weight with a dutiful daughter ? 
 
 ^ill they not excuse Sophia for wri- 
 ting what parents^ standing over her with 
 threats on one hand, and promises on the 
 other, jointly dictated ? 
 
 Will they not compassionate the neces- 
 sitVj rather than condemn the act, which 
 produced the deplorable effect upon the 
 friend of her heart ? — Certainly. 
 
 We 
 
 . J 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. ^69 
 
 We must inform our readers, that our 
 favourite Sophia Selwyn was threatened^ 
 by her Parents, with every punishment they 
 could inflict, if she persisted in a refusal 
 to copy the form they prescribed, as a 
 letter to Lavinia Rosemont. Yet refuse she 
 
 did, and that peremptorily, till . But 
 
 whither is this ungovernable pen leading- 
 vis ?— without our knowledge we were ad- 
 vancing to the middle of the circumstance, 
 before we had entered upon the beginning. 
 Let us then return to the breakfast parlour 
 at Ivy Tower, which we quitted in disgust, 
 at the close of our fifteenth Chapter. 
 
 After the dismission of Selina Rosemont, 
 Mr. Selwyn summoned Ferdinand Con- 
 greve to his presence ; that, as he said, he 
 might give him a full elucidation of the 
 circumstances of the preceding evening, 
 in the hearing of his Lady, his Son, and 
 his Daughters, that no improper construc- 
 tion might subsequently be put upon his 
 conduct, which he meant should be fair, 
 open, and honest. 
 
 N 3 Full 
 
■^70 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 Full of resentment^ Ferdinand hesitated 
 to obey the imperious m.andate; but con- 
 sidering that some eclaircissement must 
 necessarily take place some time or other, 
 he endeavoured to subdue the impetuosity 
 of his temper, and attend his unworthy 
 guardian. 
 
 An account of the debate between Mr. 
 Selwyn and Mr. Congreve, would be ex- 
 tremely unpleasant ; suffice it, that it ended 
 not only to the dissatisfaction, but the 
 chagrin of every assembled individual. Mr. 
 Congreve refused to make any concession 
 for the offending speech he had made to 
 his guardian ; or to acknowledge that he 
 thought his Brother's conduct reprehensible. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn was furious, and forbad his 
 longer stay in his family. 
 
 Mr. Congreve, just now upon the verge 
 of being of age, demanded a statement of 
 their affairs; after which, he said, he should 
 not desire to stay in his house one hour; 
 and he could answer for the same sentiments 
 in his Brother, 
 
 Selwyn 
 
THK NUNS OF THE DESERT. 27 1 
 
 Selwyn told him^ he believed the state- 
 ment would shew that he himself was 
 creditor to a considerable amount; but 
 that from an early affection to hi? deceased 
 Mother^ he did not intend to have made 
 many charges which justice authorised. 
 
 Mr. Congreve's reply was poignant^ and 
 reached Mr. Selwyn's heart. 
 
 William espoused the cause of his father, 
 and the young gentlemen retorted pi- 
 quantly upon each other. In virulence 
 and low abuse, Mrs, Selwyn exceeded 
 them all; and her looks spake more than 
 her language ; for while her words were 
 bitterness, her eyes darted daggers. 
 
 Emily was much distressed, and poor 
 Sophia still more wretched. The man and 
 the woman, whom of all others in the 
 world she best loved, were at war with 
 her Parents and her Brother; and thousrh 
 she had never been in the habit of re- 
 ceiving that tender treatment which draws 
 and strengthens the tie of Nature, still the 
 custom of sentiment^ and the constant 
 N 4 sense 
 
S72 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 sense of duty, which she had been sedu- 
 lous to cultivate^ occasioned a severe 
 contest between that habitual dutv and 
 her more voluntary affection for Ferdinand 
 Con^reve and Miss Roseinont. 
 
 Sophia and Emily were ordered up to 
 their apartments, during the height of the 
 dispute, by Mrs, Selwyn ; after which^ 
 Ferdinand agreed to leave Ivy Tower, on 
 condition of receiving a considerable sum 
 of money for the use of himself and his 
 Brother, during the time that the family 
 accounts should be properly drawn out 
 and adjusted by some able persons deputed 
 by both parties. Little at that moment 
 did the artful, the guileful, Selwyn believe 
 that one referee would totally confound 
 his system of politics, and overthrow his 
 long meditated plan of adding to the 
 aggrandisement of his own house, by the 
 destruction of that of the person- — a near 
 and confiding relation — who had entrusted, 
 to his honour and protection, her two 
 only children ! 
 
 Mr. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT 275 
 
 Mr. Congreve^ who calculated upon the 
 separation of himself and Sophia, and 
 that probably without any opportunity for 
 an eclair cissement, found means, at his en- 
 trance into the room, to slide into her hand,, 
 unobserved^ the few lines following : 
 
 " Your situation, my be- 
 loved Sophia, is to me truly distressing; 
 r know what your gentle heart must feel 
 at this perplexing crisis, therefore write 
 this hasty scroll, to tell you that our dear 
 Lavinia is, I trust, safe in the Convent^ 
 whither, I doubt net, you and Emily will 
 be sent immediately, as it is not known at 
 Ivy Tower, that Miss Rosemont is returned 
 to that asylum; otherwise I well know 
 you would not be permitted to go, lest 
 from her you should be told The Truth/' 
 
 ''It pains me, my Sophia, to say — be- 
 cause of the conclusion you must neces- 
 sarily draw from it in disfavour of your 
 Father, your Brother, and strange as it 
 N 5. may 
 
274 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 may be thought^ your Mother likewise-— 
 that Miss Rosemont and my Brother are 
 as perfectly innocent as our hearts can 
 wish ; and that every one of the three hefore 
 mentioned, know the verity of this assertionr 
 
 *^' What then^ most dear of women^ as 
 
 you are to me^ must be their shall I 
 
 write the word Guilt, and annex the idea 
 it must create to the Parents of my Sophia! 
 Hard necessity ! I must. 
 
 "Tell Emily, her friend Selina has escaped 
 what I suspect to have been a deep laid 
 snare; and tell her^ likewise, that I en- 
 treat her to fan the gentle fiame which, I 
 trust, is kindled in your breast, for 
 '' Your faithful 
 
 '^'^ Ferdinand Congreve.*' 
 
 '' Depend upon it, that I will either 
 write to you, or visit you in the Convent, 
 where, I doubt not, you and Emily will 
 immediately be sent, before the end of 
 three days, to inform you of other par- 
 ticulars/' 
 
 When 
 
TrHE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 275 
 
 When Sophia read to Emily the aljove, 
 both stood aghastj and for several minutes 
 not one word escaped the lips of either. 
 
 Sophia first gave a deep sigh; Emily- 
 then exclaimed, '^^ In the name of Heaven! 
 what can all this mean ! Let us hasten ta 
 the Desert as fast as possible/' '' With all 
 my heart/' returned Sophia; '''for I ara 
 impatient tosee Laviiia." ''And I, Selina/' 
 replied her Sister; '' but still more Horace 
 Congreve." Sophia bui'st into tears. 
 
