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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. isssl* •. ■'•^ I ■ *'."if: , .PSMP. B9Si-^ iBB ■' -?iil>-:*'- i .*;*" If* ■ ': W ■■ ^ Iv. / '. . V ' l> > :-3i ; ^? 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. i* ■ ■ // m ] \ '.,: ■■•! T'V^^/: i i ■•.:'??i .■' .',>' ■' ■- ; ', "rur'. .• -!»',■ -i?' ,.*i:-l- ■"■■•M # -.*' ARTHUITTAPPAN: TBH tOLVUB IS XNSCBIBBD, AS A TRIBUTE OF RESPECT, I-, ^' >' .. FOR HIS 0HRI8TIAN FHILANTHBOFY AND ZBAL, IS ID the ON BSHALF OF THB "BLIND AND WRETCHED.' i'-. ij- 1 1 New York, S* M March, 1833. f ^9 w , r liO- ^^^R ^H^ .1 ^t« ...«. .■if'--- , ( ' '* , / "• 1 . «■! # M.J % V. "««;■ •W' «.■■< ^ifl^.i..,*!;}(;r;i^»?i u''^i 1 1 ' -* ^ ,.1 " ■ ^ \i ■■r i».; U4 1 ^'INTRODUCTORY LETTER. •tt*. ' "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 "-■:/■-:: 1 ^ "'■'': , ^S., I- u . 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 . \i t vu 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." *> iftS. ' f .•— * =««»«»«*'"*•*•"■« 'V viu W 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 4ir :•#:■ rWv'.! ->.. ^^ l\ :•<>• ix Diani' >resMd 9» have gentle- caiutic nt, (he for a dand e and varied uteris- npre* nestic ment and ever- iocial is 01 I the ipon ranu fov ■en- the His ,\1 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. - V-"*"" ■ ■ •w^ -£ 'Wf**^"- ' \ ; v^V- •3S?' » 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. I 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. '.-!#■; * ♦ * * ■^ i,M. AK f X I ,-...• *i^,. ^-.-. •*" ' ,,*^*1»«-«C'^- .^r- !)abitaii» ' It, higb^ 'tals, of ime this e bouc> e to the ery in- e mak- vjf. ^t «■<;■ j»^''*"' v!*-*? V,.„. ■' • ' * ... .. ■} -' f' ■ ■ LORETTE. "^'^^r^' '■ 1 ' « • ' > . , vV A. " 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* . ^ -.V • .** 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. u " * \ f sw 12 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 ■idlim»hf ■^*^ JadiaJrAl.^'uf »rf when I die, rQooeeBtosencI ■^ and erf,yy. ;a»Meunvary. 'ssipation for «§•> driijlring. —pretended nWing- ovei' ' ^«ss and indulgence repetitions *^e same ^ heinous ■ '-p*^ v**-. ■r'» ,■*'' >*■•. . .*•■ ■-^•- k ■^*: %: >^.i' 1^ ?'^::.%^ z' ^rg" and Samp; a e; who wiiic/, 'g" and mnge- isuing fell of t. ''' m 4^, }■ .•aajfcn J .A* rtj*f -t: 4"»- ^jae*..' V.V- m. m f ■^Mt ^ %, n 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 li '^ -^SltM'S -m ■^'^ i 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 ><"-- -<.^- .,j^ \ 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?-,, i'- jy^ I ^1 J r -ff •> 74* ': A 16 ,#■" 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 2 •e^. m '*'-•■ "i^ -l*«*e»i(| •!«•.■* r--^-*.. ■^ . 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." f 'i ':■■ '« r"*w%(!<5ss5 ;i 19 "r *^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 l^*. "•■»,>•.' -«— — --<«iW^«5&5iP«!^^ 9% *' 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 2* /: j' "■*. .'>i \* \ ■.•■r^r :--J ■iiifeAiw-. *\ !■(. H 4 1^; V 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 •'■i -.-w*j,'>^-,smV.jss5: ."*?' %•'■- % •A . ^: im: 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. k . _.C. *♦•. ^f^ ■■■*titkr- ■->^km^ ^i i-y 4:1 24 Ti^ ri 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." # V <■ . ' ' ' " 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'- >»»• .^•. ^r*" - ***' ^ '' '* * ' " ' ' »' '* »*" * >- * '«'^ "'-i^->-<»v- ,. ^ , ,i^-:>. ^ Jtiif^^ '^' I ■■•»>- ...■-.... >, r; ..«•, t 26 — 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 Q '-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 -. • - ■s •m 31 ,i » r A 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 m /-'^■"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 ..'.j-y^v^ •>-*»-.**>fr -smmf ' ri.agr/. ^-^hw,^^..,.,- •»«*«.■' jr*^':??-"' -^,^- i ■nTT? J\ i? 33 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." 3* '^;m c .