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L O R E T T E.

THE

HISTORY OF LOUIfc^.,

DAIJGHTER OP A

CANADIAN NUN

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EXHIBITING THE

INTERIOR

FEMALE CONVENTS.

Where is she, whose looks were love and gladness?
— Love and !:i,ladness I no Icngi-r see !
She is gone ; -^nd since t!iat hour of sadness,
Nature seems her sepulchre to me.

Montgomery.

NEW YORK : ,- '

PRINTED AND PUBLIsnEI) BY WM. A. MBRCEIN,

240 Pearl street, co-nifr of Burling-Slip.

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Entered by Rowland Bourne, aostfrding to the Act of Congress in
the year 1833, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court, of the
Southern District of New York.

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ARTHUITTAPPAN:

TBH tOLVUB IS XNSCBIBBD, AS A

TRIBUTE OF RESPECT,

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FOR HIS 0HRI8TIAN FHILANTHBOFY AND ZBAL,

IS ID

the

ON BSHALF OF THB

"BLIND AND WRETCHED.'

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New York,

S* M March, 1833.

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^'INTRODUCTORY LETTER.

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"Pq * * ♦ *

Some yeara ag:o, my friend, I made a tour in Canada ;
^nd was introduced to a gentleman whose extensive know-
ledge of the local scenery of that Province, and of the
most influential persons in society, greatly facilitated my pur-
iuits, and enlarged my information. He accompanied me to
Montmorepci, Lorette, and Lake Charles. On our return, as
we sauntered around the mill at the Indian village, admiring
ihe picturesque beauties of the rapids in the stream.—" This
place, said Oiganu ; is associated with very affecting oc-
currences." " What were they ?" was my inquiry. <<^

He paused, as if perplexed at the consciousnt::£ i f an im-
prudent disclosure ; and upon my repeating the question, he
merely added,—" The tale is too long for our present hear-
ing, and must not now be told."

On a subsequent visit to Quebec, a large party proposed
the same excursion, again to enjoy a sail upon the Lake.
Diganu took his seat in my caleche. We halted at the Inr
dian village on our return ; and having crossed the bridge,
we arrived at the spot where the dell is viewed in all its strik-
ing varieties. After surveying the river and its banks with
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much MBotkm ; my aged companioii remarked.—'* I intima*
ted to yoo two years ago, the intense .interest which 1 feel
in beholding this scene.*

t»

" Yes— I replied, and my curiosity was awakened by
your intimation. Often at a long distance have I remember*
ed Lorette, and have been sadly tantalized with your re-
serve.**

'* The expression of my feelings then, in a measure, was
involuntary— he answered— but the causes of my silence will
soon cease to eiist, ko that before you leave Montreal, you shall
possess the whole story. It is not probable, he added— after
our separation for this season, that we shall ever meet again
on earth. My age precludes the possibility of my long con*
tinuance in this world ; and a^ you do not expect to be in
Canada until a distant period shall have arrived— I will
confide to you the circumstances to which 1 alludedj with
other details of human life, which I have met with during
my terrestrial pilgrimage."

Prior to my departure ; Diganu presented me a large sealed
packet. " This parcel, said he, contains the record of some
past events and characters. It is not tu be opened until you
have been apprised of my decease. After that event, the
narratives are subject to your disposal."

My friend's painful anticipation was realized. We met ho

Nmore. During the last spring, when I was looking forward

to the pleasure that I should experience in a renewal of social

intercourse with the veteran ; after the lapse of a longer time .

than usufti, from the reception of his final epistolary remem*
brancer{ I was informed of bis peaceful departure firom
earth; and of the testamentary bequest by which he had
m^l^ested his cegard for his distant acquaintance. „_.

The packet was immediately unfolded ; and the contents

appeared so interesting and instructive, that it was decided,

others bliould peruse the delineations it comprised. A note

was inclosed which thus explained the Writer's views and

designs. , . i'v.4

" ■;. r ■ . ';•-•• "Tt-u a^'.yv , ■

"You will perceive, my beloved friend, that these sheet* ^^
have been written at very distant intervals. They contain
notices of persons and things characteristic of Canadian
society. The names of all the parties are changed. Al'
though the actors have disappeared and the curtain has drop>
ped upon their part of the tragic drama, yet as the narrator
would surely be known, 1 have imposed the seal of secrecy,
until it will be of no importance to me^hat use is made of
these documents. I consign the manuscripts to you now, in
preference to leaving them among my papers ; as in that
case, they might never have been seen by you ; for it is
most probable, that those persons who must necessarily act
under my last will, would destroy memorials which record
facts, that no man in Canada woijld dare to publish. When
you peruse hese biographical narratives, you will be re-
minded of Lorette ; and of your '

Faithful and affectionate

Wi*ii.

*»VJ

Cape Diamond, i
fOth September, 1836. $

DIGANU."

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The manuscripts thus confided to my perusal were mani*
festly written when the occurrences were vividly impressed
upon the memory. Many remarks and circumstances have
been omitted. They betrayed a little of the old gentle-
man's garrulity, and were sometimes irrelevant, or too caustic
and severe With the exception of the commencement, the
documents have been transponed, so as to adapt them for a
continuous history. ' ' '

'^.^iPij

No stranger can visit Canada without an awakened and
deep interest and an acute American observer of life and
manners naturally inquires into the causes oi' those varied
novelties which attract his notice. The peculiar characteris*
tics of society thfie elude a slight regard ; and to compre-
hend the state of religious principles, the tune uf domestic
morals, the mental vassalage, and the profound debasement
of the habitans of that Province, numerous diificulties and
obstructions must be surmounted. Patience, with persever-
ance, is necessary to delve into the secrets of their social
and political condition.

A solicitude to understand and analyze the elements oi
Canadian character and habits, influenced me to use all the
means to obtain accurate and diversified information upon
these melancholy topics. My acquaintance with Digamu
aided my design. ^^ t,

The circumstances of his life had increased his tact for
surveying those around him ; and his whole course had ren-
dered it necessary for him to watch with all keenness, the
wayward doings of his associates and fellow-citizeos. His

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natural aptitude of diKriroination had received in additkmaJ
impulae by the intelligence which he had imbibed, and at
he eiprenaed it—" After my eyes were once opened, I main-
tained a sleepless watch upon the proceedings of every pt^
soni'Witb whom I was obliged to become acquainted. To
that tnoat uncomfortable suspiciousness of all mankind, in
which for some years 1 lived, I am indebted for the tern-
poral comfort which I enjoy ; and I passed through one-half ot
my earthly course, before I fully comprehended the meaning
of a solitary exercise combined with the charities of domes*
tic life ; except in connection with the affair of Lorette and
Chretien ! When eating my solitary meal, or roaming alone
around the city ; often have I vented my dreary feelings and
morbid disquietude in this homely couplet —

Father, mother, sister, brother, friend —

Wife !— Ah ! what do those dear names intend ?"

■r;

Diganu however had survived all his forced and unnatural
misanthropy. He displayed tenderness and affection of the
highest order, commingled with a charming sincerity, that
rendered communion with him increasingly delightful. The
arcana of Canadian society he unfolded in ita minutest fea*
tures ; and however perplexing some of his statements ap-
peared ; he affirmed them to be all true, and vanquished
incredulity by evidence which no scepticism could deny.

In the following narrative, some of the contents of my own
yort-iolio are conjoined with Diganu's details. To specify
the distinctions is superfluous. All the circumstances are part
of those annals which represent man as he is, not as fiction
describes him.

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A flattering portrayer of Canada delineates the batHtaB» '
upon the banks of the river Lawrence, as a gallant, high 4^:;
principled, enlightened, and dignified race of mortals, ol ;^
superior mental elevation and moral worth* To assume this
standard of any nation, en massej is over-stepping the bouc-
daries of veracity, and that it is totally inapplicable to the
Gallic population of Lower Canada, is known to every in*
dividual who has not continued in a,dead sleep, while mak-
ing the grand northern tour..

The enpuing pages depict Canadian personages, not in the
imaginative embellishments of romance, but in the unadorned
drapery of truth. Who of Diganu's actors strutted on the
theatre of life, anterior to the capture of Quebec by Wolfe's \^^

army, and who are of a subsequent period, there is no clue-
to discover^ His descriptions of the natural scenery are very
correct : and some of his individual portraits and narratives
of events, I have frequently heard attested as matters oi
common notoriety.

This explanation contains all that is necessary as an intro-
ductbry notice to Lorette. You, my friend, I trust, will
unite in judgment with the opinion of several clergymen
who examined the manuscript, before it was sent to press ;
that the perusal of this narrative will enhance the love of
freedom, intelligence, purity and truth ; and also render that
triple unholy alliance, ignorance, error and corruption, more
odious and repugnant.

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" Amid the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel and to possess,
And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless ;
Minions of splendor shrinking from distress !
None who with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less.
Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued ; '

This is to be alone— this, this is solitude !" J*

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• .**
On the twenty-first day of December, 17 — , Digaiiu

,ind Chretien devoted the hours to a circuitous ride

;irouud Quebec, for the purpose of arranging the most

agreeable mode to dissipate the approaching Christmas..

in conformity with the Canadian customs. This is a

season of festivity, in which every species of sensual

indulgence is admitted without restriction. Considera

ble preparation and expense and all possible ingenuity

are impressed into the service Co render the close of the

year a period of jollity, a carnaval ; when folly and

vice rule in all plenitude of sway. High Mass having

been chanted ; it seems, that the people think the Savior

is honored in exact pioportion to the extent of their

criminal revelry.

" * \

In these practice$.»Digaou had been nurtared. AIL^
hid ideas of religion were conipressed witbuia (iliit?; .^
Like every other orderly peaceablei Canadia||deymee j'
his creed of faith comprised but two articles^— " i toUst^
believe only what the priest teaches ; and when I die,
I shall go where Le Pretre^ the Priest, chooses to send
me." His moral code was equally concise and edify-
ing — « I must do all that the Priest orders."

Thus the revolving years repeated the same unvary-
ing routine. Dancing, gambling, and dissipation for
two weeks from Christmas. — Gormandizing, drinking
and frolic, during several days before Lent — pretended
fasting, confession to Le Pretre, and mumbling over
the Ave Mary, until Good Friday-^High Mass and
every species of youthful gratification in full indulgence
at Easter ; with all the other annual minor repetitions
ef the same farce of religious buflfoonery ; the same
drivelling comedy of low life, and the same heinous
tragedy of spiritual crime.

His companion on the ride to Charlebourg and
Lorette, was of the true Caliadian orthodox stamp ; a
creature reckless of the past, present and future ; who
regularly practised all the exterior mummery which '
Le Pretre enjoined ; and with no less confidence impli-
citly trusted his soul to the Priest's safe keeping and
clemency. They had completed ail their arrange-
ments, and in their carriole, with characterist levity
were exulting in their anticipated delights at the ensuing
festival. When they arrived at the head of the dell of

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Lorette, through which the river Charles to impetuoualy
rushes, their attention was absorbed by an object which
deeply alarmed them.

It was a moonlight evening ; but the heavens were
partially covered wkh those deep gray flitting clouds,
which, in connection with the luminous effects of the
snow, give to the northern regions that peculiar aspect
which the Canadian winter nights present; and which
attach to objects at a certain distance, a shadowy indis-
tinctness, that is calculated to excite very undefinable
emotions. Whether the tone of their feelings had
l?en too highly exhilarated, and the revulsion so na-
tural in such cases affected them is ii]unaterial^— but
Diganu remarised to his companion—" what is that
figure standing upon yonder rbck 7"

" du 'est que c'est ? What is it — replied Chretien :
Je ne sais pas ; I know not : but it looks like a woman.
We must hurry round and ascertain."

As they rapidly crossed the stream, they discerned
that it was a female figure. Her head was uncovered ;
her hair was disordered ; she had none of the clothiog
usual for that inclement season ; and she' appeared to
be wringing her hands, beating her bosom, and agoni-
zed in the extremity of despair. Perceiving her perUoos
situation, Diganu end Chretien with all possible ex-
pedition hastened to the spot ; but as they approached
the projection, she was invisible. Upon examinatioOj
they found a young woman prostrate against a jutting

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tree, wounded, iasennble, with half her body reitiiigt
on a Inrge branch ; by which, it Was evident, that ^he
had been saved from beiiig precipfftated one hundred
feet into the yawning abyss. Th^ rescucid her from
her imminently dangerous poeitidh,''co1Iected a bonnet,
with some other articles of female Winter dress, ahd
without delay transferred her to the attentidns of the
neighboring squaws. -il!^

Diganu determined to remain at Ijorette to await the
result, while Chretien drove to Quebec to procure
medical aid. During the night, »\\e continued totally
unconscious, and apparently in a death like stupor.
Not a memorial was found, by which her niime, place
of abode, or connections could be ascertained ; and it was
not until the morning, when the suri^eon arrived and
bled her. that she exhibited any symptoms of energy. i
Her wounds were pronounced to be slight, but as she
appeared to be in a high fever, it was indispensable ''
that she should remain where she had been first con-
veyed. Diganu and his Cotnpanion engaged to pro-
vide all suitable conveniencies ; and to devote the days ^
of the festival in assisting to restore their patient. ;

How changed the scene! The two thoughtless '
children of vanity sacrificed all their fancied enjoyments
to watch a stranger, whom they ha^ delivered from
destruction, or to a daily ride into Quebec for medical
direction and the necessaries essential for their protegee.
The-close of the holiday approached ; and their sister^ ,
as the youths familiarly denominated her, for she was
evidently of about their own age, still remained in a

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yttnlfcirty delicate copditkm. To 1«ave her was vma*
voidable ; they the||i|^e confided her to the care of two
iquawa. Fr^gaei^y did they visit her as ehe became
convaleecent-j and frhen permitted by the surgeon, they '
conducted her to the city, and placed her where she
could be duly attended and watched.

In reference to every thing personal, she maintained
the most cautious reserve. All their ingenuity, and
Diganu betrayed a peculiar interest in her welfare, was
meffectual to elicit the least erlimpee of her history.
There was a cause however for the deep sympathy
which Diganu especially manifested towards her.
When she was first carried to the Indian cottage ; and
her head was washed to remove the blood which was
upon her face and temples ; at the top of her forehead,
was a small punctured cross, With the letter M perfectly
invisible as the hair was usually worn ; and of course,
known only to herself and to the person who im-
printed it. ^ , 4i44.

.■ ■ ■ ' "•- , ;'•■'■ i!>

Diganu, according to a delusive infatuation among
some of his countrymen, had a place on his crown
shaved, and on this bald spot was also a small cross,
marked «i?ith the letter D. W hen the squaws called the
young men to look at the cross concealed by her hair,
thereby to ascertain the identity of her whom they had
saved from death, Diganu recollected what he had
heen told of his own head, and desired Chretien to ex- .
amine it. The similarity of the figures was so great,
Chat his friend declared j[ they must h»ye been impra?-,,

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M^ by t)ift same person. Sach a coincideneeatany otbef
period would have been^ unooticed — but iu the thet)
state of Diganu^s eiccited feelings, he considered it as
almost miraculous ; and he therefore became addition-
ally interested in the daughter of sorrow, wha had thus
been so fortuitously cast upon bis protection. All the
parties present, the Squaws, the Indians and Chretien,
being then equally super&titious, their varied remarks
only tended to increase the impression upon his mind ;
until he resolved to make any sacrifice for her comfort
and safety.

The two friends at that period were commencing
life on their own basis. Both had just previously en-
tered upon a small business ; and they therefore agreed
aa soon as the patient had fully recovered, to make her
an offer to superintend their little bachelor's establish-
ment. She was to be considered in all points as their
sister ; and to receive all the attentions and endear-
ments of that tender relaticti. But to this proposition,
Louise, as she declared her name, stedfastly objected.
She seemed to hav« an unspeakable aversion to be the
subject of a stranger's scrutiny. Her dislike was finally
vanquished.

Diganu and Chretien, when she felt fully restored,
were discussing with Louise, her future prospects. This
topic, during her milady, had never engaged her atten-
tion. When the subject was ihus distinctly presented
to her consideration, she instantly realized all her de-
pendent and friendless condition. She was deeply

* ,.,■(•

t'-* w

(igilated. Her friends aisurecl her, that their soliciiade
was only for her comlbrt ; and that they would consent
to any arrangement which she would propose) provided
that it was beneficial to herself.

In the course of the interview, she acknowledged
that she was qualified in various ways, to support her-
^If; but she palpitated with tremor, whenever any
plan was suggested, through which she could possibly
be recognised, or even known to any other persons ;
and expressed her hope that the attending Surgeon had
not seen her forehead. This allusion reminded Digann
sind Chretien of the cross ; and they informed her of
the discovery ; but also assured her, that the nurses
only, except themselves, were acquainted with it ; and
that the squawH merely crossed themselves, when the^
saw what they thought the mysteriously good sign upon
her head.

"I propose— said Chretien — that we inspect that
cross again. Your peculiar situation may have deceiv-
ed me ; but if my (pinion was then correct ; I think I
can point you to a sign not less remarkable." .^

After some hesitation ; liouise consented ; and the
cross was still visible in all its distinctness. " What is^
the design of this letter M ?" inquired Diganu.

" I know not — she faintly replied with a blush — no
person has seen it before yourselves, since I first discov-
ered it. The only w^an, who I can think, might

•e^.

'*'-•■ "i^ -l*«*e»i(|

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f ' W '

hK9fi eiplained the mystery, eitbar did not know,
whkb 1 believe most probable, or else ehe coneidered
me too young to be intriuted with the secret.'*

«Eh Wen! well; Diganu— said Chretien—vous
avezraison; you are right." .r.^ . ,; -

" What do you mean '2" asked the anxious Louise.

Chretien then requested her to examine the shorn spot

on niganu'H head : but she had no sooner seen the

tahsmaiiic mark, than she sunk into her dhair almost

/ ' fointiog.

When she was restored ; "Diganu — said Louise—
you have already told me that from a certain sympa-
thy for which you cannot account, you feel peculiarly
^ interested for iny welfare. This remarkable cross

^ stamped upon both of us justifies the confidence that
1 am about to place in you. You will permit me to
maintain all the secrecy I please. I shall neither visit
nor receive visiters ; nor shall I be seen by any of
your associates. Upon these conditions, I will consent
to perform the menial duties of your house."

This arrangement was objected to by Chretien.
•• You have not been used to kitchen business. Your
refined manners — said he — your delicate frame ; your
> soft and white hands ; and your excellent understand-
ing, with yoin- other capacities, prove ; that yoo have
not been and are not qualified to be a household
drudge."

':■■ '«

r"*w%(!<5ss5

*^l have stated — replied lx)ui8e — the only ternn
upon which I will consent to place myself under yoar
protection." »

The next evening was designated for her removal.
When Diganu and Chretien were conversing over this
scheme ; they both agreed, that no other iiuKle was
practicable to preserve Louise from misery. The gloom
upon her mind was very oppressive. Her timidity of
being noticed was unconquerable; at the sauie time
her resolution was so undaunted, that every thmg was
to be dreaded, in case she should be exposed to the same
trial which had already jeoparded her life. Yet, she
had never betrayed, by any intimation, that her near
approach to death at Lorette was voluntary ; and the
only emotion that she exhibited was, when any inquiry
\»as made into her prior history. Her friends therefore
resolved, that they would accept of her services, retain
her secret in all possible privacy ; and permit her to live
as secluded and unknown as she pleased.

Far other ideas occupied the mind of Louise, during
the interval prior to her actual residence with her de*
liverers. Their knowledge of her awful situation at
Lorette; their acquaintance with the mysterious cross on
her forehead ; the similar mark on Diganu's head ; the
rbk of her being discovered ; their doltish subserviency
to their Priest, notwithstanding their better sense <n)d;
principles, combined with their gay and frivolous uim*
pers; and her own hatred and contempt of all the
mummery of their superstitions, embarrassed her judg-

.z'

i'.

5?"

■J^*:

tn«nt ; and had a certain Mcape been practicable, she
andoubtedly would have attempted it To Uve •• she
had done when sick was impossible. It appeared to
her therefore, preferable to rely upon the promises ol
two open hearted young men ; all whose actions, kind*
ness and intercourse had been so benevolent and frater-
nally delicate, than to expose herself to the terrifying
dangers from which she had so recently and marvel-
lously escaped. Under the concealment of darkness,
she left her apartment unobserved, and was intro-
duced to her new habitation. *r.

From the commencement of her abode with her
friends, Louise uniformly refused to eat with them ;
and never admitted herself to be addressed but as their
inferior and servant. At length, howtfver, they noticed
thxt she used no mass book ; and thai she kept no
crucifix ; no images ; no holy water ; no beads ; and no
rosary. These deceitful baubles had been duly pro-
vided for her chamber, but they were all removed ; and
the old cross which hung over the kitchen fire-place
had disappeared, and no vestige of popery remained,
it was determined by her protectors to explore this
mystery.

,*-..

'■'-.. I

t
t

Diganu, being in the kitchen, inquired of Louise ;
'^ What has become of the sacred cross which used to
adorn the mantle peice ?" "You agreed" — replied the
trembling maiden — " to hi me live according to my
own way.

. U.'i :

USS-,

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*' Wo did 80 — said Di^anu— but then we took it for
g(ranted that you belonged to the Holy Roman Ohurch.'^

" You should have asked me that at flrat"— Louise
ivieekly answered — "and my gratitude and candor
would have induced me to confess that I belong to no
visible Church."

" This justifies exactly what Chretien and I have
thought — rejoined Diganu — wo put into your sleeping
apartment, the Mass book, the true image of the Bless*
cd Virgin, and the Holy Crucifix which all good Cath<
olics worship. We also procured some holy water
bought from the priest himself as a great favor ; and a
rosary made by the Nuns and blessed by the Bishop ;
and they are all gone. Mere de Dieu ! priez pour
nous, Mother of God, pray for us. Ah ! Louise : do
vou never use these sacred things ? "

" No — she replied without hesitation — " I burnt the
Mass-book, the Images and the rosary. The water I
cast into the street, and if you knew as much as I d(»of
the Priests and their pretended religion ; you would do
the same." ".'

, • • >.■■.*■

In deep thought, Diganu paused ; but at length
remarked. " I do not comprehend how we shall man*
age this affair." ,

"Very easily — instantly subjoined Louise— you need
not know any thing of ray principles. With my private

/: j'

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opioions, whether right or wrong ; as they will be harm
lesB to you and ChretieD, you have no concern. You
provided for me a number of articles which I deeni|
useless ; and the disposal of them was my own af-
fair." '< But — inquired Diganu — suppose I am asked
about this matter at confession : what shall I answer V

" Tell the Priest, his articles were all safe the last
time you saw them — added Louise — «,nd say no more.
It is enough for you to confess your own sins ; and let
me beg you not to assume my transgressions. Re-
sides, you promised not to let it be kno;..*, if possible^
to the priest, that you Iiad any young woman in youi
house."

•'I suppose then — leraarked Diganu — you will nor
attend confession, do penance, and get absolution froni
the Priest r

" Never — said the weeping giil, with manifest trepi
dation — 'I will never go to the confessional unless I am
dragged there. The ceremony is a farce and delusion,
and it is connected with the greatest wickedness."

Diganu crossed himself, and half shuddered, lie
was sadly bewildered. This was a direct attack made
by a female for whom he felt an indescribable inter
est, upon all his strongest prejudices. In truth he
seriously believed no more of the matter than Louise :
because he had never seriously reflected at all upon the
subject. According to his theology, it was a ver\

■i

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comfortable thiQg to pass away life in a frolic ; to j^y
the Pretre his various claims at the stated festivals ws
long as he lived ; and when he died, to give him the
number of louis d'ors necessary to put him into Hea-
ven. He had never inquired whether either of these
principles or practices was rational or proper or true
or religious. The Pretre announced and enjoined it.
All his associates believed the certainty and justice ol
these notions. Thus the Cure promised ; thus he ad-
mitted and conformed without scruple ; and a suspicion
had never entered his mind, that throughout this whole
process, the Pretre might be leading him into the dun-
geon of eternal despair.

''i

".■;>

It was a merciful interposition of Divine Providence,
ihat these "heretical" sentiments were first uttered in
Diganu's hearing, by the only female for whom he had
ever felt any true respect or attachment. Yet he could
not define the nature of his regard for the mysterious
being who, in such extraordinary circumstances, had
been placed under his care. There was such an art-
less sincerity and candor, such undissembled delicacy,
such infantile simplicity, and yet such a lady like de-
meanor, and such u sisterly confidence in him, ever
displayed by Louise in all her actions, that her influence
unintentionally became irresistible. Chretien perceiv-
ed the fact, and rejoiced. It was a counterbalance to
the buoyancy of Diganu's gay and sanguine tempera-
ment. But when the "heretical" propensities of their
inmate were decidedly avowed by her ; the friends
r)ecame wondrously embarrassed.

. _.C.

*♦•.

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■■■*titkr-

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4:1

Ti^

At that period, the idea of a native Canadian's re-
QUDciation of the Roman faith, was notoaly a novelty,
but a monster. From their diffeient sensations in re-
ference to Louise ; Chretien, although kind and affec-
tionate as a brother, was not^ easily impressed as
Diganu ; and " it is questionable, whether sound poli-
cy — as Chretien remarked— if not our mutual safety
does not require, that Louise should be persuaded, at
least, to attend the Mass."

Several months however had passed away prior to
these troublesome discoveries; and when they were
fully made ; the uninformed opinions, with the tender
solicitudes of the two young men, combined with the
steadfast opposition of Louise to the faith and ceremo-
nies to which they professed to adhere, produced in them
great vacillation. During that whole period, Diganu's
affection assumed a more decisive character ; and hav-
ing obtained Chretien's approbatioi., he resolved to
terminate all future doubt and alarm, by proposing to
her acceptance the matrimonial relation.

The Surgeon whom Chretien had engaged to at-
tend at Lorette, about this time, and prior to the direct,
proffer of marriage, visited Diganu ; and requested in-
^rmation respecting the young woman to whom he
had been called to afford medical aid at the Indian
village ; as the squaws had communicated to one of
the Pretres, the event which had occurred during the
previous winter, and he was directed to ascertain the
fiite of the unfortunate girl. Diganu evaded the sub
ject by a reference to Chretien.

V V .

^..M'-A

«■ »f

That evenings was devoted to an inveatigation of tbe
causes of this suspicious research — but as neither
Piganu nor Chretien could possibly divine any plausi-
ble reason for the Surgeon's mysterious inquiry, after
so long an interval had elapsed ; Louise was apprized
of the fact.

"Then I am lost — she remarked in agony — the
villains will discover me. They will take me from
you, and I shall be miserable." #

<■ . ' ' '

" No authority upon earth shall separate us — answer-
ed Diganu vehemently — if you will put yourself within
my power to protect you, by becoming my wife."

" Wife ! — retorted Louise in extreme unfeigned sur-
prise — I have loved you as a sister. Wife ! — would
you marry misery ? — would you marry a friendless,
outcast, wretched orphan ?" She was so overpowered^
that her conflicting emotions only found relief in a
gush of tears.

As soon as she was in a measure becalmed, Diganu
answered with affectionate sensibility. — *' I care nol
who you are, or what you are. For nearly a year^.
you have been all to me ; and Chretien knows, thai
you are the constant blessing of our lives."
-:ii<*!Sm:: -v ., ■. ■ . • - ^■•.:.

Here Chretien interposed — " When Diganu confided
his intention to me, I expressed to him — and here he
took their right hands and joined them within his own

Sfc'-

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— as I now do to you both, my m«jt cordial approba-
tion — and crossing himself, he added — Sainte Mere
de Dieu ! ayez pitie de nous: Holy mother of God^
have mercy upon us !"

Louise blushed ; trembled ; hesitated ; but at length
replied — "if no other means nin be devised to preserve
me from my persecutors and dar.gers, 1 will place my
future comfort in your hands."

• 4 .

This preliminary being satisfactorily adjusted ; it
now became essential to prepare Chretien for the pro-
posed interview with the Surgeon. Louise imparted
no additional information. It was her unalterable pur-
pose, never more to return whence she had escaped ;
and rather than experience this calan ity — "if no other
mode exists to avert the horrors I anticipate — she
said, and her convulsed movements proved them to be no
fiction— I would fly to the end of the earth and suffer
every possible torture ; trusting in the mercy of that
God who already has permitted you once to deliver me
from going down to the pit, and by whose blessing
upon the reading of his word — for she had procured a
Bible, although her friends understood not her meaning
— I begin to enjoy some hope of hie pardoning love."

It was finally resolved, that her place of abode should
be concealed, and all acknowledgment of any present
acquaintance with her be eluded, by a reference to the
person with whom she stopped after her arrival in
Quebec from Lorette. So well contrived had been her

'-v:

•T-.

• 4

aacr«t depariura, that when Diganu and Chretien adM
to inquire for Louise, the mistress expressed great alarm i
at her absence, and declared her total ignorance of the
time and manner of her disappearance. To that
nurse it was agreed therefore, that Chretien should di-
rect the Surgeon ; and it was hoped, that her reply to
the call weuld preclude all future inquiry.

The plot partially succeeded ; for when Diganu and
the Surgeon applied to the nurse with whom she had
lodged, the woman unhesitatingly afiirmed ; *< that
Louise had escaped in a dark night, that the young
men had often made inquiries for her, and that she
could never discover any trace of the girl since that
day."

But who can fathom the depths of a Jesuit ? Who
can comprehend all his artifices, malignity, and wiles ?
How can a Roman withstand the usurped supremacy
of his Priest ? — A mariced difference was manifest in
Diganu's character ; he had lost his thoughtless hilarity,
and was distinguished for his gravity, attention to husi-
ness, and indifference to his former associates. This
change was imputed by the ordinary citizens to his
love of money ; but the crafty Priests suspected some
other motive, and instantly resolved to penetrate th«
secret.

Knowing that theseasons of Canadian festive amuse-
ment and of social merriment are the periods when
men, and especially youth are most unguarded ; they

■'V

■■^r '

'.■■';^^;:

■ hopedf diving the Christinas camaval to ensnare him;
but Diganu was also on the watch. Louise had been
able to communicate to him a very small portion only
of evpagelical wisdom — yet it had induced him primari-
ly to doubt, then to disbelieve, and finally to reject all
the vicious catalogue of papal traditions ; although he
continued to exhibit an exterior respect for the ceremo
nial mummery of the Mass.

The Priests speedily marked him as a person " sus~
y Ipected of heretical pravity," and combined to entrap

him. As a tool for their conspiracy, they employed the
r mercenary Surgeon ; and a strict inspection was con-

stantly maintained upon all Diganu's niovements.

V -I

On New Year's day, the two friends resolved to
ride to Lorette, and there to retrace the events of the
former festivalt While absent on, their excursion,
the Surgeon called, under the pretext of presenting
the customary salutation, and saw Louise, with-
out recognising her in the specious disguise, or rath-
er incongruous dress which she always wore to elude
the possibility of being identified. But the fact, that
there was a servant girl living with Diganu and Chre
tien impelled additional inquiry, and it was determined
by the Priests to pursue the search.

Not long after, the Chaplain of the Ho::p'tal Nun-
nery induced the woman with whom Louise had
boarded after her removal from Lorette to duebec, to
enter Diganu's apartments during his absence ; but so

-<f»rw»lf5S"J** «■"'■■

v!,=^-

.is

^■^■

completely altered was liouise by her uncbuth and low*
ly dress and her assumed ignorance and rusticity, that
the Nurse knew her not ; and in very peremptory terms
reported to her Priest — "there is not the smallest resera-
Uance in any respect between the sweet young Lady
who was in ray house, and the ugly paysanne whom
I saw there."

3^j

.1 1

Louise instantly perceived that the object was mere-
ly to ascertain the reality of her residence with her
friends ; and thus was induced to consent without
further hesitancy, to the nuptial union proposed by
Diganu. The Lent had partly elapsed, and the day
of the marriage ceremony was fixed about the earliest
period allowed by the Romish canons ; for then there
was no Protestant Minister in Quebec.

At this juncture, a strange Priest entered the house,
and his remarkable appearance not only attracted
Diganu's attention, but impressed him with deep fear-
'fiilness. He detailed, with all minute exactness, the
disappearance of a young novice from the care of the
Nuns at Point aux Trembles ; stated, that she hai^
been traced to the Indian village of Lorette ; that i^
was supposed, she had there been robbed and otherwist
ill treated ; that she had subsequently been seen iA
Quebec ; and that the Surgeon, who had been seal
for, to visit her, had affirmed, that Diganu and anolli«|p
young man named (Chretien who dwelt together, faMj,
been guilty of enticing her away from the protectiii^.^ !
of the Religieusas ; ^ad that having inflicted upoQ'l«y\ ;

•- »••*!

(! ,

the most atrocious injuries, they had discarded her, and
left her to perish, or had secretly murdered their victim.

'- '■ ■*■ -■» tj ■■-.
While, with all menacing indignation, he was ve*
hemently unfolding this dread tule, and intermingling
the utmost Jesuitical finesse to insnare Diganu, (^hretien
entered. They both denied the application of the nar-
rative, in whole and in part. By prior concert, with-
out doubt, the surgeon also appeared ; and confirmed
that yart of the statement, in reference to his being
desired by Chretien to visit a young female who was
discovered at Lorette wounded, and in a very distressful
condition. The surgeon also added — " the only way
by which she can be identified, as the Squaws infor-
med me, is by a small cross immediately at the top of
her forehead." At the mention of this particular mark,
the Pretre fixed upon Diganu one of those withering
portentous looks which a Jesuit or a Dominican only
can infuse into the human countenance. The attempt
was vain ; for it excited no alarm ; and from conscious
innocence, the two friends betrayed not the least
emotion. ,..^.. ...

" Ah ! — said the Pretre — I perceive that you are har-
dened in your iniquity, and hope to escape the censures
of the Church, and the arm of Justice ; but to let you
know that I am acquainted with all your secrets — and
he uttered a tremendous oath — remember the cross on
thy own head ; thou disguised heretic !" — He arose,
and witfiout another word, accompanied by the surgeon,
instantly departed. ' ^V-

^'^''^A

<A!,f.

- >. • -

■s

•m

,i » r

There was a cold-blooded, malignant apathy in the
voice and countenance of the Priest, the diilling eflfrcts
of which, all their efforts to resume fortitude could not
repel. The painful sensations which they realized,
were forcibly aggravated by Louise, who entered soon
after the disapiifurance of the Priest, and whose fea-
tures wofully displayed all the anguish which lacerated
her soul.

" I am lost — I am lost — at length, she said, in a fear-
>ful tone — it is all ended — nothing can save me."

Every attempt to soothe her was vain ; and the only
thing which in any measure appeared to Arfiaure hef,
was the reiterated promise by Cvhretien, that death or
iiresistiltle lawless violence alone should separate her
from I Mganu. She requested again to examine the
cross to which the Priest adverted, and having beheld
it for a moment, she recoiled with terror — *• Rely'upon it,
Diganu — slie uttered, apparently almost suffocated —
we shall never be united." ,

Chretien again attempted to appease her heart-rend-
ing distress Mid his friend's agony, with this consola-
tion. — " Fear not — said he — force only shall derange
the plans to which you have consented."

Diganu also avowed his unalterable resolution to
sacrifice every thing in her defence, provided Louise
would confide to him the cause of her sorrows and
anxieties. Aa it had been arranged that they should

/-'^■"N-

-.*--..

■¥

--■■}■

be married at Lorette, she promised, on the last night
prior to their union, should it occur, to divulge to him
and to Chretien her previous history.

When Chretien went to Lorette to acquaint the
Priest of the Indian village of his desired attendance
to perform the ceremony, and virhen Diganu's name
was mentioned as the bridegroom ; a ghastly expres-
sive leer filled the face of the Priest, wHicli to ihe youth
portended no good to his friends. Upon liiis i«)turn to
Quebec, he therefore strongly remonstrated against the
place, the time, and the Priest; and dissuaded them
from waiting until that day, and much more from
oroceedins to Lorette, for the solemnization of their
nuptials. Louise however determined those points, by
remarking — " If we are to be uuiied, the time, place
or Priest makes no diflference. Such is the intimate
connection and secret understanding among them all ;
that if any deed of darkness, which I have too much
reanon to dread, is to t)e performed ; I should prefer
Lorette to any other spot for the execution of their
wicked purposes. To escape out of the Province is
impossible. It is therefore of no importance ; for if
Divine Providence interposes on my behalf, it will be
every where ; and if 1 am to be sacrificed, the Lord'e
will be done."

•y

Her alaj^m and resignation, the conjunction of which
neither Diganu nor Chretien could accurately compre-

, hend, aggravated their disquietude and anxiety ; which
were not alleviated, by their perceiving, ttiat a strange

\|^est| with his unknown companion, seemed (o be

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constantly watching all their motions. Thoie spies,
%is they frequently passed the hoube, especially stopped
when near it, and appeared to be prying keenly as if to
discover all their concerns and visitors ; and they were
also noticed not to cease their scrutiny even after the
day had ended. " ' '^T - "^*

On the third day prior to the intended marriage,
while pursuing their business, Diganu and Chretien
fancied, that they had seen iu the street, one of the
Indian women who had nursed Louise during her
sickness at Lorette ; and were stmngely agitated at
iheir dinner, when they were informed by Louise, that
the Squaw had forced herself unceremoniously into the
house ; and notwithstanding every attempt to conceal
herself, and to elude recognition ; that the Indian
woman had gone away, resolutely maintaining, that
she was the very same person who had been found at
liOiette, and that she Icnew her amid all her disguise.

f^'.;;

sTV

(■ >-a>-

Fatuity itself could not possibly suppose, from the
peculiar season, of her rude visit to an unknown dwell-
^ ing, that this rencontre was either fortuitous or unin-
tentional. Diganu and Chretien both urged Louise
to change the place where the ceremony should be per-
formed. She remained inflexible on that point ; assur-
ing them, as she said — " the result will not be altered
by any scheme which we can devise or effect ; and I
am convinced, when you shall have heard my tale,
your opinions and mine will perfectly agree."

'^;m

.•m

^^jt-

Tilt pvtin met at the cloee of the last day ; for

Louiae had expressly stipulated that Chretien should

be present ; and to their profound astonishment, she waa

arrayed in the same dress in which they had first be<

held her. Diganu and his friend were deeply affected.

The former felt entirely enervated with the weight of

his recollections, his fears, and his expectations.

" You will excuse my clothing — said the timid sob-
bing girl — it will be my bridal array : and it was the
most suitable for me to appear in, while unfolding the
causes of our first meeting, with all its pleasing and
painful consequences." ,

Diganu seated himself by her side. As he took her
hand, she leaned her head on his shoulder — "you must
not look at me — she remarked — while I tell you my
short but sorrowful history. Our relative situation re-
quires this sacrifice of my feelings in honour and duty
(oyou ; and the care, tenderness, delicacy and affection
vrhich you both have ever manifested towards me,
encourages this confidence in you. If we are for
ciUy separated^ — and a sigh, which escaped from each
expressed their mutual anxiety — my tale will teach
you to lament your lust companion ; and if we should
be united, it will prove, that you may ever confide in
the sincerity and faithful attachment of your Louise."

During the pause which ensued, while Louise was
epdeavoring to summon fortitude for the detail vhicb
her fHends weire so anxiously expecting, a knock was
heard at the door. Chretien answered the call ; and re-

.''i'<!^'

• 1

••).Afimt;

^ m m m *

turned wiih a latter for Diganu. Upon •lamining
the mipencriptien, k developed -» female'i chirographjr.
LouiM had no sooner glanced at the envelope, than the
was seized with an involuntary convulsive shuddering.
When the fit had partially subsided, she faintly articu-
lated. — " I know that writing and seal. I have seen
it once before. It is the harbinger of my misery." Af-
ter a long pause, with the profound silence of her two
friends, she added, — "but I bless Ood, that if he permits
my tormentors to ^ake me wretched, he has given me
grace to resist all their arts to render me criminal."

Diganu having read the letter, presented it to Chretien
for his perusal. During this interval, the former impa
tiently traversed the room, absorbed in thought ; and
when his friend restored him the ominous scroll, he
motioned his hand that Louise might inspect its mys'
terious contents. Both were too overpowered to speak.
Louise examined the sheet with varying features ; and
when her first powerful excitement had passed away,
she was less agitated than could have been supposed.
Uer feelings speedily assumed the character of a settled
purpose, to submit, with all possible fortitude, to the ca-
lamity which in her judgment was clearly inevita-
ble. At length; she thus interrupted the silence.
''My sensibilities always told me, Diganu, that you
were indulging chimerical hopes respecting our union;
and however unaccountable the fact; ray affection
for you is of a totally diferent quality, from that which
nature dictates to me, I should have felt for Chretien,
had circumstances and our mutual inclinations induced

rv.

/ 'V

,ya^,Jt**„;>t;.:N';i>V -,,

■■■■r. ,

i*>

him to hare made me a proffer of his hand and heart.
But it is now too late to reverse the past ; and not less
impossible to change the manifest certainties of the fu-
ture." ' '■'^:-":'uj

Before Louise commenced her narrative, Chretien
proposed to discuss the contents of the letter, and to de-
cide upon its intimations. Th© sheet wis perfectly
anonymous ; it unveiled neither place, date nor signa-
ture ; and was obviously written with great delibera-
tion. Its contents follow.

To DiGANU.

You are surrounded with dangers. It has been as-
certained that you have livmg with you a young wo-
man called Louise ; and that you are to be married
after Easter. She never can be your wife. Pauvres
miserables ! Poor wretches ! You are in a labyrinth,
and cannot be extricated. The only mode of '^•'cape
would be by fleeing from the Provinc«i; but that
now is impossible. You are watched by day and
by night; and any attempt to elope would ensure
your own death, with that of Louise and your friend
Chretien. Not only would you all three be murdered,
but no vestige of you would be found, and no inquiry
would be made after you. It is impossible to avoid it.
You and Louise shall be separated. If you do not
present yourselves for the marriage ceremony as pro
posed, Louise will be taken from youi' house on that eve
ning by force, and the consequences of attempting to
protect her, will be horrible. But remember ; if you

v.T!j.'ti'^>a(t*,-

'Mmu.

,w*'-

proceed to Lorette to be united ; she will be taken from
you at the Altar. Do not offend the Holy Priests.
Believe what they tell you. Do just as they say ;
and all will yet be well."

"Stop! Chretien — said Louise hastily — let me
think for a moment." After a pause, she thus continu-
ed — "those are the very words which were in the let-
ter that I received in the same hand-writing. There
must be some wonderful mystery in this matter."

Chretien proceeded to read — " It is of no use to resist.
You will thereby only injure ycurself, increase sorrow
for liOuise, find iiivolve your friend in distress. Louise
has offended the < /hurch. She is dtron^ly suspected to
he a heretic. Some time ago, she was excomniuiucated.
She will liave to undergo very deep penance, before sh^
will be restored to the bosom of our holy Mother."

Louise could not restrain her Christian indignation.
" All the plagues pronounced in the eighteenth chapter
of the Revelation be upon your holy Mother ! — she
proclaimed with great energy — thanks be unto God, I
despise your excommunications ; and as for your deceit-
ful penance, I would rather brave the martyr's fire^
than join in your abominations and idolatry."

" Not so fast — interposed Chretien — how can you,
an inexperienced solitary girl set up your judgment
against the iofallibiiity of the Roman Church and his
holiaess the Pope ?"

iff

*^ M

-..■i;X

" Noasense ! — retorted Louise — they are infallible in
nothing but impiety and wickedness. Pardon my in-
terruption ; this is no time for religious discussion ; but 1
could not repress the sudden excitement of my contemp-
tuous feelings, for such a base effort to outrage my chris-
tian principles, and disgrace my personal character."

Chretien pursued his reading. — '* You also are be
ginning to be suspected of heresy, because you have
encouraged her. She has great sins to atone for in
disobeying the Priests. She has lost the Itenefit of the
cross on her forehead by depiirliiig from the Church.
Take care ; for by receiving her opinions, you will blot
out the cross on your own head, and thus rush into
misery. You know that if we do not do as the Priests
order us, we shall not have their pardon and unction
when we die, nor shall we obtain the comfort of their
masHcs ill another world. Be up^m your guard. Give
up Louise at once, peaceably. Tfike care of yourself
Keep away from heretics. Hearken to the Priests:
and then you will be happy.

