My mental anguish, and the dreadful scenes in which I had been an actress, advanced the period of my labour. In solitude and misery, abandoned by all, unassisted by art, uncomforted by friendship, with pangs which if witnessed would have touched the hardest heart, was I delivered of my wretched burden. It came alive into the world; but I knew not how to treat it, or by what means to preserve its existence. I could only bathe it with tears, warm it in my bosom, and offer up prayers for its safety. I was soon deprived of this mournful employment: the want of proper attendance, my ignorance how to nurse it, the bitter cold of the dungeon, and the unwholesome air which inflated its lungs, terminated my sweet babe’s short and painful existence. It expired in a few hours after its birth, and I witnessed its death with agonies which beggar all description.

Clare. The statue was removed from its pedestal, though how I knew not. The nuns afterwards raised an iron grate till then concealed by the image, and let it fall on the other side with a loud crash. The awful sound, repeated by the vaults above, and caverns below me, roused me from the despondent apathy in which I had been plunged. I looked before me: an abyss presented itself to my affrighted eyes, and a steep and narrow staircase, whither my conductors were leading me. I shrieked, and started back. I implored compassion, rent the air with my cries, and summoned both heaven and earth to my assistance. In vain! I was hurried down the staircase, and forced into one of the cells which lined the cavern’s sides.