 At that moment the door was opened^ 
 and Fanny, with either a real or an artificial ' 
 concern, informed th^ young ladies, that 
 she waited upon them by order of Mr, 
 Selwyn, to assist them in putting up their 
 clothes, in order for their immediate return 
 to the Convent; an order which, with 
 alacrity, j hey prepared to obey; and in 
 fifteen minutes, after a hasty farewell to 
 their Mother, they were seated in the coach 
 with their Father; Fanny attending them, 
 and their Brother going forward on horse- 
 back. As they proceeded at an extravagant 
 N 6 late. 
 
 I i-i^iif--i 
 
276 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 rate, the young ladies pleased them- 
 selves with believing that a short period 
 would unite them to their lovely and 
 ill-treated friends, little conjecturing that 
 every step of the horses carried them 
 farther, and still farther, from those 
 w^hom they so fervently and sincerely 
 loved. 
 
 After travelling, to their great astonish- 
 ment, some hours, in an unknown road^ 
 they stopped at a large inn, where William 
 Selwyn appeared to receive and conduct 
 them to a handsome room, into which 
 dinner was that instant carried, and an 
 order issued for the servants to dine at the 
 same time, as they had not^ it was said, one 
 moment to lose. 
 
 '' Where/^ — at \ength ventured to ask 
 Emily, who with her Sister hr^d hitherto 
 maintaiHed a, ^t'dect silence, — '' where. 
 Sir, are we to be carried ?" 
 
 '' JVhere I 'please/' — was the despotic 
 reply of the sullen Selwyn. 
 
 " Surely, my dear Sister, observed the 
 
 smQOth 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 277 
 
 smooth tongiied Wiiliamj '' you may rely 
 upon a father's prudence and affection !" 
 
 '^''Why ! Why :" now impatiently inter^ 
 rogated the distressed Sophia^ ^^why are 
 ue not permited to return to the Convent 
 in the Desert!'' 
 
 '^Because it is the opinion of your Mo- 
 ther and myself, that the Convent atLextoa 
 has superior advantages." 
 
 '' The Convent at Lexton ! Heavens!" 
 exclaimed Eniily^ '* are we to be sent to 
 Lexton — that most miserable habitation in 
 the kingdom !" 
 
 '' The confinement is more than at \\\q: 
 Desert Convent^ perhaps/' tauntingly said 
 William Selwyn ; but young ladies are 
 there professed without that formal and: 
 foolish preparation practised at the other; 
 and I think — do not you^ Sir ? — that all 
 the Monasteries in England ought to be 
 regulated by that of Lexton ?" 
 
 Certainly," replied Mr. Selwyn; audit 
 
 is my intention to prefer a petition for 
 
 that purpuse. Parents have there the 
 
 r?ght, which Nature gave them^ over the 
 
 3 destiny 
 
S78 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 destiny of their children, confirmed; and 
 so peculiar do they hold parental authc^ 
 rity^ that the rules enforce profession 
 of any young woman^ even against her 
 own consent, who has either a Father or 
 Mother to present her, and stand sponsar 
 for her vows/' 
 
 " And do you think. Sir, that either 
 Sophy or myself will take the veil ?" asked 
 Emily, with apparent indignation. 
 
 '^^'I do not thmk about it, child,'' said 
 the Father carelessly. '' Son, see if the 
 coach is in readiness." 
 
 In two minutes the coach was at the 
 door; and notwithstanding all remonstrance^, 
 the Sisters were seated as before, and driven 
 to Lexton wath velocity; six fresh horses 
 having been taken from the inn where they 
 llad dined William reached Lexton more 
 than an hour before tlie arrival of the 
 coach, and gave the stern Abbess her lesr- 
 son respecting his Sisters, who were 
 received with solemn dignity ; and soon 
 after their alighting, conducted to their 
 sleeping apartment. 
 
 The 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 279 
 
 The next morning they were summoned 
 to a parlour, in which were their Father^ 
 Brother^ and the Abbess; when vSophia 
 w^as ordered to write the form of that letter 
 which had caused the temporary distraction 
 of Lavinia Rosemont. 
 
 For some time she expostulated with 
 persuasive eloquence against the arbitrary 
 and unjust procedure; but her voice was 
 drowned in the loud and despotic com- 
 mands of the three — for William Selwyn 
 now threw off the m«isk of brotherly 
 kindness^ and assumed the governor. 
 
 Sophia at length peremptorily refused 
 to obey; declaring that no instrument of 
 torture should extort her consent to such 
 a crime — not only against friendship but 
 humanity. 
 
 The Abbess — a vastly tall and big boned 
 woman — now stood forth^ and threatened 
 her with the severest punishment which 
 his Holiness could inflict; but all in vain. 
 Sophia, openly applauded by her Sister, 
 was inflexible, and the consef][uence was, 
 
 her 
 
280 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 her being confined in a dungeon in the 
 Convent; and Emil)% on account of having 
 given her opinion in favour of her Sister, 
 led away to a remote part of the Monas- 
 tery^ and refused any but the most ordinary 
 food. 
 
 Fanny was now ordered into the room^ 
 with the trunks containing the apparel of 
 the ladies, and being told by William 
 Selwyn, (who^ by the bye^ had for some 
 time talked to this waiting gentlewoman 
 of love^ which he saw was received with 
 smiles and curtsies, though her lips spoke 
 a non-consenting language,) the situation 
 of the two young ladies, he asked her if 
 she thought she could prevail with Sophia 
 to write^ as his Father wished her to do, 
 to Miss Rosemont, 
 
 Fanny, who seemed to consider herself 
 of increased importance from this address, 
 replied, that it was always her opinion that 
 Miss Selwyn was extremely positive, not- 
 withstanding her apparent mildness of 
 temper, and she did not think any one 
 
 could: 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 281 
 
 colild prevail upon her to write the letter 
 required; she likewise added^ that she 
 feared the good Lady — meaning the Ab- 
 bess — would find it difficult to bring the 
 Sisters to be satisfied with the restraint 
 which^ it was probable^ she would think it 
 requisite to lay them under. 
 
 The Abbess^ who sat in a large armed 
 rhair, said, she perceived the young wo- 
 man was a very prudent body, and she 
 wished Mr. Selwyn would permit her con- 
 tinuance at Lexton till the ladies should 
 be professed ; as she might find it an 
 arduous task to manage them herself^ 
 and she could depend upon her, at least, 
 to acquaint her with their sentiments, and 
 to attend them in their airings in the 
 gardens. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn gave an assent; and William 
 applauded the motion; but Fanny v/ould 
 n6t, by any means, agree to be left behind. 
 She was sure her Lady would want her 
 assistance on many accounts: She could 
 notj indeed she would not^ undertake the 
 
 charge ; 
 
^S2 THE NUNS OF THE DESEHT. 
 
 charge; the young ladies would think 
 themselves very degrading!}' treated to be 
 put under her care ; and were any un- 
 ^wished event to happen, she never should 
 be forgiven ; and besides^ she had no 
 clothes with her; and indeed she could 
 not stay. 
 