This reference to the crosses imprinted upon Louise
and Diganu, rendered the information conveyed by
their anonymous correspondent more alarming — be>
cause it assuredly implied an acquaintance with i^ouise
and Diganu and their prior life, of the very early parts
of which they themselves were altogether ignorant.
The only particular which either Digunu or Louise
held ever explained to each other, was in reference to

.. 1

V--7-- -•--

-T'-.yr3^:y^xz u:: s m*<^ ' '-'-

the expression of Louise, when the proposal of mar-
riajsre was so abruptly but formally made ; and when
she described herself as a " wretched orphan." I >n a
subsequent occasion,, Diganu remarked — " this can be
no objection. I am an orphan too; and never knew
what the intercourse or feelings of friendship and affec-
tion were, except Jviih you and Chretien."

When he had concluded the letter, Chretien remark-
ed — " We cannot live long in this state of alarm and
uncertainty ; but the alternatives seem so dreadful,
that of the three, I am inclined to adopt the plan of
self-defence : to delay your marriage for a short period,
to provide a safe-guard, and to keep as much in the
house as possible."

Diganu observed — " This plan is impracticable.
Duty often culls me from home ; you are generally
away during the hours of business ; in whom could we
confide V " Nobody — answered t hretien — but what
do you think of an application to the Governor V ''The
Governor ? — exclaimed Louise — he would not dare to
do any thing in reference to the matter, except as the
Bishop and the Priests direct. Besides the continual
alarms and fears would be more afflictive than the
reality. One i^ sudden calamity ; the other would be
never ending bitterness, with additional danger in the
end, for no advantage."

Chretien however was dissatisfied, and again inquir-
ed — " Is there not one person to be trusted !'" " 1 be-
lieve not — replied Diganu — who beaisa higher charac-

Hik-

ter for honor, ^thai* the Doctor? and yet circum*
stances convince me, that he has been the main-spring
of this treacherous plot against lu. Besides, could I
even trust in your fidelity, Chretien, if the Pretre
ordered you to betray us." «J

The question was apropos. His unreserved sub<
jection to a Jesuit ; the endeared claims of friendship
from childhood ; and the sacred obligations of honor
and duty, all were here at once arrayed together in
direct collision. Louise half smiled in her tears, as
she contemplated the internal conflict which agitated
Chretien. ' ^i.?.

With great embarrassment, after a long pause, he
replied — " You know, Diganu, I could not disobey the
Priest without risking the salvation of my soul."

" Eh bien ! very well — rejoined Diganu — We are
bound together by worldly interest ; by long confident
(ial familiarity ; by domestic residence ; and by al<
most brotherly ties — and yet if that Pretre who was
here before, came and demanded Louise during my ab-
sence, you would give her into his power ; or if he now
entered with seme ruffians to seize her by force, in-
stead of resisting him and defending me, you would
unite with him at his command to rob me of ray
greatest earthly comfort." . -v, ; -. .

" No, no, indeed ! answered his aatounded friend,
startled at this picture of treachery and priestly despo-
tiaU'-'^I coHld not betray and desert you.''

W-r 4-

'■^ .'

"^ Ah, my friend ! — remarked Louise, very tenderly-^
you know not 3'our8elf. Much as I respect your pria:
oiples and spirit; I know your frailty in this point.
You would not consider yourself in that case as per-
fidious or cruel. It would be a mere fulfilment of a
duty consecrated by your fancied religion in its most
authoritative claims. 1 cannot trust you. It would
certainly destroy Diganu, and only endanger yourself.''

Ai ii

'•H:J.;

(> >>•».!•

Chretien appeared to be vexed at her suspicions
and want of confidence — "be not displeased — she
subjoined, kindly offering him her hand — I judge from
myself. Three years since, I should as readily have
obeyed a Priest's command in every thing, as I should
now obstinately refuse to comply with it." ., , , ;^„^

"Louise is correct — remarked Diganu — twelve
months ago, I am certain that there is no action how-
ever wicked,which could have been committed without
the cerfainty of an ignominious punishment by law;
that I should not have performed, if the Pretre had
enjoined it. I should have risked any thing to fulfil
disorders, confident that he was able to save me from
all trouble."

In this declaration, Chretien acquiesced ; and Louise
therefore speedily convinced them, that it was prefer-
af)le for one to sufifer than all ; that her condiiion at
the worst could not be more afflii^ive and peiilotis. than
when they first saw her ; that If would only aggiavate
her sorrows to know, that her beloved friends were also

■A.'

..^,p

■*''

apOBtd to the Priest's ruthless spite ; that it was fat
more safe to terminate their perplexities without delay ;
that if their fears were unauthorised, their future coin^
fwt Would only be increased after their disquietudes
had vanished ; and that therefore to Lorette they would
proceed in the morning n& already arranged. "*•'

^ie interruption occasioned by the letter, and the
tttibsequent conversation had partially stengthened
Louise for her promised engagement. From the final
acquiescence of her friends in her decision, she had felt
encouraged ; and silently casting all her cares upon
God who careth for those who trust in him, and men-
tally invoking his grace and protection ; she once more
composed herself by tlic side of Diganu to narrate her
former experience^

fell ^1j:;i^? ''.i' i: .!r^.f:'i;'' • " •', • . 's

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it was fat
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the final
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■ ■ -V"

1:4

«»tlo >o .'Yiun^ tv a?»BfV

1 NARRATIVE BY LOUISE '

.i\

SJil

[HH.H

At last, while bitter tears I shed,
To ticaven I raised my prayer,

And found, when earthly joys are fled,
There still is comfort there.

] 'ill., 'ji ;a5J)

'.J.

.''(-:

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:;< ir

;' 'V a/sy

" I am totally ignorant — Louise stated — of my pa
lents, my birth-place, and my age. I was never ad-
dressed except as Louise; and never permitted to
assume any name but Ijouise M. My earliest recollec-
tion is connected with Point aux Trebles. I re-
member a farmer's wife with whom I lived ; and also
a Nun, who often canie to the house, and engaged my
childish attachment, by giving me trinkets and sweet-
meats. I was early taught to read, write, and sew, by
this Nun ; and continued there, after my first impres-
g>ions, al)out four years, when I was sent to the Ursu-
line Nunnery at Quebec, and was duly instructed in
every art which is there used. My old friend the Nun
i saw very frequently ; out as I grew up, she appeared
to feel little or no interest in me. I made tolerable
proficiency, and was declared rather tall and womanish
for my age, which was never communicated to me.
I consider myself, however, to be about twenty years
old, but I cannot speak with precision.

^' It is now nearly five years ago, thai I was rcpiovei

\x:^

^>'

back to Poitit aux Tretnblesi and was employed for twe-
years in a variety of offices about that establisiimenl
oftheReligieuses. During this period^ my mind was
in constant training by the Nuns and the Preftes. The
whole course of the ceremonies, and all the exact rou-
tine of the forms of the Missal, I attended with the
most scrupulous regularity, and the least known devia-
tion would have made me wretched. To the authority
of the holy church, and to the lofty character and ffod-
iike power of the Priests to command, pardon, save and
curse the people here and forever, I bowed down with
the most implicit belief, and with the completest submis-*
sion ; and with a full persuasion that in complying
w^ith the Pretre's wishes, I wjis fulfilling i he law of God.
Hints were often give me, that I must become a nun ;
and all the superior virtue and wonderful sanctity of
that mode of life were constantly set before me in the
most enchanting colors. The ihird year of my resi-
dence had neaily elapsed ; and it was proposed, that the
next year should be devoted by me to all thosQ pursuit^^
which would enable me to enter upon my Noviciate,
and speedily to attain the honors, as they impiously
term it, of the "angelic" life. It was at this crisis,
that the change in my little affairs occurred which has
been so cxterual'ly afflictive, and so consolatory in
heart. ,

^ « ^ a short distance from the convent, resided an
old decrepid wonian who had migrated from Guernsey.
She was little known ; and her age, and infirmities and
isolated condition excused her from much intercourse

...■srai«5»!ss*<>*««*«w**

-f^-r-mtst-z.'-

wiih tlie neighboring^ people, i was ofteu sent to visit
her, to inquire into her condition, and to carry her tri-
fling articles of clothing and food. She gradually de>
clined ; and it was clearly perceptible, that her decease
was not very distant. C)n one occasion when we were
alone — " Ma chere, my dear ! said Marguerite-^I hear
bad news concerning you." " \;>.f^ ' ;•'.

"What do you mean !" was my reply. < ' ^.'^

"I am told — she continued — that, you are going into
(he nunnery, after a little while ; and I am sorry for it."

"Why? — I asked — They say that a Nun passes
the most holy, peaceful and heavenly Ufe possible."

" Ah ! ma chere, my dear — she uttered with much
feeling — vous vous etes meprise, you are intirely mis»
taken. It is the most miserable, and the most guilty
life in the world." , ' ..^

'■'- J... r,,;4.

" How can that be ? — I inquired — What do you
know of Convents?" . , ,

" I was born in France— she replied—l have seen
much of the world ; and if you will not tell my history
Cb any person until after I am buried, you shall hear
something which Marguerite has seen."

The promise was made. « I was formerly and for

many yoars—tho old woman informed me~>a menial

^I 'M ' i iii a i suJj n

■ K 'l nllTi iiaii. ^, ..,

V '

f.: ' '^■**

servant about a convent in Finncc, add the evila wliicfi
were practised within iie walls exceed all belief. At
last, I began to- consider whether it was possible for a
religion to be true and from God, which allowed such
wicked doings. Ah ! ces Pretres Jesuites—said the
emaciated Christian, with nil the energy which she
was capable to exert— s'il y a un Diable sur la terre,
ceux-ci le sont. Ah ! those Jesuit priests ; if there is o
devil upon earth, they are he." , ■.

" I contrived- to leave Normandy, and cross over to
Guernsey ; and there i resided, until I came to thii;
country. I have been among tlie same people in Cana-
da. They are all alike, not quite so bad here, because
they are more scattered, among fewer people, easier
noticed, and a little afraid of the Protestant Govern
ment.

" My prejudices — remarked Louise— as you may
well suppose, were all excited; and in my heart, I
wished the old widow every possible curse. She . saw
my opinions in my wrathful countenance, and allayed
ray anger by her remarks — " You dislike to hear these
things now — said Marguerite — ^so did I once. 1 had
been taught by my Mother, that the Priest was in God's
place ; that the Pope had the command of Heaven,
^artb, and Hell ; and that the Abbes, the Cures, and
the Pretres must be feared and obeyed' in every thingj
or we should be miserable in this world avid in the next
Thus I grew up to maturity, as docile, and as submis<
sive to the PrieH as my neighbors \ and like them, not

,x^u^..

'■3 " '

■' -(?*8B*W3ir«:w----^

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ved suck fl

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i over to 1

) to thii- fl

n Cana- 1

because ■

, easier 4m

Govern |l

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lieart, I 1

he saw ■

allayed W

ir these 9

] had 1

n God's 1
leaven, 1

•es, and §

' things ;;

le next

mbmis' M

cm, not » M

less self-willed and diaebedient towards God. Wheft
I became a young woman ; I went into the service <tf
a gentleman who never went to Mass, or Confession.
He was a rich man ; and the Priest allowed him a
constant dispensation for disobeying all the laws of the
Church for a good sum of money, which was paid
every year. I have often heard him tell among his
friends when they visited him, in what way the Priests
maintained their power and hood-winked the people^
It is almost all done at Confession, and through the
women. Children are taught from their infancy, that
all persons out of the Church will be accursed. The
boys ai-e retained in bondage, by ignorance, or fear, ui'
interest, or their connections, or indifference, or corrupt
tion and participation in crime ; for as they can buy
absolution for all sins, they can practise every vice, and
by a little money, or by serving the Priests, they can
blot out all the account against them.

"But even all these schemes would not complete the
design, without the aid of the women. They are
therefore trained with all care into passive obedience and
non-resistance to the Priest . They are made to believe ;
that every thing is true which he says, and that every
t hing is proper which he desires. This dreadfully wick-
ed doctrine is sanctioned by the assurance, that he can
pardon every sin ; and that without his good-will, no
person will go to Heaven. Under this influence, the
women are all entangled. The Priest, by confessioni
discovers all their inclinations and thoughts. He then
Aoldis the rod over them to force them to his own tin*'

". rl

•ifj

■ ■>£

'• V 9 ^0 ^'''»"-** '

godly purposes. Ah f ma chore, pieuo^ garde ; my
dear, take care. Watch around you. Look at every
thing. Do not be afraid to examine for yourself
Above all things, never become a nun. In my coun-
try, the Pretres could tell some wonderful stories about
the convents ; and unless I am mistaken ; many
a dismal, wicked, and bloody history would be found
out in Canada ; if all the Priests were not in a league
to help each other, and keep their mutual secrets. They
ilrst make the women sinners, and then so frighten
them, tliat they dare not expose their scandalous prac-
tices. Once, a modest young woman used to come
here, who went into a Nunnery by the order of two
Priests, after she had a child by each of them. What
is become of them, I never could hear ; but the last
time I saw her, she was one of the worst and most im-
pudent creatures, I ever heard talk." . .!;;•

1 1

"At this partof Marguerite's narrative — said Louise;
my attention was deeply arrested ; for I fancied, that I
could perceive a resemblance in this trait, between the
Nun who so many years before had been so kind to
me, and her demeanor at our last interview. , , , .,

"The feeble Christian woman continued — "I left
the Roman Church in Guernsey — as 1 have always
been ailing ; and nobody canid much about me, I have
oontrived to live here without being discovered and
persecuted. Ma chere ! my dear, how old are you 1"

" To this question — remarked Louise — I could only
atTsfver — "I have never heard, I cannot tell."

•fJ-'rfnT'

4-sr

'< l^a it is aa I have long suspected — added Hat-
guerite — mais n' importe, no matter. You are just now
at the right age^ and bold the very fittest sentiments to
be the subject for a Priest's stratagem. Hearken to a
dying woman who can have no interest in deceiving
you ; 1 may not have strength or another opportunity
to give you my advice. When a Priest ofiers to violate
your modesty, whether by force, or by enticement, or by
his pretended priestly authority, or by JeKuitical finesse ;
attempting to persuade you that vice is virtue, or to pal-
liate sin under the pretext uf° his power to absolve you,
and his ability to render you is pure, as if you had
never known defilement ; I ten not to him even for a
moment. Bear all privations ; and submit to every
torture, rather than voluntarily yield to his seductive
wiles or his menacing intimidations.*'

''I was so shocked at these insinuations — Louise re-
marked — that I could scarcely believe my ears, or ad-
mit that the old \vi<low had not wandered out of her
senses into a delirium. When 1 had recovered from
my surprise and confusion : I asked her tremulously,
"is it possible such things can be true t" ' .« ;rfjf i?%<m:n

" As true— Marguerite replied — as that I am upon
the very verge of eternity ; and from vfery indistinct
recollections of past things, which you have brought
afresh to my mind ; if you are not the daughter of a
Priest and a Nun, then I am much deceived." < u

■ ^This operated upon me— ^id Louise-^like a

AVf'

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ii Nr wiiS ^ ^i i i* 'ti »-.

■>. I,— I . ti n ii ji i 11 » -«««m»nip)|

'V-- .- *■ ■

charm ; and I endeavored to dncover the secrets con-
nected with n»y infancy; but my effort was vain.
The old woman either knew nothing certain upon the
subject ; or she thought it preferable not, from suepi-
cbn only, to expose me to jeopardy and trouble."

^^ Having repeated her advice and warning to me in
a mo8t impressive manner, and again exacted my so-
lemn promise to retain her secret — " I would give you,
my dear ! — tiuiijoined Marguerite — my bible ; but now
it will do you no good. You could not read and keep
it. It has long been my only comfort, as it first also
taught me the way of piety and peace. I shall leave
it to the orphan child whom 1 have adopted, with all
mv other trifles, if the (Jure steals and burns the
blessed book, his shall be the sin. I thank God, that I
was enabled to place the l)oy in comtbit in Q,uebec«
where the Priests will never have any power over him.
When you have experienced, as I foresee you will, the
fulfilment of my worst su£$picions ; and when you think
of your present religion as I now do ; if you can — 'and
her heart- melting tones, with her affecting, pathetic and
tender looks will never be forgotten — procure a New
Testament. O read it ! O pray for wisdom from God
to understand it ! and you will do as I have long ago
done. You Will burn the cru^sifix, the images, the
rosai'y and the missal, with all the other deceitful relics
of idolatry ; and then prepare for sorrow and persecution.
But stand fast in your purity — grasping my hand
with all her strength — and God will deliver you !"

'M:

"y*.

■"■"■■iff*

*< I listened to Marguerite — said Louise — with great
interest Her emaciated appearance, and the deep
toned pathos and solemnity with which she thus un-
veiled her true character ; the causes of the change
wrought in her principles and conduct ; the personal
application of subjects to myself of which I never before
had formed a distinct idea ; the appalling precipice on
which she represented me as standing, ready to plunge
into the abyss of irrecoverable degradation and crime ;
the new light in which all that I had deemed sacred
was presented to me, as arrayed in the most depraved
and most loathsome deformity ; and her prophetic cau-
tions and intimations produced a complicated thought-
fulness and tremor, which I had never before reaUsed.

''As some other visitor a|:)proached ; she took my hand
again; once more received my double promise to retain
her secret, and watch for my own security ; and there
our intercourse ended.

"Duringtheremainingdaysof her mortal existence no
opportunity occurreti to exchange more than the speak-
ing features and our united hands could communicate,
but it appeared to console her. The little that she ut-
tered was in very cautious language ; that her true
religious opinions might not expose her to vexation while
living, and her mortal remains to insult after her spirit
had winged its flight to Paradise. I thought even then,
that her expressions differed from our common phrases ;
but blind as I was, like all the people there, I did not
comprehend her true meaning ; now I think ( under-
stand what she intended. When she spoke of repent-

.*■

Mf6e towards God; t supposi^lhd^tid dioh^ nil ne^
pfenance. She talked of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,
as the rock of her hopes ; and we naturally but very
^upidly applied it to the Pope, and Peter, and the
Tirgin Mary. When she mentioned the comfort that
she felt in knowing that her "transgressions were for-
given, and that her sin was covered ;" we of course in-
terpreted it of the Pretre's plenary absolutioii. She
fold us of " seeing Jesus ;" and we fancied that she was
Iboking at the crucifix ! — Ah ! my friends ; how blind
we are, who are thus brought up urider Roman Priests?
well may we always pray : " O Lord, turn us from
darkness to hght ; open our eyes that we may behold
wondrous things out of thy law !'l " '

" Providentially for Marguerite, the Cure was absent
<luring the last days of her existence ; and only return-
6d in time to administer his extreme unctidn ; when the
dying believer was totally unconscious of all things
external. About the end of his soul-deceiving cere-
mony, she breathed no mwe.

' After her interment ; her Bible was found ; and
well do 1 recollect the fury which it produced. The
Cure raged like a madman ; and his silly followers all
Vented their n^isy execrations. Marguerite's hypocrisy
and heresy, with the lamentations of her neighbors for
their kindness vwA attentions to the helpless and dying
heretic, were permanent themes of discussion, until
time alone allayed the storm. I was frequently ques-
tioned about ht))' Bible by the Priest and Nuns : but I

,-.)f'-"

Jl needful
usChrist,
bat very
and the
mfort that
3 were for-
course in-
ioii. She
at she wag
how blind
anPrieste?
1 us from
ly behold

" yicti-

vas absent
ily return-
when the
all things
viug cere-

und; and
ed. The
lowers all
hypocrisy
ghbors foe
ind dying
ion, until
ntly ques-
ins : but t

pleaded perfect ignorance of the matter, and denied
that I had ever teen it, which was true. It was finally
concluded, that what a Jesuit^ with all hii eagle^yed
and sleepless perspicacity, and Nuns, with all their ex-
quisite cunning craftiness, could not discover, would
not be discerned by an unsuspecting girl, who had
never heard of la sainte Bible, or le nouveau Tes-
tament ; the holy Bible or the New Testament,
" Female curiosity powerfully impelled me ; and I be-
gan to feel a restless uneasiness, from the |n«>vel sub^
jects which Marguerite had presented to my contem-
plation. My time was partly appropriated to visitF
umong the different Nuns in Quebec ; tSiat I might
become fully initiated in all the routine which would
devolve upon me, when I was placed upon my Novici-
ate. The scenes which I witnessed certainly would
7;ave attracted little or no observation, had my mind
not been directed to watchfulness, and had not a clue
been given to me to interpret them ; but those scenes
gradually corroborated the views of a convent's interior,
which the widow had presented to me in her repulsive
picture of the turpitude of Nunneries. Being consid
ered a& completely within their power ; I soon was
admitted to the more hidden proceedings of these ee
cret recesses of human life. ^

" As my intercourse became more familiar, and the
reserve of novel acquaintance gradually disappeared ;
my convictions of the truth of Marguerite's statement
became not only more definite, but stronger, and more
abiding. The stately prudishness exhibited before

mmmmmmm

■^

straDgera was Strikingly contrasted with the unseemly
and indecorous levity in their unobserved and private
pursuits ; and the sly, leering, licentious Jesuit, when
conversing with a Nun alone, or with the two Consoci-
ated sisters who occupied the same apartment, was a
very different individual from the gloomy and motion-
less featured Pretre in the streets, and at the altar.

** This metamorphosis, which in many instances I
should have thought impossible, first excited my suspi-
cions. Watchfulness, as the dying woman had pre-
monished me, soon produced incredulity. In the sanc-
tified exterior of the Pretres ; I perceived nought but
hypocritical assumptions. This naturally led to doubts
respecting the boasted super-excellence, not only of the
actors, but of their system of priestcraft. Still I believed
sdl their doctrines as far as I knew them, and tacitly
admitted all their claims. Amid the gorgeousness of
their ceremonial, and the consequent intoxication of the
senses, I generally forgot all the contradictory realities,
which I saw enacted behind the curtain, where the mask
was discarded. ^

i 11

' " Several months of the year revolved in this man-
ner ; the greater portion of which I can only describe,
under the similitude of a person in a reverie faintly con-
scious of the passing exterior scenes, but chiefly
absorbed in his own mental abstractions. ^^ **' ^^

■n ''Thus I was increasingly impressed with the ac
curacy of Marguerite's views ; yet I could.not have cited

''i - . 'I^' • • ■■ " ■

even one single fact distinctly to justify my inferences.
The circumstances which attracted my notice were
doubtless enacted before me as a decoy. They were
disguised under such en^aring names, and so extenu-
ated, and pruned of their offensive luxuriance, thai
often I condemned my harsh suspicions, which flowed
from innate feelings of propriety, and the spontaneous
dictates of natural conscience.

"I was providentially extricated from this vacillation
of mind on a iide from duebec into the country. The
Nuns directed me to reside for a short period, under the
pretence of purer air, near Jacques Cartier. A female
companion attended me, whom in vain I attempted to
identify. Her voice was the only character of which
I could retrace any memorial ; but as that is so decep-
tive a criterion of judgment, I quickly decided that my
fellow traveller was a stranger. After much ordinary
chit-chat, the Nun, for I am now convinced that she
Wds one of them, although so disguised as to be un-
known, asked me some questions respecting my ideas
of a conventual l^fe, my age, my predilections, and my
views of the future. I replied as cautiously and inde-
cisively as I possibly could. The siren pretended to
express her delight at my good sense, bash fulness, and
prudence; and kissed me in approbation of my opinions.

' " After a short period, she artfully introduced again
my wishes about the Nunnery ; and by way of argu-
ment, as she said, she would state the objections usual"
\y advanced by the Heretics to a convent| and ^ refuta-

i!i <<^n a M m'iimiiiimm^t»t»f$tMtni

gps^"

mmmm

!'ii

it M

I V

:'^

(jon of them. When she recapitulated all my own
ideas upon the subjecti I was surprised ; but her answers
were extremely weak and (Hvolous. Shehowever trium-
phed in the ingenuity of her replies, and the greatnen of
her superiority to the opponents of a monastic hfe ; and
having doubtless presumed that her preliminary object
was efiected ; she asked me— "how old are you,
Louise?"

" I know not — was my reply — nor can any person
tell me, that I ever yet saw."

' <* Let me look at you— she rejoined ; and turning
back my hair as if she would view my physiognomy—
O ho ! what have we here ! — and she kissed the cross
on my forehead — this is a beautiful mark, and proves
y«u to be a true daughter of our Holy Mother, the

church." -'^Ui 1 i<: - . ' . :.:■■■.

»^i :^5

" i know not — ^was my answer — who imprinted
that cross, nor the object ibr which it was placed
there." " ^

" A token of love, child, no doubt — was her rejoin-
der ; casting upon me a most expressive, but disgusting
look, which made me blush, for I was filled with
shame — and you may be proud to wear it. But
what makes ^u blush so ? were you ever in love '/"

^ "I returnee' a -negative to this question ; with which
she expressf i her satisfaction, cautioning me agaiqet

1*.

- S. .t -ii r'n d I I l \ |ii rnT'"'*T'

. i>^ ,i>\>'-^-..<o-.

i turning

^nomy —
the cross

I^H

id proves
her, the

j^^H

mprintcd
s placed

r rejoin- ^

isgusting
ed with '

ii. But

lover

th which

agalQst

.he admission of any unholy predilection for wicked
men, as inconsl'*- 1* - '\h the vows of th& sisterhood.
She then began u lo' eulogy upon the happiness of
residing In a Convent; where pers« ...^ ^ight enjoy
overy pleasure of life without restraint, unreproached,
and exempt from the fear of discovery. ■ i.

'* She managed this most difficult part of her under-
taking with great address. Her eyes were fixed upon
me with very intense scrutiny. She analyzed my
feelings with the utmost accuracy, from the involunta-
ly movements of my countenance. She advanced^
letreated, moved around, was softened or emboldened,
just as she perceived most effectual. Her serpentine
wiles and cautious approaches finally convinced me, that
this was c" ^y the prelude to the serious drama, in which
I was doomed soon to be a chief character ; and my
promise to the dying Marguerite recurred in all its
sanctity and efficacy. The consequent composure
depicted on my countenance completely deceived that
female seducer ; for she mistook the calmness of shield-
cd purity, for the tame yielding of corrupted virtue.
Enough was unfolded during that ride to convince me,
that without the impediments to which the old French
woman alluded, and even with them. Monasteries are
the earthly vestibule to the fearful abodes of guilt and
eternal despair. From that time, my resolution was
fixed, that I would never coxxunence the proposed
!!"(oviciate

"^ '^Thiee days did the anfiilcreatise i^einiBii withme
. 5»

1 1

->^y

S:'^^'^^^<^^i^>^>«'MH|Wii,^^a^^

»;^ r »«» t»» i Jtll0UHIfMfUtll!^-<f^^'Srr

"> 1 ' . «■'

{■»

I, '^

at a houpe, the inmates of which were more repulsive
thait my heated imagmation had depicted ; from the
dialike which I had imbibed, notwithstanding her flat-
tering delineations. There I first saw what had never
before existed in my fancy. Then I truly felt the
reality of Marguerite's aversion to a pretended religion,
of whifjji such human monsters were the accredited dis-
ciples and teachers. :;*f;*;!s:. ;. *<::: aa- " ■'

ft " After a short period, a Pi-etre entere'^ *he scene; and
unless my anticipations are perfectly bxu. oious, we shall
see him to-tnorrovv at Lorette — the same wretch who
on the other day denounced you. I could not see hw
person ; but the tones of his voice are too strongly en-
graven upon my memory ever to be erased. At the
house whither I was sent, vf&te two females, adepts in
every species of vice. All their artifices were directed
to undermine my innate resbtance to their assaults
upon my principles. Their shameless examples were
added to their other efforts. • When they were alone
with me and the Priest, every attempt was made to in*
duce me to join in their disgusting familiarities with
him. Invariably did I refuse, and although it was im
possible to hinder or to escape from the Pretre's impu-
dent blandishments, yet the solemn purposes of my soul
became continually more stern. .mMmi<,im -^^^r

t « The arguments which the Priest and his associates
Used to extirpate my delicacy, only served to refine and
strengthen it ; and I easily adopted Marguerite's con-
cIi|8ion, that a rdigion which permitted and justified

/■i

-«■-*•

■ f

fr" 'Tsr

•^^ri;^::--

.tM

auch flagrant violatious of all that is pure and consci-
entiouB ; which can suborn agents to seduce innocence,
and insnare the weak ; which sanctifies vice, d^rades
virtue, and confounds all moral distincticMis, was in-
curably corrupt. Not that I had any right to iu for from
the conduct of a few, that the whole body were trans-
gressors ; but as I bec&me gradually more initiated into
their secret mysteries, I perceived that which was good
disappear, and that which was only evil, to sway the
sceptre. / '

" Having been thus instructed in my first lesson ; at
the end of a moi^h, I was sent to duebec, to learn
some additional rules in this hopeful science. What
I saw and heard ; and what it was intended I should
believe, and when called upon practise, must remain
a secret. One thing rather astonished, but yet pleased
me ; neither the Superior nor the Religieuses ever ad-
verted to the topic of my Noviciate. During this period
the life of a Nun was gilded over in its most beauteous
array ; and I should most certainly have been insnared,
had I not been influenced by Marguerite's dying com-
munication. That enabled me to pierce behind the
gaudy attractive scenes ; and in the familiarity of all
that confidence which two of them dared to exhibit, I
beheld the corroding worm which devoured all their
tisefulness and peace. >

i.m

■2 " I was designedly admitted to the retired hours and
occupations of most of the Nuns. Some were fasti-
diously reserved ; othera acted their part throughout >

•(.> ■

rm min wmmmmtifit

HlUfl II -JIM

*!»••■'

' '^ >.

i^'

some privately displayed their genuine tempers ; bat
two only candidly unveiled those living tombs of good-
ness and virtue, and those dread sepulchral abodes of
hypocrisy and poUutbn. I perceived, that a mcifNutic
life is a complete masquerade, in which ail the charac-
ters are either devotees of vice, or skeletons of misery ;
but all without dignity, or goodness, or comfort ; where
all the glories of which they boast are entirely un-
known.

'' At the commencement of the last montli of my pro-
hationary 3rear ; about twenty days before I first saw
you ; I was again remanded to the country. Who
was my companion on that occasion I know not ; if
she Was the same woman as on the former journey,
then there is no exteiior appearance which she could
not conceal or counterfeit.

■■m

'' We started from Quebec, to my utter surprise and
dread, in the afternoon, in a large covered carriole.
Which way we travelled, where we stopped, or at what
hour of the night we arrived, I can form no idea. Some
time after dark, a Pretre entered the carriole as if trav-
elling the same road ; and the conversation soon as-
sumed a most repulsive character. I presently com-
plained of fatigue, and composed myself as if for sleep,
anxious to unravel their plot. Nothing occurred to at-
tract my notice, until after the female had examined
me ; and ascertained, as she concluded, that I was
^leep. Curiosity alone kept me quiet, while I hcBrd

♦ .A'.'*-*

, i

them explain the whole mystery ;- for the closing
scene waH now to be enacted.

4 u. I. ■%

" It appeared, that this was the identical Pretre with
whom I had been so disgusted at Jacques Cartiersj
that we were then going to his house ; that I was to be
introduced under some fictitious character, if I could
not be altogether concealed ; and that of course, I woe
to be the slave of his will, until the time appointed for
the commencement of my Noviciate, when I was to be
transferred, like others who had passed through the
same guilty path, to the convent ; and as it would be
useless afterwards to complain, the life of a Nun would
be preferred by me, as by iheir former victims, to their
malevolence and persecution. The mtist shocking
part of all this infamous arrangement was this ; that
the Pretre's atrocious purpose, in case of necessity,
was to be accomplished by every extremity of violence.
We eventually arrived at a spot where the Priest left us ;
and after some distance, we alighted at a house, and
there passed the remainder of the night. •/ ^i^^

V. • ■ - . -.^i: .: J.i:, -.■; fe

<< On the following day, after a considerable ride, my
female companion and myself entered u church, and
upon a signal being given to her, we proceeded to the
sacristy, which was immediately fastened from without ;
and by a private, if not generally unknown avenue,
we passed into the Priest's habitation. IVhen I saw
him, remembering their conversation of the night
before, and reflected up<m Marguerite, and her strange
prediction ; my heart sunk within me, and I was ready

■ i,

r- i

\ :

i 62

(0 surrender all hope. But when I was in iho room
where they ordered me to disrobe, I endeavored to pray
unto Qod, through Jesus Christ, in words of my own-
It was the first time I had ever done so ; and 1 was
supported. Marguerite'b last words ruuhed into my
mind — " stand fast in your purity, and God will deliv-
er you" — and I resolved, through Divine assistance, to
abide every trial, rather than thus to be sacrificed by
those panders of iniquity. The odious hag remained
about four days. Alt that ingenuity could devise was
attempted, to induce my compliance with the Pretre's
desire. When coaxing failed, every nienace which
revenge, authority and ilisappnintment could denounce,
was not less inetfectually applied. She finally left me
completely in the power of a monster, of whose nefa-
rious designs, unawares to them, i had become fully
apprized. -■ ■ . > ' i •

' " Several days he tormented me with his wicked pro-
posals and forced caresses. He adduced all the varied
deceptions which Marguerite had detailed. He boasted
of the authority of his Church, the blessedness of his
absolution, the comfort of enjoying a Priest's favor,
and the satisfaction of a Nun's life, with its glorious
reward. His blasphemy repelled me as much as his
obscenity. My reply was short, but peremptory—^** I
will never consent to your base design."

v'H >

• " On the eighth day after the woman who conducted
me had left us, a letter was delivered to me, written by
the same person who has addressed yoa this evening.

y*i^'

)■'...'

The substance uf U, aa you may easily suppose, was (o
persuade me to submit to the Priest's wishes ; for he
would have his way, and longer resistance would only
make it the more painful for me. It was closed in the
very same words — " Do not offend the Priests. Be-
lieve what ihey tell you. Do just as they say ; and
all will yet he well." Durin|f two or three following
days he desisted from his importunities, but he piiU
distressed and insulted me with his pretended en^'^^ar-
ments. He was allowing me not only un opportu-
nity to consider the contents of the letter, but also to
be assured from the testimony of my eyes and ea. ;, ac-
cording to Marguerite's debasing account that .'ouag
women and those of our sex who possess any influence
in society are often merely unconscious instraments to
execute the Cu re's designs. The females doubtless sup-
posed, that they and the Pretre ^ere concealed from
all huiuun observation ; yet the grossest acts of disso-
luteness were performed, where I could not but under-
stand them, expressly to influence my mind to yield to
the impression, that as these private matters could not
be suspected, and much less known t. i* e world, they
produced no disgrace, and therefore, that it was folly,
and useless for me, not to conform to v/hat was obviously
general and established usage. . ^ i

" Four or five days before you found me, the Pretre
was visited by some of the Habitans, to whom he com
municated, that on the following Sunday,' immediately
after Mass, he should goto Quebec on business of im
portance to the Church ; that he should not return until

m'm

^i;^hr--

m*^

lit

\ i

I n

ai;

Ihe day before the festival, and that tie should leave a
nwman named Guise, to take care of his house. From
that time until the following Saturday, I suffered every
variety of anguish. His conduct was indescribable. By
craftyallurementsatone time, by the most intimidating
threats at another, by urging the duty of obedience to
Ills priestly authority, and by reminding me of the
scenes and examples which my situation had compel-
led me to witness : sometimes insulting me with his
indecent familiarities ; and at other times, almost pro-
ceeding to the brutal violence of superior force — so that
upon one occasion, had I not been endowed with unu-
sual energy to resist his assault, he would have consum-
mated his horrid purpose. I had no rest by day, and
was afraid to sleep by night, as the ruffian was always
on the watch to take advantage of any moment, when
I was unprepared to repel his atrocious attempts.
".'<■.- . , ' ' •

He had appointed the Saturday evening for his tool
to arrive, that he might direct her how to act during his
absence. When she appeared, my whole soul abhorred
her sensual, witch-like countenance. She was well tu-
tored for the task. I Wcis represented to be a girl out
of her mind ; who had been sent to him by a family
relative, to provide an asylum fur me in Quebec, and
that WHS the reason of his journey. He also stated;
that I was perfectly, inoffensive and peaceable ; and
only commanded her carefully to watch me. The
minions of his wickedness pleaded that she could not
stay in the house alone. " I shall be scared out of my
wits too— said Guise — ^your reverence must let rpe go

iff

. \

.iii^',.

',- f.

Id leave a
J. From
red every
table. By
imidating
edience to
ne of the
d compel-
with his
most pro-
5 — so that
vith unu-
e consum-
' day, and
as always
ent, when
pts.

)r his tool

during his

abhorred

IS well tu-

girl out

a family

ebec, and

o stated;

ule ; and

16. The

could not

aut of mv

et me go

•m

^Way at night. I will take care that the poor girl
shall do no harm."

" This protlnccd a long altercation, but the Pretrc
finally was obliged to consents He supposed that I was
ignorant of this arrangement ; and prestiming upoi^
his power over me, and the safety of the dungeon
in which 1 vas immured, for the only window in the
room was effectually barred without, so as to preclude
all escape ; he perceived no other mode to retain his
prisoner, tlian by complying with Guise's obstinacy.
To have confided the secret of my presence even to
his Sacristan, was fraught with the greatest risk ; as ma-
ny of the Seigniors, although they nominally adhere to
tlie church, are known secretly to despise their ceremo-
nies, and to abhor the priests ; and through a man's un
willingness to aid in tlie infliction of unalterable misery
upon a young woman, which might be communicated
to the Seignior, the Sacristan could not be trusted.
He contrived to despatch the woman away, under some
pretext, in the evening, and then disclosed all his base
design. He was going to Quebec ; and while there,
he should arrange the plan for my removal to the Nun-
nery speedily after the holidays. " I shall return next
Tuesday — said the Pretre — and remember — uttering a
most dreadful execration, with a petrifying look of ma-
lignant sensuality, which even now fills me with horror
— even if you die, that night you shall be mine."

^'Never — I angrily replied — upon no pretext, through

>■ .

- ■ .--..,v '

tiss^

I ' )

66 - .

no artifice, by no force, will I yield myielf to your
desires."

" He merely added — " Nous verrons, we shall see"—
and left me. The loathed Guise was my companion
for the night.

" In my dreaming drowsinessi as well as when I was
fully awake, my head was filled with manoeuvres and
contrivances. My roving imagination pondered upon
every variety of stratagem, by which I might avoid the
calamity that impended over me. My aversion to the
Nunnery became an additional incentive ; and I resolved
never again to enter that polluted woful region, unless by
' force. I frequently was startled in the night to rational
recollection, from the strong excitement of my mind ; but
1 could retrace nothing, except an indistinct comfortable
feeling, which encouraged a hope of yet eluding the
Pretre's grasp.

" This expectation, however, was quelled, when in
the morning I discovered, that every article of my cloth-
ing had disappeared except my house dress. Conse-
quently, even if it were possible to fly, the coldness of
the weather would speedily terminate my sorrows ; and
I shuddered at the idea of freezing to death. "While
the Priest and his imp were at mass, I made a discov
ery which became the main spring of my elopement.
Guise had arrived the night before in her usual com-
mon clothes, having brought her extra Sunday apparel,
The same bonnet and cloak which vou found with

■*■ **• *

4^.

slf (0 your
companion

^hen I was
suvres and
lered upon
t avoid the
Bion to the
] I resolved
, unless by
to rational
mind ; but
)mfortable
iding the

when io
my cloth*
Conse-
coldness ol
ows; and
. While

a discov
lopement.
iual com-
y apparel,
und with

ibis shawl and the moccasons, were laid aside, no
doubt, to be resumed on Monday. As soon as mass was
finished, the Pretre de^mrted. .^1 heard him direct Guise
to take care, when she left the house in the evening,
not to go away very early, to leave no candle, and to
be careful thai the outside door, and the door leading
to the sacristy, and especially the entrance to the stair
case, were all safely locked and bolted ; so that my
dungeon should be secure. As h^* went out of the
room to hirt carriole, he cast his gloating eyes upon nie,
and having said — "Au revoir" — to my inexpressible
delight, the Jes^uit and one of his young dependaute
drove off, and soon disappeared.

'' I had hoped to have made use of the woman in
some mode to aid my design ; bur. she was not less in-
tractable towards me, than obstinate with the Priest.
When I spoke to her, she would look ut me with dis-
dain — " Pauvre miserable, poor wretch" — this was her
sde reply. I attempted to soften her by kind and
flattering language, but all was ineffectual. She mut-
tered to herself in soliloquy ; avowing her unwilling-
ness to stay after dark; her wish to have a man
in thft house; and a number of other siiitilar com-
plaints. When she paused ; I would interpose and de-
clare ; '* You must not go away. You must not leave
me. If any persons come to the house, I will go out
to them — I will not stop here by myself."

"To comfort and deceive me, as she thought, she
would reply — " 1 will stay with you. I will lock all
the doors early at night. We will take a long sleep."

i ^ " " -

'^';i.*

!i ii^

h I

'• I perceived her artifice, but it fully answered my
purpose. Several persons came to the Priest's house
in the afternoon. I was thrust into my own apart-
ment ; but as Guise suspected that I should be lidten-
ing, she avowed her intention of staying all night, and
also of procuring some woman of the neighborhood to
keep her company. After some of her visitors had re-
tired, I heard her move towards my door, 1 pretended
to be asleep, as she came into the room. Convinced
that I was insensible to their conversation, upon her
jeturn to her companions, I heard her promise a>
man to accompany him to a great dance, which was
to be held that evening about three miles distant. He
engaged to bring his carriole at eight o'clock, and drive
her back by day-lighjt. i ,. '

" When all her associates had left her ; Guise began
to make her preparations for the night. She filled the
tire-place with w(X)d ; and arranged every little conve-
nience, in case, as she said, I should want any thing in
the night. I was delighted to find that the bread wait
not removed out of the sitting room ; and that she
seemed to have forgotten her common dress. You
must remember that the Sunday afternoon was stoi;|ppy ;
and this furnished Guise with an excuse for retuing
to rest at an early hour. The bells of the passing car-
rioles, I suppose, were the signal by which she pro-
posed that we should lay down for the night. Sh«^
had disposed a pallet for herself in the exterior room ;
and when I had noticed the exact place of the va-
rious articles, I partially disrobed, and apparently re-
signed myself to sleep. After a short period, suppa

"/',

3red my
's house
n apart-
e lidten-
g:ht, and
rhood to
I had re
retended
nvjnced
pon her
3mise Q)
ich was
lit. He
id drive

B began
lied the
conve-
hing in
ad wa&
lat she
You
torjpy;
retiring
ng car-
^e pro-

room;
he va-
itly re-
suppo-

■3ing me to be unconscious of her plans ; she cautiously
lighted the candle, and approaching my bed, as she
perceived no symptoms of waketulness — " Pauvre mis-
erable ! poor wretch !". — said the callous miscreant, for
now 1 have no doubt that she was privy to the whole
conspiracy ; and then began to array herself for the
frolic. By the reflection of the light, I soon ascertain*
ed, that her meaner apparel was still where she first
had laid it, and that she was ready to depart. She did
not wait long before a slight knock at the door intima-
ted the arrival of her partner. She then filled the
stove, secured it from danger, surveyed all the doors,
once more examined me, and then withdrew, locking
me in, to dark ness, silence, and solitude Surely nothing-
but Divine goodness and mercy, and the hope that my
plan to escape would succeed, supported me at that
fearful moment. My heart sunk down like lead within
me, when I heard the external door closed, and the
carriole driven away ; thus leaving me, as it were, in^
tombed alive in that above-ground sepulchre. I hastily
arose, commended myself to God's protection in broken,
but sincere and earnest prayer ; and felt inspired with
the resolution to seize the opportunity of escape, and
visk all consequences ; as I conceived, that no possible
evil could befal me, worse than the calamity with
which the Jesuit threatened me.

