Illustrations of political economy, Volume 3 (of 9)Martineau, Harriet
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Illustrations of political economy, Volume 3 (of 9)
Martineau, Harriet
Didactic fiction, English; Political fiction, English; Social problems -- Fiction
“God has been very good to me and mine,” she said. “They tell me I have
not always said so; but I meant no mistrust. I may have been too much in
a hurry to go where ‘the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are
at rest:’ but it is all right now that I am really going at last. Thank
God! I can say to the last that He has been very good to me.”
She left her blessing for every one by name, and died.
Mr. Burke met the funeral train coming out of the churchyard, and
immediately knew Ned, long as it was since they had met.
“Your cousin Marshall’s funeral!” he exclaimed. “My wife and Louisa and
I inquired for her in vain, a long while ago, and supposed she had been
dead some time. She must have been a great age.”
“Eighty-one, sir.”
In answer to Mr. Burke’s inquiries how she had passed her latter days,
and in opposition to Ned’s affectionate report of her, a neighbour
observed, with a shake of the head, that she was awfully forsaken at
times.
“It was but the day before she died, sir, that she complained that the
Almighty had forgotten her, and that she was tired of looking to be
released.”
Ned brushed his hand across his eyes as he observed that her neighbours
were not capable of judging of such a woman as cousin Marshall, and not
worthy to find fault with what she let fall in her dark moments.
“My wife said at the time, however,” replied the man, “that it would be
well if a judgment did not come upon her for such words; and, sure
enough, by the same hour the next day she was dead; and not in a natural
way either.”
Mr. Burke smiled at Ned, who gravely observed that his cousin had lived
too late to be done justice to. By what he had heard her tell, he judged
that a hundred years ago she would have been honoured and tended in her
old age, and saved all she had suffered from fear of the parish, and
have had it told on her tombstone how many children she had bred up by
her industry. It would not be difficult, for that matter, to put up a
tombstone now; but where would be the use of it, unless it was honoured?
The want lay there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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