“It is this man who should bear all the curses of Zanah,” he continued, turning to address the people. “We took him into close communion with us, and he hath repaid our faith in him by seeking to ensnare the love of our prophetess. He pledged me his honor, and he cared naught for his word given with the seal of a hand-clasp. He is a Judas who hath worked secretly for the undoing of Zanah—a Judas who hath cared for neither honor nor truth, so that he might win the woman whom he coveted. He deserveth not mercy. Let us cast him out of Zanah, and when he hath gone back to the wicked world to which he belongeth, the soul of Walda Kellar can be cleansed of the stain of an earthly love. Much prayer and fasting will restore her to fellowship with God.” Everett moved close to Walda, and, laying his hand upon her arm, would have drawn her away from the infuriated mob. When he touched her, the sight of what seemed an assertion of his claim enraged Gerson Brandt. The school-master was imbued with the strength of a giant. He thrust Everett away with a mighty stroke of his arm. “Seize this man!” he commanded. “Bind him, and put him out of the sight of the people!” Four or five colonists sprang forward to obey Gerson Brandt’s orders, but Everett threw them off as lightly as if they were children. “You have no right to touch me,” he said, towering above even the tallest. “I have broken no law, and I can hold you responsible if you deprive me of my liberty.” The elders had gathered about Gerson Brandt and Walda. Wilhelm Kellar tottered to his daughter’s side, and implored her to surrender her will to the will of Zanah. “Shame on you! Shame on you, men of Zanah!” cried Mother Kaufmann, who had climbed to the top of a high tree-stump. “Will ye let one man make cowards of you? Do the bidding of Gerson Brandt.” Some of the women hissed, and a score of the mill-hands fought their way to the platform. Surrounding Everett, they closed in upon him. One, more daring than the rest, sought to seize him. Everett felled the colonist with a quick blow. The others endeavored to detain him, but none was a match for the athlete with muscles of steel. Knocking down two or three of the most aggressive of his assailants, Everett went to Walda, who trembled with fear for his safety. He drew her close to him. The quavering voice of Wilhelm Kellar sounded in their ears. “Offend not the eyes of Zanah by parading your unseemly love,” he said, raising his cane as if he would strike the man of the world. The effort was too much for his feeble strength. He almost fell, and Walda knelt before him to support him with her outstretched arms. His indignation changed to grief, and, looking down at the daughter upon whom he had built all his ambition, he gave way to bitter lamentation. “Oh, Lord, how have I deserved this punishment?” he cried. Walda sobbed, still holding his frail body close to her. “Forgive me, father,” said she, looking up through her tears.