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240 well-head was a large stone cross, at the foot of which was a kneeling figure, said to be an ancient statue of St. Valerie. The beautiful bend of the form, the finely-shaped head, the delicate and Grecian outline of the features, and the flowing drapery, were suspiciously classical in their grace. Around was an entirely open area, and there the nuns had small separate gardens, where they cultivated flowers and aromatic herbs.

The young English nun was seated at a little distance; her black robe and veil contrasted strangely with the bright boughs over her head—it was a pomegranate-tree, bent to the very ground by its luxuriant weight of blossoms—those rich red flowers which burn in spring with the blushes of summer. She was quite alone; and Beatrice, hastily taking a few early violets, which she had planted in her own plot of ground, went and offered them to the stranger in English. A passionate burst of tears—her first answer—startled her with their excess of sorrow. She had only just succeeded in restoring her companion to some appearance of composure, when the nun, her attendant, returned: seeing Beatrice, she said, in a good-humoured tone of petition,