with a stately figure, a remarkably fine face, and soft hazel eyes, entered the apartment, and advanced to where Catalina lay with the tenderest commiseration strongly marked on her features, which, like those of the sisterhood, were pale and sallow from confinement. For an explanation of the scene before her, she turned to the decrepit old priest Ignacio el Pastor, or _the Shepherd_, a name which he had gained in consequence of his having become a guardian of Merino sheep among the mountains of the Lina on the demolition of his monastery, which had been destroyed by the French troops when Marshal Massena was devastating the country in his retreat. Interlarding his narrative with many a Spanish proverb, he related the tale of Catalina’s assassination. The querulous tones of his voice were interrupted by many a soft expression of pity and pious ejaculation from the sisters at the grating, gazing with morbid curiosity on the fair form of the dead, whose high bosom was covered with coagulated blood, and the long spiral curls of whose ringlets swept the pavement of the chamber. The lady abbess, who was far from being one of those sour ancient dames that the superiors of convents are generally reputed to be, seated herself by Ronald’s side, and seeing that, although his proud dark eyes were dry and tearless, he was deeply afflicted, she prayed him to be comforted; but he hid his face among the thick tresses of the dead, and made no immediate reply. "She is indeed most beautiful! As she now lies, her features wear a sublimity which might become an image of Our Lady," observed the abbess, passing her hand softly over the cold white brow of Catalina. "She seems only to sleep,—her white eyelids and long black lashes are so placidly closed! And this is the sister of the noble Cavalier de Villa Franca, of whom we hear so much? If man can avenge, Don Alvaro will do it amply." "Avenge her!" muttered Ronald through his clenched teeth. "Noble senora, that task shall be mine—" "Alas! cavalier," interrupted the abbess, "we commit a deadly sin in talking thus." "_Echemos pelillos a la mar_, says the proverb; we must forget and forgive," chimed in El Pastor. "Vengeance belongs not to this earth,—’tis not ours, miserable reptiles that we are. What sayeth the holy writ? Lo, you now—" "Peace, Ignacio; I would speak. You are getting into the burden of some old sermon of yours, and it is a wonder you put so many words together without another proverb," said the lady abbess, as she took Ronald’s hand kindly within her own, which indeed was a very soft and white one. "El Pastor’s account of this affair is somewhat confused. Tell me, senor, how long it is since this dreadful deed was perpetrated?" "But yesternight—only yesternight. To me it appears as if a thousand years had elapsed since then, and the events of years ago seem to have passed but yesterday. All is confusion and chaos in my mind."