driver to take him somewhere; the name of the street, however, he
failed to hear, and he felt chagrined to see the neighboring
cab-stand completely deserted. "Now or never," he thought, "am I to
attain the object of my visit," and he dashed madly along the street
after the vehicle which was travelling at the rate of ten miles an
hour; several times he passed a cab-stand and would fain have taken
a fresh horse in pursuit, but he was afraid that while doing so he
might lose sight of the sleigh he had followed so far; or confound
it with another vehicle, for they were now passing through the
centre of the city towards the west end of St. Antoine street.

Past terrace after terrace they flew, till Mr. Hill was nearly faint
and breathless, when a sudden turn to the right brought them to the
foot of a hill, now Guy street, up which the carter walked his horse,
and gave the half dead pedestrian time to recover his breath. When
they had proceeded about a quarter of a mile up the hill, the carter
drew up at the Nunnery on the left side of the road, and Mr. Bennett,
alighting, rang the bell. A sliding panel was immediately pushed
aside, and a hooded sister held a few moments conversation with the
visitor, on which the door was opened, and he was admitted. Hill,
who had been standing in the shadow of the porch, entered unnoticed
at his brother's heels, the janitor being under the impression that
they had come in the sleigh together. Walking along a dark corridor
they came to a stairway, down which their guide preceded them into
the basement; here Hill took a favorable opportunity to turn aside,
still keeping his eye on the others till they arrived at the end of
the passage and entered a large room where several old men were
congregated, some chatting in groups, others smoking or reading
lazily. In one of these, with emotions which cannot be described,
Hill recognized his father from whom he had so long been separated.