"I can inform my husband when I find either my daughter or myself threatened with any peril. We are the best judges of the times and the places when and where it suits us to take exercise. I pray you let us pass-we wish to return to our home."

There was something sarcastic and cool in the tone of Muthis that excited both alarm and indignation in the breast of Medora; but she kept silence, and her mother replied, rather proudly,

66 I am sorry that you should think any further escort necessary than that which I have provided for my daughter. She is quite safe under my protection and that of our attendants."

"I saw your own personal domestic at your house, and he it was who told me in what direction you were gone. Now," he added, glancing towards Justin, "I see you are attended by a stranger."

By one on whom I can depend," said Marcella, coldly, "and therefore I need not give you any further trouble. Allow me to thank you for your attention, and to wish you good night."

"Does Sophis know that you are fond of evening walks by the sea side ?" enquired Muthis, still keeping his place in front of Marcella, and thus preventing her from advancing on her way. "And does he know that the plain which you have just crossed is full of ancient sepulchres, and that there are dangerous openings into dark and gloomy catacombs, which may be frequented by robbers, or by persons still more to be feared ?"

Muthis laid a peculiar emphasis on the last words, and then he paused, as if to observe their effect on Marcella. She made no reply: she felt that there was a deeper meaning in the questions of Muthis than the words expressed, and she feared to show either her anger or her suspicions. She had never liked the Egyptian; and it had only been in accordance with her husband's wishes, and from a consideration of the friendship which her son entertained for him, that Muthis had been admitted to her house on terms of intimacy. She knew his influence with Sophis, and she dreaded that eventually Medora would be either persuaded or compelled to accept him as a husband. Of all the inhabitants of Alexandria there was therefore, for various reasons, not one whom she would not have preferred to have met at this particular juncture. She knew not what to reply, so she kept silence.

After a pause, during which she knew that the dark eyes of Muthis were fixed on her countenance, and even in the evening gloom were reading its varying expression, the wily Egyptian continued:

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Might it not be an act of kindness to my excellent friend, and also to his wife and daughter, if I were to give him a hint of the dangers to which those most dear to him are exposed, by indulging their taste for late evening rambles in desolate and secluded places? I would not willingly omit anything in my power to preserve the lovely and unsuspicious Medora, and you, her excellent mother, from peril of any kind, and more especially of that kind which is most to be dreaded in the plain which you have just crossed, and among the ruins and the caves which are there so abundant."

The spirit of Marcella was roused by the insinua

"You will find Sophis there before you. I met him returning from the club, which broke up this evening at an early hour. How will you account to him, Marcella, for being absent at such a time of night?”

"Muthis," replied Marcella, more gently-for her anger was giving place to fear "Muthis, I perceive that you have a further meaning in all that you say. I perceive that you have some suspicions connected with our being here this evening. If so, I entreat you to tell me their nature, and not to communicate those suspicions to my husband until you have heard my reply to your explanation. You know that Sophis has strong prejudices."

I know that he has strong national feelings, and a great contempt for superstition and fanaticism,” replied Muthis, as, with a rather triumphant smile, he turned to accompany Marcella along the shadowy lane, and no longer opposed her progress. Medora and Pyrrha followed closely, and anxiously listened to the conversation, while Justin walked a little in advance, to guide the party on their way.

