though　He　did　not　convince　her　that　his　reasoning　was　just；　He　at
  least　prevented　her　from　discovering　it　to　be　false。　　He
  perceived　that　her　respect　for　his　judgment　augmented　daily；　and
  doubted　not　with　time　to　bring　her　to　the　point　desired。
  He　was　not　unconscious　that　his　attempts　were　highly　criminal：
  He　saw　clearly　the　baseness　of　seducing　the　innocent　Girl：　　But
  his　passion　was　too　violent　to　permit　his　abandoning　his　design。
  He　resolved　to　pursue　it；　let　the　consequences　be　what　they
  might。　　He　depended　upon　finding　Antonia　in　some　unguarded
  moment；　And　seeing　no　other　Man　admitted　into　her　society；　nor
  hearing　any　mentioned　either　by　her　or　by　Elvira；　He　imagined
  that　her　young　heart　was　still　unoccupied。　While　He　waited　for
  the　opportunity　of　satisfying　his　unwarrantable　lust；　every　day
  increased　his　coldness　for　Matilda。　　Not　a　little　was　this
  occasioned　by　the　consciousness　of　his　faults　to　her。　　To　hide
  them　from　her　He　was　not　sufficiently　master　of　himself：　　Yet　He
  dreaded　lest；　in　a　transport　of　jealous　rage；　She　should　betray
  the　secret　on　which　his　character　and　even　his　life　depended。
  Matilda　could　not　but　remark　his　indifference：　　He　was　conscious
  that　She　remarked　it；　and　fearing　her　reproaches；　shunned　her
  studiously。　　Yet　when　He　could　not　avoid　her；　her　mildness　might
  have　convinced　him　that　He　had　nothing　to　dread　from　her
  resentment。　　She　had　resumed　the　character　of　the　gentle
  interesting　Rosario：　She　taxed　him　not　with　ingratitude；　But　her
  eyes　filled　with　involuntary　tears；　and　the　soft　melancholy　of
  her　countenance　and　voice　uttered　complaints　far　more　touching
  than　words　could　have　conveyed。　　Ambrosio　was　not　unmoved　by　her
  sorrow；　But　unable　to　remove　its　cause；　He　forbore　to　show　that
  it　affected　him。　　As　her　conduct　convinced　him　that　He　needed　not
  fear　her　vengeance；　He　continued　to　neglect　her；　and　avoided　her
  company　with　care。　　Matilda　saw　that　She　in　vain　attempted　to
  regain　his　affections：　　Yet　She　stifled　the　impulse　of
  resentment；　and　continued　to　treat　her　inconstant　Lover　with　her
  former　fondness　and　attention。
  By　degrees　Elvira's　constitution　recovered　itself。　　She　was　no
  longer　troubled　with　convulsions；　and　Antonia　ceased　to　tremble
  for　her　Mother。　　Ambrosio　beheld　this　reestablishment　with
  displeasure。　　He　saw　that　Elvira's　knowledge　of　the　world　would
  not　be　the　Dupe　of　his　sanctified　demeanour；　and　that　She　would
  easily　perceive　his　views　upon　her　Daughter。　　He　resolved
  therefore；　before　She　quitted　her　chamber；　to　try　the　extent　of
  his　influence　over　the　innocent　Antonia。
  One　evening；　when　He　had　found　Elvira　almost　perfectly　restored
  to　health；　He　quitted　her　earlier　than　was　his　usual　custom。　　Not
  finding　Antonia　in　the　Antichamber；　He　ventured　to　follow　her
  to　her　own。　　It　was　only　separated　from　her　Mother's　by　a　Closet；
  in　which　Flora；　the　Waiting…Woman；　generally　slept。　　Antonia　sat
  upon　a　Sopha　with　her　back　towards　the　door；　and　read
  attentively。　　She　heard　not　his　approach；　till　He　had　seated
  himself　by　her。　　She　started；　and　welcomed　him　with　a　look　of