•m ^^jt- 4 Av A 3< 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. It " 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't;.:N';i>V -,, ■■■■r. , i*> 36 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. \i 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*'- 87 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 ?" i "m 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*<^ ' '-'- 11 39 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- 1r ^ 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.'' (1 W-r 4- '■^ .' 41 "^ 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 ■*'' ^' 42 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 ':■;■ U h -d -u]t.i aft I.. I r>ifj f>'Hi'ai ■';.'? ! r.v •.* " *■ H ■^yvj i; ^ i; • ,'. 1 . i'> i- r- . •«» 'e^^ I 'i it was fat ut delay ; Lure coiQ' quietudes ey would , and the ngthenetl the final t: had felt ires upon md meo- nce mor^ rrate her ■ ■ -V" M 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. .''(-: 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:^ ^>' I f 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 4 ^I 'M ' i iii a i suJj n ■ K 'l nllTi iiaii. ^, .., V ' f.: ' '^■** ,/ 46 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----^ •^ ,1\_ I — iw i i^iM^ai I liBWllicfi ^1 lief. At fl Ibie for a 1 ved suck fl -said the ■ lich sht H la terre, ■ [lere is o fl i over to 1 ) to thii- fl n Cana- 1 because ■ , easier 4m Govern |l :r| >u may ■ 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 IT less self-willed and diaebedient towards God. Wheft I became a young woman ; I went into the service £ '• V 9 ^0 ^'''»"-** ' i 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. I,— I . ti n ii ji i 11 » -«««m»nip)| 'V-- .- *■ ■ I: 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 !" HI V 'M: "y*. ■"■"■■iff* 61 *< 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- .*■ S2 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 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 6 n 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 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>\>'-^-..^y S:'^^'^^^<^^i^>^>«'MH|Wii,^^a^^ »;^ r »«» t»» i Jtll0UHIfMfUtll!^- 1 ' . «■' {■» I 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^' 00 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 'H 61 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 ' 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^' )■'...' 63 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 i- 'i iN m'm ^i;^hr-- m*^ I lit \ i! \ i J' I n ai; 64 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 H. 65 ^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 6 x i' .4 >■ . - ■ .--..,v ' tiss^ t- V. 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 m 67 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." 1 ^: i ^ " " - '^';i.* !i ii^ i h I 68 '• 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 a* 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. , M " 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 n 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 *•! 72 *' 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." t^ 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 •«•-- • r i -<^ *, U J i I 74 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,:- n 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 ^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 fr 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. ^l 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 7 ,,..5?7;.--,-;?r-j^- ll m^ \-t w .■^■■.,~ 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." ^ > '^*"***^W#^***'^'''*"*" -.»**•»:*' f«V--*r>-.;»y»'-*^** ' ""y%^[ ■* jj: i < w ^/i rtl >1 i i >4\**n. ,->^'< Vi('Mtt#>----N^ 4> " ' ■••■ ^"*^ W '< 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. i '>;:s'luU-SJ ■■-■ ^iv"^',. V- ,,1; ,-,-..'. - ■ _i.o y;(>5 ■■J5:> <).,- ■■ "~V ,... ^»»w~<-.«.%-., i»..>;'fci ,.1. 'W-i ' f " 1 . -* •^ Sktii i. \ 1. w V. .' * .t 4 ■V \ ■! ^f • \ ■ "^ " . 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 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 7* '•^* I? \r 00m^ U^.-..\!j'Vf, i 1 . • :c aa 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(.1. i\\ w- 81 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 !" y 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 S6 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 ,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»^ '*» / 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 U' Si (bwards Qu^lic, m that all porsuit wonM have been \lSCWff8* \.