There was one young student at the academy whose name was Smalley.  He was from New England, and his father lived at St. Albans, Vt., where he had wealth and influence.  This young man had a little sister who used to visit at the convent, whom they called Sissy Smalley.  She was young, but handsome, witty and intelligent.  For one of her age, she was very much refined in her manners.  They allowed her to go anywhere in the building except the private apartments where those deeds of darkness were performed which would not bear the pure light of heaven.  I presume that no argument could convince little Sissy Smalley that such rooms were actually in the nunnery.  She had been all over it, she would tell you, and she never saw any torture rooms, never heard of any one being punished, or anything of the kind.  Such reports would appear to her as mere slanders, yet God knows they are true.  I well remember how I used to shudder to hear that child praise the nunnery, tell what a nice, quiet place it was, and how she would like it for a permanent home.  I hope her brother will find out the truth about it in season to prevent his beautiful sister from ever becoming a nun.

CHAPTER XXI.

Second escape from the nunnery.

It was early in the spring, when I again succeeded in making my escape.  It was on a Saturday evening, when the priests and nearly all the nuns were In the chapel.  I was assisted out of the yard in the same way I was before, and by the same person.  There was still snow upon the ground and that they might not be able to track me, I entered the market and walked the whole length of it without attracting observation.  From thence I crossed the street, when I saw a police officer coming directly towards me.  I turned down a dark alley and ran for my life, I knew not whither.  It is the duty of every police officer in Montreal to accompany any of the sisters whom they chance to meet in the street, and I knew if he saw me he would offer to attend me wherever I wished to go.  Such an offer might not be refused, and, certainly, his company, just at that time, was neither desirable nor agreeable.

At the end of the alley, I found myself near a large church, and two priests were coming directly towards me.  It is said “the drowning catch at straws.”  Whether this be true or not, the plan which I adopted in this emergency seemed as hopeless for my preservation, as a straw for the support of the drowning.  Yet it was the only course I could pursue, for to escape unseen was impossible.  I therefore resolved to go boldly past them, and try to make them think I was a Superior going to church.  Trying to appear as indifferent as possible, I approached, and saluted them in the usual way.  This is done by throwing forward the open hand, and passing it down by the side with a slight inclination of the head.  The priest returns the salutation by standing with uncovered