Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

92
THE ATTEMPT
^ lafe of lj)£ f ast Cfnturg.
Chapter IV.
Acting on this determination, Catherine had seen her old friend, and listened to
her history, of which we need only give a rapid sketch. After receiving Catherine’s last
letter, Agnes had revealed her state of mind to her confessor, and had then been
subjected to cruel fasts and penances, till, worn out and longing for sympathy, she had
managed to escape from the Convent! Friendless and alone, she knew not where to
seek help, till the hand of Providence led her to the dwelling of a pious minister, to
whom she told her story, and since then she had been receiving great kindness from
him and his only daughter. They had rented the room for her in which Catherine
found her, and she had been able to support herself by embroidering (an art in which
nuns generally excel), till her own illness, and that of her benefactor, reduced her to
| her present destitute condition. Then she ventured'to make her whereabouts known
to her former pupil, trusting that she would, at least, receive relief from her most
pressing wants, confiding in her generosity to conceal her hiding-place from the
priests. Catherine’s tears fell fast when she heard the account which Agnes gave of
the many privations she had undergone, and readily promised to send her such an
allowance as would prevent her ever again suffering from the pangs of hunger.
On the subject of religion they touched but slightly, as the poor invalid was, as
Catherine saw, in too weak a state to endure any excitement, and was besides, as she
had feared, in very truth a heretic, to hold conversation with whom was deadly sin,
j from which grievous penances could alone absolve her. She even feared to show her
all the kindness that was in her heart, so she bade the desolate woman farewell, saying
that she dared not renew her visit, but faithfully promising to keep her secret. Agnes
thanked her in broken accents, and as she pressed her hand at parting, murmured,
“ When I am gone, which cannot be long now, 0 ! sometimes think of your poor old
friend; and may you yet experience the joy I now feel.” She then slipped her rosary round
her neck, saying, “ I have no need of that now; but keep it for my sake, even should
it become to you (which I pray it may), as it is to me, a useless ornament.” As Miss
Campbell was leaving the room, she met a lady entering, and turning round, saw the
sick woman’s face lighted up with such pleasure, that she at once concluded her to be
the clergyman’s daughter, who had left her sick father for a time to cheer the cheerless