262 THE PASSION-FLOWER. 



continued thus to pray, for about a year ; and was 

 much struck when nearly four years afterwards, I 

 learnt that her death had taken place at the end of 

 that time ; and, from the same source, I also 

 gleaned the particulars already related, respecting 

 the means of her perversion from the truth — or 

 rather from nominal protestantism, for she was not 

 then in any degree spiritually enlightened — and I 

 rejoiced in the sweet hope, that in the struggle so 

 apparent at our last meeting, and in which she 

 probably lost her life, she had overcome by the 

 blood of the Lamb ; renouncing the idolatrous 

 faith into which she had been so foully entrapped. 

 The secrets of her dying chamber, none can tell. 

 Many a recantation openly made, is no where 

 registered but in heaven, and in the dark bosoms 

 of those who suppress the tale. Beloved E ! I 

 cannot look upon the Passion-flower, spreading 

 wide upon the garden wall, or climbing the trellis 

 before me, but I think I see the soft white hand 

 of my pensive nun reaching among its branches, 

 and behold her graceful figure, with its bend of 

 unaffected humility, as she gave me the memento; 

 her eloquent eyes bespeaking more than either ac- 

 tion or words could express. 



I remember, also, the disgust with which I once 

 witnessed the grossly familiar manners of some 

 bulky priests, who came to the door of the room 

 unaware of my being in it — manners evidently 



