that be the case, I engage myself every Thursday in the next
three Months to illuminate the Shrine of St. Francis in his
honour.'

'So!' thought the Monk; 'Here we have a second Vincentio della
Ronda. Rosario's adventure began thus,' and He wished secretly
that this might have the same conclusion.

He acceded to the request. The Petitioner returned him thanks
with every mark of gratitude, and then continued.

'I have yet another favour to ask. We are Strangers in Madrid;
My Mother needs a Confessor, and knows not to whom She should
apply. We understand that you never quit the Abbey, and Alas! my
poor Mother is unable to come hither! If you would have the
goodness, reverend Father, to name a proper person, whose wise
and pious consolations may soften the agonies of my Parent's
deathbed, you will confer an everlasting favour upon hearts not
ungrateful.'

With this petition also the Monk complied. Indeed, what petition
would He have refused, if urged in such enchanting accents? The
suppliant was so interesting! Her voice was so sweet, so
harmonious! Her very tears became her, and her affliction seemed
to add new lustre to her charms. He promised to send to her a
Confessor that same Evening, and begged her to leave her address.
The Companion presented him with a Card on which it was written,
and then withdrew with the fair Petitioner, who pronounced
before her departure a thousand benedictions on the Abbot's
goodness. His eyes followed her out of the Chapel. It was not