At first Marta did not see her in the dim yellow gloom of the large room; but a moment later, in alarm, she dropped the clothes in a careful heap on a chair, and ran to Kathrien as fast as her stocky figure and many Dutch petticoats would allow.
"Och," she cried sympathetically. At her pitying touch, Kathrien suddenly buried her face on Marta's broad breast, and broke into convulsive sobs. Marta hushed her as she would a baby, with many sweet, caressing Dutch words.
"Sh! Sh! Lievling, Sh! Sh! Old Marta is here! Cry all you want to——'Twill do you good! A bride to cry on her wedding eve! Who ever heard such things! You should be happy—the good Mynheer Grimm would wish his child happy on her wedding eve! Sh! You will have a fine day to-morrow, for it storms to-night—a good sign! You must have a bright face to show your husband, and a face of happiness! Not a swollen little face—like this! What a face to take to a bridegroom! Marta has fixed the dress—'tis wonderful! See there over the chair, so filmy—like a cloud—you will be like a lily in a cloud of dew to-morrow. Think how beautiful! Do not spoil it all, lievling! Be happy, Kathrien, Kathrien wees, bedard, kindje lievling. Be happy among those who love you so!"
Comforted by Marta's soothing words, and relieved by a good cry, Kathrien wiped her eyes.
"There, there, Marta," she said, drawing a long, quivering breath, "others have troubles too, haven't they?"
Marta nodded her head vigorously.
"Ach!" she sighed. "Gut—Ja! Others have their troubles!"
Kathrien kissed Marta gently, then said:
"I had hoped, Marta, that Anne Marie would have heard of uncle, and come back to us at this time—you are so brave—you never complain—Poor Marta!"
Once more Marta sighed.