CHAPTER X.

"AS SORROWING, YET ALWAYS REJOICING."

It was the season, when summer gives place to autumn; when the evenings grow long, and the lamps are lighted early.

In his study, Dr. Martin was seated at his great oaken table busily writing. A hanging lamp shed a pleasant light, and the stove of green tiles diffused a cheerful warmth. A brown spaniel lay curled up on the floor. On the wall near the book-shelves hung a handsome clock in a tall, slender case of polished cedar-wood, whose long pendulum gravely measured the seconds. It had been a bridal gift from the Protestant Abbot Frederick, of Nuremberg.

Beside her husband sat Katharine with her spinning wheel. She was dressed in a simple gown of black woollen stuff, and her hair was hidden under a white coif. From time to time her eyes turned with a loving, reverent glance toward her husband. The silence was unbroken, save by the scratching of Luther's pen, the humming of Katharine's wheel, and the crackling of the fire.

Suddenly the spindle slipped and fell to the floor with a crash, which startled the Doctor out of his meditations. Katharine rose in dismay. "Do not be angry, dearest Doctor, I will go elsewhere, lest my carelessness disturb you."

Luther looked up. "Not so, dear Kate. Have I not often told you that your presence is not a hindrance, but rather a help to me? I once imagined that a man who was unencumbered by a wife and by the cares of a household, could work with more profit. But I have learned to think differently. It seems as though my thoughts were freer, and my pen more ready, when you are near me. Every day I thank my God for the good and faithful wife He has given me. As I expected, my enemies make more noise than ever, and I am a worse heretic, in consequence of my marriage, than when I touched the pope's crown and the monks' soft living. But I am of good cheer nevertheless. For if my marriage is God's work, small wonder that the world is offended at it. Is it not an offence to the world, that the Creator gave His life as a ransom for mankind? If the world were my friend, I should fear that my work was not of God."

Katharine listened with increasing delight. "Ah, dearest Doctor, your speech makes my heart glad. When the evil-speakers attacked me, they caused me many a sleepless night. But my sorrow was ten times greater, when you for my sake experienced an increase of enmity. When you tell me that you rejoice at the world's displeasure, I too am comforted. If our enemies had eyes to see, they would cease to speak evil of us, and rather envy the calm and peaceful happiness which marriage has brought us."

Luther laid down his pen and said: "Yes, dear wife, you speak truly. Marriage is a holy place, with an altar, upon which incense is continually burning. All the troubles of life grow light, when each bears the other's burdens. I have a pious, faithful wife, to whom I may safely entrust all I have, even my own life. And you, Kate, have a God-fearing husband, who loves you, and esteems you more highly, than the kingdom of France, or the principality of Venice."

With a blush Katharine asked, as she bent over the table: "What are you writing, Doctor?"

Luther took up a sheet of paper: "See," he said, "these words are blows designed for a crowned head,--that of King Henry of England. Do not be alarmed, dear Kate,--Dr. Martin, whom he calls a "mangy dog" and a "hellish wolf," will tell him what will subdue his lofty spirit. I had well-nigh forgotten what he wrote against me in 1521, and silence would have been the fittest answer to such unkingly language; but when, on the occasion of my marriage, he renewed his attacks in vile words, I could no longer keep silence. Would you hear what I have written?"

As Katharine seemed eager to hear, he read aloud to her the first pages of his manuscript.

She seemed much pleased. "Ah, Doctor, how softly you tread! This pleases me well, and I would beg of you in future also to restrain your anger, for with calmness and deliberation one can deal more telling blows, than with hasty words--and perhaps in the end win the enemy's good-will."

With a smile, the Doctor took his wife's hand. "I thank you for such words. Although a woman's duty does not lie in meddling with her husband's business, yet a man suffers no harm, if his wife exhorts him to peace and gentleness, and by her example induces him to make these virtues his own. I confess that I have often yielded to my anger, and have poured oil upon the flames, when perhaps with moderation and patience I might have quenched the fire. In this matter you shall be my taskmaster, and I will thank God for the faithful friend he has given me in you."

Voices were heard outside, and presently Dorothy, the maid-servant, entered with a roll of paper. "A messenger stands without, who charged me to deliver this into Dr. Luther's hands."

Luther opened the roll and found therein letters from two Leipsic theologians--a Latin address to himself, from Master Joachim von der Heyden, and a German one to Katharine, signed by Master John Hasenberg, otherwise Myricianus.

"See here," laughed Luther, "Katharine Luther has become a famous woman, since learned writings are addressed to her!"

With mock solemnity he placed one of the papers in her hand. But he laughed no more, when he read the one directed to himself, and Katharine's face paled and flushed by turns, as she acquainted herself with the contents of the other. She was unable to finish. It seemed as though her heart must stop its beating, when Martin Luther, the object of her deepest veneration, was assailed in foul language, and the advice was given her, to flee from his unholy presence, and return to the heavenly Bridegroom, with whom she had broken her faith. With pain and dread her eyes sought her husband's face, where a dark cloud was gathering, as he waded through a flood of abuse and slander. But the cloud soon disappeared, and the old, cheerful calm took its place, as with a merry laugh he flung the letter on the table. Then he turned to Katharine and said: "What have they written you, my dear wife? I doubt not they have served you with the same dainty repast. Shall we follow their advice, take our staff, and return at once to the bosom of the all-saving church?"

With a sad smile Katharine replied: "How can you jest? My heart is sorely troubled."

"Not so, dear Kate," Luther comforted her; "I am of good cheer; for the more furiously the enemies rage and threaten, the more blessed seems the lot which God has granted me, and all their malice only serves to show me the more clearly the holiness of marriage."

Here Wolfgang entered, and reported that the messenger was still waiting for his fee. Luther quickly thrust his hand into his pocket, and finding it empty, he unlocked a cabinet, and took out two golden florins.

"Truly, the man must needs have a rich reward, for helping me to such joy and contentment. Bring him in."

When the man appeared, Luther tapped him on the shoulder and said kindly: "Dear friend, go home in peace, and tell those who sent you, that their letters have caused us much pleasure. You, as the bearer, take these two florins as your reward, together with the blessing of Dr. Martin and of Mistress Katharine, his wife."

The man, in great embarrassment, was uncertain whether Luther were in jest or in earnest, and hesitated to accept the rich gift. But Luther's manner was irresistible, and with his friendly wishes for a safe journey, the messenger took his departure. Then Luther turned to Katharine, who was still struggling with her feelings. "See, dear Kate, the Devil and the world would fain have you leave Dr. Martin. But the harder they press you, the more firmly I shall hold you; for here alone is your abiding-place."

Softly weeping, Katharine rested her head upon his breast. But her tears were no longer tears of sadness.