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 Preface vii

between ideas are described in marginal notes-they identify the principles by

number. The thumb tabs help you visually identify the principle noted and move
to it quickly.
Communication is a lifelong activity, so this text offers a systematic approach
to developing your abilities over time. As you use the book, we welcome your
feedback, responses, and suggestions.

To the Instru cto r

This textbook has been designed with the engineering student and working engi-
neer specifically in mind. We recognize that many other students engage in profes-
sional writing activities, and our intention is not to diminish their needs; however,
the needs of the engineer to write and communicate within his or her discipline
and from that discipline to a broader audience present a unique communication
challenge. It is a challenge that has occupied our teaching energies for more than
15 years.
The text is intended to accompany assignments designed by instructors for
their specific courses. In our experience, we find that engineering students much
prefer realistic assignments. Engineering schools across North America have
responded to this need in different, creative ways. One of the most natural ways
to incorporate communication is in design courses. While these have often been
fourth-year capstone courses (and we have certainly been involved in many of
those), design is being taught more and more often across the curriculum, often
with actual clients from the community. Problem analyses and explorations into
potential research areas also provide opportunities for communication instr uc-
tion. It is vital that instr uctors find unique and meaningful assignments for their
particular students. In this way, instructors become vital participants both in the
making of meaning for their students and in the making of this text. Our hope and
objective is that this text will become a trusted resource found on the desks of stu-
dents and engineering practitioners alike. Bringing the principles presented here
into the working practice of writers is a goal we aspire to, and we invite you to join
us. \'ve welcome your participation, feedback, and suggestions. We hope you will
find this book as valuable in your teaching as we have found it valuable to write.
Publisher's Preface

From the Publisher

Oxford University Press is proud to introduce the second edition of Engineering Cornmunication:
Frorn Principles to Practice. Designed to guide engineering students through the process of writing
polished and professional documents, the text is organized around 18 principles of clear commu-
nication that can be adapted and applied to a variety of communication tasks, thus ensuring that
students have the tools they need to develop superior writing and presentation skills.
This new edition of Engineering Cornmunications retains the hallmark features of the first
edition.

"LINK" boxes point to

0:, LINK tty prmdpks for m-ulng ffld cd,dng. 1bt fin1 1wo 1111«1our h.uid!ing
other parts of the book ~fll'lN>.._i.o... (J( w, t>'diNCII)(, ,,..-hik tli,r tffl'l.t;illitl~ IW() follow from !ht lir'U , ....,MhOW·

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summarize each of the Principle 13: Eleva.ting Verbs
18 key principles of clear
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topic under discussion.

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Cot.sldn 1bt folcl...tng IWD u:atnpl<'ll !Ml int«npc: to cxprcu. the A~

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 Publisher's Preface ix

Authen tic writing samples throughout the book clearly demonstrate how each principle can be
applied to everyday communication.

M ETALLURGY/COM MERCIAL
PROJECT STATUS REPORT
P2
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x Publisher's Preface

A series of appendices cover the fundamentals of sentence structure, verbs and verbals, modifiers,
joiner, punctuation, and fallacies.

Appendix A
Core Sentence Components: Clauses

1he ~s:ic urti1 of wtinen co.n,nuo.katiott Is the d ouse. 1he clause cooles
ln II number of varlalioos. but what disdnguisJ)es: I.he dause as a W'l.it ts
tha.1 it rons:lsu oftwo essenlla.J e,,omponents:: a s"bj«t and a pn-di'care- tJ,111
ts.. 11 has an 11ttlo11 (ro11tal11ed In the predkate) and some a.ctor dolng tha.1
11ttlo11 (the subject).

Building Blocks of the Clause: The Subject and

the Pxedicate
The mb)tt:t of II clause is generJ.!ly a noun. a pronoun. or a 11:une (also
known as II proper noun). In grade school, some of us leatned I.hat a 00 LINK
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cbuse

I smashed the computer

"I" is doing lhe aclion. The subjcc1 ma)' consisl or multiple pC'rsons,
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or
the tC'Cch•cr that ae1ion ("lhc comput('r"). The ttcciwr o( an act.On is
called an obj«z.
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Mo1<Stcm9S~~

lfl add 10 the clause. I do noc d,ange b:s fund:une1111al components:

on Wednesday motnlng, Nadja and I smashed the defectfve

comptAe< with blue baseball bats
 Publisher's Preface xi

The second edition of Engineering Communication contains several new features designed to h ighlight
current trends in the field of engineering communication and offer practical support for students.

r Try This
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.................,.,IN. A Brief Primer on Ethics for the
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xii Publisher's Preface

Online Material
Engineering Cornmunication: Fron1 Principles to Practice is supported by an exceptional array of
ancillary materials all available on the companion website: www.oupcanada.com/ lrish2e

• An Instructor's Manual includes in-class exercises, writing exercises, and new guidelines on
how to develop and adopt an engineering communication program.
• PowerPointslides support classroom learning by summarizing key points from each chapter.
• An Im age Bank features all the figures and tables from the text for use in classroom presen-
tations and lectures.
• Case Studies present examples of successful and unsuccessful engineering communication
for students and instr uctors to analyze and discuss.

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Introduction

ngineers write. They write to one another. They write to gover nment
E agencies, to clients who may or may not be engineers, to the general
public. They write instr uctions, code, explanations, proposals, scholarly
Since engineering
communication must
be so clear and well
documents. Engineers write meticulous project repor ts that may never structured, it can be
actually be read-unless, of course, a problem emerges, at which point a model for all writers
all documents are examined thoroughly to assess liability. and speakers.
Engineers also speak. They talk to one another informally, throw ideas
around, help, instruct. They talk to one another in more structured ways as
team members for various projects. They speak to clients, give presentations
for proposals, and design reviews. They speak at conferences and may be
called upon to comment on events in the news or cases in the courts.
Engineers draw. From quick sketches on the back of a napkin or
envelope to graphs and carefully scaled exploded assembly drawings,
engineers visually illustrate their concepts so that others can understand
and correctly implement their designs.
In shor t, engineers communicate. They impart information in print,
oral, and graphic form. But cornrnunication is more than just a unidirec-
tional signal. It is a system (see Figure I.I ). A message does not simply

