Methinks, Amabel, it seems to me now more difficult to resolve on entering a Convent. Heaven knows, I wished not, that Helen should be so unfortunate as to become my father’s wife; I spared no pains to rescue her from this impending danger; yet if in spite of my efforts she should be compelled to become the Countess of Carlsheim and Sargans, might not that event produce the most desirable consequences? might not her virtue and charms work a blessed change in Donat’s nature? might I not in her society and under her protection again look forward with pleasure to living in that world, which had once such charms for me, but which of late I have considered as an object of such disgust? oh! what blessed effects might the presence of such a mistress produce throughout the domains of Sargans! _In Continuation._ Where shall I look for help! how shall I find some means of changing my father’s determination respecting me? This Convent.... Oh! Amabel, call me not capricious, for I have now good reasons to dread and shun that Convent. I have been warned, warned by some supernatural being, not to take the step prescribed to me by my father: and shall I be disobedient to the voice of Heaven?——Hear, what has happened to me! I went this morning to walk with my usual guards for a few minutes on the battlements. I left my chamber-door locked. Yet on my return I found a slip of parchment fastened on my tapestry frame, containing these words: —“Fly from Sargans! destruction awaits you at the Convent.”— I had scarcely time to conceal this writing, (whose import, while I read it, had made my blood run cold) before the Abbot of Cloister-Curwald entered the room: I have already mentioned, that he pays me a daily visit. The impression made upon my mind by what I had just read, for some time prevented me from attending to his conversation: I believed, that in this late occurrence I had received a confirmation of that delightful idea, that there exist guardian Angels, who at times condescend to snatch poor mortals from destruction; and my heart, already half estranged from the Convent by the hopes which I grounded on the exertions of my amiable step-mother, began to search for additional reasons, why I should decline taking the veil, once so much the object of my desires. On a sudden something which fell from the Abbot in discourse, caught my attention; and I now first discovered, that the conversation which he had been addressing to me, agreed entirely with the warning of my guardian Angel. I drew back in astonishment! its true, he had before frequently exprest his disapprobation of the Convent; but he now spoke with more energy than ever, and advanced such strong arguments, as could only have failed of their effect, because advanced by _him_.