over both arms.

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.

"If it could have brought us all together once more--but no
message--nothing--I cannot understand--my only child."

Nearer and nearer came the storm. The rain pounded on the shingles and
pattered loudly against the windows. The wind howled around the eves,
and the old house rattled and shook in spite of its solid foundation.

Marta, still brooding over Kathrien like a motherly hen over her
chicken, shuddered at the rattling of the window blinds.

From the midst of the general tumult a new sound detached itself--a
sharp double rap from the old-fashioned knocker.

"_Och!_" cried Marta. "It must be Pastor and the others! You don't feel
much like seeing visi