“The men of blood have come to seek me,” he observed, with calmness.  “They have heard how I was moved to return from banishment; and now am I to be led to prison, and thence to death.  It is an end I have long looked for.  I will open unto them, lest they say, ‘Lo, he feareth!’”

“Nay, I will present myself before them,” said Pearson, with recovered fortitude.  “It may be that they seek me alone, and know not that thou abidest with me.”

“Let us go boldly, both one and the other,” rejoined his companion.  “It is not fitting that thou or I should shrink.”

They therefore proceeded through the entry to the door, which they opened, bidding the applicant, “Come in, in God’s name!” A furious blast of wind drove the storm into their faces, and extinguished the lamp; they had barely time to discern a figure, so white from head to foot with the drifted snow, that it seemed like Winter’s self, come in human shape to seek refuge from its own desolation.

“Enter, friend, and do thy errand, be it what it may,” said Pearson.  “It must needs be pressing, since thou comest on such a bitter night.”

“Peace be with this household,” said the stranger, when they stood on the floor of the inner apartment.

Pearson started, the elder Quaker stirred the slumbering embers of the fire, till they sent up a clear and lofty blaze; it was a female voice that had spoken; it was a female form that shone out, cold and wintry, in that comfortable light.

“Catharine, blessed woman,” exclaimed the old man, “art thou come to this darkened land again? art thou come to bear a valiant testimony as in former years?  The scourge hath not prevailed against thee, and from the dungeon hast thou come forth triumphant; but strengthen, strengthen now thy heart, Catharine, for Heaven will prove thee yet this once, ere thou go to thy reward.”

“Rejoice, friends!” she replied.  “Thou who hast long been of our people, and thou whom a little child hath led to us, rejoice!  Lo!  I come, the messenger of glad tidings, for the day of persecution is overpast.  The heart of the king, even Charles, hath been moved in gentleness toward us, and he hath sent forth his letters to stay the hands of the men of blood.  A ship’s company of our friends hath arrived at yonder town, and I also sailed joyfully among them.”

As Catharine spoke, her eyes were roaming about the room, in search of him for whose sake security was dear to her.  Pearson made a silent appeal to the old man, nor did the latter shrink from the painful task assigned him.

“Sister,” he began, in a softened yet perfectly calm tone, “thou tellest us of His love, manifested in temporal good; and now must we speak to thee of that selfsame love, displayed in chastenings.  Hitherto, Catharine, thou hast been as one journeying in a darksome and difficult path, and leading an infant by the hand; fain wouldst thou have looked heavenward continually, but still the cares of that little child have drawn thine eyes and thy affections to the earth.  Sister! go on rejoicing, for his tottering footsteps shall impede thine own no more.”