When I returned home I found my father as gloomy and austere as ever. He welcomed me with a cold kiss and asked me a few questions as to the progress I had made in my studies. My replies did not appear to satisfy him and I had not been home a week before he declared his intention to send me to school again. I was by no means sorry to hear of this resolve, for my brother was finishing his education in New York, and the house was insufferably dull. I was at once dispatched to Mount de Sales, a convent near Baltimore. The inmates of the convent consisted of pupils and nuns--the latter acting as instructresses to the former, assisted by two or three priests. I had been in the convent a year when we received a new pupil named Margaret Maitland, the daughter of a distinguished lawyer, residing in Baltimore. Margaret was a beautiful girl about my own age. She was rather tall, her eyes and hair were black, while her skin was of a whiteness ravishing to behold. She was exceedingly religious and spent a great portion of her time in prayer, fasting and vigils. I noticed that she confessed to a Father Clark very frequently and always appeared very happy and contented when she left the confessional. I felt satisfied that there was something going on which partook more of the flesh than the spirit, and I determined to watch. Father Clark's apartment was situated at the eastern extremity of the convent. It contained a large closet, and one day I concealed myself in it at the time I knew his penitent would visit him. I had been there but a few minutes before the priest entered. He was about forty years of age, stoutly built and rather handsome. He did not wait long before Margaret made her appearance. She looked positively beautiful. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed, and her bosom rose and fell, showing that she was laboring under some excitement. To my extreme surprise, the moment she entered the room she ran up to Father Clark, and throwing her white arms round his neck kissed him passionately on the lips. He returned her embraces and drew her on his knee. This sight was entirely novel to me, and my cheeks burned while my eyes almost started from their sockets watching what would be their next proceeding. I had not long to wait, for I saw the priest's officious fingers unbutton Margaret's dress in front and deliberately pull it off her ivory shoulders, thus exposing two globes of snow, round, firm, exquisitely formed, and surmounted by two strawberry nipples, which stood out stiff. He pressed and kissed her breasts, absolutely burying his manly face between the soft cushions. He was, however, soon not satisfied with this, but canting her slightly up in his lap, he put his hand up her clothes, and invaded the most secret recesses of her body. This action raised her petticoats in such a manner that it exposed, to my gaze, one of her ivory thighs, which was large, well developed and beautifully rounded.