" The carrioles continued to pass for awhile ; aftet
which a tiresome, appalling dreariness almost benum-
bed my faculties, and made me hesitate respecting
#1© fulfilment of my intention. Amid the stillness of

Uhi*a?'»i!*»»w***iM*'? '■

i-^i i n i w I .i t f i 3 \\ mm»,.m>

! I

die night, and the exercises of impatient alarm, it is im^
possible to calculate the progress of time. Its first sen-
sible lapse that I reali7.ed, was in the feeling of chilli-
ness, for the fire had gradually subsided, and it wae
necessary ta increase the heat. This stimulated my
nerves, and I began to recover fortitude for the dan-
gerous effort. The window of the sitting-room was
not secured by a srrate, and by it, I hoped to escape. ,

" The scene without was not only sombre, but ter-
rific. The moon had set for some time, and I there-
fore knew that it must be considerably past midnight.
The wind was sufficiently stmng occasionally to drift
the snow, and every thing declared the impossibility ol
surviving the night in the open air. After repeated
surveys, I ascertained, that there would be little diffi-
culty to reach the ground, with the help of the bed
coverings securely tied ; as the flat, according t© the
country custom, was only a few feet high. I put
on Guise's trappings, and employed myself leisurely in
forcing open the window shutter which had been fas-
tened without, and in securing the means of descent ;
ns I resolved to postpone my actual departure, until i
could perceive a fire in onv^ of the surrounding habita-
tions ; because I knew that Guise would not leave the
IVolic until nearly day-Kghl. While thus engaged,
and anxiously watching, a carriole drove up near to
the house, and I indistinctly discovered three persons^
approaching tho entrance. -. >-.«**»..,

♦if "iV, ahoit conver,*atiQn ensued. They were consult-

%x^'

A«

...~i'i

•«--^

"i:.?i'-'

■'^r

lag upoD the expedieacy of purloining the Priest's
treasure; and as he was away, and discovery impossi-
ble, it was determined that they would make the
attempt. I knew not how to decide. A moment only
was left for deliberation. 1 resolved to trust to theiv
honor, and request their aid to effect my escape. The
doors were speedily opened, and two young men hur-
ried up the stairs. They possessed a concealed light,
and upon entering my room, were alarmed at seeing me.
One of them rushed upon me, and threatened me with
instant death, if I made any noise. I threw back my
bonnet, and when instead of Guise, he perceived a
young woman alone — " Tres bien ! — said he— very
well ; here is a good prize for us ; the Pretre con trivets
to pick out good company — who are you ?"

" I am a stranger — was my reply — decoyed here for
a bad design ; and was just going to escape out of the
window, when I heard your carriole approach. Only
aid my flight from this place. I will not tell your
a-ecret."

tii
■^1^

'• Bon ! good — he replied, addressing his corapanicm

-we always thought the Cure had a good reason for

never permitting a visitor to go up aiuxa. So this is

his female department. We will spoil the old coquin's

tricks, for awhile."

" I'hey easily discovered and secured the Pdest^s
xmuey. He who first saw me, then took me by %h^
arm— "Vite!-- ^id he— il faut partir; Ciiiick! we
rmtstgo." ... _ ,^.j

*•!

*' I know, not bow I demeDded the statir-case. We
entered the carhoie, and he drove away-to & short dis-
tance, where we could be concealed' from n^ice. He
added — " 11 faut s'urreter ici un peu ; we must wait
here a little."

^'Our contract was soon made. He promised to
drive me as far ati be could go with his horse, before
the afternoon; and as I knew neither him nor his com-
panions, and so dreaded all discovery, tliey feared no
exposure from nie. Suddenly a blaze of light appear-
ed — **il8 ont raiaon ; tl>ey are right — said my ;guai''
dian — Guise will be blamed for the yrhole misfortune."

"It is impossible to say what I felt, when I turned
and saw my prison on fire. Two young men instantly
rejoined us. A short circuit was made that con-
ducted us back into the direct road which led from the
house where tbe dance was held ; and immediately
they began to vociferate, " Fire ! fire ! " — They ran to
the houses to awaken the neighboring inhabitants.
The carriole passed the Church, and remained station-
ary at a short distance from the scene. The Sacristan
soon rang the alarm-bell. All the affrighted habitans
Mamed Goise jforthe fire; because every door was safe,
and an entrance was only made by force. The Pre-
tre's furniture which was unburnt was thrown into the
road, and the house was completely emptied. Within
a few minutes from the ringing of the bell, moving
lights were seen in every direction — " AlIoDs! come" —
said our Charioteer. His confederates immediately
returned. They had only waited to see the house gnr-

■?%

ted by the Sacristan and his helpers. As soon as the
acreaming crowd from the dance arrived near the spot,
we commenced travelling at a rapid rate away from
the vile Cure's prison." ^. ..

" What direction we went, I know not ; nor was it of
any consequence. The only intirnt.tion which I had
of our course was from the first streak of day appearing
nearly in front of us — thus iriHucing me to suppose that
we were travelling towards Quebec. The dark ride
was enlivened by their iponversation, and although my i
sense of justice condemned their ill-gotten spoils ; yet I :
oould not heartily disapprove of a measure, by which I
had been so joyfully rescued from immediate ruin.
Their whole talk was a sipeciraen of reckless raillery,
respecting the manner in which they would confess
their sin, and buy the Fretre's pardon with his own
money : or in case of necessity, they declared they
would threaten the Priest with an expt^ure of his con-
cealed female companions. ^

" I will confess to the Cure — said Jacques — I am
afraid some crowns which were pairl me in Quebec
were part of his holy money ; and upon condition of his
pardoning all my sins, that he shall have them. O !
how he will praise my love of the Church, and my ten-
der conscience."

Cela n'est pas bon ; that will not do — replied Pierre —
I will go and pray him to pardon me for being at the
dance on a Si)uiday; and then tell him, that had it not

"A .^J*«^

,_ ,-J«C •«•-- •

i -<^

been foi- me, the whole of his property would havebeeo
burnt. * Who first weot into the house ? will be his
question. I shall answer — 'the Sacristan'. — 'Where
was the strongest part of the fire V will the Pretre de-
mand. I shall reply — ' In the upper rooms.' Who
opened the closet and took out the contents /' will he
desire to know. ' Ah, Monsieur ! will I say — Je ne sais
pas, I know not. That was burnt out before 1 could
get to the fire.' Then he will shake his ht^ad at his
loss, praise my diligence, pardon all my sins, and give
me his blessing ; but if it was worth one sous he would
not bestow it without being paid for it."

" Voiis ne faites rien ; you are good for nothing at all,
— affirmed Francois, the driver — 1 will go to him —
' Ah, Monsieur, je t^uis bien fache de voh pertes ; Ah,
Sir! I am sorry for yonr los^ This will obtain hie
smile. ' Mais, Monnieur, on dit'— but, Sir, they say' —
In an angry tone he will cry out — ' Q,u'est ce qu 'on
dit ? What do they say. ' Pardonnez moi ; pardon
me' — I shall reply. He will insist ; and 1 shall oppose,
until at last 1 shall inform him, that Guise arrived at
the fire just as it was extinguished, and asked if any
person had seen a young woman about the fire ; that
we all said, No. That she continued to repeat,
* Pauvre miserable ; poor wretch !' — so that, they say,
there was a girl burnt up in the fire. — " Who saysso T
will he demand. ' All the people say — will I reply —
that they heard Guise lamenting to herself over a
pauvre miserable ; andi that she often saysj it was bet<
ter to jump out of the window into the soonr, than to be

^■' *}

'yf,:-

burht in a house. 'PreoeoE garde, take care ; iviiltlie
Pretre reply — contradict that story.' Upon which
I ehail promise him obedience, and he will grant me
pleniere indulgence, full indulgence for a year."

" What is the Pretre's name, and what do they call
the place?" 1 asked. — " t)o you not know the Pretre's
name ?" said Francoin. — " No, was my reply — I know
neither his name, nor what they call the village." —
" Tant mieux ; so much the better — answered Fran-
cois — -then we ore safe."

Of the Priest's" reported tricks, avarice, and disso-
luteness, they detailed, I suppose, all which they knew.
Their conversation proved to me ; that of good princi-
ples, they themselves had very little idea ; that they
considered all religion to be a farce, in which the Priest
enacted the chief character ; and that to rob the Cures
was only doing in another form the very same thefts
which they always practised. Every thing which
they mentioned confirmed my abhorrence both of the
Priests and their system. How long we had continued
to ride, or what distance we had come, I know not ;
and when they understood my ignorance of the Priest's
name and of the spot, they would not answer any
question by which I could ever know either, so thai
they might elude all suspicion and discovery. Who
were my fellow travellers, or where we were going,
nvas equally a mystery. The cloudiness of the morn-
ing also interrupted any distant view ; but sometime
aiter day-light, we stopped at a house to breakfast.

^^!»Khm»^-

*'r

^rhe^e, during the interval of preparation, the Prleal t<
spoilers divided their prey. They obtained a large
booty, and offered me an equal part, which I refused.
But when they heard, that the old coquin, as they
termed the priest, had stolen my clothing and that J
Was pennyless, they insisted that I should accept a
small sum as a present from themselves, independent of
their good and lawful prize, as they jocularly termed the
Priest's louis d'ors, to keep me from immediate want
till I coilld find a refuge.

" During the breakfast, an inquiry was made—
**how shall we direct our course ?" It was proposed to
proceed by Point aux Trembles to Quebec. To this
'Course I decidedly objected, and told them, that I was
known there, and should be discovered. They there-
Ibre determined to take the interior route by Lorette,
and leave me where I pleased. ^^ *

.... . ' M

'We again stopped for dinner: and before sun-set, about
> mile from the Indian village, we finally separated.
When the carriole, with my deliverers, had fully disap'
peared, I once more felt my foriorn situation. Knowing
that every stranger is a curiosity to the habitans, and that
if the Cure is at home, the smallest novelty is immediate-
ly revealed to him , 1 dreaded exposure, and yet dared
not intrust myself with persons unknown in a carriole,
even had one passed me. To stay in the snow during
a December night was certain death. I wandered
along the road, scarcely conscious of my movements
until night had completely set in ; when upon lookuig

jSjCiri.-i ,,-■--«

'^ M ^ ^' ^ a^i ;* f^ii»^fiS i ^) k ^

'vsj6*ia»i^tj

arouud tne, I perceived bf the Aiooq, that I bad diverg*
ed from the mad to Qoebec towards the mountain. I
fclt a numbness creeping over me, which, as soon as I
began to reflect, warned me of my danger, and I in*
3tantly eierted all my energies, and hastened to retracb
my coarse. The exercise was salutary ; but when I
arrived at the village, my dilemma continued the same.
I could not directly appeal for a night's lodging to the
Indians. No means of escape were present to my view.
Uy fortitude left me. I forgot the Almighty Refuge.
I retraced the past with horror ; and the future I dread
ed. I felt as a worm trodden under foot, and crushed
to the earth. In my own apprehension, I was a per<
fectly isolated human being. I could not claim a
fnend — and all the men and women whom I knew,
except my deliverers from the Pretre's house, seemed to
be leagued in a conspiracy against my personal purity
and peace.

In this agitated state of mind, I wandered to and fro.
The light which the evening before had directed me to
a God of mercy was not perceptible. In the pungency
of my \ terness, I had forgotten the Almighty arm,
which iiad interposed for my deliverance, without per-
mitting me to perpetrate the scheme that I had once
intended, for had no other means been practicable, I
had resolved to set fire to the house and escape in the
confusion. In this wretchedness, I walked along thai,
main road, and as far as I can retrace my impressions^^
determined^ that I would be impelled by ciicumstances ^

as they might arise. The sound of the waters and the

,,..5?7;.--,-;?r-j^-

\-t

.■^■■.,~

sight of the ibam bewildered my imagination ; and 1
thought, that death or Ufe was c^ equal moment, as no
person on earth was interested in me. This is my last
existing distinct recollection . I was then standing near
the Church at Lorette. Of all the rest, I am totally
unconscious, until I became sufficiently restored to
hear your story," to thank you for your benevolence,
and to praise God for ray preservation." ^ > '^<r hUi : i

Chretien, who had betrayed most emotion, as Louise
unfolded her melancholy narrative, first interrupted
the silence which ensued after she had closed—" If I
thought that such s'ufulness existed — he remarked —
I would forswear the Priests and their corrupt religion
fi)rever."

" What have you ever seen in me — asked Louise^
with great dignity and pathos — which should induce
you, Chretien, to doubt my painful tale ?"

.» ■

" Nothing at all, dear Louise— he replied — but this
wickedness seems so incredible, that one demands
strong testimony to overcome our doubts." trl i ^ • •

*" This only proves what I said before — interposed
Diganu — but what evidence will satisfy you, that the
Priest who has been the tormentor of Louise is also
now concerned in this mystery ; and that he is the
strange Pretre who visited us ? Will Louise's positive
rec(^nition of him, as well as of the same hand-writing
in the two letters, convince you ?" = ^^s- •. . ^

, \

|MMn>*"***^W#^***'^'''*"*" -.»**•»:*' f«V--*r>-.;»y»'-*^** ' ""y%^[ ■* jj: i < w ^/i rtl >1 i i >4\**n. ,->^'< Vi('Mtt#>----N^

" ' ■••■ ^"*^

'< I will believe — answered Chretien — every thing
that Louise has said, if the Priest who visited as the
other day appears to-morrow at Lorette." ^ '

" Nod'.s verrons ; we shall see" — remarked Louise ;
and speedily left her friends to prepare for the antici-
pated contingencies of the eventful morning, so anx-
iously desired, and yet so deeply dreaded, by Diganu.

'>;:s'luU-SJ ■■-■ ^iv"^',. V- ,,1; ,-,-..'. - ■ _i.o y;(>5 ■■J5:> <).,-

■■ "~V ,... ^»»w~<-.«.%-.,

i»..>;'fci ,.1.

'W-i ' f " 1 . -*

•^ Sktii i.

.' *

.t 4

■V

\ ■!

•

\ ■

" . LORETTB.

< : ;*> The hopeif the dreams d* former day?,
Which once did cheer Hfe's gloom,
Arise before my fearful gaze,
Like spectres from the tombt

As mall party of their acquaintances had been invited
lO accompany Diganu, Louise, and Chretien to Ijorette;
who were not apprized of their intended marriage. In
sase of any emergency, they were selected as witness-
es and defenders. Louise appeared in the same dress,
except that Guise's winter apparel, being then unsea-
sonable, was discarded. After they had breakfasted,
she retired, to commend herself to God, and his fatherly
grace and protection. When their friends began t«
assemble, Louise requested to see Diganu and Chretieo
alone.

'' I .ijLOst sincerely thank you, Chretien — Louise ten-
derty remarked — for all your kindness to me. I know
that we shall see each other no more after this morn
ing ; but be assured, that the remembrance of youii
friendship will remain as long as memory endures, and
will ever be mingled with the hope of meeting you in
*hftt world were the wicked cease from troubling^"

•

...^'

,J^'

.-,,- -cl

1 invited
lx>rette;
ge. In
witness-
le dress,
unsea-
kfasted,
fatlierly
!gan to
/iiretieo

use ten-
I know
morn-
f yom
es, and
you in

< w

" Your anticipations, ray dear Louise, are t«3o som-
bre — answered Chretien — once already have you been
partly rescued from misery, and I hope this day will
witness your complete deliverance." .

She offered him her hand in friendly salutation,
with a melancholy shade of features, totally different
from a bride's ordinary expressive glow, and then
addressed her betreihed. " All that is in my trunk,
Oiganu — c<aid ! iouise — is rightfully yours, and to ycu
I restore it. But this I present you as my only ielic
and my most precious remembrancer — giving him her
Bible — 1 foresee that you will value it for my sake.
Believe in it as I do. I trust that you will derive conso-
lation from it as I have done ; and as 1 expect never
more to return to this house, it will be the best mc
mento of your Louise."

The feeling was so oppressive, tbu£ Bhn sunk into
H chair. But having recovered h»T ioi/'posure, she
knelt down and prayed to the Fatler of mercies for her
friendsj and for her own preservation. At he close of
her short devotions, Louise icit re-assu ed, and re-
marked to Chretien — "if we meet any persons lo day
whom I know I will inform you."

Diganu interposed — " 1 cannot go lo Lor;^tte ; my
heart is too overpower«d with alarm."

■; ^i, 'r^uu-;::-^ 7*:: .'vj ,' , , :■..■; : '',..■.'> '•.

"N'importe; no matter— replied Louise- -fhus to

live and be tantalized is a lingering consumption ; it is

'•^*

00m^

U^.-..\!j'Vf, i 1

. •

preferable to ascertain the final resuU. H love you
Diganu, as a sis er might, most tenderly ; for your kind-
ness, your sympathy^and your virtues ; bi^t, inexplicit;
ble as is the fact, I never had the sligjbitest c(<nDi|bi^
attachment or inclination for you.

" This is truly astonishing — subjoined Diganu —
'here is something so attractive and so repulsive in all
your words, actions and character, that I accede to your
wishes, gloomy as is the prospect. We will be tortur-
ed thus no longei. Either v/e will live together insep-
arable, or we will know the mysterious connection
^hich see ns both to unite and to divide us."

THieir mutual pungency, which flowed from the evik
• bat the friends foreboded, was partly nlieviated during
ihe ride from Quebec to Lorette, by the consolatory pic-
ture which Louise drew of her christian exercises, hef
resignation and h pe in God, her resolutions of sted-
lastness, and in her meek exultation, that her purblind
instructions had been so far efficacious through the
Divine blessing, in enlightening Diganu, that she
rionbted not he would become a sincere believer iO:
^esus, the Son of God ; and she charged him to study
;liat blessed book, her Bible. ' But — said Diganu^.
interrupting her — why did yon not retain it for your
own comfort?"

''Wiiat use could I m&ke of it ? — added Louise— if f
am forcibly separated froj 1 1 you, my enemies would de-.
r^troy it, and persecute me the more for having found it

.,:■!

•'^•;:

■rvf^

le evik P

during

ly pic-

es, her

sted-

irblind

\\\ the

<■!

it she

iver iD;

study

ganu^.

your

-ifl

Id de-.

and it

in my possession ; but if I return to Quebec with yoUi:
dearest — and she cast upon him a placid smile, whicb
Diganu ever after dwelt upon with indescribable emo-
tions — then we shall study it together. But as I do not
expect this result, I have provided for the consequencee*
A large portion of its holy contents I have treasured up
in my memory, as an antidote to error, an incentive
to obedience, and a fountain of comfort."

The elevation and spirituality of the topics (o which
they had attended during the latter part of the journey,
were peculiarly appropriate, and beneficial to their
agonized hearts. It seemed to unite them in a novel
tie ; and liouise was soothed by the conviction, that
Diganu had attained some Christian knowledge and
stability. Their fortitude, however, was again shaken^
as the}'^ approached Lorette.

At the cxiremity of the village llie party halted, and"
Clirelien having mformed thcii associates of the objecf
rf 'heir excursion, proceed id to ascertain if the Priest
was ready tc pei I'orm the ceremony. Some of the In-
dians and their squaws, with the children, were loung-
ing near the entrance of the church, as customary, if
any strangers arrived or were expected. When Chre-
tien inquired for the Priest, he was directed to the
church, where lie found two Priests, besides the Cure,
one of whom he recognized as the same who had visi-,
Ced and threatened Diganu ; the other was unknown.
Two strange women were also seated near the altar ;
^id on the other side, the two Indian females who had

f,i8»w<*

\'^ *i4»-'

v>.1.

i\\

BUised Louise during her abode at Lorette. This ar-
ray portended evil ; which was not diminished, when
as he approached the Cure, who was robed for the cere-
mony, to inquire if the nuptial party noight appear, the
Priest, whom he had before seen, exchanged a signifi-
cant and half-smiling, but murky look, with the other
Pretres, and the two women who were near thera. .

J 1 ! r *

ryi. fc^s -Vv

When he returned to his friends Ciivctlen was most
painfully embarrassed — but to Louise and Diganu, he
ftrst announced what persons he had tieen in the church.

'* I anticipated it — said Louise, almost sinking to the
ground — but 1 am prepared for the worst. It is the
will of God. Here, ( 'hretien — and she presented him
her hand — ticcept my last adieu. Remember your
promise. You must now believe all that I have assert-
ed. Snap the chain- which has so long fettered your
mind and will. Stand close by me ; that at least I
may have time to make known the parties, if I should
recognize any of them. Comfort Diganu in his distress.
Cultivate your mutual friendship. Study my Bible .!
Ood bless you !"

Dig .,4. a stood like a marble statue. The informa
tion had momentarily overwhelmed his faculties —
'•• Diganu, it is too late — faintly uttered Louise, shud-
dering as she spoke — to alter our plans. Trust in God !
"Vbu shall hear from me.

The friends who perceived the alteratien in Louise

:Himv.t>MN!fmk'

''0

^•K

This ar-
d, when
the cere-
|)ear, the
i signifi-
he other
em. .

vas most
janu, he
J church.

3g to the
X is the
ned him
)er your
^e assert-
red your
it least I
I should
distress.
y Bible .!

and .Diganu, pressed around to comfort them. It
became necessary therefore to admonish the party d^
the cau9e of their distress, and Chretien thus remark-
ed — " events have recently occurred of a very extraor-
dinary and perplexing nature, and the appearance <fi
some persons whom I have seen in the church has in-
creased our embarrassment." The geotlemen and
ladieS) especially Chretien and the Bride-Maid, aQ
avowed their resolution to assist, and to oppose any
evil whicli might be attempted. They stopped at thai
pan of the road where the precise spot was in view
whence Louise had been rescued, and to which they
all walked. There she devoutly blessed God for hif
goodness, asfain expressed her gratitude to her preser-
vers, poured forth her whole heart in a short prayer for
Piganu anil (.'hretien, and then with slow and faltering
steps, more like the measured procession of a funeral,
than the joyous movements of a wedding, they pro-
ceeded to the Church. ^ r^< ;• , -u : i? * ^nifrr

Unknown to the party, as soon as they all had enter
ed, the principal door of the church was locked. Louise
was veiled, and walked between Diganu and Chretien,
leaning on the arms of both her friends. As they
moved towards the altar, Louise uttered a loud shriek,
upon which all her attendants stopped. When sht
recovered her fortitude, she remarked, in a whisper, t»
Diganu and Chretien — "The Priest on the right of
the Cure is my tormentor; the other I know not.
That tall woman was my coutpanion to Jacques Carti^^
and I suppose on my other journey. The other crea*
tnve is Guise."

>,A'-

t^resently they advanced, and the ceremony WttS
about to begin ; but the Priest who had visited Diganu
prohibited the marriage, declaring that Louise had
dedicated herself to the Church, and that she could
not be discharged from her vows.

I'i.k'iHt^aft^m/^ ■%k^-t* .

• This statement was peremptorily denied Ny Louis^
Diganu, and Chretien, who had dismissed their fears,
and whom indignation had emboldened to resolute
resistance. The Cure therefore proceeded — but during
his ceremonial, the other Priests held a short consulta*
tion, and presently gave a signal to the female stran-
ger, who suddenly rushed upon Louise, seized her
by the arm, and forbade the marriage. Diganu and
Chretien could scarcely master the Fury, so as to retain
Louise under their protection. When she had become
a little calmed, she turned to the officiating Priest, and
in a direful voice, cried out — <* Cease : the marriage is
unlawful ! Diganu and Louise are brother and sister V'

A death-like stupor instantly seized all the nuptial'
party. The Priest and Guise grinned with malicious
delight — " Come here " — said the woman, addressing
die Cure — " look at this cross on her forehead — turning
back her hair. She then called upon their friends t»
view it — " remember that cross, it is a sign of recf^ni-
tion imprinted by her Mother." 'ji-'» fr, , «i ,.^,-r.vv»^<it

«u

\"fi'

Nothing .'an possibly exceed the reafiy profound as*
tonishment of the yoftthtiil friends, and the affected
surprise of the Cure at this exhibition., "Look at

-#.

• Hi. V

nt.■.»r^

this^continued the viragO) pointiog to Diganu'iB bead
— and who put that mark on the boy? lli» Mother ;
the same fingers inscribed both ." «,

•%Vf

■« .3*,.t4i-.»'J/^V; ViiLi: ',> '*» /

f*/

Chretien wais incensed with anger, and could not
ijestrain his feelings — " Avaunt ! said he, pushing her
away — if they are Brother and Sister, then as Louise is
a friendless orphan, Diganu is her rightful protector ;
and shall be her defender and supporter, until this
mystery is explained and their relationship is proved."

!>.«',

"He shall not" — said the two Priests together, and
instantly rushed towards the bridal pair. Diganu and
Louise had only time to exchange the kiss of affection,
with her fervent " God bless you, Diganu, adieu !"
•re the Priests and the two women, with some assis-
tants whom they had concealed to aid in their wicked-
ness, overpowered the young men, snatched the shriek
ing and screaming Louise away, and hurried her
through the. sacristy, so that they saw her no more.

Diganu, Chretien, and their friends were equally
alarmed and stupified at this outrage ; and especially
when, in endeavoring to escape from the church, they
found all egress precluded. The Priest who had visi-
ted Diganu, with the two women and the two squaws,
fiad disappeared with the Sacristan, when Louise was
carried off; and every means to ascertain the fate of
Louise was destroyed by their inability to escape from
the church. During this interval, the women and the
Priest and Louise had proceeded in a covered carriole

*rih

(bwards Qu^lic, m that all porsuit wonM have been

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•^

While they were thus agonized for Louise, and t or-
xified for their own safety, after a tedivois time, he
Sttcriotan again entered, and the Cure instantly be^ an
to reproach Diganu and Chretien, menaced them ^ ith
all the curses of his church, and the tevrors of the civil
IbM^r, if they did not quietly depart. " You are guilty
of sacrilege— said the Priest — and you have defiled the
('Consecrated place, by raibing a tumult and making a
•contest within these holy walls. Retire from the vil-
Tage withotit delay ; and be thankful if no worse pun-
tahment befal you." ^ ..v.; ..;;.,; ylrr*^

[\'-}M\m ,:Ki;oi^<

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^ '«!

THE DISCOVERY.

I pun-

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Well, thou art gone, a 'ii left ;

But, O ! how cold anu aark to me.
This world, of every charm bereit,
Where all was beautiful with thee !'*

X Digaau and his friends returned to Quebec with
unutterable emotions of sorrow and disappointment.
The melancholy feelings of survivors after the inter-
ment of a beliwed relative are ecetacy, compared with
their sufferings. Upon their arrival at Diganu-s house, .
the feast was spread ; but she, who was to have been
its head and ornament, had vanished. During the
evening, Chretien detailed some of the more interest-
ing facts which Louise had narrated ; and his friend
was partially soothed by the unanimous decbion of
their companions, that it was very probable she was
his sister ; and that although it was terrifying to re*
fleet upon the mode of separation and the parties who
had effected it, still it was preferable to the mar*
riage, even though Diganu and Louise would have
been excusable, from ignorance of their near relation-,
ship. > ' . r

Nevertheless, Diganu and Chretien could not \30
satisfied. Having resolved to discard the Priests alUh
g«ther, they determined to bring the matter to a jadi-

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Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

cial investigation. They applied to Rohoirsic, a law- ^,
yetf whose well known opinions of the Priests justified
their hope that the labyrinth might be explored. He
undertook the cause with great alacrity ; and assured \
them that he would never relax in the pursuit, until the
mystery of iniquity was revealed. The grand difficulty
consisted in selecting the person upon whom tu fix the
charge of criminality. It appeared thai the Cure
could only be summoned as a witness, because to
involve him as an accessary, would preclude all the
testimony which his knowledge of the other persons
might elicit. The women were entirely beyond cog-
nizance. Rohoirsic advised that Diganu and Chretien
should have an interview with the Roman Prelate ;
and from the manner in which he Was affected by the
information the ulterior proceedings could be partly
determined. Soon after they communicated unto that
Papal ecclesiastic, the main facts only respecting the
proposed marriage, and the outrageous manner in
which the bride had been forcibly abduced by the
Priests. . ■ ' ■, ^- ,■; . . ., -.,,-. -^f.j^.

"Ehbien! well — said the Prelate— and were you
not aware of the mortal sin you were about to comiixit 7"

" How, Monsieur ? — replied Diganu— I do not com- *
prehead what sin there cotddbe in marrying, according
lo the law of God and man, the object of a pore and
sincere affection."

<^^"

\S' Rut you have said — retorted the Jesuit— that the

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com-
rding v

s and :::^

fr, *

91 ft

yottiig woman had been dedicated to the church, and
to the holy life of the convent."

^ " i>oint du tout, not at all — interposed Chretien— tl|e
Prie$t said eo, but Louise herself and we denied it."

■•''K

*^ Ah ! — said the Bishop, assuming an air of pompous
mitred dignity, rind prelatical contempt for his visitors-—
and do you think that I shall believe the assertions of
two disorderly young men in preference to a Priest of
our Holy Church ? Besides, you say that the young
woman was your sister — how can you dare to come to
me with a complaint of this kind ?"

" S'il vous plait, if you please — replied Diganu — I
stated, that the Priests who stole Louise from me
affirmed that she was my sister ; but they offered no
proof of that fact."

■ ' *" How can you dare to dispute or even disbelieve the
word of a Priest ? — answered the Pope's legate, his
whole countenance bemg inflated with wrath — know
you not that resistance to the authority of the lawful
Priests is rebellion against God, not to be tolerated«ven
in thought, much less in woid and in action ? For this
contumacy, you merit the censures of the Church, and
I shall direct your Cure to that effect. Before he ab-
solves j'ou, I shall see that you have done ample pen-
ance, and that the Church receives full satisfaction.
When you next take a young woman to live with you,
remember that you do not entice a Postulante or a

■? ■

' ■ ' *"'''*fiwn'*^r

j^ovice. Souvenez vous de moi, partez ; remember me»
depart.'*

l^bis convereadoa was convincing proof that the
Jesuit Prelate was acquainted with all the circumstan*
ces, and that the pontifical shield would be advanced
to screen and defend his subordinate ecclesiastics.
Diganu and Chretien reported their interview to the
attorney, who merely remarked — " we must see the
Cure of Lorette."

r{> imri\-

■y?"

Two of the intended nuptial party accompanied
Rohoirsic, Diganu and Chretien ; and after much diffi*
culty were introduced to the Cure. — " I regret to trouble
you — said the lawyer — but suits are ordered to be in-
stituted against you and your Sacristan, and others, for
the forcible abduction of a young lady during the
matrimonial ceremony. Notwithstanding, I am au-
thorized toojTer you, that if you will become Icing's evi-
dence, the civil action, and the criminal information,
so far as you are concerned, shall be withdrawn."

"Bin verite, truly — answered the Priest, not in the
least moved — and who — casting a lowering glance at
Diganu and 'Chretien — will have the effrontery to sup-
port those allegations ?"

"" Cela n'importe, that is of no importance — replied^
Rohoirsic — a heinous offence against all that is holy in
the sight of heaven and earth has been committed by
three of your Priests ; and if there be any law and
justice in this province, you shall receive their award."

•m

Fjprfi^

\ -:

. /

',' #

" Do you understand, Sir—reiorted the Cure, with
much apparent Haag-froid and disdain — to whom, and
of whom you talk in this unprecedented style ? are
you not aware of the danger which attaches to your-
self, and much more to your companions and he
turned up his nose, curled his lip, and elevated his
head with well simulated oriogance and contempt — by
your threatened proceedings ?"

■i.-4 -*

" Je vous comprens, I understand you — indignantly
responded the lawyer — but Me^piseyour threats equally
as your favors — and as for all the ruffians at your com-
mand, I defy you and them Long have I been en-
deavoring to ferret out your secret abominable proceed-
ings ; now I have a perfectly sufficient clue, and in
spite of the craftiness of the Bishop and all the Jesuits
in Canada, I will not desist until this mystery of wicked-
ness is unravelled. If you will come forward and
testify what you know, you shall be exonerated ; if
not, I forewarn you, that there is ample evidence to
convict three of your order, and to send you into that
safe keeping, where yotk will not have the power to
kidnap young women as victims for your sensuality ."^

The Cure was manifestly disturbed at this bold and
\U(icquivocal denunciation. It implied a knowledge of
the arcana of their lives, which, in the hands of so in-
flexible an enemy and scrutinizer, might lead to very
Unpleasant and perilous developments. After a pause;
therefore, the Cure mildly rejoined — " this matter can
possibly be compromised. Your demand, however, is

H- ^\ 8* .- . ■; rf^i a4 ■ -f"

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■■■i^i

.•|^v«ry ■■ ■■*

^-Abiii^^ft

■'- ' ■'"nmm m m**' ^

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qM witliia my power ; but I will lubiDit the whole
oaie Co the Biihopi and inform you of bis decidoD."

** Gela ne vaut rien, this avails not — answered the
lawyer — the Prelate is already apprised of this master. :
He has been uonsulted, and is a virtual accessary to the '
crime, probably both before and after the outrage. This '
was implied in his own declaration. Instead of direct-
ing his censures against these violators of female purity,
and these transgressors of all right, law and decorum,
he palliates their enormity, pleads the official character
of the criminal perpetrators, and denounces the loudest
thunders of ecclesiastical indignation against the in«
jured, agonized sufferer, who has been robbed of his
consolation, and his most precious treasure."

'" If the facts be as you describe them— artfully re-
plied the Priest — it will be preferable for me to represent
them to my ecclesiastical superior. He will receive my
statement with more regard than a complaint from the
laity."

This Jesuitical finesse was manifestly to gain time.
But the lawyer decided, that as the delay would not
affect the despatch of any legal proceedings, some dis-
covery might be made during the interval, especially
as Louise had promised that Diganu should hear from
her ; and although that event was scarcely to be an-
ticipated, yet in her case it was not impossible. Upon
these terms the parties separated. .^ . ^../sv

. As the Cure delayed hie answer Co the proposal made

'/■

r .

to him, Rohoinio again informed bim that lie had ob-
tained overwhelming evidence to couvia the partiei}
and that all attempts to evade the investigation would
be fruitless, as the Governor was informed of the ex-
traordinary circumstances connected with the affair of
Lorette, and had promised his executive interference,
if the ordinary legal process should not be sufficient to
elicit the truth.

This communication, being too authoritative to be
resisted, was effectual. A few days after he had re-
ceived it, the Cure thus replied to the lawyer — '' I am
directed to state, that as speedily as practicable, an "ex-
plicit answer will be given you concerning the whole

case.

*ii-

Nearly three months had elapsed when the detested
Pretre, who before had destroyed their peace, entered
the house. Diganu and Chretien recoiled at the sight
of him, as if a black snake had darted upon them.
His features and manners appeared to be totally
changed. The former Hbore an aspect of benignityi
atid the latter were polished and affable. The friends
expressed not the most distant courtesy, or any tokei^
of civility. "I come— Hsaid the Jesuit, after a pause,
as if he had expected them to inquire into his object —
to pacify youc minds respecting Louise."

It was a cunning prelude. He well knew that het
name would constituUSa charm and his passport to an
imdience. Piganu and Chretien nodded assent, am)

■^ ^ .

-■:. .xY

the latter said — " on that account we are willing to

receive your communication

*' Your marriage—<x>ntinued the Pretre— could not
Iiave been permitted on account of your fraternal rela-
tion" — Diganu hnstil interrupted him with this re-
mark — "That remains to be proved. 1 know so much
of your knaviHh artifices and impostures, that I will
now believe nothing where the interests of your church
and of your order are concerned, though all the Priests
in Canada swear toils truth."*"'* ' '^

■^^.

^ A momentary flush of wrath passed over the Je-
suit's countenance, which was imniediately followed
by a derisive smile. " Diganu— replied the Priest — it
is of no importance what you and your friend believe.
No other mode of impeding an unlawful marriage ex-
isted. Circumstances may be true, which it is difficult .
or dangerous to prove. It will be ruinous to you to
'produce the testimony which shall absolutely convince
you of the certain tact that you arc the son of Louise'f?
mother."

" What care I for ruin ? — retorted Diganu, over-
powered with distress — who am 1 1 what am I / what
have I been 7 Who, except Chretien, cares fqr me ?
What difference should I feel, if to-morrow I were seized
and shipped to Europe ? I should only have to rely upon
my own exertions to obtain comfort, there, the Fame M
1 have to do in Quebec ?" vj: -rh^v-\ -^ ;■•■* jfe'f^'-v. ,:, ,-

■ '»''.:■

Hiv^--

*-s

*.;jr-^'^« .

When he bad thus efiuaed his half ihougbUats solilp^
quy ; the Priest resumed bis remarks. ** Non pas fl
?ite, not so fast ; who watched over you in infancy 7
who provided for you in youth ? who contrived for you
a tolerable education ? who suppUed your wants? who
advised you to engage in business ? and who has often
befriended you, when you wanted pecuniary assistance
to carry it on successfully ?"

i-%1

r''.

*•;!

'' Chretien and his father — answered Diganu — i*.ni
except Louise, I never yet saw any other human crea-
tures who appeared to feel the least solicitude respect-
ing me." *

" Tres bon, very good ! — ^added the Pretre — then
you suppose that Chretien's father, for so many years,
has shewn all this kindness to you for nothingjiitflfr out
of his own small income ?" 5^* SJb« '^

A, gleam of light suddenly irradiated their minds p^>wi».
and there was a mingled ^ash of surprii ?.nd inquiry
indicated by the countenances both of Eiganu and
Chretien. The Priest instantly perceived the advan^
tage which he had so dexterously attained — " C'est
assez, it is enough — he next remarked — there is
another reason for Louise's separation from you. She
is strongly suspected of having imbibed very heretical
notions from an old woman whom she was appointed
sometimes to visit, that she might understand how to
perform the offices of charity for the sick, the poor, and
the afflicted. That old woman was discovered, after

.f-y

^<•l»,^«H»l^ -'•-

r.*t#n.>«U «. .% 1.

- ' ,-iS*

r«'

her death, to have been an apoetate from our holy
mother, (he Church." — Here Diganu and. Chretien
amiled, and involuntarily displayed a look of con-
temptuous aversion ; which was noticed by the Jesuit
*^I understand you, — he subjoined — but more of that
point hereafter. This is now the reason for her being
reihoved from you ; although after your avowed inti
macy, even your mutual conviction that she is your
sister would render her residence with you improper ;
and as she was originally designed for the convent, it is
determined to restore her to her retirement and duties,
that she may be reclaimed from her heresy and disobe-
dience to the Church." ;„

•"^'v,-,'-

"It is all unavailing — replied Diganu — I am resolved
at all risks to know her fate, and to have the fact,
that Louise is the daughter of my Mother demonstra-
led to my satisfaction."

•^ " I warn you — said the Priest— that your obstinacy
in this respect, Diganu, will be not only your own
ruin ; but that it will be attended with the greatest
danger to ail your associates who were recognized in
the church at Lorette, when your incestuous marriage
was so seasonably interrupted." ^ , ■■^mm

-.{ "Why was not our relationship commutiicated
before? — asked Diganu, with irritated impetuosity — "it
is evident that the place where Louise was concealed
was known to some of your ruffian gang." — A strong
49xpression of angry, scornful emotion here perturbed

.- t

.is.

-ijfjrayr--

•-,m{>^ .w,v-».'w*>»!s

»ii»i«, •' iM '■■irifitit- ■rf3t«<.'.*^' 1

: k

*-\

. >

%*-

^•,

for a momtot the etherwise serene features of the
Pretre — "and she might have baen left to me — said
i)iganu — at least, that I might experimentally under-
stand what one of the endeared connections of domestic
life includes." ^^'

'' I have told you already — replied the Priest, with
his first suavity of manner — that no evidence could
have been adduced to convince you, without involving
you both in more misery than even your sudden and
coerced separation. Yuur mind will speedily be at
rest by an attachment for another female, and Louise
will be restored to the bosom of the Church, from which
she has so perversely or thoughtlessly strayed."

" Jamais ; rion jamais ; never, no never !-— said

Diganu, with fervid excitement — no force, no tortures

will ever induce Louise, while she is in her senses, again

^ to be united with your abominable craft." a,

" Tres excellent ; most excellent ! Diganu — an-
swered the Pretre — then Louise has improved her time
nobly. I perceive that either love or folly has infected
you with her own mania." „ ^ ^ j, j..,

*' Mania or not — returned Diganu, with unguarded
exasperation — I speak as 1 feel ; and will do it in full
at the proper time and place. I believe your religion
(Dhave been contrived in hell, and that y(|u,Boman
Priests, are no better than fiends incarnate." * .'u '

Chretien was terrified at bis friend's imprticlent an^

-•#

100

ihitig«rouf sincerity. The Jesuit contrived, however, to
tonceal his exacerbated feelings, while he replied with
all the composure which he could possibly assume—" I
Cbank you for your candor ; your avowal now places
us upon a different relation to each other. Know
then, Diganu, I dread neither your opinions nor your
statements ; and of this fact you have full proof by
my visiting you alone in your own house. Had t
been afraid of your menaced legal proceedings, or of
Rohoirsic, or the King's Bend i, or even of the Gover-
nor, I shonld not have risked my person by appearing
unto you; and had Chretien withdrawn from the room,
f should have suspected his intention to procure help
to detain me, and should have fled. The wretched
consequences, whatever they might have been) would
have fallen upon yourself alone." ,, ^^

. **- w:

This practical avowal of daring fearlessness perplex-
ed Diganu. It seemed that his tormentors, by some
inscrutable means, had him so completely in their
power, that they could make him, just as they pleased,
the foot-ball of their amusement. His fortitude was
not relaxed, but he began to falter in his pertinacity^
The lynx-eyed Jesuit discerned his internal conflict^
and adroitly seized the occasion additionally to embar-
rass hinA. " Diganu — said he— I come here as your
ftiend" —

rf^'-

f HW

" Friend !^ — retorted the eon of sorrow, ^vehemenUy
interrupting him — then what is friendship but a name ?
if you are a friend, what is an enemy V* ,. . ;i4.

101

.>„.

*< We skall not now enter apon abtiraot discussioni^
continued the Pretre — I have businew of more interest.
I repeat my declaration, that I come to visit you as a
friend. Nothing can alter the fact, that Louise is your
sister. All the authority of the government cannot
discover her retreat, or if that could be ascertained, dare
not attempt to remove her. You will see her no more,
* I presume, in this world. Cela suffice, that is sufficient.
But you are free, capable of enjoyment ; and if you
bad continued In your dutiful ohedicuco to the Church,
you might have l)een prosperous and happy, without
trouble. Now you are denounced by the Bishop us a
heretic."

" Je ne m'en soucis pas, I caic not — Diganu scorn-
fully uttered — who, what is he ? a fit confederate for
the ungodly Priests who were at Lorette." «

" Prenez garde, take care ! —subjoined the Priest-^
how you utter your opinions upon these subjects to
others. I excuse Uiem from the agitation of your
feelings, and the species oT delirium which comes over
you ^hen you think and talk of Louise. Great painp
have been taken to mollify the Bishop, whose high
ecclesiastical dignity you so deeply offended, and whose
apostolic spiritual aulhority you so contumeliously
defied. I know that you are on incorrigible heretic —
Chretien stared with astonishment—do not affect sur-
prise—said the Pretre, addressing himself to Chretien—
you also are placed upon the list of the suspected, and
nothing but a strict and uninterrupted conformity tf>

A'^

I'"

lOtt

(ti'

Ti%d|''

& lli« of die ChuTcli anci tld coxmn^flilf of i(0
heaveii^appoitited Priests, Will save you froin the
ttfrota of that sentence of greater tizcommiinkationi
Wbi<ih it denoances against all apostates." — At this
folly, Diganu looked unutterable dislike, mingled with
profound contempt for such a fallacious description and
such an arrogant claim. — " I know thdt you are a
heretic, Diganu — the Pretre continued— but you are
pitied on account of disappointment, which on your
part was involuntary ; and you both are respected for
your delivering Louise from her danger, and for your
subsequent tender care and brotherly protection of her.
This has been explained to the Bishop, who was
soothed by the account of your kindness to your sister,
and he has condescended to remove from you the
censures of the Church which he had pronounced.'*

■(•^

-V

t : \ ■ f-

"I care neither for his censure nor his praise-^
answered Diganu — I saw enough of him to induce me
to have no more connection either with him, or with
any of his inferior Pests of this province."

