“We therefore carefully excluded day-light from her chamber, and left her to repose. While she slept, we resolved to take the opportunity of making Luprian explain a business, which we conceived to be of some importance, and respecting which our curiosity was raised to the highest pitch by hearing some of the Monks assert their persuasion, that Luprian’s features were not unknown to them. The last Abbot of Curwald, who was supposed to have perished in the conflagration, had borne that name, and in spite of his pale countenance and meagre form they verily believed my prisoner to be no other. We were now all impatience to ascertain this point; but we found, that in order to effect our object we ought to have been more upon our guard. Occupied by the melancholy situation of the lady, which excited universal interest and compassion, not one of us had paid the least attention to her gaoler: now that we recollected him, he was not to be found. It appeared probable, that he had forsaken us immediately upon our entrance into the subterraneous dungeon, since no one remembered to have seen him since that time, nor indeed to have bestowed a thought upon him. We had now nothing left for it but to rail at our inattention, and to lay the blame upon each other. However, we did not think our loss of any material consequence, since we doubted not the lady’s ability to clear up the mystery; and at all events the captive was at liberty, and we had effected a good deed. “She awoke, greatly strengthened by her refreshing slumber: her first request was to be removed from the society of men, and committed to the charge of persons of her own sex. We had already agreed with a respectable widow in one of the neighbouring villages, that the invalid should be taken to her house, as soon as she was able to bear the removal. The good woman soon made her appearance, and the stranger’s impatience to quit the Monastery was so extreme, that we judged her likely to suffer less detriment from the journey than from delay. The distance was not great; she was placed in an easy litter; and her nurse took such good care of her both during her removal and afterwards, that she was quickly pronounced out of all danger. Her eyes again became accustomed to day-light; her hearing was no longer hurt by the loudness of human voices, and she could speak without difficulty: yet has she never thought proper to disclose her name either to myself, or to the Abbot who visited her daily.—But let it still remain concealed; there is at least _one_ title, which after hearing the brief relation of her sufferings I know well to be her proper right; the title of the purest and most heroic of virtuous martyrs, a name which deserves to be engraved on marble, and employed to add sanctity to altars!