When their bargain was completed, Priest Dow called me
to him, saying, with a smile, "You are a stubborn little
girl, I guess, a little naughty, sometimes, are you not?"
Surprised and alarmed, I replied, "No, sir." He then took
hold of my hair, which was rather short, drew it back
from my forehead with a force that brought the tears to
my eyes, and pressing his hand heavily on my head, he
again asked if I was not sometimes a little wilful and
disobedient. I was so much frightened at this, I turned
to my father, and with tears and sobs entreated him not
to send me away with that man, but allow me to stay at
home with him. He drew me to his bosom, wiped away my
tears, and sought to quiet my fears by assuring me that
I would have a good and pleasant home; that the nuns
would take better care of me than he could; and that he
would often come to see me. Thus, by the aid of flattery
on one side, and sugarplums on the other, they persuaded
me at last to accompany the priest to the White Nunnery,
St. Paul's street, Quebec.

I was too young to realize the sad change in my situation,
or to anticipate the trials and privations that awaited
me. But I was deeply grieved thus to leave my father, my
only real friend, my mother being dead, and my grandfather
a heretic, whom I had been taught to regard with the
utmost abhorrence. Little, however, did I think that this
was a last farewell. But such it was. Though he had
promised to come often to see me, I never saw my father
again; never even heard from him; and now, I do not know