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Rh solitude. I ask but a brief sojourn, to turn my thoughts to Heaven, and to die." "We have here rest for the weary—peace for the bruised and broken heart; but your belief is that of your heretical island: you must have friends who will oppose your intent." "Friends! I have no friends; at least, none whose care extends beyond courtesy. I cannot argue on points of faith; but our God is the same. Bind me by what vow you please. I am rich—I am independent. Will you shelter me? save me from a troubled and evil world?" "It were a sin against Our Lady, did I not seek to save the soul she sends me. Come, daughter; henceforth we have but one shrine and one home." Every individual has some peculiar taste. That of the superior of the Convent of la Madre degli Dolori was for authority. An only child, her sway in the parental house had been absolute,—that over the Count Cimarozzo, her husband, even more so. His death—some ten years before, in embarrassed circumstances, leaving her very much at the mercy of a distant relative, who inherited title and estate, and had, moreover, a lady-ruler of his own—turned the haughty Countess's views to a cloister. Her