"Hear me — added the Jesuit, with an unaltered
countenance and tone — you will be indulged in your
heresies without notice, provided that you do ^ot
assail the sacred persons and characteni of the holy
priesthood." — Diganu ejaculated — "Holy Priests! then
what is devilish ?" — The Pretre seemed not to hear
him. " The same persons unknown to you — he con-
tinued — who hitherto have directed your junior course,
will be always ready to serve you ; but it is upon one

-,* R ■■■■•

, -,-,1. '"

•lif:*

■•■' «:'

••-1K:

103

condition only — that you withdraw all legal measure
in referenqe to your separation from Louise) and that
you never again publidy iutroduce that painful ^ur-

rence.

ir-A.^

rii**.,

.i?i,-.j*i'

:.-._.. -*'.

" O'est impossible, it is impossible ! — replied Dlganu
— 1 never shall be, 1 never can be at peace, until
the mystery respecting my relation to Louise is satis-
factorily explained." , • V ' ^ -*;!

"Once more I repeat— rejoined thePretre — it cannot
be done personally to you. Those mdividuais to > horn
yi have alluded, as far as practicable, wish to relieve
: jour anxieties upon that point, and have proposed a
"^plan, to which, if you accede, all disputation will for-
ever be termiuuted. Will you confide in Monsieur
Rohnirsic ? — will you consent to any arrangement
which he may mak« '/ And if he can be conviuced
thieit Louise is your si»ter, will you be contented ?"

i^vi)*!;

->,-»-.. >>-£

Diganu cast an inquiring look upon Chretien. Af^
ter a short pause — " I doliot want your answer thig
evening — said the Pretre — r^ect upon the subject
when you are more composed. Consider whether the
complete assurance of your confidential advocate, and
in tifis case his own inclinations will make him faithn
ful to you, would settle your own mind. If you (dease,
consult your professional adviser ; and I will see you
again for your ultimate decision." >>,

Bjf Cbretie«'s advice, Diganu accepted this pro-

.4i-

-mmms^-<.

■ "riiri'i'%l**^fl4""

^¥

'Uj.

'104 . '-'^'''- . <U

jaosition : and immedldtely after expressing his assent,
the Priest saiil— " To prove that the parties with whom
you are so deeply offended, for what you consider their
unpardouable outrage, have no design further to pain
you, I am requested to present you this trifle — offering
him a bag— not as a conipensation for your anguish;
but to reimburse your expenditures for Louise."

" Trasfi ! — replied Diganu, contemptuously spurn-
.ing at the proffered gold — what can recompeube me
for the pungent sorrow which I have endured ?"

^ " t repeal— said the Pretre — that the contents of
this bag are not intended as a cordial for your sorrows,
but as an act of justice. To a young man with a
small business, just entering active life, the additional
expences to which you were subject, through the sick-
ness of Louise, and her residence \i ith you, are hot
unimportant. Chretien, take charge of tliat bag ;
probably Diganu yet may be induced to accept its con-
tents for the sake of his sister. Bon soir ; good night !''
and he hastily departed. ;," ^ ^'

* Chretien was gratified to perceive, that through this
interview with the Priest, Diganu's heart gradually
became more resigned, and more disposed to credit the
statement, that Louise was his sister. If c sn a dehi-
sion, Chretien judged, that the only method to allisviate
Diganu's grief was to encourage his belief of it, for aH
hope of ever meeting Louise again was a palpable de-
ception. Chretien therefore encouraged the sentiment^

^r^.

, \'^-

"■■'v

-«»j(j«y(«»-'*-'--

wW** *'7*T'w*wWPT98i

.^p

X ■'■•<^'

10&

until Digana began to consider that their separation,
under all the circumstances, if he was her brother, was
preferable, while he felt not the least abatement of
:liis detestation, either for the mode or the agents.

Sou^e days after the Jesuit's visit, a parcel for Diganu
was received, which, upon being opened, contained a let-
ter and a large package of iouis d'ors. Diganu request<<«
ed Chretien to count them, to replace them in the bag,
and to seal it, while he perused the letter. He had
read but a few lines, when he betrayed great agitation.
After a moment's reflection, he arose, aod drew from
his desk the letter which he had tbrmerly received,
prohibiting his marriage with Louise. " C'est le meme,
it is the same — he said — most extraordinary !" Chretien
inquired ^the cause of his emotion. " Another letter —
answered Diganu — in the same hand-writing as before.
We must unravel this strange circumstance." — The
letter was evidently written by the same woman who
had despatched the former terrifying scroll.

To Diganu.

"It is of no use, Diganu^ to oppose the truth. Lpuise
is your sister. I tell you again, as you heard at Lorette,
the same motherly hands stamped the cross on both
3^our heads, on purpose that you might be recognized
whenever it might be necessary to interfere in your
concerns. Father and Mother, you and Louise never
knew, although you have never been from unCzt their
control. From this time, they will have no further
concern with you. Louise is as comfortable as her

heretical temper will allow. She Jias made both you

M^^-

->^'.

iffi^i

T^^?I|V'IS»^;=

>v .^

106

and Chretien heretics: but the Holy Bishop and Priests^
mercifully believing that you are not now exactly in
your right mind, postpone their sentence against you^
You must give up your law-suits, or else worse will^
come upon you. You received a letter before, and
you found every word of it true. Remember, thereforcj
my present advice Hearken to the Priest's proposal.

JiTou shall not bring the business to a trial. The
Lawyer will not be touched ; because as he is such an
enemy to the Bishop and the Priests, if any harm
should come to him, their Reverences would be char-
ged with having instigated it ; but for the rest of
you no person is concerned. Therefore mark me —
if you persist in your obstinacy, Louise will die un-
known and where no earthly power can ever discover
it ; and you, Diganu, with Chretien, shall follow her,
struck by an invisible hand, and in such a manner,
that the world shall pronounce you both suicides after
your exit. I have sent you some money; make a
right use of it. Attend to your business. Never
gamble ; that is the road to ruin. Get all the money
you can. Never trouble yourself about the Priests and
Nuns. Be cautious what kind of a woman you marry.
Do not talk about our religion. Keep your mouth
close. Watch your neighbors. Take care of your-
self and your money ; then you can do as you please.
Mind number one ; and all will be well ! Adieu ! thi^

' is the last that you will ever hear of Louise !"

■;i, . ■ # # # *•

^ •' Tres bon ; very good !— «aid OhretiiBn— -the old.

■*;■;

:m.

'"''utt*^^^''""''''' " ■"■'

,y.i.aaw»»^'.a nijl WW Hn .t

h t ^■:i.

iiag, as Louise truly named her, knows the ways of
the world."

"It is very surprising, Chretien — remarked Diganu
— that your father and mother, who brought me up,
should never have ntentioned any hint of all these
matters. Do you chink it possible, that they are igno-
rant of what the Priest explained, and what this letter
implies?

" Cerlement, certainly ! — replied his friend — I have
iieard my father and mother often declare, that they
knew nothing about you ; except that when they went
to Quebec, they always stopped at one house, and
soon after they arrived, a man or woman used to call
and inquire for you, find out what you wanted, and
give them clothes for you, and groceries and other do-
mestic supplies, as much as they wished. But who
they were, or where they lived; they do not know at
this hour and I was only ten years old, when we first
eame together to Quebec."

, "^'

Diganu and Chretien soon visited the lawyer, re-
counted the conversation with tlie Jesuit Priest, and
shewed the letter which had been received, prior to the
affair at Lorette, and that dehvered a fbw days before
their interview. " There is — remarked Rohoirsic — an
appearance of truth about this circumstance, which
involves prudential questions of great importance.
Doubtless^ Louise is immured in some dungeon where
no earthly power can save her ; and it is not less cer-

i):

r'')ifm^0^mmm!!i

W':

«•

108

iain, that to hinder the legal investigatioQ of the sfory
of Louise, that they will execute their vengeance. If
they resolve to murder, nothing can save you. The
Priest^ order will be obeyed ; his servile tod has no
conscience, but the.Pretre's command. Even could
the investigation be pursued to its close, and ihe fact
that Louise was Diganu's sister be proved, it would
only secretly banish those ruffians from the province,
by episcopal mandate ; while your lives, as they de-
clare, would immediately be sacrificed. Against their
wiles, I am convinced, that there is no security; be-
cause any plan which they project, will be joyfully un-
dertaken ; and by representing you as two heretics,
their ignorant disciples would fancy themselves dis-
playing to God their highest service and allegiance
when they deprive you of life. Pefore you see the
Priest again, I shall doubtless hear from the Cure,
and I will advise you without delay what answer to
return to him." ^

'■

On the following day, the Priest of Lorette called
upon Rohoirsic ; and after stating that there were in-
trinsic and peculiar difficulties in the case, proposed,
that the counsellor should urge upon his client the
acceptance of the Priest's proposal. " The parties are
wilhng — said the Cure — to confide to you full proof of
the relationship between Diganu and Louise, upon
your engagement of inviolable secrecy. No evidence
can be more satisfactory ; but the whole is of so deli-
cate a nature, that a public scrutiny never will be ad-
mitted, under any pretext or claim; and it will be

.**=t# 4WI*«I»M*«S- -,«l, V** i^'**'* »i-*-

<*•

;' V-

109

evaded in spite of all the civil authorities." — The law*
yer expressed his acquiescence ; and the Priest, to se-
cure his favor, told him to accept no fee from Diganu.
" If you can terminate the affair — added the Cure —
you shall be amply remunerated for your mediation."

During ihe interval from the strange Priest's visit to
Diganu, Chretien ttiought, th^t the evidence was so
plausible as to authorize belief, or deeming it fruitless to
persevere, he had exerted all his influence to procure
Diganu's consent to the offer. His grand argument
was this, that as the parties could not unveil the
whole mystery, Diganu could not be more satisfied ;
that if the lawyer was convinced, no additional evi-
dence was requisite ; and t hat as Rohnirsic was so
embittered against the priestcraft, and so shrewd in
discovenrig a fraud, it was most probable that they
W(Miid not attempt to impose upon him, as it would
only now give him a new advantage over them. This
impression was increased by the Counsellor's views
and opinions, who engaged, that he would admit
nothing less as truth, than testimony which would
convince Diganu and Chretien, if it were submitted
unto them.

The next evening the Priest entered. He accepted
Diganu's promise, cautioned him to be wary in the
expression of his opinions, and admonished him much
to the same purport, as the woman had done, in the
letter which be had received. " This business will be
closed to-mgrrow — he added; as he was retiring— on

11:

<*■

.,)

' tS ^"' * ?' ^ ^-^ ' " ' E ' «""* " * *''*' '••

tio

tli« next day, you will hear firom your CooiMellior : after
which, I flhall see you once more ; till then, Adieu t"

; 'at} .*f my^:. in . ■

Diganu and Chretien very impatiently waited for the
lawyer's information. About the time designatetl by
the Priest, he visited them. As soon oJa he entered,
Digaiui's feverish excitement, mingled with his sorrow-
ful agitation, compressed all bis feelings into a short
question which he abruptly proposed to Rohoirsic. " Is
it true/" said the youth ; but he read the reply in his
features, before the words were uttered — " Louise with-
out doubt is your half sister. " Diganu replied — " then,
one half of my burden and my grief is at once re-
moved. Can you give me any of the evidence which
has produced that conviction in your mind 'J^\

' "Every thing, of course — answered Rohoirsic—
which could involve any of the parties in certain abso-
lute disgrace has been concealed, as well as theic
names : but ample circumstantial proof has been pre-
sented to me, that you are the children of different
fathers by the same mother. Two baptismal registers
have been produced in which two children are recorded
as still living. Francis 1). is the eldest ; and you are
described as having a peculiar cross with a 1) marked
on your crown ; I should recognize it at once." Diganu
offered his head for inspection — "the very same — ^added
the lawyer, after a close scrutiny; then addressing
Chretien — did you ever notice this remarkable ov^
figure?" — Chretien replied — "not particulfu^Iy ; but a
aimihu: mark in Louise's cross was very distinguisha^

•^5%

tTmrnfi "^M

tuiimmm

«a»»l»4.»*«C»

.•^^r^i\f^t0i^0^?***''''"''^'''' '■

Ue.'* The kwyer thus explaiaed his meaniog--*' that
mark was intended to pmnt out to the parents only, in
case 6f neeeswity, the mother. It is a capital Greek
Theta; and divulges the two first letters of her name."
Diganu instantly nsked— "are you acquainted either
with that or the nameet of our fatliers?" i^^^

;^'

"No— returned the advocate— except that the D in
your cross was the initial letter of his name, as the M
in the cross of Louise was the first letter of her father's
appellative ; these particulars were all that were men-
tioned. From the details which you have given, and
from a combination of various circumstances, 1 might
indulge a suspicion : but these Jesuits are so deceitfii],
that where their craft is coucerned, you can safely rely
upon nothing which they say or do. But now 1 have
to ask you one question. Descrite the person of
Louise?" Diganu and Chretien portrayed her min*
utely — "The very same— -observed the lawyer»>>and
in the baptismal register, she is recorded as Louise M.;
the sister of Francis D., and sixteen months younger,
with a similar cross on her forehead and the letter M in
it." Chretien remarked — *' Nothing can be more alike
than the two crosses ; and Diganu and I often men-
tioned that other mark in Louise's croi^^. although we
knew not the design." The advocate added — "Nothing
therefore can be more clear than the fact, that the M
was her father's initial letter."

" How old then am I ?" inquired Diganu. "That
was not comuiuuicated-Tt answered Rohoirsic— -butyou

■ V i

) ■

If 1

113

IAttotl)e about the age of Chretien, beeaute his tnoCb^
partly euckled you when he was an infant* I presume
however, tliat you are a few months older than he is :
but upon these topics, all possible reserve was main-
tained. Nothing was unfdded, except it tended to
verify the main fact, nnd of thatt I have no doubt."

The lawyer then proceeded to state acme general
circumstances respecting Louise, her living at Point
aux Tremble*?, her visit to Jacques Cartier, her rescue
at Lorette, her boarding at the house where Diganu
had first stationed her in Quebec, and some other
matters to which neither Diganu nor (Chretien had
adverted ; which proved, that the parties who bad made
known those things had secretly watchetl their conduct ;
and therefore on this subject, might surely be cre-
dited. But when the counsellor proceeded to identify
Diganu in the same manner, by details of his early
life, progress, pursuits, occupations, and many other
private occurrences only known to Chretien and his
early domestic associates, his remaining incredulity
vanished away, and he fully acknowledged — " Per-
sons so minutely acquainted with these trifling and
almost obliterated events of my junior years must be
mysteriously connected with me, and therefore in a case
of this nature their evidence is admissable."

" This is my decided opinion — ^replied Rohoirsic —
not that they have voluntarily made this disclosure.
They have been intimidated, and dreading the open
exhibition of a crime, which, only ia its prominent

t ,

113

.Jl':

•et, the forcible abduction of a female in the midit of
the nuptial ceremony, would excite an unappea^uie
commotion, they have preferred that you should escape
their fangs, and that I should be at liberty to imagine
whatever 1 please."

" But what shall I do with the money which hap
been transmitted to me ?" inquired Diganu. " That
is well introduced — answered the lawyer — I am per-
suaded, that to some of the parties, who were the pro-
minent agents in the transaction at Lorette, you are
indebted for your birth, tuition, and the facilities which
you have received in conimeucing and carrying on
your business. This was not disiinctly stated, but ft
was intimated, that your connections who had assisteil
you before, are now so enraged at your conduct, thai^
they have determined no longer to befriend you. lO'
fact, they dread lest by some means, the medium by
which you have been aided with cash and credit shoulf.
be traced ; and therefore they will preclude all discoverer
by leaving you in future, entirely to yourself Retain
their presents ; then if they discard you, the impression
that you possess superfluous wealth will enable you to
choose the best connectionai One fact however was
plainly declared ; if you close the threatened litigation i
the persons who have educated you will not permit
you ever to be destitute and dependent."

" I sludl insist upon one condition — added Diganu—;
and for it you must obtain a sufficient guarantee; that
if Louise dies before me, I shall be made acquainted!

■ %

'V. =.

aHfmrntm** m i""

MMIWNMWMW

rtt^m '

fh?

114

Vith her deeeasA." The Counsenor anewend^^thit
ii proper ; I will haye this point fully insured."

On the same evening ibe Cure of Lorette appeared.
The other articles were easily adjusted ; but the last
claim of Diganu was pronounced iuadniissible. <' I
wish not to impose upon you — remarked Rohoirsic —
but 1 have you all now completely in my power. I shall
insist upon occasionally seeing* Louise. It is a duty
which I owe to all the parties ; for I have promised to
oonvey the information of her death to Diganii, in case
Ike should survive her." The Cure finally assented ;
and the lawyer engaged that the whole affair should be
buried in oblivion. He presented Rohoirsic his douceur
for his services, and desired him to repress all intem-
perate unguarded expressions; if Diganu and ("hretien^
tlirough youthful efTervescence, should ever introduce
them. On the subsequent night, the counsellor com-
municated to Diganu and Chretien a full detail of his
proceedings ; and they were consoled with the idea ;
that at least, they should hear of Louise's departure ;
which they anticipated could not be very distant, from
the trials which they imagined, she would be forced to
endure. Some days after, the Priest who had been
the cause of all Louise's misery entered for the last
time. *'I am come, Diganu — said the Pretre, with
great cordiality — according to my promise to see you
once more : your proceedings now prove, that you are
not totally insensible to reason, feeling, and propriety."

" Had I possessed neither— retorted Diganu — it would

118

not have been a matter of surprise. How u a human
creature to show MenHibility, who has uf\fer enjoyed a
relative's endearmeuia to keep it in exercive ; and juit
when it was beginning to awake and expand itself,
who has had its first fresh and green fruits forever
blasted." r • • .

"The lawyer has convinced you — repliedthe Jesuit ;
that your pro|x)Hed niurriii^e wus ill^^al and unnatural,
and no other secure tnude existed to annul your
contract."

" Why was not that explanation made, when it was
ascertaiiind tliat Louise was residing wiih her brother?
asked Diguiiu — then she might have been useful, and
I might have been at peace." -K

" It was perceived — said the Priest — that your aflfec-
tion had assumed that irrevocable character, which in-
dulged no expectation of any change. Besides, the
heresy of Louise exposed her to continual danger — his
countenance for once expressed great severity— and her
heresy is unpardonable."

Chretien here interposed, and with great mildness
inquired — " what is heresy ?" — The Pretre, with a
haughty air and tone answered — " Heresy ! Chretien ;
it is heresy to cead the Bible. It is heresy not to be-
lieve what your Priest teaches. It is heresy not to
attend Mass and Confession, and not to pay the church
dues : and above all, it is rank heresy, to act cantrarf
to a Priest's directions."

••Ht^aaHHDk

116 \

"But I will read the Bible—exclaimed Diganu, with
dfreat energy — I believe all that you teach is strong de-
lusion. I will never more go to Mass or Confession,
or pay a Priest one sous : and I mean to do every thing
exactly contrary to all that the Priests have hitherto
always ordered me. What am I ?"

The Jesuit, with stifled emotion, and it was the only
occasion on which his voice betrayed it, and with a
stern countenance, answered — " Ytiu are the brother
of Louise ; and an excommunicated heretic !" Digai u
instantly retoited — "Bravo! I glory ;) your brand
of the heresy and the farce of the excommunication,
for the comfort and advantages of the relationship."

"ft was no part of my object — solemnly but kindly
rejoined the Pretre — to introduce this poii>t. I come
on behalf of your former friends, to discharge my duty.
Your desire to hear of Louise as betokening a broth-
erly affection is satisfactory ; and as the lawyer has
apprised you, once more you shall hear of her ; I will
not engage that you ever see her again ! this may not
be practicable. Those persons who have hitherto in-
terested themselves for you, on account of the recent
events, are obliged to remain hereafter disconnected
from all your concerns ; but as they cannot even wish
you to be more wretched than your heresies will render
you, I am directed to offer you this &s a remembran-
cer. It is the last pecuniary favor which you may
expect to receive from them — having presented Diganu
a large parcel, he added — but now I have one requisi*
lion to make, and I will see whether a heretic can keep

...,^..

..,^,.4.,Mf^/».»»rp^^itjN»r"'

J --'iff

»!.:■-

iir

his failh with a Roman Catholic Priest." Diganu and
Chretien stared with uneasiness at this implied novel
exaction. " It is believed— continued the Pretre — that
Louise has communicated to you a number of faiaa*
hoods respecting the Priests and the religieuses— he
then fixed his searching eye upon Diganu and Chre-
tien, and asked — is it so ?"

Chretien replied—" To justify herself for the dan-
gferous condition in which we discovered her, she stated,
that she had been placed in a very distressing situation,
and that she had escaped in the commotion occasioned
by a fire in the house, where she was involuntarily
detained for pollution." The Pretre unguardedly asM
— "did she inform you in whose house it was, and the
name of the resident Priest ?" thus virtually admitting
the truth of her statement, and implying his own
knowledge of the fact.

"Not at all— answered Chretien — it was only the
hist night before we went to Lorette that she mention-
ed it, and although she identified and pointed out to
us the parties in the church, yet she declared, that she
could form no accurate conception cf the parish." The
Jesuit quickly rejoined — •' Assez, enough ! My object
in noticing this matter is to engage your promise, that
no mention shall be made by you, of any calumny
which she recounted in her delirium." Diganu in-
i^Uintly exclaimed — " delirium ! she was always sens!*
We when with us !" The Priest remarked*-'" Celo

10*

\ "

118

a'importei do mattenr, all these circumsUmces hence-
forth are to remain buried io. oblivion."

^'Certement, oertainly — said Diganu — ^but Chretien
end myself are not to be molested for our religiouft
opinionb and practices, although we know, that it is
your doctrine to keep no foiith with heretics."

« That contract is already decided — added the Pre-
tre — ^faith in this instance will be kept with you: and
now we part most probably for ever. Take my advice
young men, you are inexperienced in the ways of the
world. Contract not large debts. Entangle not your-
selves with secuntyships. Never play at games of
chance for money. Be upon your guard respecting
the females whom you may select for your wives. But
above all things, say nothing about Nuns, Priests, and
the church. Your friends, ii^ any emergnicy, wiU
assist you. Be cautious in your associations ; and
remember, that you will always be strictly watched.
Louise's comfort and your own safety essentially depend
upon your prudence — he offered Chretien his hand — I
know you well, and am willing yet to serve you, Chre-
tien— ^he remarked — maintain your affection and friend-
ship for Diganu. Adieu ! God bless you." Then turning
to Diganu, who coldly accepted his proffered salutation
he said tenderly and seriously-^" Diganu, I have long
cared for your welfare; but now my duties in that res-
pect are ended. You have ample means toestablisb
a comfortable business. Remember that Rohoirsi^
•will ever be your friend in need. Give yourself np.

;■

119

anxiety for Louise. She is safe, and as comfortable as
she can be. I shall see you again I hope, before you
or I leave this world" — ^he laid his left hand on Diganu^i
head, with apparent fervor pronounced his priestly
"Pax tecum, peace be with thee." — and immediately
disappeared. *

:, V

: ',

From that evening, years revolved, and Diganu's
Ufe was almost an entire disconnection from all man-
kind, except as the mere routine of commercial busi-
ness produced a temporary association. His soul was
almost circumscribed within himself. By his anti-
social suspicious of all who were the minions of the
Roman Priesthood, he had contracted the habits of a
recluse with none of his natural feelings ; and com-
bined the anchoret's reserve with-an enlarged philan-
thropy, in a situation, where every thing around him
repressed attachment and excited disgust. His only
companion was Chretien. Louise's bible was his chief
treasure and delight. But his constant refuge and
faithful, unchanging friend was the Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ. . ^, it»i*xu "5^ - • i f , ■ ^ . t ; ;i-; ,• ;

■#■».

t:-<^j •

\ I

NARRATIVE OP LOUISE.

■■*l:i-'-

ii^K:

" Where am I ? life's current faintly flowingt
Brings the welcome warning of release ;
Struck with death ; ah ! whither am I going T
All is well — my spirit parts in peace."

The details which follow are the abridged contents of
a manuscript that unfolded the history of Louise after
her heart-rending separation from Diganu.

<' Before these papers'Are seen by you, my bebved
brother, your Louis^^ no longer will be a resident upon
earth ; and that you will obtain a glimpse of my cha-
racter and experience subsequent to our unnatural and
wicked disunion is the result of circumstances which
shall now be revealed. It is superfluous to retrace the
events of that terrifying mom, when I was dragged
away from your protection ; but it is consolatory, that
3pou were not apprized of the wicked object, as in that,
case, a mortal conflict alone would have terminated the
scene. After our final adieu, I became totally uncon-
scious, and was hurried into the carriole which had
drawn up to transport me away, altogether insensible
Co the proceedings of those who had seized me. When
I first clearly realized my atuation, we were not more
thMi two miles from Q,uebec ; and hurrying along the

I d

intsof
aftet

ibved
upon
Echa-
dand
which
ce the

r, that

nthat.

edthe

incon-

ti had

insible

When

I more

ng^the

toad with all possible speed to the General Hospital^
where I was transferred to the insane depattsoent ; and
daring my detention, in which, I saw no person but the
Woman who, at Lorette affirmed that you are my
brother ; and the Priest from whom 1 had before es-
caped. The true but agonizing reason for our separa-
tion was soon divulged. Time had neither changed
the Priest's design, nor diminished the willingness of
his tool to aid hicn in effecting his base purpose. During
a month probably, I was tortured by their constant
artifices. Those of the female were kind and in^ua-
ting. The Jesuit's stratagems were mixed with harsh-
ness and alarm. 1 resented the female decoys as
grossly unniitirral andicauttins j t!ie Priest's meiwoiM^
1 scorned and defied. Undnnbtedly, in the friendless
and destitute condition m which they had placed me,
Lis treachery would have been executed, as I after-
wards discovered, had not your threatened law-suits
placed all the actors in a most perplexing embarrass-
ment. The miserable Nun's apparent blandishments
were obviously designed as a contrt^Ht to the Pretre'e
terrific impudence, to effect by vitiating and seducing
wiles that which could not be achieved by intimi-
dation ; so that fron^ fear of him, I might be ensnared
by her ; or if I resisted her entanglements, that I might
be entrapped by his artful and various snares.

The Jesuit constantly had two topics with which to
daunt me. My well known heresy, and the dreadful
sentence of excommunication, which he ever portrayed
in the most appalling features and from which, his grand

1 f

« V

- -|||.- .** !i|l|li«iP||l|i I I I ~*

1,^

122

'y^

object was to show, that I could be relieved solely by his
meaiu. and therefore I ou^t to secure his favorable .
interposition, the terms and price of which I knew.
My principles I defended . The censures of his Church
I ridiculed. At his favor I scoffed. And |n reference *
to his excoininunication, I remarked — "lam in your
power ; imprisoned in the maniac's ceil ; weakened by
continual privations and uninterrupted ill usage. You
can forcibly outrage and violate my person ; you can
deprive me of my faculties; or you can secretly mur- -
der me : but you can neither stiipify my conscience,
nor corrupt my heart." At other times, he charged
me with robbirij^ his house, and setting fire to it. He
would denounce afi^ainHt me all the severest punishments
of the law, and from those fearful penalties he engaged
to secure me, only for the voluntary sacrifice of my
personal purity. "Nothing — I often remarked to him^
would rejoice me so much as to be delivered up to the
civil authority upon these charges. In any possible
emergence, my situation would be amended. I might
b<e acquitted, in spite of all your arts and the witnesses
whom you could suborn to perjure themselves. In any
case, I should be released from your ungodly fangs. If
they condemned me, the verdict would be given solely
from defect of evidence, and they would not be crimmal ; \
but you would be guilty of wilful murder. At all
events, I would rather trust in the God of Providence
to deliver me, who already once has mercifully rescued
me from your wicked contrivances, or evr^n be hanged
in innocence ; than remain in wretched solitude under
your dftDgeroos control." ' ' <!■

•; ffi'

by his
irorable .
knew.
;^hurch
ference
1 your
ned by
You
ou can
y inur"* »
science,
harged
It. He
hments
ngaged

of my
to him,

to ihe
lossible

might
itnesses
In any
gs. If
1 solely
mmal ;

At aU
iridence
rescued
langed
) under

s >

168

■ \ 1

Tbus pasied my days, with no proepect of eicape
£rom my anguish. But at length, after suitable prepara*
tion, for form's sake, the Surgeon who had attended
me at Lorette was admiued ; and I wais transferred to
another apartment, but in perfect seclusion. I was
speedily after, despatched to Montreal, with the strictest
injunctions of the closest confinement. Subsequently
I was remanded to Quebec, and was introduced to your
Oounsellor ; who, unknown to you, would not consent
to any pacific arrangement, until he had seen me and
obtained all necessary explanations from your Louise
herself. To his inflexibility, I -owe all the little per*
sonnl safety and comfort which I have since enjoyed.
He contracted for my residence in Quebec ; for an
annual interview with me ; for the occasional sight of
me at the grate ; for my exemption from all trouble
and persecution on account of my religious principles ;
ibr my perfect security from all attempts to assail my
modesty ; for the free use of writing materials, and the
undisturbed possession of whatever books according to
my desires, he should' procure for me ; for a final inter-
view with you, if practicable, when near death ; and
Icn the eventual transmission to you, of whatever I
pleased to designate after my release from this vale of
tears. Notwithstanding these privileges were solemnly
guaranteed to me ; yet as they were most reluctantly
granted, as I was denounced as an mcorrigible heretic,
and as I was a resident where every person was de-
cidedly inimical to me ; my existence from that period
was, of course, an almost unvarying round of perplex*
Hy and disquietude ; except as it was alleviated by tho

*'■-

■«^..., '^-^.'itf^^itjSSpT- . ..,

"«*•

mimmmmmmimim)l0frmttm»iim^!S

■K. , •

coiutolatory troths of the Gospel of Ohrist. I was
Inrced to engage in the most menial (^ces; and
although the absolute letter of your lawyer's compact
was never so* outrageously infringed, that be could
properly have declared that his silence should be t«rmi«
nated, because they had nullified their part of the
agreement; yet every cunning artifice was adopted,
that I might be induced to become altogether like them-
selves.

The interior of a convent is the sepulchre qfgood-
nesSf and the cizstle qf misery. Within its unsanC'
tifled domain, youth withers; knowledge is extin-
guished ; usefulness is entombed ; and religion ex-
pires. The life of a Nun is a course of exterior
solemn mummery, from which all that is lovely is
ejected ; and under the vizor dwells every thing loath-
some and sorrowful. All that Marguerite implied and
described to me is practised ; and Uie chief solicitudes
and contrivances consist in their efforts to conceal from
the world at large, the secrets which appertain to
the direful prison. As I was too much hated to be
regarded as of any consequence, and was so nar-
rowly watched that nothing less than the sudden
and unforseen exercise of the power of the Goverment
could have held intercourse with me, except by the
cursory recognition and the annual interview with
your counsellor and friend on each New Year's day,
and this only in the piesence of the Superieure ; no
opportunity was afforded me to make any communi.
cation, except in the packet sealed for you, and which
the lawyer was bound to reserve until my decease^

■•■^'Htk^^nm-'^k

1 1

I was

; and

impact

could

termi-

of the

e them-

fgood-
uneanC'
8 extin-
pon ex-
exterior
lovely is
ng loath'
)lied and
slicitudes
eal from
ertain to
ed to he
80 nai-
i sudden
overment
t hy the
Lew with
jar's day,
ieure; no
tmmuni.
id which
decease..

id5

However, lioy life was not so fraught with angoith as
might have been anticipated ; not from any defect ill
(heir torturous ingenuity to diminish itii comforts and to
aggravate its hardships ; but I had found <* the peafi
of great price ;" and in him 1 found a never failing
and unchangeable friend. Often have I experienced
the fulfilment of the promise ; " as thy days are, 90
shall thy strength be :" and I can testify, during the
tedious years of my bondage and imprisonment within
the walls of the Nunnery, that the word of the Lord
is true ; " I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.''
The benevolence of your Counsellor towards me in no
point of view was more advantageous, than in the
absolute claim which he made, that I should be at
liberty to peruse the Bible, and any other books which
I could procure. He always presented me a few VO'
himesupon his visit in exchange for others ; the whole
of which books will be your portion as remembrancers
of your Louise. To adjust this point involved great
difiicukies. The Bishop and the Chaplain, with the
other Priests, by every species of crafty mana^ment,
endeavored to cancel this clause of the contract.
Rohoirsic was immovable. "1 am willing — he sternly
remarked — that f mother persons shnll even lie acquaint-
ed with the fact that Louise poHsesses those books ;
but I never will consent, that she shall be divested of
all printed ussociates, when a living companion cannot
be found for her." His peremptory tone, in connection
with their dread lest their ungodlinesss hould be pr«-
mulged, finally urged their compliance with his
vexatious demand. '--■■ - ^ i ' » »*^

*Jf??"^''f ^'ii

*f*fcr'*''^'rtP'1

V i

12G .

The most painful of all my mental exercises flowed,
not only from my being so completely isolated, but
also from the contempt with wliich all the inhabitants of
the convent incessantly assailed me. Age and youth,
mock gravity with thoughtless levity, hypocritical
grimace and open indulgence, infidel hardihood with
ceremonial apishness, the Jesuit Chaplain's insolence,
with that of his associated visiting Priests, the mimic
affectation of the iieligieuses, and the authoritative
malignity of the Superieure, all were ever arrayed
against your defenceless sister. This was the most
difficult of all my conquests. Their stupid pretences at
an argument did not in the least disturb me. Their de*
Dunciation of judgments against all heretics served
equally to show their ignorance and bigotry, and only
excited my compassion. AnC nven their tasks, severe
as they sometimes were, tended to encourage my forti*
tude and produce additional energy. But when the
youth who VK^ere taught and actuated by them, many
of whom doubtless were their own daughters, all ccm-
bined to point the finger of scorn and to spurn at me
with their puny raillery, then I have felt mortified
and excited. To master this lesson required much
time ; but one of my best supports while acquiring it,
next to the truth of the sacred oracles, was the lawyer's
assurance, that my brother and Chretien remained
steadfast and immovable int he faith and hope of the
Saviour. Eventually, however, I was enabled to van-
quish all my arrogant sensibilities ; and as the Psalmist
observes, I hope, in some measure,that " I behaved and
quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother ;

. .-' /

f
• -J

'"►*»¥«1S«P)W«,-

■*^:^*ji

'ft

'w- ■ *>*\

owed,
1, but
lilts of
^outh,
;ritical
\ with
)lence,
mimic
ritative
rrayed
e nioet
nces at
leir de-
served
id only
, severe
ly forti-
len the
I, many
ill ccm-
I at me
nortified
much
iring it,
awyer's
imained
e of the

to van-
Psalmist
Lved and

mother \

m--

>>^i

♦v

my soul was even as a weaned child." From that
period, I was enabled to cost myself and all my cares
tmreservedly upon the Lord. The language of David
was my uniform, and I think, my predominant feel-
ing — " My soul, wait thou only upon God ; for my ex-
pectation is from him He only is my rock and my
solvation." 1 had yielded up my brother; and with
you, I resigned ail that had ever truly cemented me
with earth. My constant prayer ascended to our
Father in heaven for grace for myself, that i might
forbear and l)ear all that God permitted ; and for you,
that when we ceased to live in this world, we might
liave our eternal " inheritance among the sanctified."

It Is difficult to enumerate the varied causes, attri-
butes and effects of delirium ; but I am convinced, .
tliat the whole conventual system involves a species of
infatuation borderuig on lunacy, unless it is more
appropriately transferred to vice. Jesuitical artifices
and seductions, by which persons are^insnared, may
mislead and enchain ignorant and inexperienced youth
into monastic life, as no doubt they would have entan-
gled your Louise, had not Marguerite premonished me.
To a junior, whom the Priests and Nuns are anxious
to cajole, nothing can surpass their enticements.
Youth merely glance at the surface, and all appears
robed in the very witchery of delight. To them a
Nunnery seems the haven of quietude, the garden of
an earthly paradise, and the sanctuary of all that is
devotional and spiritual. The scene is a genuine
iheatrical exhibition, in which the actors appear to be

*^ty

•'■<;at"f»**Hi & \

12&

dMoratad in all the grander characteristics of humanity;
developing its loftiest conceptions, and its most refined
emotions. Those Postulanfes and Novices alone who
are previously prepared, are admitted to survey the
interior. The blasphemy, the wretchednesH, the coarse
manners, the shameless loquacity, and the bare faced
sacrifices of truth and virtue, all are obncured, until
the pasties either already have engaged, or are willing
unscrupulously to mingle with the others, in their hypo-
critical sanctity and sensual indulgences. But the
toilsome uniformity of the monastic life renders it still

, more objectionable in principle, and insupportable ia
experience. The unchanging routine of daily cere-
monial forms, equally unintelligible and unmeaning,
only increased or diminished, according to the estab-
lished prescriptions, counteracts nil moral and intellect

Vtual energy. This deadening ^iy^tem wa» more odious
to me, because it opposed all my views ; and the para-
lyzing routine of the convent was augmented by my
alienation even from the only alternations that relieved

. the dullness of the tedious hours. lUie ordinary course
of a Nun is not less indefensible upon physical, than
upon moral principles. But if is the high curse of
popery y that it adapts itself to every cliaracter however
unseemly, and to air conditions ho ever unnatural.
By its dispensing qualifications, it is not only accom-
modated to each individual, but it can be suited to every
possible emergency. It can abrogate all lawp, trans-
form vice into virtue relax it sclainis when a Priest re-
quires gratification ; increase its demands when a Jesuit
desires revenge ; and by its variety of a)i|tamp.rpho6es,

..J-:-'...

y^ .,.-^.-

•i...

inity..

fined
who *

^ the

/Oarsc «t

faced
until

billing

hypo-
It the

it Btill

ible in

' cere- .

aning,
eetab*

itellec-
odious

e pnra-

by my

elieved
course
than
ifse of
owevei*
latural.
accom-
o every
trans-
nest re-
ft Jesuit
phoses,

129

can command what it lisU; : and in its plenitude of
power, will juotify those who obey its orders in any
rebellious act against God, and in all heinous crimi-
nality towards man. The dull monotony of the
Nunnery was also very pernicious to my health and
constitution ; because I had no stated periods of air
and proper exercise allotted to me. To understand the
views of the world without was prohibited to your
Louise. If any article of information became known
to me, it was accidental ; and to all intents, I was
immured in a large dungeon, with no expectation of
amendment or release, and with no earthly companion
from whom I could experience the least sympathy, ex-
cept when the lawyer presented me his New Year's
congratulations; and with Rosolace,except in the Scrip-
tures and at the throne of grace. In all my variety of
grief, however, I found an assured refuge in God, who
had 60 mercifully delivered me, and who often by his
spirit, transformed the gloom of my dreary solitude into
the very light of life, and devout communion with him
and with Jesus Chriet our Lord.

The delineation of one day in^, the convent will
give you a history of the whole, with very Uttle altera-
tion. While the Religieuses and their dependents
were mumbling over their Ave Marys, and theii matin
rosaries, I read my Bible, and attempted to pray to
the Father of Light, ihe Giver of every good and
perfect gift. In reference to their food, I was obliged
to partake according to their unscriptural and absurd
customs; but this I considered to be uuimportanL

XX.*.

=S>»"

■^^y;:

130

Their idolatrous festivals to me were days of real en-
joyment, because while undergoing their pretended
penance, or revelling in their sensuality, 1 was left
alone. In the same manner, when they were engag-
ed at theii vespers, I occupied the evening hour in niy
humble devotions. The genuine characteristics of
monastic life chiefly vary with the constitutional tem-
peraments of the Nuns, all which are as accurately
known to the Priests as themselves. By their artifices
at confession, they unravel every character, and trans-
form each individual into an instrument to subserve
their unholy designs. However dissonant in temper
and pursuit, all are moulded according to the Pretre'e
will. A Jesuit Priest can form no correct idea of re<
lationsbips. His whole soul is centered in himself and
in his craft. To him all the tender charities of Hfe
are utterly unknown : and as his assumed religion is
nothing more than a cloak to deceive the v/orld, and
imder its concealment to gratify his own " . .shes, the
practice of confession enables him to grasp every thing
which he may choose. My knowledge of them con-
vinces me, that very few Roman Priests indeed now
exist, who are not determined infidels. This doctrind
they teach their besotted dirciple^^, especiiilly the girls,
whom when young, they mark for their ^rey. In
every form, they ascertain their ruling dispositions ; as
they grow up, they gradually acquire over them a com-
plete ascendancy, behave to them with a familiarity
apparently only paternal, imbue them with all over-
powering ideas of their priestly indisputable authority,
iafuse a high estimate of the value of their pardon of

%■

131

aiu, and of the absolute necessity of obedience to them
in all things, attract their regard and affection by
trifling presents, accompanied with tender endear-
xnents ; and then with the aid of their female seduc-
ing adepts, find the deluded silly creature an easy and
willing victim. Often are the young women made to
believe, that they are an inferior race to the men, and
only created to administer to their enjoyments, that all
their friends and relatives are equally frail, submissive
and attached tot he Pretres,and in caseof obstinate resis-
tance, then they are reminded of all the matters which
they have acknowledged at confession, and menaced
with a public exposure of crimes, of which not only
were they incapable of being guilty, but of which they
had never heard, nor formed an idea. This is the
general result of the horrible system of confession.
Artful questions are asked, the purport of which an
innocent girl does not even comprehend. She learns,
however, from the Priest, that she has acknowledged
the commission of sins, for which she is directed to
perform an impracticable penance. This only adds
to her perplexity, and to escape from her dilemma, she
finally commutes her penance, by actually participat-
ing with the Pretre in that crime^ which he alone had
taught her.

In the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of
the body, and the future judgment, none of the Nuns
whom I ever heard tjilk at all believed, except a few,
who for their gratuitous austerities and reserve were
considered as gloomy fanatics, and who were humored

*(|^ ,

"9'' y-~^ '"

132

."•% ^',

ih:

iu their own pursuits. It is one chief part of the
mystery of iniquity, that the Priests, knowing all the
women's characters, and inchnations, and doings, re-
tain them all in subjection from fear of each other,
and thus unconsciously, and doubtless often unin-
tentionally, they assist the grand scheme of luxurious
pleasure and priestly aggrandizement. Their con-
scientious principles, so far as they have any, their
moral habits <'ind predilections, and their sincerity and
usefulness, all are absorbed in a degrading sense of
inferiority, and in a profound subjection to priestly ar-
rogance and enticements ; for of tender, afTectiouale,
and domestic relative sensibilities, they aie totally
divested.

The seclusion, inactivity, and nervous depression
which I experienced, were unfavorable to my health ;
and the symptoms of constitutional debility that I
began to manifest, were viewed with avowed satisfac-
tion, both by the Nuns and the Priests. After I had
been their prisoner about seven years, I perceived thai
the derangement of my bodily system rendered me
more susceptii-le of imaginative impressions, and less
capable of the services which 1 had been coerced to per-
form. The change however was very gradual; but
on the eighth anniversary of the Counsellor's visit, he
tenderly noticed my emaciated appearance ; and upon
hearing the report of the Physician, whom he directed
to examine my state, he became convinced, that I
should at no very distant period dwindle into "the
house appointed for all living." ..

