lous to every thing I had urged, tending to convince her of the duplicity practised against me. This was no time, however, for words; I was requested to hasten in packing my trunks, as a person waited for me in the parlour. I had no doubt but that this was my father, and my agitations scarcely permitted me to waste a moment. One of the mothers assisted me; I took a hasty and incoherent leave of the community; slid a remembrance into the hand of the lay sister, and, with trembling impatience, run to the parlour, where I beheld—not my father, but a stranger.
I gave a scream, and sunk back in a chair, gasping with terror at my disappointment, uttering something about my father.———"Here, Madam," said the stranger, giving me a slip of paper: 'this will satisfy you as to my commission." I snatched the paper, and glancing my eyes over it, saw it was the writing of my father, with only these words: "Come to me, my dearest Louisa, I am at
