Of course I did no such thing.
"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish; where did you learn to be?"
"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."
"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."
"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately at my abstracted look.
"At what convent?" I asked.
"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival, and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha, father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."
I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished. "Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.
"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not break her vow."
"Yes she will, when she hears that her brother is free and Stewart is alive."