-•lIK

\ »

133

Several months passed away witbout any perceptible
alteration, until one morning I was suddenly summon-
ed into tbe Superieure's apartment ; and tbere to my
joyful surprise, and it was a perfect cordial to my beart,
I beheld my friend Rohoirsic. After kindly expressing
his delight that [ appeared unchanged — " I have visit-
ed you, Louise— he remarked — to propose to you a
change of habitation for a short period. You will live
exactly the same ; but fresh air may benefit you. I
trust that you will have no objection." To his offer I
replied — "I am not my own director; you know
who manages my concerns, I never did. To me the
place of residence is immaterial, as long as I am under
your kind surveillance." — Rohoirsic gave me bis hand,
while he nodded a smiling assent. — " Air, medicine
and exercise — I added — all will be too late applied to
restore my dilapidated constitution : and even could
(hey be essentially beneticial, except as it is our duty
to use every means to prolong life for Ui^efulness in
the Lord's service ; to a child ')f sorrow and of soli-
tude, like me, without any opportunity to do good, or
the hope of ever attaining any capacity for it, mere
bodily rehef is unavailing." The lawyer rejoined —
" To benefit you exclusively, is not our design. You
may very essentially serve a fellow creature in great
and peculiar distress. Agonized in mind, and diseased
in her frame, she wishes for a kindly attendant, and it
is believed that you will exactly suit. You will be re-
quired to execute no menial or disagreeable offices. On-
ly two things are claimed of you, that you shall divulge
nothing that you see or hear, even to the Superieure ;

,:V

4r '

' ^;

•in

.' I

i iiim i w i . i iuiimi iiwMi

H >.

134

liei'e he tenderly pressed my hand, with a look of af*
fectionate regard — and that you shall n^ake no atteiupt
to escape from my superintendence." An unwonted
smile almost unconsciously overspread ray face at this
novel exaction, while I snid to him — " The last require-
ment, you may be fully assured, I shall never trans*
gress. That you have so long and faithfully interested
yourself for me is one of the 'strongest consolations in
reference to earth and time, and the loss of the same
care and kindness would be my death-stroke. With
regard to the question of my removal, I shall leave the
<lecision of it to yourself, as the only competent judge."
" Point du tout ; not at all — answered Rohoirsic — it
is altogether a matter of sensibility. You are re-
quested to performan act of charity towards an elderly
woman, who, it is presumed, cannot long survive the
combined ravages of a bodily consumption and mental
grief. By your sympathies, you may be able to sooth
her in her pains, and to allay the pungent bitterness
under which she appears to labor. No person, there-
fore, is so good a judge as yourself, whether your feel-
ings will admit you to undertake the office proposed."
I replied — " My feelings promptly decide me to un-
dertake all practicable duties, however self-denying, if
I can impart comfort to any person, letting aside
these personal considerations, what do you advise me ?"
The Superieure here impertinently obtruded her re-
. marks. "It is prefijrable for you to go, Louise; there
are peculiar leasons which cannot now be communica-
ted, to induce your compliance with this request."
Bohoirsic pressed my hand, and to my inquiring look

■•■»^.,.-*-^.-»-^*-"*t:+^'?;^w^"^ •>■*,.,

: f

>k of af-
) atteiupt
n won ted
e at thie
require-
jr trans-
nterested
ations in
he same
I. With
leave tlie
t judge."
)irsic — it
are re-
n elderly
rvive the
d mental
s to sooth
)itterne3S
n, there-
^our feel-
roposed."
e to un-
nying, if
ng aside
ise nie?"
I her re-
je; there
imunica-
request."
ring look

135

silently bowed his head. Upon which I immediately
answered — " De tout mon coeur, with all my heart, i
shall be ready : when ?" After a pause of considera-
tion, Rohoirsic addressed the Superieure — " I shall be
here in the morning at five. You will remember,
that Louise must take with her all her books and per-
sonal conveniences." With a haughty air, the Supe-
rieure answered — " Tertement, certainly. I shall take
care that Louise is deprived of nothing which she
desires to remove."

As soon as Rohoirsic had withdrawn, I was com
aianded with a forbidding chilliness to expedite my
arrangements, and in the most perfect secresy ; that no
person, except the Superieure, might know of my de-
parture. Precisely at the hour, just before the dawn of
day, my friend, your counsellor appeared. 1 present-
ed the Superieure my adieu ; and never since have I
beheld her or the detested convent. On the third evening
I was inclosed within the walls of the Nunnery at
Trois Rivieres. During the journey, Rohoirsic much
gratified me by the information which he imparted.
" You will be entirely unknown, Louise — he assured
me — ^you are represented to the Superieure at Three
Rivers, not as an excommunicated incorrigible apostate-
from their Church, to be scorned and loathed, but as a
hereditary heretic to be pitied. Indeed your case is
stated to be hopeless ; but it is extenuated on account of
very peculiar griefs, which have riveted your wrong
opinions, so that although you are very sensible upon
£dl other matters and inofiecsiTe as a child \ yet upon

.■ \

'.I

4-'

'-^ !!■ r n» rt , m ill

— f ►*.-*#iir^'J'*»t- ~| ." •►f^^^'.H rff, . •.!...■■■'■*•-». -f^-^n'' ■••4.,i,,',-r«r'->>>

->;• i-j;-:,- -:f-:, TR

;

136

the subject of religion, you ara flighty, very stubborn;
and consequently must be left alone. The Superieure
has been apprized, that you never mention your opinions,
unless other persons thoughtlessly introduce any objec-
tions to them ; and upon this point she is cautioned upon
no pretext, to have any intercourse with you. The
lady also who wishes for your company has been in-
structed to believe, that you are naturally very kind,
and that your acceptance of the proposal would prove,
that you would not be insensible to her necessities and
sorrows." 1 was received with much cordiality. My
protector before he left the convent, thus addressed
me — " You will inform the Superieure without hesita-
tion of your wants ; in the supply of which you will
be aiipiy indulged. Some trifles have been provided
for you, which are already in your proposed apartment.
I shall see you during the holidays — he kindly pressed
my hand — till then, adieu !" . - • %^

Since I was forced away from you, my brother, this
was the conunencenient of the only truly peaceful
part of the years which have elapsed. The journey
had refreshed my spirits, and the change was other-
wise beneficial. 1 encountered no vexatious interrup-
tions. I vva!4 not encircled by discordant inmates. I
received no insults. I was exempt from fatiguing
duties, which were too laborious for my strength, and
oppressive upon my spirits. And for a short season, I
was in personal comfort and tolerable health. Often
have I endeavored to transcribe my occasional memo-
randa ; but the int«rnal conflict produced almoei too

-t - /.

9 .- . . .

V^f

•■vi:;

ibborD;
(crieure
nnioDs,
^ objeo
idupon
. The
een in-
y kind,
1 prove,
ties and
y. My
Idressed
t hesita'
you will
provided
^rtment.
pressed

■•f %

her, this
peaceful
journey
,8 other-
nterrup-
ates. I
uiguiiig

th, and

leason, I

Often

memo-
niosi too

■%■ '■ '

137

much agitation for the task, so that you must be con-
tented with a very imperfect detail. There- are emo-
tions which no genius can describe, and sympathied
which no artist can depict. "Whether the Superieurft
was truly acquainted with any part of ray history, 1
could never ascertain. She was ever kind, but ex-
tremely guarded ; and always conducted herself as if
she was implicitly bound to comply with the direction^
of the Bishop and his Vicar-General, to whom sh6
professed canonical obedience. Three days elapsed
ere 1 was informed of the actual object of my transfet
to Three Rivers. The Superieure requested my com-
pany, to walk with her in the garden of the convent w
enjoy the serenity of a beautiful afternoon ; and wlieil
we were entirely secluded in an alcove from all observa*
tion ; she remarked — "I suppose, Louise, that you have
been informed for what purpose you have been transfer-
fed to ray care ?" My reply was — "1 understand that t *
have been requested to aid in alleviatinjf the sorrows o{
a female valetudinarian." She then inquired — " Are
you still willing to accept the office which your friend
assigned you ?" To this question, I answered — " t
am desirous to know the precise duties which will de-
volve upon me. Any thing which 1 can do I shall
willingly undertake, but I cannot assume laborioue
services for which I am incompetent." l^he Superieure
subjoined — " Your only employ will be to attend upoa
the lady ; and if you can effect that desirable object«
to diminish her mysterious and deep-rooted sadness.

In what method that can he most effectually securedi

■IS

«pp

138

f .

^I>'

'■k%t

U lefit to your judgment and experience. You will be
ftt liberty to sleep in her apartment or not, at your
pption. A servant is expressly designated to wait upon
you. The only injunction which I am commanded to
enforce upon you is this — that you are neither to con-
Terse with the lady when the servant is present, nor to
communicate either to her or even to me what your
companion may confide to you." I felt embarrassed
with this condition, and replied — " I am inexperienced,
and may want advice and assistance, to whom shall I
appeal ?" The Superieure remarked — " It is not possi-
ble that any circumstances can arise, which in this
respect will require the interposition of a third person.
In all cases which refer to her health, the attending
pjhysician will be consulted ; and concerning your per-
sonal comforts, you will always recur to me, and I
shall take care that not only every want shall be sup-
plied, but all your wishes shall be fully indulged." To
tiiis arrangement I consented ; upon which she instant^
1y arose, placed a letter in my hand, and as she was
letiring, she added — " I shall join you in an hour — but
remember inviolable secrecy must be maintained ]"
and she returned to the convent. ^ J^ ,

My attention was instantly directed to the seal and
superscription, and I fancied that they were the same
vriih which you and I had formerly been so molested.
The conviction of their identity, as more accurate
sbrutiny confirmed my opinion, almost overpowered me
with the portentous dread of some new indefinable
e&lamity. Tears partially relieved me, and with as

^r-^.

t youT
it upon
idedto
to Goa-
, nor to
it your
irrassed
rienced,
lehalll
)t possi-
in this
person.
Ltending
our per-
I, and 1
be sup-
.» To
instant-
ehe was
>ur — but
tained f

seal and

he same

nolested.

accurate

ered me
definable

with as

13^ •

much composure as I could assume, I commended my*
self to God, and earnestly implored his guidance and
support in this novel perplexity. My mind was en-
couraged, and the recoUectttn of his past goodness
fortified me. I realized that worse evils than thos^
which 1 already escaped, could nut befal me; and the
additional confidence which I reposed in your lawyer,
as the instrument in the hands of Divine Providence
to guard and superintend my welfare, strengthened
me. You will easily sympathize with me, my brotheri
when you peruse the accompanying letter.

:io

To Louise M. ' '^

" How shall I address you, Louise ? On a former
occasion when you received a letter from me, I was
your tormenting persecutor, and your base unnatural
betrayer ; now, I am your penitent, broken-hearted
mother!"

" Mother I" I involuntarily exclaimed with inex-
pressible tremor, for then in a moment, all the horrible
past, with its inconceivably aggravated criminality,
rushed into my mind — " Mother !" how I felt, what I
thought, or even where I was, I could scarcely compre-
hend. All were so commingled in a species of tempora-
ry hallucination, that I know not what I said in my
broken soliloquy of appalling surprise. It is well that
no person could have heard me. The first consistent
remembrance that I experienced, was the precious
appilication to my soul of the Lord's words recorded hj
the prophet Isaiah. « Can a woman forget her suddng

'^»

'«^ *

•• 140

child, that she should not have compassion on her son i
Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee." It
was a salutary cordial to my agitated heart ; and at
once infused the idea, th<^ I was thus remarkably ap-
pointed to attend and support the enfeebled and dispirit-
ed woman by whom we had been dshered into the
world. Dreadful, however, as were all the fornter
scenes, and affecting as our first interview must
necessarily boi yet I felt ati if divested of a burden,
and instantly adopted the .resolution to submit to any
thing for her sake, with the hope, by Divine grace^
of being instrumental to her soul's welfare, j^gain I
besought the Savior's blessing in the diwharge of theie
unexpected duties ; and then with tolerable calmriess,
pausing as my varied excitements impelled, I studied
the remainder of your mother's letter. m

She thus proceeded — "It is not necessary in this
manner to inform you of any particulars with which
you will afterwards become acquainted. Since our last
separation, my life has been a term of wretchedness
and alarm, justly merited, but almost too great to be
borne. To alleviate agonies which have corroded my
constitution, and which all other attempts to diminish
have only embittered, I some time since proposed, that
as lengthened life for me could not be anticipated, I
might have you for my companion. With great diffi-
culty the objections to this measure were vanquished.
Not that the persons who have us in their bondage
feel any concern for our comfort, but they are terrified
at all idea of any possible mode existing by which

141

tr.

son?
" It
nd at
lyap-
ispirit-
Lo the
forntei

must
turden,
« any

grace,

Igain I

)f the^e

iiniiess,

studied

in this
\vhich
J our last
thedness
Sat to be
ded my
liminish
^,that >
Lipated, I
Ireat diffi-
iquished.
bondage
A terrified
Ly which

yoiii- past history shall be published. Diganu's lisiog
character, and from his ascertained wealth, his superior
influence in society, combined with the resolute oppoei-
tion and unyielding measures of Rohoirsic, have in-
timidated our enemies ; for now, they are not less mine
(hanyour's! ^ .. v^

My wishes werec onveyed to the counsellor, with the
reasons by which the plea was sanctioned. The chief
argument urged against the design, except the fear of
pubhcity, was this — ^^that your avowed heretical opinions,
as they are denominated, precluded all intercourse with
you. Upon this point, I fully satisfied the Jesuits, that
although I was profoundly ignorant of all that you
believed and practised under the name of religion,
yet I was not less filled with an unconquerable detesta>
tionof themselves and their priestcraft, their doctrines,
superstitions, frauds, and pursuits ; that this aversion
had not been imbibed, as they well knew, from any
person or book ; but that it was the result of my own
refiections in the dreariness of my cell, amid the inter-
vals of sickness and pain. As I was no longer deemed
worthy of flattery and solicitation, all their terrifying
artifices were tried in vain. I repelled them with their
.own weapons. When they attempted to aftViglit me
with' their excommunication, I ridiculed a menace, all
the horror of which they themselves had extracted : as
they had often assured me, that it was only an instru>
ment to iianage the weak and silly populace, that
they may be cajoled into a perfect acquiescence with
their authority and injimctions. Sometimes thev de*

12*

■'' "J

. >}^'

oouQced all the fires and tortures of purgatory and hell
as my portion. My sole reply 'wos a scornful retort,
(hat they themselves had often said, that a future state
was all a fiction, only propagated to fill a Priest's coffers
with money and to terrify the ignorant multitude.
Then they would declare, that no Masses should be
3aid for ray soul. My answer was this — " You your-
selves admit that the Mass is a contrivance only of the
Pretres to procure ofierings from your stupid disciples ;
because you confess to each other your belief that it is
impossible for any reasonable creature to credit the doc-
trine of transubtitantiation ; and that it was invented
only to support the Priest's power over the foolish peo-
ple, who are taught that you can make and eat your
God whenever you please ; and then you absolve each
Other for your shameless hypocrisy." Upon various
occasions, they threatened me with everlasting burn-
ings both body and soul at the future retributbn.
This I repelled, by assuring them that they had often
taught us, and we ail supposed their account to be true,
that the doctrine of the soul's immortality, the resur-
rection of the dead, and a judgment to come, and in
short, that all their pretended religion of Jesus Christ
was only a profitable fable for the Pope and the Priests.
But although I resolutely opposed all their attempts
longer to govern me, yet I was actuated only by the
spontaneous dictates of my own mind ; for I cannot
perceive, that a religion which transforms all Society in-
to a pleasure-house for the indulgence of a few Pretres,
can be of any value ; and my own experience led me
to conclude, as they proclaim, that all their preteQ4;^

/ ,

;?- .' ' ;1

■n

148

ed religion is a fabulous imposture. My natural cou-
fcience, however, was still partially in exercise. I was
tossed to and fro, as in a tempest. I could not undoubt-
ingly admit, that there is no God, no eternity, and no
difference between virtue and vice. I cannot now be-
lieve, that the wicked ore equally good and estimable
as the virtuous ; and that when we die, all mankind
are extinguished. In proportion as 1 was forced to
deny the delusive doctrines of the Pretres and the Chap-
Iain, my .agony became intense. 1 reflected upon what
I had been and what I had done. My mind was
totally empty of all satisfaction, and I rejected all my
former deceptions, will) o truth to enlighten or direct
me. All my ideas w ere fraught with fearful remorse
and withering anguish ; until a ray of light and hope
glimmered over me, when the sudden impression first
entered my mind to claim your attendance. I insisted,
and they refused. I persevered, and they were obsti-
nate. The Counsellor arrested their attention more
point ''dly to the object by co-operating with me. Finally
it was 'arranged, that I should be removed to Three
Rivers ; and that you should meet me here. My
chief motive, I confess, was selfish. I was anxious for
an associate, in whom I could confide ; and from whom,
if possible, I might learn the way to true repentance,
that I may die in feeble hope, if not in perfect peace.
The Superieure knows nothing of our affairs, except
that we are mother and daughter, and reputed heretics
who must be indulged in our accursed errors, as the
Priests name them. We are also characterized as two
miserable half crazy idiots, who for a long time have

;•^•

"itk.-

144

becai separated; but whose friends are so influential,
diat we must enjoy tender care and affectionate treat-
ment. It was necessary that you should thus be ap-
prised of our new relationship before yuu see me; and
also of my desires, that you may not" recoil with aver-
sion, had you recognised your former most unnatural,
treacherous and vile tempter. I can make you no
atonement for the past, nor promises for the future ;
except that you will not find your detestable fellow-
Crnveller to Jacques (.'artier, in

Your repentant and sorrowful mother,

Therese-

'•Mie Superieure returned to me before I had fully
recovered my equanimity — " Have you any message
or communication — she asked — for Therese?" In
reply I stated — "Be so good as to inform her, that I
shall prepare an answer to her letter, which shall be
presented to you in the morning." After much deli-
bcratioo, I sealed the sheet which you will peruse, my
brother, with melancholy emotions. You will perceive
that it is stained with my tears and marked with my
blots. My agitated spirits did not permit me to dwell
upon the shocking retrospect. Besides, our approach-
ing interview and subsequent residence in the same
apartments rendered all discussion superfluous, except
those declarations which were adapted to prepare the
mind of Therese for an amicable reception, and foi
fiiture unreservedly candid intercourse. ^*»

X45

To TherESE. ^ :.;?...; V ;/:^ ;' -''i' V

" Tour unexpected letter fills me with the utmost
surprise, and excites the most contradictory emotions.
To find a mother after having never known what that
endearing word means ! but to discover my mother
in you ! Had not so many other painful circumstances
authorized your claim, the fact would be incredible. I
cannot reproach you. I pity your angui«h,and most wil-
lingly consent to try my feeble energies to relieve it.
But I must int^ist, that unless you choose to detail your
past history, so far, that 1 may be able to understand
in what way most effectually to assuage your sorrows,
1 may not hear any illustrations of former events, ex-
cept forihe sake of Digaiiu. A penitent, heart-broken
mother ! Ah, what do these epithets convey ? Yet I
rejoice, if you are sorrowful, that you are repentant ;
and I bless God, that " the sacrifice of a broken spirit
and a contrite heart, he will not despise." The chief
point in your letter is the information, that you have
rejected the Priest's odious doctrines and criminal temp-
tations ; then I may hope, with the Divine blessing, to
foe of some benefit to you : and gladly shall I consecrate
my hours to promote your spiritual inptruction ano per-
sonal comfort. To be a blessing to you in your decline
will be ample compensation for my past trials, afflic-
tions, and disappointments. You representy ourself as a
very different person in appearance from what you were
when we last parted : and what is your Louise ? I am
told by Rohoirsic, that 1 am so altered, Diganu himself
would scarcely recognise me. I shall submit myself
entirely to your control, so far as is proper, and will

;t-S*«.i .»*■*(» V

- •", r!l

^\-^

146

endeavor, by tinceasing asniduity, to prove my entire
willingness to serve you, while I am learning the les*
sons which appertain to a devoted, faithful, and affec-
tionate daughter.

Louise. !;

The reply to my note was a verbal message by the
Superieure — " Therese proposes to receive you this
afternoon." ,

I knew not how to occupy the anxious and perplex-
ing interval. If I attempted to read my otherwise most
attractive author, he interested me not. My Bible,
" more to be desired than much fine gold>" could not
fix my vagrant mind. Even prayer itself did not al-
lay my feverish emotions. The hours elapsed in a
round of capricious fancies which were destitute of eve-
ry semblance of reality. When I was momentarily se-
rious, or when actually offering the fervid petition to
" the throne of grace," I was becalmed : but my roving
imagination instantly passed again those rational
boundaries, and left me bewildered in retrospective com-
bii^ations, which you alone, Diganu, can accurately
conceive. As the hour of our interview approached, I
became more agitated and undeterminate how to speak
or act. I could only trust in God for his indispensable
aid and direction. At last, in excessive agitation, 1
was conducted to a door of a voom by the Superieure —
" this — said she — is Therese's apartment." With a
languid palpitation of heart, I advanced'; the door was
dosed, rnd for the first time, I was in the presence ol
my avowed mother.

»~^"r»"'-.. *».»

■'n-'-^A'^f"

V".i »3^T "

■.'■'j.'^i ^P

NUNNERY AT THREE RIVERS.

■".*

. \

Uon, 1

;ure —

ruh a

)r was

jnce ol

How blest the Pilgrim who in trouble
Can lean upon a bosom friend —
Strength, courage, hope, with him redouble,
When foes assail, or griefs impend.

The Narrative of Louise next detailed the account
of her residence at Three Rivers.

" Our ignorance of each other was mutual. So great
was the dissimilitude between the woman who grasped
me at Lorette and Therese in the Convent at Three
Rivers, that I dared not speak. I could not admit the
identity. We continued to gaze at each other iiA joint
surprise. After a long and agitating pause, a voice
scarcely human uttered — " Come near me ; let me see
if you are Louise indeed ; let me look at my cross on
your forehead." The sound, although sepulchral, was
the same. No lapse of years could obliterate the for-
mer words which she addressed to the Cure — * come
here ; look at this cross on her forehead' ! For a mo-
ment, I almost fancied myself again in the Church at'
Lorette, writhing in all the agonies of that tremendous
scene. " Fear not — she presently added — if you arc
my Louise, I shall instantly know you, ahbough we

rm,.

^.i _ J ■;&!*:.;.

-m.

'" jr,'*''\.A

V'" •

148

cannot recognise each other's person ; and I will soon
prove tu you that I was your guilty enemy at Lorette."
Trembling, I obeyed the invitation, and knelt before her,^
who was seated in an easy chair. She threw back my
hair, it was the same mysterious touch, kissed the
cross, told me to rise, directed lue to a drawer, and
before my eyes was the very same dress which I wore
at Lorette, and of which she had divested me im^
mediately after our arrival at the General Hospital.
All incredulity at once was extinguished. For some
time, we both maintained a natural reserve, but it gra-
dually disappeared. She realized in me a friend whom
she had never before knovvti, and I found in Therese^
a tenderness which I suppose mothers only can feel
and display. The first preliminary to be adjusted
was the manner of addressing her. I could not adapt
myself to use the term mother ; and she insisted, that I
should call her Therese, being the only appellative to
which she had been accustomed. "Besides — she re*
marked, weeping with great perturbation — I am not
worthy of the respectful and endeared title of mother.
It pre-supposes a relation which 1 never sustamed to
you, affections 1 have never yet experienced, and duties
that I have not performed." ' ^cfJ^/:

wn^- -■■. '
Amid all her dispiritude, Therese retained the Con-
vent's acquired sagacity, although she had been enabled
to discard its guile ; and consequently perceiving my
genuine character, she exactly adpated her measures
according to her views. She speedily ascertained that
tn unfold her own personal history in continuous de-

'■■['i'

1 8000

>rette."

trthetf

ickmy

ed the

5r, and

Iwore

ne ini-

[ospital.

or some

t it gra-

a whom

rherese,

can feel

adjusted

ot adapt

d, that I

ilative to
she re-
am not
mother,
amed to
id duties

.• ""l ' i

[he Con ■
enabled

|ving my
leasures
Ined that
[uons de^i

149

tail, would be objectionable to my principles and feet-
ings, and therefore she determined to introduce the
prominent facts of her life, as incidental illustrations of
conversation, as they might successively arise. Our
habits of living partook of all the uniform routine of th6
Nunnery, as our only relaxation was a walk in the
garden, during which we were invariably attended by
our servant. .. f

Therese almost constantly developed the same heart-
rending uneasiness, an uninterrupted bitter compunc-
tion for her past actions, an insatiable avidity to obtain
saving knowledge, and increasing attachment to your
Louise. Her bodily strength decreased almost imper-
ceptibly, and was only manifested in the feebleness
of her steps, and the gradual restriction of the length
of our promenade. Until we became more unreserved,
to read to her the Scriptures and my other books was
my chief employ. Sometimes she would propound a
question for information, when she apprehended a lia*
bility to mistake ; but generally she was absorbed in
her own meditations. The first exhibition of a wish
for more familiar intercourse was a request, that I
would communicate to her the particulars of my escape
from the Pretre's house ; and my subsequent history
while a resident with you. " I have no wish, Louise
— she added — to distress you by the recital. My only
reasons for desiring you minutely to retrace your suf-
ferings are these — that thereby I may more accurately
understand your mental exercises, and also promote

Diganu'a welfare. I can gladden you by the assu^

150

ranee of the latter ; and trust, that I shall learn some-
thing of the operations of conscience, from your detail
of the manner in which truth irradiated your mind."
I also observed, as the Scriptures became more impress-
ed upon her thoughts, that her expressions of penitence
were more consistent, and that she grew in correct
knowledge of the genuine character and design of
Christianity. Yet a soul-wringing tone of def^;;{r, and
an ear-tingling expression of anguish were often mingled
with all her penitential acknowldgements. While I
applied the tender invitations of redeeming mercy to
her condition, she repelled them. She thought that
there was nothing in the sacred records which resem-
bled her case ; and the volume of Divine love seemed,
in her apprehension, to be only the authentic declara-
tion of her doom to everlasting wo. In its doctrines,
consolations, and examples, as revealed by the oracles of
God, religion appeared too elevated. It did not in her
estimate adapt itself to the peculiar self-abhorence
which she realized ; and it propounded no pattern of
a person whose trangressions had been clothed with
enormity similar to that which characterized her wick-
edness. Her sorrow for sin, therefore, produced no
correct confidential petition for mercy. She dreaded
the indignation of the Judge, and longed thai his
wrathful sentence should be averted ; but she could
not admit the extension even of the God-like Saviour's
mercy to o. li a heinous criminal. Upon considering
this stater ler mind, I thought that by distinctly un-
folding ly own spiritual maladies and the methods of
cure, r ith apposite remarks, I might assist her judg-

151

leiail

press- ,

itencc

orrect

gn of

r, and

ingled

^hile I

ercy to

It that

resem-

leemed,

Jeclaia-

jctvines,

racles of
in her
lovence

ilievn of

led with
wick-
uced no
dreaded
that his
he could
Saviour's
nsidering
nctly un-
lethods of
her judg-

ment, and obtain additional influence over her. But
it was very difli^iilt to decide upon the most eflicient
means at.^ hi. tost suitable periods. From internal
disquietude and i.ervousirritabi" ^ , combined with her
varying corporeal alternations or strength and feeble*
uess, and also from the remains of that artificial cha-
racter wliich had previously belonged to her, Therese
was occasionally captious ; and although her attach-
ment for me appeared stable and sincere, yet in the
exhibition of it, she was t^onietimes exceedingly capri-
cious. My inexperience was often non-plussed in over-
coming her waywardness ; and it wns probably almost
impracticable for her to subdue all those suspicions of
my fidelity, which our extraordinary situation could
not fail to excite. H^'o remove these inauspicious feel-
ing? instituted another argiinient for n^y manifesting
all possible sympathy with her, by compliance with
her desires.

She was also very solicitous to ascertain how I began,
to doubt the infalhbility of the Priests and t heir doctrines.
This induced me to narrate my interview with the
dying Marguerite. " Ah ! — remarked Therese, when
I had finished — her account was true. Frequently
did she admonish me against my foolish opinions ;
but she did it so cautiously, that I could never find
any thing to report to tbe Priests to her prejudice. She
was blessed in her humble station, for as she had no
money to bestow for masses, absolutions, and all their
other Jesuitical impostures, they cared not for her at-
tendance upon them, and thus she was despised as

i*»

aJM^.

■^

..f

162

beneath tbeir 8cnitin> " I replied — << I did not under-
stand tirom Margueritei (hat she ever had cautioned
and warned you as she did me." Therese answered
— " Not at all. Had she told me thirty years before,
the same things which she addressed to you, her life
would have been the immediate frrfeit." I instantly
demanded — " How then, Therese, could she have ad-
monished you against your false beuliments ?" Therese
rejoined — " She discovered my danger, without doubt,
firomthe prior knowledge which sh'' ' "^d acquired, and
from the silly declarations that I maue. 1 used to teil
her that we must not ofifend the Holy Pretres. She
would look grave, and ask me, * whether is it better to
please God or the Priest V \ would try to convince her
that this was the same thing. 4 piiy you, ma chere,
my dear ! — would she say — but suppose God com-
mands any thing and the Priest forbidfe* it ; <>r suppose
the Priest enjoins you toperfoim any action which
God prohibits, in tlioi^e cases you cannot plea^iC both
those conflictmg authorities.' But I wtnkl is>ay, 'your
supposition is impossible, becaui^e the P iest being in-
fallible, can only tell us what God orders, and we can
know what God directs only by the Piietst's explana-
tion and instructions.' At these absurd speeches she
would be silent, or sometimes speak to herself, and
often I thought, maugre all her endeavors to conceal it,
that I saw on her countenance a smile of unbelieving
contempt. I was then too ignorant and enslaved to
comprehend her meaning ; now I should know its pur-
port." I answered — " When we correctly examine
ourselves and our individual responsibility, it is most
mortifying to human pride, and indeed almost incredi-

^' *»^

ndci-
ioned
Bvered
)efore,
ler life
jtantly
ive ad-
'herese
, doubt,

ed, and
A to tell
8. She
better to
iuce her
la cht^vc,

,od corn-
suppose
,n which
jvsiC both

l)eing in-
,d we can
explana-
jches she
jreelf, and
Iconceal it,
(believing
islaved to

,w its pur-
examine

it is most
)st incredi-

m '

153

ble, that any persons can risk their eternal salvation
upon such gross delusions." Therese inquired — "Did
you never believe, Louise, that it is mortal sin to offend
the Pretres ?" To this question I replied — "Not exact-
ly in all its extent. Before 1 had been fully trained,
Marguerite had j]fiven ine some gospel eye-salve which
enabled me to inspect for myself. Hesitation followed ;
find the person who once begins to doubt the Priest^
infallible supremacy, speedily rejects all their abomina-
tions. But was tliere no other point on which she
spoke to you.^" Therese said — " Yes, I remember once
in particular ; after I was boasting of having been ab-
solved by the Chaplain of all my sins, both venial and
mortal, that Marguerite askfed me — 'what is the differ-
ence between those kinds of sins V — 1 could not define
my own notions, which I had imbiBed from the Priests ;
but my reply was to this effect — mortal sins are those
which are done against the laws, power, and interest
of our Holy Church ; and all other offences are only
venial sins which will be purified by the fire of purga-
tory." I inquired — " When you attempted to enforce
upon me the belief of this blasphemous and polluting
doctrine, did you really give credit to it ?" With 'a
groan, and sobbing which bespoke her internal agony,
Therese rejoined — ''Certainly, Louise. I was then so
blinded by ther deceitfulness, so infatuated by their ar» v
tifices, so corrupted by habitual ungodliness, and so * '
hardened by their infidelity, ceremonies, sins, confes-
sions and priestly absolutions ; that I could have perpe-
trated any crime and deemed it a virtue, if the Pretres
had commanded me." I almost involuntarily exclaimr

18,*

fl: >..

ir'

^ J

•^

154

ed — " Blessed be God, who redeemed my life from des-
Iruction for my marvellous deliverance] — but when
you uttered this irrational distinction in your estin>ate
of wickedness, did Marguerite make no remark?''
Therese continued — " She cast upon me a scrutiniz'
ing look, doubtless to ascertain whether 1 was actually
lost to all sense of female decorum, and reading in my
features that some remains of innocence existed, she
begged me not to think so lightly of sin before God,
as to suppose, that the transgression of his commands
could pass unpunished. 1 observed in reply — 'the
evil is done away by our own penance, the Pope's in-
dulgences and the Priest's pardon.' She next demand-
ed — 'but what are the sins which can thus be re.iiit-
ted ?' I answered — ' O ! 1 know not particularly ; all
that matter you know, the Priest explains when I
goto confession!' • Marguerite then said — * Very well;
but suppose the Pretre should tell you that it is no sin
to blaspheme God, to utter falsehoods, or to live un-
chastely, will you believe him V I replied — ' You
know that if the Priest orders me to perform any action,
then it loses all its sinful qualities.' She realized in-
stantly, that I was well fitted for their most unholy
designs." I answered — " After all that I have myself
felt and heard upon this wretched subject, I can
scarcely conceive, Therese, that this rule of action is
seriously believed by any persons in their senses. The
inclination to vice must have become ungovernable,
before an opinion so clearly destructive of all morality
can possibly be received by any ratiotlal beings ; and
0en it must be avowed solely to palliate and justify

! m

Lie*

n des-

wheQ
itin>ate
lark r
•utiniz-
ctually

in my
led, she
re God,
nmands
y — ' the
ope's in-
lemand-
)e re.iiit-
irly ; all
when I
ery well ;
is no sin
> live un-
,d_' You
ay action)
ialized in-
3t unholy
ive myself
ict, I can
f action is
ises. The
;overnable,
U morality
ings ; and
and justify

155

their sinful course." Thereso responded — " Yet you
must have undoubtedly been taught that fundamental
doctrine of their Church ; and had not Marguerite
pointed out its gross uffensiveness by the personal ap-
phcation to yourself, and had you been earlier exposed
to all the contagion of seductive examples in the Con-
vent, and to all the insnaring blandishments of the
Chaplain and other Priests, without intermission, res-
traint, aiui ciiuiiteraction ; do you thiuk, Louise, that
you would hiive defied succepsfully every temptation
and vanquished all their terrors?" My answer was —
"I shudder at your disgusting picture, Therese, and
adore the Sovereign and merciful Disposer of events,
that I escaped the horrible abyss. But did Marguerite's
indirect instructions shed no light upon your mind /"
My trembling and weeping associate replied — " No, for
I urged upon her, our duty to believe every thing the
Priests tell us, and to do all that they say without the
least hesitation. This I contended was the only source
of our peace and safety." Here I interposed — "If
Marguerite at tbat period believed as she did on her
dying bed, I should think that so monstrous a princi-
ple must have been rejected by her."

" Listen, Louise — she added, with great agitation —
Marguerite appeared to be deeply affected by my folly,
* I am a Christian woman — she remarked — and have
never had the soundness of my faith disputed ; but I
cannot believe every thing I have been told When a
little child, did you not read the Book of Fables ? But
you never supposed, that the Wolf and the Lamb ac*

*;■

ihi

■'■• -

if,

— ■•••/

166

tually argued about the water flowing down the hill —
she glanced at me with her well-remembered expressive
and piercing eye — although I have often seen human
wolves in sheep's clothing devour the innocent lambs.'
Ah ! Louise ; now 1 biiterly know what she intended ;
and often since have 1 been harrowed and astonished
that 1 did not comprehend her exactly appropriate allu-
sion. DoulHiess perceiving that in this covert manner
I was impenetrnble, she made another attempt ; and
gradually proceeded, until her attacks would have res-
cued me, had I not been so irrecoverably duped and
blindfolded. " If a Priest should state to you — she in-
quired — that being duly commissioned and qualified by
the Pope, he can abro<j^ate the ten r.ommandments, will
3'^ou believe him T To this startling question I an-
swered — 'I shimld suipose, that if 1 differ from him
in opinion, my sentiments are incorrect !' She instantly
I'emarked — • Then you would admit his interpretation
of the Divine law to be true ; though he flatly contra-
dicted its only meaning and its plain express words I'
This exposition rather staggered me. so that with some
hesitation I replied — ' Undoubtedly, Marguerite ; be-
cause you know it is not for us to set up our judgment
against our holy mother the (Church, of which the
Pretres are the ordained, infallible speaking tribunal."
Once more I interrupted Therese,and said — "That prin-
ciple I know to be correct. I even fully assented to it as
a general theory, after I had discarded it in \\a, personal
application to myself This fact, therefore^ is most con-
vincing proof, not only of the great fallacy of that
wicked claim, but also that the most obligatory rules of

).;

157

moral rectitude are effaced by the Jesuit Priests. Oiu
Lord Jesus gave us for his golden rule, 'all things
whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do
ye even so unto them' : but i could permit the wolves
to continue in their merciless ruin of the lambs, pro*
vided they Hid not rend me ; and hud not the revoking
picture which Marguerite drew aid d the undying im-
pression, while I should have condemned the crime if
pepetraled asfsiinst myself, in reftjreufc to aliers, I
should have justified the criminal." My -mpani^ i
added — ^> Mad I then possessed the smallest, particle < f
becoming tVuninine sensibihty or of sound rationiil in-
tellect, 1 must have glimpsed enough m oiy own
foolishness, at least, to have guarded me against the
direct ushhuUs of unveiled iniquity ; hut I was so chained
in their Jesuitirul trammels, that nothing ar<>Ui^eH me,
until 1 was inmmred in seclusion and racke<l with paui \
Of this truth you will he fully convinced, Luiii(-e, when
I have connnunicated to you the remainder of Mar-
guerite's circuitous instructions." &he paused, and I
further remarked — "These opinions were not all ad-
dressed to you upon one occasion, Therese, 1 think you
said: how then was it possiM' ''or you to evade the
influence of her counsel, when Marguerite's advice and
cautions were presented to you at different tunes, and
at distant intervals'/" Th'5!re8e answered — " Well may
you ask that question; — but indeed I scarcely ever
thought of Marguerite or of our conversations, except
when I was present with her. I was too frivolous and
gay ; and was always impressed with the conviction,
for so the Jesuits taught us, that all appearances of

\'.l

]> 1

i)i

».*<f ■ ♦ — 1. .

,^.,M« «, ^,*-»Mr, ..%,... ,,

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158

greater gravity and less attachment fur self-indulgence
and youthful pleasures in the elder Nune, were not the
result of disincUnation, but of satiety, or hypocrisy,
or of incapacity from feebleness or age to enjoy their
former habitual dissipation." To this acknowledgment
I subjoined — " ("ela est vrai, that is true. I was often
obliged to listen to that eoul-destroying tale, until all
that I knew of the world appeared as one vast mass of
thoughtlessness and vanity. In the circle where the
Pretres move, I believe, shocking as is the fact, that
your statement is lamentably verified."

' i

"Let me proceed, Louise — desired my companion —
during one interview, and when probably from what
she either saw or heard. Marguerite ssuspected, that I
was on the verge of being sacrificed, she agiiin intro-
duced that importnni subject. Apparently as a matter
only of curiosity, she inquired — 'are you of your former
opinion respecting the believing and doing of every
thing exactly as the Priests desire or command V I
promptly said — ' Yes !' The old wom in retorted — 'Eh
bien, well ; suppose a heretic should declare to you that
the Church is a theatre, and the Priest and his assist-
ants are only actors, and that every Sunday you and
all the people go there to see a farce performed, will
you believe him ?' I rejoined — 'Marguerite, how can
you ask such a silly question? do you thinks that 1
could be imposed upon by so stupid and contradictory
an assertion V she immediately answered—' Pont du
tout, not at all ; but su|)pose the Pretre should tell you,
lliat the Church is a chestnut, and that all the people

^' \

^ ^f't.^ f«t«^">..

.>,<». ».•^,^.,^^>•»-'

ulgence
I not the
pocrisy^
oy theic
sdgment
as often
until all
L mass of
here the
id, that

tan ion —
m what
id, that I
tin intro-
a matter
111' former
of every
ind V I
ed— 'Eh
you that
tis assist-
you and
ned, will
low can
that 1
radictory
Pont du
tell you,
e people

159

who go into it are the kernel ; and that one hundred
millions of people had cracked the same nut and eaten
the same kernel, many times annually during eighteen
hundred years past ; that he who built the church
was eaten up in the nut before he laid the foundation
stone ; and that although, according to the Prctre's ac-
count, the kernel of the nut, that is, the church, the build-
er and the people have been eaten up eigliteen hundred
thousand millions of times, yet the architect, the church,
.and the people remain the Hame, and that every Roman
Priest has the power to cliange the church and people
of his parish into a nut and eat them, and yet multiply
them every day, so that all the people can swallow
themselves and their neighbors at any time in every
parish throughout the world, wlienever any Priest
pleases ; and thus that every single man or woman, or
boy or girl who can crack the nut, can not only devour
himself, but also all the Churches and congregations
upon the earth, at the same time, and as often as the
person chooses to pay the Prelre for producing this
wonderful change, and making such a nut, will you
believe him, Therese V inquired the arch Marguerite.
As I had not the smallest idea in what way the parable
could be applied, my answer was very brief — 'No Prelre
will affirm such nonsense." Little did J then imagine
that the corner stone of their priestcraft is unspeakably
more false and incredible. However, I am now con-
vinced of the truth of Marguerite's deduction, that if
we are bouiid to believe a Jesuit implicitly in one
thing, merely on account of his priestly office, then vve
are obliged to submit and to trust to him in all. Thus

\ >)

111

'1?

^.'»-^^.r■*^f?,r-

•*?■

* ■

.•^•■

J %

160

it is of no consequence, whether we bow down to the
moral obliquities which he teaches and enforces, or to
the fraud of purgatory, the blasphemy of transubstantia-
tion, and the idolatry of the Mass. In answer to my
■hort sentence, Marguerite said — ' but if you must be-
lieve and perform all the Prie jt's words, where will you
ftop ? if his control over your faith, and practice, and
conscience be unbounded, how can you justly dispute
his infallible authority, whether he teaches truth or er-
ror, sense or nonsense, virtue or vice, piety or ir religion?'"

