"Good news, Augustus," my mother exclaimed upon reading the message she'd just received from a friend in Dieppe. "Your father has escaped France in safety." We hugged each other, overjoyed to know that he'd avoided the inevitable fate, which, as an aristocrat, would have befallen him at the hands of the purging Republicans. Then a look of distress crossed her face. "But until we get news from England to enable us to join him there, I hardly know where we can look for refuge. I suppose we're guaranteed a temporary home, for my younger sister, Agatha, is Abbess of the convent of St. Claire, but now there is talk of suppressing convents and priests altogether. My other fear pertains to you, my dear boy," she said, wringing her hands. "Taking refuge and protecting you from danger is one thing; but how to smuggle you, a young boy of seventeen, into a convent full of young nuns is a perfect puzzle to me." "Nonsense, Mother!" I exclaimed. "Before the convents are suppressed, we'll be in safety in England, and as for getting me snugly into the convent, we're about the same height and resemble one another, so you must dress me up the best way you can and introduce me as your sister, or niece, or friend, or something or other." "You are impudent for imagining any such idea," replied my mother, laughing, "but you forget one thing. It will be impossible to deceive my sister, Agatha." "Try, anyway," I said, "and if the worst comes to the worst, we must let her into our secret and trust to her kindness." "Your plan is bold, if not rash, but as I can't think of anything else, we'll try it," she agreed with some misgivings. "Let me see," she continued in a musing tone, "I'll present you as the niece of your father's wife, but even then Agatha may have her suspicions, but we'll risk it." She wagged a finger at me. "Mind you don't look so bold, and stride so wide in your walk as you usually do, and I'll dress you suitably tomorrow morning." I shook my head. "We don't know what may happen this afternoon or tomorrow morning.
