It was doubtful, however, whether this was to
be. She was detained in England, partly by circumstances
unknown, "partly by empire of her head," Mr. Harry Locke, the
Cheapside merchant. It is somewhat humorous to see Knox
struggling for resignation, now that he has to do with a
faithful husband (for Mr. Harry Locke was faithful). Had it
been otherwise, "in my heart," he says, "I could have wished
- yea," here he breaks out, "yea, and cannot cease to wish -
that God would guide you to this place." (6) And after all,
he had not long to wait, for, whether Mr. Harry Locke died in
the interval, or was wearied, he too, into giving permission,
five months after the date of the letter last quoted, "Mrs.
Anne Locke, Harry her son, and Anne her daughter, and
Katherine her maid," arrived in that perfect school of
Christ, the Presbyterian paradise, Geneva. So now, and for
the next two years, the cup of Knox's happiness was surely
full. Of an afternoon, when the bells rang out for the
sermon, the shops closed, and the good folk gathered to the
churches, psalm-book in hand, we can imagine him drawing near
to the English chapel in quite patriarchal fashion, with Mrs.
Knox and Mrs. Bowes and Mrs. Locke, James his servant,
Patrick his pupil, and a due following of children and maids.
He might be alone at work all morning in his study, for he
wrote much during these two years; but at night, you may be
sure there was a circle of admiring women, eager to hear the
new paragraph, and not sparing of applause.
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