As I entered a lady came forward to meet me, and the pleasant expression of her countenance at once won my confidence.  She gave me a cordial welcome, saying, with a smile, as she led me to a seat, “I guess, my dear, you are a run-a-way, are you not?” I confessed that it was even so; that I had fled from priestly cruelty, had travelled as far as I could, and now, weary, sick, and faint from long fasting, I had ventured to cast myself upon her mercy.  “Will you protect me?” I asked, “and are you a Roman Catholic?” “No,” she replied, “I am not a Roman Catholic, and I will protect you.  You seem to have suffered much, and are quite exhausted.  But you will find a friend in me.  I will not betray you, for I dislike the priests and the convents as much as you do.”

She then called her little girl, and ordered a fire kindled in another chamber, saying she did not wish her servants to see me.  The child soon returned, when the lady herself conducted me to a large, pleasant bed-room, handsomely furnished with every convenience, and a fire in the grate.  She gave me a seat in a large easy-chair before the fire, and went out, locking the door after her.  In a short time she returned with warm water for a bath, and with her own hands gave me all the assistance needed.  As I related the incidents of the day, she expressed much sympathy for my sufferings, and said she was glad I had come to her.  She gave, me a cordial, and then brought me a cup of tea and other refreshments, of which I made a hearty supper.  She would not allow me to eat all I wished; but when I had taken as much as was good for me, she bathed my feet with a healing wash, and assisted me to bed.  O, the luxury of that soft and comfortable bed!  No one can realize with what a keen sense of enjoyment I laid my head upon those downy pillows, unless they have suffered as I did, and known by experience the sweetness of repose after excessive toil.

All that night this good lady sat beside my bed, and kept my feet wet in order to reduce the swelling.  I was little inclined to sleep, and at her request related some of the events of my convent life.  While doing this, I hardly knew what to make of this curious woman.  Sometimes she would weep, and then she would swear like any pirate.  I was surprised and somewhat afraid of her, she seemed so strange and used such peculiar language.  She understood my feelings at once, and immediately said, “You need not be afraid of me, for I have a kind heart, if I do use wicked words.  I cannot help swearing when I think about the priests, monsters of iniquity that they are; what fearful crimes they do commit under the cloak of religion!  O, if the people of this land could but see their real character, they would rise en masse and drive them from the country, whose liberties they will, if possible, destroy.  For myself I have good cause to hate them.  Shall I tell you my story, dear?” I begged her to do so, which she did, as follows: