"Rashleigh is one who would fain have every one like him for his own sake.--He is Sir Hildebrand's youngest son--about your own age, but not so--not well looking, in short. But nature has given him a mouthful of common sense, and the priest has added a bushelful of learning--he is what we call a very clever man in this country, where clever men are scarce. Bred to the church, but in no hurry to take orders." "To the Catholic Church?" "The Catholic Church! what Church else?" said the young lady. "But I forgot, they told me you are a heretic. Is that true, Mr Osbaldistone?" "I must not deny the charge." "And yet you have been abroad, and in Catholic countries?" "For nearly four years." "You have seen convents?" "Often; but I have not seen much in them which recommended the Catholic religion." "Are not the inhabitants happy?" "Some are unquestionably so, whom either a profound sense of devotion, or an experience of the {102} persecution and misfortunes of the world, or a natural apathy of temper, has led into retirement. Those who have adopted a life of seclusion from sudden and overstrained enthusiasm, or in hasty resentment of some disappointment or mortification, are very miserable. The quickness of sensation soon returns, and, like the wilder animals in a menagerie, they are restless under confinement, while others muse or fatten in cells of no larger dimensions than theirs." "And what," continued Miss Vernon, "becomes of those victims who are condemned to a convent by the will of others? what do they resemble? especially, what do they resemble, if they are born to enjoy life, and feel its blessings?" "They are like imprisoned singing-birds," replied I, "condemned to wear out their lives in confinement, which they try to beguile by the exercise of accomplishments, which would have adorned society, had they been left at large."