“She’ll get along well enough, I dare say. I haven’t time to bother with her,” said Isel.
“She will just be a bye-word in the whole town, Aunt. You don’t know how people talk. I’ve heard it said that you are too idle to take any pains with the child.”
“Idle?—me!” cried poor Isel. “I’m up long before you, and I don’t get a wink of sleep till the whole town’s been snoring for an hour or more: and every minute of the time as full as it can be crammed. I’ll tell you what, Anania, I don’t believe you know what work means. If you’d just change with me for a week, you’d have an idea or two more in your head at the end of it.”
“I see, Aunt, you are vexed at what I told you,” replied Anania in a tone of superior virtue. “I am thankful to say I have not my house in the mess yours is, and my children are decently behaved. I thought it only kind to let you know the remarks that are being made: but of course, if you prefer to be left ignorant, I don’t need to stay. Good morrow! Pray don’t disturb yourself, Flemild—I can let myself out, as you are all so busy. You’ll be sorry some day you did not take advice. But I never obtrude my advice; if people don’t want it, I shall not trouble them with it. It’s a pity, that’s all.”
“Oh deary, deary!” cried poor Isel, as Anania sailed away with her head held rather higher than usual. “Why ever did she come to plague me, when I’ve got my hands as full already!—And what on earth does she mean, calling me names, and Derette too? The child’s good enough—only a bit thoughtless, as children always are. I do wonder why folks can’t let a body alone!”
For three days the Germans rested peacefully in their new quarters. At the end of that time, Gerhardt called on all his little company, and desired them to meet him early on the following morning on a piece of vacant ground, a few miles from the city. They met as agreed, eighteen men and eleven women, of all ages, from young Conrad whose moustache was little more than down, to old Berthold who carried the weight of threescore and fifteen years.
“My friends,” said Gerhardt, “let us speak to our God, before we say anything to each other.”
All knelt, and Gerhardt poured forth a fervent prayer that God would be with them and aid them in the work which they had undertaken; that He would supply them with bread to eat, and raiment to put on; that He would keep the door of their lips, that they should speak neither guile, discourtesy, nor error, yet open their mouths that with all boldness they might preach His Word; that none of them might be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, nor seek to hide the offence of the cross for the sake of pleasing men. A whole-hearted Amen was the response from the group around him.
They rose, and Gerhardt repeated by heart three Psalms—the fifteenth, the forty-sixth, and the ninetieth—not in Latin, but in sonorous German, many of his compatriots taking up the words and repeating them with him, in a style which made it plain that they were very familiar. Then Gerhardt spoke.
“I will but shortly remind you, my friends,” he said, “of the reason for which we are here. Hundreds of years ago, it pleased God to send to us Germans a good English pastor, who name was Winfrid, when we were poor heathens, serving stocks and stones. He came with intent to deliver us from that gloomy bondage, and to convert us to the faith of Christ. God so blessed his efforts that as their consequence, Germany is Christian at this day; and he, leaving his English name of Winfrid, the Peace-Conqueror (though a truer name he could never have had), is known among us as Boniface, the doer of good deeds. Since his day, four hundred years have passed, and the Church of Christ throughout the world has woefully departed from the pure faith. We are come out, like the Apostles, a little company,—like them, poor and unlearned,—but rich in the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord; we are come to tread in their steps, to do the work they did, and to call the world back to the pure truth of the earliest days of Christendom. And we come here, because it is here that our first duty is due. We come to give back to England the precious jewel of the true faith which she gave to us four hundred years ago. Let every one of us clearly understand for what we are to be ready. We tread in our Master’s steps, and our Master was not flattered and complimented by the world. He came bringing salvation, and the world would none of it, nor of Him. So, if we find the world hates us, let us be neither surprised nor afraid, but remember that it hated Him, and that as He was, so are we in this world. Let us be prepared to go with Him, if need be, both into prison and to death. If we suffer with Him, we shall reign. Brethren, if we seek to reign, we must make account first to suffer.”