could back into the garden, and clapping the gate after her, in her fright stopped not till she was almost at the entrance of the cloyster:—­both she and her companion were out of breath; but when they had a little recovered it, the latter took the liberty of railying her on the terror she had been in, at the sight of two persons, who were, doubtless, only pursuing their own affairs, without any thought or notice of them:—­the abbess acknowledged the pleasantry was just, and returned again to the gate, which having opened, they found two horses tied to a tree, at a little distance from it, without any person to look after them.  She imagined they belonged to the farmer, but could not guess wherefore there was not a third, or how it happened that the man was not with them.—­The two lady-adventurers waited in hopes of seeing their attendant with another horse, till the abbess, fearing the night would be too far spent for the execution of her design, and grown quite wild with rage and vexation, resolved to go without a guide; and accordingly she, and the young nun that was with her, mounted the horses they found there, and rode away.

Little did this distracted woman imagine to whom she was indebted for the means of conveying herself where she wished to be; for in effect these horses were Natura’s, and it was no other than himself, attended by his man, who had put her into that fright, which occasioned her running so far back into the garden, as gave him time to enter, without being either seen or heard by her:—­he was no sooner within the gate, than his servant tied the horses to a tree, as has been related, and retired to a more convenient place, either to lye down to sleep, or on some other occasion.—­Thus did an accident which had like to have broken all Elgidia’s measures, turn wholly to the advantage of them, and she found as much satisfaction, as a person in her situation could possibly take, in finding Natura so punctual to the summons she had sent: 

It was with a flood of tears she related to him all that had passed between the furious abbess and herself after his departure, and concluded her discourse with beseeching him to see her in the morning, and omit nothing that might pacify her, ‘even,’ said she, ’to forswear ever speaking to me more.’

Natura was touched to the very soul at the grief he saw her in, and equally with the tender consideration she had for him; and now more devoted to her than ever, would have done any thing to prove the sincerity of his passion, but that which she demanded of him:—­it was in vain she urged the impossibility of keeping a correspondence together under the same roof with a rival who had all the power in her own hands; or that she represented how much better it would be for both to break off so dangerous an intercourse of themselves, before the rage of the abbess should put her upon doing it, in a manner which might involve them all in destruction:—­all the arguments she made