_Nov. 4._
MAGDALEN JEWELL hath escaped, at the least she hath disappeared, and no
one knows what has become of her. It seems impossible that she could
have got out, as there are no means whatever of opening the door from
the inside, and the key hath never left Mother Gertrude's care. Some of
the Sisters think that the ghost or demon, or whatever it is that hath
heretofore avenged sacrilege in that chapel, hath torn her in pieces
and carried her off bodily, but they say there are no signs of any such
struggle. The very cruse of water which Mother Gertrude carried to the
prisoner last night is standing half emptied on the floor, but the
bread is all gone, so she must have eaten her supper.
Mother Gertrude, on rising, found poor Amice very much worse, faint and
exhausted, which delayed her a little. When she went to the prison,
she called as usual, but there was no answer. She looked through the
grating in the door, usually masked by a panel on the outside, but
could see nothing. Becoming scared, she sent for Mother Superior and
Father Fabian, who had the tower and vault thoroughly searched, but
nothing was to be found, save what had always been there. It is a most
wonderful chance. I don't think Father Fabian believes very much in
the demon, or he would not have searched the grounds so carefully, or
asked so many questions. Mother Gertrude takes charge of all the keys
at night, and places them under her pillow; and beside that, who was to
steal them, supposing that such a theft were possible? Mother Gertrude
is a heavy sleeper, but Amice is a very light one, specially since her
illness, and she declares most positively, that she is certain nobody
was in the room last night, save herself and Mother Gertrude.
It is all a dark mystery. Magdalen was to have been removed to Exeter
to-day, but now Father Fabian must go instead, and give the best
account he may of the matter. I cannot say that I believe very much in
the demon, any more than Father Fabian. My notion is that some friend
from outside hath found a way of helping the poor woman, or that there
is some way of escape from the tower which we know not of.
Anyhow, I am glad she is gone, and so I can't but think there are some
others, if they would say so. The tower being open, some of us young
ones ventured to explore it, and even into the vaults below. The tower
is simply what it looks to be—a structure of great unhewn stone, with
projections here and there like shelves, and the remains of a stone
staircase, though where it should lead to I cannot guess. Another stone
stairs leads down to the vault, which is perfectly dark, save for one
narrow slit at the very top, going into the garden. Here was once a
shrine, whereof the altar and crucifix still remain. A row of niches
runs all round, of which two have been built up, doubtless for burial
purposes, and there are the dusty remains of several coffins, such as
are used for nuns, beside two or three of lead and stone. 'Tis a dismal
and dreadful place, and it seems horrible to think any living being
should be confined there. Yet, the story goes that it has sometimes
been used as a prison for nuns guilty of grave offences.
I drew a long breath, when I got into the free air of heaven once more,
and I must say, I was glad to think poor Magdalen had escaped.
I could be as light-hearted as a bird, only that my dear Amice is
so much worse. She is very low indeed, too exhausted to speak; but
she lies quietly in her bed, with a look of most heavenly peace on
her face. She seems most of the time engaged in inward prayer and
thanksgiving, for her eyes are closed and her lips move, and now and
then she opens her eyes with such a wondrous smile, as if she saw the
glories of heaven open before her. What shall I do when she is gone? I
dare not think. I have been sitting by her a great part of the day, and
now Mother Gertrude tells me, she has asked that I may watch beside her
this night, and dear Mother hath given permission. I am most thankful
for the privilege, for I would not lose one moment of her dear society.
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