There was nothing beyond that to be seen; but the
greater part of these poor people had friends or relations in
that palace of Death. Leonard stood and listened. At first their
talk consisted of vague and exaggerated accounts (if such could
be exaggerated) of the horrors of the fever. Then they spoke of
Ruth--of his mother; and Leonard held his breath to hear.
"They say she has been a great sinner, and that this is her
penance, quoth one. And as Leonard gasped, before rushing forward
to give the speaker straight the lie, an old man spoke--
"Such a one as her has never been a great sinner; nor does she do
her work as a penance, but for the love of God, and of the
blessed Jesus. She will be in the light of God's countenance when
you and I will be standing afar off. I tell you, man, when my
poor wench died, as no one would come near, her head lay at that
hour on this woman's sweet breast. I could fell you," the old man
went on, lifting his shaking arm, "for calling that woman a great
sinner. The blessing of them who were ready to perish is upon
her."
Immediately there arose a clamour of tongues, each with some tale
of his mother's gentle doings, till Leonard grew dizzy with the
beatings of his glad, proud heart. Few were aware how much Ruth
had done; she never spoke of it, shrinking with sweet shyness
from over-much allusion to her own work at all times. Her left
hand truly knew not what her right hand did; and Leonard was
overwhelmed now to hear of the love and the reverence with which
the poor and outcast had surrounded her.
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