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the soul's comfort, the Christian's resource. And for you, my son,” addressing Di Rinaldini, " patience is a never-failing antidote to woe, a sure specific against sublu. nary difficulties.”

“ The cowl's frigidity may preach patience,” exclaimed Huberto ; tience, father, shrinks before the propelling powers of nature, and laughs to scorn the efforts at stoicism. He talks of

patience who never was a husband; he talks of patience who knows not a joy beyond it: but for me to be patient when Adelheida suffers, to hear the shrieks, the

agony

of my wife, and

The monk started ; a. momentary frown stole over his features, and impressed them with more than their native severity: instantly he resumed his self-command ; instantly he withdrew his dark eyes from the unconscious Huberto, and, with apparent composure, fixed them on the Conte: -- Come, my Lord, let us to the oratory. The dead of night is passed; the Lady

Adelheida

Adelheida sleeps ; let us pass the intermediate time in supplicating Heaven to restore her to our hopes.”

Alverani replied not; he threw a fearful glance around, grasped the arm of the monk, and hastened from the corridor.

Father Brazilio, the spiritual Mentor of the Conte Alverani's family, was a brother of the neighbouring monastery, of the Camaldoli order. It was not piety, it was not zeal, it was not a distaste for the world, or a fear of its aHurements, which led him to the still, unvarying calm of Religion's sanctuary: born the younger branch of an illustrious family, he was doomed to a eloister by the ambitious policy of a parent; who thus sought to enrich his hopour's heir, and to hand down to posterity a name distinguished by grandeur, if not by virtue. The youthful novice twice broke from the trammels of compulsion; twice, in the probationary period, escaped

the

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the vigilance of his detainers, and, under fictitious names, burst on the world, in all the ardour of youth, in all the zest for enjoyment. His passions were not stamped for retirement; strong, yet undecided, they wanted but the pruning hand of tenderness, to pronounce them virtuous; but the fears of detection had made him artful, the example of associates had made him vicious: the strength of fortitude was degenerated into cruelty, emulation into envy, ambition into avarice; every nobler impulse of the soul had dwindled to some base incentive, and the cowl enshrined a heart, deep, designing, sordid, unforgiving. In youth, a slave to the soft influence of love, he had poured forth his tale at the feet of his mistress ; unpropitious to his hopes, deaf to his supplications, a rival possessed the boon he coveted; he had been rejected: and while that rival exulted in the smile of beauty, while the unconscious fair tendered to him her only bequest-her friendship, he smo

thered

5

thered the imagined injury deep in his own breast; his face wore a specious smile, but there it rankled: he received it with the cold policy of a German, he revenged it with the vindictive perseverance of an Italian. But, though wounded in a sense which his heart could not pardon, yet was he the sport of promiscuous gallantry; for beauty, that uitdying claim to admiration, skimming o'er the light surface of his sensual nature, ever aroused the momentary gust of passion ; but even when yielding, when subdued, his apostate heart worshipped a new form; the alienation was casual, was short lived: nature and passion had stamped irreversibly the image of his former love; and the bitter sigh of regret, the rankling pang of envy, the burning. impulse of revenge, marked the return of his allegiance. To the sacred altar of his God, he bent a reluctant sacrifice; and while his lips forswore the charm of society, while, with external sanctity, he pronounced the vow of forbearance,

B 6

piety, piety, and self-denial, imagination revelled in the forbidden joys of the world; imagination laughed to scorn the delusions of priesthood, and the immaculate purity of religion. In the presence of his unsuspecting brotherhood, he assumed ever the hypocritical garb of zeal, and joined them with unabating severity in the enthusiastic rites of their order. The tinkling bell for devotion never found him slumbering; the first in the chapel, the last in the refectory, he was called a saint, though he knew himself a sinner. Among the poorer class, who flocked for absolution to the convent, the pious monk, the holy Brazilio, was gazed at, talked of, sought after, as the bright pattern of excellence, the human prototype of perfection. His admonitions were mild, his counsels salutary, his morals apparently pure; the sage were confounded by his erudition, the ignorant led by his persuasions : in short, his external character was faultless, his internal character not to be resolved. Such was Fa

ther

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