Everett put the scarlet cloak upon Walda’s shoulders and led her away. She went without waiting to say a last word to the man of Zanah, who had lifted his lantern and held it so that it might give her light. Gerson Brandt would have gone on ahead illuminating the way, but a sudden weakness overcame him when he saw that Walda had forgotten his presence in the excitement of her departure. He sank upon the well-curb, at the very place where Everett had first seen him and Walda speak to each other. He listened for the wheels of the carriage. He heard the horses start and then stop suddenly. Hans Peter had run out of the inn carrying on his shoulders the illuminated Bible which had become, by right of purchase, the property of the stranger. Gerson Brandt quelled in his heart the rebellion he felt because to him was denied even the privilege of giving to Walda the Sacred Book into which he had wrought so many of his best thoughts and most precious hopes. He buried his head in his hands, waiting patiently until he should know that the woman he loved had gone forever beyond his reach. The horses’ hoofs struck the soft road with a muffled sound. The wheels started a second time. Gerson Brandt closed his ears for a moment, and then, rising, listened for the last sound of the carriage. He was still standing in the deserted square when Hans Peter spoke to him. “It is almost the beginning of a new hour,” the fool said. Gerson Brandt examined his big, silver watch by the light of the lantern. “Midnight!” he called, in a voice out of which all hope had gone. “Midnight!—” “And all is well!” cried the simple one, taking up the words that Gerson Brandt had not power to speak. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber’s note: 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.