through the guard she threw her arms about him. Not a word did
Sir Thomas say, but as he held her there the tears fell fast from
his eyes, while from the crowd around broke the sound of weeping.
Even the guards wept for pity. But at last, with full and heavy
hearts, father and daughter parted.

"Dear Meg," Sir Thomas wrote for the last time, "I never liked
your manner better towards me than when you kissed me last. For
I like when daughterly love and dear charity hath no leisure to
look to worldly courtesy."

Next day he died cheerfully as he had lived. To the last he
jested in his quaint fashion. The scaffold was so badly built
that it was ready to fall, so Sir Thomas, jesting, turned to the
lieutenant. "I pray you, Master Lieutenant," he said, "see me
safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for myself." He
desired the people to pray for him, and having kissed the
executioner in token of forgiveness, he laid his head upon the
block. "So passed Sir Thomas More out of the world to God." His
death was mourned by many far and near. "Had we been master of
such a servant," said the Emperor Charles when he heard of it,
"we would rather have lost the best city of our dominions than
have lost such a worthy counselor."

More died for his faith, that of the Catholic Church. He, as
others, saw with grief that there was much within the Church that
needed to be made better, but he trusted it would be made better.
To break away from the Church, to doubt the headship of the Pope,
seemed to him such wickedness that he hated the Reformers and
wrote against them. And although in Utopia he allowed his happy