to raise her head it would strangle her.  The rope was then fastened under the bedcord, and two or three times over her person.  Her arms were extended, and fastened in the same way.  As she lay thus, like a lamb bound for the sacrifice, she looked up at her tormentors and said, “Will the Lord permit me to die in this cruel way?” The priest immediately exclaimed, in an angry tone, “Stop your talk, you mad woman!” and turning to me, he bade me go back to the kitchen.  It is probable he saw the impression on my mind was not just what they desired, therefore he hurried me away.

All this time the poor doomed nun submitted quietly to her fate.  I suppose she thought it useless, yea, worse than useless, to resist; for any effort she might make to escape would only provoke them, and they would torment her the more.  I presume she thought her last hour had come, and the sooner she was out of her misery the better.  As for me, my heart was so filled with terror, anguish, and pity for her, I could hardly obey the command to leave the room.

I attempted to descend the stairs, but was obliged to go very slowly on account of the stiffness of my limbs, and before I reached the bottom of the first flight the priest and the Superior came out into the hall.  I heard them whispering together, and I paused to listen.  This, I know, was wrong; but I could not help it, and I was so excited I did not realize what I was doing.  My anxiety for that girl overpowered every other feeling.  At first I could only hear the sound of their voices; but soon they spoke more distinctly, and I heard the words.  “What shall we do with her? she will never confess.”  In an audible tone of voice, the other replied, “We had better finish her.”  How those words thrilled my soul!  I knew well enough that they designed “to finish her,” but to hear the purpose announced so coolly, it was horrible.  Was there no way that I could save her?  Must I stand there, and know that a fellow-creature was being murdered, that a young girl like myself, in all the freshness of youth and the fullness of health, was to be cut off in the very prime of life and numbered with the dead; hurried out of existence and plunged, unwept, unlamented, into darkness and silence?  She had friends, undoubtedly, but they would never be allowed to know her sad fate, never shed a tear upon her grave!  I could not endure the thought.  I felt that if I lingered there another moment I should be in danger of madness myself; for I could not help her.  I could not prevent the consummation of their cruel purpose; I therefore hastened away, and this was the last I ever heard of that poor nun.  I had never seen her before, and as I did not see her clothes, I could not even tell whether she belonged to our nunnery or not.

CHAPTER X.

The sick nun.