During this interview, Jerome’s mind was agitated by a thousand contrary passions. He trembled for the life of his son, and his first thought was to persuade Isabella to return to the castle. Yet he was scarce less alarmed at the thought of her union with Manfred. He dreaded Hippolita’s unbounded submission to the will of her lord; and though he did not doubt but he could alarm her piety not to consent to a divorce, if he could get access to her, yet, should Manfred discover that the obstruction came from him, it might be equally fatal to Theodore. He was impatient to know whence came the herald, who, with so little management, had questioned the title of Manfred; yet he did not dare absent himself from the convent, lest Isabella should leave it, and her flight be imputed to him. He returned disconsolately to the monastery, uncertain on what conduct to resolve. A monk, who met him in the porch, and observed his melancholy air, said, “Alas! brother, is it then true that we have lost our excellent Princess Hippolita?” The holy man started, and cried, “What meanest thou, brother? I came this instant from the castle, and left her in perfect health.” “Martelli,” replied the other friar, “passed by the convent but a quarter of an hour ago, on his way from the castle, and reported that her highness was dead. All our brethren are gone to the chapel to pray for her happy transit to a better life, and willed me to wait thy arrival. They know thy holy attachment to that good lady, and are anxious for the affliction it will cause thee--indeed we have all reason to weep; she was a mother to our house. But this life is but a pilgrimage; we must not murmur--we shall all follow her: may our end be like hers!” “Good brother, thou dreamest,” said Jerome; “I tell thee I come from the castle, and left the princess well:--where is the Lady Isabella?” “Poor gentlewoman,” replied the friar, “I told her the sad news, and offered her spiritual comfort; I reminded her of the transitory condition of mortality, and advised her to take the veil: I quoted the example of the holy Princess Sanchia of Arragon.” “Thy zeal was laudable,” said Jerome, impatiently; “but at present it was unnecessary. Hippolita is well--at least I trust in the Lord she is; I heard nothing to the contrary--yet methinks, the prince’s earnestness--well, brother, but where is the Lady Isabella?” “I know not,” said the friar: “she wept much, and said she would retire to her chamber.”