•
A
Sender

• ...........
A
Result or
~ Effect

Receiver

Figure 1.1 Engineering communication achieves a result that can be observed to

determine its effectiveness.
2 Introduction

travel from sender to receiver; rather, it achieves an effect. The sender

is responsible, therefore, to determine the intended effect and whether
that effect is achieved for the receiver. If not, a new signal must be sent
to adjust the outcome. The effects of communication influence people's
livelihoods, safety, and health. With such significant consequences,
engineers are concerned with more than just being straightforward,
honest, and trustworthy. They must communicate complexity in ways
that are comprehensible and accurate to ensure people's and organiza-
tions' economic wellbeing, safety, and health.
Communication can be considered an enemy or a process or a
weapon, depending on the individual and the situation. When they
arrive in engineering, many students consider communication to be
the first-an enemy to be fought or avoided if at all possible. However,
over time they learn to use it as a process that can achieve many things:
a milestone in assignments, a cover letter that helps them get the job, a
proposal that wins a contract. This is the view of communication taken in
this textbook, and it is this view that we feel is the most productive. Like
any process, communication not only requires some basic instructions
but also can be optimized. This book is about the optimization-the use
of principles that will improve effectiveness.
However, it must also be said that communication can be used as
a weapon. Engineers are justified in being wary of cunning argument,
unsupported claims, or emotional pleas that convince for the wrong rea-
sons and can have results that are undesirable, dangerous, unethical, or
illegal. The principles in this book are intended to support the scientific,
objective, and ethical communication standards of engineering.
In a world in which everyday language is almost overwhelmed by
political spin and advertising hype, engineering communication repre-
sents a valuable alternative: by its nature and responsibility, it must be
unambiguous and supported by evidence. In achieving these qualities,
engineering communication becomes a model for writing and speaking
in all fields. The case study on pp. 4-5 looks at how an engineer, pre-
senting his evidence in an unemotional, objective manner, was able to
convince people both within and outside his field of the seriousness of
a problem, which, as a result, was remedied despite the expense, thereby
averting a possible disaster.

Engineering Communication Is Unique

Engineers have Engineering enterprises combine science, technology, and mathematics in
been discussing
communication issues
order to create and improve life in the world. The breadth of this enter-
for half a century. prise puts particular demands on engineers, and for the last fifty years,
they have been actively endeavouring to improve the state of engineering
 Introduction 3

writing. Transactions on Professional Con1munication, a

quarterly journal published by the IEEE (see Figure I.2), · - · TRANSACTIONS ON

-·- ---- -··

dates back to 1957, and in post-secondary education, COMMUNICATIONS
engineering schools have been leaders in developing
programs to teach written and oral communication.
·-·--
Literature on engineering communication, ----
==i=:::::== :::: ·-·- --
reinforced by our experience in teaching in an engineer- ·--·
------- --- ·- -
t:::rr.•:O,;:.:J'C.-.. - - - - - - ···= =
:.=::.::::.- '6 ---------.+.,:::':;:;·:::. :
ing school, reveals a characteristic par ticular to the way
-·- -
-~- ...
engineers communicate: whether consciously or instinc-
tively, engineers seem to have an ideal standard against - --
----·-----
t:":I,.'=!:,!.:.==--
~-- ..
which they evaluate their communication. According to .··= ::
this ideal, communication must be objective, clear, and .. ---·.1.: :
-·- •·--.·.•.: =
precise. Objectivity is as central to engineering com-
munication as science is to engineering practice, and --
:.::.,.""':;:':".."=c.::=-~
- - -..·---re:...,_._,____ -
the requirements of scientific cliscotuse apply as well to -·--
-----
-- ~.-,:;,. :. :::-- ·--·-.
engineers. Statements are typically backed by data that
can be experimentally repeated.
..l-~
..~ ..~------
..:,=-
-- - ----
' ; ' ~........ _

=-='·-----····
._ _ · · - ·lffi--··
.. _
';.rr,.z
_.,.
~)· -- •.:..
... ..
Engineering writing differs from science writing,
however, in that while scientists focus on presenting Figure 1.2 An early issue of the IEEE's
their finclings, engineers focus on implementing their Tronsoctlons on Communications (© 1974 IEEE).
discoveries, innovations, and solutions. Such imple-
mentations are often carried out by others who must be able to understand
not only what the engineers have discovered-whether devices, systems,
materials, or mechanisms-but also how to take those discoveries to the
next stage of development. So, the implementation of engineering designs
and solutions necessarily incorporates other sectors, such as business,
manufacturing, government, the military, and the public. Therefore, pre-
cision, or Jack of ambiguity, is vital in both developing understanding and
limiting liability.
As a direct result, the engineering student must not only master the
general skills of communication-fluency in grammatical conventions;
ability to organize sentences, paragraphs, and documents; and ability to
speak clearly-but also recognize the unique characteristics of the com-
munication in her or his discipline. The engineering student must foster
a professional voice. Though this process occurs partly in the workplace
and par tly at school, employers often expect students to come equipped
with significant ability before they enter the workforce.

Becoming a More Effective Communicator

Is Not Straightforward
Improving communication skills requires patience and perseverance.
Communication is an individual process; we each do it a unique way.
A textbook, a course, a supervisor can help only to a cer tain degree. In
4 Introduction

William LeMessurier and Clear

Eng ineering Langua ge
The facts of the case
In 1977, a novel work of architecture and eng ineering, Citicorp Center, opened in
Manhattan. The office tower, pictured in Figure 1.3, was built on a corner lot owned and
occupied by a Lutheran church. The church agreed to the new structure, provided that
Citicorp rebuild the church as a freestand ing unit on one corner of the site. In order
to have the tower occupy the entire block, architect Hugh Stubbins and structural
consultant William J. (Bill) LeMessurier (pronounced le may ZOOR) designed a building
that would cantilever out over the church. It was supported by four massive pillars, each
located in the centre of one of the outside walls rather than at a corner, and by diagonal
braces along the outside walls.
In 1978, LeMessurier received a call
from an engineering student who was
wondering about the location of the pillars.
The student said that a professor of his
believed they were in the wrong place and
that the building would therefore fall down.
This turned out to be a good example of
a syllogism, albeit based on an inaccurate
premise:

1. The pillars of Citicorp Center are

in the wrong place.
2. If the pillars are in the wrong
place, the building will fall down.
3. :. Citicorp Center will fall down.

LeMessurier pointed out to the student

that the pillars in Citicorp Centre were not
in the wrong position; they were just in a
novel position. However, in researching
Figure 1.3 Citicorp Building in midtown
his answer to the student, LeMessurier Manhattan. The building cantilevers out over
discovered, much to his dismay, that St Peter's Lutheran Church. Photo 2005 by
there was a significant problem with the Piero Scaruffi. www.scaruffi.com.
build ing's structure. In his original plans,
the joints for the wind braces were supposed to be welded; in the actual structure, as
a cost-saving measure, they had been bolted. Normally, bolts would have been strong
enough, but LeMessurier discovered that in the case of what is known as a "quartering
wind"- a wind hitting the bu ilding at a 45-degree angle- the bolts were not reliable.
In fact, there was a statistical probability that at least once every 16 years, New York
City would be subject to the kind of storm that could destroy the Citicorp office tower.
 Introduction 5

LeMessurie r's dispassionate tone

The situation offers a useful case study in engineering ethics and successful eng ineering
communication. LeMessurier decided to blow the whistle on the situation-essentially
on himself. An article in The New Yorker (Morganstern 1995) gives the pertinent details
while highlighting the effectiveness of LeMessurier's clear language in averting d isaster.
The article explains that once he had determined that the problem was grave
enough to require immediate attention. LeMessurier had to convince more than just
the executives of the company that owned the $175 million structure that millions more
had to be spent on repair no more than a year after the building opened; he also had to
convince the architect and the lawyers of his own company's liability insurance firm. This
is how the New Yorker article describes the meeting with the lawyers:

Being lawyers, not engineers, they were hard put to reconcile his d ispassion-
ate tone with the apocalyptic thrust of his prophecy. They also brid led at his
carefully qualified answers to seemingly simple questions. When they asked
how big a storm it would take to blow the building down, LeMessurier con-
fined himself to statistical probabilities-a storm that might occur once in 16
years.
When they pressed him for specific wind velocities ... he insisted that
such figures were not significant in themselves, since every structure was
uniquely sensitive to certain winds; an 85-mile-per-hour wind that blew for 16
minutes from the northwest might pose less of a threat to a particular building
than an 80-mile-per-hour wind that blew for 14 minutes from the southwest.

