Much as I had condemned Flaminio for his bigotted superstition, I could not wholly absolve Isabinda for the step she had taken; – I wonder'd not that she was fearful of being forced into a state of life which few ladies of her years would chuse; but I wonder'd that she was not also fearful of putting herself into the power of a man who loved her, and whom she passionately loved; – she must certainly either not have consider'd the dangers to which she might be exposed, or have depended too much on the strength of her own virtue.

Besides, she could not be so ignorant as not to know that no woman can be made a nun, any more than she can be made a wife, against her will; and a less share of courage than she shew'd in this midnight elopement would have enabled her, on her entrance within the walls of the convent, to declare she had neither call nor inclination to receive the veil, on which neither the abbess nor the bishop of the diocess could have consented to her admission into holy orders.

It is true, that her father might have confined her there a pensioner as long as he thought fit; but as this would not have answer'd his end in devoting her to the service of the church, by way of propitiation for his offenses, there is no doubt to be made but that he would shortly have recall'd her home; – and, perhaps too, been convinced of his folly in attempting a thing so absurd in itself, as well as cruel to his daughter.

I am sensible that many of my fair young readers will be apt to quarrel with me for my animadversions on Isabinda's conduct in this point, and cry out, – if they were in her place they would do the same; – it is very likely, indeed, that they would do so, and full as likely that they would meet with something to make them heartily repent of their inadvertency.