She forgets I am a quiet, sober-looking woman of seven-and-twenty, whom no one will wonder to see gravely plodding along the highway.
But I almost made her promise to come to us at Wittemberg; and at last she reproached herself with distrusting God, and said she ought never to have feared that his angels would watch over me.
Once more, then, the world opens before me; but I do not hope (and why should I wish?) that it should be more to me than this convent has been,—a place where God will be with me and give me some little loving services to do for him.
But my heart does yearn to embrace dear Aunt Cotta and Elsè once more, and little Thekla. And when Thekla marries, and Aunt and Uncle Cotta are left alone, I think they may want me, and Cousin Eva may grow old among Elsè's children, and all the grandchildren, helping one and another a little, and missed a little when God takes me.
But chiefly I long to be near Aunt Cotta, now that Fritz is in that terrible prison. She always said I comforted her more than any one, and I think I may again.
XXII.
Elsè's Story.
October, 1521.
Christopher has just returned from a journey to Halle. They have dared once more to establish the sale of indulgences there, under the patronage of the young and self-indulgent Archbishop Albert of Mainz. Many of the students and the more thoughtful burghers are full of indignation at seeing the great red cross once more set up, and the heavenly pardons hawked through the streets for sale. This would not have been attempted, Gottfried feels sure, had not the enemy believed that Dr. Luther's voice is silenced for ever. Letters from him are, however, privately handed about among us here, and more than one of us know that he is in safe keeping not very far from us.