Biographical fiction; Christian fiction; Christian saints -- Fiction; More, Thomas, Saint, 1478-1535 -- Fiction
"There's manie a Doctor," sayth she, with an unpleasant Leer, "that
hath given that at first. In Time he gets his Hand in; and I've had a
Plenty o' Practice--Thanks to Self and Sister."
"I knew not," quoth I, "that thou hadst a Sister."
"How should ye, Mistress," returns she shortlie, "when ye never comes
nigh us? We've grubbed on together this many a Year."
"'Tis soe far," I returned, half ashamed.
"Why, soe it be," answers _Gammer_; "far from Neighbours, far from
Church, and far from Priest; howbeit, my old Legs carries me to _your_
House o' Fridays; but I know not whether I shall e'er come agayn--the
Rye Bread was soe hard last Time; it may serve for young Teeth, and
for them as has got none; but mine, you see, are onlie on the _goe_;"
and she opened her Mouth with a ghastly Smile. "'Tis not," she added,
"that I'm ungratefulle; but thou sees, Mistress, I really _can't_ eat
Crusts."
After a Moment, I asked, "Where lies your Dwelling?"
[Illustration: Gammer Gurney.]
"Out by yonder," quoth she, pointing to a shapeless Mass like a huge
Bird's Nest in the Corner of the Field. "There bides poor _Joan_ and I.
Wilt come and looke within, Mistress, and see how a Christian can die?"
I mutelie complyed, in spite of _Cecy's_ pulling at my Skirts. Arrived
at the wretched Abode, which had a Hole for its Chimney, and another
for Door at once and Window, I found, sitting in a Corner, propped on
a Heap of Rushes, dried Leaves, and olde Rags, an aged sick Woman, who
seemed to have but a little While to live. A Mug of Water stoode within
her Reach; I saw none other Sustenance; but, in her Visage, oh, such
Peace!... Whispers _Gammer_ with an awfulle Look, "She sees 'em now!"
"Sees who?" quoth I.
"Why, Angels in two long Rows, afore the Throne of GOD, a bending
of themselves, this Way, with theire Faces to th' Earth, and Arms
stretched out afore 'em."
"Hath she seen a Priest?" quoth I.
"LORD love ye," returns _Gammer_, "what coulde a Priest doe for her?
She's in Heaven alreadie. I doubte if she can heare me." And then,
in a loud, distinct Voyce, quite free from her usuall Mumping, she
beganne to recite in _English_, "Blessed is every one that feareth the
LORD, and walketh in his Ways," etc.; which the dying Woman hearde,
although alreadie speechlesse; and reaching out her feeble Arm unto
her Sister's Neck, she dragged it down till their Faces touched; and
then, looking up, pointed at Somewhat she aimed to make her see ...
and we alle looked up, but saw Noughte. Howbeit, she pointed up three
severall Times, and lay, as it were, transfigured before us, a gazing
at some transporting Sighte, and ever and anon turning on her Sister
Looks of Love; and, the While we stoode thus agaze, her Spiritt passed
away without even a Thrill or a Shudder. _Cecy_ and I beganne to
weepe; and, after a While, soe did _Gammer_; then, putting us forthe,
she sayd, "Goe, Children, goe; 'tis noe goode crying; and yet I'm
thankfulle to ye for your Teares."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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