_St. Ethelburga's Shrine, Sept. 30._
I DON'T know that any one who loves me will ever see these lines, but
stranger things have happened, and I will never give up while I live
the hope of seeing my husband again. For his sake I will keep my senses
together, by God's help, through all the horrors of this place, and of
all with which they threaten me. Yea, if one of these niches, as that
fiend threatened, is destined to enclose me alive, I will struggle to
the last. I will never give up. Magdalen escaped from this place, and
why not I? Only no one knows I am here. They will all think I have been
carried away by the pirates.
But it may be His will even yet to save me, and if so, none of their
schemes, however artfully laid, but must fall to the ground. And if
I am to suffer for my faith, I know He will support me to the end,
as He did Amice and has done many another. By His help I will never
deny Him; and they shall never make me say I am sorry for marrying my
husband—never! I glory in his name! I cherish the memory of his last
embrace, when we thought ourselves parting for but a few hours, and I
know we shall meet again where no malice or wrath of man can part us.
Yet my spirit shrinks to think of his return to his desolate home! Oh,
Richard, Richard! Oh, to see thee once—only once again!
Mistress Warner and I had set out to walk down to the cove to see a
child, one of Magdalen's pupils, who had met with a bad scald. Richard
had ridden over home, meaning to be back at night. We had gone about
half way, when I remembered some linen I had meant to bring for a
lying-in woman, and sent Warner back for it—I sitting meanwhile on a
rock which formed a natural seat beside the stream. I had sat thus but
a few moments, when I heard, or so I believed, a child crying in the
wood close at hand. I thought of nothing but that one of the children
from the hamlet had got astray, and as I always run about our own woods
without fear, I went to seek it. I was well within the shadow of the
woods, when all at once I felt myself seized from behind—a cloak was
thrown over my head, and I was so muffled that I could not scream or
make any noise to be heard.
"Make no resistance, Mistress!" said a man's voice. "If you utter a
sound, you die the next moment!"
I was in their power, and there was no help, so I submitted; and being
bound, I was carried some distance, and then found myself in a boat
from which I was lifted up the side of a vessel and placed below. The
air was stifling, even if my head had not been covered; but at last the
cloak was removed and my eyes were bandaged instead. I made good use
of them in the moment I had them, however, and saw that I was in the
cabin of a small vessel, such as ply along this west coast to and from
Bristol. More I was not allowed to see.
Somehow my mind was curiously calm all the time. I believed I had
fallen into the hands of pirates, and might be carried away to Turkey
and sold as a slave; but I was determined not to lose my life or
liberty without an effort. I said my prayers, commending to Heaven
myself, my husband, and my friends at home, and prayed earnestly for
release and for grace in my time of need. I kept my ears open, and
judged that I was alone in the cabin; but I could now and then catch a
few words from the deck, and those words I was certain were English.
After much tossing, which lasted for many hours, we were again still,
and I heard the casting of anchor and the lowering of a boat. I was
once again muffled in the cloak, and being set on shore, found myself
on horseback behind somebody, to whom I was bound fast by a belt. We
rode fast and far—how long I could not tell, but at last our ride came
to an end. I was once more taken down, carried through some place which
echoed hollow, like a vault, and then downstairs; but before I reached
the bottom, I heard a whisper which told me where I was.
"Ah, 'twas ever what I looked for!" said a voice, which I knew right
well.
"Hush!" said another voice, with imperative sharpness.
Then being set down, my hands and eyes were unbound, and a glance
told me my whole situation. I was in the vault under St. Ethelburga's
shrine, in our old convent garden. Before me were the new mother
assistant, a priest whom I had never seen, and one in the dress of a
lay brother. I expected to see Sister Catherine, but she was not there,
though I am sure I heard her voice. Not a word was said till my bonds
were unloosed, and I was set down on a rude bench. Then the priest
addressed me:
"Rosamond Corbet! Miserable apostate and perjured nun that you are,
your spiritual superiors are still anxious to save you from the fate
you have prepared for yourself. Therefore they have brought you to this
holy place. You may yet repent—may yet return to the home from which
you have wandered, may resume your former place, and even rise to high
honor and trust therein."