Notice the lawyers' difficulty reconciling LeMessurier's "dispassionate tone with

the apocalyptic thrust of his prophecy." The implication here is that LeMessurier was
undramatic and objective despite the fact that he was pred icting a possible disaster: the
catastrophic failure of a building, his building. Perhaps the lawyers expected that anyone
describing a possible failure would adopt an emotive and overblown form of persuasion
("apocalyptic ... prophecy"). However, this is not the way of effective engineering
communication, which in this case confined itself to "statistical probabilities."
Confining himself to statistical probabilities also allowed LeMessurier to maintain
credibility without dumbing down his message. To give exact numbers-when such
numbers did not, in reality, exist and were not, in reality, as relevant as probabilities-
would have been to distort his findings and, moreover, increase his liability. What if he
had identified a certain wind as a danger and a different wind had caused disaster?
Being too exact, he would have been wrong. He refused to pursue a discussion of
unlikely specifics; instead, he insisted on a more complex justification for repairs.
In the end, LeMessurier prevailed. The multi-million-dollar repair was undertaken,
and Citibank Center was made one of the safest buildings in the world. LeMessurier's
language, identified even in the New Yorker article as characteristic of engineering
communication, is a model of clarity, marked by dispassion, backing of claims with
evidence, and refusal to venture into unjustifiable speculations.
6 Introduction

the final analysis, each of us must find our own understanding of how
Discovering and having to improve and professionalize our communication skills. Good writing
to address weaknesses
requires ongoing decisions. Good decisions derive from understanding
in your writing may,
temporarily, cause your and practising relevant strategies.
confidence to sink and Lear ning to write well is similar to learning to play a musical instr u-
your communication ment. Playing an instrument involves a complex set of tasks, not only
to suffer. That is part of skill with the fundamentals of the instr ument, whether that's wind con-
the learning process.
Errors are a part of trol or fingering technique or some combination of them, but also skill
g rowth. with music, such as reading time signatures or understanding chord pro-
gressions; and judgment as to what sounds good.
When you were three, perhaps you sat at a piano and "played a song'.'
You thought you were making music-it seemed easy enough. But you were
incompetent. Then, if you were lucky, you were given some lessons, and
soon you could play such musical masterpieces as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little
Star" or "Row, Row, Row Your Boat:' At that point, you thought you were
good. You probably took every chance to offer a short recital to anyone who
would listen. But somewhere along the learning process, you hit a snag:
your ability to imagine the way the music should sound outstripped your
ability to play. At that point, suddenly, either you realized that learning the
instrument required significantly more commitment-practice, dedica-
tion, perhaps learning some theory-or you stopped. You became aware of
your incompetence. That is an impor tant moment in any learning process.
If you persisted, you probably reached a stage where you could
play music of greater complexity. You lear ned to handle the dynamics
of the piece, to make it sound the way you wanted. As you lear ned, you
incorporated both practical instruction on matters such as hand position
or wind control and theoretical infor mation on such matters as dynam-
ics, tone, and str ucture. \.Yith work, perhaps you became competent,
even good. At that point you could take up your instrument and play
without significant awareness of the complexity of the tasks you were
performing-reading music, making decisions about dynamics, running

'
...
..
~
. .-
• •
-- ~

Fig ure 1.4 The cycle of developing competence.

 Introduction 1

through complex progressions of notes, and getting the timing right.

You had become unconscious of your skill, your acquired co,npetence.
Of course, if you were suddenly to be made the soloist in a symphony
orchestra, you would become newly conscious of the competencies
required-competencies you may or may not have (see Figure 1.4). Indeed,
professional musicians, in whatever sphere, work continually to refine
their technique, to make sure that they can play with mastery whenever
they desire. If they stopped playing and practising regularly, their tech-
nique would quickly deteriorate. Their fingers would not move as readily
to the places they need to be, their musculature would lose its tone, and
their memory would no longer be able to recall the specifics of work they
had mastered. Skill can atrophy, sometimes very quickly.
Writing is similar. Toddlers often scribble and pretend to have
written words. Grade school children will write without differentiating
between fictional compositions and research assignments. Most peo-
ple don't realize how complicated the writing process can be until they
receive a failing grade on a lab report or similar high school or university
assignment. What had seemed self-evident suddenly becomes mysteri-
ous. \.Yriting becomes a self-conscious act that, like music, requires both
theory and practice before our competence and comfort become second
nature. This book provides the theory, in the form of principles, but aims
at practice. Your own writing and speaking tasks give you the opportuni-
ties to try out the theor y and develop a practice for clear, objective com-
munication. Practice, that necessary ingredient that promotes forward
momentum and prevents backward slide, is ultimately up to each writer
to pursue over time.

The Five Stages of Communication

Good writing requires ongoing decisions of all sorts. Some decisions
affect the entire document, with its whole purpose and overall message. Writing can be divided
Others affect only certain sections, some of which, like the introduction, into five stages of
decision making.
may be particularly critical. Still others occur at the paragraph, sentence,
and language level. Some decisions may have implications for all lev-
els. Regarded rationally, writing divides into five stages, as outlined in
Figure 1.5 on p. 8.
Of course, the actual act of writing can be much messier, requir-
ing us to backtrack from editing to drafting, or jumping ahead to proof-
read one section before the drafting of another is complete. However, one
major benefit of this scheme is that it creates definitions for the writing
work at hand. Many of us sit down to revise a document with the idea of
"trying to make it better:' The results of this are twofold. First, because
the instructions are vague and not measurable, we have no idea when,
8 Introduction
Pre-drafting
Determines requirements /
of communication tasks
Figure 1.5 Five stages of communication.
It may not be efficient
to begin an assignment
by sitting down at the
computer and simply
trying to start to write.
Drafting
Roughs in basic /
components
Revision
Refines organization /
of components
Editing
Refines flow of /
components
Proofreading
Puts on the
finishing touches
or if, we have completed the task. Second, without some defin ition of the
task at hand, sometimes the best we can manage is to simply correct a few
obvious errors, leaving unremedied the deeper, more difficult problems
that might affect the clarity and effectiveness of our document.
On the other hand, when we define specific tasks for the writing
process, we know when we have finished one and can go on to another.
This puts some boundaries on what often seems to be an amorphous pro-
cess and allows us to have a feeling of accomplishment rather than the
vague insecurity of maybe having-or maybe not having-improved the
document or talk. Moreover, we save ourselves needless work. It is ineffi-
cient, for example, to correct er rors before having revised-we could end
up cutting a section we have already spent time perfecting.
This text is organized in four main par ts. The first three parts develop
18 principles and the four th par t looks at application of the principles
to written, visual, and oral communication. In this way, we aim to help
engineering communicators develop a principled approach to communi-
cation and show models of how to put those principles into practice. The
18 principles in this book fit into the five-step process as follows.
Pre-drafting and Drafting
The first two stages are pre-drafting and drafting, and the first six prin-
ciples are particularly relevant for them. You can begin thinking about
 Introduction 9

the first three principles developed in Chapter 1 even before you put a
word on screen. That is the pre-drafting process: the thinking, planning,
outlining part of communication. Highly relevant principles are

