He stopped. The
Petitioner seemed bowed down with affliction: Her cheeks were
pale, her eyes dimmed with tears, and her hair fell in disorder
over her face and bosom. Still her countenance was so sweet, so
innocent, so heavenly, as might have charmed an heart less
susceptible, than that which panted in the Abbot's breast. With
more than usual softness of manner He desired her to proceed, and
heard her speak as follows with an emotion which increased every
moment.
'Reverend Father, you see an Unfortunate, threatened with the
loss of her dearest, of almost her only Friend! My Mother, my
excellent Mother lies upon the bed of sickness. A sudden and
dreadful malady seized her last night; and so rapid has been its
progress, that the Physicians despair of her life. Human aid
fails me; Nothing remains for me but to implore the mercy of
Heaven. Father, all Madrid rings with the report of your piety
and virtue. Deign to remember my Mother in your prayers:
Perhaps they may prevail on the Almighty to spare her; and should
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.
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