 It did not require so much penetration 
 as William Selwyn possessed to understand 
 the expressive looks of Fanny on this oc- 
 casion ; she intended he should believe that 
 it was her unwillingiiess to be separated 
 from Mm which occasioned her reluctance 
 to stay at Lexton, and he did believe it; 
 w^hereupon, taking her aside, he used such 
 persuasive arguments for her stay, telling 
 her his Mother would supply her with 
 clothes; that he himself would write to 
 her, and even take a journey to Lexton 
 on her account, though the ostensible rea- 
 son would be to visit his Sister, as silenced 
 her objections, and she curtsied her obedi- 
 ence to his commands. 
 
 Mr. William was desirous to complete 
 
 his 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 283 
 
 his conquest over the submissive damsel — 
 ibr Fanny was a pretty girl — but he was 
 still more desirous to seal the destiny of 
 his Sisters^ that they might not live in the 
 world to clip the wings of his fortune ; 
 therefore led Fanny back to his Father 
 and the Abbess, telling them, that being 
 convinced the honour and welfare of the 
 family required the utmost circumspection 
 she had to relieve the good lady then 
 present, consented to remain at Lexton 
 till her superiors should remand her to Ivy 
 Tower; and he added that he would be 
 answerable for her fidelity. 
 
 The Abbess was now summoned from the 
 parlour, and William Selwyn was struck with 
 a thought that he instantly executed, which 
 was to imitate his Sister's hand, and write 
 in her name to Lavinia Rosemont. When 
 he had compleated his design, he rose 
 from his seat with exultation at his suc- 
 cess, and having shewn the performance 
 to his Father and Fanny, they declared it 
 was impossible to detect the forgery. The 
 
 letter 
 
284 -BflE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 letter was accordingly put into the Post 
 Office at Ivetsey; and had, as has been 
 shewn^ the desired effect. 
 
 CHAP. XXIL 
 
 Thi Befuml of Sophia and Emik/ to take the 
 
 VtiL-^A violent Commotion in the 
 
 Convent,-^ Fann^ faithful to 
 
 h^r Trust. 
 
 IVIR. Selwyn and his Son^ without bid- 
 ding adieu to the fair prisoners^ set off 
 early the next morning for Ivy Tower, 
 which they reached late in the evening, 
 and on the day ensuing, sent for an attor- 
 ney, who was Brother to their housekeeper, 
 
 aad' 
 
THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 885 
 
 and perfectly devoted to their interest, to 
 assist in confusing the accounts of the late 
 Mrs. Congreve, which they so cleverly 
 effected^ that the orphan twin, instead of 
 an estate of some thousands per annum, 
 and a considerable surplus of money, was 
 brought in debtor to the fatherly care and 
 kindness of Mr. Selwyn, several hundred 
 pounds for board and education. 
 
 At the Lexton Convent, every thing w^as 
 in perfect stillness. After the departure of 
 the gentlemen, Sophia and Emily were 
 summoned to attend the Abbess, who sat in 
 great state to receive the criminals, to whom 
 she gave information of the absolute power 
 which the delegation of their Father 
 lodged in her hands over their future 
 destiny; and that she had requested the 
 continuance of their Mother's waiting- 
 woman to relieve her, in safely guarding 
 them till the veil should secure them from 
 temptation. 
 
 '^You do not mean, Madam," said 
 Emily, with spirit, '^ that we are to be 
 
 under 
 
%S6 THE NUNS OF THE DESEKT. 
 
 under subjection to that girl^ whose intrigue 
 with my Brother — you must excuse my 
 speaking freely — renders her a very im- 
 proper governante for his Sisters/' 
 
 "Silence this moment !'* in an imperi- 
 ous tone commanded the haughty Abbess^ 
 '' nor dare to dispute one sentence of my 
 order. Frances, (speaking to the waiting 
 gentlewoman ) to your faithful care I com- 
 mit these degenerate Sisters; and at your 
 hands I shall require them in safety/' 
 
 Sophia leaned her head upon the shoul- 
 der of Emily, but spake not. 
 
 Fanny, curtseying to the Abbess, said 
 she was duly sensible of the honour of her 
 confidence, which she doubted her own 
 abilities to execute; but that she was de- 
 termined to be faithful to the trust that 
 had been reposed in her by those for 
 whom, ever since she knew them, she had 
 entertained the highest respect. 
 
 Nothing particular marked one day from 
 another, to those resident in the Lexton 
 Monastery, during the first week's abode 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. '2S7 
 
 of the Sisters in that Cloister, in which 
 spacC;, preparations for professing several 
 of those who had hitherto been boarders, 
 went on as rapidly as the nature of the 
 business would admit ; and the threat in use 
 to induce them to take the vow, was, that 
 upon their refusal to fulfil their own en- 
 gagements, or to comply with the decree 
 of their parents, they should instantly be 
 immured within four brick walls, and there 
 left to perish; which sentence had actually 
 been executed on three wretched indivi- 
 duals within the course of the preceding 
 five years. 
 
 In former ages, these severe laws in 
 Convents were much more frequent than 
 in those which succeeded. It was not in 
 the least uncommon for the most painful 
 punishments to be inflicted upon such as 
 by the superior Priests and the Lady Abbess 
 were pronounced criminals ; and that they 
 were dead and buried, was deemed a suffi- 
 cient answer to every enquirer. 
 
 Resolute in refusal to take the vow, 
 
 Sophia 
 
2S8 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Sophia and Emily Selwyn endeavoured 
 to resign to their destiny, and even ap- 
 peared with some degree of cheerfulness, 
 though the sedulous Fanny so well obeyed 
 the orders of the Abbess, that she never 
 permited them to be one moment by them- 
 selves, except when they were asleep; and 
 even then thev were locked into an inner 
 chamber, the passage to which ran through 
 the room occupied by their young Duenna, 
 who intimated to the Superior, that she 
 suspected the Sisters of having formed the 
 design to attempt an escape from the 
 Cloister. 
 
 For some time, the ordinary routine of 
 circumstances still rolled on undisturbed, 
 and the Abbess began to believe her young 
 pupils were charmed with the joys of a 
 Monastic life, but her fears were soon re- 
 alarmed by an information from Fanny of 
 the loss of the kev of the door which di- 
 vided her apartment from that of her young 
 ladies, and that she suspected them of 
 having secreted it with a purpose of 
 
 escap 
 
 ing 
 
THE NUNS OF tHE BESERT. 2SD 
 
 escaping in the night, as at the turn from 
 her chamber was a window, which might 
 easily be forced, and was not far from the 
 ground of the garden; whereupon the 
 Abbess immediately sent for an artificer to 
 go the next morning, it being too late to 
 effect her purpose that evening, and put 
 a fresh lock upon the door, and command- 
 ed Fanny to sleep that night with the key 
 of her own lock fastened round her wrist ; 
 which order she received with a curtsey 
 and thanks, as she said the escape of the 
 ladies would for ever ruin her interest 
 with the principals of a family, on which 
 she was encouraged to rest her hope of 
 prosperity. 
 
