Place--we were welcomed by a regular shower of shells which flew in all directions. Happily we had almost reached our destination, though, had it not been for Dame Patrick, I should never have known my way, but should probably have passed by the Monastery. At the door we met two brave Britishers whom I told to come into the parlour, where they would be more out of danger. They did not feel afraid, and said they were sent to search for some bread; for they could not get any in the town. I gave them some of the provisions which we were to take with us, with a little pot of butter, and--what I knew they liked so much--as many pears as they could carry. They were delighted, and so were we. We then talked of the war, and the old story came back again, the hope so cherished by all, and yet also not realised: “Oh! it will soon be over. We’ll be home for Christmas!”’ Our poor dinner was now served, the last we were to take in the dear old home. The reading was made aloud as usual. The subject was ‘Holy Poverty’--truly appropriate for the times and surroundings. The last words which the reader pronounced before the signal was given, were: ‘The Lord has given, the Lord has taken away! May His Holy Name be blessed!’ Had we prepared the reading beforehand, it could not have been better chosen. Our dear Lord had truly given us our Abbey, and had made it withstand the course of years, with all the changes of government, wars, and revolutions, which had swept over Belgium, especially Flanders--and now He was taking it away. May His Holy Name be blessed! CHAPTER VI FLIGHT During dinner the bombardment had been at its height. In that short half-hour almost twenty shells had burst quite close to us. It was our side of the town that was being attacked--already a poor woman, begging for something to eat, had told the portress that the roof of the college was struck. Mother Prioress, deaf to all entreaties, said that everyone without exception was to be ready at 2 o’clock. We went about, looking--perhaps for the last time--at the dear old scenes, which we had thought to leave only when death should knock at our door. We had already placed on every window of the convent a paper badge of the Sacred Heart, and lastly erected a niche outside one of the garret windows, in which we put the miraculous statue of Our Lady of the Angels, which had remained unhurt outside the Monastery in the siege of Ypres, in 1744. We had done all we could and must now abandon all, leaving everything under the double protection of the Mother and the Son.