  pleasure：　　Then　rising；　She　would　have　conducted　him　to　the
  sitting…room；　But　Ambrosio　taking　her　hand；　obliged　her　by　gentle
  violence　to　resume　her　place。　　She　complied　without　difficulty：
  She　knew　not　that　there　was　more　impropriety　in　conversing　with
  him　in　one　room　than　another。　　She　thought　herself　equally　secure
  of　his　principles　and　her　own；　and　having　replaced　herself　upon
  the　Sopha；　She　began　to　prattle　to　him　with　her　usual　ease　and
  vivacity。
  He　examined　the　Book　which　She　had　been　reading；　and　had　now
  placed　upon　the　Table。　　It　was　the　Bible。
  'How！'　said　the　Friar　to　himself；　'Antonia　reads　the　Bible；　and
  is　still　so　ignorant？'
  But；　upon　a　further　inspection；　He　found　that　Elvira　had　made
  exactly　the　same　remark。　　That　prudent　Mother；　while　She　admired
  the　beauties　of　the　sacred　writings；　was　convinced　that；
  unrestricted；　no　reading　more　improper　could　be　permitted　a　young
  Woman。　　Many　of　the　narratives　can　only　tend　to　excite　ideas　the
  worst　calculated　for　a　female　breast：　　Every　thing　is　called
  plainly　and　roundly　by　its　name；　and　the　annals　of　a　Brothel
  would　scarcely　furnish　a　greater　choice　of　indecent　expressions。
  Yet　this　is　the　Book　which　young　Women　are　recommended　to　study；
  which　is　put　into　the　hands　of　Children；　able　to　comprehend
  little　more　than　those　passages　of　which　they　had　better　remain
  ignorant；　and　which　but　too　frequently　inculcates　the　first
  rudiments　of　vice；　and　gives　the　first　alarm　to　the　still
  sleeping　passions。　　Of　this　was　Elvira　so　fully　convinced；　that
  She　would　have　preferred　putting　into　her　Daughter's　hands
  'Amadis　de　Gaul；'　or　'The　Valiant　Champion；　Tirante　the
  White；'　and　would　sooner　have　authorised　her　studying　the　lewd
  exploits　of　'Don　Galaor；'　or　the　lascivious　jokes　of　the
  'Damsel　Plazer　di　mi　vida。'　　She　had　in　consequence　made　two
  resolutions　respecting　the　Bible。　　The　first　was　that　Antonia
  should　not　read　it　till　She　was　of　an　age　to　feel　its　beauties；
  and　profit　by　its　morality：　　The　second；　that　it　should　be　copied
  out　with　her　own　hand；　and　all　improper　passages　either　altered
  or　omitted。　　She　had　adhered　to　this　determination；　and　such　was
  the　Bible　which　Antonia　was　reading：　　It　had　been　lately
  delivered　to　her；　and　She　perused　it　with　an　avidity；　with　a
  delight　that　was　inexpressible。　　Ambrosio　perceived　his　mistake；
  and　replaced　the　Book　upon　the　Table。
  Antonia　spoke　of　her　Mother's　health　with　all　the　enthusiastic
  joy　of　a　youthful　heart。
  'I　admire　your　filial　affection；'　said　the　Abbot；　'It　proves　the
  excellence　and　sensibility　of　your　character；　It　promises　a
  treasure　to　him　whom　Heaven　has　destined　to　possess　your
  affections。　　The　Breast；　so　capable　of　fondness　for　a　Parent；
  what　will　it　feel　for　a　Lover？　　Nay；　perhaps；　what　feels　it　for
  one　even　now？　　Tell　me；　my　lovely　Daughter；　Have　you　known　what
  it　is　to　love？　　Answer　me　with　sincerity：　　Forget　my　habit；　and
  consider　me　only　as　a　Friend。'
  'What　it　is　to　love？'　said　She；　repeating　his　question；　'Oh！　yes；
  undoubtedly；　I　have　loved　many；　many　People。'
