OR,

WEEKLY

VISITOR.s

VOL. XIII.]

THE

MONK OF THE GROTTO..

A Tale:

(Continued)

A fatal event soon deprived him of the only consolation the earth afforded him. The young Spanozzi, his darling and only son, whose dawning merit announced that he would be a worthy brother of Eugenio and Virginia, was attacked by small-pox of a most malignant kind, and expired in his arms the ninth day after he was seiz ed with that cruel disorder.

1. The Marquis driven to despair, abandoned himself to a degree of grief bordering upon absolute delirium. He had not only lost his son, but with him the hope of enjoving that fortune, for the sake of which he had sacrificed everything, even his peace of mind In vain would he resume with his wife that deceitful mask which had seduced thean both for such a number of years. The Mar,quis preserved too recent a re

[NO... 15.

membrance of her late proceedings towards him. He sud for a separation, allowed her that par of her estate he had received at her marriage, and retired to a Monastery of Carmelites, situated in the Apennines, on the frontiers of Tus cany; gave his whole fortune to that Convent, and there passed the rest of his days in lamenting the loss of his first wife, his daughter, and his son.

Eugenio, who was informed of all these events in his retreat,

d the Marquis, regretfed the death of his young brother, because he was the brother of Virginia, and detached himself more than ever from the world. Solely occupied with the duties of his situation, he endeavoured, by fulfilling then with zeal. to calm the consuming grief which incessantly oppressed his heart. The remembrance of his dear lost Virginia pursued him even to the foot of the altar; she was ever present to his imagination, and her name was incessantly on his lips. Sometimes in the midst of the

igion, he thought he he ard the enchanting accents of her sweet voice. Incapable of alleviating the trouble that oppressed him, he would rush, in frantic despair, out of the Church, and traverse the circle of the walls of the Convent, in which reposed the inanimate remains of her who had been so dear to him. Deep sighs would then burst from his heaving bosom; he would suddenly stop, ad. dress his fervent prayers to Heaven, and afterwards return

to deposit, in the friendly

breast of Father Genaro, his regrets, his remembrances, and his griefs.

consolation he was capable of enjoying. One evening, when he was seated by that respect ed and worthy friend, who was confined to his bed by a violent fit of the gout, and reading to him a few chapters of the Bible, in order to beguile his sufferings, a servant delivered a letter to Father Genaro from the Abbess of San Cipriano.

The venerable Monk, after having perused it, said to Eufriend, that I am the Abbess's genio- "You know, my Confessor. She desires to see me immediately upon an affair which she assures me is of the most important nature; but as she is aware I am ill, she requests that one of our Fathers, of whom I shall approve, may come. in stead. Now as I my consider you as my other self, do me the favour to attend

her."

Eugenio clasped the hand of his much reverend friend and hastened to obey him.

Scarce had he announced to the portress that he came from Father Genaro, in obediance to the orders of the Abbess, than, instead of introducing him to the hall, according to the usual custom, he was desir

ed to enter into the interior of the monastery. A Nun conducted him to a secret cabinet, where the Abbess soon made her appearance.

"The reputation of Father Carlo," said she, addressing him, "his virtues, his strict piety, are so perfectly known to us, that I rejoice at Father Genaro's having chosen so worthy a substitute. But, my father," added the Abbess, with an emotion which forcibly struck Eugenio, "the bu siness which he has entrusted to you is of such importance, that I ought to require, on your part, a sacred oath never to reveal it."

"My respect for your orders will doubtless be sufficient, Madam," answered Eugenio; "but notwithstanding that, am ready to receive your secret under the sacred seal of a confession."

I demand no more,' ex. claimed the Abbess; " it is therefore under the sacre i seal of confession I entrust to you what you will now witness,'She then gently clapped her hands, and a Nun appeared. "My sister, said she, conduct Father Carlow to the strayed sheep, whom you say so earnestly solicits the last consola

tions of the Church; for God forbid I should be answerable for the soul of that sinner!"

The Nun bowed her head in silence, lighted a taper, placed it in a dark lantern, and led the way by a secret staircase, which communicated with the cabinet of the Abbess. Eugenio followed her, and traversed several narrow galleries. At length they arrived at an iron grate. The Nun opened it. A large stone staircase, leading to a subterraneous vault, presented itself to the astonished eyes of Eugenio."Where are you leading me, Madam?" said he, with emotion. "Are the infirmaries of your Convent under ground"

The Nun turned towards him without making answer, profound sadness was imprinted on her countenance, and tears dropped from her eyes.

Eugenio then began to comprehend what was required of hin. His soul shuddered. and he repented at having undertaken a mission, the accomplishment of which was likely to cause him so much uneasi. ness; but afterwards the idea of perhaps being of service to the unfortunate creature to whom he was approaching, restored him to his courage.

After having traversed the subterraneous gallery, the Nun stopped before an iron door with double-bars, which she opened with a trembling hand and introduced Eugenio to a capatious chamber hewn out in the rock. A lamp suspended from the roof, cast that pale and uncertain light around, which it is necessary to be for some time accustomed to, in erder to dis tinguish the objects reflected upon. In one corner was a kind of couch, the furniture of which appeared to have been of green stuff. A large ivory crucifix, placed on a black velvet ground, in an old worm-eaten wooden frame, appeared on the wall to the left. On the right was a matted chair, and near it was a stool on which were placed some re ligious boo's, a chaplet, and an hour-glas

Her pale and emaciated hands were joined on her breast; and she would have appeared as already enjoying eternal repose, had not her limbs been agitated by convulsive starts.

eyes,

"She is asleep," said the Nun, with a low voice. "But gracious Heaven! what kind of a sleep is it ?-My Father," added she, with tears in her "do not awake her. I leave you with her; pray the Almighty God to have pity on her long sufferings! I, who have been the daily witness of her angellick mildness, of her heavenly resignation, already number her among the Saints. But she was desirous, before dying, of receiving the consolation of the Church. I have long solicited this favour from the Lady Abbess, and I am happy she has appointed you to accomplish it.

Eugenio, extremely moved, thanked the Nun, not by words, but by his looks; indeed he was unable to speak. She went out, shut the door, and left him alone with the interesting victim, who still slumbered. He knelt near her, and addressed the most fervent pra e s to Hea e. Her sighs, and the faint heavings of her bosom, soon announced to him that she was awake.