and who still adored you. Vows made in delusion are not registered.
Leave this convent with me, become my wife, and you will do your duty
better towards heaven than by pining between these walls, which contain
nothing but envy, hatred, and remorse."

"Francois, you have had my answer. What has been done, cannot be undone.
Save yourself, and leave me to my unhappy fate," answered Marie; then
bursting into tears, "O Francois, why, why did you leave me without one
word? Had you but pointed out your danger to me, I should have been the
first to have insisted upon your absence, and all, all would have been
borne with patience, if not with pleasure, for your sake. If what you
now say is truth, all would have been well; but now I have naught to
cheer me in my lonely pilgrimage, and naught to wish but that it soon
may come unto its close. I forgive you, Francois, but pity me, for I
deserve your pity."

"Once more, Marie, I entreat you to consent to my proposal."

"Never, Francois; I will not be less faithful to my God than I was to
you. He will not desert me; and if I suffer now, will reward me for it
hereafter." And Marie again quitted my apartment.

My situation in the nunnery now became insupportable, and I determined
to escape. I pleaded ill health and kept my bed. The physician of a
neighbouring convent, who had a great reputation, was sent for against
my wishes. When I heard of his arrival, I dressed to receive him, for I
was fearful of some scrutiny. He inquired what ailed me: I answered that
I had no pain, but that I was convinced I should soon depart. He felt my
pulse, and not being able to discover symptoms of disease took his
leave.

To the elder sisters who visited me, I spoke in enigmas, and told them
that I had a summons, that they must expect soon to find me gone: and
the sanctity of my reputation make them receive my innuendoes as
inspired remarks. One night, I complained of being much worse, and
requested their early retiring: they would have sent for the physician,
but I forbade it, telling them I was beyond a physician's cure: kissing
them all, and pronouncing over them a solemn blessing, I dismissed them.
As soon as it was dark, I threw off my nun's attire, leaving it in my
bed, as if I had slipped out of it; and as the windows of my apartment,
which looked into the convent garden, were not barred, unclothed as I
was I dropped down, and reached the ground in safety. I took the
precaution, when I was ou