The Argosy — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“T ARGOSY. . ae An Ten Years.a Nun. 4I “Yes,” she answered, weeping ; “and I wish I had said so to the Mayor; but I was all confused and bewildered.” “Qh, if I were you, I should never rest till Pierre knew that I loved him still, better than anything else. I think how sad he must be to find that you are grown indifferent to him !” ‘But what can I do?” asked Sister Catherine. That was the question. Something ought to be done, if it were only to assure the unhappy but faithful Pierre that his Hortense was not so senseless as to prefer a convent to himself; but how to do it was the difficulty. Nobody who has not tried it can have an idea of what it is to be perpetually under lock and key, and surrounded by spies. Our only chance was to write to M. de Forville, and direct the letter to his chateau, whence it would be sure to be forwarded to him; but how to get that letter to the post-office? I racked my brain with schemes, but it was not till near Easter that a moderately prudent one presented itself. The convent garden was on the other side of the street, with a sub- terranean passage beneath, by: which we reached it. It was full in sight of several houses, from the windows of which we were often watched. It was nothing more than a long, narrow patch of ground, with a straight walk all round it, and a little chapel in one corner, where the Perpetual Adoration of the Cross was maintained by our nuns. On the side beyond it, and nearer to the houses, was the priests’ garden ; but again beyond that was a garden belonging to a house which was generally let out in stages. A few days before Easter my ears were greeted by English laughter and English voices, coming to me over the intervening enclosure. I urged Sister Catherine to write her letter immediately ; and I added to it a note to the effect that M. de Forville might send some one to the convent, under pretext of seeing me, with a message from my home; but I left it with him to contrive a way of conveying a letter to us. These letters ready, the old difficulty of getting them to my country-people still remained. It was impossible to enter into any communication with them from the garden, because of the Perpetual Adoration. I fell back upon an old accomplishment, which had slipped into disuse. I have three brothers, who took upon themselves my early education; and, amongst other boyish acquire- ments, had made me an adept at flinging missiles ata mark. My sole chance lay in casting my letters from my attic window into the garden of the English. | Take the trouble to think of my difficulties. My window was high, certainly, and gave me so much vantage ; but before me lay the street, the nuns’ garden, the priests’ garden, and beyond that, the one my aim must reach. They were all narrow places, so that the distance was not absolutely great, but there was the terrible chance of missing my throw, and of our letters falling into either of the two nearer enclosures. E comicaocks (GO)