I lay in that coffin a long time, as it seemed to me, without the least motion. I was so much alarmed, I felt as though I could not even lift a finger. Meantime the Bishop and priests read alternately from a book, but in a language I could not understand. Occasionally they would come and feel my hands and feet, and say to each other, "She is very cold." I believe they were afraid I should die in their hands, of fear. When at last they took me up, they told me that I would carry that coffin to Montreal with me--that I would be laid in it when robed for the grave--and that my bones would moulder to dust in it. I shall never forget the impression these words made on my mind. There was something so horrible in the thought of carrying a coffin about with me all my life, constantly reminding me of the shortness of time, and the sure approach of death, I could not endure it. Gladly would I have left it, costly and elegant as it was, choosing rather to run the risk of being buried without one, but this was not allowed. I could have no choice in the matter. These ceremonies concluded. I was taken to a small room, and a woman assisted me to change my clothes again, and put on the Grey Nunnery suit. This consisted of a grey dress and shoes, and a black cap. Each nunnery has a peculiar dress which every nun is required to wear. Thus, on meeting one of them, it is very easy to tell what establishment she belongs to, and a run-away is easily detected. On leaving the chapel, I was taken to the steamboat, with the other ten girls, accompanied by a priest. Our coffins were packed in cotton, and placed on the boat with us. On our arrival at Montreal, we found a priest and two nuns waiting for us to conduct us to the nunnery. CHAPTER VI. THE GREY NUNNERY.