"It is because I am so well acquainted with the opinions and sentiments of Sophis," continued Muthis, in a decided and measured tone, "that I am so earnestly desirous to warn you, Marcella, of the danger to which you are exposing yourself and your daughter. You know my love for her-you know that to obtain her hand there is no sacrifice I would not make, and no hardship I would not endure. Your excellent husband has given me every encouragement, and he has even promised to use his paternal authority to remove any obstacles that might arise in the way of my happiness. But hitherto I have forborne to press my suit as eagerly as I have longed to do, because I knew that the fair Medora wished to complete her studies in our ancient and revered religion at the sacred Isle of Phyla. On her return from her last visit to that great seat of learning and piety-where I felt assured all her opinions had been confirmed, and all her devotion to our national deities strengthened-I resolved to seek her favour more assiduously than ever, and to endeavour to win from her a willing consent to our speedy union. I fear I have not succeeded. Neither from Medora nor from you have I received the encouragement which Sophis gave me reason to expect, and to which I hoped my long attachment, and my other claims to consideration had entitled me. On the contrary, your daughter has treated me with the greatest coldness, and your manner has been far less courteous than formerly. I am well aware that, as a Greek, you are opposed to my religion; but it is also the religion of your husband and children, and it is for their sakes that I have turned a deaf ear to all the new opinions that are now spreading so rapidly over the whole earth, and have exposed myself to the charge of bigotry and narrow-mindedness. I knew that both Sophis and Orestes were resolved to give Medora's hand only to an Egyptian by birth, and an Egyptian in faith: I am both and the land of the Nile contains none of purer blood, or more entire devotion to the religion of our great ancestors. To these recommendations I can add that which wealth bestows, and which most women

prize highly. I say nothing of personal advantages," and Muthis drew up his really fine and well-dressed figure to its full height, and gave a self-complacent glance towards Medora, for whose benefit this long oration was especially intended, as he proceeded "such points are matters of taste; and your lovely daughter knows best whom and what she admires."

"She does indeed," thought Medora, with a sigh. "To what does all this tend ?" asked Marcella, rather hastily.

"Simply to this," responded Muthis: "I have waited patiently, hoping each day to find my attentions more favourably received, but in vain. I have sought to discover the cause of Medora's indifference, but hitherto equally in vain. Once I fancied that another was preferred before me; but a moment's calm reflection showed me that in that case such a preference was impossible."

By no means," said Medora to herself, almost aloud.

"But at length," continued Muthis, in the same calm monotonous tone, which both irritated and amused Medora, "at length, I believe, the mystery is explained. I have long known that you, Marcella, were a secret listener to the absurd doctrines of the Nazarenes; but so long as Medora was at Phylæ, and safe from the vile contagion, it mattered little whether you worshipped Jupiter and Juno or the crucified son of a Jewish peasant girl. I also hoped that before her return your eyes would be opened to the folly of such a fantastic faith. Since your daughter came back to Alexandria I have watched your proceedings more narrowly than you are at all aware of. I was jealous for the religious principles of my future wife "-(" Which I shall never be " again exclaimed the indignant Medora, almost articulately)--" and I carefully observed her in the temple, and noted with satisfaction the regularity of her attendance, and the costliness of her offerings to our great goddess. This continued for a time; but latterly I have perceived an abstraction in her manner during the sacred ceremonies, that has filled my mind with anxious doubts and fears. I am well aware that the wilder and more unreasonable any new doctrine may be, the more readily is it received, and the more widely does it spread; and this alone can account for the great diffusion of the faith of the Nazarenes, and the obstinacy of its followers in adhering to it, even to death. Might not even the pure mind of Medora become infected by this spiritual pestilence, especially when she knew her mother to have become one of its willing victims? With this apprehension in my soul, I looked in vain this evening for your daughter's graceful form bending as usual before the shrine of Isis. She came not-and I knew that the Nazarenes were to hold a meeting in the catacomb. You start, Marcella-but I know all their movements; and when Fabius was our prefect, I was able to assist him in putting down the traitorous sect. I sought for Medora at her father's house, and, as I feared, I was informed that she had gone out with you and Pyrrha on foot. Instantly I repaired to the spot where I met you, and by which I knew you must pass. I wished to warn you-I wished to counsel you to escape from the snares of these wily fanatics before you have taken any irrevocable step. Marcella !" he continued, in a more passionate and excited manner-and he stopped suddenly and grasped her arm, while he confronted the agitated Medora, and gazed earnestly at her pale and anxious countenance-"Marcella, hear me! I do not

