The Argosy — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

THE A 4 42 Ten Years a Nun. Dec. 1 186. Every day I picked up stones stealthily in the garden, and every evening during vespers I practised flinging them from my window. The priests’ melon-frames were broken, and a sister narrowly escaped being struck by a pebble ; but a watch was set for mischievous lads in the street, and no suspicion fell upon me. I resolved that as soon as I had thrown twelve stones, without missing, into the English garden, I would risk my precious packet to my skill. It was done at last. Twelve largish stones had descended into the nght patch of ground ; and, with hands trembling with excitement, I wrapped my packet in a paper, upon which I had wnitten, ‘“‘ One of your country-women implores you earnestly to post this letter.” My hands trembled, I said. But that would never do. I am not ashamed to own that I covered my face with them, and prayed God to give me strength and steady nerves, to take a mght aim; and then standing perfectly still for a few seconds, to make sure that I trembled no longer, I whirled my weighted packet out of my hand. The short time it takes for a stone to skim through the air seemed several minutes to me._ I felt persuaded it would fall into the pnests’ garden, and all the dire consequences rose vividly before me. But I saw my missile just clear the farthest wall, and drop into its right place; and I sat down on the floor, crying hysterically, partly from thankfulness, and partly from reaction. I felt certain all would be nght now; but I did not cry the less for that. Well: about fifteen days after that, a message came to me that a friend was waiting to see me at the gnille. My heart throbbed quickly as I went. Was it really one of my own people, weary to see my face, . and unsatisfied by the formal and scanty letters I was compelled to write? Or was it a confederate of M. de Forville? Sister Catherine fainted dead away when she heard the message, and I left the school in commotion, though happily no connection was perceived between the cause and effect. I found the Supéneure in bland conversation with my visitor when I entered. It was a lady, a stranger, who explained to us that she had met Monsieur mon pére, at Paris, and having mentioned that she should be passing through this town, he had asked her to do him the inestimable favour of seeing me with her own eyes, and assuring herself of my health and happiness. There could be no doubt of either, she added, with a polite compliment to Madame, and she had another commission to fulfil. Monsieur mon pére had entrusted to her two Easter eggs—one for Madame and the other for me—and witha smile of the sweetest blandness’she put both into the Supérieure’s hands. They were small enamelled and painted boxes, of the shape and size of an egg. Madame’s contained a bank-note for two hundred francs; and mine simply a chocolate bon-bon. It was impossible to suspect any- thing, for I was not yet a suspected person. The chocolate egg contained a most ardent letter from Pierre, im- NOOKS COIN @ (GO)