“Art thou like Solomon? Hast thou gold that thou keepest from the poor and hungry?” Walda placed the picture upon the table and withdrew several steps from Everett. “I am not like Solomon, Walda,” Everett replied, with an uncomfortable feeling that he belonged to a useless class. “But you have money so that you live without work?” “Yes,” admitted Everett, with some reluctance. “He carrieth much silver with him,” said Hans Peter, who had listened intently to the conversation. “He hath tossed me many a piece when I have run errands for him.” “Oh, thou dost give away thy money?” Walda’s tone betrayed her relief at the thought that, after all, Everett might not be altogether selfish. “Yes, I give away some of my money,” Stephen answered; “but I have not done half the good with it that I should. Perhaps I may learn here in Zanah how to employ my time and my money to better advantage.” “Now, indeed, I know that the Lord hath sent thee here for thine own good.” “Sometimes I am not so sure of it, Walda,” said Everett, and, turning quickly, he took up his hat. He pushed open the door, motioned to the simple one to pass out first, hesitated a moment, and then returned to Walda’s side. “Don’t think of me as such a bad man,” he said. “Nay, there is something in my heart that maketh me believe only that thou art wise and true.” Quickly he left the room, and as he went down the stairs he reflected that one of the first steps in wisdom is that which takes a man away from a great temptation. Walda, standing alone by the table, thought of many things, and then, strangely enough, Piepmatz, looking from his little cage, whistled the notes of the love-song that Everett had taught him. XI After leaving Walda, Stephen Everett walked far out into the country. At first he did not try to analyze his thoughts. He felt an unwonted buoyancy and hope. Between him and the brilliant sky he saw the face of the future prophetess of Zanah. He felt her sweet presence, and gradually he came into a knowledge that the girl was gaining a mastering power over him. Because he was more or less of a trifler in the great world of action, he had been willing to stay in the colony long enough to gain some new impressions. At first the girl had been only a central figure in a quaint picture that seemed to belong to another time and to another country. There had been days that had bored him, and a hundred times he had repented of his rash pledge that held him in Zanah for an indefinite period. Now he knew that Walda Kellar had become to him more than a passing acquaintance. As he hastened away from the village, his first exultation in having gained from her something of a personal recognition led him to think of his own motives in attempting to win what he called the friendship of this woman of Zanah.