She smiled faintly, and he began to unpin the black cap that she wore. It was securely fastened to her fair hair. He had to ask her assistance in getting rid of it. When it was loosened he threw it on the floor, and then walked off to look at her. She was very pale, after the sorrow and excitement of the day. Her black gown accentuated the fairness of her skin, and her clear-cut features were brought out in relief against the dark back of the chair. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said, with the fervor of sincerity. “How often you will hear your praises sung when you belong to the world.” “Art thou teaching me vanity so soon, Stephen?” she exclaimed, with a sigh, for she was in no mood for gayety. “I am half afraid to take you into the world,” he answered, with some seriousness. “You see, I have my misgivings. But you did not tell me what disturbed you. Come over here to Mother Werther’s sofa, where you can whisper to me all the vague fears of your heart.” “Thou knowest I shall need thy charity oftentimes,” Walda said, after Stephen had made her rest her head upon his shoulder. “I shall not understand many of thy ways—even thy thoughts will be too deep for me to understand.” Everett laughed. “You forget that you have wisdom and goodness that I can never fathom.” “Here in Zanah those who love soon weary of each other. Surely, it is not so in the world, where earthly love is not counted a sin. Is it?” she questioned. “Our love is for all our life,” he said, softly. “I shall be faithful to it always.” “And thou wilt be patient with me? Thou wilt teach me all that I should learn, if I would be thy worthy companion?” “I would not have you changed in any way, Walda.” “Ah! but love bringeth wisdom, and I have thought much about our marriage. I shall be unlike all the people thou knowest. When Gerson Brandt said he would be out of place in the great world, his words smote me.” “You shall learn all that you need to know about the ways of the world,” Everett promised, easily. “Is there any other subject that is causing you apprehension?” “Nay; none that I may voice to thee. When a woman is about to give herself to the man she loveth there is a tumult in her heart. It is of mingled faith and fear. Love carrieth both with it, for, while it exalts the soul, it bringeth the wisdom that hath a far sight of the meanings and mysteries of life.” Walda put her hands upon his shoulders, and, looking into his eyes, saw in them something that gave her courage. “Let us be grateful in this hour of our deliverance,” she said, rising. “Have the white gown—my wedding-gown—brought to me.” Everett went up to the room he had occupied during his last sojourn in Zanah, leaving Walda alone while he made his preparations for the journey.