'"But if you get no comfort that way," says he, "it's all up."
'"Then, sir," says I, "should you think I'm a reprobate?"
'"Why," says he--he says, "if you do your best to get to heaven and
can't manage it, you must be one of those that seek to enter in at
the strait gate and shall not be able."
'An' then he asked me if I'd seen any of the ladies o' th' Hall
about that mornin'; so I telled him where I had seen the young
misses go on th' Moss Lane;--an' he kicked my poor cat right across
th' floor, an' went after 'em as gay as a lark: but I was very
sad. That last word o' his fair sunk into my heart, an' lay there
like a lump o' lead, till I was weary to bear it.
'Howsever, I follered his advice: I thought he meant it all for
th' best, though he HAD a queer way with him. But you know, Miss,
he's rich an' young, and such like cannot right understand the
thoughts of a poor old woman such as me. But, howsever, I did my
best to do all as he bade me--but maybe I'm plaguing you, Miss, wi'
my chatter.'
'Oh, no, Nancy! Go on, and tell me all.'
'Well, my rheumatiz got better--I know not whether wi' going to
church or not, but one frosty Sunday I got this cold i' my eyes.
Th' inflammation didn't come on all at once like, but bit by bit--
but I wasn't going to tell you about my eyes, I was talking about
my trouble o' mind;--and to tell the truth, Miss Grey, I don't
think it was anyways eased by coming to church--nought to speak on,
at least: I like got my health better; but that didn't mend my
soul.
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