"And don't you know," exclaimed Frances, stamping her foot in her passion, "that the act you have been guilty of is so vile, that, but recently, one committing it was deemed worthy of a felon's death upon the scaffold? That degradation so utter can have been committed by my father's child!" "This storm of passion and violence is very bad," deplored Miss Louisia Hildyard, crossing her hands upon her chest. "May the Virgin bring your mind to habitual meekness!" "May the Virgin bring you to a sense of the shameful act you have stooped to, and keep you out of my apartments for the future!" retorted the exasperated girl, who, in truth to say, was looked upon as little better than a heathen, in religious matters, by her pious sisters. Miss Louisa took a small ivory crucifix from her bosom, kissed it, and crossed herself, while ejaculating audible aspirations for patience. "Retire from my presence," resumed Frances, haughtily, "and return to my maid, whom I will send after you, the letter you have robbed me of." "It is no longer in my possession," sighed Miss Louisa, coolly taking a seat as if in open defiance of her sister's imperious command. "I am in the habit of consulting Sister Mildred, my dear old preceptress at the convent, upon all points, and I submitted Lord Winchester's communication to her by last night's post, requesting her advice as to what course we ought to pursue with you upon this deplorable matter." Frances turned quite wild. "You eavesdropper--you impersonation of all jealousy--- how dared you do so? This is worse and worse! Consult the nuns about yourselves and your own concerns; go and live with them and stop with them if you like; but who gave you right or power over mine? "The right and the power that one soul has to concern itself for the well-being of another. Had Viscount Winchester--" "Had Viscount Winchester come with his coronet in hand, and laid it at _your_ feet," interrupted Frances, vehemently, "you would have grasped at the offer--unsuitable to him as you would be in years. We should have had no saintly appeals to the convent then." Miss Louisa gave a faint scream, and nearly fainted. To do her justice, it was not so much her sister's ill-judged words that affected her--not even the irreverent allusion to her age--as the coupling her holy and catholic person, though only in idea, in union with one who was a sworn enemy to the true faith. "Oh, that you had been reared among our pious sisterhood!" she aspirated, looking on Frances with compassion, "you would then know the terrible sin you have been guilty of in encouraging the addresses of this lost man." "I wish the pious sisterhood had been in the sea before they had taught you these disgraceful tricks," retorted the young lady. "Why don't you attend to your priests, and your visitings, and your week-day masses, and your holy robes, and leave rational people to pursue their way unmolested?"