CHAPTER XV.

_AT LLANTHONY AGAIN._

IN the month of August, in the year 1885, I found my way back to Llanthony. It was dark when I arrived at the monastery, and on reaching it I seemed, for the first time, to realize all this return implied, and I now trembled at the thought of going into the convent. I walked round about the building for some time, and then looked in at the kitchen window. The first sight that came to my view was the Novice-mistress’s face, and that of Mother Ermenild, whose face and eyes, seemed swollen with crying. It was now 9 o’clock, and I was wondering as to the best course for me to take. I dared not go into the convent, I could not stay outside all night, and of course I did not like to go to the monastery. Of these three evils, I chose the latter, for I was not afraid of Father Ignatius. He was always very kind to me, and would not have changed, had it not been for the influence which the Mother Superior exerted over him.

To the monastery porch I went, and pulled the bell. A monk, whose face I could not see, came down, and I asked for Father Ignatius. To my surprise, I discovered that it was the reverend Father himself who was speaking to me. He was very kind, but told me I must go to the convent. I told him I was too frightened to go. He then asked me what I had come back for, if I was afraid to go to the convent. I told him that I had intended to re-enter, but when the moment came I had not the courage. He then took me into the Church, giving me the opportunity of telling him why I had gone away. He did not give me one word of blame, except about my going to Feltham, and was most kind. He then left me, and sent the Novice-mistress to me, who did not say much; but the tone of her voice seemed to send a chill through me. The day after, the reverend Father again saw me and was very kind, and told me he had given orders that I was to be treated with the greatest kindness. For some few days accordingly I was kindly treated, and soon, at my own request, I was received as a postulant. I did not object to begin the life again from the lowest step; in fact, I believed more firmly than ever that “the nun’s life is the very highest and nearest to God that any human being can live on earth.” It was on a Sunday that I was received back as a postulant. There were several strangers in the Lady Chapel, and a clergyman from Hereford.

On entering the church I saw on the altar steps a _funeral pall_, and the black altar hangings that are used for the dead. A cold shudder ran through me as I wondered what they were there for. At last Father Ignatius and his brother monks came in and sang the “Adoremus in æternum sanctissimum Sacramentum” (“Let us for ever adore the most holy Sacrament”). Ignatius then turned to the grille gates that divide the monks’ choir from that of the seculars, and gave out that before the little ceremony, which was presently to take place, it might be advisable to give a little explanation of the cause thereof. He said:

Our dear little sister has incurred excommunication by holding communication with excommunicated members of our Order, _i.e._, people who have been cut off from our Society, etc., etc.

The gates were then opened, a cloth was spread, and I was told to prostrate myself upon it. The burial pall was then placed over me, and some prayers were muttered. On rising, Father Ignatius gave me the blessing, and the excommunication I had incurred was taken off me. I then went through the same postulant’s service that I had gone through nearly seventeen years before. After this Father Ignatius preached a sermon, in which he highly praised me, saying that I had endured great temptations, which had caused me to leave the convent, and that he only wondered I had not left before, but that now I wished to return; and he concluded by saying, “We hold out a loving hand to her, for our dear sister has humbled herself, and she shall be exalted.”

After this, I was again admitted into community, and the Lady Prioress was for a time kind to me.

On September 29th I took novice vows again, and Father Ignatius promised me, if all went well I should receive the black veil in six months’ time. It was shortly after this that Ignatius went away on one of his preaching tours, and directly he had left the Prioress made me kneel at her feet, and in her old, terrible voice inquired whether or not I intended to submit to her, etc., etc. In wonder and surprise at the sudden storm that was bursting after so long a calm, I replied: “Yes, dear Mother, indeed I do.” She haughtily replied, “That’s a good thing; now we shall soon see.” From that moment she was just as severe as ever in her treatment of me. The more I submitted, the more tyrannical she became. She subjected me to all manner of petty insults and penances, even in the presence of little children. I soon felt convinced that it was quite useless for me to submit or even to attempt to live in the convent any longer. I could see plainly that she could never forgive me.

After a while I wrote a note to her, as I was not allowed to speak, in which, to the best of my memory, I used the following words:

If you will only let me rest in peace until Father Ignatius comes back, I will then ask his leave to go, as I am convinced you do not wish me to stay, and will never be satisfied, no matter how submissive I am. I am convinced also that if you go on treating me with such severity, I shall in reality become a lunatic, for my mind will not continue long to bear this heavy strain.

After this note she left me alone, and did not again worry me. When Father Ignatius came home a few days before Christmas, he sent for me on Christmas Eve. I went to him and said:

“Dear Father, I am very sorry, but I cannot live with reverend Mother. I do not wish to give up serving God, or to break my vows; and if you will send me to another convent, I will gladly go, or to General Booth (Ignatius was a great admirer of the Salvation Army). I don’t mind where it is so that I am under obedience, and serving God.”

