“What sayest thou, Walda Kellar?” demanded Adolph Schneider, rising from his chair. The colonists listened stolidly, as if they did not comprehend the meaning of Walda’s speech. “Nay, surely thou hast not been touched by an earthly love?” said Gerson Brandt, in a tone which told that despair was clutching at his heart. “Thy words are vague.” Walda saw the horror in her father’s face. She looked away from him and the school-master, waiting a moment that she might choose her words so that they would not give unnecessary pain. “We believe thou hast not looked with favor on any man,” Adolph Schneider said, encouragingly, and then he added, as if to convey a covert warning to the people of Zanah: “Yet thou art a woman, and all that are made in the image of Eve are easy to be persuaded by the voice of Satan, speaking through man.” “A love that is of heaven, and yet of earth, hath taken possession of my heart,” declared Walda, fixing her eyes upon the people. “It came to me like a great light shining through the gates of heaven. I did not know the glory that enfolded me was what ye of Zanah call an earthly love, for, truly, even now it seemeth to have in it more of heaven than of that which pertaineth to earth. I did not fight against this love which hath been revealed to me, for I did not know it was human love which made me feel a kinship with God. Here, in Zanah, ye have taught me that the love of men and women is a sinful thing, and there came to me no prick of the conscience—no warning that I was transgressing the law of God.” She was transfigured with the mystery and beauty of her new heritage of love, and the people listened in awe. When she had stopped speaking, she turned to her father with a look of such pleading and entreaty that the old man, who had heard as one that dreams, moved his lips in an effort to speak. Presently there arose a murmur from the people. The Herr Doktor commanded that all should hold their peace. “What man in Zanah hath stolen thy thoughts from God?” the Herr Doktor asked, in a stern voice. “I love Stephen Everett, the stranger who belongeth not to Zanah,” Walda answered, in unfaltering tones. A wail arose from the people. It grew into a mighty sound that was like the autumn winds rushing through the tall trees on the slopes of the bluffs. “The tempter hath come to Walda Kellar even as he came to Marta Bachmann, but repentance is possible for her who hath been chosen to be the instrument of the Lord,” declared Adolph Schneider. “Daughter of Zanah, pluck this love from thine heart.” “I have proclaimed to you that this love seemeth a holy thing sent from heaven. It is fixed in my heart forever.” Walda was again the prophetess. She spoke slowly, and it was as if she were but repeating the promptings of some inner voice.