Here I am Your Excellency, at the end of my three years as shepherdess, from the time I was seven until I was ten years old. During these three years, our home and, I would venture to say, our parish as well, underwent an almost total change. Reverend Father Pena was no longer our parish priest, and had been replaced by Reverend Father Boicinha. When this most zealous priest learned that such a pagan custom as endless dancing was only too common in the parish, he promptly began to preach against it from the pulpit in his Sunday sermons. In public and in private, he lost no opportunity of attacking this bad custom. As soon as my mother heard this good priest speak in this fashion, she forbade my sisters to attend such amusements. As my sisters’ example led others also to refrain from attending, this custom gradually died out. The same thing happened among the children, who used to get up their little dances apart, as I have already explained to Your Excellency, when writing about my cousin Jacinta.
Apropos of this, somebody remarked one day to my mother: “Up to now, it was no sin to go to dances, but just because we have a new parish priest, it is a sin. How could that be?”
“I don’t know” my mother replied. “All I know is that the priest does not want dancing, so my daughters are not going to such gatherings any more. At most, I would let them dance a bit within the family, because the priest says there’s no harm in that.”
During this period, my two eldest sisters left home, after receiving the sacrament of matrimony. My father had fallen into bad company, and let his weakness get the better of him; this meant the loss of some of our property. When my mother realized that our means of livelihood were diminishing, she resolved to send my two sisters, Gloria and Carolina, out to work as servants. At home, there remained only my brother, to look after our few remaining fields; my mother took care of the house, and myself, to take our sheep out to pasture. My poor mother seemed just drowned in the depths of distress. When we gathered around the fire at night time, waiting for my father to come into supper, my mother would look at her daughters’ empty places and exclaim with profound sadness: “My God, where has all of the joy of our home gone?” Then, resting her head on a little table beside her, she would burst into tears. My brother and I wept with her.
It was one of the saddest scenes I have ever witnessed. What with longing for my sisters, and seeing my mother so miserable, I felt my heart was just breaking. Although I was only a child, I understood perfectly the situation we were in. Then I remembered the Angels words: “Above all, accept submissively the sacrifices that the Lord will send you.” At such times, I used to withdraw to a solitary place, so as not to add to my mother’s suffering, by letting her see my own. This place was usually our well. There on my knees, leaning over the edge of the stone slabs that covered the well, my tears mingled with the waters below and I offered my suffering to God. Sometimes Jacinta and Francisco would come and find me like this, in bitter grief. As my voice was choked with sobs and I could not say a word, they shared my suffering to such a degree that they also wept copious tears. Then Jacinta made our offering aloud: “My God, it is an act of reparation, and for the conversion of sinners, that we offer you all these sufferings and sacrifices”. The formula of the offering was not always exact but the meaning was always the same.
So much suffering began to undermine my mother’s health. She was no longer able to work, so she sent for my sister Gloria to come and take care of her, and look after the house as well. All the surgeons and doctors around were consulted. We had recourse to every kind of remedy, but there was no improvement whatsoever. The good parish priest kindly offered to take my mother to Leiria in his mule cart, to consult the doctors there. Accompanied by my sister Teresa, she went to Leiria. But she arrived home half dead from such a journey, worn out after so many consultations, and having obtained no beneficial results of any kind. Finally, a surgeon in S. Mamede was consulted. He declared that my mother had a cardiac lesion, a dislocated spinal vertebra and fallen kidneys. He prescribed for her a rigorous treatment of red-hot needles and various kinds of medication, and this brought about some improvement of her condition.
This is how things were with us when the 13th of May, 1917 arrived. It was around this time also that my brother reached the age for enlistment into the army. As his health was excellent, there was every reason to expect that he would be accepted. Besides, there was a war on, and it would be difficult to obtain his exemption from military service. My mother, being afraid of being left alone with no one to look after the land, sent also for my sister Carolina to come home. Meanwhile, my brother’s godfather promised to obtain his exemption. He put in a word with the doctor responsible for his medical examination and thus the good Lord deigned to grant my mother this relief.