" One might suppose — I remarked — that no person
of common rationality would subscribe to these insult-
ing opinions, did not our own observation, and alas !
our own experience testify, that under the influence of
vicious propensities, the heart and mind of man may be
induced to receive any doctrine, however base and pre-
posterous, if itsanctions the desired indulgence of the in-
ordinate passions." Therese added — " I am convinced
that this is the only true solution of the difficulty. Igno-
rance of all sublime truth naturally engenders the predo-
minanceof the most grovelling errors, which become pal-
atable by their congeniality with the objects of sense; and
when aided by the endless variety of stratagems, with
which, as you were reading lo me the other day from
Christ's words, a Jesuit, if it were possible, would de-
ceive the very elect ; these sensual inclinations dispose
the mind to remove all the grand moral distinctions,
and especially when gilded over by the plausible dis-
tinction, which exists, as the Roman Priests pretend,
between mortal and venial sins. Thus it was with

... I

!^)

n to the
:e8, or to
bgtantia-

irto my
nust be-
will you
;iice, and
yr dispute
uth or er-
leligionl'"

tto person
ese insult-
and alas!
ifluence of
an may be
je and pre-
3 of the in-
convinced
Ity. Igno-
the predo-
jecome pal-
sense; and
gems, with
!V day from
!, would de-
ions dispose
iistinctions,
ausible dis-
sts pretend,
it was with

161

me. Margfuerite perceived that I was dumb, when she
asked me — 'how can you dispute the Priest's infalKble
authority ?' She thus proposed to awaken my seared
conscience by that exciting question. Instead of which
eifect, it operated upon me as an opiate ; for as I could
not instantly say, in what points I would venture to
resist the claims of the Jesuit Priests, I concluded
that uo exception could justly be made. Marguerite
observed my unwary mental acquiescence with the
principle which she opposed, and resolved to impel the
arrow of conviction as far as she dared without risking
her own safety. 'Will you break any one of the com*
mandments in the decalogue — she again inquired—
because a Priest tells you that your disobedience is a'
venial sin ? or will you bear false witness, steal other
people's property, or commit murder, if you can do it,
secretly, because your Pretre entices you to do it'
and promises you his absolution V Proposed in this
forni, the opinion which I had avowed did not appear
defensible ; and yet I perceived no alternative, mortal^
sin must be committed, or the Priest must be confided'
in and obeyed. However 1 answered her — 'obedience
to our confessor is^the first law of the Church ; and if
I err by obeying the Priest, he will have to bear the
punishment !' Marguerite replied — 'Ah ! ma chere, my'
dear ; if one child at school induces another to act
wrong, the teacher corrects both ; and although the
tempter is generally more corrupt and criminal than'
the tempted, yet the latter is amenable for hfs owQ"
transgression, and bears his own stripes.' This doc*
trine was too evidently true to be evaded by any aoi
phistrv. I could therefore only repel its force by aEf^eit-

IS.

a^ w^'i t u -A ■ )fl^|i^pf

1 1

'■

i r

1 «

t, ■

1 ■

L -1

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16^

ing — HToar principle does no^ apply ; for it cannot be
supposed that the holy priests will be permitted either
themselves to fall into error, or to teach it to others.'
The melancholy view which Marguerite took of my
approaching degradation emboldened her finally to ask-
me — * should a Priest be inclined to violate his vows
and solicit you to indulge him, by persuading you
that the trangression of the two commandments re-
specting chastity is a venial sin, which he can pardon ;
vhat will you do, Therese : will you consent to his
ivicked lawless desires?' I felt embarrassed ; but was
not convinced and remained silent. 'Do you not know
added Marguerite— that these things are continually
done V — I answered her not a word. From your state-
ment she accurately divined the cause of my silence ;
fer although not then actually a guilty participant of
their criminal intercourse ; yet I was completely entan-
gled and bewitched with their licentious revelry. My
principles and feelings were thoroughly )x>isoned ; and
Irom all that I had seen or heard or been taught, it ap*
peared undeniable, that the natural consequence of a
girl's possessing any alluring qualities, and of attaining
a certain age, was that she must submit to the Priest's
wanton caresses, and become the solace of his unna-
tural and ruinous celibacy." f*i

,'1!

iD'i^

. .. *' I have additional reasons to adore the Divine ma-
jesty — I remarked — for his abundant goodness in pre-
serving me from the pit in which so many others have
been intrapped." Therese rejoined — " It was always
a mystery inexplicable to us, by what means you bad

'W'.^-¥^

inot be
d either
others.*
c of my
ly to ask
lis vows
ing you
lents re-
pardon ;
It to his
but was
not know
ntinually
our state-
^ silence ;
icipant of
jly entan-
slry. My
led ; and
ght, it ap-
ence of a
attaining
he Prieit's
his uuna-

'.? r

•<■.'■•

divine ma-
ess in pre-
rthers have
vas always

US you bad

163

become so thoroughly armed against the Pretre's wiles ;
for one of the most pernicious evils connected with
monastic life is this — that those who already have been
insnared, are made the shameless tools to grapple fresh
victims. The immediate separation of the mother
from her infant, except in very peculiar cases, destroys
all tender sensibilities, and the callous effrontery of
the Nuns, as you have awfully witnessed — here she
beat her bosom and wrung her hands, as if in a mo-
mentary frenzy — render xthem peculiarly qualified in-
struments to carry on the crafty designs of the l^riests,
in the dreadful work of female seduction and ruin."

" These conversations directed me in my efforts to
enlighten and impress my companion's cons^cience. I
clearly perceived that she was still very defective in re-
ference to the spirituality of God's law and the malig*'
nity of sin. These I determined therefore should con>
stitute my primary points. But Therese, although a *
dull, was not an unwilling pupil. All her moral ap-
prehensions had so long been confounded and stupifie^
that it was difficult to engage her mind to receive any*'*
thing unless t hrough the medium of sense. From her
I imbibed a practical knowledge of the vast labor which
is requisite to turn an old sinner from the error of her
ways. She was not an example of profound iernorance:
but her mind had always been habituated to erroneous
conceptions of every thing connected with the human
character in our relation with God. Her whole life t
from premature womanhood had been a ceaseless rou-
tine of a loathed, because tiresome and unmeaning

1-.

\ \

tm^^mffrf-x'* '

'm^^m'

/ ■;

164

( ' ^

\ I

oeremonial of pretended worship; flagrant violations of
tfie divine law, and the use of the most pernicious
jknethods to harden conscience and deaden all moral sen*
sibiiity. My own experience, although not impregnated
with so many morbid mixtures, led me to introduce to
her attention tHose parts of the Scriptures, which avowed
the authority and sanctity of the divine government,
and especially those passages which unfolded in the most
pointed and impressive manner, the omniscience and
omniprescence of God. I had found the truth of the
adage, " the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wis-
dom ;" and 1 had also experienced that the quickeninge
of that fear are peculiarly vivified by the remembrance
of him to whom ''all things are naked and open." To
these spiritual subjects, Therese was lamentably insen-
sible. She had never known any object of worship,
except through the carnal visible unages and idols of
her mummery ; and although from having long de*
rived no satisfaction by worshipping them ; and from
the Holy Spirit operating to unfold to her the folly of
trusting in nothings, which can neither see, hear, feel
nor assist, she had discarded the external objects of her
superstitious rites ; yet her mind had not found the
Great Supreme, as the sole basis of confidence ; — as the
Apostle Paul expressed her state, " she had turned from
her idols, but not to serve the true and living God."

While residing with you, my brother, I ascertained,
that the only effectual method to dissipate the mists of
error in which I had been educated, was the endeavor
to obtain the raya of the sun of righteousness, by «.

\c:

<:mf¥%

y ■'

',??/•••

,*■",

itionsof
rnicious

)ral sen*
egnated
jduce to
avowed
srnment,
the most
nee and
th of the

r of Wis-

ckeninge
imbrance
)eu." To
►ly insen-
worship)
d idols of
long de*
and from
le folly of
hear, feel-
BCts of her
found the
; — as the
irned from
: God."

certained,
le mists of
\ endeavor
less, by -a

165

bedfast perusal of the sacred volume. So sudden
and bright was the refulgence of the gospel, I could
scarcely believe that the. book which I had procured
was genuine. I had to undergo a similar but more te-
dious penod of partially doubting amazement with yout
mother. Therese could not conceive, if the Bible is
hue, how the Priests dared to restrain the common
people from perusiiig its holy instructions. This scruple
I vanquished by proving to her, that there is not one
doctrine peculiar to Popery which can be found, or
which is not directly prohibited in the scriptures ; and
that it is evident, therefore, the Priests forbid the study
of the Old and New Testament, lest their idolatrous and
cormpt practices should be exposed, and themselves,
with their priestcraft, be rejected. It was more difficult
to convince her, that the Pretres wilfully distorted the
sacred oracles, thereby to enforce their treacherous im-
positions upon the souls of men. She detested the
Jesuits whom she had known ; but it was not so mudi
for their dreadful frauds and unholiness, as on account
of the personal miseries which she endured, either from
her past connection with them or through their direct
instrumentality. In respect also to her own individual
sins, she seemed more disposed to impute them to the
instigations of the Roman Priests, than to her own
choice, and willing participation. Thus her mind was
Hhielded in a double delusion almost impenetrable ; and
she realized not the feeling implied by the Psalmist —
"I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever
before me. Against thee only have I sinned, and dcn»
♦lllis evH in thy sight," —

14*

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;66

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. Soii^etimes I became almost impatient, when I dii*
99raed how elowly her mind received the plainest dic-^
tates of revealed truth. Her objections,. however, gradu-
ally became weaker. I found the words of Christ
f eiy beneficial for. my assistance, ^'search the Scrip-
tures ;" and I argued, that the Savior's authority was
[paramount to that of all inferior teachers ; and that
although I bad encountered great obstacles to under-
stand them, yet by patient assiduity and humble sin-
cere prayer, I had found, that " whatever things were
written aforetime were written for our learning, that
through comfort of the Scriptures we might have hope."
Often did I read to her the penitential Psalms, and the
chapters of ancient history which record the lamenting
confessions of Patriarchs and Prophets; especially those
which directed our meditations to the degeneracy of
human nature, the lost and ruined condition of man
by sin, and the corruption of our own hearts whence
all sin flows. On these occasions, she would sometimes
stop me, and think. Although little conversation then
occurred between us; yet I frequently reminded
Therese, that the word of God to be beneficial must
be personally applied ; and if its doctrines and examples
and commandments are not thus enforced directly upon
our own consciences, all its important instructions will
be of no permanent advantage. ?; -.j^f ■ .

There was also a wandering inattention in Therese
tirhich often disconcerted me ; but I had counted the
cost of my services and patience. 1 beheld a woman
emaciated, enfeebled by a lingering malady, wretched,

^:S''

(ft-f-W '■» ■■ « »■•;,■■

-•aMUtaMM^' -

■'«tr— 't'l

S '»'■

nl dif*
lest dic--
, gradu"
' Christ
e Scrip-
rity was
md that
} uader-
nble ein-
igs were
lag, that
ve hope."
, and the
EimeiitiQg
ally those
aeracy of
Q of man
s whence
lometimee
ation then
reminded
icial must
examples
ectly upon
ctioDs will

a Theresc

ounted the

a woman

, wretched,

I6r

agonized with most tormenting fear, enshrouded in the
deepest menial gloom, and agitated by a tempest ol
conflicting paasioos. Although 1 had received from hsr
many, and the utmost injuries which she possibly could
inflict ; and although she had dishonored every femi*
nine characteristic, and severed all the endearing bonds
of common humanity; yet she was forlorn, despised by
the instigators of her crimes, and claimed my compas-
sion. She possessed an immortal soul, and it was my
duty to use all appointed means, under the Divine
blessing, for her salvation : and she was my mother f
and she was your mother, my dear Diganu ; and her
wicked ways had not exonerated me from my duty us
her daughter, much less as a Christian. These consi-
derations animated me to persevere. I could not forget
my own past ignorance, my former danger, my mar-
vellous rescue, and my present privileges and consola-
tions. Therefore I constantly supplicated for wisdom
to act aright, and for full success to my feeble exertions.
Knowing tlie danger of bewildering her mind, and
aware that until Therese correctly apprehended some-
thing of the Divine character and attributes, and until
she also felt that his " law is holy, and his command-
ments holy, just, and good," I should be only " as one
who beateth the air ;"as much as possible I restricted
myself to these two subjects. Occasionally I adverted
to Marguerite's evangelical understanding of the genu-
ine effects of saving knowledge upon the souL I se-
lected some examples from the sacred word, and also
different corroborating testimonies from the volumes
which I pofsaessed to the same effect ; and at IcDgth, to

16S

my great delight, I discovered that her conscience
began to yield to the light and the truth. Sometimes
Tberese would inquire — "how is it powible that such
great coincidences in experience and language can exist
among persons of different ages and countries 1" This
tact naturally led me to urge the univ^sal suitability
of the Bible to the wants of all mankind ; and to argue
thai the identical effect of pure Christianity in' all per-
sons, however otherwise unknown, was an undeniable
proof of its divjne origin and bestowment. ;I also per-
ceived . that she was often affected with devotional
expressions, particularly if they implied intense feeling,
and aversion to mental disquietude ; and she w^ould
frequently use David's figure, that "the bones which
thou hast broken may rejoice." Yet I could discover
nothing of a direct tendency to that avowal of contri-
tion ac-companied by the exercise of faith and earnest
ness of prayer, which I so anxiously longed to witness.
When persons have wandered so far, not only from
the pathway of righteousness, but also from all natural
decorum, and have violated every powerful and salutary
restraint of conscience which the Judge of the quick
and the dead has appointed for the order and comfoit
of man ; if in mercy they are awakened on the verge
(rf the precipice, whence they mi^t plunge into the
ubyss of eternal wo, it seems to be the appointment of
infinite wisdom and love, that they shaU usually feel
their steps with caution, as they retrace their course to
'^'the strong hold." One hope often composed my mind.
Without any hesitation, Therese would feelingly con-
Ass that she was Among the chief «f ^in^ers. I oiso

169

knew that much of her criminality had flowed from
ignorance and unbelief ; and although lest vhe might
bo tempted to deceive herself with u fallacious hope, I
never adverted to this special point, in the Apostle Paul's
confession, yet from it I was ei.>x)uraged to proy, that
the faithful saying might be fulfilled in her believing
and app9opriatiugjy;c^ptation.

-.^..

i
ft

During many weeks it would be easier to describe
her state by negatives, rather than by affirmatives.
She had not» as I conceived, evangelically repented j
but her conscience was entendered. She did not be-
lieve in the Lord Jesun Christ ; but she totally rejected
all other dependence for salvation. She was not a
fruitful servant of the Redeemer ; but she no longer
trampled up«n his rightful authority. She could not
forget the unsatisfying pleasures which she had so
long and ardently pursued ; but she had imbibed an
utter repugnance to all her iniquitous practices. She
had not received the pure gospel, partly from the uneasi*
nesa which she felt in submitting to its yoke ; but
she utterly disowned (he merciless tyranny of the Jesuit
Priests. She was exactly like a traveller without a guide
in a desert; where to stand still is impossible, but to move
is to storm every conceivable danger. Gradually how-
ever, her peevishness was less distressing. Her temper
was airended, and her remarks upon religious topics
became more frequent and more scriptural. Whether
this was the result of our seclusion from the world, or
our attention to the books which I read to her, or to any

■f>4

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'•' '"T^mm* '' ■

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■-.•*

17D

eiTectual application of divine truth to her own pecu^
liar state, I could not decide. I hoped the latter ; but
I rejoiced with trembling. One thing, however, rather
astonished me. She appeared to manifest less anxiety
to know my own pergonal history ; and the subject
was scarcely ever adverted to, except to ascertain liow
I felt at the diflferent periods when^was prtpmt with
me ; thereby to explore another trait in our varied vc-
coUectionsjthat she mig^ht comprehend all the operations
of Divine truth upon our minds. These cursory inves-
ligations being spontaneous gratified me, because they
indicated an inquiring mind ; and certified, that the
hours of silence and of our separation were not totally
unprofitable. .,. ,> r v

jj't: ■ ■ ' '-,.■.;. "- •

. On the las^t day of December, after I had read aloud
some of the PHalrni^l, and a pat?sage from one of my
authors adapted to the end (^ the year, Therese ad<
dressed me — " I know not, Louise, how exactly to ac-
count for the fact, but I have never known so agreea-
ble a time in my hfe, as the weeks which have elapsed
since you came to Three Rivers." My reply was — " I
i=ejoice if 1 have been able beneficially to serve you,
and to show you what. I might have been, if other cir-
cumstances had controlled our mutual destinies."
Therese answered — " That subject may be discussed
upon some other occasion ; my object now is to remind
you, that ta morrow we may expect to see Roboirsic,
and I shall be pleased to tell him of your great kind-
ness to jne." I again remarked — " I have not forgot-
ten, Therese, that he has never yet disappomted me :

/ . '

WT-

^ 1

pccu-
r; but
rather
mxietjr
subject
in how
nt with
ried rC'
irations
f inves-
ise they
hat (he

totally

,d aloud

B of my

•ese ad-

j to ac-

agreea-

^as— " I
VQ you,
her cir-
stinies."
iscussed
remind
ohoirsic,
at kind-
»t forgot-
,ed me :

iod he knowfl, that no day in the year has been so*
BDxiously desired oa the first. It has been atways,
since my separation from Diganu, aday of comfort in
my own mind, and of gratitude to God ; and although
my friend did not abbolutely engage to see me on any
particular day, but during the holidays, yet 1 hope
Hiat the morrow in a peculiar degree will be a day of
peace." Therese rejoined — "Vous avez raison, you arc
right, I do not, I cannot expect, indeed 1 have no right
to look for a day of comfort, or to be at peace ; but
I feel sincerely thankful to God, i trust, for sending
you to me ; and if I am not stronger in health, that 1
am improved in knowledge, and clearer rn principles,
than at the end of the Inst year. My expectations,
Louise, are very contracted. I cannot even lift up my
eyes unto heaven. I can only cry — *God be merciful
to me a sinner' ; and yet twelve months ago, I had no
knowledge of myself, nor can I truly say that I even
desired thus to be made rightly sensible of my guilt
and danger, and to obtain delivering grace. '

I know not exactly how I felt at these hopeful avow-
als. 1 could only silently pray that the 1 .ord wouU)
be in the good work, if it was not savingly commenced ;
and if the incorruptible seed by the word of God had
been implanted, that he would carry it on until the day of
Jesus Christ. Therese was watching me. Whether
my lips moved, I know not ; but she saw my repress-
ed emotions of satisfaction and interest in her humble
and artless acknowledgments. " Louise — she said,
with gjreat pathos — I am not acquamted with thego*

i'i"-rus\t>*I ■*>■'' ij

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172

I < I

very important concerns — yow are. Pray for me, as
you do alone for yourself ; and give thanks to God,
that we may end this year, seeking his mercy, and
imploring an increase of good for the New Year."
She had never before requested me to pray, nor did I
feel qualified to be a devotional leader for another ; but
who could resist such an appeal, at that season, and
i^om our humbled, contrite mother "? From that period,
your Louise cea3ed not to offer her da^ly prayers and
supplications, making our joint requests with thanks-
giving known unto God.

True to his hour, on the morning of the New Year,
Rohoirsic entered, and congratualated us on our ap-
parent comfort with each other. Having pleased
Therese and dehghted me by assuring us of your pros-
perity, he departed, accompanied with our blessing
and regard, while we mutually rejoiced, that his inter-
vention to settle us in the same habitation had been
attended with such propitious effects. One of the
consequences of the counsellor's visit was unexpected.
Speedily after, Therese requested me to recount the
jdanner of my escape from the Pretre's residence ; and
I think, during our whole intercourse, that nothing
seemed to gratify her so much respecting our temporal
concerns as my narrative. "It was not to that
wretched woman, Guise's fears only, that you owed
your safety in part — Therese remarked — but also to
Che Jesuit's anxieties. He knew that it would be im<
possible long to detain you without a public exposure.
His visit to Quebec was therefore to arrange a proper
place for your reception : but have you no strspi

4*^

me, ad'
to God^
•cy, and
Year."
lor did I
ler •, but
3on, and
It period,
lyers and
1 thanks-

Jew Year,
n our ap-
y pleased
your pros,
ir blessing
ii his inter-
had been
)ne of the
mexpected.
ecount the
aence ; and
at nothing
ur temporal
lot to that
you owed
-but also to
vould be ira-
lie exposure,
jge a proper
)U no sttspi

doD who that Priest tedlly is 7" My reply was — *'St6;
I never could form any idea of the place or his nameJ*
I know not which of us developed the strongest shiver*
ing, when, with a tremulous voice, scarcely audible^
tiind concealing her face with her shawl, she uttered
the short but frightful sentence — " That Priest is the
father of iJiganu" Tftis electric evolution of a laby-
rinth of terrific mysteries was indubitably hurtfiil to my
bodily energies. From that shock I never recovered.
However, it destroyed at once a 11 the prior aversion whicb
I had constantly experienced to become acquainted with
the history of our mother. Had her strength admitted ^
her to have written her dreadful tale, I should rather
have pernsed than heard it; but as that labor wa*
not feasible on her part, I resolved if pos»ilie to ascertain
all that it might be proper for me to know of her past
life in conversation ; as I judged, however repulsive and
awful might be the disclosures which she could make
of her sinful course, that all her other sins could not
possibly transcend in enormity the single atrocious
wickedness which she had thus avowed. Therese
saw the effect which her most unexpected communica>
tion had produced. With her comparatively blunted
sensibilities, she had not nicely comprehended how t
should feel ; but as she afterwards stated, the harrowing
fact was disclosed to me, expressly that I might be more
anxious to know her biography, as well as our own in
connection with her's, and as of unspeakably higher im«
portance, that I might be able to administer spiritual I
knowledge to her, exactly adapted to her necessitiev.
Providentially, my brother, you were sent to our assirt-

■ 1' '?,«,

"■^mami

mmm

-IP

■wi wwu ii i mw

174

auce. I directed Roboirsic to transmit me some books»
the value of which 1 knew not except by reference.
But 1 gave him a carte blanche, with my earnest pray-
er that you might be directed by the Holy Spirit to send
ine those volumes, which with the iScriptures should
make your mother wise unto salvation. 1 carefully
studied every book before Lxead ii to Therese, that
I might not unintentionally mislead her. When you
again examine those precious memorials, you will
perceive how attentively youi-'Luiher, your Calvm, your
Claude, and your Saurin have been scrutinized ; and
you will rejoice to be assured, that their illumina-
tion irradiated and consoled the close of our earthly
pilgrimage.

)

The hideous information, which had been so concise-
ly but impressively <onveyed to me, produced no de-
rangement of our intercouise upon other subjects ; but
for some clays, not a syllable of a personal reference
was exchanged. We talked of man and his corrup-
tion ; of sin and its deformity ; of the hardness of the
human heart ; of he infinite compassions aud wonder-
ful forbearance of God ; of the preciousness of the
Saviour ; of the ne> essity of regeneration ; of the con-
trasts between an obilurate siiiner and an evangelical
Christian ; of the value of the soul ; and of the sub-
limely unutterable feelings connected with a just view
of the resurrection morn ; — and it is a cause of grati-
tude, that we were enabled occasionally to forget our-
selves in these soaring etherial contemplations. Al-
though solicitous to bear more of Thcrese's way ward-

lebookflt
eference.
lest piay-
it to send
;s should
caietully
rese, that
^hen you

you will

ilvin, your

zed; and

lUumina-

ur eavtbly

1 so concisC'
;ed no de-
bjects; but
il reference
his coriup-
iness ol the
and wonder-
mess of the
of the con-
evangelical
1 of the sub-
h a just view
luse of grati-
10 foigel our-
)lations. Al-
3e's wayward-

■■:v:

175

ness so for as it concerned ourselves, yet I almost shud-
dered at the anticipated narrative. She perceived my
sudden excitement, whenever a remark approximated
the boundary bet\Veen the actual past of guilt and the
present reality of compunction, and therefore saga-
ciously adoptJ^d the only mode by which proltably the
repulrtive subject eligibly could have been rtsumed.
Some circumstance originating in our temporary feel-
ings had led our conversHtion to the suljectof human
mortality, and its momentous consequences. There
had been an indistinct allusion to the possil iiity of a
future personal reco^aiitiori of e;tclj other b^ earthly
associates. On this point, Therese had bet«)re declared
me a visionary; but she then selected the mteiesfing
theme as a key to the elucidation of all t he secrets of
our earthly existence. "I suppose, then — said Therese
— although you may never see your broi her Diganu
any more upon earth, you expect to meet hmi again
in heaven?" Well did she app^'ciate how tlie rcci^ilec-
tion and mention of you v-ver cjAidted as an unfailing
cordial to my peiturbed spirits. 1 ufihesitating^ly replied
— "Can I doubt it? Shail we p(»ssess less discern-
ment, knowledge, and Chrstian alTect.Jii in the invisi-
ble world of light and pekiec:ion, thin in this gloomy
vale of deficiency and sin ? Is not paradise i>i/ealed to
us as the general assembly and church of the first born
who are written in heaven, the spirits of just men made
perfect ? and 1 confidently believe Digar<r. will be there-
and I hope with you, Therese, to enjoy th At sanctified
undying communion of which on earth we have been
deprived."

176

■

(

" If your interpretation of the Scriptures be true, the
anticipation is probable — your mother answered — and
you think that you will meet him with no other emotion
l^an inconceivable ecstacy." My reply was this —
** Assuredly, the imperlectionu and the dross uf our sinful
nature thence will be excluded ; and in the elevatiou of
celestial sanctity, we shall be conscious ol nothing but
the most refined and rapturous bliss " My companion
inquired — "You mean, 1 suppose, that congenial per-
sons who have always lived and loved in the reciprocal
interchange ol the purified aflections and benevolence
of Christianity, may tiius anticipatea blessed meeting?"
I responded — "No; 1 iliink the doctrines of iScripture
make no exception. Lazarus could not personally have
known Abrahan), and yei from our Lords intaUible
delineation, we must suppose ; that the disembodied
beggar realized the very essence of love, cotnniunion^
and enjoyment with the beatified patriarch." Therese
rejoined — "Even admitting this consolatory truth in re-
ference to persons who have never known each other,
but who had walked through hfe quickened by the
same grace and in a congenial spirit, how will it
affect those, who, although st bsequently penitent and
converted have had no opportunity to redress the
wrongs which they had done, and to make reparation
to those whom they had injured .<?" — 1 did not perceive
the point to which this conversation was naturally ten
ding. But deeming the question to be only of a ge-
neral character, I observed—" The nature of our spirit-
ual existence, and even of our relations in the New
Jerasalem, is beyond our present apprehensions ; but

'■m,mt/sf . rjimia^^m^its^.. ■m^^f'*^ •

-■'<i* ^rm,0 '^"i

an who are admitted intothat state aje absolutely divest-
ed of every alloy, and consequently the evils of earth
no longer will be sources of pain. I have sometimes
fancied that by a mysterious process now incompre-
hensible to us, even the recollection of prior evil may
be obliterated from the mcniory of glorified saints.
This, however, is not an article of faith ; nevertheless,
it may be useful to render more odious that corruptipn
which is the source of all our present anguish, and
which, if not removed by efficacious grace, will ex-
clude us from never-ending felicity." Therese re-
marked — "Eh hien, well ! then I presume, Louise,
that you would feel no diminution of the joys of para-
dise to meet me there." I answered, with manifestly
more tenJerness and ardor than ever your mother had
before witneHsed in me — "Oh, no! it is now my daily
solace, that I trust I shall be spared to witness youf
assurance of hope and your peaceful removal to the
city of thr living God/ This effusion of my affection-
ate feelings was decisive. Therese was completely
overcome. After a long paune she stretched her arms,
lifted her eyes to lieaveD, and with the deepest fervor
and pathos cried out — " God of mercy, bless my Louise!
how can I atone for the miseries that 1 have inflicted
upon her? how can I express my gratitude to thee, for
the comfort of her presence in my solitude and afflic-
tion?" She sunk into aspecics of reverie. "Do you think
it possible, Louise — at length she asked — that I shall
ever meet you in heaven ; or that you can forget what
1 have been to you?" There was a resistless melting of
3i)Ul in her tone and mannci which overpowered me i

f.'"

J., .';••;■_

Sj^^i-*-*^'^' -'•'**■■'-

mi.r^: i ii W^ sB m

, *

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17a

and it was some time before my feelings permitted me
to reply — " I trust that we shall meet in heaven ; and I
have no doubt that then I fc;hall not remember any of
the painful occurrences to which you allude T With the
most impatient avidity she inquired — '* How can you
make that appear ?" I thus answered her question.
** Very easily. We have been acquainted, Therese,
scarcely six months in this convent, and my present
sensations towards you are as different Irom those
which harrowed ray bosom, when { read your letter in
the garden, as the recoil from a serpent, is unlike te
the embrace of a friend."

Tour mother had conducted me te the very poinl^
where our conversation had imperceptibly tended.
After a short pause, in which we had been meditatiMg
X)pon that change in our mutual relations, which our
joint unpremeditated avowals had unfolded, she glan-
ced me with expressive solicitude and tenderness,
and again asked — " Do you sincerely believe that you
will meet Diganu in the paradise of the blessed ?" I
replied — " ALL that lonce knew of him, and all which
Kohoirsic has since so imperfectly stated, convinces me
that upon Christian principles, such a confidence may
f^ecurely be indulged." Thcrese impatiently inquired ;
•^ Then if I should be there as you wish, how will
your brother meet me 7'- I instantly discerned how
adroitly Therese had completed her design ; but it was
toti late to retract, and I was obliged to narrate my
history from the period of my departure from Lorette
fintil the day of our wretched separatii^p. The st^ry

'..%;■

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v'Tr '^*-*ii,-^-^ti5

•m

tied me
; and I
• any of
Viththe
•an you
question,
rherese^
present
m those
lettei in
mlike te

ry poinf^
tended.
ieditatit«g
hich our
she glan-
indernes8|
that yoti
raed?" I
all which
dnces me
ence may
inquired \
how will
irned how
but it was
arrate my
am Loretie
The story

179

was beneficial to our mother. From it she derived
encouragement. In unfolding my pungent exerciseg,
she saw a reflection of her own agonized feelings ;
and by the slow advances which I made in the acquisi-
tion of saving knowledge, she was supported with the
hope that her personal attainments were not fruitless ;
while in th& confidence, that the incorruptible seed had
been formed in your heart, my dear Diganu, she ex-
pressed unfeigned gratitude to the Friend of sinners.
The varied subjects, which flowed from this review of
my life while I resided with you, furnished a plentiful
source of thought and investigation. Our subsequent
intercourse, however, was very irregular. F^requeutly
our dialogues were little more than question and answer,
or a remark en passant, as I read the Scriptures or some
author whose remarks interested us. Only when
neither of us was depressed by our languor and ner-
vous feelings, did we appear temporarily to forget our^
selves, our situation and our debility.

" Louise — said the sufferer one day, as I Avas reading
to her Massillon's sermon, ' sur les Elus' — ] cannot
comprehend how any persons can know that they shall
be saved." In reply I observed — "Of all our mental
exercises, and of all our religious experience, the in-
quiries connected with this anxiety are the most inter-
esting and important." Therese remarked — " So I
now feel ; and the eloquent dfecourse which you are
reading induces me to interrupt your progress, that I
may understand by what means you have been
artabled to speak so confidently upon that point." Mj

^RWH

-mmtm

180

(.-.-

■i*

uiiswer was — " t do not know how to explain this
subject, unless 1 retrace my own convictions and
oxperience." Your mother rejoined — "That isexactly
tny meaning. I seem to apprehend better the nature
of truth when it is embodied in the personal exercises :
and when you say, thus I thought, and felt, and acted,
it impresses my mind with double force ; because it
gives to the illustration of doctrine all the weight of cre-
dible testimony." I subjoined — " Already Iha\^e inti-
mated to you. Therese, that eighteen months, or more,
elapsed from the time of Marguerite's communications
until the beginning of my residence with Diganu. The
whole of that period was a time almost of darkness. I
kjarned to detest the grosser iniquity which passed be-
fore me ; but I had no opportunity or means to acquire
the evangelical substitute. I abhorred the hypocrisy
and the licentiousness of the Jesuits, and their abandon-
ed associates in orime, but I knew nothing of Chris-
tian sincerity and the holiness of the gospel. All the
attempts to convince me, that after death man is no
more, were p,r,.i vailing. My soul revolted from the
idea of living in tiensuality, and then to be annihilated.
A dawning of light came upon my mind respecting
fhereal'ty of Purgatory, and the worship of saints and
images ; but I do not remember that my doubts led
CD any essential result. My disbelief of the J\4ass was
more influential ; for Marguerite, in the form of two
questions, had given me a theme for constant examina-
tion. Incidentally she had mentioned something
iibout concession anrl going to Mass at Easter — ' do you
ihtnk J asked the dying Christian ; that the holy Sa»

■M^

M^n-aei

.,— ^,^-

'm0'*^'

^■' . %^,

181;

viour would permit himself to be handled by the vilest
sinnera iu the world / Can you believe thai such wretch-
ei as the Jesuit Priests whom I have described to yoa
are able to turn a morsel of dough into their God, and
then swallow the Almighty /" Therese suddenly ,
interposed — '* Well, indeed that is extraordinary, la
my worst days, that very notion sometimes came into
my minil ; hut it only hardened my conscience. It
induced me to esteem and even delight in the opinion,
thai all the picturcj of Pursratory and the Jesuit's ter-
rific denuncuitions about the future hell, were only ft
phantom, and that religion iti^elf was their own cunning
artiuce and priestcraft. But go on with your story."

"The influence of this question was great and per-
manent — ^1 continued — because it led me to understand
something of the monstrous absurdities of their system,
to whi( h we were required to assent upon pain of ana<
theiTui, and which sentence of excommunication, I
have nodoubtjoften consfitutes the excuse for J he, secret
murder of their abused victims, when they no longer
delight the Priests." Tiierese^ with a most expressive
and melancholy countenance, nodded heras&ent. "Mar^
guerite paused for my answer, I added — ' I must not
dispute our holy mother the Church — was my reply —
you know the Priests teach us, that this is a deep
mystery not to be pryed into by the common people,
but only to be believed and adored.' The old woman
rather pettishly retorted — " Nonsense ; if a Jesuit tells
me that he can change the river into a horse, must I
Mieve him 7 and when to prove it, he has mumbled

H-

182

tfver some Latin which I neither hctxi nor understand,
am I to admit his assertion to be true, althoiii^h I see
the river flowing before my eyes, and can drink ite
Water aa us^ual f Ah ! ma chere, My dear ; they de-
ceive you, and unless you take care, you will find hat
wicked infidels who talk and peiform ^ ' h blaspl imy
con'^ei ning God, with more inipudeiice, will avt)v and ^
pracrise their heaslly principles respecting wor len."
Therese hastily remarked — " Marguerite well tiider-
stood the aulyect. Her inference was coiieci. Per- "
sons who ca I be seduced to profess as their belief, that
a shameless Roman Priest can make the Lo d Jesus
Christ for iis to eat, can be taught to affirm every ab-
surdity and corruption. As u natural consequence,
when we are assured that the Jesuit holds our destiny
in his hands, to insure his favor, we submit to ail
that he wishes an«l orders. This 1 wofuily knew to be
(rue ; but wliat was the result in your own medita-
tions /" To this question i replied — " L was in contin-
ual perplexity, not so much from the doctrinal contra-
diction which she adduced as from its application : but
I could never afterwards separate ihe ideas which she
thus had comoiued. 1 was assuredly convinced, that
it deinandcid less eifroniery to seduce a thoughtless
$irl, than to propound as the fundamental article of
religious faith, a blasphemously utter impossibility.
The scenes which I had witnessed, the opinions
which I heard, the attempts to corrupt my own princi-
ples, my aversion to the hypocritical course of life con-
tinually around me, the contrasts hr een demure-
ttesB and levity, profession and practice, guilt and

183

staod,
[ L see
nk ite
ey de-
ft hat

)hemy
\v and ^
)r len.**
iiider-
Per-
ef, that
J Jesue
;ry ab-
|uence,
destiny
to ull
>\\ to be
tiled ita-
contin-
cotitra-
n : but
ich she
d, that
ightless
tide of
isibility.
)piQion6
I pririci-
ife con-
iemure
M and

absGlutioD, and the reeoUectiQp of Magaerite's pictucc
of conventual hfe, all convinced me of her veracity,
and I tacitly admitted that the Priest's system and
doiniirs are equally detestable ; hut I had no truth and
no snncity as an equivalent. Long before we went to
Jacques Cartier, I had secretly rejected the adoration of
images and the invocation »f saints, except when I
was obliged to join with oth -n the ceremonial ; but
then 1 was an infidel, for . iit^ed no other worship,
My situation, however, may be briefly described as a
state of desire. 1 perceived the gross darkness and
danger of my previous condition, and 1 longed for light
and deliverance. That I had gone astray as a lost
sheepj I clearly ascertained : but how to discover the
right path 1 knew not ; nevertheless, it was my con-
stant solicitude. Without exactly comprehending my
object, doubtletis I often silently prayed foi right instruc-
tion ; and I distinctly recollect, that I realized a restless
anxiety to read that Bible, of which Marguerite had
spoken. Thus the time passed ; if I did not under-
stand truth and goodness, that I might love and enjoy
them ; I very clearly discerned that which was gross-
ly erroneous and evil, and the curse of them, I deter-
mined resolutely to avoid." Your Mother remarked —
"Inmany|xjinta,lcan,understand theseex rcises. Some
of these feelings which you have specified have been
my own ; only combined with other sensations, which
you happily can never know* I cannot say that I have
possessed the great desire of which you speak, neither
had I some time since the faintest glimpse of the true
light ; but I perceived that all which I had believed

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to b« true was false, and that my wkele life waa aft
odious tissue of atroekyaseriminality. Ah f what firea
of misery did the review enkindle hi my bosom— and
layiDg her hand on her heart with most affectingemotioii
—they are not yet extinguished ,' hut thanks be to God!
these were not intertwined with your other sufTeringe.
You had not the gnawing worm of sleepless remorse
Id add horror to your gloom, and an agonized consdence
thundering wo and despair hoth asleep and awake —
and clasping her hands, after a long pause, amid con>
Tulsive shuddering, she faintly articulated — " God be
merciful to me a sinner!"

i 1 'irr

'■L*tl'i''i:

'!d>

l-!-.f>

• " Ah, Therese ! — I atiswered — every heart knowetb

. its own bitterness. I cannot unfold to you what I felt,

what for a long time I realized, and what even now

M: . l^equently agitates me, when I recur to that eventful

sight, in which Diganu and Chretien so providentially

discovered me. Often am i almost petrified at the

^ . thought of my then hopeless situation. But God has

■ been very gracious to me. Yet when I reflect, that I

^^.i. was on the very threshhold of the eternal world, an

, ., ' Unthinking, and impenitent sinner more ! O! who can

'^ bear the awful thought; probably chargable with a

mad jump from the icy rock at Lorette into (he abyss of

^'■'i r* everlasting fire ; I also have passed through houra of

;4^. anguish, and $hed tears of sorrow, for which all that

>4 earth calls good and great, as a compensation, would

■i; be less than nothing and vanity." Therese observed—

^ A , •* I have always acquitted you of any impropriety and

guilt on that occasion ; for I thought ycu said that

■>■■

ill.

'Ammm^mvsty

hoi fir«6
^— and

jcmodoii

etoOodI

uflfering*.

I remoriO

awake —
Linid con-
-« God be

rtknowcth
what I felt»
even now
It eventful
widentially
fied at the
ut God has
fleet, that I
world, Bn
y ! who can
able with a
theabyesof
rh houi-8 of
lich all that
Ltion, would
le observed—
jropriety and
ou b-aid that

. ■ ■ . ^'vait- ' ''
• (1 W ■

-<--^ M-.'' lip;*; ;.. : .

yoii#6raiiot'do1(UHaoi]s, iittd hid no fecoliecdoti of any
thing w^ksh succeeded after you stood in the front of
tile church, until you found yourself among the Indian
^Omen?^ I replied — "That v the very point in, i
Which I am dO wonderfuUy indebted to the goodness ot
Ood. Could I be convinced, that iri the fuH poesesBion^
of my senses as a rational, accountable creature, I ha^vf"
attempted the leap from that memorable rock, I ehoula .
never know abiding pisace. But as your own expe-
rience has told you, nothing is more difficult than for ^^
persons to draw the precise line of distinction between
the sudden paroxysms of an irresponsible delirium, and'
that effervescence which is both the cause and the
effect of guilt. To illustrate exactly my meaning, t
will appeal to yourself, Therese ; does your conscience
acquit you of all guilt, because in many of those acts
which you most lament and abhor, you were inveigled '
by thesophistry and enticements of the Jesuit Pretres ?"
— She instantly replied — "Oh, no ! I feel that I was
bi&sely criminal." I then propounded the question'
— '" But you would not voluntarily have engaged in
those shocking acts ?^ In answer Therese observed
— " Assuredly not. Titiated as were my sentiments, "
the sins which I committed most probably would have
been avoided had I been surrounded with associates of
different principles, character, and habits." I rejoined^
— « Then you at once perceive the difficulty of my
distinguishing between that which was voluntary a^ "*
criminal, and that which was the consequence of physi-
cal and moral iiulapaGity. It was my grand defect oa* •
that occasion that I did not offer my broken incoherent^

*'*V,'!'

.■'• '^ MMi'"'

-\''

1-^'

prayer to God. I had no correct idea of the blessed
Savior, as our refuge and strength in distress, th#
hearer of prayer, or deliverer, a house of defence^ ancf
a very present help in trouble ; but be pitied my
%norance, and according to his promise, answered be-
fore I called. Notwithstanding my inability to define
all the demerit attached to this crisis of my Ufe, yet it
has been an unfailing source of humility and gratitude ;
and as I became more spiritually enlightened, that
wondrous interposition of his merciful providence en-
kindled and has cherished a hope, which by his Spirit's
aid has hitherto defied all the calamity and hardships
that since have been ray portion. But let me ask you
another question, Therese. When you were living
without God iu the world, can you assert, that during
the long revolution of years, you were altogether un-
conscious of the true character of your actions ?"

" Unconscious ! — she remarked, after a pause — No,
indeed ; full well did I know, alas ! greedily did I eat
the forbidden fruit ; or why should I now be tortured
with the retrospect ?'V To this acknowledgment I an«
swered — ''This then is the argument for genuine con-
trition. Of the evils of which we are undeniably guil-
ty, there can be no hesitation kespecting the duty of
penitence : but as we are so prone to deceive ourselves,
even in reference to those of which the guilt is not so
perceptible, probably the Judge of all decides against
us, and consequently the only mpde is to cast ourselves
at the footstool of mercy, before the throne of graces
prayiog that through Jesys Christ our Liord, we may

IU.

«<'••'.■■-

''4-; .

n .*i,_. ."i

be detivered from the body of this death." Therese in-
quired— if How long did you continue in that hesitating,
or rather beclouded suite of mind in which you left
the Pretre ^ My reply to this question gratified you^
mother. " I perceived immediately after my arrival
at Diganu's house, that he and /^hretien, like their
associates, ivere thoughtless and indifferent to all good •
but that they indulged no directly flagrant sinful habits.
There is an attractive naivete about Diganu ; and I
became deeply interested in him. My apartment
was amply provided with idolatrous trash, which 1
speedily removed ; and took the earliest opportunity
to provide myself a Bible. That treasure I obtained
through the medium of an American prisoner or re>
fugee who visited us, and with whom Chretien was
intimate ; and who piously exulted, as he said, in my
escape from the captivity of i he devil. He n arked a
number of passages which he requested me first to read
and study ; and gave me also a book of prayers ; and
thus reminded me of Marguerite's admonition to pray
for wisdom that I might compreheud the Scriptures.
The light soon beamed upon my mind. God who is rich
in mercy knew the buidens which I should have to bear,
and therefore kindly provided me with ail the strength
necessary for my task. He blessed the perusal of his
own book to my soul ; and having cast off my idots, I
submitted myself entirely to his dbposal. Still I was a
mere child in Christian knowledge. I dared not to go
out. I had no helper or assistant; and my chief acquisi-
tion was fortitude in discarding my former errors, and in
adhering to evangelical truth} as it might be revealed to

''■'■^^'.

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my undeKstaodiog.** Theme rtmaiked— '^Yet it
^)pearatoine; that ycju ixiust have attaiaed inucl>
inequamtaiice with the Scriptureis, to have repder^ y<;fM
sp bold in defending your opinions to Di|ganu an^
Chretien.'' In answer I observed.-^" That was only
after their discovery of my principles. Tften did we
converse upon the subject oftheir worship and professed
belief, and as they advanced the common place non;
sense in their own support, I was obliged to defend
my novel opinions; and I thank God, that he so en-
abled me to justify myself, that iDiganu became a sin-
cere disciple before we were separated, and Chretien
was so well disposed that the closing scene at Lorettift
opened his eyes. I was more than a match for theqi
at disputation, because I was assisted by the word '''^
truth ; but in reference to the experimental appUcatiOQ
of the divine oracles, I knew very little," ^ /^^ ^^ .^^

^ " That is thd point'^subjoined Therese— from; whic^
we have diverg^l. I want f* understand how the
truth becomes so clear and powerful in the mind, that
we can be assured of our future happiness?"— ^I re-
plied thus-^" It will be necessary for me to explain a
little. I suppose you will admit, when the Saviour
said to the woman in Simon's house, * thy sins are for-
given thee, thy faith hath saved thee, go in peace ;' that
she knew to all certainty that she was accepted of God,
and interested in his favor.?" Therese nodded her assent,
"But how did she become, assured of it?" I asked.
^'Because the Saviour affirmed it" — answered Therese.
I next in(j[uired~-"But was it for her virtues, her

■5 -.

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i»>»i>»ii.i>itf''iii'

l^>.vi:^-i,itoti

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( I

■iV .

k .

