She then called her little girl, and ordered a fire kindled in another
chamber, saying she did not wish her servants to see me. The child
soon returned, when the lady herself conducted me to a large, pleasant
bed-room, handsomely furnished with every convenience, and a fire in
the grate. She gave me a seat in a large easy-chair before the fire, and
went out, locking the door after her. In a short time she returned with
warm water for a bath, and with her own hands gave me all the assistance
needed. As I related the incidents of the day, she expressed much
sympathy for my sufferings, and said she was glad I had come to her.
She gave, me a cordial, and then brought me a cup of tea and other
refreshments, of which I made a hearty supper. She would not allow me to
eat all I wished; but when I had taken as much as was good for me,
she bathed my feet with a healing wash, and assisted me to bed. O, the
luxury of that soft and comfortable bed! No one can realize with what a
keen sense of enjoyment I laid my head upon those downy pillows, unless
they have suffered as I did, and known by experience the sweetness of
repose after excessive toil.
All that night this good lady sat beside my bed, and kept my feet wet in
order to reduce the swelling. I was little inclined to sleep, and at her
request related some of the events of my convent life. While doing this,
I hardly knew what to make of this curious woman. Sometimes she would
weep, and then she would swear like any pirate. I was surprised and
somewhat afraid of her, she seemed so strange and used such peculiar
language. She understood my feelings at once, and immediately said, "You
need not be afraid of me, for I have a kind heart, if I do use wicked
words. I cannot help swearing when I think about the priests, monsters
of iniquity that they are; what fearful crimes they do commit under the
cloak of religion! O, if the people of this land could but see their
real character, they would rise en masse and drive them from the
country, whose liberties they will, if possible, destroy. For myself I
have good cause to hate them. Shall I tell you my story, dear?" I begged
her to do so, which she did, as follows:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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