*v»> V^»'.' *ijr^» i* *'*rfw*f ■ " .-wtX"* ■*- •^ 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^< •■■, '^X imi :■ l ;j-!0r7'r O't !'■)•! .'!.■• li'M ;iJ',' ;. 'i> 'i-^'^i i! »•- .; f •-t •/i-. ...,'-l» ''if (f ■■ l.-mn .U ,v.3^; "iijiv ''*5il oii^-tK-#fr^f ;/'":' y>>i"r}>;';; ']i'- f7.'<;!j'[' i M^ h 'u: . ^-« 'J 'Jf^ ■ *!;lf'r i" ^''. ^t' , .'l>>^/.■i.^'u^ i^t^i vf^s^n-, V%:^:^^'y- ^ -.^ **0V. ''ift^i ■<.rl.i l' • -.1*^ V r/ ^ '«! THE DISCOVERY. I pun- 0'\ '■ ■^S'ii'.s'' s . t*^ ^ iVf 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- .9 ^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ■ •^^ ISO '"^~ miii I.I 2.5 1^ li& IIP 2.2 I 40 2.0 1.8 11.25 11.4 IIIIII.6 V 71 f^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 90 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." <^^" ^r \S' Rut you have said — retorted the Jesuit— that the 1?> . :.r^'^- .;7-"-v"n M 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." ^ m ■•''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 ■? ■ fi ' ■ ' *"'''*fiwn'*^r 92 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^ \ -: . / ',' # 93 " 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" ^1 ' ■■ "m ■■■i^i .•|^v«ry ■■ ■■* ^-Abiii^^ft ■'- ' ■'"nmm m m**' ^ « /-■•w u 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 . 9S 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. j> *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 m the latter said — " on that account we are willing to receive your communication » *' Your marriage—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-^'^« . 'd 97 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 w .- t .is. -ijfjrayr-- •-,m{>^ .w,v-».'w*>»!s »ii»i«, •' iM '■■irifitit- ■rf3t«<.'.*^' 1 ^ : k *-\ . > 9d %*- ^•, 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^ w. -•# 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." f- " 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 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 . '-'^'''- . ^'. iffi^i T^^?I|V'IS»^;= 'h v w >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. ■*;■; :i :m. '"''utt*^^^''""''''' " ■"■' ,y.i.aaw»»^'.a nijl WW Hn .t m 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': I «• 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- 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: <*■ ;v .,) ' 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% V H tTmrnfi "^M tuiimmm «a»»l»4.»*«C» .•^^r^i\f^t0i^0^?***''''"''^'''' '■ I in 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 Iv M ■ V i tA > 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 , K 113 .Jl': I •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! 10 ■ % 'V. =. aHfmrntm** m i"" MMIWNMWMW rtt^m ' i 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 »!.:■- II 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 u intsof aftet ibved upon Echa- dand which ce the r, that nthat. edthe incon- ti had insible When I more ng^the u 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 f 1 f ii f « V - -|||.- .** !i|l|li«iP||l|i I I I ~* \r 1,^ 122 'y^ 'w 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 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 11 *f*fcr'*''^'rtP'1 m i i 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 n7 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 !1 *^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.*. f I =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 *(|^ , W^ "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 x 4r ' 1 - ' ^; •in KM .' I i iiim i w i . i iuiimi iiwMi H >. i m 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 ■*,., : 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 I -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 12 ■IS ^ «pp 138 h Ki 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 i i ^r-^. \l 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 '^» h '«^ * y » 1 i^ •• 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 . >}^' V 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;^ / , t ;?