 Believing themselves to be perfectly sure 
 of completing their designs, the Lady 
 Abbess and the faithful Frances, securing 
 their young charges, retired to their re- 
 spective pillov7s at their usual hour, and 
 lay undisturbed, till the first received a 
 hearty shake of the elbow, and the other, 
 three hours after, was awakened by a loud 
 
 VOL. I. o rapping 
 
290 THE NUNS or THE DESERT. 
 
 rapping, and the shouts of a female voice, 
 which summoned every one who heard 
 them, to the door of Fanny's chamber^ 
 into which they, in vain, demanded ad- 
 mittance ; for in a voice that was not 
 distinctly articulate, she requested them 
 to force the lock, which, after many fruit- 
 less attempts, they at length effected, and 
 found the girl half dressed, tied to one of 
 the posts of the bed. A handkerchief had 
 been fastened over her mouth, from which 
 she had in part released herself, so as to be 
 able to make an indistinct shout; and the 
 rapping she made had been caused by the 
 heel of her shoe against the floor. 
 
 The consternation of the Abbess and Sis- 
 terhood, for several of the Monastics had 
 rushed to the apartment upon the alarm, 
 was beyond expression. For some moments 
 none of the wonderers had any power to 
 either act or speak; at length, however, 
 one of the Nuns attended to the repeated 
 intercession of the pinioned girl, and re- 
 leased her from confinement; after which, 
 
 she 
 
THE NUIS'!? OP THE DESERT. 29 1 
 
 she related^ to the silent audience^ the 
 following extraordinary particulars. — 
 That having been in bed, as she conjec- 
 tured^ near an hour, she found herself 
 in total darkness, the lamp being extin- 
 guished, and roughly treated by several 
 hands, some of which fastened a handker- 
 chief so tight over her mouth as almost 
 to prevent her breathing; that then Miss 
 Selwyn and Miss Emily, as she believed, 
 put over her a few clothes, and fastened 
 her, as the Sisterhood had found her^ to the 
 post of the bed; that the key was taken from 
 her, and probably to prevent the lock from 
 being turned by another, put into the door; 
 after w^hich her assailers — how many there 
 were she did not pretend t© say — went into 
 the other room, and shut the door after 
 them ; indeed she believed it was locked; 
 that she had not heard the least noise, only 
 ^vhat she herself had made, of some time; 
 yet she thought it utterly impossible that 
 the ladies could have got out at the win- 
 dow in their chamber, as it was not only 
 o 2 an 
 
292 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 an amazing height from the ground, but 
 was closely barred with iron. 
 
 One of the elder Sisters now advanced 
 to the door of the young ladies room, 
 and found it fastened ; the Abbess said it 
 must be barred within, for that the key 
 was lost. 
 
 "^ Secreted, probably, for the present 
 occasion,'' — observed one of the Sisterhood, 
 who was formerly a lady's maid, and had 
 retired to a Cloister through persuasion of 
 her master, to repent for the sins of her 
 mistress ; the observation was received as 
 a certainty, the door was forced; the win- 
 dow found open, and the ladies gonef 
 
 What confusion must have been created 
 in such a Convent by such a simple matter 
 of fact, as we have related ! Hurry — bustle 
 — jostling one against another — wringing 
 of hands — exclaiming — crying — scolding 
 — questioning — upbraiding — et .cetera, et 
 cetera, et cetera, filled the habitation of 
 the fair recluses. 
 
 At length the Lady Abbess closed the 
 
 scene 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. ^3 
 
 scene by a fainting fit; the care of the 
 Convent was now concentrated in her re- 
 covery, and till that was effected;, not one 
 thought was bestowed upon the peregri- 
 nating culprits, late the objects of univer- 
 sal solicitude. 
 
 The good Lady, after a period of due 
 decorum, again opened her eyes upon the 
 waiting Sifters — the closets and other 
 recesses were systematically explored — 
 and the wonder how it was possible the 
 novitiates could escape the confines of 
 their apartment, properly, by one and 
 all expressed. 
 
 '^ Mercy '" exclaimed a Sister, who 
 would have given all her hopes of Monas- 
 tic felicity to have been of the decamping 
 party — '"Mercy!" cried she, upon look- 
 ing from the window, "'if they have not 
 been so shameless, so abominably wicked, 
 as to squeeze through these iron bars ! See 
 here are two sheets tied the one to the 
 other, and a ladder at the bottom of the 
 wall ! Oh, what saciilege ! for they must 
 o 3 - have 
 
594 THE NUNS OF THS DESERT. 
 
 have had some assistant^, and I dare say it 
 was a man ! I shall never again endure to 
 set my feet upon that polluted green !" 
 
 All now ran to the window^ to take a 
 view of the unhallowed footsteps^ which 
 several of the Sisterhood fancied tliey could 
 trace upon the dewy lawn, by the oblique 
 beams of the moon — now making her 
 departing honours to our hemisphere^ gra- 
 ciously intending to favour some other 
 - part of the habitable globe— with as much 
 celerity as if that abjured and dreadful 
 animal, Man, had there presented himself 
 in propria persona. And now the vocal 
 concert recommenced: not one tongue in 
 the assem.bly was still; wonder echoed to 
 wonder, and each individual was pregnant 
 with amazement. 
 
 At length a command of silence issued 
 from the lips of the Lady Superior ; and a 
 consultation upon the proper mode of 
 proceeding was held by the elders, and 
 followed by a sally into the gardens, with 
 a view to discover the route of the vagrants; 
 
 but. 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 295 
 
 but, alas ! in vain were all the industrious 
 attempts of the busy Sisters ! trackless, as 
 the wing of a bird along the aerial plains, 
 were the footsteps of the fugitive fair ; nor 
 rnoon, nor lamps, nor rising day, gave the 
 least information to the inquisitive com- 
 munity. Those they sought were surely 
 _gone; but by what means none could even 
 conjecture; a search through the gardens 
 was in vain, and fruitless exploring of all 
 the adjacent country. Nothing remained 
 but to send an express to Ivy Tower. 
 
 Mr. Selwyn and his Son, William, an- 
 swered it in their ow^n persons ; whereupon 
 a scene ensued that would tire us to relate, 
 and our siibjects to peruse. 
 
 Suffice it, that no one appeared to have 
 been blanieable — that Fanny exonerated 
 the Abbess, and the Abbess absolved Fanny 
 ■ — and that the Father, the Son, and the 
 waiting-woman left Lexton, from whence 
 it was believed, by many, the Sisters had 
 been conveyed bv the power of witch- 
 craft, and reached Ivy Tower ^^ in doleful 
 o 4 dumps;*^ 
 
296 THE NUNS OF THE DESEKT. 
 
 dumps ;" the only consolation remaining 
 to the Father^ Mother^ and Brother^ was, 
 that Sophia and Emily must necessarily 
 be greatly distressed^ as they had neither 
 money nor protectors — a consideration 
 that in some measure relieved the disap- 
 pointment and vexation of the worthy 
 inhabitants of Ivy Tower. 
 
