"If my prayers could keep the child alive, my reverend Father, he would live to be as old as Abraham."
Whereat my father said the prior had the grace to look ashamed. Poor old man, he himself cares for naught but money, and I suppose he can't understand how any one can be really disinterested.
I must not forget to say that the Spanish kitling made the journey in the pocket of Harry's horseman's coat, sorely discomposed at times by the shaking, and wailing pitifully, but on the whole behaving very well.
We stopped for one night we were on the road at the same yeoman's house as before, and had the same hearty welcome. We heard that they found the old gaffer dead in his bed the next day but one after our visit. The dame said the words he had repeated to us were constantly on his lips the last day of his life, and when she put him to bed, he asked her "when that young lady would come again?" and left his blessing for me. And after she left him, she heard him murmuring over and over—"everlasting life—everlasting life." Truly a happy end.
[CHAPTER XXXVI.]
Aug. 18.
THE dear babe is gone—he died on the morning of the thirteenth, and is buried in the churchyard of the Priory Church, where both families have a right. My Lady tries to keep up, but grows more feeble every day. My Lord is with her every moment, Richard taking all cares off his hands.
"I wolde not brethren have you ignoraunt as concernynge them which are fallen aslepe, that ye sorowe not as wother do which have no hope. For yf we beleve that Jesus died, and rose agapne: even so them also which slepe by Jesus, will God brynge agapne with him . . . Therfore comfort youre selves one another with these wordes."
Tessalonyans chap iv