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wish to betray you to the anger and just indignation of Sophis-I do not wish to arouse persecution against your insane associates-but I solemnly declare to you, that unless you pledge yourself that Medora shall never again be present at any of your mysterious meetings, and also that you will employ all your influence and all your authority to induce her to become my bride without any farther delay, I will make known to Sophis all that I have. myself become acquainted with, and will leave him to deal both with you and his daughter. I know that he can be stern and inflexible-and so do you!" Marcella trembled-she feared the anger of her husband, and she feared even more the reproach of her pagan friends and connexions. She was about to attempt half measures with the Egyptian, and to try the effect of persuasion, in order to shake his determination, and so at least to gain time. But Medora rightly interpreted her mother's hesitation, and she advanced to her side, and fixed her large expressive eyes on Muthis. Then, in a resolute voice, though with pale and quivering lips, she addressed him :

"I am not a Christian, Muthis, and I have no intention of becoming one. I am a sincere and devoted worshipper of the ancient gods of Egypt. At the same time I respect the principles of the ill-used Nazarenes, and I admire their conduct. Rather than again sit by and see them murdered, as I saw them in the circus, I would unite myself to their cause, and die with them. But enough of this. If you are cowardly and unmanly enough to act as a spy on my mother's actions, and then to use your cunningly-acquired knowledge to injure her happiness and her reputation-be it so; but I tell you plainly, you will gain nothing by your artifices or your malice-I never will become your wife. I have endeavoured to show you that it was useless for you to seek to gain my affections; it would therefore be worse than useless for you to endeavour to obtain my hand. You are my brother's friend, and I would gladly have you for my friend also. We can never be anything more to each other. Let me, then, entreat you to prove the regard which you profess for me, and for which I thank you, by looking on me only as the sister of Orestes, and abstaining from all further mention of our marriage to my father. Promise me this, Muthis, and I freely offer you my friendship and my gratitude."

As Medora spoke, she held out her hand to Muthis, and a sweet smile lighted up her countenance. She thought that her persuasions must prove effectual; but she did not know the character of him whom she hoped to move by motives of generosity and kindness.

Muthis caught her hand, but not in the spirit in which she had tendered it.

"It shall be mine!" he exclaimed. "Willingly or unwillingly you shall give this hand to me, and no other man shall possess it. I will appeal to Sophis!"

Medora attempted to withdraw her hand, but Muthis held it as in a vice. Then offended dignity came to her aid, and, drawing up her tall graceful figure, she stood perfectly still, and said, in a firm voice,

"I also will appeal to my father. He loves me, and he will not suffer me to be insulted: far less will he scck to compel me to accept as a husband a man who condescends first to act the part of a spy, and then that of a ruffian."

Fire flashed from the eyes of Muthis at this wellmerited reproach. But he did not loose the hand of Medora; he only crushed it in his cwn till the tears started to her eyes with pain. Still she remained

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motionless, waiting for his reply, and scorning to show her burning shame and indignation at his violence. Setting his teeth firmly, and speaking in a low, deep voice, he said,

"Your father loves his country and his gods more than he loves his child. Your father is a man of honour, and he has pledged himself that you shall be my wife. Your father is a stern man, and he has already cast off one daughter who disobeyed him; he may cast off another. We shall see!"

With these words he flung back her hand, and strode away into the darkness, leaving Medora and her mother greatly agitated, and full of apprehension for the future.

When they reached their home, they found that Sophis had retired to the luxurious bath-room, where he was, according to the custom of the time, enjoying the society of some friends. They therefore hastened to their own apartments, rejoicing to escape for the present any awkward interrogatories, and full of anxiety as to the part which it was now their duty to take.

To their very unpleasant meditations we must now leave them, and return to Milan, to follow Alypius and his friend Augustine through trials and conflicts of a different nature.

THE NUNS OF SANTA CECILIA, AT ROME. SOME months ago an article appeared in this publication, called "The Prisons of Rome," and were it not for that, such might, perhaps, have been the title of this paper; for in Rome prisons, monasteries, and convents are one in reality, if not in appearance. It was only a few years since three young ladies, of our knowledge, went with their mother to Rome. The two eldest, captivated with the apparent peace and happiness of the convent, and the oily words of its inhabitants, were induced to take the veil; and when, some winters after, their younger sister, who had resisted the follies of popery, returned to Rome in a rapid consumption to die, these two were not even allowed to bid her a last farewell, nor look in her face in death, nor attend at her funeral.