 CHAP, XXIIL 
 
 •^ Return to the Woodland Cottage. — A sthct 
 Company. — 'Jn old Friend with a nezo 
 Name. — The Confession of Donald 
 Veerman^ 
 
 
 JL O which point of our literary compass 
 shall we now turn the vane ? 
 
 To THE Cottage of the Witches in the 
 Woodlands. 
 
 And 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 297 
 
 And what company, of consequence suf- 
 ficent to interest our readers^ shall we 
 find in that secluded habitation ? 
 
 Firsts as eldest Sister^ and joint mistress 
 of the mansion, stands the Witch^, long 
 known in these pages by the name of Mar- 
 garet; next RachaeL celebrated as early, 
 though not hitherto so highly, as the other; 
 thirdly comes Anna. Who she was, and 
 what she was, when we are at leisure ; 
 fourthly, Vv^e bring to more distinct view a 
 new acquaintance, whom yet we have not 
 seen. 
 
 Once indeed, we nientioned a circum- 
 stance in which he was a principal actor; 
 but the scene was transient; it vanished, 
 meteor-like, as soon as it was presented, 
 and probably was no more remembered ; 
 though from that almost invisible stem, 
 sprang the story of our Nuns in the De- 
 sert, and Tke Woodland Witches. 
 
 The name of the personage last men- 
 tioned, was Donald Veerman. Are our 
 friends satisfied with this selection of 
 c 5 company ? 
 
298 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 company ? or do they wish to see a larger 
 assemblage ? 
 
 A larger assemblage is the desire of one 
 and all ; let us therefore ascend the stairs^ 
 and throw open the door of a pleasant little 
 apartment over the necromantic parlour^ 
 wherse, by the art of our Witches, were assem- 
 bled round a table covered with fruit, with 
 countenances expressive of peculiar hap- 
 piness — Lavinia and Selina Rosemont, 
 Sophia and Emily Selwyn^ with Horatio 
 and Ferdinand Congreve. 
 
 How this company of friends and lovers 
 w^ere transported to the Cottage of the 
 Witches of the Woodlands, is a circumstance 
 that remains to' be investigated; suffice it 
 that it was effected by art most profound 
 
 ^— by the aid of powers supernatural. 
 
 * * * * ^ ^ 
 
 Ferdinand. — '"Itpains me on your account^ 
 my dear Sophia, that these circumstances 
 cannot receive the elucidation which is 
 indispensably necessary, without an expo- 
 sure of people so nearly related to you 
 
 and 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 299 
 
 and Emily, as a Father, a Mother, and a 
 Brother." 
 
 SopMa. — ''^The necessity is indeed griev- 
 ous both to myself and my Sister; for 
 though we never received from either of 
 our parents, nor from our Brother, those 
 instances of tenderness which, doubtless^, 
 are the bond of natural affection, yet — I 
 must answer for Emily as for myself — the 
 obligation of duty remains, in our opinion, 
 uncancelled; and the love truly termed 
 filial, rises in opposition to the recollection 
 of the severity of their treatment, and to 
 the consideration of the drearv situation 
 to which they had doomed us to be confined 
 throughout oar future existence/' 
 
 EiTiilij. — '' Stop, Sophia, or answer 
 solely for yourself I wish to love my 
 Father, my Mother^ and my Brother; I 
 would not for the world injure them in the 
 smallest degree, to confer the highest be- 
 nefit to myself. But have I not been taught 
 to love Virtue ! How then can I reconcile? 
 ' — Oh ! my Sister! how can I lo\c those 
 o 6 whose 
 
300 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 whose conduct my principles condemn ? — 
 from wlios' rinciples my soul revolts!" 
 
 Lavinia. — " It becomes not me to speak 
 upon this subject, as it cannot be granted 
 that I am an impaitial judge; yet great as 
 is the injury done to me, and to every one 
 who is and ou^ht to be most dear to me, I 
 could forgive, and love tli^vn too, would 
 they but now sincerely repent of what is 
 past " 
 
 Emily. — ^' Oh! so could I, and wish 
 them ail with tears :n joy for their return 
 to rectitude ' but as it is — how can I truly 
 sa^. I give them my affection ?" 
 
 Horatio.— ''The iniuries we have all re- 
 ceived from the inhabiters of Ivy Tov/er^ 
 renders our cause a common one. Except 
 my ucar Lavinia, it ^vill be difficult to say 
 who has been most cruelly treated; for it 
 was their intention that even Selina shoukl 
 have been as wretched as loss o^ virtue, 
 disappointed affection, and exclusion from 
 society, could have rendered a human 
 being." 
 
 Sclina, — 
 
THE >n'ys or the desert. 30 1 
 
 Selfna. — '' Oh ! I can never enough be 
 thark^il to that Providence which saved 
 me tiom myself ! JVhere and ii'hat should 
 I have been, had I been left to tiie conse- 
 quence of my own credulous folly ! Hor- 
 rid, and now hateful, William Sclwvn ! 
 what incessant pains did he take to cftect 
 mv destruction ! and, from a recollection 
 of many circumstances, I am convinced 
 his conduct was known to his parents/' 
 Selina burst into a shower of Xf^i^r^, and 
 rested her head on the shoulder of Lavinia^ 
 who in consoling accents said^ '' Banish 
 your sorrov.'j mv dear girl ! and encourage 
 gratitude with hope; our days have been 
 dismal, but I think a brighter prospect is 
 opened to ourviev>'. My Selina will always 
 be dear to me, and if success shall be 
 given to our proceedings^ she shall rejoice 
 with me and my prosperity/' 
 
 By means o{ Emily, the conversation 
 now took a livelier turn. '' Selina," said 
 she, '^ vou and I v>'ill arace a sin2:le life; 
 
 happy as I trust my Sister wiil be vvith 
 
 Ferdinand 
 
SO^ THE KUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 Ferdinand Congreve, and blest as Lavinia 
 with Horatio; all observers shall necessarily 
 confess that the fair spinsters are more 
 enviable than the wives^ who, fettered by 
 the shackles of matrimony, must ask their 
 "husband's leave to know felicity ; we will 
 Jive together, my sweet little friend ! and 
 our visits to the married people shall 
 always be deemed a most peculiar favour^ 
 Your escape from the Convent in the De 
 sert, and mme from that still more horrible 
 Lexton, will ever be remembered with 
 thankfulness, and throw a comparative 
 brilliancy on our most solitary moments/*^ 
 
 ^'A good picture," said Horace Congreve^ 
 *' and so well drawn, that if those charming 
 blushes on the cheeks of Lavinia and Sophia 
 did not, by pointing my eye to a brighter 
 prospect, cast it in t'-:\e shade, I should, 
 suppose it could not be excelled. 
 
 '^ The picture to v/hich you nov/ allude,'* 
 — observed Ferdinand, " would eclipse 
 the lustre of any view lessbri2:ht than that 
 of a celestial Pareiuise, To tho happiness 
 
 of 
 
THE NUNS OV THE DESERT 305 
 
 of every one present^ may your prospects 
 speedily be realized." Every heart ui^ited 
 in the wish^, and either tacitly or verbally 
 expressed an assent. 
 
