"Sufficient indeed," interrupted Sir Henry, starting from his seat, and pacing the cabin, "to blast her character; but not to draw the tear of pity, the unhappy--injured Françoise deserved! Not even a convent, I find, can screen the unfortunate from malice and detraction!--But proceed, my dear Louise; I meant not to interrupt you." "And did you, my brother," asked Louise, "ever before hear the misfortunes of Françoise?" "I learned them from herself, Louise." "From herself, Sir Henry! When did you know her?" "Not till after you, my sister, left the convent. And here let me endeavour to do justice to her character. To the lover sister Brigide mentioned, Françoise, on her father's refusal, was privately united: and, by the assistance of the old servant, who witnessed their marriage, he was secretly admitted into the house. This intercourse had continued several months, when her father saw, and shot the unhappy husband; who was soon after found nearly lifeless, by some peasants, and by them conveyed to the house of a surgeon. "In Monsieur de Colline's subsequent interview with Françoise, she avowed her marriage; but he either did not--or would not believe her. He caused her to be confined, and fearing, if she persisted in her declaration of marriage, he could not force her to take the veil; he not only informed her, her lover was dead, but, to further his purpose, that her infant likewise expired soon after its birth. By him it was indeed doomed to expiate, by its death, the supposed fault of its wretched mother: but Providence preserved it for a better fate. "Françoise, however--her heart nearly broken by the double loss of her husband and child--gladly availed herself of the fate designed her, to escape the reproaches of her father, and the taunts of her sisters, and threw herself into the convent of St. Ursule; where she took the veil at the very time her husband, recovered of his wound, was searching the country to discover her: but Monsieur de Colline had taken his measures too effectually; and at last, supposing her dead, he returned to England. At the old man's death, however, the letters the unhappy Henry had addressed to Françoise, and to him, were discovered by his Confessor; as likewise the Monk who had married them; and as her husband was then living, a dispensation was obtained, and sister Françoise, freed from her vows, returned with my father to England." "Your father! O God, my brother!" exclaimed Louise, clasping her hands. "Tell me, I entreat you, if Françoise de Colline was really my mother!" Sir Henry appeared confused--distressed: but at last said--"Seek not, my dear girl, the knowledge which cannot add to your happiness, but would plunge me still deeper in the gulf of misery. Your mother lives: and you shall one day know her. The time, alas! will too soon arrive, when every midnight deed must be brought to light: but, till then--let not the hand of Louise level an unnecessary shaft at my bosom!"