SECOND ESCAPE FROM THE NUNNERY.
It was early in the spring, when I again succeeded in making my escape.
It was on a Saturday evening, when the priests and nearly all the nuns
were In the chapel. I was assisted out of the yard in the same way I was
before, and by the same person. There was still snow upon the ground and
that they might not be able to track me, I entered the market and walked
the whole length of it without attracting observation. From thence I
crossed the street, when I saw a police officer coming directly towards
me. I turned down a dark alley and ran for my life, I knew not whither.
It is the duty of every police officer in Montreal to accompany any of
the sisters whom they chance to meet in the street, and I knew if he saw
me he would offer to attend me wherever I wished to go. Such an offer
might not be refused, and, certainly, his company, just at that time,
was neither desirable nor agreeable.
At the end of the alley, I found myself near a large church, and two
priests were coming directly towards me. It is said "the drowning catch
at straws." Whether this be true or not, the plan which I adopted in
this emergency seemed as hopeless for my preservation, as a straw for
the support of the drowning. Yet it was the only course I could pursue,
for to escape unseen was impossible. I therefore resolved to go boldly
past them, and try to make them think I was a Superior going to church.
Trying to appear as indifferent as possible, I approached, and saluted
them in the usual way. This is done by throwing forward the open hand,
and passing it down by the side with a slight inclination of the head.
The priest returns the salutation by standing with uncovered head till
you have passed. In the present instance, the priest said, as he removed
his hat, "Church is in, Sister." I bowed again, and hastened on. With
trembling limbs I ascended the Church steps, and stood there till the
priests were out of sight. It was but a moment, yet it seemed a long
time. I knew the house was filled with priests and students, some of
whom would be sure to recognize me at once. What if they should come
out! The thought of it nearly took away my breath. The cold perspiration
started from my brow, and I felt as though I should faint. But my fears
were not realized, and as soon as the priests were out of sight, I went
on again. Soon I came to a cross street, leading to the river, where a
large hotel stood on the corner. I followed the river, and travelled all
night. The next day, fearing to be seen by people going to church, I hid
in a cellar hole, covered over with old boards and timbers.
At night I went on again, and on Sunday evening about ten o'clock I came
to a small village where I resolved to seek food and lodging. Tired,
hungry and cold, feeling as though I could not take another step, I
called at one of the houses, and asked permission to stay over night.
It was cheerfully granted. The lady gave me some milk, and I retired to
rest. Next morning, I rose early and left before any of the family were
up. I knew they were all Romanists, and I feared to trust them.
At noon that day I arrived at St. Oars, a town, named, as I have been
informed, for the man who owns a great part of it. I stopped at a public
house, which, they called, "Lady St. Oars," where they were eating
dinner. The landlady invited me to dine with them, and asked if I
belonged to the convent in that place. I told her that I did, for I knew
if I told the truth they would suspect me at once. "Do you eat meat?"
she asked. I told her I did not. "Do you eat butter on your bread?" I
replied in the affirmative, and she gave me a slice of bread and butter,
a piece of cheese and a silver cup full of milk. I ate it all, and would
gladly have eaten more, for I was very hungry. As I was about to leave,
the lady remarked, "There was grease in that cheese, was it a sin for me
to give it to you?" I assured her it was not, for I was allowed to eat
milk, and the cheese being made of milk, there could be no sin in my
eating it I told her that, so far from committing a sin, the blessed
Virgin was pleased with her benevolent spirit, and would, in some way,
reward her for her kindness.
Leaving Lady St. Oars, I went on to the next town where I arrived at
seven in the evening. I called at the house of a Frenchman, and asked if
I could stay over night, or at least, be allowed to rest awhile. The man
said I was welcome to come in, but he had no place where I could sleep.
They were just sitting down to supper, which consisted of pea soup;
but the lady said there was meat in it, and she would not invite me
to partake of it; but she gave me a good supper of bread and milk. She
thought I was a Sister of Charity, and I did not tell her that I was
not. After supper, she saw that my skirt was stiff with mud, and kindly
offered to wash it out for me, saying, I could rest till it was dry.
I joyfully accepted her offer, and reclining in a corner, enjoyed a
refreshing slumber.
It was near twelve o'clock before I was ready to go on again, and when
I asked how far it was to the next town, they manifested a great anxiety
for my welfare. The man said it was seven miles to Mt. Bly, but he hoped
I did not intend to walk. I told him I did not know whether I should or
not, perhaps I might ride. "But are you not afraid to go on alone?" he
asked. "St. Dennis is a bad place for a lady to be out alone at night,
and you must pass a grave-yard in the south part of the town; dare you
go by it, in the dark?" I assured him that I had no fear whatever, that
would prevent me from going past the grave-yard. I had never committed
a crime, never injured any one, and I did not think the departed would
come back to harm me. The lady said she would think of me with some
anxiety, for she should not dare to go past that grave-yard alone in the
dark. I again assured her that I had no cause to fear, had no crime on
my conscience, had been guilty of no neglect of duty, and if the living
would let me alone, I did not fear the dead. They thought I referred to
the low characters about town, and the lady replied, "I shall tell my
beads for you and the holy Virgin will protect you from all harm. But
remember," she continued, "whenever you pass this way, you will always
find a cordial welcome with us." I thanked her, and with a warm grasp of
the hand we parted.