“Oh, will you please take care of me for a night, for I am looking for my sister, and cannot find her?”
She said: “Dear child, you cannot come with us. Who are you?”
I was so afraid of saying I was one of Father Ignatius’s nuns, knowing that the newspapers might be full of it shortly, and that I should be bringing trouble on Ignatius, and scandal on religion.
A gentleman now came up to me and told me to be off, speaking very roughly to me. Again I appealed to the lady, assuring her I would go away and look for my sister directly the morning came, if only she would take care of me for this one night. The gentleman again told me to be off. But the lady spoke for me, saying:
“We can’t leave the poor child here, like this!”
I felt grateful to her, though it seemed useless to appeal again. Just then a still, small voice seemed to whisper these words to me: “Never mind; you are my child; I will take care of you.” I stopped crying at once, and, looking up to the lady, I said:
“Thank you so very much for being willing to take care of me, but never mind; I am God’s child, and I know He will take care of me.”
These words were hardly uttered when the gentleman said, “Jump up.” I looked in surprise, and could not think where I was to jump to, but I found he wanted me to jump up and take a seat by the coachman; but I could not manage this, as I was tired, ill, and worn out, and I had scarcely tasted food for two days. The gentleman, seeing my inability, kindly assisted me, and I was taken care of until I eventually found my sister, who was glad enough to see me. But I was so frightened at every one. Directly I heard a knock at the door I used to run up to my bed-room, in case any one should see me, so strong was the force of the habit I had acquired at the convent. My sister thought it disgraceful that I should have been allowed to come out of the convent without even a change of clothes, especially so when Father Ignatius had begged my own dear mother to give me up to him for the service of God, and after working as I had done for all those years. I explained that Father Ignatius was on one of his preaching missions, and knew nothing about my leaving. She told me to write and ask for some money. Father Ignatius sent me two pounds, with which he expected me to buy clothes, to settle myself in life, to pay my journeys, and purchase any other necessaries I might require. Two pounds! Less than half of what he has paid, or allowed others to pay, to purchase one cowl for a monk to wear at meal times and in church; less than the sum he has spent to give the Prioress and Novice-mistress Christmas presents! Two pounds, after sixteen years of hard work!