We were almost across the river, when the captain saw me, and gave orders to turn back the boat, and leave me on the shore from whence we started. From his appearance I thought we were pursued, and I was not mistaken. Five priests were following us in another boat, and they too, turned back, and reached the shore almost as soon as we did. I left the boat and ran for my life. I was now sure that I was pursued; there could be no doubt of that, for the sound of footsteps behind me came distinct to my ear. At a little distance stood a small, white house. Could I not reach it? Would not the people protect me? The thought gave me courage, and I renewed my efforts. Nearer came the footsteps, but I reached the house, and without knocking, or asking permission, I sprang through the door. The people were in bed, in another room, but a man looked out, and asked what I wanted. "I'm a nun," said I. "I've run away from the Grey Nunnery, and they're after me. Hide me, O hide me, and God will bless you!" As I spoke he put out his hand and opened the cellar door. "Here," said he, "run down cellar, I'll be with you in a moment." I obeyed, and he struck a light and followed. Pointing to a place where he kept ashes, he said hastily, "Crawl in there." There was not a moment to lose, for before he had covered up my hiding place, a loud knock was heard upon the front door. Having extinguished his light, he ran up stairs, and opened the door with the appearance of having just left his bed. "Who is here?" he asked, "and what do you want this time of night?" One of them replied, "We are in search of a nun, and are very sure she came in here?" "Well gentlemen," said he, "walk in, and see for yourselves. If she is here, you are at liberty to find her." Lighting a candle, he proceeded to guide them over the house, which they searched until they were satisfied. They then came down cellar, and I gave up all hope of escape. Still, I resolved never to be taken alive. I could strangle myself, and I would do it, rather than suffer as I did before. At that moment I could truly say with the inspired penman, with whose language I have since become familiar, "my soul chooseth strangling and death rather than life." They looked all around me, and even into the place where I lay concealed, but they did not find me. At length I heard them depart, and so great was my joy, I could hardly restrain my feelings within the bounds of decorum. I felt as though I must dance and sing, shout aloud or leap for joy at my great deliverance. I am sure I should have committed some extravagant act had not the gentleman at that moment called me up, and told me that my danger was by no means past. This information so dashed my cup of bliss that I was able to drink it quietly.