 After this conversation^ the young peo- 
 ple walked round the enclosures of the 
 Cottage;, where they were secure from all 
 unpleasant or unexpected interruption; 
 there being no visible approach to the 
 retirement;, but through the wicket which 
 we mentioned^ at the height of the acclivity 
 which fronted the house^ and could not 
 be opened without straightening the cord 
 that was fastened to a bell;, which;, upon 
 the slightest touch, gave notice to the 
 Cottagers of the approach of visitorsv 
 
 Advancing to the foot of the hill;, after 
 having walked till they v;ere tired, they 
 seated themselves on a broad green bank, 
 where they enjoyed a lovely evening, and 
 softened, as much as possible, the pain of 
 an approaching separation. '' Let us look 
 forward,'' said Ferdinand, '' and without 
 dwelling on the period immediately 
 5 ensuini^r 
 
304 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 ensuing, anticipate that which will^ I trust, 
 unite us to all we love/' 
 
 " Oh !" said Lavinia^ clasping her hands 
 together with the greatest ardency^, "" Oh ! 
 how I long to throw myself into the arms 
 of my parents! I already feel my Father's 
 embrace, and my Mother's tears ! Shall I 
 - — shall I indeed^ at last know the authors 
 of my being !!" 
 
 At that instant^ Mr. Veerman approached 
 v/ith a parcel of papers in his hand^ and 
 said^ '' My task is at length completed. 
 Justice Wilmot will be here to-morrow 
 morning, accompanied by Sir James May- 
 nard, to take my account upon oath, with 
 the attestation of such parts of the truth as 
 are known to them, of Mrs. Margaret 
 Mervin, Rachael Nelson, Martha^ Fanny, 
 and Anna Hood. You, therefore, my dear 
 young lady," — addressing Lavinia, — *^' are 
 no longer to be denominated Miss Rose- 
 raont; from this hour you must be distin- 
 guished amongst your friends, by your 
 lawful and rightful name of Aurora 
 
 BlaiJieim,'* 
 
 The 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 305 
 
 The speech of Mr. Veerman^ which ^ 
 unfolds the whole arcana of our business, 
 set the attentive party upon their feet; the 
 moment was critical, and with expression 
 in the countenance of each, which spoke 
 what language could not convey, they fol- 
 lowed the gentleman into the Cottage, 
 v/here Margaret — whom, in future, we 
 shall sometimes term Mrs. Mervin — and 
 Rachael, who has a right to the distinction 
 of Mrs. Nelson, were assembled in the 
 council chamber, attended by their niece, 
 Anna Hood, sister to the spouse-elect of 
 Mr. Veerman, who has been celebrated 
 under the simple appellation of Fanny, 
 and stationed in the honourable depart- 
 ment of femme cle cliambre to Mrs. Selwyn. 
 
 Every one was now eager to hear from 
 Mr. Veerman the contents of the papers, 
 whereupon they disposed themselves round 
 a table, and the person last named, v^^ith 
 a distinct and audible voice, read the fol- 
 lowing — 
 
 ■■ Mi l 
 
 " The 
 
^06 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 *"' The solemn confession of me^ Donald 
 Veermaii, late of the old high town of 
 Saxteadj now a resident in the habitation 
 known by the name of the Woodland Cot- 
 tage^ in the parish of Ivetsey; deposed 
 before the Right Vv-orshipful John James 
 Wilmot^ one of his Majesty's Justices of 
 the Peace^ for the hundred of CauldwelL" 
 
 ^'l, Donald Veerman, son of Benjamin 
 and Dorothy Veerman, of the parish of 
 J-avingham, aged thirty-four years and 
 three months, lived with my Father and 
 Mother till I had attained the ac^e of eigfh- 
 teen, when I was hired to wait on the lady 
 of Richard Selwyn, Esquire, then of Beech 
 Grove, now occupier of the mansion and 
 estate known by the title of Ivy Tower, 
 which is the right lawful property of Ro- 
 bert Blenheim., Esquire, and his wife, 
 Eliza, if they are still living, and in case 
 of their death, of their only child, Aurora 
 Blenheim, Vvho has been brought up by 
 order of the aforesaid Richard Selwyn, 
 and his wife" Beatrice, by the name of La- 
 \inia Rosemont. 
 
 '' After 
 
' THE NltNS OF THE DESERT. 307 
 
 '''After I had lived about half a year with 
 the aforesaid Mr. and Mrs. Sclwyn, at 
 Beech Grove ; the infant son of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Blenheim died of an iniiammation in 
 his lungs^ to the great grief of his Father 
 and Mother^, who had then only one sur- 
 viving child, which was a daughter named 
 Aurora, and who was indeed beauteous as 
 the morning. Upon the above mentioned 
 event, my master and mistress treated me 
 with peculiar kindness; flattering my 
 vanity, respecting my abilities, and persua- 
 ding me that I was by Nature endued to 
 move in a more elevated station ; and a 
 suggestion exactly calculated to gain ra^^ 
 credence, because in peculiar conformity 
 with my ow^n wishes, which were not bound- 
 ed by either my circumstances or my 
 situation : both beins: too servile for the 
 native ambition of my tem.per. 
 
 ^' My vanity thus raised by itiy superiors, 
 I was soon moulded to their wishes; which 
 w^ere, that I w^ould attempt to carry off 
 the little Miss Blenheim^ and hide her from 
 
 thQ 
 
308 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 the knowledge of her parents^ that in case 
 Mrs. Blenheim, who was not then in a 
 good state of health, should die, without 
 leaving any other child. Ivy Tower, and 
 its domains^ might devolve to Mrs. Selwyn. 
 '' Great were the promises, and large the 
 presents, given, to secure my assistance 
 to perfect this favorite plan of the posses- 
 sors of Beech Grove; and upon considering 
 that I should hold such power over Mr. 
 and Mrs. Selwyn, as could rot fail to pro- 
 cure me great advantages, and that I might 
 at any time reinstate the lawful heiress, I 
 consented to all they proposed; which was 
 to make love to a pretty little girl, of the 
 name of Betty Burton, who had been hired 
 to attend Miss Blenheim, to whom I pre- 
 sented a necklace, a silk handkerchief, and 
 several yards of ribband, which Mrs. Selv* yn 
 had given me for that purpose; and by fol- 
 lowing her into the garden, where she often 
 walked with the child, eiiect the meditated 
 design; accordingly, on the evening of 
 the fifth day, I strolled round the park of 
 
 Ivy 
 
THE NUNS GP THE DESERT. 300 
 
 Ivy Tower^ and soon saw the girl^ whom I 
 had taught to expect me there at that hour, 
 enter the garden with the innocent little 
 object of interested malevolence^ and 
 springing over a gate^ which opened into 
 the outer pleasure ground^ began to play 
 with the childj as Mr. and Mrs. Blenheim 
 came suddenly upon us. 
 
