“Often have I tried to imagine what life must be outside of Zanah,” Walda remarked, by-and-by, after a long silence. “Now and then stray memories come back to me, for thou knowest I was born in the world, and that I was a little child who brought to the colony recollections of another existence. It is these memories that compel me oftentimes to pray that I may be spared temptation which should never assail a woman of Zanah.” “Surely no temptation could come to you,” said Everett. “Thou knowest little of a woman’s heart. The seeds of vanity are here,” she said, folding her hands upon her breast. “I find pleasure in the flowers and the pretty things that God hath made.” “It seems to me a sin for the colonists to deny its members the highest joys that have been given to men and women,” said Everett. “I have often wondered whether you had any idea of all that you miss here in Zanah.” “I miss nothing that is best for my well-being,” said Walda. “Thou wouldst not plant discontent in my heart, wouldst thou, Stephen Everett?” “I would have you enjoy all that is most to be desired in life,” said Everett; and as he spoke he felt for the hundredth time an overwhelming impatience with the creed of the colony which denied to the young and beautiful all that made living worth while. Walda went to the chest of drawers, and, taking her knitting from a little basket, sank upon a low chair, from which she could get a glimpse of her sleeping father. Everett felt that she had dismissed him. He took up his hat and said: “You told me I might call you Walda, so I shall say, Good-night, Walda.” “Good-night,” said the girl. Everett hesitated. “Will you not say, ‘Good-night, Stephen’?” he asked. Walda stopped knitting. “Why wouldst thou have me say thy name again?” she inquired. For the twentieth time Everett was embarrassed. “Because it is the custom of friends to speak one another’s names,” he explained. “But we are not friends,” said Walda. “At least you will repay me for my long stay here in the colony by speaking my name now and then,” he insisted, hypocritically. There was the barest shadow of a smile on the lips of the future prophetess of Zanah. “Good-night, Stephen,” she said; and because he could find no excuse for lingering longer in the quaint room under the eaves, he went away. X