It was thought desirable to get the testimony of the mistress of the house where I spent the night after my escape from the nunnery, as one means of substantiating my story. I had been there the day before my visit to the house of Mr. Grant, accompanied by a friend, and on my first inquiring of her about my nunnery dress, she said she had carried it to the Superior; speaking with haste, as if she apprehended I had some object very different from what I actually had. It now being thought best to summon her as a witness before a magistrate, and not knowing her whole name, we set off again towards her house to make inquiry.
On our way we had to pass behind the parade. I suddenly heard an outcry from a little gallery in the rear of a house which fronts another way, which drew my attention. "There's the nun!" exclaimed a female, after twice clapping her hands smartly together, "There's the nun, there's the nun!"
I looked up, and whom should I see but the Irishwoman, who had taken so active a part, on several occasions in my affairs, on account of her friendship for my mother—the same who had accompanied me to Longeuil in a boat, when I set out for New York, after making arrangements for my journey. She now behaved as if exasperated against me to the utmost; having, as I had no doubt, learnt the object of my journey to Montreal since I had last spoken with her, and having all her Catholic prejudices excited. She screamed out: "There's the nun that's come to swear against our dear Father Phelan. Arrah, lay hold, lay hold upon her! Catch her, kill her, pull her to pieces."
And so saying she hurried down to the street, while a number of women, children, and some men, came running out, and pursued after me. I immediately took to flight, for I did not know what they might do; and she, with the rest, pursued us, until we reached two soldiers, whom we called upon to protect us. They showed a readiness to do so; and when they learnt that we were merely going to a house beyond, and intended to return peaceably, consented to accompany us. The crowd, which might rather be called a mob, thought proper not to offer us any violence in the presence of the soldiers, and after following us a little distance, began to drop off, until all had disappeared. One of the soldiers, however, soon after remarked, that he observed a man following us, whom he had seen in the crowd, and proposed that instead of both of them going before us, one should walk behind, to guard against any design he might have. This was done; and we proceeded to a house near the one where I had found a refuge, and after obtaining the information we sought, returned, still guarded by the soldiers.
All our labour, in this, however, proved unavailing; for we were unable to get the woman to appear in court.
At length it was found impossible to induce the magistrates to do any thing in the case; and arrangements were made for my return to New York. While in the ferry-boat, crossing from Montreal to Laprairie, I happened to be standing near two little girls, when I overheard, the following conversation.
"Why do you leave Montreal so soon?"
"I had gone to spend a week or two; but I heard that Antichrist was in the city, and was afraid to be there. So I am going right home. I would not be in Montreal while Antichrist is there. He has come to destroy the Catholic religion." I felt quite happy when I found myself once more safe in New York; and it has only been since my return from Montreal, and the conviction I had there formed, that it was in vain for me to attempt to get a fair investigation into the Hotel Dieu Nunnery, that I seriously thought of publishing a book. Under some disadvantages this volume has been prepared, and unfortunately its publication has been delayed to a season when it will be difficult to transmit it promptly to all parts of the country. I am sure, however, that in spite of all, no material errors will be found in it uncorrected, though many, very many, facts and circumstances might have been added which would have proved interesting. Indeed I am persuaded, from the experience I have already had, that past scenes, before forgotten, will continue to return to my memory, the longer I dwell upon my convent life, and that many of these will tend to confirm, explain, or illustrate some of the statements now before the public.
But before I close this volume, I must be indulged in saying a word of myself. The narrative through which the reader has now passed, he must not close and lay aside as if it were a fiction; neither would I wish him to forget the subject of it as one worthy only to excite surprise and wonder for a moment.