- .' ' ;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- i '•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 my 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 if ;t-S*«.i .»*■*(» V r - •", r!l M ^\-^ 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 T 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 i 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^ 13 -^ 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- 4" 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' \\ w ^ 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* m 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, i — ■•••/ y 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 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 1 i)i "^ ».*.. ^ .>,<». ».•^,^.,^^>•»-' 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 )0 \ >) 111 '1? )i k I ^.'»-^^.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 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- 14 M IS. / a^ w^'i t u -A ■ )fl^|i^pf y 1 1 '■ 1 fU 1 i r I 1 « t t, ■ h 1 ■ }\ L -1 \ ( » I i 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 T? •<■.'■• 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 t 1-. i \ \ 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* *.^ hi I'. , I / ' ; i I H 5? It ! ; : i ■ i I H,.( f-TM"**"' * si^J'i^^^fSSP^*^ ;66 %.. . 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 f i li ^ i I 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 mmf^-^?rwpmmi'' '•' '"T^mm* '' ■ > rv ■-.•* V, (^ 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 .?r'.:Kt I. ■■•^ -*^'d^.^v ,. mi *' ?? >M. '!- !*gg j g |i itl ^V i i'' * '^ ■ fmmmmmm >> t^^ ^■^ f:,'*- 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 in 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- 15 ^ ■ 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. ^' ) 'I The hideous information, which had been so concise- ly but impressively 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- i ■■: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\\ 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 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 2.5 >^ li^ III 2.2 li: i;£ 12.0 1.8 IJ5 J4 1.6 — '^ 6" — ► 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ r i^ 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> I. • " 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^ 16 *'*V,'!' .■'• '^ MMi'"' -\'' i 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 iJ 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 ''■'■^^'. '^% '?:^^s^mm»*--^:i '- ■'-■,/"■ ' '1 - ' '^ * , V\' it I 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 -. \L \\ ^.-r**(:i^;*rf;^_«|^ i»>»i>»ii.i>itf''iii' l^>.vi:^-i,itoti W^fmi'^'f^ismm^^^sm. ( 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 I \ ^^^: 16* .;i5 ■1? r.ilS-»S . <«!*<*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... -^,.i :.-:-.,.-„ v-/-*-' — >- -ryW ltl " *^ ■•:ti> ..-(!. .ii^J^V '■ -'fl' ^f% ■t^- - SJiiSKVpji'r'r---^'?^' , -..^,.-"— • -^ffsr^ ?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 .;Ai,'>fff^N^^T>->i t -Ji n*-—'-A ..li^ r^ v^. y . J n (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 ¥ in 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 u 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 ■ ■'fr--«9i, •^■^■••"^■^P!" "wiitlRnq r '«A .' ^r^ J ( -V I* i f" 1 r. ' f 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 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, 't ■>*«:. If. ''H; L_ Ji ■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, m ^\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 ^ **« w ■IMH Vr t ^*- ..:<«^T^: ■^>^ ..^" 198 of the oppressor, as if he were ready tc destroy, and where is the fuf}^ of the oppressor ?" 3k •.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 I / --:;*■ i r- ^'^#^' #• " *••— «^- "• t ■: C "'7 \ n. 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 ! erience, her apprehensions . 1 -*■ >iwiiifii"i »'>-"»^ ■»^-~ 'A' >■ >i ii*hH wd >ft / i'jy y^'r^H g .^ *'-"* '"-^ iv w* • '•Ttir -rr r-*-" '^— y***' ■•"^ -■- ■ >.