• Principle 1: Finding Purpose. This helps us get started. Even

before considering what the first words might be, we can figure
out the specific outcome we are seeking for the document or talk.
That helps us organize, outline, even come up with words and
phrases that will start our document.
• Principle 2: bnprovising Genre. Another thing that helps us get
started is knowing the kind of document or talk we are supposed
to produce. Often the sections are quite expected, or are variations
of familiar types of communication. The word we use for these
expected kinds of communication is genre. Once we identify what
the genre is or is similar to, we can start mapping out sections and
their headings, according to what we know.
• Principle 3: Constructing Audience. Determining who will
be getting and acting on your message will help define many
preparatory and drafting tasks-the level of complexity, for
example. How much will you have to explain to bring the
audience up to an appropriate level of understanding to appreciate
your document or talk? Conversely, how much will you have to
research in order to make sense to an expert in this field?

The two principles discussed in Chapter 2 and the first in Chapter 3

help define what you do when you are actually writing the document or
presentation notes or speech.

• Principle 4: Developing Credible Argument. Communication

means making statements that have an effect and backing them Drafting Is the messy
up with clear explanations and evidence so that the person, stage where you
actually write the
people, or organization that puts the result into effect will appre- document
ciate the significance and requirements of what they are doing.
The structure that enables communication to achieve its effect is
an argu,nent. It begins with three elements: a claim, a justifica-
tion of the claim, and evidence that supports the claim. There are
more elements that you will have to consider in order to ensure
your credibility-they include the degree of certainty of your
claim and the kinds of counterclaims that might be made.
• Principle 5: Applying Rhetorical Patterns. A great deal of
communication can be handled by using known patterns for
the logic or the arrangement of the ideas. Engineers must
be able to produce sound physical and process descriptions,
10 Introduction

Five Drafting Strategies

Drafting is the stage in which the writer gets everything, roughly, down on paper.
Whether you start with an outline, a mind-map, or quickly jotted notes, you may find
one of the following five drafting strategies useful.

1. Go to pieces. Start with whatever is easiest. Do not concern yourself with

order-the outline will govern that later-just express the ideas.
2. Start in the m iddle. Writers often tend to get stuck because they can't think
of the right words to begin. By dodging the beginning, you can write what
you know.
3. Draft fast. Don't get it perfect. just get it down. Keep writing, even if you are
missing the word or a fact. Focus on the ideas, not the details. You'll revise
later.
4. Leave blanks or insert options. If you're missing information, leave a blank.
If you have two ways to explain something, or if you're unsure which would
be more useful, do both. You can choose later.
5. Reward yourself. When you complete a section or small task, give yourself a
short break, take a walk outside, or grab a slice of pizza. Any of these can be
a strong incentive.

definitions, comparisons, and other kinds of str ucture. Knowing

these expected frameworks, or patterns, facilitates quality and
completeness.
• Principle 6: Building Effective Introductions. Finally, you cannot
discuss drafting, the first stage of writing, without focusing on
the first thing the reader reads, and that is the introduction. In
many cases, it will not be the first thing that you draft, but until it
is complete, you are definitely not out of the first draft phase. As
with other rhetorical str uctures, understanding the objectives of
an effective introduction enables us to focus a document on the
needs of a reader without getting Jost in guesswork.

Revising
Every moment you
spend revising adds Revising may be the most overlooked and least understood aspect of the
value to your document writing process. It may also be the most vital and interesting.
and enhances your
understanding.
Etymologically, revising comes from the combination of two ideas:

I. re= again
2. visio = see
 Introduction 11

Thus, to revise is to see again, to see anew. Revising is the process in

which the writer looks at the document as a whole and clarifies its large
ideas. During revision, a writer may move entire paragraphs or sections,
cut pages, or add different material. That is why creating an outline at the
start of revision, if you have not created one already, is so helpful. It will
help you answer the three main questions you face at this stage of writing:

I. What is my main point? ( Or how am I synthesizing many details

into a coherent, unified claim?)
2. How am I supporting that point?
3. Is my support credible?

Principles 7 to 9, discussed in Chapter 3, facilitate the revision process

by helping you examine how effectively you have created and built a struc-
ture to help readers or listeners follow and connect your ideas in the way
you intend.

• Principle 7: Fra,ning Knowledge. Framing sets up what is to

follow. Once you have your basic ideas on paper, you revise to
make sure that the specific reader or listener you are communi-
cating with will be able to appreciate your ideas in the way you
intend. You have to set up your ideas, or "set the stage," for your
ideas so that the reader or listener responds as expected.
• Principle 8: I111posing Visible Structure. This principle shows
you how to continue the job of framing throughout the sections
of the document. Visible str uctures are the guideposts along the
way to ensure that the reader or listener doesn't get lost, or feel
lost, before you are able to complete your message.
• Principle 9: Making Transitions. If the structures are guide-
posts, transitional devices are on-ramps and off-ramps, which
enable smooth change from one level to another, from one idea to
another.

Chapter 4 covers not just the nature and variability of the para-
graph but the means of creating cohesion within the paragraph. At this
stage of the writing process, the writer deals directly with ideas, deter-
mining whether they are the right ideas or the wrong ideas, whether
they are best organized in one way or another. This part of the process
involves shaping information into the logical, coherent units we know
as paragraphs and sections. Doing so demands that we understand
our material with clarity. By using the principles of Chapter 4, we will
both guide our thinking and help our reader reach a clearer, deeper
understanding.
12 Introduction

• Principle I 0: Desig ning Paragraphs. A well-str uctured para-

graph introduces and develops a single, unified idea. Working
on paragraphs at the revision level helps you clarify what the
idea is and what its dimensions are. Thus, working to strengthen
the paragraph structure enables you to test (and if need be,
augment) your understanding of the concepts you are presenting.
• Principle 11: Moving fro,n Kno,vn to New. This is both a simple
and powerful technique for framing ideas at a sentence level.
Moving from known to new information helps an audience receive
and understand information, concept by concept, by building
new ideas on ideas that the audience has already grasped. Using
known to new allows the audience to understand the material
without gaps or abr upt breaks in logic.
• Principle 12: Modifying Matters. This principle helps the writer
or speaker determine what kinds of small adjustments can ensure
that the audience understands the information appropriately and
ethically. Levels of uncertainty may be difficult to express with
clarity and so these kinds of modifications often cause sentences
to become vague in themselves. Applying the principles of
modifying will allow you to strengthen your writing so that it can
be, at the same time, straightforward and careful.