What now follows is but the first impression of a Roman convent; what is already said is the bitter and fatal result, if that impression is allowed to remain on the mind. We give a place to the narrative on the ground of its suggesting a useful warning.

On the 12th of April, 1863, my mother, my little sisters, another lady and myself, spent a Sunday afternoon in the Benedictine convent of Santa Cecilia, in the Trastevere, Rome. It may appear rather strange that we chose that day instead of another; but Sunday being a festa, or feast day, is the only time visitors can see the nuns. The events which inspired us with the desire to see over this convent, happened in the following manner.

On the preceding Friday we had been to see the church belonging to the convent, which of course is always open. It contains the celebrated statue of Santa Cecilia. The saint is represented lying on her face, wrapped in the grave clothes, just as she is said to have been found when her tomb was opened some time after her martyrdom. The statue is made of pure white marble, most delicately and finely carved-not the usual gigantic size of a statue, but that of a young girl, lying neglected and unheeded; one small hand visible, and her face turned away from the people that

spurned her. As we were looking at this and other remarkable works, a closely grated gallery caught our attention, built high up all round the church. We asked the sacristan what it was for, and he told us it was where the nuns sat, when attending mass, as they might never be seen by the public. The thought struck us how much we should like to see the nuns themselves, and the place where they spent their whole lives; and we asked the sacristan if we might go over the convent. He said "No, no one did without a permisso from the Cardinal Tedesco, or German cardinal, and that could not be got without a great deal of trouble." We were just leaving the church in disappointment, when we noticed an old man go into a sort of waiting room made in the wall. As the fashion in Rome is to explore any hole or corner which may take one's fancy, we followed the old man, and found ourselves in a small stone room, with a door on one side, and a hole cut in the wall about a foot square, protected by a thick iron grating, and iron bars so contrived that one heard what was said, but could not see the speaker. When we rung a bell we heard a shrill voice on the other side of the opening, calling out "Che-c-è," which means, "what is it?" We repeated our question to the nun, as to whether we might go into the convent; but receiving an answer as before, we asked her how we could get the permission, and where the cardinal lived, besides other amusing questions as to how old she was, what was her name, and so on; all of which she answered in a way which shewed us that nuns knew how to laugh. So we set off to the cardinal's residence, the Palazzo Braschi, determined, if possible, to get what we wanted. And we did get it after all; having barely escaped being obliged to ask the cardinal in question ourselves, when he was attending one of the ceremonials at the Vatican.

On Sunday afternoon we duly arrived at the convent, and the door was opened by two or three women, dressed in sackcloth gowns, long aprons, and black hoods on their heads. They welcomed us with true Italian politeness, and took us at once into the garden. It was indifferently cultivated, but had an abundance of orange and lemon trees, thickly covered with ripe fruit. Then we saw the refectory, or eating-hall, and the work-room-for the nuns make a great many clothes for the poor. Over the door of that room, "Silenzio was written in large letters; but apparently they had indulgence on festas, as they talked fast enough to us.

We walked about the room, and I noticed a picture of the ascension of the Virgin. As I looked at it, one of the nuns came up to me, and taking my hand gently in hers, said in her most winning tone, "And would not you too go to heaven, dearest signorina?"

"Surely," I answered; "and I hope one day I may, by the grace of Jesus Christ."

"Then will you not ask the Madonna Santissima to pray for you where she now is? She loves you so very much; she would have you there with her; she is so good, so good!"

"There is one there who intercedes with the Father for sinners here," said I; "and that is his holy Son, who died once that we might be saved."

"But his holy mother loves him so much, that she would pray too for those he prays for."

"Credo ch' egli mi basta" (I believe that Christ is sufficient for me), said I, and the subject was dropped.

After that we went up stairs into the kitchen, and were each presented with the most delicious lemonade I had ever tasted. We all made a short complimentary