 ^'Ashamed to be so caught^ I endeavoured 
 to stammer an apology, but the gentleman 
 and lady, who certainly were of the best 
 order of human beings, smiled upon the 
 offence I had committed, and were enter- 
 tained to see me jumping the pleased child 
 upon a spring seat, which they stood a few 
 minutes to observe, and left us to our 
 diversion. 
 
 '' Soon after this, Betty, at my instigation, 
 tied Miss Blenheim at my back, and run- 
 ning after us in a mock race, I struck across 
 a little lawn toward a rapid river, which 
 after falling from one height to another, 
 united itself in a few minutes w^ith the 
 neighbouring ocean; and;, as if my foot 
 
 had 
 
310 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 had slipped^ screaming as I fell;, threw 
 myself into the stream, and being an ad~ 
 mirable swimmer, or I had not engaged in 
 this otherwise perilous undertaking, darted 
 across the water into a little covert of lime 
 trees and liburnams, while the terrified 
 maid, as w^e were subsequently informed^ 
 instead of going instantly for assistance 
 from the house, ran shrieking 'up and 
 down the bank, wTinging her hands in 
 mad despair, till she was heard and seen by 
 one of the gardeners; after which, every 
 endeavour was vainly used for the reco- 
 very of myself and Miss Blenheim, whom 
 I had by this time conveyed through the 
 wood, to a chaise in waiting, of w^hich, 
 Mr. Selwyn himself, in a disguise, ( under 
 which not the most intimate companion 
 could have recognised the gentleman) was 
 the Jehu-like driver." 
 
 As Mr. Veerman read the last line, the 
 bell at the wicket was heard to ring, and 
 
 instantly 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 311 
 
 instantly a large party of people were seen 
 at the summit of the acclivity; whereupon 
 Mrs. Mervin commanded her visitors to be 
 invisible^ and in three minutes, had all the 
 officers of all the Justices in Britain search- 
 ed the house, thev would not have seen 
 any human being save herself, her Sister 
 Rachael, and the laughing Anna, who was 
 always pleased with the arrival of strangers. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
ol2 THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 J[ gnj/ Yotwg Party visit the Cottage* 
 
 /\S soon as Margaret had charmed her 
 guests into invisibility, she attired herself 
 in her magical robes_, and with the assistance 
 of Rachael^ set every thing in order to 
 receive the party^ which Anna was now 
 conducting by the little winding path down 
 the hill; as they approached the door of 
 the Cottage, Rachael went out to meet them, 
 and conducted them in silence through the 
 hall into the necromaiitic apartment, where 
 Alaraaret sat with the Parrot on one side, 
 
 and 
 
Tttfi NUNS GPtHE DESERT. SIS 
 
 and the Ape^ befoi'e celebrated, on the 
 other. The Parrot was on the outside of 
 his cage; the Ape seated in a little armed 
 chair. 
 
 Margaret was leaning over a book which 
 she seemed to study very intently, and with- 
 out lifting up her head, said, in a solemn 
 tone, " All Hail/* 
 
 The company consisted of six sprightly 
 girls, genteelly habited, three officers, a 
 young clergyman, and two young men of 
 fortune. 
 
 Rachael seated them on little stools on 
 each side of the room, and desired them 
 not to move from their places till her Sister 
 had completed her studies. She then went 
 out, and a silence ensued, till Margaret 
 turned to the Ape, and said, '' Hindo, have 
 you seen the wind this morning }" 
 Ape.-^'' I have." 
 
 Margaret, — ^'How did it appear?*' 
 Ape. — ^' Blue, checked with scarlet, and 
 spotted with black.'' 
 
 Margaret. — '' What did it betoken }" 
 Ape. — '' The approach of fine ladies with 
 VOL. I, p their 
 
3l4r THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 
 
 their lovers^ from the army, the church, 
 and from " 
 
 Margaret. — '' Silence." 
 
 Mrs. Mervin then, as we have engaged 
 sometimes to denominate her, turned to 
 the Parrot, and said, "Zotto, how many 
 spirits do you perceive in this room ?'* 
 
 Parrot (after a few minutes silence) 
 —'' Fifteen.*' 
 
 Margaret. — " Are they good or evil }" 
 
 Parrot. — *' They are mixed — blue spi- 
 rits and white; black spirits and grey; but, 
 let me tell you. Mistress, there is one 
 in company whose mind " 
 
 Margaret. — '' Hush ! Hush ! speak only 
 to what you are asked. Call Brimo." 
 
 Parrot. — " Brimo ! Brimo ! Brimo!'' 
 
 The door Opened. Brimo, the grizzled 
 Mastiff before described, made his appear- 
 ance, but did not advance into the room, 
 upon which Margaret asked if the hour 
 was come." 
 
 Brimo. — " Follow me.*'^ 
 
 Margaret. — '' To what purpose." 
 
 Brimo, — ^' Follow me." 
 
 Margaret. 
 
THl NUNS OF THE DESERT. Si 5 
 
 jMargaret. — ** Do you not see I am en- 
 gaged ?'' 
 
 Brimo.—'' Follow me/' 
 
 Upon this repetition of the mandate, 
 the Witch arose^ and ringing a bell> which 
 was answered by Anna^ ordered the Ape 
 and the Parrot out of the room. She 
 then made an apology to the company for 
 leaving them a few minutes, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour she re- 
 turned, and the necromantic instruments 
 being properly arranged^ predicted to the 
 company with such a relation to their cir- 
 cumstances, as filled every one who heard 
 her v/ith the utmost astonishment. 
 
 ** You have professed a resolution. Ma- 
 dam/' said she to one of the ladies, "never 
 to be married^ though the design of living 
 in celibacy is far from your heart/' 
 
 *' Nay, now, my dear Mrs. Witch," re- 
 plied Miss, " you are totally out in your 
 politics ; for I think it the sweetest thing 
 in the world, and it is so delicate too, ta 
 die an old maid." 
 
 p 2 Margaret. 
 
316 THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 
 
 Margaret,—'' Shall I tell the dream,. 
 Madam, that you had last night, after it was 
 settled that you were to come to me this 
 .evening }" 
 
 Miss. — ''Oh ! no, no ! not for the world! 
 not that I care neither ; for what are dreams! 
 No one can help dreaming, you know/' 
 
 Margaret. — " Dreams are often — not 
 always — a repetition of our waking con- 
 templations. Fatima ! " 
 
 Fathna, (from zdthin.J — '^^ Coming, Mis- 
 tress, as soon as the nuptial star appears." 
 
 The company started; the sound of 
 music was heard; one of the little doors 
 flew open, and Fatima tripped into the 
 room." 
 
 Margaret. — " Which of these young 
 ladies, Fatima, intends to live single?'' 
 
 Fatima. — " Not one ! — And one is al- 
 ready married!" 
 
 JWargaret. — ^^Do you judge by the ring 
 upon her fourth finger?'' 
 
 Fatima. — ''No; that lady only wishes to [ 
 be married. The ring belongs to the lady , 
 in blue.'* 
 
 " Good ? 
 