> 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 X7* * f? *^. •'*if- V- !'*».. i. -ftt--' . -*,.*i.Hii.v.jp*'<-«-~'': ^.> .■*9t-- mmmmmmmmmm ■MP Ij = ./■ i) 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!-'-' ^uAh-vm k^m ; '. i ■m^- '•"?s^iV'*^>Kt>**- ldiaiw0 iDvigora- into bei 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 !—\ 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 '4^ (I -■>— K i ^ .>i-i>» H PM i>itii<)»)l.% ^» m ^^ fm-n l\' 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 i ,»» M0' ■1 '■^N'fciWs*,'*! t*nv-,.--,.i -T«r- '-*ra-;r/;-.;:T;*^,^^--«/;y£ii;4^«rrx^.tfVVVi''v"'-" *#*■! 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>.^,. ytfh rsf" t i ^mtrntrnt^ ^nn mit v^ ^ •■-I*'"^* 11 fj l I ^ ;♦■ i ■fr k y-^ 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«;triest 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 WVUUlQ* ,_ii «■ ■.♦lit.. if i"; ;».i:ii'.. ..• ,., .*; i.- .-, , .'.4 «♦ »,«u^i £ *^ M m vAiOvi^- j: , ,. !k>.,fn}k i|.-« * ' « ) *t , •■*•=■ > ■ :?: 'A > > ■* 1 y 908 .'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 '4 ''''■a ,•«■'- m^^,:. i'^mdni ■ 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 ^ 18 ■V \ ~ ''f^^f^f 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* ^•^'' ^i ^app"v; ■■';»,-iw«!JS ry.^/:.": V 'A'\i \ SI12 ,". 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 * f3 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* \a u «-•. 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 ■' » J # ^ ■ " . .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." ° - --^'^^ V -;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." r, 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 .i**liBi*a - xe*-«.»*M*.i**KRAi<*h< ' . ••I I m« i liii. ./■ I-, "■'■ 1 i *^. r ~ i 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 i ^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 SI I k-^': i 1-. a ' ^Jl iBPftGI' *" { ( '.^' .. H ■x ! . >: 7 020 ^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* 19 ■■■/■'..' '■.?^. .-■■-■ . -t - '9^\ '*4i*-:***<*« p / 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. '4 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 f -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 I, :%i -*'W*»'«!«l|!Si«i-r ...,>*<'- ■WW ■fO*^ .r/^TiW'us wtflikv. I'V 228 \ f; 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.' . - i 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> ]■■. i mmms&\ f: ■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- M 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^-%\ % \ '„ 'i<\ vta'i'SV' ^<^^:■ )v, n l^^r. .1 '-li, 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 .m/: Km ^r | || iK yi p m, i «i, ■«Myc#!WI9-tv-- ^•'>«*'-*X**i,««*io«jaa.fd»f^^ ..TWi'^'il 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 «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 m ■■^.r. «»«****■•:"•• *-'#^k i «ti i jit| i Hi!i!i i ! 'J wii lih "^-' ) I . 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 20 Ij 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^:-... Vf ^. ♦; 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- l^ I 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* «-»*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^^ *■ ..M: -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 n f ■ .^•v*^4 € % - .X* r.',,-!' i- ■ •■ — —■ .„-«»*<••**- -,.,,,,.. .,^- ~t. *l r 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- Ul %' 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 f <:* 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." \ V% 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 ^!^''-- 0"' V titXtlifSMItt^ ■■—■i^ 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 '4 -^^«'*ISMf HWi 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. i ' -Jfe^l^ ■ri W ■ M ■ .I'M m M i' •«t^^«fc->i, ,«^,. :^" is; thai raa sup- ly pray* ned my Ldly de* ess you, »'hUe re* ; Louiae » aa ex- ed to be id to me ,e/— Her Rmameth r the side ia certain mm -Ai^ .# m. •*« % Ht' .^^' -t^ 1f*i i»^ k-v '' ■ ,..{, I •■•,>/ -JiJ*, « ."> t ^* 45. #: .1 '^^ ♦ «. "H # ^ «* A-" **^- -» :^«*'. "'%(|^^. ^i^'