Ed iting
Editing Is the stage in
which you work on the Editing is more subtle than revision. Yet, when perceptive writers work
now of your document to express ideas as clearly as possible, they become aware of instances in
or talk.
which the ideas themselves are not clear. Hence, editing may lead back
to revision.
Editing is largely concerned with style. When applied to writing,
style refers to readability. Readability is about more than just grammar
rules and sentence structure. In fact, a document can be entirely correct
in terms of grammar, sentence structure, and language usage but still be
entirely impenetrable or confusing, or both. Writers use the term flow to
describe good style. A document or talk that "flows" is one the reader or
listener is able to understand naturally and immediately, without having
to reread passages or ask clarifying questions.
The principles in Chapter 5 look at the placement of information in
a sentence, the flow of information from sentence to sentence, and how
this flow is structured for greatest impact.

• Principle 13: Elevating Verbs. Verbs work in communication:

they do things. So, writing becomes stronger when we put the
action in the verbs. Too often, we obscure action, meaning, and
Another random document with
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rewarded? If they had indeed served him aright, would he
not have stretched forth his hand to help and deliver them?

Thus I reasoned, contemning the generation of his

children, and wilfully shutting my eyes to the fact that the
Lord nowhere in the New Testament promises exemption
from sorrow, and the cross in this world as a reward for
faithful service. There is no person so open to the attacks of
Satan as a professed and enlightened Christian who is living
in known and wilful sin.

The first effect of my aunt's death was to throw me

more completely into the hands of Madame de Fayrolles. I
was very unwell after the funeral, and indeed kept my bed
for several days. As soon as I was able to be up, madame
came to me full of affection and of caresses. She informed
me that she and her husband were going to travel to Bath
and to several other watering-places, and that she had
arranged to take me with her. My health and spirits would
be all the better for the change, and my uncle had given his
consent.

"So you have nothing to do but to get ready, and we will

set out in a few days," she concluded. "Have you an
attendant, or shall I provide one?"

Now Mercer had waited upon me since my aunt's death,

my own damsel having gone to a more lucrative place. She
had tended me with the most devoted kindness, and I had
become greatly attached to her; but when I asked her
whether she would accompany me on my journey, to my
surprise and chagrin she flatly refused.

"But why?" I asked.

"Well, Mrs. d'Antin, the truth is this," said Mercer. "I am

fond of travelling, it is true, and I like you. You have always
been a good young lady to me. But—I mean no disrespect—
I do not like that French lady, and I like her attendants still
less. Besides—"

"Well, besides what?" I asked a little impatiently.

"Besides is always the real reason, I find."

"Besides, madame, I should not think it right," added

Mercer, turning very red, though she spoke with great
resolution. "I have lived too much for the follies of this
world as it is. I know I have a liking for them, and am
therefore best out of their way. Some words your blessed
mother said to me when she was here, and I was waiting
upon her, stuck in my mind and first made me think of
something beyond this life, and my poor dear lady's death
has been another warning to me about living for this world.
My sister has a ladies' boarding-school at Hackney, in which
I can invest my savings, and I can be a help to her in
teaching the ladies to work and in looking after their dress
and manners. She will be very glad to have me with her,
and I hope I shall be able to do some good in the world
before I leave it."

"Oh, very well," I said petulantly, "if you prefer teaching

cross and satin stitch to stupid girls, and seeing that they
comb their hair and put on clean linen, to attending upon
and travelling with me—"

"I do not prefer it, madam," answered Mercer. "I choose

it, because I know that I shall be putting myself out of the
way of temptation, and into the way of doing good. Besides,
madame, I am a simple unlearned woman who does not
know how to answer for her faith, and to say the truth, I
would not like to trust myself among a family all made up of
Papists."
 "You are very bigoted," said I, in a superior tone. "Don't
you suppose there are as good Christians among Papists as
you call them, as there are among Protestants? Don't you
believe a Papist can be saved?"

"As to that," answered Mercer readily, "that there are

those among them that live up to their lights, such as they
are, I don't deny, but I don't say nor believe that they are
as good Christians as they would be if their lights were
brighter. As to their being saved, that is no business of
mine. I know that the Scriptures are very hard upon
idolaters, especially those idolaters who might know better."

"But the Papists do not worship images," I said. "The

veneration of holy images is permitted because this
veneration is not paid to the image itself, but to that which
it represents."

"But the second commandment is explicit about that,"

returned Mercer. "That very veneration is forbidden,
because we are not to bow down to them. Besides if there
is nothing in the image itself, why do they venerate one
image so much more than another?"

"Oh, you are a great casuist," said I. "I wonder you do

not take orders instead of going into a school. The long and
the short of it is, you think it will be a fine thing to set up
for yourself and to have a parcel of young ladies to govern."

"You are mistaken, madame," answered Mercer, with

enough of dignity to make me ashamed of my petulance. "If
you were to remain here in London or to go into the
country, even down to that barbarous Cornwall, that my
poor dear lady dreaded so much, I would give up all
thoughts of going into the school, and stay with you as long
as you wished, and that for your dear mother's sake as well
as your own. But into the family of Madame de Fayrolles I
will not go. And I do beg and entreat you, Mrs. Vevette, to
think twice before you do so. Think of what your mother
would say—think!"

But the conversation was here interrupted by a call from

my aunt. She did not seem at all displeased when I told her
of Mercer's decision.

"It is just as well," said she. "Of course, if you wished

for the good woman, and she desired to come, I should say
nothing against it; but it would not have been comfortable
for her or you. But I wonder she should refuse so good an
offer."

"It was a case of conscience, I believe," said I. "She

was afraid of being converted."

"Oh, I understand. Well, petite, it is just as well. I shall

have no difficulty. You shall take my second woman, who
has been well trained and is an accomplished seamstress
and hair-dresser. So, Mrs. Mercer—" as that damsel entered
the room "you will not go with your young lady because you
are afraid of being converted. Does not that in itself show
you how weak your cause is, and how conscious you are of
its weakness?"

Madame spoke smilingly, and Mercer answered also

with a twinkle of the eye.

"If I might venture to put a case, madame?"

"Go on," said my aunt.

"Suppose, madame, one of your own family, a woman

neither very bright nor very learned, should be offered a
service in a Protestant family, where she would be likely all
the time to hear her own faith attacked by an accomplished
Protestant minister—what would your ladyship advise her to
do?"

"Fairly posed," returned my aunt, laughing good-

naturedly. "Well, well, I will not urge you. But at least
accept this little remembrance from me," she added,
drawing out a very elegant little étui, with pencil tablets and
all complete. "It will be useful to you and is valuable in
itself."

Mercer accepted the present with many thanks, and

retired.

"That is a good soul," said my aunt. "What a pity she is

not a Catholic? She might have a real vocation."

The next day I removed to the lodgings which my uncle

and aunt had been inhabiting for some time, and my uncle's
establishment was broken up. He gave me all my poor
aunt's wardrobe, except her most valuable jewels, and I in
turn bestowed upon Mercer such of the things as were likely
to be useful to her, together with a number of books of
devotion which had belonged to Aunt Jem's mother.

