name and my shame might perish on earth together. As for my future doom, I still looked forward to it with gloomy apprehensions: for I considered myself is almost, if not quite, removed beyond the reach of mercy. During all the time which had elapsed since I left the convent, I had received no religious instruction, nor even read a word of the Scriptures; and, therefore, it is not wonderful that I should still have remained under the delusions in which I had been educated.
The plan arranged for the commencement of my journey was this: I was to cross the St. Lawrence to Longueuil, to meet the man who was to accompany me. The woman who had sent my message into the country, went with me to the ferry, and crossed the river, where, according to appointment, we found my companion. He willingly undertook to accompany me to the place of my destination, and at his own expense; but declared that he was apprehensive we should be pursued. To avoid the priests who he supposed would follow us, he took an indirect route, and during about twelve days, or nearly that, which we spent on the way, passed over a much greater distance than was necessary. It would be needless, if it were possible, to mention all the places we visited. We crossed Carpenter's ferry, and were at Scotch Mountain and St. Alban's; arrived at Champlain by land, and there took the steamboat, leaving it again at Burlington.
As we were riding towards Charlotte, my companion entertained fears which, to me, appeared ridiculous; but it was impossible for me to reason him out of them, or to hasten our journey. Circumstances which appeared to me of no moment whatever, would often influence and sometimes make him change his whole plan and direction. As we were one day approaching Charlotte, for instance, on inquiring of a person on the way whether there were any Canadians there, and being informed that there were not a few, and that there was a