THE NUNS OP THE DESERT. 31T 
 
 *' Good Heavens !'* exclaimed several 
 of the fair auditors at once, " how do you 
 know that?*' 
 
 Fatima, f singing in a small voice to disi^ 
 taut music.) — 
 
 By rhe fresh'im^ on the green ;; 
 
 Bjr the spirits never seen ; 
 
 By the b!ue-bell»; by the dew ^ 
 
 By an ait that's ever true ;. 
 
 By the kiss of chastest love ;, 
 
 By the cooing of the dove ; 
 
 By your blushes ; by your eyes ;: 
 
 By the gilded butterflies ; 
 
 By the swan's down, soft and white ;• 
 
 We bring smothered Truth to light,. 
 
 Margaret, — ''^One more question^ Fa- 
 lima, and I will dismiss you from farther 
 service upon this occasion-. Which is the 
 young lady who says she never means ta 
 be married ?" 
 
 Fatima. — '' The lady in that pretty pink 
 dress, who turns an eye upon that gentle- 
 man by the window, who stands observing 
 
 p 3 her 
 
Sis THE NUNS OF THE DESERT, 
 
 her with attention^ and with whom she 
 
 intends- '' 
 
 JVliss, C interrupting.) — Oh ! you little 
 thing ! don't talk any more to me; upon 
 my word^ Mistress Witch^ this is really too 
 bad." 
 
 A voice^ as from the other end of the 
 room^ saying, "Are you ready?" drew 
 their attention to the window, but not 
 perceiving any thing, they again turned to 
 the spot where the little lady stood, and 
 w^ere again disappointed; for Fatima w^as 
 no longer visible. 
 
 " The little gentlewoman is vanished," ' 
 said the lady who resolved never to be 
 married; "" she v/ent off in a canter, surely," 
 "Gone !" said the same voice, from the 
 spot on which they had seen Fatima, "Gone! 
 where ? have you. Miss Perkins, lost the 
 use of your eyes ?" 
 
 "Miss Perkins !" repeated the lady, "my 
 &tars ! she knows us all ! I declare I will 
 not stay one moment longer in this wicked 
 house, for I now verily believe it to be 
 full of evil spirits!" 
 
 6 "Pho! j 
 
THE NUNS OF THE DESERT. 319- 
 
 '•'Pho ! pho ! Kitty ! what signify spirits ! 
 to be sure there must be some, or how should 
 we have our fortunes trulv told- !" said a lady 
 ■who was very anxious to know her destiny^ 
 whether the intellisrence came from above 
 or below; whereupon Margaret proceeded 
 to business w^ith expedition^ and gave pe- 
 culiar satisfaction to the gay enquirers; 
 some of whom chose a written^ while others 
 were satisfied w^ith a verbal^ account of the 
 events by which their future days were to 
 be distinguished. 
 
 The predictions concluded, the servants 
 waiting in the other apartment weie sum- 
 monedj and the bevy departed ; after which 
 the invisible friends re-appeared^ and the 
 reading re-commenced ; as will be seen in 
 the next volume. 
 
 END OF VOL, I, 
 
 LANE, MINERVA-PnESS, I>E A DFNiMLL-STR&lT, 
 
LEjiDENH ALL-STREET. 
 
 NEW W O » K S^ 
 
 PUBLISHED THIS YEAR^ 
 
 BY LANE, J^EWMAN, § CO, 
 
 1. CASTLE OF SANTA FE, 
 4 vols. ]8s. fewed. 
 
 2. TIMES PAST; 
 
 A ROMANTIC MELANGE. 
 
 3 vols. 12s. ditto. 
 
 S. THE V/ONDER OF THE VILLAGE^ 
 
 3 vols. 12s. ditto. 
 By Mrs. Me eke. 
 
 4. FIESCO, COUNT OF LAVAGNE, 
 
 AN HISTORICAL NOVEL, 
 
 4 vols. 14s, ditto* 
 
5. WALSINGHAM, 2nd. edit, 
 
 4 vols. 18s. fewed. 
 
 By Mrs. Robinson, 
 
 6. USURPATION; A ROMANCE, 
 3 vols. 12s. ditto. 
 By Mr. Lathy. 
 
 7. DONALD A 5 
 OR WITCHES OF GLENSHEILL, 
 
 2 vols. Qs. ditto. 
 
 8. VILLA NOVA ; 
 
 OR THE RUINED CASTLE. 
 
 2 vols. 7s. ditta. 
 
 o. RIVAL CHIEFS; 
 
 OR THE BATTLE OF MERE. 
 
 I vol. 3s» 6d, ditto. 
 
 10. GERMAN LETTERS. 
 
 1 vol. 3s. ditto* 
 
 By Catherine Seldon* 
 
 11. SECRET OF THE CAVERN^ 
 2 vols. 8s. ditto. 
 By Mrs. Burke. 
 
12, THE NUN AND HER DAUGHTER, 
 4 vols, 18s. fcwed. 
 
 13. THE BANKS OF THE DOURO, 
 
 OR THE MAID OF PORTUGAL, 
 
 3 vols. 13s. 6d. ditto. 
 
 By Emily Clarice. 
 
 14- THE HOMICIDE; 
 
 2 vols. 9s. ditto. 
 
 By the Author of The Wife and Mistress. 
 
 15. CHILDREN OF THE ABBEY, oth edit, 
 4 Vols. 14S. ditto. 
 By M. R. Roche. 
 
 16. THE TWO PILGRIMS 5 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 2 vols, 7s. ditto. 
 
 17. JUVENILE INDISCRETIONS, <2nd. edit, 
 5 vols. 17s. 6d. ditto. 
 By Mrs. Bennett. 
 
IJ^ THE PMESS. 
 
 DOMESTIC SCENES, from the German, 
 3 vols. 
 
 ELLEN, COUNTESS OF CASTLE HOW* 
 ELL, by A4rs. Bennett, 2ncl. edit. 4 vols. 
 
 GLENMORE ABBEY, by the Author of Ariel, 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 HERMANN AND EMILIA, by La Fontaine, 
 
 4 vols. 
 
 HEIRS OF VILLEROY, by Henrietta Rou- 
 viere, 3 vols. 
 
 LEBRUN'S NOVELS AND ROMANCES, 
 
 2 vols. 
 
 THE PARACLETE, by Mr. Lathy, 4 vols. 
 THE IDIOT HEIRESS, 2 vols. 
 
 q'HE YOUNG FATHER, by W. F. Williams, 
 
 3 vols. 
 
 VICISSITUDES, OR THE GHOST OF 
 MY FATHER, by Mrs. Bennett, Author 
 of the Beggar Girl, &c. &c. 4 vols. 
 
 'THE SECRET, by Francis Lathom, 2 vols. 
 
 RASHLEIGH ABBEY, OR THE RUIN 
 ON THE ROCK, by R. Sickeimore, 
 
 5 vols. 
 
 THE ERROR OF A NIGHT, OR EUGENE 
 AND EUGENIA, 3 volss 
 
 HYPOLITUS, OR THE WILD BOY, 
 
 3 vols. 
 
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