Mercer was profuse in her thanks, and we parted the

best of friends. I visited the good woman many years
afterward, and found her at the head of the school which
she had entered, and though an old lady, still hale and
strong, and ruling her little kingdom with a wise and
vigorous hand. I took from among her young ladies, one to
be waiting-gentlewoman to myself and my eldest daughter,
and I have never had reason to regret the choice.

I had written to my Lord Stanton asking permission to

stay for a while with Madame de Fayrolles, and received a
speedy answer, as some one from the neighborhood was
coming direct to London. My lord evidently wrote in a good
deal of irritation, and his letter was to the effect that he had
not the least objection to my residing with Madame de
Fayrolles since from all he could hear, she was a woman of
reputation. He only hoped she had no sons to be bewitched
—this sentence was scratched out, but I could read it. He
sent me some money for my private purse and would remit
more if I needed it. In short, it was plain that my lord
dreaded nothing so much just now as having me returned
on his hands.

Theo, on the contrary, who wrote at the same time,

gave me a most warm and pressing invitation to make my
home with her, as long as I pleased, and she begged me to
think twice before placing myself wholly in the hands of
Madame de Fayrolles. I shall not repeat her arguments,
though they were all good and wise. Indeed, I hardly read
them myself. I could not endure the idea of returning to
Devonshire on any terms.

I found a luxurious apartment prepared for me in the

house Monsieur de Fayrolles had taken for the season, and
here I remained for some two or three weeks, coaxed and
flattered to the top of my bent. Every means was used to
attach me to my new friends, and separate me from old
ones.

Neither my lord nor Theo said a word about Andrew,

and I had not heard a word from Tre Madoc in a long time. I
had asked Mr. Pepys about Andrew, and he admitted that he
had heard the story of his approaching marriage from
excellent authority, and believed it to be true.

From this time I became like one desperate. I put away

my French Bible, so dear as having been my mother's, and
the little brown English prayer-book she had carried off in
our hasty flight from the Tour d'Antin. I could not make up
my mind to destroy them, so I made them into a package,
sealed them up, and committed them to Mercer's care, from
whom I reclaimed them long afterward.

I read only the books of controversy and devotion

supplied to me by Father Martien. I began to use a rosary,
and to fancy that I found comfort and help in praying to the
virgin. I was quite ready to have made a profession of my
new faith at this time, but to my surprise and
disappointment, Father Martien put me off. He said I had
not had time to know my own mind or to receive proper
instruction.

The truth was, I believe, he did not think it would be

very safe either for my uncle or himself. There was in
England a growing jealousy of Roman Catholics and their
influence, a jealousy well founded enough in itself, though it
culminated afterward in the follies and wickedness of the
so-called Popish plot. It would be dangerous to have it
known that a young lady of good family, a ward of my Lord
Stanton's, had been induced to abandon the English for the
Romish Church.

This refusal, however, only increased my eagerness. I

really persuaded myself that I embraced all those dogmas
which I had been educated to regard with horror, as
monstrous and profane. My aunt, while greatly edified by
my devotion, was a little alarmed at it. It was at that time
no part of her plan to have me become a religious, as she
called it. She took me out with her a great deal, and paid
great attention to my dress and manners. Both she and my
uncle were very kind and indulgent, but they contrived to
keep me in a kind of honorable restraint—a restraint so
gentle that I never felt it at all.
 I was not permitted to visit by myself any of the young
ladies of my own age whose acquaintance I had made at
my Aunt Jemima's, and though my friends were made
welcome and treated with great courtesy, yet somehow
their visits gradually fell off, and I saw them no more.

In a few weeks we visited the Bath, as my aunt had

proposed, and remained for some time seeing a good deal
of company. From thence we went to Epsom, at which place
the king was residing, though he kept no court and had
very few about him, save the very most dissolute of his
courtiers, for he had by this time thrown off all pretence to
decency of conduct. It was at Epsom that Monsieur de
Fayrolles received a summons to return at once to France.
It seems he had some sort of command over the household
guards, from which command he had been absent longer
than his royal master approved.

My uncle received this notice in the morning at the

hands of Father Martien, who had come down with some
letters from the French ambassador. In the evening, my
gentlewoman came to me with a message desiring my
immediate presence in my aunt's room. I found her seated
beside her husband, while Father Martien stood behind her
chair. The faces of all three wore a very solemn expression,
and I trembled, I hardly knew why. My aunt bade me be
seated. Zelie placed a chair for me and then at a sign from
her mistress withdrew.

"Genevieve," said my uncle seriously, "the time has

come for you to make a decisive choice as to your future
conduct. We are obliged to return to France immediately.
Will you return with us, embrace the true Catholic faith, and
be to us as a daughter, or will you remain in this land of
heretics, and return to my Lord Stanton, or to his daughter
who has invited you?"
 "Nay, my friend, state the case fairly—that might not be
the alternative," said madame. "Vevette might undoubtedly
be married before we leave England, since Mr. Cunningham
has made application for her hand already. Besides, her
cousin, Mr. Corbet, is as we hear just about to return with
his bride, and I dare say they would not be sorry to give
Vevette a home."

This last news—I hope I do my aunt no injustice when I

say I believe she made it up for the occasion—decided me. I
was not a moment in saying that if monsieur pleased, I
would return to France with him.

"But if you return with us it must be as a Catholic," said

my uncle. "I do not profess to be bigoted, but I cannot, I
dare not, take an open heretic to the court of the most
Christian king."

"Mademoiselle has already confessed to me her desire

of being admitted into the bosom of our holy mother
church," said Father Martien. "Is it not so, my daughter?"

"It is so," I answered quite calmly and resolvedly. "I am

ready to make a profession at any time."

The priest and my aunt were loud in their expressions

of gratitude to all the saints. My uncle merely said:

"That settles the matter then. We shall go to London to-

morrow and from thence set out at once for Paris. There is
no time to consult my Lord Stanton, nor is there any need
of doing so since he has given his consent to your residing
with us."

The next day we went to London, where we remained

less than a week, settling up affairs, paying off servants and
tradespeople, and taking leave of our friends.
 I was in a high state of excitement, and it did not strike
me at the time, but I well remember now that I was hardly
left to myself a moment, and that care was taken that I
should never have the opportunity of speaking alone with
any of my Protestant friends.

My good Mercer came to see me, but she was not

admitted, nor did I know of her visit till long afterward.
There was no need, however, of all these precautions. I was
possessed of only one idea—to separate myself as far as
possible from Andrew, and to get out of the country before
he came into it. I felt as if I could have gone to the ends of
the earth to avoid him.

Besides I was delighted with the prospect of seeing

Paris and Versailles, and that court my aunt described to me
in such glowing colors. I conceived that I should be a
person of a good deal of importance, and even began to
have dreams of a grand alliance. As to love, I said to myself
it was all sentimental nonsense, just fit for boys and girls. I
had got over all that. In short, my heart was given to the
world. That was the god of my idolatry, and it paid me the
wages it usually bestows upon its votaries.

