He said, and flew towards the Cell of the Novice. Several Monks were already in the chamber. Father Pablos was one of them, and held a medicine in his hand which He was endeavouring to persuade Rosario to swallow. The Others were employed in admiring the Patient’s divine countenance, which They now saw for the first time. She looked lovelier than ever. She was no longer pale or languid; A bright glow had spread itself over her cheeks; her eyes sparkled with a serene delight, and her countenance was expressive of confidence and resignation. “Oh! torment me no more!” was She saying to Pablos, when the terrified Abbot rushed hastily into the Cell; “My disease is far beyond the reach of your skill, and I wish not to be cured of it”—Then perceiving Ambrosio,— “Ah! ’tis He!” She cried; “I see him once again, before we part for ever! Leave me, my Brethren; Much have I to tell this holy Man in private.” The Monks retired immediately, and Matilda and the Abbot remained together. “What have you done, imprudent Woman!” exclaimed the Latter, as soon as they were left alone; “Tell me; Are my suspicions just? Am I indeed to lose you? Has your own hand been the instrument of your destruction?” She smiled, and grasped his hand. “In what have I been imprudent, Father? I have sacrificed a pebble, and saved a diamond: My death preserves a life valuable to the world, and more dear to me than my own. Yes, Father; I am poisoned; But know that the poison once circulated in your veins.” “Matilda!” “What I tell you I resolved never to discover to you but on the bed of death: That moment is now arrived. You cannot have forgotten the day already, when your life was endangered by the bite of a Cientipedoro. The Physician gave you over, declaring himself ignorant how to extract the venom: I knew but of one means, and hesitated not a moment to employ it. I was left alone with you: You slept; I loosened the bandage from your hand; I kissed the wound, and drew out the poison with my lips. The effect has been more sudden than I expected. I feel death at my heart; Yet an hour, and I shall be in a better world.” “Almighty God!” exclaimed the Abbot, and sank almost lifeless upon the Bed. After a few minutes He again raised himself up suddenly, and gazed upon Matilda with all the wildness of despair. “And you have sacrificed yourself for me! You die, and die to preserve Ambrosio! And is there indeed no remedy, Matilda? And is there indeed no hope? Speak to me, Oh! speak to me! Tell me, that you have still the means of life!” “Be comforted, my only Friend! Yes, I have still the means of life in my power: But ’tis a means which I dare not employ. It is dangerous! It is dreadful! Life would be purchased at too dear a rate, ... unless it were permitted me to live for you.”