‘Our guide kept bravely on, from time to time stopping to wipe the perspiration off his face; for, although it was freezing, the poor fellow had no light work to try to advance through the mud and dirt. At last, passing by some houses, he left the cart in the middle of the road, and vanished. The reason soon became evident, for a moment afterwards he came out with a glass of foaming beer, wherewith to refresh himself. Once again, on we went. Would the road ever come to an end? Would we ever arrive at our destination? We scanned the horizon to find some vestige of our approaching goal, but could discover nothing but an endless succession of trees, hop-gardens, fields. Finally, however, some houses came in sight, so plucking up our courage, we pushed forward, and soon reached the convent door. At last we should get a rest. Alas, how we were deceiving ourselves! Once inside, we were soon surrounded by our Sisters, one more anxious than the other to know what had happened, and to tell us what had been decided during our absence. Parcels of every shape and dimension next met our eyes. Arrived at the room which we generally occupied, what was our astonishment to find dear Lady Abbess downstairs, surrounded by the nuns of both communities. On catching sight of us, she was more than delighted. We knelt for her blessing, and to tell her some of our adventures, and then learnt the reason of all this excitement.’
Mother Prioress will now tell what happened during the absence of Dame Columban, Dame Patrick, and Dame Placid.
‘As soon as the three nuns had set out for Ypres, we went to the chapel to recommend them to the protection of God, and by a fervent “Sub tuum” we commended them to the care of the Blessed Virgin. They had promised me to be back if possible that night, or at least the next morning, if they could remain in the convent cellars without too much danger. At 3 P.M. I was called to see Captain Liddell, who told me that the British Headquarters would place two ambulance cars at our disposal to conduct Lady Abbess and the community to St. Omer. The cars would be ready between ten and eleven next morning. He also said that, once at St. Omer, I had only to address myself to the mayor, or to the general staff. I thanked him profusely, and told him of my anxiety for the three nuns who had gone to Ypres. “It was a very imprudent thing to attempt,” he answered. “I trust they will not be allowed to enter the town, for it is being fiercely shelled.” I was very alarmed, as were the rest of the community, to whom I related what the captain had said. In the evening, we were assembled with the nuns from Oostmieunkerke in the big parlour, which the Superioress had kindly allotted for our use. The gas being cut off, we had only one pétrole lamp between us. We spent our time working and praying.
‘From time to time, on hearing a ring at the bell, we would ask if the nuns had yet come back; one of the younger nuns would go and enquire, but always returned disappointed. We looked at each other anxiously. What would become of them this night? We could only recommend them to God. Suddenly I had an inspiration. “Let us put them under the protection of St. Raphael,” I said, “and promise him a Mass to-morrow—there are several priests at the ambulance, one of them will surely be free to say it.” Everyone was pleased with the idea, and Dame Teresa went to make enquiries. She soon came back in triumph, saying that the priest from Avignon was outside. We told him our distress, and respectfully begged him to be so kind as to say the Mass in honour of St. Raphael for the safe return of our three absent ones. He willingly agreed. At the same moment the appearance of the portress brought the cry to our lips: “They are there!” “No! it is the Commandant Delporte, of the Belgian police, who wishes to speak to Mother Prioress.” I went to the parlour, fear and hope alternately taking possession of my heart. He came to ask if Captain Liddell had called, and if the decision of the Headquarters suited us. I told him of the arrangement and added, “Once at St. Omer, what shall I do with our honoured Lady Abbess? May she remain in the motor, which they say must return to Poperinghe that evening, while I go to the mayor and general staff?” He reflected a moment, and then, taking one of his cards, he wrote a few words recommending us to Major Kirke. “Take this,” he said, rising, “and give it to the major, who is a great friend of mine, and rest assured that all will be well.” I could not thank him enough, and conducted him to the door. There I found myself in presence of two men, who asked to see me. They brought me a message from our nuns, telling me not to be anxious; they would not return that night, but the next day, as soon as possible. I felt a little relieved, but again the question presented itself, at what hour would they arrive? Would they be in time? The next morning we arranged our modest parcels, which—thanks to the dexterity of Dame Aloysius—were soon ready, thinking all the time of our missing Sisters. For my part, I went to prepare Lady Abbess for our departure, for the hour was fast approaching. We must come to a decision—the three must remain at La Sainte Union until the opportunity of joining us in England should present itself. We had now to get Lady Abbess down the stairs which were narrow and steep, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we succeeded. We made her as comfortable as we could in an arm-chair in the big parlour, where the nuns of the three communities gathered round her, for everyone was filled with an affectionate respect for her, mingled with compassion for her age and infirmity. We tried to hide our perplexity and anxiety from her. It was now time to start, and the three were not yet back. At this moment the portress entered the room smiling—what was it? Captain Liddell had just called to say the motors would not be round till 1.30. “Deo gratias!” To complete our happiness, the absent ones soon arrived, covered with dust and mud, but producing in triumph the great-habits and breviaries they had been able to save.’
