I entered, and she soon proposed to me to let her go and tell my mother that I had returned to the city. To this I objected. I went with her, however, to the house of one of her acquaintances near by where I remained some time, during which she went to my mother's and came with a request from her, that I would have an interview with her, proposing to come up and see me, saying that she had something very particular to say to me. What this was, I could not with any certainty conjecture. I had my suspicions that it might be something from the priests, designed to get me back into their power, or, at least, to suppress my testimony.
I felt an extreme repugnance to seeing my mother, and in the distressing state of apprehension and uncertainty in which I was, could determine on nothing, except to avoid her. I therefore soon left the house, and walked on without any particular object. The weather was then very unpleasant, and it was raining incessantly. To this I was very indifferent, and walked on till I had got to the suburbs, and found myself beyond the windmills. Then I returned, and passed back through the city, still not recognised by anybody.
I once saw one of my brothers, unless I was much mistaken, and thought he knew me. If it was he, I am confident he avoided me, and that was my belief at the time, as he went into a yard with the appearance of much agitation. I continued to walk up and down most of the day, fearful of stopping anywhere, lest I should be recognised by my enemies, or betrayed into their power. I felt all the distress of a feeble, terrified woman, in need of protection, and, as I thought, without a friend in whom I could safely confide. It distressed me extremely to think of my poor babe; and I had now been so long absent from it, as necessarily to suffer much inconvenience.
I recollected to have been told, in the New York Hospital, that laudanum would relieve distress both bodily and mental, by a woman who had urged me to make a trial of it. In my despair, I resolved to make an experiment with it, and entering an apothecary's shop asked for some. The apothecary refused to give me any; but an old man who was there, told me to come in, and inquired where I had been, and what was the matter with me, seeing that I was quite wet through. I let him know that I had an infant, and on his urging me to tell more, I told him where my mother lived. He went out, and soon after returned accompanied by my mother, who told me she had my child at home, and pressed me to go to her house and see it, saying she would not insist on my entering, but would bring it out to me.
I consented to accompany her; but on reaching the door, she began to urge me to go in, saying I should not be known to the rest of the family, but might stay there in perfect privacy. I was resolved not to comply with this request, and resisted all her entreaties, though she continued to urge me for a long time, perhaps half an hour. At length she went in, and I walked away, in a state no less desperate than before. Indeed, night was now approaching, the rain continued, and I had no prospect of food, rest, or even shelter. I went on till I reached the parade-ground, unnoticed, I believe, by anybody, except one man, who asked where I was going, but to whom I gave no answer. I had told my mother, before she had left me, that she might find me in the parade-ground. There I stopped in a part of the open ground where there was no probability of my being observed, and stood thinking of the many distressing things which harassed me; suffering, indeed, from exposure to wet and cold, but indifferent to them as evils of mere trifling importance, and expecting that death would soon ease me of my present sufferings. I had hoped that my mother would bring my babe to me there; but as it was growing late, I gave up all expectation of seeing her.
At length she came, accompanied by Mr. Hoyt, who, as I afterward learnt, had called on her after my leaving the hotel, and, at her request, had intrusted my child to her care. Calling again after I had left her house, she had informed him that she now knew where I was, and consented to lead him to the spot. I was hardly able to speak or to walk, in consequence of the hardships I had undergone; but being taken to a small inn, and put under the care of several women, I was made comfortable with a change of clothes and a warm bed. [Footnote: I afterward learnt, that the two gentlemen who accompanied me from the States, had been seeking me with great anxiety all day. I persisted in not going to my mother's, and that was the reason why we applied to strangers for a lodging. For some time it appeared doubtful whether I should find any refuge for the night, as several small inns in the neighbourhood proved to be full. At length, however, lodgings were obtained for me in one, and I experienced kindness from the females of the house, who put me into a warm bed, and by careful treatment soon rendered me more comfortable. I thought I heard the voice of a woman, in the course of the evening, whom I had seen about the nunnery, and ascertained that I was not mistaken. I forgot to mention, that, while preparing to leave this house the next day, Mrs. Tarbert came in and spoke with me. She said, that she had just come from the government-house, and asked, "What are all those men at your mother's for? what is going on there?" I told her I could not tell. She said, "Your mother wants to speak with you very much." I told her I would not go to her house, for I feared there was some plan to get me into the hands of the priests. The inn in which I was, is one near the government-house, in a block owned by the Baroness de Montenac, or the Baroness de Longeuil, her daughter. I think it must be a respectable house, in spite of what Mrs. Tarbert says in her affidavit. Mrs. Tarbert is the woman spoken of several times in the "Sequel," without being named; as I did not know how to spell her name till her affidavit came out.]
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Received into a hospitable family—Fluctuating feelings—Visits from several persons—Father Phelan's declarations against me in his church—Interviews with a Journeyman Carpenter—Arguments with him.
In the morning I received an invitation to go to the house of a respectable Protestant, an old inhabitant of the city, who had been informed of my situation; and although I felt hardly able to move, I proceeded thither in a cariole, and was received with a degree of kindness, and treated with such care, that I must ever retain a lively gratitude towards the family.
On Saturday I had a visit from Dr. Robertson, to whose house I had been taken soon after my rescue from drowning. He put a few questions to me, and soon withdrew.