When things went
wrong for a day and the fire was out
again and the room dark, she said, `I
'aven't kept near enough--I 'aven't
trusted TRUE. It will be gave me
soon,' and when once at such a time
I said to her, `We must learn to say,
Thy will be done,' she smiled up at
me like a happy baby and answered:
`Thy will be done on earth AS IT IS IN
'EAVEN. Lor', there's no cold there,
nor no 'unger nor no cryin' nor pain.
That's the way the will is done in
'eaven. That's wot I arst for all
day long--for it to be done on
earth as it is in 'eaven.' What could
I say? Could I tell her that the will
of the Deity on the earth he created
was only the will to do evil--to
give pain--to crush the creature
made in His own image. What else
do we mean when we say under all
horror and agony that befalls, `It is
God's will--God's will be done.'
Base unbeliever though I am, I could
not speak the words. Oh, she has
something we have not. Her poor,
little misspent life has changed itself
into a shining thing, though it shines
and glows only in this hideous place.
She herself does not know of its
shining. But Drunken Bet would
stagger up to her room and ask to be
told what she called her `pantermine'
stories. I have seen her there sitting
listening--listening with strange
quiet on her and dull yearning in
her sodden eyes. So would other
and worse women go to her, and
I, who had struggled with them,
could see that she had reached some
remote longing in their beings which
I had never touched.
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