 call to your
remembrance, that love the most impetuous, the most unbounded, has induced me to
disguise my sex; or that, instigated by desires, offensive to your vows and my
own honour, I should endeavour to seduce you from the path of rectitude. No,
Ambrosio! learn to know me better: I love you for your virtues: lose them, and
with them you lose my affections. I look upon you as a saint: prove to me that
you are no more than man, and I quit you with disgust. Is it then from me that
you fear temptation? from me, in whom the world's dazzling pleasures created no
other sentiment than contempt? from me, whose attachment is grounded on your
exemption from human frailty? Oh! dismiss such injurious apprehensions! think
nobler of me; think nobler of yourself. I am incapable of seducing you to error;
and surely your virtue is established on a basis too firm to be shaken by
unwarranted desires. Ambrosio! dearest Ambrosio! drive me not from your
presence; remember your promise, and authorise my stay.«
    »Impossible, Matilda! your interest commands me to refuse your prayer, since
I tremble for you, not for myself. After vanquishing the impetuous ebullitions
of youth; after passing thirty years in mortification and penance, I might
safely permit your stay, nor fear your inspiring me with warmer sentiments than
pity: but to yourself, remaining in the abbey can produce none but fatal
consequences. You will misconstrue my every word and action; you will seize
every circumstance with avidity which encourages you to hope the return of your
affection; insensibly, your passions will gain a superiority over your reason;
and, far from being repressed by my presence, every moment which we pass
together will only serve to irritate and excite them. Believe me, unhappy woman!
you possess my sincere compassion. I am convinced that you have hitherto acted
upon the purest motives; but though you are blind to the imprudence of your
conduct, in me it would be culpable not to open your eyes. I feel that duty
obliges my treating you with harshness; I must reject your prayer, and remove
every shadow of hope which may aid to nourish sentiments so pernicious to your
repose. Matilda, you must from hence to-morrow.«
    »To-morrow, Ambrosio? to-morrow? Oh! surely you cannot mean it! you cannot
resolve on driving me to despair! you cannot have the cruelty -«
    »You have heard my decision, and it must be obeyed: the laws of our order
forbid
