"Never mind explaining the distinction. You are going to be a nun, you say! Very well--let that pass, too! But you must leave your convent, and go into the world yet once more, and then I shall have opportunities of talking to you before your return." "No, no; never will I leave my convent--never will I subject my soul to such a temptation." "My dear Lina, I have the cabalistic words that must draw you forth--listen! Our cousin, Thurston Willcoxen, is in prison, charged with the murder of Marian Mayfield"--a stifled shriek from Jacquelina--"and there is circumstantial evidence against him strong enough to ruin him forever, if it does not cost him his life. Now, Lina, I cannot be wrong in supposing that you know who struck that death-blow, and that your evidence can thoroughly exonerate Thurston from suspicion! Am I right?" "Yes! yes! you are right," exclaimed Jacquelina, in great agitation. "You will go, then?" "Yes! yes." "When?" "In an hour--this moment--with you." "With me?" "Yes! I may do so in such a case. I must do so! Oh! Heaven knows, I have occasioned sin enough, without causing more against poor Thurston!" "You will get ready, then, immediately, dear Lina. Are you sure there will be no opposition?" "Certainly not. Why, Cloudy, are you one of those who credit 'raw head and bloody bones' fables about convents? I have no jailer but my own conscience, Cloudy. Besides, my year's vows expired yesterday, and I am free for awhile, before renewing them perpetually," said Jacquelina, hurrying away to get ready. "And may I be swung to the yard-arm if ever I let you renew them," said Cloudy, while he waited for her. Jacquelina was soon ready, and Cloudy rejoined her in the front entry, behind the grating of which the good old portress, as she watched the handsome middy drive off with her young postulant, devoutly crossed herself, and diligently told her beads. * * * * * Commodore Waugh and his family were returning slowly from the South, stopping at all the principal towns for long rests on their way homeward. The commodore was now a wretched, helpless old man, depending almost for his daily life upon the care and tenderness of Mrs. Waugh.