o question more, my Aclallert ! Why thus ast thou from mo ami M»lay, with design, Concealed tho station and the parentage Of thy dear lost one ? ADALBERT. Father ! oh, because— But why conceal it from you ?- Until now Mcro weakness closed my lips, lest I should cast A slur upon tho ashes of my lore. Sho was what jieoplo call the bastard child Of a high lord so said report—tho fruit Of iutercourso unlawful. Fui 1.1 P. What then was Her father's name? ADALBERT. I never learnt from her What namo lie bore ; but sho herself was called Agnes of Clairmont— PHILIP. Clairmont ? Was her home Not in tho Faubourg Marceau ? ApALtU'HT. There sho dwelt, And with her lived her aunt, named Percival. (Ationùhcd.) But what ails yon, my Father ? PHILIP (AtiJe). Tcrrib Tho light dawns on me. (Alotul.) Thou didst namo but The Abbess of St. Clare. Hast never seen her? ADALBERT. Once only can I call to mind I saw her, Twas when a novico took tho veil ; a being Majcstirnl and lofty she did seem. Soft dignity appeared to mo to shine Till. TIVI'UU IX CÏPRC».