Here I distinctly heard a contemptuous sniff, from the neighborhood of
the door, and I knew that Sister Catherine was at her old tricks. I was
about to speak, but was sternly silenced.
"Listen, while there is time, to the terms of mercy," said the priest.
"We are willing to receive you on these conditions. You shall write
with your own hands a letter to the Bishop, declaring that you were
coerced into your marriage, and have taken the first opportunity to
escape therefrom. You shall also say that you had been already secretly
professed, before you went home. There are abundance of people to
bear witness that you had all the privileges and duties of one of the
professed, being constantly present at 'obedience,' and having charges
of importance laid upon you, such as are proper only to the Sisters. It
will thus be easy to procure the annulling of your so-called marriage,
and after a time of seclusion and penance, which I promise you shall be
made as light as possible, you may again take your place as an honored
member of this holy family."
"And if I refuse?" said I.
For all answer he pointed to a niche, beside which were laid tools,
bricks and mortar.
"You dare not award me such a fate!" said I. "My kinsmen and my husband
would fearfully avenge me."
"Your kinsmen and your husband believe you to be carried off by
pirates," was the answer. "They will be seeking you on the seas and
among the Turks, while your bones are mouldering, under these walls."
I saw, as in a flash of lightning, all the horrid helplessness of my
position, but my courage did not give way.
"Answer me one thing," said I. "Does Mother Superior know that I am
here? Has she any share in this plot?"
"No," answered the priest, after a moment's hesitation. "She is not
here. She has been called to Exeter, to attend a Chapter of the order,
and will probably be placed at the head of a house in that place."
Again I heard Sister Catherine's sniff of contempt.
"And how much time do you give me to decide this matter?" I asked again.
"We might justly require you to decide on the instant," answered the
priest, "but in pity to your soul, and because we hope that solitude
and prayer may bring you to a better mind, we give you a week, in which
to consider. This Sister will bring you food and water, but presume not
to speak to her, or to make any noise, on pain of being removed to a
worse place. Contemplate that cell—your living grave—think of what a
life of usefulness and happiness may yet be yours—and we have good hope
that you will return to a better mind."
He seemed to wait for me to speak, but I only bowed my head, and they
presently withdrew, leaving me alone, to consider of the infamous
propositions they had made me, in presence of that awful token of the
fate that awaited me, should I refuse to comply. Then my strength gave
way all at once. I sank on the damp ground in a kind of swoon, which I
think passed into sleep.
I was waked at last by the sound of the chapel bell, calling the
Sisters to early prayers, and found myself not wholly in darkness.
There was a very small window, close to the ceiling of the deep vault,
which admitted a ray of light. When my eyes grew more accustomed to the
obscurity, I could see everything plainly. A heap of straw had been
placed in one corner, and by it stood a coarse loaf and a pitcher of
water. The rest of the vault was as I had last seen it, with some stone
coffins, the occupants of which had long since mouldered into dust,
some tattered remains of banners and winding-sheets, and one new leaden
coffin, placed there not long since. I remembered that the Vernon
family, or that branch of it to which our mother belonged, had a right
of burial here. But by one of those niches in the wall, of which I have
spoken, lay what had a grim significance, namely, a pile of bricks,
some mortar, and building instruments.
A cold shudder ran through me at the sight. I fell on my knees, and
with tears and sobs, besought to be saved from such a dreadful death,
and to be restored to my husband. I also prayed for strength to suffer
all that might come on me, without denying the truth; and I believe
my prayer has been answered, for I now feel quite calm and strong. I
have eaten and drank, and feel refreshed. I am determined not to yield,
but to escape if possible. No Corbet did ever yet fear death, nor yet
resign life without a struggle.
I have been making a close survey of my prison, and have found an
inestimable treasure, namely, the remains of two great funeral torches,
of black wax, overlooked and left, I suppose, at the time the leaden
coffin was placed here. They are large and thick enough to give light
for many hours. 'Tis a wonder the rats have not devoured them.
I have also cautiously tried the door of the vault, and find that it
yields a little under my hands. Luckily (though that is hardly the
word) I have both flint and steel in my pocket, in a Dutch tinder-box
Master Jasper gave me. I have also a knife and scissors. 'Tis well they
did not think to search me.
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