We were favored with a passage in a king's ship, and

therefore fared better than most people do in crossing the
channel, but we had a rough time. Every member of our
party was sick but myself, and I had my hands full with
waiting upon my aunt, who fell into all sorts of terrors and
fits of the nerves, and was sure we were going to be
drowned. However, we reached Calais in safety, and after
waiting a day or two to refresh ourselves, we took the way
to Paris.

Whether it was that I had been so long away from

France that I had forgotten how it looked, or that Normandy
had been in a more flourishing condition than the other
provinces, or finally, that I contrasted what I now saw with
what I had seen in England, I cannot tell; but certainly the
country looked terribly forlorn to me. There was little tillage,
and what there was seemed by no means flourishing; the
people had a crushed, oppressed, half-fed look which was
very sad to see. Even when the vintage was going on there
seemed very little rejoicing.

Once, taking a by-road to avoid a hill, we came upon

what must have been a flourishing vineyard a day or two
before, but the vines were crushed and torn from their
supports, and lay withering upon the ground, the beautiful
grapes were scattered and spoiled, while two or three
women with faces of blank despair were trying to rescue
some of the fruit from the general destruction.

"Oh, the poor people!" I exclaimed. "What has

happened to them?"

"A boar hunt probably," said my uncle indifferently.

"But why should that have wrought such ruin?" I asked.

"Because, little simpleton, the boar would as soon go

through a vineyard as anywhere else, and when he does it
is needful that the hunt should follow him, which is not very
good for the vineyards."

"And so for the sake of some great man's pleasure of an

hour or two the poor man's heritage is destroyed," said I
indignantly. "What a shame! What wickedness!"

"Tut, tut! Petite! Remember that we are not now in

England where every clown can bring his lord to justice, but
in France where nobles have privileges. But I wonder where
the owner is. Where is your husband, my good woman?" he
called out, as we came opposite the workers.

"Alas, monsieur, I do not know," answered the poor

woman, with streaming eyes. "Monsieur the marquis was
hunting yesterday and took a short cut through our
vineyard to arrive the sooner, and my husband was so ill-
advised as to utter some harsh words and maledictions
which the marquis overheard; so he bade the huntsmen
take him away and teach him better manners. Since then I
have not seen him, and Heaven knows what has become of
him. Oh, monsieur, if you would but intercede for us; I am
sure my husband meant no harm."

"He should be more careful with his words," returned

my uncle. "My good woman, I am not acquainted with your
marquis, and cannot therefore take the liberty of speaking
for your husband; but there is some money for you. Drive
on, postilion."

My heart was sick with the injustice and tyranny, the

effects of which I had just seen, but my aunt and uncle
seemed to think little of it, and indeed I saw enough more
sights of the same kind before we reached Paris. The simple
truth was and is, that in France the common people have no
rights whatever, but are absolutely at the mercy of their
lord. Their crops, the honor of their families, their very
lives, depend upon his humor, and how great soever may be
the wrong, there is no redress.

I had seen little of this sort of thing in Normandy. The

only great proprietor near the tour, besides my father and
Monsieur Le Roy, who were both Huguenots, was a
gentleman of great kindness, and one who made a
conscience of dealing justly with his people. I was heart-sick
before we reached our destination, and wished twenty times
I were back in England.

We arrived in Paris at last, and I found myself dazzled

by the splendid buildings and the grand equipages which
met my eyes on every hand. The streets, it was true, were
quite as dirty as London, but there was no fog or coal
smoke to obscure the air or blacken the house fronts. My
aunt was in the best of spirits at being once more in her
dear native city, but I could not help thinking my uncle
rather grave and preoccupied. As to Father Martien, he was
always the same under every circumstance, and I have no
doubt would have preserved the same calm countenance
whether he were watching the agonies of a heretic on the
wheel, or being himself served with the same sauce by the
Iroquois.

My uncle had a fine hotel in a fashionable situation, and

as a courier had been sent before us we found everything
ready for our reception. I was assigned a small room which
looked into a court, and had no exit but through my aunt's
reception-room. It was prettily furnished enough, but I took
a dislike to it from the first, because it reminded me of my
little turret-room at the Tour d'Antin, which I would have
preferred of all things to forget.

I had looked forward to Paris as a scene of gaiety and

splendor far beyond anything I had ever seen, and so it
was, but I very soon found that the gaiety and splendor
were not for me. It was not that my aunt meant to be
unkind; on the contrary, at that time she was amiability
itself, but in France a young lady of good family lives before
her marriage in a state of as much seclusion as if she were
in a convent. In fact, almost every French young lady is
placed in a convent at a very early age, from which she only
emerges to be married to the man not of her own, but of
her parents' choice, whom she perhaps never saw more
than twice and never a moment alone, till she was married
to him.

I could not complain of being treated as other girls

were, but I must confess I found the life a very dull one. My
aunt lost no time in securing for me the services of a music
and a dancing master, and she often took me out with her
in the coach, but I had no companions of my own age. I
was not at all well. I had been accustomed to a great deal
of exercise all my life, and that in the fresh air, and the
state of excitement in which I had been kept for such a
length of time began to tell on me.

I slept very little and was troubled by frightful dreams,

which almost always took me back to the Tour d'Antin, and
the dangers I had undergone there, or, what was still worse,
I read and worked and prayed with my mother, and then
waked to an intolerable sense of want and desolation. I told
Father Martien of these dreams. He looked grave,
pronounced them direct temptations of the devil, and said
he feared I had some sin or some concealment yet upon my
conscience which gave the evil spirit power over me. I
assured him that such was not the case; but he still looked
grave, bade me search my conscience anew, advised a
retreat, and gave me to read the "Four Weeks' Meditations
of Saint Ignatius."

This retreat and course of study were to be my final

preparation for the public profession which I was to make.
In the course of it, I secluded myself entirely in my room,
which was so far darkened that I had only light enough to
read. I fasted rigorously, saw no company, was allowed no
recreation, and no employment save my rosary and my
book of meditations. And such meditations—full of the
grossest and most material images of death and its
consequences—the decay of the senses, the desolation of
the sick-room and the dying-bed, the corruption of the
body, the flames and brimstone, the wheels and spits of
purgatory and hell! In the midst of all this, the penitent is
invited to pause and resolve seriously upon his or her
vocation, just at the time and in the state when she is most
incapable of judging reasonably of anything. No wonder the
book has been instrumental in leading so many into the
cloister.

I finished my month's retreat and was admitted into the

fold of the Holy Catholic Church, as she dares to call herself,
in the chapel of the king himself, who had taken a great
interest in my story. I should like to give my reader an
account of this important passage of my life, but in truth I
remember very little about it. I have an indistinct
recollection of knocking at a closed door and requesting
admission to the church, of various chants and prayers, of
censers and waxen tapers, but it is all like a confused
dream. In fact, I was already very ill, though nobody
suspected it. I recollect receiving a great many
congratulations, and being saluted by the king himself, who,
having been converted himself (save the mark), took a
great interest in all converts.

The next morning found me in the stupor of such a

fever as I had suffered in Jersey, and for two or three weeks
I lay between life and death, unconscious of everything. At
last, however, the disease took a turn, and I was
pronounced out of danger.

