The story, disentangled from all our questions and remarks, was this:
Arthur and Katherine had begun to find their position in Middleburg both uneasy and insecure. Their congregation, always small, had been almost broken up by deaths and removals, and they were doubting which way to turn next, when Arthur received a call from an English colony in Wesel, one of the German towns belonging to the famous Hanse League. They had gathered together a congregation, but had not yet found a pastor, when some one from Amsterdam who knew Arthur told them of him.
The call was too clearly Providential not to be heeded. Katherine's oldest boy had already been placed with Garrett Van Alstine to be made a merchant of, and an opportunity occurring to send Katherine directly to Biddeford in the care of a merchant well-known to my uncle and cousin, they had taken advantage thereof, wishing, as Arthur wrote, to know that at least one of their children was in security. Little did they or we know of the storm that was about to burst upon England.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
THE GREAT STORM.
WELL, the school feast was held with great success, and was all the more enjoyed that we had my lady with us, for she was one of those who carry sunshine wherever they go.
Our little Kate was taken to the arms and heart of the parish at once, and many were the "dear souls" and "tender lambs" bestowed upon her by the warm-hearted Devon women, and much the wonder that coming from outlandish parts she should speak English as well as any body. Poor Kate found it a good deal easier to make herself understood than to understand, for the Devon dialect is almost as different from that of London as the Dutch tongue itself. But she was a cheerful, brave little maid, always disposed to make the best of every thing and every body, and though scandalized at the sluttery of the housekeeping, and a little scared at the cliffs and the hills (having never in her life seen any thing higher than a church steeple), yet she soon made herself at home, and was a wonderful help and comfort to me. The children worshiped her as though she had come direct from Heaven, and if the good dames did not spoil her digestion with clotted cream and honey-cakes, and her mind with flattery, 'twas more owing to her discretion than theirs.
We passed two more happy years in our quiet country home—happier years I am sure no one ever spent any where. We had, 'tis true, one great grief in the death of a dear little maid, who was sent to stay with us three months, and then taken back to her home in the skies. 'Twas a grievous loss, but yet I took great comfort in the babe, even after I had seen the dear little body laid away under the daisies in our pretty, green churchyard. I felt that she had been given to me—yea, given and not lent—and that she would always be mine, though we were separated for a season. 'Twas a sweet thought that one more blessed spirit was resting in Jesus, and that it was my child; and I was able to take comfort in it, even when I was folding the clothes she had not worn out, and putting away the cradle she would never need. The dear Father comforted me as one whom his mother comforteth, and I know the meaning of His precious promises better by far than I had ever done before.
It was in the spring of 1563 that Walter was summoned to London, on business. That same distant relation of Sir Edward Peckham's who had inherited his property was dead, and had left Walter a considerable legacy, which his son was ready to pay over. Besides there were some difficulties about the estate which Walter's testimony might help to settle, and Sir John was anxious to have him come at once to London. He was considerate enough to send a sum of money for expenses, and a couple of stout, well-mounted serving men for attendants on the road.