Then I thought again of the place I had left; the kindness and sympathy, small though they were, which I had found in some of my late companions in the convent; the awful mortal sin I had committed in breaking my vows; and the terrible punishments I should receive if taken as a fugitive and carried back. If I should return voluntarily, and ask to be admitted again: what would the Superior say, how would she treat me? Should . be condemned to any very severe penance? Might I not, at least, escape death? But then there was one consideration that would now and then occur to me, which excited the strongest determination never to return. I was to become a mother, and the thought of witnessing the murder of my own child was more than I could bear.
Purgatory was doubtless my portion; and perhaps hell forever — such a purgatory and hell as are painted in the convent: but there was one hope for me yet.
I might confess all my deadly sins sometime before I died, and a Bishop could pardon the worst of them.
This was good Catholic doctrine, and I rested upon it with so much hope, that I was not quite driven to despair.
In reflections like these I spent the whole day, afraid to stray from the secluded spot to which I had retreated, though at different times forming momentary plans to leave it, and go in various directions. I ate not a morsel of food, and yet felt no hunger. Had I been well provided, I could have tasted nothing in such a state of mind. The afternoon wasted away, the sun set, and darkness began to come on. I rose and set off again for the city. I passed along the streets unmolested by anyone; and reached it a short time before the boat was ready to start.
