He reflected that the vision of happiness for him could never be
realized.

'She is lost to me!' He continued; 'By marriage She cannot be
mine: And to seduce such innocence, to use the confidence
reposed in me to work her ruin. . . . Oh! it would be a crime,
blacker than yet the world ever witnessed! Fear not, lovely
Girl! Your virtue runs no risque from me. Not for Indies would
I make that gentle bosom know the tortures of remorse.'

Again He paced his chamber hastily. Then stopping, his eye fell
upon the picture of his once-admired Madona. He tore it with
indignation from the wall: He threw it on the ground, and
spurned it from him with his foot.

'The Prostitute!'

Unfortunate Matilda! Her Paramour forgot that for his sake alone
She had forfeited her claim to virtue; and his only reason for
despising her was that She had loved him much too well.

He threw himself into a Chair which stood near the Table. He
saw the card with Elvira's address. He took it up, and it
brought to his recollection his promise respecting a Confessor.
He passed a few minutes in doubt: But Antonia's Empire over him
was already too much decided to permit his making a long
resistance to the idea which struck him. He resolved to be the
Confessor himself. He could leave the Abbey unobserved without
difficulty: By wrapping up his head in his Cowl He hoped to pass
through the Streets without being recognised: By taking these