The tedious night at length passed away.  When I met Mr. Williams in the morning, I told him I could no longer remain with him, for I was sure if I did, I should be suddenly arrested in some unguarded moment, and carried back to Montreal.  He urged me to stay, assured me he would never allow them to take me, said that he thought some of going south, and I could go with him, and thus be removed far from all whom I feared.  Mrs. Williams, also, strove to persuade me to stay.  But, though sorry to appear ungrateful, I dared not remain another night where I felt that my danger was so great.

When they found that I was determined to go, Mr. Williams said I had better go to Worcester, Mass., and try to get employment in some farmer’s family, a little out of the city.  He gave me money to bear my expenses, until I found a place where I could earn my living.  It was with a sad heart that I left this hospitable roof, and as I turned away I said in my heart, “Shall I always be hunted through the world in this manner, obliged to flee like a guilty thing, and shall I never find a home of happiness and peace?  Must sorrow and despair forever be the portion of my cup?” But no words of mine can describe what I felt at that moment.  I longed for the power to sound a warning through the length and breadth of the land, to cry in the ears of all the people, “Beware of Romanism!” Like the patient man of Uz, with whose history I have since become familiar, I was ready to exclaim, “O that my words were now written!  O that they were printed in a book!  Graven with an iron pen,” that the whole world might know what a fearful and bitter thing it is to be a nun!  To be subject to the control of those ruthless tyrants, the Romish Priests.

Once more I entered the depot, and mingled with the crowd around the ticket office.  But no pen can describe my terror when I found myself the object of particular attention.  I heard people remark about my strange and unnatural appearance, and I feared I might be taken up for a crazy person, if not for a nun.  Thinking that I saw an enemy in every face, and a pursuer in every one who came near me, I hastened to take refuge in the cars.  There I waited with the greatest impatience for the starting of the train.  Slowly the cars were filled; very leisurely the passengers sought their seats, while I sat trembling in every limb, and the cold perspiration starting from every pore.  How carefully I scanned every face! how eagerly I watched for some indication of the priest or the spy!  So intense was my anxiety, those few moments seemed to me an age of agony.  At length the shrill whistle announced that all was ready, and like sweetest music the sound fell upon my ears.  The train dashed off at lightning speed, but to me it seemed like the movement of a snail.