"Are there any English here now?" asked Mr. Batie, as we sat at dinner next day. He would have us all sit down together, saying that it was no time for worldly forms, as indeed it was not. "We heard the English congregation was wholly broken up." "It hath been so!" answered Monsieur Claude. "But the pastor resides here still. His name is Winter!" "Winter!" I exclaimed. "Not Arthur Winter from Middleburg." "The same, madam!" "Do you know him?" asked Mr. Batie. "Know him!" said I. "He married my own cousin, and his daughter is our dear adopted child. How stupid of me not to remember that it was to Wesel they came. It was Arthur Winter that married me." And I had much ado not to burst out weeping. Mr. Batie poured me out a glass of wine, which I drank, and restrained myself with a great effort. Madam Claude stepped out of the room and presently returned with a smelling bottle which she had been some time in finding. I suppose it may seem strange to some, but I dreaded to see Arthur and Katherine. It seemed like a tearing open of the unhealed wound, and I felt in the perverseness of grief, as if I could bear any thing better than their sympathy. There was no use in giving way to such feelings, however, and I was nerving myself to ask Madam Claude for a guide to their house, when the door opened, and I found myself in Katherine's arms—the very same Katherine I had left in Middleburg so many years before—a little older, but serene and fair as ever. Naturally her first question was for her child. "Katherine is well and in good hands!" said I, and I told her how I had left her. "She will be safe there if any where! My lord is king on his own domain, and any one coming to molest him would go to feed the crabs and codlings within two hours afterward." My lady would have me go home to spend the day with my cousin, and as she really did not need me, I was glad to do so, finding after the first was over, great comfort in her gentle familiar English ways. She told me my uncle was well, as also our other friends in Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and that the prospects of the Reformed religion grew more and more gloomy. New restraints and vexations were laid upon the Protestants every day, and it was believed they would finally be wholly forbidden the exercise of their religion. Garrett had given up business, and they talked of removing to Leyden, but nothing was settled when Katherine last heard. "And what will you do?" she asked, looking at me with her sweet eyes full of pity and kindness. "Whatever my hand shall find!" I answered. "I have no earthly duty now but to my dear mistress, and whither she goes I will go, were it to the ends of the earth." And, indeed, I did travel many a rough and weary mile with her ere we saw England again. My mistress was about again, and we were once more established in a neat little house which Mr. Batie had hired.