"Then you like to live with your father?" said she. I
told her I did, for then I could do as I pleased, without
the fear of punishment. She said that she did not like
to live there any better than I did. I asked her why she
did not go away, if she disliked to stay. She replied,
"I should like to go away well enough, if I had any
friends to go to; but my father and mother are both dead,
and I have no home but this; so you see I must stay here
if they wish me to; but there is one consolation; if we
are good girls, and try to do right, they will be kind
to us." I made no further remark; but the moment we
returned to the house she told the Superior what I said,
taking good care not to repeat her own expressions, and
leaving the Superior to infer that she had made no reply.

I saw at once by the stern look that came over the lady's
face that she was very angry; and I would gladly have
recalled those few hasty words had it been in my power
to have done so. She immediately left the room, but soon
returned with Priest Dow. His countenance also indicated
anger, as he took hold of my arm and led me to a darkened
room, in which several candles were burning.

Here I saw three scenes, which I think must have been
composed of images, pictures, and curtains. I do not
pretend to describe them correctly, I can only tell how
they appeared to me.

The first was an image of Christ on the cross, with his
arms extended as we usually see them in pictures. On his