For some time longer, I lay quietly in my bed, slowly

gaining strength and the ability to think connectedly. I was
indeed like one waking from a long dream, and I began to
realize what I had done. All the instructions I had received
in my youth—the very psalms I had learned from my foster-
mother—returned upon me, and would not be put aside. My
eyes were opened, and I was compelled to see and to own
that I had deliberately sold myself to the world, and that
unless I could find a place of repentance—which did not yet
appear to me—I must reckon upon paying the price of the
bargain, namely, my immortal soul.

Little did my aunt and my nurse guess, while I lay so

quietly with closed eyes, what was going on within. I would
have given worlds to weep, but I had no tears. Neither
could I pray. My heart was dry as dust, and the unmeaning
repetitions which had served me instead of prayers now
inspired me with nothing but weariness and disgust. Oh,
how I hated that image of the Virgin which stood opposite
my bed, dressed in laces and satin, and wearing my own
mother's pearl clasp! I had myself given it away for this
purpose in one of my fits of devotion. If I had dared, I
would have crushed the simpering waxen baby under my
feet.

The stronger I grew, the more wretched I found myself.

I was obliged to go to confession, but Father Martien's
threats and cajoleries had no more effect upon me than to
make me hate him, as the one who had led me into the
snare from which I could see no escape, unless it were such
a martyrdom as my father's, or the slower hidden agonies
of a convent prison. For these I was by no means prepared,
and I well knew they were what awaited me if I allowed my
change of feeling to become known.

The king, as I have hinted, had been converted by the

jubilee which had taken place some years before. He was
still in the fervor of his first love, and as his spiritual guides
could not succeed in making him give up Madame de
Montespan and company, they compromised by urging him
on to more and greater acts of severity against the so-
called heretics. One might be an unbeliever even to denying
the existence of a God at all, but to be a Huguenot, or even
a Jansenist, was an unpardonable sin. Two or three great
men, indeed, who were necessary to him by their talents as
soldiers or statesmen, were allotted a sort of protection, but
even these soon found their lives unbearable, and either
conformed like Turenne afterward, or fled from the
kingdom.

For a young girl like myself, away from all near friends,
and, above all, one who had only lately conformed, there
would be no hope. Even a suspicion of relapse would lead at
once to a convent with all its possible horrors. No, there
was no escape. I had left my Lord, and he had left me. I
had denied him, and he would deny me. I must go on as I
had begun, and that to the bitter end.

It was not one of the least of my troubles that I felt all

my love for Andrew revive again. I began to doubt the truth
of the stories I had heard, and to wonder whether they had
not been invented for the very sake of entrapping me.
Doubt soon grew into conviction, and, reasonably or
unreasonably, I no more believed that Andrew was married
than that I was. No, he would return in a year—return to
claim me and to find that I was lost to him, to truth, and
heaven forever.

It was in the church where I was kneeling for the first

time since my illness that this thought came to me, and I
cast myself on the ground and groaned almost aloud. My
aunt observed the movement, as indeed nothing escaped
her eyes, and when she returned she remarked upon it,
saying that such a display of devotion, however
commendable in private, was not in good taste in such a
public place, and that I would do well to restrain myself.
 About this time Father Martien was called away, and I
made my confessions to a fat old priest at our parish
church, who, I am persuaded, used to doze through half the
time of confession and take snuff the other half. He was
very kind, however, and gave me easy penances and
plentiful absolutions. My religion had by this time become
the merest form, kept up to save appearances, but now and
then would recur the thought that perhaps Father Martien
was right after all, and if so why I was living in mortal sin, a
sacrilegious person for whom millions of ages in purgatory
would be of no avail. Thus I was tossed from one doubt to
another, and found comfort nowhere.

The discomfort of my mind could not but react upon my

body. I grew pale, sallow, and was miserably unwell. My
aunt lamented the loss of my beauty, and predicted that I
should never find a husband. A husband indeed was what I
now feared most of all. I determined that I would die before
I would accept one, and then came the thought that not
death would be the alternative but a convent. No, there was
no hope anywhere.

CHAPTER XIX.
ANOTHER CHANGE.
 WE remained in the neighborhood of Paris all that
winter, sometimes at Fontainebleau, sometimes in the city
itself, for, as I have said, my uncle had some office or
command which kept him about the court.

My aunt had her balls and assemblies, her grand

banquets and little suppers, and must have spent a great
deal of money. I rarely saw anything of this gaiety, though I
went out with my aunt in the carriage, and now and then,
when she had a small assembly, I was allowed to sit at her
elbow and look on, though I was not expected to speak
unless spoken to, and then only in the shortest, most
restrained manner.

Of the court I saw nothing. My aunt had hoped, I

believe, to procure some place for herself, but in that she
did not succeed. Still she was often at the court, and was
liked by the king for her wit and sprightliness. When she
was away, my only society was my maid Zelie, whom I had
never liked, and now thoroughly distrusted, believing her to
be a spy upon me, my aunt's lapdog and her parrot.

My only recreation was in reading the very few books

which were thought proper for a young lady, my music, and
my embroidery, and I only went out to go to church,
whither I was attended by Zelie or an older woman who had
been my aunt's nurse, and who, having been a Huguenot in
her youth and then converted, was of course doubly zealous
and devoted. Oh, to what a slavery had I brought myself!
With what impassioned longing I looked back to the days
when I used to climb the hill at Tre Madoc to attend to my
little school or run down to the beach to watch the pilchard-
fishing, and of those earlier times in Normandy when I
played with Lucille and David in the orchards, or helped to
pile up the golden and rosy apples for the eider-mill!

I would gladly have changed places with the poorest old

woman in Cornwall for the privilege of walking abroad
unfettered, and weeping my fill unwatched. I would have
given all the costly furniture of our hotel, had it been mine,
for half a dozen loose leaves of my mother's old prayer-
book, for it was one of my great troubles that I could not
remember the words of Scripture. I suppose it might have
been some odd effect of my illness, but while my memory
had become clear as to other things, it was in that respect
almost a blank. In the state of mind I then was, I regarded
this forgetfulness as a direct judgment from Heaven, and an
express proof and mark of my reprobation. I thirsted for the
water of life. I read again and again the few psalms and
meagre bits of scripture contained in my books of devotion.
That fountain was to be once more unsealed for me, but not
till I had drank my fill of the bitter waters and broken
cisterns for which I had forsaken it.

Meantime affairs were not going well with my uncle. I

was told nothing, but I gathered from things that I
overheard and from hints dropped in my presence that he
had lost the favor of his royal master in the first place by
outstaying his leave in England, and though he had hoped
to make his peace by the presentation of a new convert to
the Catholic faith, the offering had not been altogether
sufficient. Court favor is of all earthly things one of the most
uncertain.

My uncle had been a friend of the unhappy Madame de

Valliere, who, at this time under the name of Sister Louise
de la Misericorde, was striving to expiate her errors by a life
of more than ordinary austerity among the Carmelite nuns
of Paris. He had had the imprudence to speak