"That you have not always thought yourself happy is evident," said I; "you bear the marks of heavy sufferings."--"True; but my mind is tranquil now, though it has been long in finding repose."--"Since it is so, then, let us try to cure the past; but can I hope for success when I know not the disease?"--"Alas! must I own my folly?" cried she, her eyes filling with tears. "You are not happy!" exclaimed I. "I am," replied she, gathering more firmness; nor would I change my present happiness for the state I once envied. I have no secret; my misfortune is the history of my whole life. My sufferings were so continual until I entered this abode that they have gradually undermined, my health. With joy did I feel myself wasting away, for I had no prospect of happiness in life. This guilty joy has been punished, for now that I desire to live, I have scarcely a hope of it left." I soothed her apprehensions with the promise of speedy recovery; but whilst uttering the consolatory words a sad presentiment came over me, warning me that Death had marked its victim. * * * * * I continued to attend the young Nun, and she appeared not insensible to the interest I took in her fate. One day she returned of her own accord to the subject I longed to be enlightened upon. "My sorrow," said she, "would appear of so strange a nature, that I have always felt reluctant to confide it. No one can be a perfect judge of the feelings of another, and our confidants soon become accusers."--"Fear not," cried I, "can I doubt the reality of your grief, when I behold its effects upon your person?"--"Ah! real it has been, but not the less unreasonable."--"Let us even suppose it so. Does that prevent sympathy?"--"I have feared so; but if to cure the effect of my sorrows it is necessary you should know their cause, some time hence, when we are a little better acquainted, I will confide it to you." * * * * * I renewed my visits still oftener at the convent, and the remedies I prescribed appeared to do my patient some good. In short, one morning, finding her seated alone in the same bower where I had first seen her, I renewed the subject, and she related to me the following history. OURIKA.