  'That　is　not　what　I　mean。　　The　love　of　which　I　speak　can　be　felt
  only　for　one。　　Have　you　never　seen　the　Man　whom　you　wished　to　be
  your　Husband？'
  'Oh！　No；　indeed！'
  This　was　an　untruth；　but　She　was　unconscious　of　its　falsehood：
  She　knew　not　the　nature　of　her　sentiments　for　Lorenzo；　and　never
  having　seen　him　since　his　first　visit　to　Elvira；　with　every　day
  his　Image　grew　less　feebly　impressed　upon　her　bosom。　　Besides；
  She　thought　of　an　Husband　with　all　a　Virgin's　terror；　and
  negatived　the　Friar's　demand　without　a　moment's　hesitation。
  'And　do　you　not　long　to　see　that　Man；　Antonia？　　Do　you　feel　no
  void　in　your　heart　which　you　fain　would　have　filled　up？　　Do　you
  heave　no　sighs　for　the　absence　of　some　one　dear　to　you；　but　who
  that　some　one　is；　you　know　not？　　Perceive　you　not　that　what
  formerly　could　please；　has　charms　for　you　no　longer？　　That　a
  thousand　new　wishes；　new　ideas；　new　sensations；　have　sprang　in
  your　bosom；　only　to　be　felt；　never　to　be　described？　　Or　while　you
  fill　every　other　heart　with　passion；　is　it　possible　that　your　own
  remains　insensible　and　cold？　　It　cannot　be！　　That　melting　eye；
  that　blushing　cheek；　that　enchanting　voluptuous　melancholy　which
  at　times　overspreads　your　features；　all　these　marks　belye　your
  words。　　You　love；　Antonia；　and　in　vain　would　hide　it　from　me。'
  'Father；　you　amaze　me！　　What　is　this　love　of　which　you　speak？　　I
  neither　know　its　nature；　nor　if　I　felt　it；　why　I　should　conceal
  the　sentiment。'
  'Have　you　seen　no　Man；　Antonia；　whom　though　never　seen　before；
  you　seemed　long　to　have　sought？　　Whose　form；　though　a　Stranger's；
  was　familiar　to　your　eyes？　　The　sound　of　whose　voice　soothed　you；
  pleased　you；　penetrated　to　your　very　soul？　　In　whose　presence　you
  rejoiced；　for　whose　absence　you　lamented？　　With　whom　your　heart
  seemed　to　expand；　and　in　whose　bosom　with　confidence　unbounded
  you　reposed　the　cares　of　your　own？　　Have　you　not　felt　all　this；
  Antonia？'
  'Certainly　I　have：　　The　first　time　that　I　saw　you；　I　felt　it。'
  Ambrosio　started。　　Scarcely　dared　He　credit　his　hearing。
  'Me；　Antonia？'　He　cried；　his　eyes　sparkling　with　delight　and
  impatience；　while　He　seized　her　hand；　and　pressed　it　rapturously
  to　his　lips。　　'Me；　Antonia？　　You　felt　these　sentiments　for　me？'
  'Even　with　more　strength　than　you　have　described。　　The　very
  moment　that　I　beheld　you；　I　felt　so　pleased；　so　interested！　　I
  waited　so　eagerly　to　catch　the　sound　of　your　voice；　and　when　I
  heard　it；　it　seemed　so　sweet！　　It　spoke　to　me　a　language　till
  then　so　unknown！　　Methought；　it　told　me　a　thousand　things　which　I
  wished　to　hear！　　It　seemed　as　if　I　had　long　known　you；　as　if　I
  had　a　right　to　your　friendship；　your　advice；　and　your　protection。
  I　wept　when　you　departed；　and　longed　for　the　time　which　should
  restore　you　to　my　sight。'
  'Antonia！　　my　charming　Antonia！'　exclaimed　the　Monk；　and　caught
  her　to　his　bosom；　'Can　I　believe　my　senses？　　Repeat　it　to　me；　my
  sweet　Girl！　　Tell　me　again　that　you　love　me；　that　you　love　me
  truly　and　tenderly！'
  'Indeed；　I　do：　　Let　my　Mother　be　excepted；　and　the　world　holds