“When thou art ready to make an offer of money, the elders will weigh it against Walda Kellar’s transgression,” he said. “If it is found better for the colony that she be cast out with thee, consent to the marriage may be given.” He thought for a moment, with his chin in his neckcloth. Shaking his head, he added: “There is still a chance that Walda Kellar may receive the true inspiration. She may yet lead the people. It is but small hope that I can give thee.” He turned to go out. “Stop! How about these ropes? Have them taken off,” Everett said, in a tone that was menacing. “I shall be here to my trial. Don’t think I would miss that. I shall stay in Zanah until I can leave the colony with Walda Kellar.” Adolph Schneider paid no attention to Everett’s demand. Instead, he stalked through the door, his cane pounding in unison with every other step. XX It was noontime when the colonists gathered in the meeting-house to attend the funeral of Wilhelm Kellar. The bier, placed before the platform of the elders, was covered with flowers—the late garden blossoms of autumn. White dahlias and asters, intwined in wreaths, almost concealed the lid of the coffin. The women, who wore gowns of black calico, gathered solemnly on their side of the big, bare room. The men stood in groups until the elders had taken their places on the platform where the vacant chair of Wilhelm Kellar was draped in black. This occupied the position formerly given to the chair of the prophetess, which was pushed back and turned so that it faced the wall. The bell tolled the age of the dead elder. When its fiftieth stroke had died away Walda was brought in from the room where she had held her vigil before the _Untersuchung_. Mother Werther and Mother Kaufmann accompanied her. Her appearance caused a hush to fall upon the assembly, and some of the women covered their eyes, for it was seen that over her black gown was thrown the scarlet cloak, which betokened that her soul was clothed in the garment of sin. It was the same cloak that Marta Bachmann had worn during the time of her probation, and some of the softer-hearted of the colony “mothers” prayed that the fallen prophetess might follow in Marta Bachmann’s footsteps until she reached the height of final repentance. The maidens of Zanah gazed on Walda with fascinated eyes. A few were bold enough to hope that she might be able to leave Zanah with the stranger whose worldly ways and physical beauty had charmed even those who had never spoken to him. At the head of the coffin a stool had been provided for Walda, and she sank upon it as if overcome with sudden weakness. For a moment she bowed her black-capped head in prayer, and then, looking unflinchingly into the faces of the colonists, waited with courage for the service to begin. She was very pale, and once she threw off the cloak, as if it smothered her. In a second she remembered its significance, and drew it about her shoulders.