189

-«Yet it
ud inucl>
Dder^ yoM
gaou an4
, was only
en did we
d professed
place ooQr
to defend
t he so en-
ame a sin-
I Chretien
) at LorettjB
) for theni
le word (p^
applic^Mpa

* .■■» ;•!-.

irom; which
d how the
mind, that
jsr'-,I re-

o explain a
le Saviour
inw are for-
e8<^ ;' that
ted of God,
her assent.
" I asked.
m) Theres9.
irtues, her

merits, her exeuses, or her knowledge, that she was re-
ceived and absolved T Therese said — " No, it was of
God's mercy, I suppose, for she could not pay the debt.
She cast herself in humble reliance upon his goodness ;
helieved in his power ; and loved him for his favor be-
stowed upon her. But how does this affect the question
of our knowledge, when Jesus Christ is not here per-
sonally to speak to us ?" I replied—" The Scriptures
are given us as a rule by which to try our spiritual
condition. All the doctrines which we read must be
received as if God himself proclaimed them, as he did
the law from Mount Sinai. All his commandments
must be ackpuwledged, as if they were enforced upon
us by miracles. All his threatenings must be credited
^s much as if we were witnessing their actual fulfilment
in the case of Pharaoh. And all his promises should
be accepted and applied by faith equally as though
they were directly addressed to us ; provided only, that
we can humbly hope the characteristics of his disciples

are descriptive of ourselves." Therese again asked

" But may we not be deceived in our estimate of our
own state before God ?" I onswered — "Certainly : but .
God hath promised to guide those into all truth, who
patiently wait for hb instructions and confide in his
word ; and as his blessed revelation is given expressly to
enlighten our darkness, we may confidently hope, that
he will not withdraw its shinings." Therese rejoined—
"I do not perceive how this excludes the difficulty.
Many cannot read the word, and consequently will
have to lose its benefits in 'illustrating their true situa-
tion before God." In reply I remarked— **Fpr

^^^:

16*

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. <«!*<*E..'.

«^^W;«'— '^^»^'*^ -

'•-i:»:wvi,n

I 1

190

ynxpote, the ministers of di9 Gospel ^ere appointed
•to teaeh the people th| way of righteousness both
^1 word and doctrine, that they may be able to
grew in grace.'' Your mecher answered — **Bo then
it seems after all that we must have recourse to the
Priest, and believe all that be utters/' My rejoind-
er was this — "Exactly the contrary. The Priest's lips
fhould keep knowledge, and the people should search
the Scriptures. If the Bible were open to every man's
inspection, then it is plain that the Priests could not
sropagate their wonderful and soul-destroying delu-
sions; and every person would learn to peruse the
contents of the Gospel for himself But now the
priests prohibit the people from all knowledge both in
the means and end ; and thus in cunning craftiness,
lie in wait to deceive. Besides I would ask you, The-
rese, whether it is not much more probable, that ano-
(her person who can only judge by the outward appear-
ance will be deceived in deciding our true characters,
lather than a sincere believer who knows the plague
of his own heart, and who closely examines himself
by the word of God? And also is it not much more
* likely, that he will be deluded in estimating his own
character who trusts to the opinion of a Jesuit, whose
declaration will be given according to the money
which he expects to receive ; rather than he who ap-
proaches unto God with all sincerity, uttering David's
impressive prayer < search me, O God, and know my
heart; try me aod know my thoughts ; and see if
there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in
the way everiasting?" Thercse answered—" I sup-
pose therefore, from what you havo said, that the as-

v"T.-T*w f-*»—t*«**T**r-f™ -"

Ur^fyf^^glft^

' 191

surance of wbich you speak is obtained only from «
comparisoo of our hearts aad characters with the watd
of God ; and according as that determines we are to
believe." Upon this remark I observed — ** Undoubt-
edly \ because the Gospel assures us, that by it we at
last shall be judged. If the Scripture had said, that
God would pronounce our final sentence according to
the will of a Jesuit Priest, there would be a clear rule
of duty implied, to secure his favor at any sacrifice ;
but so far fro n it, the Judge of all authoritatively pro-
Qounces, that every person shall give an account of
himself unto God ; and be judged according to that he
hath done in tbe body, whether it be good or bad, with*
out any reference to the reproach or approbation of
mankind."

"But if we are sinners, and of that I am certain —
Therese objected — and we shall be judged according
to our doings, I do not yet comprehend how we shall
escape condign punishment ; and therefore I cannot
admit that there is any sure foundation for that strong
confidence of which you speak. Indeed, it appears
to me to partake v«ry much of the same presumption
that in the Pretres we condemn." I thus replied-*
" The cases are totally different. In trusting for ever-
lasting life upon the plain direct testimony of the word
of God, we only receive the consolation which the
Scriptures were intended to bestow upon the humble,
broken hearted penitent : but in listening to a Priest's
absolution, we rob God of his divine prerc^tiveto par-
don sins : and though the Scriptures plainly declare
the will of the heavenly Majesty, yet we believe a sin-

1 >

K>*i*^^,^:4,v>

192

ful Pretre when he asserts a direct contradiction to the
truth of Jehovah." Therese impatiently said— "Now
I begin to discern ; it never struck me so clearly before^
that a Priest's pretended claim to absolve from sin is
an insult to the Divine Being, and a power which in its
Ttry nature can only belong to the Searcher of Hearts ;
but this has not yet relieved my mind in reference to the
bad doings of manlcind. Knowing himself to be guilty
before Qod of innumerable sins, how can be say, yet I
am saved V* I rejoined — " You already have admitted
the fact in reference to the woman in Simon's house,
when the Lord audibly spoke to her. The principle
and the result are the same, although the medium dif-
fers." Therese earnestly interposed — "Explain your-
self." I continued — " The Gospel proclaims to every
laboring, heavy laden sinner, that if he will approach
unto Christ, the Saviour will receive him and give him
rest. Now this presupposes a consciousness of the bur-
den of guilt ; an earnest desire of deliverance from it ;
unfeigned sorrow for the cause of the weighty load ;
aud hope with confidence in the willingness and ability
of the Saviour to give peace to our souls." Therese
remarked — " Still I do not comprehend the application
of this certainty to the understanding and the con-
science." To this observation, I replied thus — " The
'Work of Divine mercy in the heart of man is through
faith as the instrument. Every thing made known in
the Scripture is a subject of pure belief. Its former his-
tories, its prophecies yet to be fulfilled, its sublime and
unearthly doctrines, its purely spiritual requisitions, its
awful denunciations in reference to eternity ; and its

k...

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?i?^SZ2

193

coBfolatory promises of glory evorlasting are nonf
of them objecUi of aense ; to l^at witliout faith, the
Bible and iU) treasures are to us a nuo-entity.'' The-
tese hastily interrupted me — " Now I see. You haft
opened the way for me to escape from all my anxie-
ties upon this topic, but go on !" I continued-:-'^ It is
plain therefore ; that all the portions of Divinittruth
rest upon similar authority, and that the basis of our
trust is the same. The Christian assuredly believes,
t^at the Saviour died and rose again, upon the general
truth of Divine revelation as affirmed by the most pow-
erful testimony : but does not the sacred book by the-
same apostolic writer also declare in the connected
sentence, ' Jesus our Lord was delivered for our oiTellr
ces, and was raised again for our justification.' N(>w if
we deny (he latter, how can we belieye the other ? For

Paul joins them tt^ether, thereby to declare both the
cause and the eflectof the Ixtrd's death and resurrec-
tion." Therese asked — " Are not these expressions
general and only intended to convey the meaning, that
the Saviour died to expiate sin, and to bestow righteous,
ness, without any particular design." My answer was
prompt — " Certainly not, for the benefits of the gospel
are all purely personal. This you will perceive, if you
remember that the figurative expressions which are
used concerning religion imply our own wants and
the supply <^ them. The consolations of redeeming
mercy are called the bread of life, the water of life, the
pearl of great price, medicine, raiment, healing, pardoUi
communion and friendship. These are all personal
acquisitions, and pre-suppose a direct participation, or

■.|%* V

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(hete bleMingfl would be umIcm. WheSi therefore,
pure religion and undefiled ia revealed at juitificatioQ,
adoptioui wisdom, and an inheritance, all these
terma necessarily purport that they are individual
attainments and posnessions. The greatest privilege
and attraction of Christianity are, that it is a matter of
perso^ concerp to all its disciples." ..« . T

Therese rejoined — " I suppose then, you mean that
we are not only to believe that all the advantages of
the gospel are designed by God to be generally die-
tributed ; but that every person may claim and obtain
the supply of mercy according to his own necessities ?" I
answered — " Exactly, and it is upon this very principle
of appropriation, that the humble and sincere believer
Assuredly confides.*' Your mother then inquired — "Do
you think, Louise, that this confidence ipay not be fal-
lacious 7" My reply was this — " We may be deceived,
Therese ; but the cause of the delusion will be in our*
selves. We cannot have complied with the rules in
that case to ascertain a correct decision." Therese
said — " That is the very idea which I wish you to illus-
trate ; because I think I bhall have more satisfaction,
if I can correctly understand this important matter."
I subjoined to my foj-mer remarks — " I have already
stated that the whole word of God is to be equally
credited as of one authority. Hence, the duties must
be performed, as well as the doctrines and promises be-
lieved." I paused, and Therese signified her approba-
tion of the sentiment. I then proceeded — " Conse-
quently, the inquiry must be entered upon according

?^s«i'

■ . '{

■i

therefore,
itificatioD,
all these
individual
; privilege
matter of

nean that

ntages of

rally die-

od obtain

38itie8 ?" I

principle

B believer

red— "Do

ot be fal-

deceived,

e in our-

rules in

Therese

u to illus-

isfaction,

matter."

already

equally

es must

mbes be-

approba-
Conse-
ccording

to the prefcriplkNU of the sacred volume. The Bibfa
proclaims pardon to the gnilty penitent sinnner as aa
infallible truth, therefore the sole questions are ; have
I experienced that godly sorrow which needs not to bft
repented of ? Do I unfeignedly eredit what the Almigh*
ty saith 7 Have I received the heavenly nriessuge of
his Son, Jesus Christ 7 And the true answer is to bt
known only by the fruits : hatred of sin, a hearty sur*
render to the Lord's service, and a steadfast determina-
tion to believe and to do what God shall require of us ^
to abstain from all evil, and to follow on to know the>
Lord, that Lmay live to his glory here, and dwell in
bis presence for ever. Now, do you not ttiink, The-
rese, that a person with an honest anxiety not to be
mistaken, might attain to a conviction that these were
bis governing dispositions 7" Therese answered— "I
should believe so were it not for the corruption and de«
ceitfulness of the human heart. I therefore asked her
— " But do you not recollect, that God has promised,
'my grace is sulficient for thee," (hat he will shine into
the hearts of his people by his grace : that light is
sown for the righteous ; and that they shall not efiec-
tually, be led astray. The language of the New Tes-
tament often expresses the utmost certainty — " I know
in whom 1 have believed ; we know that we have
passed from death unto life ; and we know that his
testimony is true, that believing we might have life
through his name ;" virith a rich variety of similar pas- *,
sages, all encouraging the humble disciple of the Re-
deemer, to cultivate and enjoy the full assurance of '
Jjaith and hope.** Therese replied — ^^ I now very plainly

■

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pitfi^ive/that reHgflbn k nior« a perMrtiht thini^bf ' tti^
heart, than I had erer yet undpretood it. I hate Dtil^
tilerefore to request, Louise, that yoo will pray for itte^
that I may receive this promised light and comfort.''

Our intercourse was partially suspended for some
days, and it was manifest that Therese's attention was
engrossed by the searching application of Divine trutlt
(6 her conscience. I rejoiced to understand, that shtl'
was deeply salicitous not te decide incorrectly respecting
her eternal welfare. There was such a vast abyss of
d^eneracy both in theory and practice to be extermi-
nated, that she often expressed a doubt concerning the
willingness of the Saviour to rk<nsom her; and I Was
pleased to hear her remark — " I have one fearful sub*
ject to embarrass me, Louise; whether all my companc>
tibn and hatred of sin may not be the consequence
only of my bodily sufferings, and the dread of judg-
ment and future punishment." I replied — ''Are you
sincere in your present exercises and desires?" After
a pause, she answered — " 1 think I am : I have endea-
voured to bring my conscience, with all its truth add
energy, to bear upon my former hateful principles and
conduct; and I humV>ly hope, that lean truly say, I
long to be filled with Christian simplicity and gbdiy sin-
cerity." To this declaration, I replied — " If the Lord
should restore you to health, could you, would you
enter again upon the same course of life, supposing that
you should be without restriction?' Therese shu'ddered ;
«nd with all the strength which she could assume, she
said — "Never, no never; I prefer death even now,

■>*«:.

If. ''H;

■t

tor

g of i^
y for Itt*B^

fot eome
Bnitonwas
ivitie trutli
J, that 8h«>*

respecting
iBt abyss of
be oxicnni-
cerning the

and 1 was

fearful sub-

ly companc-
wnsequence

ead of judg-
—"Are you
res?" Aft«r
|iave endea-
its truth apd
rinciples and

I truly say, I
ndgidlysin-

« If the L«rd
I, would you
uppoeing that
jeshuildered;
1 assume, she
h even now,

^\ih all its perplexing uncertainties." I subjoined^
" Then your character must be changed.'' She in-
stantly added — '* That is certain; but the important
query follows ; is it the new creature in Christ Jesus ?
1 shall never !« pacified, until I can ascertain satis-
factorily, that the old things are passed away." "^

On a subsequent occasion, I communicated to
Therese, some of the more memorable points of my^
experience during my stay in the convents, part c€
which she knew : for although I was unconscious ti
the fact, shS long continued to reside .in the same
Nunnery. The narrative was beneficial to her ; ad
it illustrated the operation of Divine truth upon nif
mind, and proved that neither the solitude, privations,
hardships, nor burdens of nay almost defenceless bon-
flage could destroy the effects of that peace-speaking
voice, which sustained me with its consolation, as it reit-
erated— 'Fear thou not, I am with thee, be not diei-
mayed, I am thy God, I will strengthen thee, I wilt
help thee ; yea, I will uphold thee with the right
hand of my righteousness. In one of my most dis-
tressing and dangerous and frightful dilemmas, wh6
can describe the efiect produced upon my feelings by
Che Holy Ghost's kind application of those words to
my heart — * I, even I am he, that comforteth you,
Who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man
that shall die, and of the son of man ^ ho shall be made
as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy Maker; ani
hast feared continually every day because of the fUrf

17 ^

**«

■IMH

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^*-

..:<«^T^:

■^>^

..^"

198

of the oppressor, as if he were ready tc destroy, and
where is the fuf}^ of the oppressor ?"

•.fti

-,„- hi

The protracted seclusion in our apartments during
the long winter was unfavorable to us, and our conse>
quent debility was too evident even to ourselves. It
was the natural result of the inactivity and tedium in-
separable from the convent. The most pernicious
effect was the additional nervous derangement which
we both felt, and which nothing but air and exercise in
the garden had truly mitigated. On one occasion,
when our minds were more than ordinarily affected by
our peculiar situation, I read to Therese a number of
the most expository scripturesfi respecting the world to
come. T had announced theexhileraiing uuth — "Our
light affliction which is but for a moment, worketh for
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,
while we look not at the things which are seen, but at
tlie things which are not seen ; for the things which are
seen are temporal, hut the things which are not seen
are eternal ; for we know that if our earthly house of
this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of
God, a house lot made with hands, eternal in the
heavens.' fehe interrupted my progress. "These
subjects have strangely affected my mind lately — re-
marked Therese — I feel very different from what I used
to do when thin king of death and futurity." 1 anxiously
inquired — " How is the alteration perceptible ?" — Thcr
fese replied — " I cannot accurately describe it ; but I
do not experience the same terror at the contemplation
of leaving the world as formerly." t earnestly request

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"<lp

troy, and

Its during

aur conse-

selves. It

tedium in-
pernicious

lent which

I exercise in

e occasion,

r aflfected by
number of

he world to

»uth— "Our
workelhfot

;hiof gloryr
seen, but at
iffs which are
are not seen
hly house of
a building of
ernal in the
ess. "These
ad lately— re-
)ra what I used
• 1 anxiously
,tible?"— The.

scribe it -, but I

contemplation

rnestly request

199 \

ed — "Describe this change to me.'* Therese answer-
ed — " My feelings assure me that 1 am mpidly declin-
ing ; cannot you perceive it V My own convictions of
increasing weakness only enabled me to reply — " Not
much ; and I sup|)ose the reasons are, that I am always
with you, and myself gradually becoming more feeble."
Therese continued — " My apprehensions have induced
me to examine myself by the Scriptures ; and like
Manasseh, 1 have often prayed, that I might * know
that the Tior^ he is God;' and like the dying thief, 1 have
cried, 'Lord, remember me !" She paused. " You fill
me with co^nfort — I said — at this bless«^d experience of
Divine mercy ; and have you then tasted that the Lord
is gracious'?' Our mother replied — "I cannot say ex-
actly how I feel, but my spirits are lightened and my
dreadfully distressing fears are removed. I sed in the
Divine dealings towards me, abounding mercy. I re-
trace my evil thoughts, words and actions, and I abom-
inate them : but I am not troubled as formerly with
the sting of them ; and I trust that the Lord has for-
given the iniquity of my sin." I was too affected to
speak. Therese saw my emotion — " What do I not
owe to you, Louise — she subjoined — as the instrument
in God's hands to convert a sinner from the error of
her way ; and I hope you have saved a soul from
death ? I cannot speak with your composure and cer-
tainty ; but I can say with sincerity — *liord, what wait
I for, my hope is in thee V' She paused as if wait-
ing to hear me. I could not command energy to
utter a word. At length, she added — " I think I cap
fell something of your gladness, when you can feel

•«*.

•ip4fip*>

*••— «^- "•

■: C

"'7

200 ^

'-lit
that you are so repaid by God for your mother's unna-
tural barbarity ." This reference changed my feelings,
and in broken sentences, I replied — '* Say nothing
upon that subject. So far as T am concei ned^ I for^ve
it from our first interview here. Diganu will forget ir,
%hen he hears my lale. God, I trust, has compassion-
ated you, and subdued your iniquities, and cast all
your sins into the depths of the sea. Let us not there-
fore raise up what God has buried. If I havc^ been of
any service to you, bless God for his wonderful loving
kindness, who makes all things work together for good
to them that love him.''

That evening for the first time, Therese prayed
^,D,loud ; and until «he was finally disabled, our joint
cleyotic^n^ were alternately assumed by us. It was
an encouragmsihought that a woman so degenerate
should ^le elevated by the Gospel ; that a dreaded per-
secutor should be transformed into a Christian disciple;
chat a loathsome tempter should be changed into an en-
deared friend ; and that the relation of mother and
daughter should be recognized by us. It was the tri-
umph of good over evil, of light over darkness, and of
love over aversion, which Christianity alone can
achieve. From that period she evidently grew in
grace and in the knowledge of our ! <ord and Saviour,
Jesus Christ. But she had no lofty soarings ; her
mind was fastened to thetinchor of hope, but she made
no higher attainment. She never spake of herself but
with profound humility. Of her past life she avowed
her disgust ; of her actual ex|>erience, her apprehensions

. 1

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>.>

st'e uniia-
y feelingSi
}j nothing
I, I forgave
ill forget it,
impassion-
id cast all
? not there-
iv^ been of
Biful loving
her for good

rese prayed
I, our joint
IS. It was
D degenerate
dreaded per-
Lian disciple '^
d into an en-
mother and
t was thetri-
tness, and of
alone can
ntly grew in
and Saviour,
soarings; her
but she made
of herself but
e she avowed
upprchensions

201

were only without alarm and ' terrifying disquietude ;
but of the future, it was merely the resolution of Job ;
'though he slay me, yet will I trust in him ;' and of
Esther — *■ I will go in unto the king, and if I perish »
I perish." . Jf

«l;

■Mi

' ■ T*he day, my dear, Diganu, on which we had finally
been separated at Lorelte, was always to me a period
of peculiar solemnity, meditation and prayer. As I be-
came more familiar with Therese, I resolved to remind
her of the tenth return of the season, and if possible,'
mutually to be edified by the remembrance. Her an-
ticipation was not less acute than my own, and she re-
solved to surprise me. It was a lovely morning, and our
spirits were in unison with the cheerfulness of Spring.
In her prayer, she impressively noticed it. With all
solicitude she invoked pardon for the evil doings of that
day and for the Jesuit criminal instigator ; and for
you and your Louise her supplications were large and
fervent. These were mingled with thanksgivings for
Divine mercy in her latter experience ; and an unre-
served "surrender of herself to the Lord's will ; also
imploring that she might, be able to read her name in
the book of life, and be prepared to meet her God. As
she had thus adverted to the subject, I made no re-
mark. In the afternoon, Therese proposed a walk in
the garden. It was the first time that she had been
out of the house during nearly five months. Every
thing on that occasion seemed changed. Therese's
kindness ; the conviction of her maternal relationship,
and of her Christian character ; and the consolations

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of jredeemiDg mercy, of whicb we hoth hoped that W0
participated, cheered our miade; and we were invigora*
ted by our little exercise. On our return into hei
fDom our Mother remarked — " I have one duty yet t9
perform to you, Louise, for the sake of Diganu ; and as
I feel benefited by oyr little walk, as the time is con-
genial, and as the future is so very mutable and uncer-
tain, I have been revolving the propriety of communi-
cating to you some of the history of my life this eve-
ning. I think I am more capable of doing it now,
than at any prevbus time, since we have resided to<
gether. My daughter, my child — it was the first time
she had ever used the words, and as she kissed me*
she added — are you willing to hear it ?" I could only
return her salutation and reply ; the endearing epithet
had never before escaped me — " I had thought, moth-
er ! — O Diganu, that you had been with us!-'-<o have
surprised you by a reference to this day; but from your
morning's prayer I discovered that you also recollect
the eventful season." — Therese answered — " Ah t it
is impossible, Louise, to conceive what pungency of an-
guish I have suffered for the guilt of this never to be
fivgotten day ; and it is the remarkable change that I
now feel, which induced me to make the proposition-."
Cpon that remark I observed — "1 have longed for
your recital and dreaded it, with very conflicting emo-
tions ; now, I am very anxious to know the events of
your earthly pilgrimage."

-' ^

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ity yet ta
II • andsfl
ne is con-
ind uncef-
comnauni*
e this eve-
ig it now,
tesided Uh>
le first time
kissed me*
[could only
iring epithet
ugbt, moth-
IB !—<o have
ut from your
Jso recollect
d— " Ah I it
kgency of au-
s never to be
:hange that I
s piopoeitioD:."
/e longed for
nflicting emo-
r the events of

M n ^dlOCl' ' 0! 'Sm..

HISTORY OP THERESE. -<^

•*"rt-t

j>\ M

',«>•■

■'? .

,:X-.t

(r-i

. V Night is the time of death ; ' . < ^
When all around is p* ace.
Calmly to yield the weary breath,
From sin and suffering cease —
Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign
To parting friends ;— such death be mine !-*

Tberese xhus narrated her biography.— Father or
mother I never knew ; nor am I aware of any indivi*
dual's peculiar kindness towards me. My earliest re-
collections are concerning an elderly woman who stated
to me this circumstance. ' I was frequently employ*
ed about the Ursuline Nunnery of Quebec, in menial
offices — said Josephine — and on one occasion a child,
which appeared to be about four days old was deposit*
ed in the usual box at the entrance. I desired to adopt
it, to which the Nuns consented ; and you, Therese,
are my nurseling. That name was pinned to your
bosom. This is all that I know of your origin.' That
woman I always addressed by the title of member. Her
appearance was repulsive. She was short and meagre^
with a peculiarly disagreeable countenance; but she.
was always very affectionate and kind to me, and I
have often regretted that I was taken from her. I went
to the school and made some progress in learning.
The Nuns would have me to reside with them : antf

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204 '

{ Josephine was obliged to consent. I well remember
her charging me never to become a Nun. At the con-
vent I often saw her, and was permitted to visit her
at her own room. She always repeated her injunction,
that when I became my own mistress, I ought not to
live in a Nunnery. I still have a very distinct impres-
sion of attending her when sick. Not long before her
death, she communicated the manner in which I had
come under her care ; informed me that I was fourteen
years of age ; that 1 had no earthly relative whom
she could ascertain ; and repeated her strict command,
that I should leave the Convent as soon as I could. I
was present at the funeral of my only benefactress.

A strict guard was kept over me, no doubt by the
contrivance of the Nun who was my mother, and who
resided in the Convent ; but which of them had borne
tne I never could suspect ; because that fact I only
ascertained, in consequence of Diganu's threatened
judicial investigation. However, I soon perceived, that
they designed to entangle me to take the vow. My
mind was resolutely opposed to the measure ; for my
dispositions were totally uncongenial with the manners
of the Convent; and I secretly determined to resist every
scheme to force my assent. My aversion doubtless was
discovered ; either by their unacountable craftiness, or
more probably by some of my acknowledgments at
confession. I was therefore placed in Montreal about
a year after the death of Josephine. There I first at-
tracted the notice of Diganu's -father. Between the
Pi-esbytere and the Nunneries, was an underground

,»»

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205

:emember
,t the con-
visit her
njunction,
ght not to
ict iinpres-
before hei
tiich I had
as fourteen
Live whom
command,
I could. I
efactreBB. •

mblby the
er, and who
had borne
fact I only
threatened
rceivedj that
vow. My
ure ; for my
the manners
resist every
loubtlesswas
craftiness, or
edgments at
ontreal about
ere I first at-
Between the
underground

communication ; and thus the selected girls wreve
made eye witnesses of the familiarities between the
Jesuit Priests and the Nuns, until they were dulf
trained to join the vile association. ; - ,: •/

, Having been initiated into their customs at Montreal,
1 was tninsferred to Three Rivers, by the direction of
the Priest who had chosen me for his prey. There a
similar passage existed between the Jesuit Monas-
tery and the Convent ; aud every artifice was en-
acted to corrupt my principles. The object was not at-
tained ; but it was doubtless perceived thul I had been
infected by the contagion ; and 1 was then removed to
the General Hospital of Quebec, l^hat Institution had
obtained a highly dishonorable charm- ter, even from
those who knew nothing of ( 'hristian morals. The Re-
ligieuaes mixed with promiscuous society and openly
formed tender attachments. The Jesuits consequently,
were in a fury. Th«' Priests disliked thai the military
oflScers and others should intrude into their domain ;
and they dreaded that the Nuns should divulge to
their paramours the secret proceedings of the Jesuits
in the Convents. It is most probable, from notori-
ous facts, that some of the Nuns did publish those
circumstances ' hich afterwards disgraced that pesti-
lential order. Exterior decorum among the Nuns was
eventually coerced by the government ; but the interior
continued to be a scene of flagrant depravity. There
I drank of the intoxicating cup ; and the familiarities
of the Priest who often visited me, although gilded over
by the name of fatherly tenderness to a spiritual child

■;>i>.^,.

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206

^liomhe had long watched, aided his design ; and when
be deemed proper, I was appointed to reside at Point
aux Trembles, l^hat was the period of my intercourse
with Marguerite. The Jesuit often talked with me re-
specting my future views, pretended to illustrate my
childish npininnn, discovered all my contemptible su*
perstitiou^ folly ; encouraged all the notions which I had
imbibed of priestly infuUibility, shewed the importance
of an unreserved exposure of all my thoughts, feelings,
and desire;) to him, with pretended modest gravity
propounded the most obscene and revolting questions;
and under the pretence of cautioning me against sin,
taught me the most loathsome sensuality, and unfolded
the very inmost recesses of all ungodliness, until hav-
ing moulded me in unprincipled views and tieelings to
his design, he compl«;t<d it in the confessional. I was
then totally in his power, and was removed to his
parish, where Digami was born. He was taken from
me almost immediately, and I saw him no more until
he was sent to be instructed with Chretien at Quebec.

For some cause unknown to me, the Priest left his
parish f )r several weeks, and during his absence, anoth-
er Jesuit, said Mass for him. He visited me, and you,
Louise, are his Haughter. Thus debased, and by the
instructions of those two Priests, lost to all correct fe-
male sensibility and moral decorum, I became exactly
what they wished. Afterwards they forced me, under
the pretext of secrecy, to take the veil ; and the years re-
volved amid my increasing love and practice of iniquity.
1 possessed not the smallest particle of afTection for you ;

t.3

i; . '

I ;

nd wbett
, at Poiot
itercourse
ilh me rc-
straie my
iplible su-
hichlhad
niportance
L8, feelings,
jst gravity
questions ;
igainst sin,
ml unfolded
, until hav-
lI feelings to
nal. 1 was
loved to his
. taken from
lo more until
1 at Quebec.

>riest left his
sence, anoth-
lie, and you,
I, and by the
all correct fe-
icame exactly
;ed me, under
d the years re
ice of iniquity-
ection for you ;

■^'. J-

207

or rftther yoo were my aversion ; for it was in coiTse
quence of your birth, that I had been coerced to adopt
the monastic lite. Diganu I cared for, because he was
a child in some degree of affection, for his father had
attracted my fondness ; but for your father, 1 never
felt the least attachment, or respect; and my comfort,
equally with his safety, was in danger from the two
Jesuits. I thought that they never would be pacified,
until they had murdered l)oth of you. It was finally
agreed, that Diganu should be under your father's in-
spection, and that you should be controled, by the other
Priest. All . your sufferings have been the result of
this mischievous compact. I always wished to befriend
your brother ; and his father consented, provided that
he might have the sway over you. Had I known the
feelings of a woman, much more the tenderness of a
mother^ I should have opposed that monster of iniquity ;
but all within me was blunted or perverted, and I rea-
Kzed no more concern at sacrificing my child than any
other girl ; or rather, I was taught that Diganu's pros-
perity depended upon it, and the base agreement was
made." "I here interposed — remarked Louise, and
asked — was my father privy to this extraordinary de-
sign?" Therese answered — " No, he never saw you,
after you were removed from me, when a few days old,
until he recognized the cross in the Church at Lorette.
Indeed, he never displayed the smallest concern about
you. He complied with his engagement respecting
Diganu. merely as a matter of honor between Priests ;
but he was not in the least interested in your or my

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.'After you approached to maturity, the plan waa laid
ft»r your entanglement, f was early apprised that you
manifested a rather intractahle and modest temper, and
that you would not easily be enticed by any artifloeeto
submit to the course delineated for you. The plot
therefore wan contrived gradually to entrap you into
bis snare. I was also told, that it was impoesible to
attract your notice to the usual occurrences of the Con*
vent. By my base advice, you were sent to Point aux
Trembles ; but it was a providential journey, because
there you stiw JVEarguerite, and Ood in mercy permitted
you, through her instrumentality, to acquire that know-
ledge and inflexibilify which enabled you to oTercome
•11 the Priest's machinations." Here I interrupted The*
rese by remaking — " I cannot conceive, Therese, how
you could post^ibly have engaged in that most iniqui*
tous project. There is something so unnatural and so
attrocioas,that I am amazed when the Jesuit propound,
ed that wickedness to you. your feelings as a woman
did not revolt from the proposal to pix)6titute your vir-
gin daughter to the father of your son ?" She displayed
unutterable emotion as she replied — " Ah ! Louise, you
understand not the wickedness of Jesuit seminaries
and Convents. By their regulations, all earthly relation-
ships terminate when the boy receives the tonsure, or
the girl takes the veil. Father and mother, brother
and sister, even son and daughter to them are un*
meaning appellatives, and all mankind are equally
alienated. Hence, parricide and incest, in their jtidg-
BQent, are crimes which they cannot commit. A Pre*
fte and a Religieuse are equdly destitute of all natural

''''■a

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I •

4' i

209

was laid

Th« ptot
I you into
possible to
[)f the C5on«
) Point ftuz
ly, because
y permitted
thatknow-
lo oteTcome
rupted The-
herese, ho^
nost iniqul-
lural and so
lit propound,
eu9 a woman
He your vir-
Jhe displayed

Louise, you
it seminariew
rthly relation-
le tonsure, or
Aher, brother
lem are un»

are equally

in their judg-

iroit. A Pw
ofaUnatund

aensibility. Most of them like mycelf have ntfver Mt
the ordinary experience of domestic affection. They
are the offspring of profligacy ; and by their unknowii
licentious parents, abandoned in infancy to the care of
others, and only watched that they may be nurtur-
ed to think and feel and act like the Priests and Nuns
from whom they derived their existence. "What love
can a woman have for a child who is taken from her
probably without her handling, or even beholding it ;
whom she never nursed, and whose sex she is not per*
mitted to know; and in multitudes of instances whether
allowed to live or sufTucaled at its birth, she can never
ascertain? What aflfection can a Priest have for a child,
ifthe relationship were ascertained, who must be his
disgrace and ruin ? It is certain that the Jesuits not
only kill their children to hide their corruption, but also
the mothers of their oflspring, rather than (heir pre-
tended celil)acy shall be discredited. What civil law
can punish a Priest and Nun thus guilty? They purloin
and destroy every Bible with impunity. They rob
their poor disciples under every possible pretext . They
teach, disseminate and practice all kindsof the vilest
immorality, and who dare to resist them ?"

" I have often thought to ask you, Theresc — I re-
marked — what account can be given of all the itifants
who are left in the cradles at the Nunneries? I have
frequently regretted, that Marguerite did not assist nie
with her knowledge on this subject." Therese lephed
— " That is a very mysterious concern. How that busi-
ness is managed, I never could exactly discover. The ^

■V

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m m m

•PPMI

^\Q

ft;-

AMml)#r Qf obildren thus cust off by their uno^tuml pa*
leota is aatoBishing ; yet no inquiry is ever made fot
Ihem, after they have been placed in a convent That
|0air can only be understood by the Nun in atten-
dance) and the ^perieure and the Chaplain. 1 was
sever intrusted with the office of door-keeper. All I
bnow is, that many more are deposited than ever go
out ; but how the accdUnt is balanced^ it is beyond
my ingenuity, to unravel." I replied — " During my
abode in one of the Convents, I am convinced, that one
hundred children were stated to have been left within
the year to the care of the Religieuses; although T
never saw one of them." Therese answered — " It is
now a wonder to me; but then I thought nothing of it.
The shocking subject only constituted matter for a
^ke among the Nuns; yet with all f.heir impudence, the
Pretres would never intrust us with the knowledge of
aur children's fate ; had it not been divulged in con-
sequence of your birth, I should have remained totally
ignorant of Diganu." I inquired — " Do describe to
me the character of those two Priests as you now judga
them ? Are they living ?" Our mother answered —
"Your Father, Louise — her countenance, of which
she was probably not conscious, bespoke strong aver-
sion — was a cold-hearted, selfish villain, and an adept
in all wickedness. He regularly mumbled over his
masses, exacted his various fees and claims, indulged
his unholy appetites as he pleased, and possessed not
the smallest attachment to any thing in creation, ex-
cept the eraft by which he had his gain. As he lived
QBbeloved, so he died near two years aga unlamented,"

i*m

ttaml pa-
made for
t That
in atfceii-
\. Iwas
er. All!
i ever go
B beyond
uring my
1, that one
jft Tvithin
Ithough If

ed— " It is
(thing of it.
itter for a
idence, the
owledge of
red in con-
ined totally
describe to
1 now judge
inswered —
I, of whieh
strong aver-
nd an adept
led over his
as, indulged
lossessed not
creation, cx-
As he lived
mlamented.*'

i' -1

1 hastily observed^*' Dead ! do you say ? d4»atf in HH
gins ?" TberMe eontintted— ** He paeeed thniagh all
die foMiB and ceremoniee^ was absolved, anointed|
chattled cfVer, eulogized in the funeral oration, prais^ ,
ed in the newspaper, has a fine epitaph inscribed Otk
his tombstone, and a monument in the church ; and
is gone to his fathers, just as they preceded him, and
as the surviving ungodly Priests are successively follow-
ing him." I briefly inquired — " And Diganu's fathei ?"

" He is alive — said your Mother— a shrewd artfi:^
and complete Jesuit ; with all the principles of a re^
morseless, impeniient sinner, and with a deceitfulnesl^
which no ingenuity can explore or circumvent. Hiil
progress has constantly been onward to condemnation.
The only thins^ which has any appearance of good
that he ever performed has been his support of Diganu y
but that was merely to gratify his stronger passion.
His private history would unfold a wondrous tale. I
have not seen him during the last three years. When
I began to realize debility, 1 was deserted ; and as my
eyes were opened to perceive the evil of their doingVi
1 loathed the very sight of all the Pretres. This tem«
per nmduceil disputation. They denounced me as a
heretic^ and di^^carded me ; but as the Jesuit then
divulged hk opinions and doings, he appeared to itie fl
most irreligious and hardened transgressor. Tht
misery which he has entailed apon his female victitnl
to hint was an object of ridicule, and as ti6 his chiid«
fen, with the exception of Diganu, no peiteti can gtv^
any accoom of them. In his first rage^ after the biW*

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suhs were directed to be commenced, I dreaded from
^ menaces, that Diganu and Chretien would both
have been sacrificed !" I remarked — '* It v/as always
a subject of interest to us which we could never
unfold, how the discovery was made that 1 was resi*
ding with Diganu." ,. <

" I will explain that circumstance — replied Therese.
On the night after your escape, one ot the Priest's pa-
rishioners arrived in the city, and uifornied him of the
fire. He instantly acquainted me with the vexatious
occurrence. For the injury to his turnituie aitd books
he cared not; his anxiety was concerning your secu-
rity : respecting which he dared not to inquire. On
the next morning he hurried to his residence, and col-
lected all the information which he could obtain ; but
he could discover no trace either of you or of his mo-
ney. He did not suppose that you had taken it- Af-
ter along and fruitless research, it was concluded, that
the fire had originated in Guise's imprudence ; that
you had escaped unobserved in the confusion ; and
that some persons had obtained possesion of the gold
and silver, who carefully secreted the treasure '' I
again asked — " Did the Pretre continue his inquiries,
and thus make the discovery ? or by what means was
my actual existence and place of abode at last ascertain-
ed?" Therese tremulously answered — "I always endea-
vored to persuade him that you were dead ; and to my
shame, with regret I confess, that I delighted in the
thought that you had perished. I argued that it was
Utterly impossible you could survive exposure in the

■ (•'*^>t™t^'J'fc'B^

rf;»r

di3

night' in the open air, and that it was most prolMbte
you had been drowned, as you could not know an^
route from that parish. He resisted those ideas, and
maintained that you were too squeamish to die of your
own accord : nevertheless, he was perplexed. Guise
declared, that as soon as they saw the fire, the people ait
the dance started with all rapidity; that when she
ai rived, the flames had made but little progress; that
the persons who broke open the doors of the house
mentioned nothing, except that the fire seemed to have
begun with the t^tove pipe, and that she tried to find
Louise in vain. Every investigation was made, but
no information was elicited ; and the men were unani-
mous, that all the doors were forcibly entered, and that
except the fire, every thing in the house was just as if
the Pretre had been at home. For once the Jesuit was
bafiled, and might have continued so until the end, had
he not practised one of his wiles. He engaged ail the
Priests to make his money the subject of search at con-
fession ; and finally authorized them to offer the fuH
possession of the whole property taken from him, and
a perfect release from the civil law, with the absolution
of the Church, to all persons who would give any in-
fermation respecting the origin of the fire. Had'
Biganu or Chretien associated with the Priests, or gone
to confession as before,' they would have henrd of it ;
although neither of them were suspected as being ac*-
qtiainted with any of the circumstances ; for the Pretre
had seen Dignnu on the morning of the day itrheil-
Ihey rescued you. Several months had dlapsed afte^

fht Jesait's crafty contrivance veas put in operaUon^^

18*

«-•. L

i:v n * .»*»f ''- *— ■t»'**^*-i ft^^i' ■^^*''

314

wboo he visited me, and stated, that he had received an
anonymous account of Louise's flight. * Is she alive or
dead?' was my inquiry. ' 1 cannot tell — he answered —
read this letter : 1 will see you to-morrow, then we wiU
decide what shall be done. The hand-writing was
obviously disguised ; although I am now convinced^
that the letter was sent by one of your deliverers. It
was doubtless written only to upbraid and tantalize the
Pretre." I hastily asked our mother i his question —
*' Before we read that letter — for she had safely preser*
ved it — do tell mo, Thereae ; were you my companion
to the Priest's house, as well as to Jacques Carlier ?
for I could never satisfy my mind upon that subject V*
Therese replied — " O ! horrible recollection ; yes it was
I who thus betrayed my own innocent lamb to that ta>
vening wolf." I further inquired — " How is it possi-
ble you could so disguise yourself, thai I should not be
able to recognize either your personal appearance or
your voice V* With the deepest emotion, Therese an-
swered — " Ah ! my dear Louise ; you know nothing,
and well it is thi\t you are ignorant of these devices. I
shall not relate a Jesuit's and a Nun's tricks : but every
species of concealment they can and do assume to
execute their mischievous purposes. When I have
been alone, tortured with bodily pain, dbmayed with
inexpressible anguish, and all my sins have stared me
in the face in their aggravated criminality, my two
journies with you, in connection with the dreadful ca-
tastrophe at Lorette, have always appeared to include
the utmost barbarity and wickedness, which human
depravity can ponibly combine. Comfiuri me onoft

■' »

^ ■

" . .V*f fH Vr i^.tMi^'W.'l''^ -

• — 'ifiaBteF""

tA<«(i ■i-i^Vm>..M/lt

i /

-rr--

:>-»

• 215

more, Louise, with the assurance of your pardon!'*
She paused and tr^'nlbled. " I have already often as-
sured you, my dear mother — was my reply — that I
have heartily forgiven all your offences against nie y
and I trust that the God of mercy has also blotted'
them OU4 of the book of his remembrance, and granted
you the remission of sin. Whatever I may judge of
the transgression, and of your instigator, I think, from
your detail, that your condition at that period was not
lesH pitiable than odious." She pathetically answer-
ed — " Blessed be God ! that I can now venture to re-
view those terrific, scenes without that harrowing tor-
ment which formerly accompanied the remembrance :
and although I abhor myself and my wa>s, yei 1 cao
exerciije an humble trust in the efficacy of the Redeem*
er's pardoning grace, and I can feebly hope that I
have experienced the application of the blood of Christ
which cleanseth from all sin '* I subjoined — "1 am con-
vinced that it is this confidence on your behalf which
has enabled me to hear your narrative with so little ^
perturbation ; that it is not only exemption from dan-
ger and gratitude for deliverance, but also the consola-
tion of believing that your transgression is forgiven,
and that your sin is covered. So that, however repul .
eive it is to survey past deformity, the sting of sin ir
extracted ; and aduitional penitence, humility, faith
and devotion are enkindled by the painful conterapla*/
lions." The weeping Therese replied — " I think I have >
found this effect latterly produced in my own mind.
On former occasions, when I meditated upon the counei
%bich I have parsuedil was overwhelmed with agony i

i 1

\ ■

..^-WAiJMIBr-.-^'

316 li

fitit it was not united with melting. My feelings wer«
the disUke and unsubdued will of the guilty delinqueBt,
not the tender-hearted and sorrowful aversion ^f the
lepenting sinner. I was humbled for my wretched-
ness, not for ray transgressions. I believed, but it was
the agonizing convictions of coerced alarm, not the
lowly apprehensions of a filial trust ; and 1 cried, but
it was a desire to escape from present pain and anticipa*
ted wo ] not the prayer for wisdom, holiness, resigna-
tion, and < 'hristian peace." I answered — " It is very
consolatory to nie, Tlierese, to witness this gracioue
transformation in your feelings and views of yourself
and of I )ivine trulii." Therese tenderly added — " By
the Divine blessing, Louise, 1 owe to you all that I
savingly Isnuw, experience, and hope ; and can only
pray that you may be abundantly rewarded for your
work of faith and labor ol love, according to the Re*
deemer's promise !" My reply was — •." Let me read the
letter. I am anxious to understand the mysterious
occurrence which ferreted me out of my seclusion."

'^.

To Mr. 1), Pretre.