He replied: “Well, I’ll think over the matter, whether to write to Mr. Booth about you, or to write to the Abbess Bertha, and to tell her that you are a very dear child of mine, who has been with me for a great many years, but that you cannot get on with this reverend Mother, and ask her if she will take you under her charge for a time.”

He spoke most kindly to me about it. I then asked him if I might come to Holy Communion on the next day (Christmas Day), to which he replied:

“Certainly not.”

Later on he wished me a happy Christmas, though he must have known that my heart was nearly breaking with sorrow and disappointment. I asked no more questions about my leaving, as he had promised to do all he could for me, and I implicitly believed him, and was content to wait patiently, asking no questions, striving to do my duty, as a sister, to the best of my ability.

One evening, soon after this interview, he sent me a note commencing, “Jesus only.”

“You are,” he wrote, “to take your habit off to-morrow; you ought to have done so weeks ago”; and he signed it “Ignatius, of Jesus, Abbot.”

This note surprised me, for I had been patiently waiting his pleasure all this time. Next morning there were not any other clothes put into my cell, so I was obliged to put on the nun’s dress again; but in order to show my willingness to obey, I omitted to put on my scapular. When the Novice-mistress saw me, she said:

“Go and put on your scapular at once. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, causing such a scandal in coming out like _that_.”

I knelt down and kissed the hem of her holy habit, and said:

“Mother-mistress, reverend Father said⸺”

But she would not let me finish the sentence, and interrupted me by saying:

“I know quite well what the reverend Father said; I read the note before you, and _when_ you are told to take your habit off you will do it, and not _before_. Go and put your scapular on.”

I obeyed in silence, and I now knew I should have to undergo a public scene. At 12 the bell for a visit to the blessed Sacrament tolled out, after the “Angelus” was sung in Welsh. Nuns, monks, boys and girls, and seculars, were all present in the Llanthony Church. Then Ignatius spoke:

“Sister Agnes, come down to the grating.”

In fear and trembling Sister Agnes obeyed. Then, in a sepulchral voice, Ignatius said:

“As in the days of old, after great long-suffering and forbearance of our loving God, His patience at last came to an end with His people, so at last, after great patience and forbearance on the part of her Superiors, they must ask Sister Agnes to take off her veil and habit, and lay them on the altar steps.”

I felt this so acutely, that I sobbed aloud:

“Will you please forgive me, dear Father, for all and whatever I have done wrong.”

After which, in the presence of all, I took off my veil, and laid myself down on the altar steps. When I had become somewhat calm, I realized that a trick had been played on me, and that my Superiors had made me pass through this ordeal in order to make others believe that I had been, so to speak, suddenly cut off by the will of my Superior, and not by my own free will.

In reality, I had quite of my own free will been waiting for Ignatius’s sanction, and the result of his letters to Mrs. Booth and the Abbess Bertha.

During the above scene I reminded Ignatius of his promise to write to the Abbess Bertha, but he replied:

“Yes, but that was before I knew you were not converted,—when I thought you were a child of God.”

Now I thought I had been converted some fourteen years ago, when I was made to realize so fully that Jesus Christ was my personal Saviour, and had determined, so far as I had light, “to show forth the praises of Him who had called me out of darkness into His marvellous light.” Surely, I thought, had I not been converted, I could never have endured all that I had suffered during those long years of misery! And had not Ignatius taught me that I could _best_ glorify Him who had washed me from my sins in His precious blood by being a true nun? Then I believed that this was the best way of glorifying God; but now I know that I was under a great delusion.

This scene took place on a Saturday. On Sunday Ignatius told me I must leave the convent before 7 a.m. on the following morning, giving to the reverend Mother orders to give me £2, and to supply me with all necessary clothing. I sent this message back:

“I do not need anything at all; but will the reverend Mother please let me have the box of clothes I brought back with me.”

After some hours the box was sent to me with my clothes all turned about, and with the following message:

“The reverend Mother was obliged to look over your clothes, to see what you wanted.”

I found that she had put two old table napkins full of holes, in the box, two old towels full of darns, and two coarse tea cloths (which treasures I keep to this day), a petticoat; and besides these she gave me permission to keep a new habit. I examined closely the contents of my box, and found that a dictionary, a quantity of fine linen and other things had been taken from it. I asked her for the linen, saying that I had bought it with money my brother had given me before I returned. She sent back this message:

“Tell her I have taken nothing but what belongs to me.”

I imagined she meant that as I had taken the vow of poverty, she had a right to give or retain whatever she liked. After I had taken my departure, I wrote for my things, but I never received an answer.

This was the second time I had left convent life, which had so often been described to me as “angelic.” I had endured quite enough of its misery.