CHAPTER XII
ON THE WAY TO ENGLAND
There was now no time to waste. The few treasures we had brought with us were promptly added to the other packages; while it was decided that each nun should wear her great-habit, as much to lessen the number of parcels, as to preserve us from the cold, especially when crossing the sea. We bade adieu to the Superioress and community of La Sainte Union, who had given us such a warm welcome, and shown us such hospitality during the past fortnight. They asked us in return to beseech Our Lord not to allow the Germans to bombard Poperinghe, that they might be able to stop in their convent, which they had only built during the past eleven years, since the French Government had driven them from Hazebrouck.
A ring at the door interrupted our adieux. The voice of a British officer was heard, asking if this were the convent where the Irish Dames of Ypres had taken refuge. The answer was soon given; and while some went to help Lady Abbess, others seized the ‘baggage,’ and all were soon at the door, where a group of wondering children and other people were assembled to see what would be the end of such an unusual sight. The great difficulty was to get our venerable invalid into the car; for although able to walk fairly well when helped on both sides, it was almost impossible for her to mount the two small steps. However, the soldiers soon came to the rescue; and, with the help of their strong arms, she was soon established comfortably in a corner of one of the motors, enveloped in a blanket and numerous shawls to keep out the cold. The rest of the community were not long in getting in the motors, and Edmund brought up the rear with a young Irish girl, Miss Keegan, who had been trying to get home since the war broke out, and had now begged to be allowed to make the journey with us.
Owing to the heavy fall of rain and the unusual traffic, the roads were in a very bad condition and consequently our ride was not of the smoothest; but no accident occurred. Being frosty weather, the wind was bitterly cold, and we were obliged to keep everything closed that Lady Abbess might not be inconvenienced. She, however, kept up bravely. We did not forget to say the ‘Sub tuum,’ nor to invoke our good St. Raphael with a fervent ‘Angeli, archangeli,’ to which we added the prayer for travellers. About half-way our kind guides came round to the entrance of the cars to know if we wanted anything. We passed through several villages and small towns surrounded by snow-covered fields and frozen ponds. Nothing of note happened to vary the monotony of the continual shaking of our motors. A little after 5 P.M. we came to a standstill, and looking out, found ourselves in what seemed to be a good-sized town. We were not left long in suspense, for soon the cheery face of the officer in charge appeared, enquiring where we wished to be driven, for we were at St. Omer. Mother Prioress then produced the letter of recommendation given her by Commandant Delporte for Major Kirke. The officer took the card, and soon we moved off in another direction. After a few minutes’ run, we came again to a halt, stopping some time. The officer then reappeared, saying that the major was absent, and asking where we would like to go now. Alas! we did not know, and wondered if it would not be advisable to go straight on to Boulogne that same evening, to take the boat the first thing next morning. The officer, seeing our perplexity, vanished once more. Soon we were bowling through busy streets, lined with shops well lit. Another stop, a few minutes’ wait, and off we were again. A third halt—then another officer appeared, saluted, and asked in excellent French if he could render us any service, or replace Major Kirke, who was absent from St. Omer. On hearing our situation, he told us that if we would just step out we should find accommodation in the establishment before which the cars had stopped. As he was still speaking, the persons who kept the house came out, helping us down, taking the parcels from us, and seeming more than delighted at our arrival. We were not sorry to leave the cars, for we were quite cramped with the long, cold drive. The next question was how to get Lady Abbess out of her corner, and into the house. At last the officer in charge had the bright idea of carrying her on a stretcher. Accordingly, one was brought down and laid on the seat opposite. We then helped her to sit on the stretcher, and induced her to lie down. She was at first afraid, not being accustomed to this novel mode of conveyance; but, being reassured, she allowed the soldiers to carry her into the house, and she was soon seated in a comfortable arm-chair by a blazing fire. After expressing our gratitude to the good soldiers, we rejoined Lady Abbess and soon made acquaintance with our kind hostesses. What was our delight to find that they were secularised Ursuline nuns, and that the house had formerly been a convent of La Sainte Union. It is therefore unnecessary to state that we were received with the greatest charity, a bed being even carried down to the room where we were for Lady Abbess, so that she should not be obliged to go upstairs. Poor Edmund had once more to be sent off, being conducted to almost the other end of the town, much to his distress.