"You are taking much trouble to find out the circum*
stances connected with the fire in your house; and
have offered that the money which you say was lost
in your house may be retained by any person who se-
•oreted it, provided only you can be fully infOTmed con»
earning that event. But why did you never inquire
'After the girl yon had imprisoned there ? Now if ever
l^hear of any more search being made after the caeh> t
^itt publish the story about Louise." ° - --^'^^

-;f'

*••

"''*^"'*.:t- ^■»-*-

*.-:r..::-:.JS!cr.r-?!v^-,v-^

■■■ (>

ngswert

linqueat,

Q ^f the

f retched-

lut k was

not the

ried, but

aDticipa*

resigna-

It is very

graciouB

yourself

id—" By

lU that I

:an only

for your

the Re*

e read the

lysteriouc

Bion."

e cu'cum*
ase ; and
was lost
n whose-
■med con-
inquire ^
w if ever
[le cash) 1

::M

2ir

"What did the Priest say to that threat ?— I askei
—did he manifest no uneasiness at the proposed dis-
closure ?" Therese replied—" Not at ail ; the Jesuit
only smiled with contempt. * Silly fool ! — said the
Pretre — his talc would necessarily unfold the robbery ;
and as he would be hanged, no person would believe
one syllable which he uttered. Besides, the men who
first opened the doors, would testify that no person was
in the house, and Guise will swear to any thing, which
she is taught.' But I answered — * Suppose more than
•ne person should have been concerned in the affair,
how will that affect the point ? The Priest remarked,
* They dare not tell the story for their own sakes ; yet
1 should rejoice to discover this insolent fellow.' But
goon." I continued to read the letter. " As you seem
so very desirous to learn something of the matter ; I
will tell you what I have heard about it, some time ago^
in Montreal. The man who related the circumstance,
mentioned neither time, nor names, nor place ; but
from the questions which have been asked by the Cure
•four parish, it must be the same affair, and well may
you be willing to give up the hush money. All that
rejoices me is that the good girl escaped from your

brutal clutches."

A smile passed over my countenance, and I iaquired
of Therese — "Howdid the Pretre receive thatsarcasm ?"
Oirf mother replied — " He swore most furiously ; and
declared, that he would find out whether you were dead
or alive. 1 endeavofed in v&in to turn away his atten-'
tion from the unholy and as I thought fruitless search.

j^^J^pJ;-;^ ;^trRfint yjv.) •*■■■ - •-?.*'

;j»5J3P?!l»>5^-j--' ■.;■ 1

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- xe*-«.»*M*.i**KRAi<*h< ' .

••I I m«

liii.

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I-, "■'■

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But Providence in a most mysterious manner, hae or-
dered all our affairs for the best."

I proceeded in my perusal. " You will never know
who were the chief actors in that affair ; but three
young men travelling stopped at your parish chuich
during mass. Your journey toCluebec was talked of^
and the dance at night. It was also mentioned that
an old jilt, who was left in charge of your house would
be at the frolic ; and as the Prelres always have a plenty
of money in their possession. The travellers arranged
their plan, watched the woman's departure, and them-
selves at a late hour left the habitant's house at which
they had been staying, under the pretext of joining the
dance ; where, however, thty remained but a shofi
time. At three o'clock they left the frolic unobserved.
Having entered your house, they were frightened a(
the sight, as they thought, of the old woman, whom
they had left at the dance asleep ! but they instantly
discovered that it was a young female preparing to es-
cape from the window. She made known her wretch-
ed situation ; and so to spoil such a coquin's tricks, the
strangers seized your money, invited Louise to accom-
pany them, set fire to the house, gave the alarm, and
unperceived by any person drove away, amid the shouts
and uproar of the party hutrying from the dance.
They left the girl the next evening, and can never hear
of her since ; so that you have Louise's death to nn-
swer for ; and remember, some more of Us are ready to
take a peep into your upper aparlnientS) and look at
your secret proceedings." „ i^, vi^piiio*:

■4/'

I t

■M

219

^hwor-

rer know

)Ut three

^1 chuich

talked of;

oned that

,u8e would

ve a plenty

rearranged

,andthem-

,e at which
joining the
but a short

I unobserved.

rightened al

man, whom

ley instantly
paring toes-

IV her wretch-

Ill's tricks, the
lise to accoin-
le alarm, and
mid the shouts
m the dunce,
can never heal
9 death to an-
us are ready to
ts, and look at

» « •*

" How did the Pretre like this menace ?" I asked.
Therse answered — " He was so intimidated, that for a
long time he was never known to be absent at night,
unless he could engage some of his parishioners to re-
main as a guard." I again inquired — "How did he
act upon this information V* Therese informed me in
reply — " Immediately after the reception of this letter,
the Jesuit started all his confreres upon the Rcent, for they
are a confederated pack ; but the pursuit was unavail-
ing. Every hope of attaining any knowledge of you
was nearly abandoned, when the cure of Lorette stated,
that he had heard some intelligence of a strange girl,
who was sick at that village, about the very time of
the fire. The stupid squaws however had either forgot-
ten or could give no precise account of the fact. With
great difficulty, the Surgeon was finally identified.
By a large bribe, he was induced to unite in the search.
When it was ascertained that you had clandestinely left
your lodgings, I desired that all further inquiries should
terminate, as it would only involve Diganu and Chretien
in perplexity." I asked — " Why was your opinion not
adopted?" Therese remarked — " You cannot form any
idea of the craftiness and pertinacity of a Jesuit Priest in
persevering to fulfil that which he has once undertak-
en. The Pretre cursed most dreadfully, and declared
that nothing should satisfy him until he had obtained
undeniable evidence of your death ; and that he would
obtain possession of you if you could be found : and be
remarked with an expressive tone and look, 'you know,
Therese, wecannot be deceived.'" I interposed — " That
reminds me of a query which I have often wished to

k-^':

1-.

' ^Jl iBPftGI' *"

{

(

'.^'

.. H

■x

! . >:

020

^nbid noon W«*"**

twoPrieaU, that you *»^^ ^.y „as the first lett«

Vathe,c<»W not have beenaep^n^^-^^^ p .^ 4

Jdwhat a m»WP»'«*r*rer»„acknowledged *.ld.

Uns adopt .» recogmze theu » ^^ ^^^,, i„ i„fo„cy.V

len, if they are spared a P'*" -vetoes bo exacUy

rrep«ea-"Th« ='?^\°^.,^t.»vinced »ethat we

« Jar to my <>«» '^^^^.^er could vie« h.m m 'h«
should not be .named 1 »* cotmnued-" V«»

relaliou of a husband. in j o other

ZataUon was dreadful ^^J^f jivulgiog to yo«
^« <=""*" "* ''I^rcf^ -pecting the mann«
fethet the prior "'f "*""7had l^oome acquainted
to which you and D.g«nu h ^^gj,

,„d even the »''»''' ^''t^llposure of that peculiar

'effrontery fc'*? -!!iCc S have heen m»t»^>y
iniquity." I added- ".j, have been calmed m a

Zm ; '^"O '^S""" luon of the fact, that ^e are
Imentby the demon^t^n^of ^^„„U«j_« True i

maternally related." Our mo ^^^ j^^^,^ ^,k

1 but ray dear Uu«e ! V^^^ i„ ,„,! vigor, as soou

«d design upon JO" ^ ';^':^^ht probably be reeov-
• as he ascertained, that y<«' J.. Thanks be to God«

: ed." I suddenly ey^Uted ^^^^^ ^^ ^^, j

»y ^-"^ ""':^Urd wl on my side, and my help

1'-

h-.

• I

E)iganu
loideD'

it is ^«-
1 of the
lb ibeir
rat letter
nd your

wonder-
iests and
ged child-
'infancy."
o exactly
e that we
him in the
^_« Your

Jo other
,g to your
he manner
acquainted,
Bs sufficient
hat peculiar
en mutually

calmed in a

that we arc
ed— "True;
Jesuit's wick-
vigor, as soott
tbly be recov-
9 be to God '.
areofthefow-

and my ^«^P

v;«t

291 t

was in the name of the Lord who made heaven and
earth.' But proceed with your narrative."

* • ■ 1.J1 "Ml.-

"" Therese thus continued. " The first communica-
tion which pleased the Priest, was the Surgeon's state-
ment, that the female servant whom Diganu kept was
never seen out of the house. From this fact, the wily
Jesuit observed that there wan cause for more minute
inquiry. The Surgeon, however, and the woman with
whom you had reisided, both avowed that you were not
the girl who had been sick at Lorette." I remarked —
"I do not \Vonder at their being deceived ; for I always
dressed so uncouthly that no person could easily have re-
cognized me." Therese continued — " Diganu's Father
and the Surgeon were outwitted at their interview with
the young men. Their ihimovahle firmness, their un-
concern at the Priest's details, and their imperturbable
composure when his parting menace was pronounied,
disconcerted him, and the Pretre's ingenuity was com-
pletely frustrated. Every t hing might h|ive passed un-
heeded, had your appointed marriage been deferred, or
had any other place been selected for the ceremony.
But as soon as the Cure of Lorette heard Diganu'e
name mentioned as the bridegroom, the circumstance
was communicated to his Father. The Jesuit, without
hesitation, affirmed that tl»e choice of Lorette for the
marriage was a proof of some peculiar cause, and in-
stantly avowed his conviction that you were the pro-
posed wife. The squaw was therefore directed to visit
you ; and although rather incoherent, her account ren-
dered immediate measures indispensable. Your Fa*

■■■/■'..' '■.?^.
.-■■-■ . -t -

'9^\

'*4i*-:***<*«

ther was sent for to meet ue at Lorette. He was mere-
ly informed that some time before you had eloped from
our care. Jhe heresy which you had imbibed from
Marguerite was alleged as the cause. It was alfo
stated, that you had been traced to Diganu's house, and
that you were engaged I o be married ; that a separa- ■
lion wae unavoidable ; and to conceal our mutual
secrets, he consented to the plan which was executed.
Your dress betrayed you ; for the Jesuit and Guise
both recognized it upon your entrance into the church.
Of the four in the conveyance in which you were
driven to the General Hospital, your Father was the
most callous. He swore, that it would be preferable
to permit your marriage. " They are not related at all,
according to the law of the church—he said— neither of
them can have any Father or Mother, because a Priest
or a Nun cannot be a parent ; and at all events, a
dispensation can be obtained from the Bishop ; and
then we shall be no more plagued with them. If Louise
will not be a Nun and do like her mother, let her live
with Diganu, married or single as they please." His
scheme would have been assented to at first, for he
proposed it before we meet in the church, had not
Diganu's Father resisted the proposition. He could not
brook that bitter disappointment : so with true Jesuit
grimace he descanted upon illegal marriages; and
your Father feeling neither for you nor Diganu more
than he did for his brother Priest and me, agreed to
those violent measures which were adopted." I asked
Therese — " Can you inform me why I was released
from the insane apartment and transfered fo Mon-
treal?'*

'-:■"» J'

1, '^

;:a*£fiffiass

^rm^^^

^ f

2ad

dfrom
as aV»
ise, and
gepara-

xccuted.
d Ouiee
5 church,
ou vere
was the
preferahle

ated at aM>
-neither of
,se a Priest
I events, a

ishop-, and
, If Louise

let her live
ease." .His
first, for he
ch, had not
He could not
h true 3e8uit
irriages; and
Diganu more
ne, agreed to

led." 1 as*^®°
was released

fered to Men-

1.>..V I. . . ** ^-+

^ "The intervteti^ which Diganu and Chretien had
With tM Bishop ^replied Therese—perplexed us;
although the Cure of Lorette had stated the circuni-
stancos to him, in such a manner, as to exonerate the
Priests, and to criraioiite your brother and hi8 friends.
Nevertheiew, the Bishop perceived that the complai-
nants wer^ not intimidated by his menaces. He saw
in them a cooi spirit of resolute defiance ; and us the
consequences might atfect the priestcraft, he deemed it
necessary more minutely to examine the subject The
Cure of Lorette was ordered to attend ; and in recoun-
ting the 'threats which Rohoiruic addrest^ed to him ;
the Cure expressed his fears, from the number of wit-
nesses who were present,some of whom were unknown
except to Diganu and Chretien and the lawyer, and
therefore could not be secretly removed, that a judi-
cial investigation would be attended with serious injury
to their order j and recommended that the Bishop
should interpose his authority, so as to quash those de
nounced proceedings at law, which would terminate in
tlie conviction and disgrace of the assailants, 'i he
two Priests were therefore directed to meet at the
Bishop's palace ; and at first he highly censured them
for their doings. However they speedily pacified their
superior's pretended wrath, by assuring him that the
Nun who was concerned was his own daughter. He
immediately visited me in the Convent, and having
examined me for the mark of recognition — here our
Mother shewed me the sign which had Imen stamped
by his order — the Bishop acknowledged that I was hie
child. He also stated that my Mother had been Supe-

'M^

f^d:

':'XiBSf^nmsnaiMtHa,

r "

3S4

f ieure of the General Hospital, but many years before
had died. The Jesuit afterwards told nie that he had
been informed of my relation to the Bishop by the Su-
pericure herself; and unlcnuwn to nie, had been as-
sored pf the truth of iier etatenient, through having
seen the inark which she had described. This deve-
lopment changed our affairs, as ii placed fjyery one ot
the parlies in a new relation. Tlie Bi'tihop directed
that the storm should be uppt'ased by an unqualitied
assent to all the lawyer's propotiHUiib ; I ut (his was
not done, until i hud explained the t^ulject to my
Father at cDufession ; expressly ihat as a Priest, under
the seal of that secrecy which the ceremony im^toses,
he might know all the complicated events connected
with you and your brother. He accordingly adapted
his measures to the crisis ; and being pleased with the
character of I)iganu ai.d ( hreiien, he c* nimanded
that every requisition which Rohoirsic made to pacify
the young men who had so nobly acted should be
complied with, if they did not unldld the comiectica
between the Priests and Nuns. The ctMiditions in re-
spect to yourself were the lawyer's spontaneous de-
mand — but that Rohcrtrsic should be convinced, that
you both were my children was an e6»«ieiitial point with
Diganu. Upon this assurance, he has i^ubmitted to his
deprivation with as much fortitude as he tan culti-
vato 1 rejoice in what he is, and in what I hope, we
shall be, at our meeting in the invisible world. From
the proofs given to Rohoirsic, with the exception of my
relation to the Bishop, 1 have no doubt that he under-
stands the whole secret.'^ "Where did you chiefly

-iv'W^*»*»**,«i«**"'i''HV' '• ti", r*

M V

' I

".)

925

xu before
It he had
y ihe Su-
been as-
•b having
I bis t\eve-
rery one ot
,p directed
unquHlified
xi iV»is was
ject to my
>iiest5 under
juy in»lH)se8,
ts com»ected
,jg\y adapted
ysti\ with the

c« lumanded
.ade U) pacify
ed should be
rje comiectica
iidiiions in fe
lontaneous de-
onviuced, that
uiial point v/itU
s.ubii»ittedU)his
s he can culti-
vbat I hope, we
eWorld. F»om
exception of my
i that he under-

^ you chiefly

reside — ^I asked — since our separation at the General
Hospital?" Therese answered — ^' I remained in Que*
kec about four years, and you were continually near
me ; but you never saw me. After that period, I re-
quested the Bishop to permit me to reside at Point aux
Trembles ; and there I first began to reflect upon my*

#pil^>, It originated partly in the great difference of
character and temper between myself and one of my

.; associates of nearly my own age. I suspect that she
was just such a Nun as yon would have been : unsus>
picious but reserved, and an unsciiitinizing devotee, in
whom confidence could be reposed for any thing good ;
the specimen of a Convent for show, necessary to be
kept for display and ornament. I believe that she was
as ignorant of the true nature of a Nunnery as a per-
son who has never heard of monastic life. She was
remarkably placid and lowly, and pursued the ordinary
routine not less mechanically than an automaton. We
often conversed together, and I was surprised at her
real or affected innocence ; but as I felt no inclination
to disturb her in her course, I reflected upon her pecu-
liar qualities, and at length concluded tliat her even
and useless life was preferable to my own restless and
tormenting passions. It is now nearly four years since
I began to experience unequivocal symptoms of feeble-
ness. Confinement and seclusion occasionally fol-
lowed ; and in solitude, my conscience thundered its
denunciations against my heinous crime?. The first
effect was ray dissatisfaction with the Priests. I felt
that my whole life was disgusting, that I was charge-
able with having done no good, and thai the accpun^

17'

?.:^^,^v

■■ist>'''

, ■'■■<»■

-9 ->S

■kit'

K.- fc**^TMHJwn^Efcii]tta a;^

'»Ali.^...*

■ » ' iii mn

ms»

„1ii3WWBas-*¥««.

■MM

226

was evil, only evil, continually. My nervous depres-
sions increased. These additionally alarmed my ima-
gination ; and acting upon a temper naturally cajH
iious and vehement and habituated to long uuruliness,
rendered me peevish and morose. The darkness of
my mind filled ine with disquietude, and 1 had no
comforter. I requested permission to return to Quebec.
To this the Bish p objected ; and during a visit which
he made me, he proposed that I should remove to
Montreal, with permission to correspond with Rohoirsic.
The two years which 1 passed in the old ISunnery in
Montreal were a period of almost unceasing pain both
in mind and body, without any alleviation. Scorned,
detested and slighted like yourself, but without your
interior comforts, and agonized with variety of grief, it
was a time of most tormenting fe^r. The Pretrea I
abhorred, their doctrines 1 disbelieved, their mum^nery
I despised; and their excomnmnication 1 scorned.
With inexpressible disquietude I was revolving my
situation, when a sudden thought rut'hed into my
mind to have you for my companion." 1 remarked —
" That impression upon your mind must have proceed-
ed from Divine influence ; and is another proof upon
what fleeting thoughts and apparently trifling events,
the most important consequences depend." Therese
answered — " So I have latterly considered it. That
impression was the gate to the path of the just for me
to walk in to the endless day. But O! what did I
feel I shame, disgrace, remorse and even horror! then
I desired your forgiveness, hoped for your sympathy,
longed for kiw)wledge, and lealized an indefinable anx

-mi

j»i,»«.9mfiiir'^t

237

■**,

depres-
my iina-

lUy ca^
iruliness,

rkness of

I had no
,Gl»»ebeo.
isit wbich
remove to
Bohoiisic
iunnevy in
p pain both
Scorned,
thcut your
, of grief, it
le Pretres I
r mum nery
, 1 scorned,
jvolving my
led into my
L remarked —
have proceed-
;t proof upon
rifling events,
id." Therese
.red it. Thai
the just for me
)t what did I
n horror! then
^our sympathy,
ndcfinableanx

iely for something or any thing whicli might calm tlie
tempestuous ragings of my soul. Nothing upon earth
could make me more debased ; and I was solicitous
to hear you say that you pardoned my unnatural
wickedness Like Job, I was full of tossings to and
fro ; yet Ihe wish for your company ittrengthened, and I
wrote my first letter to Rohoirsic, containing my request.
He saw in the plan an eligible mode to release you
fmm your vexations, and received to effect it. His
inflexible obstinacy aUme conquered. He has acted
with so much honpr, that while the Jesuits hate him
for his acquaintance with all their detestable manoeu-
vres, they implicitly confide in him in reference to our
affairs. My father having died soon after my removal
to Montreal, the present Bishop opposed the scheme.
Rohoirsic insisted, and at length, Diganu's father rep-
resented that it was of no importance. * Therese and
Louise — said the Prie«t — are incorrigible and accjjrsed
heretics. They cannot long feurvive; let them live
togetlier and quarrel till they are dead." His unquench-
able malignity, through Divine compassion, has been
disappointed . We are both unknown at Three Rivers.
J therefore selected this place as our residence. The
lawyer undertook to persuade you to accede to the ar-
rangement ; and here we are in peace. ' What shall
I render unto the Lord for his benefits toward me. He
hath deliveired my soul from death, mine eyes from
tears, and my feet from falling !' — After a pause she
added — Do you remember any other particulars, Louise,
which you wish to have illustrated ? ' My reply was —
" No ; except that you will specify my age." Therese

).\

• 1

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I'V

228

i: ■

said-^*- You are now nearly thirty-one years oid ; a
martyr to the depravity of a Jesuit and a Nun — with
tearful emotion she presently added — how adorable, my
Louise, iathat goodness of God which can pardon the
monster mother who has murdered such virtuous love-
liness ?" As soon as 1 could speak, I subjoined—" l«ct
this reflection and all its connected topics henceforth
sleep with your father and my father in grave-hke
oblivion. We can find ample subjects for discussion
in our present experience and future anticipations.
As the Apostle Paul has set us the example ; ' let us
forget those things which are behind, «nd reach forth
unto those things which are before." Your mother
very tenderly replied — " How kind, my dear Louise!
it shall be as you desire. The past henceforth shall be
only subjects for penitence and my private meditation.
It shall be my endeavor to look to Jesus, ' that I may
know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the
fellowship of his sufferings." From that day, with the
exception of yourself and Chretien, no extraneous mat-
ters, my dear Diganu, attracted our attention ; I trust
in the best sense, ' the world was crucified unto us, and
we unto the wwld.' . -

Louise thus narrated the closing part of Therese*6
earthly pilgrimage. — I had hoped, as the spring would
afford us opportunity of being in the air, that Therese's
strength might be partially restored. We had become
endeared to each other as Christian friends, and our
daily communion sanctified and cemented our attach-
ooent. But I was disappointed. She declined very per>

]■■.

mmms&\

■i

old ; a

able, my
.rdon the
I0U8 love-
— » Lei
lenceforth
orrave-like
discussion
icipations.
e ; ' let us
•each forth
»ur mothei
■ar Louise '.
rth shall be
meditation,
that I may
ion, and the
ay, with the
aneous mat-
lion ; I trust
unto us, and

of Therese*6
spring would
hat Therese's
e had become
ends, and our
3d our attach-
:lined very per-

329

ceptibly, until I thought it my duty to inform the
slawyer of her situation. Rohoirsic visited us, received
her beaedictiou for you, acct^pted her gratitude, and
promised to fulfil her requests. She then seemed to
have discarded all connection with this world except
myself. The revolving weeks only witnessed her in-
creasing solicitude that she ni^hi not be deceived at
last ; that she might not he deserted by the Lord in
the valley of the shadow of death ; and thutshe might
enjoy the huml)lest part in the immortal sungsot the
redeemed. Sometimes she appeared to dread the ap-
proaching, separation from the body; while at others,
•he would speak of it with \ rembling hope. 1 was how-
ever gratified to know, that I er apprehent^ions of the
spirituality of God's law became more inicni^e. Hei pe-
titions aino were nu>t-e fervid for the acct piahle qualities
wrought in the soul by Divine grace ; and lier anxie-
ties to be blessed with the good hope that purifieth the
heart steadily increased. Therese imbiUed with gree-
diness al: that knowledge which enlarged her views of
spiritual things, especially in their searchiiig<>perutious
upon her own conscience ; and she would often pro-
nounce her emphatic assent to the Scriptures and
other books. u ' v ^^j. hk^-%\ % \ '„

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A year had nearly elapsed fiom our first interview,
when Therese manifested symptoms of speedy dissolu-
tion. She was composed and equable ; and her whole
attention was absorbed by the rromenlous question :
* Am I in ( /hrist Jesus V Divine mercy exempted her
from unusual depression ; and her own contrition avd

. !

230

..r

)x^

humility precluded any strtng ^ings of elevatiofi.
" I feel myself — our mother on one occasion remark-
ed — in a situation something like Peter's when he was
in the sea. He saw his perilous and helpless state ;
he believed the power and mercy of Jesus ; and cried,
Lord,save nie ! This, Louise, is ray abiding experience.
I behold my presumptuoiin sin^, my blood-guiltiness,
and my great transgressions ; and I can only look to
the infinite compassions of him ' who is able to save to
the uttermost,' through the ever living Intercessor.
f therefore consuintly pray, ' deliver me, < > God, thou
God of my salvatiini !* My reply was — " No doubt,
Therese, the Lont has heard your voice and your sup-
plication : and 1 also have often prayed for you, that
you may experience, like Peter, the truth of the lA)rd's
mediation; and that in the tryiig scene, your faith
may not fail." Of herself she spoke but little except in
the form of ejaculatory supplication ; but her language
evinced a heart deeply impressed with all the living
realities of the world to come. She often uttered ques-
tions, the result no doubt of her previous meditation —
'Where shall I go? what shall I be ? what shall I do?
whom shall I see ? what shall I say ? how shall 1 live?
am I ready for the change V - Then she would request
me to read to her those verses of Scriptuie which de-
scribe the future state in its characters, inhabitautb and
employments, with the pre-requisites which the Lord
claims as necessary to an admission into his Father's
house of many mansions. Sometimes she woUld speak
with tolerable confidence; and after hearing a paragraph
which enumerates the fruits of the spirit as evidences

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231

elevatiot.

I temark-
en he was
[ess state ;
and cried,
sxperience.
.guiltiness,
ily look to
J U) save l»
Intercessor.

God, thou
■<■ No doubt,
id your sup-
jr you, that
of iheliord's
your faith
tie except in
her language

II the living
uttered ques-
nieditation—
,at shall Idol
w shall! live?
would request
,ie which de-
ihabitautb and
bich the Lord
) his Father's
he would speak
ing a paragraph
it as evidences

i
-I

«<ii

of the work of grace, she would add — ' well, I think,
I have attained a little of that quality' — and when re-
viewing the causes of exclusion from the kingdom of
heaven, she would remark — ' Blessed be God ! I think
I am cleansed from that stain.' But generally her
comfort was restricted to the hope, that she had unfeign-
edly repented of her sins, and that with sincere de
sire she was 'looking for the mercy of the Lord .Tesus
Christ unto eternal life." ..

:ir

'h-

For several days before her departure, Therese con
tinued in mych stupor. Our intercourse was short and
unfrequent ; but her feoble expressions developed more
confidence. On the last day of her life, the Superieurc
propos d that the Chaplain should be admitted. I ob-
jeoted; as it v' jiated nil my religious principles ; but ex-
pressed my willingness that the Superieure should hint
her wish to the dying penitent. During her next sen-;
sible interval, the head of the Convent proffered the at-
tendance of the Priest to administer the Inst ofBces of
his Church. With long pauses as her feebleness per-
mitted, Therese observed — " I am greatly indebted
and thankful to you, Madame, for all your kindness to
me and Louise, since we have been residents here ; but
this offer I cannot accept. I wish to give you ray dy-
ing testimony. After a long acquaintance with your
religion, I am convinced that it is a gross imposition
upon mankind^,; It is not le!>s impious and absurd in
doctrine, than practically immoral and wicked." The
Superieure uttered an Ave Mary, and crossed herself in
agitation. Therese continued — " I was educated in

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i «ti i jit| i Hi!i!i i ! 'J wii lih

"^-'

) I .

your Church, have lived in (Convents, and for forty years
believed all that the Pretres taught, and did every thing
which they ordered me. My alienation from them
and their delumons commenced iu solitude, when I was
'made to possess monthsof vanity, and wearisome nights
were appointed unto me.' I know all their private
infidelity and vices, their Jesuitical finesse, their mas-
Querading characters, and their public impostures.**
The Superieure again trembled and crossed herself.
*' But I had no substitute for the evils which my con-
science rejected — added Therese. She took my hand —
Louise has taught me what I did not know. She has
(M)mmunicated to me instructions from the true word
of God ; and in its light, I trust that I have seen
the light.' I have discarded your Church. I loathe
all its commutations for iniquity, the claim to the
Divine prerogative to absolve from sin which the
Priests blasphemously assume, and the power which
they so iniquitously exercise over the hearts and con-
sciences of the silly deceived people, * laden with sins
and taken captive by them at their will' — and I abhor
as the source of all evil, the ruinous opinion which they
teach, that the everlasting condition of every individual
will be determined according to their appointment.
The injuries which they have done to me and Louisei
we heartily forgive ; and we also pray, that the Lord
9(i\\ have mercy upon you and upon them, and upon
the deceived multitudes whom as ' bhtid guides^ they
are leading into the ditch.' I am not now one of theit
disciples. To a Roman Priest, I will make no confeb*
eion. I abhor his pretended absolution, which he will

f- . '

.?«>■

i79tV* j: Jt^^^Kfflfff^f^P' '

'''"i****MI*'U-'

■i^i'M ■>»iM«(fVl|>l|

mas-

233

pronounce only for money or for his criminal gratifica-
tion ; atid which, as ihey often told me, depended upoQ
their intention ; but who can be certain of what
a Jesuit's designS) except probably by the rule of re-
verse ? As to their extreme unction, I am certam that
it is the invention of Siitan to smoot h the entrance to
eternal despair. 1 request therefore that I may be per-
mitted to depart inquietude, and not be discomposed
in my last mxnents ityarire which Christianity con-
demns. I am now in charity and peace with all man-
kind. My dear Louise ! do not permit the holy calm
Within to be ruffled." I replied — "The Superieure,
tny dear mother, has only performed her duty ; 1 dis-
approved of the measure ; and I rejoice that through
the expression of her wish, the Lord has enabled you
to declare your opinions." Therese continued — "I
have now done with the world, Louise ; and you will
soon follow me. That blessed book whiclkopeDcd mjr
blind eyes and healed my broken heart, will support
you during your short remaining stay on earth ; and [
trust that we shall again meet in that joy ful state, wher^
' the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are ait
rest.' Pray for me, while I can understand your peti-
tions and join with you in desire." 1 presumed that
the Superieure would have withdrawn ; but as she
had been directed to witness the manner of Therese'6
death, she remained by the bed. I breathed forth my
humble but sincere prayer for our dying mother, an4
for my beloved Diganu. Her amen was appended tt>
my supplications, as my emotions obliged me to pause j
especially when your welfare was the subject, and also

when I implored that she mif^t enjoy the hght of
Ood's countenance in the parting moment, and be
carried by angels into Abraham's bosom. The Su-
perieure was evidently affected. To her it was a
novelty incomprehensible, that a heretic wgaW pray to
God through Jchus Christ. As I arose from my knees,
Therese motioned to me to approach nearer to her ;
iind having kissed me, with a look of tender affection
she said — "My dear Louise, I hope all is well. I
t^dst that I have found acceptance in i Christ. May
God hear and answer your prayers, and may
you ever experience his grace, mercy and peace, until
we meet in the joys of heaven !" Having presented
the Superieure her adieu, she reclined her head in a
doze, occasionally interrupted by the motion of her lips,
wh'-^h, fruta the clasping of her hands, betokened
prayer. Her breath and pulse gradually became more
Ihint. Aftei* several hours, we distinctly perceived a
i^lacid smile overspreading her languid features ; she
Opened her eyes, and locked upon me. I took her
hand ; she feeUy returned the pressure — it was h^
Itot effort! presently my mother uttered — "I shall,
Iiooise,! shall"^ — and her spirit' returned to the God who
^ve it. Her corpse was removed by Rohoirsic's di-
lections ; and I was consoled by hearing, my dear
Brother, that you had attended ycor Mother's remains
ft " the house appointed for all living."

■J

■■.:*4^:-...

♦;

in 'Alii

DEATH OF LOUISE ^ v*

. • >, •■>;•■»

Death springs to lite : — -♦\'"»1*>»i U

Though brief and sad thy story* '' /l^

Thy years all spent in care and gloom, '"^p

Look up, look up !

Eternity and glory

Dawn through the portals of the tomb. '

V ni^fj

Louise thus finished her narrative. ''My dear
brother ! I have been employed for some time iu ez^
amiuingthe papers which record my experience since
oui separation ; and as I know not how soon .the mes-
senger may be despatched for you to witness my dis-
solution, while I have a little strength, I, will supply
all that is necessary for you fully to retrace my vary-
ing exercises.

" From the first sight of the cross on your bead so
exactly similar to my own, i always lelt as if we were
naturally related. When I assented to your proposal
of marriage, my feelings revolted, notwithstanding all
my affeciioo for you ; and something whispered within
me, you cannot be married. Nothing but the dread of
losing your protection and that of Chretien, and oi
being again separated and exposed to my former dan-
gers, induced my involuntary acquiescence. It is im-
possible to ezplaiQ te you the unceasing perplexity in

;»lar?:':

»Cr-

836

which I passed my nights and days. Every one of
thoM incideute which alarmed w urged me nearer to
you as the only alternative of escape ; while every feel-
ing of my heart repelled the idea of a matrimonial con-
nection. The only point on v i.ich I never wavered,
was respecting the perfornianceof the nuptial ceremony
at Lorette. A deep-rooted prepossefoion, for which I
never could account was fixed in my heart, thnt as there
we first became acquainted, so there it »ihuuld termi-
nate or be sealed for ever. Therese intimated, that a
delay izt the time and a change in the place would have
overcome all the diflicuUies ; but thiu was an incorrect
impression which the deceitful Prelre had given her;
for he iiiformed me, alfhough it might have involved
' more trouble, that the result woukl have been the same.
You and Chretien were so closely and incessantly
watched, that you could not have left Quebec without
being pursued ; and be also assured nie with the ut-
most sang-froid, that your lives if necesnary woidd have
been forfeited, rather than you should have escaped to
publish the fact of my abduction. *' Nothing is more
easy — said the Jesuit, n^ ith a petrifying look of malig-
nant obduracy, which 1 shall ever recollect — and they
would have been remembered only with abhorrence."
Every Priest was instructed how to act in case two
young men named Digaiiuand Chretien ofiisred them-
selves for marriage ; so that I am now convinced, the
melancholy affair was ordered in wisdom and mercy.
Through your means I v\ as ' elivered your mother
converted, and a peaceful seclusion is secured to me
as long as I am a sojourner in this vale of tears.

-"^m^mm-

937

To Rohoirsic, under God, I am indebted for all the
alleviationaof my trialn during my retiideiicn in Cluebec.
I cannot describe to you his agitation, while I narrated
my doleful tale. He delicately requested me to evade
any facts which it would pain me to diBclose ; and
manifested great satisfaction at the recital of my escape ;
but resolutely pronounced \\\* indignation. Pear not,
Louise ; — he said, at the close of my narrative — as far
as is consistent with the personal safety of Diganu and
Chretien, you shall have redress. They cannot alle-
viate your sorrow — I can ; and be assured, in spite of
•11 the power, artifices, and malevolence o^ every Je-
suit in (vanada, I will be your friend uiid protector,
or some other person fhall fill that office, as long ns you.
live.' We separated. His promise was a reviving cor-
<|ial ; the benefits of which I have enjoyed during ten
years, undiminished both in its sweets and plenteous-
ness.

,viri.t

" Notwithstanding all the servile duties which I was
obliged to perform, my spirits remained cheerful. I
lived upon the truth of the Divine word. 1 suppli-
cated for light to discern my spiritual way; and the
Hearer of prayer graciously condescended to apportion
my ability to my burden. The irregularities which I
witnessed only increased my aversion to sin. The
pretended arguments with which my principles were
assailed affected my mind no more than the green
withes which bound Samson's strength. The heartless
formality with which the Popish ceremonies were des-
patched, only confirmed my dislike Of (hat hollow

20*

«-»*<M«»—Jil....

• >5

238

impoeiDg exterior which concealed the real cbrruption.
Even the most vexatious of all their devices, the con-
tumely of the uninformed youth eventually produced
no other effect, than to keep me nearer the Lord,
whom I found to be ' my refuge and fortress, and whose
truth was my shield and buckler.' Yet there were
hours of overwhelming dreariness. I was not formed
for solitude, and the little of Christianity which I knew,
often rendered the want of communion with a fellow
pilgrim, a subject of almost undevuut murmur. When
I annually heard of you and Chretien ; of your exem-
plary characters ; of your steadfast adherence to your
principles, and of your prayers on my behalf, I have
frequently ejaculated— * O that I had wings like a
dove ! for then would I fly away and be at rest' with
you. Then after a tenjporary reverie,! would awake to
the consciousness of my confined cell, and feel an over-
powering restless aching void, which was only assua-
ged by the application of the gospel ; and with all
solicitude to realize its force, 1 would u(ter — * I will
say unto God, my rock, why hast thou forgotten me ?
why go I mourning because of the oppression of the
enemy ? why art thou cast down, O my soul 7 and
J why art thou disquieted within me ? Hope thou in God ;
^ for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of ray
„ countenance and my God." This calmed the tempest;
, and although I counted the interval to the New Year's
, day v\kh impatience ; yet when the transient interview
with the lawyer had terminated, it generally agitated
, xny heart for some days after; and it was the most
dif^riilt pf»r»ion of all the evangelical schooling which

"f^^

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-v^'

'.»t..

»■■

v^vis

I experienced, to acquiesce with the Lord's will. Di-
vine grace, however, at length enabled me to say, and
I think in the same resigned temper with which David
addressed Zadok ; ' here am 1, let him do to me as
seemedi good unto him.' I now understand the cause
of this gospel discipline. The Lord was gradually
preparing ray heart for the duties of that grateful office
which I was destined to execute. Had 1 known the
name of my proposed associate, it is probable that I should
have refused all solicitation ; but 1 had so long expe-
rienced* Rohoirsic's fi«lelity,that his word was law with
me. Then first I utiderstood that Christian obligation^
to do good for its own sake. Thanks be to God ! it
was effected ; and I can truly say, that in giving, I re-
ceived. Truly I was a novice in almost every thing,
and confinement in the Nunnery had not instructed
me. It was a mercy, therefore, that I witnessed your
Mother's last year. Death and sickness, except in my
own experienced debility, 1 had never seen ; for the
Nuns at Quebec excluded me from all intercourse, as
much as if I had been infected with the plague. At
Three Rivers I very impressively learnt how mortality
vanisheth away. In a most aifeuting example, I saw
how the Lord can adapt his mercy. Anxiously I be-
held every step in the pathway of righteousness trod-
den by Therese, from the city of destruction to the
river of death, until grace triumphed in glory. During
this whole scene, I was also deeply convinced of my
own increasing frailty ; but I had a companion. Her
ijtrong bursts of penitential anguish enlivened my own
oontrite feelings. Her occasional vehemence to take

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040

the kingdom of heaven by force quickened my own
sincere endeavors. Her aspirations of praise inspired
my gratitude ; and her closely scrutinizing application
of the Divine oracles, taught me the genuine charac-
ters of that spiritual raindedness which is Ufe and peace.
The jesson has been most salutary. Ot the soul's se-
paration from the body, my ideas were vague, incohe-
rent and without sensibility; now they are precise, de-
terminate, and animating. I have marked a penitent
sinner's ch^^nge; an emaciated Mother's conversion
to God ; and a humble, cautious, and apprehensive
believer, casting her hope as a sure and steadfast
* anchor within the veil, whither the Forerunner for us
is entered ;' and I rs.n retrace this whole (Christian
landscape of the narrow road, with all that 1 can in-
clude in the most joyful interpretation of the p-itient
Job's cheerfully resigned and peacefully confident lan-
guage. It expresses your Louise's feelings and solici-
tudes : ' all the days of my appointed time will I wait
till my change come.'

• " I was removed from Three Rivers almost immedi-
ately after the death of Therese. Rohoirsic visited me,
and stated that if I approved, 1 might return to Que-
bec to reside in private lodgings ; and that he had
agreed with Diganu's Father, that you, my brother,
should not be apprized of the fact until our final inter-
view, when I should be on the threshhold of eternity.
This delighted me, and the lawyer provided apart-
ments where almost daily I have seen you and Chretien.

' ■•:■ ^ I

-■•*«

^^fiiikiii-

I could have informed yoa of uotbini^ whkh these
papers will not communicate. lo my feeble condition,
frequent personal intercourse would only have agitated
our feelings unnecessarily, and opened your wounds
afresh without any balm to assuage the pain. It has
been a cordial to my spirits to behold you, and to pray
for my brother and his friend as you have passed along
the street, unconscious that your Louise was so near
you. Often have 1 rejoiced to hear your names asso-
ciated with every thing good. Always have I felt de-
lighted in (he a^Hurance that our mutual requests con
stantlji X > "qc! to the throne of grace ; and that we
shall met u. " .he New Jerusalem, around the throne of
God and of the Ljamb, with his name in our foreheads;
there to see his face, and serve him day and night in
his temple." .. ^ ,^ , ; ,. ^,

H'i^i"

^* My increasing debility urges me to seal the packet
of manu8cripts intended for your perusal. When you
read these papers, my dear Diganu, you will rejoice as
your Louise has rejoiced, and you will weep with those
who have wept. The anticipation of Paradise has
often supported me amid my severest earthly trials ;
and now in the nenring approach of dissolution, the
prospecttve reunion with our Mother and ypu and
Chretien, among ' the great multitude whom no man
can number, to stand before the throne and before the
Lamb, and sing salvation to our God/' so enraptures
my heart, that it leaves me nothing to desire, but to be
'clothed upon with our house which is from heaven,

MM*

» v

<:* 348 .../■^.

that mortality might be swallowed up of life : an4
being accepted, that we may be present with the LordP
Amen.

** Accept, my beloved Brother, the undyii^ love, and
the Christian benediction of your unchanged and faith-
fully affectionate sister.

' ' ^ ' - LouisB.

■v^

POSTCRIPT BY DIGANU.

" At the close of the year 17 — Rohoirsic visited us.
tie mentioned his airreenient with the Pretre, that in
the last period of her hfe, we should be admitted to the
presence of Louise ; made us acquainted with her remo-
val to Ctuebec, and also stated thut she had frequently
seen us. < I came to apprize you of these circiimc)tan-
ces — said our friend — and also to inform you that she
is now reduced so low, that you may prepare your
minds for the invitation to the closing scene of her mor-
tal existence."

After several days Rohoirsic again appeared, and
said-^" Louise has been much affected with the plea-
sing anticipation of meeting you. You will find her
extremely alt^ed in appearance, so that you would not
recognize her, except by her voice, and the cross. You
are nearly the same, — she says — as she identified you
both in the street, when you were first noticed by her.
Louise is at the portal of eternity; perfectly conscious, in
all her mental vigor ; and although she can speak but

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Httfe) ske w aoxioudto present you her last adieu.' He
retired ; and after ^ abort interval returned: * Come—
Baid our friend-^liouise is near death, but fully sensible,
and desirous to receive you/ ^^ , - >V:;,

Who can conceive what C fell, when on entering the
room, we saw instead of the once blooming and grace-
iui Louise, a pale skeleton ? She presented her haud —
' Let me look at your head' — even in its feebleness, it
was her own delightful, well-remembered voice. ' It
is Diganu' — she said ; and as she turned back her
hair with her cold, hand, 1 beheld the cross — ' My
Louise !' I could utter no more. We exchanged our
tenderest salutation. After a short silence, she beck'
oned to Chretien who also received the kiss of our dy-
ing protegee. When we had partially recovered our
feeliugs, she addressed me with great difficulty. ' My
Brother, here is a packet which I wished to deliver into
your own hands — she gave me the narrative of her ex-
perience — our friend wilt fulfil all my directions.' She
then presented her thanks to Rohoirsic for all his care
and kindness, and prayed that the Lord would reward
him a hundred fold ; and that he might inherit ever-
lasting life. As Chretien received her testimonial o(
affection, he thanked God thut he was permilted to
behold her in peace. ' Yes, Chretien — she replied—
your friend has no doubt of her eternal safety.*
She then addressed me "I sent fur you, my beloved
Brother, that we might once more unite our devotions
on earth. Pray for me and for yourselves ; and your
Louise will join in pleading with God on your behalf

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I attempted to comply. All I remember ia this ; that
what was defective in langiinge and manner was sup-
plied by feeling and sincerity. At theend of my pray*
er, she uttered her amen ; and after I had resumed my
station by her, sh6 faintly said — * Ail my worldly do*
sires and connections now are ended. God bless you,
my Brother !* she sunk into forgetfuluess, while re*
ctining OD my shoulder, but after some time ; Louiae
again opened her languid eyes, and gave me an ex-
pressive flflance ; then as she presently appeared to be
looking stedfastly upwards, my sister whispered to me
— ' Diganu, I see it. Lord Tesus ! I come.' — Her
eyes closed ; and she entered the rest that remaineth
to (he people of God. We interred Louise by the side
of her mother ; and (here I expiect to repose, in certain
hope of the resurrection of the just.

^ DiOANU.

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