Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April 1848

"If what?" demanded I, perceiving that she blushed and hesitated.

"Why, if you wish to kiss me, I don't know that I should object a great deal."

Of course I did no such thing.

"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish; where did you learn to be?"

"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."

"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."

"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately at my abstracted look.

"At what convent?" I asked.

"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival, and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha, father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."

I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished. "Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.

"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not break her vow."

"Yes she will, when she hears that her brother is free and Stewart is alive."

"Well," said Ellen, "I know what I would do in her place, but what is your plan? In case she is willing to escape how do you propose to manage?"

"That's the difficulty; don't the nuns ever come out of the convent?"

"Never alone; always by twos. Sister Agatha is a great saint, and has a deal of liberty, but she is always in company."

"Well, well," said I, "we shall have to scale the walls then."

"Pooh! you are as romantic as William."

"Well, Miss Wisdom, wont you suggest something?"

"Certainly. Frank," replied Ellen. "Sister Agatha always took quite a liking for me, because I was her scholar I suppose, and an American, and she and the Superior, who is a very good-natured person, came immediately to see me, when I was sick last summer, and afterward called very often. Now, if papa is willing, when your ship is ready to sail I'll fall sick again and send for Sister Agatha, who will be sure to come with some one else, but she can slip out through the court after awhile, and down the garden-walk here to the river, and go into your boat, which shall be waiting, and then you can take her off to the ship."

"That is a capital plan, dear Ellen," said I, "but there is one grand objection to it."

"What is that, Frank?"

"You would get into trouble by it."

"Oh, no! I think not; but yonder comes papa with mother, and William is saying fine things to Mary, behind them."

"Ah, Frank!" cried Mr. Stowe, as we made our appearance, "we were looking for you. I did not know but that you had run away with Ellen."

"No," said I, "not yet; but we were contriving the best plan to run away with a nun."

"Hush! you fool!" whispered Langley, pinching my arm.

"Go to thunder!" was the reply, "I know what I'm about." I then related to Mr. Stowe the story the reader well knows, and which I found Mr. Stowe knew very well also, and finally disclosed Ellen's very excellent plan for the deliverance of my cousin.

"If," said Mr. Stowe, in reply, when I had finished, "if you can get sister Agatha's consent to elope at the proper time, Ellen may fall sick if she pleases. I may be suspected in having a hand in the matter; but if the affair is properly managed, they can do no more than suspect, and that I care nothing about, as I'm going to move back to Boston in the spring. But the grand difficulty you will find to be in persuading Sister Agatha to break her vow."

"Let me alone for that," replied I, "if I can only have an interview with her."

"That is easily done," said Mary Stowe, "the nuns are allowed to see their friends at the grate."

"And I will go with you to the convent to-morrow, and engage the superior's attention while you talk with your cousin," added her father.

In the evening Langley and I held a council of war, wherein it was decided, nem. con., that our plot was in a fair way to be accomplished.

CHAPTER VIII.

The Visit at the Convent

The next day Mr. Stowe and myself set out for the convent in that gentleman's carriage. Upon our arriving there we were shown into a spacious parlor, at one end of which was a larger grated window, opening into a smaller room. In a few moments the Lady Superior entered. She was a tall, handsome woman, and surprised my Protestant prejudices by receiving us very cordially, and immediately engaging with Mr. Stowe in a very lively, animated conversation in Spanish. Suddenly she turned toward me,

"My good friend, Señor Stowe, says that you wish to see Sister Agatha, who was your cousin."

"Yes, señora."

"Well, the señor and myself are going to the school-room, and I will send her to you; but you must not make love to your cousin – she is very pretty, and you Americans have very sad morals;" and so saying, the lively superior led the way to the school-room, followed by Mr. Stowe.

After they had retired I went up to the grate, and waited several minutes, until at last a door of the inner room opened, and a nun entered. Her face bore the traces of deep melancholy; but notwithstanding that, and the unbecoming dress which half concealed her form, I thought I had never seen a woman so lovely, so completely beautiful. I stood in mute wonder and admiration.

"Did you wish to see me, señor?" asked the nun, in a low, soft voice.

"I did, madam," I replied. "If you are Clara Garcia, allow me to introduce myself as your cousin, Frank Byrne."

"Madre di Dios!" cried the nun, her face lighting up with a smile of astonished delight, "can it be possible! How did you come here?"

"In one of my father's ships," I replied. "I am a seaman on board of her."

"What, the Cabot?" asked Sister Agatha, suddenly, with a color in her cheeks.

"No, a new ship – the Gentile."

The nun made many inquiries about my father and mother, and her cousins in Boston; and we chatted away quite merrily for some minutes.

"You seem to take an interest in the world, after all," said I, striving to lead the conversation so that I might introduce the matter which was my business.

"Not much, generally," sighed Sister Agatha. "I sometimes think of past times with regret, but I am for the most part very happy."

This was a stumper. I determined to see if all this composure was real.

"Can any one hear us?" I whispered.