“The darkness is falling; I must hasten on,” said Walda, but she did not move. “Where were you going?” asked Everett. “Let me walk with you?” “It is not the custom for the men of Zanah to talk with the women, or to walk with them,” said Walda. “It hath been decreed by the elders that I shall go alone at this hour every night to pray at the grave of Marta Bachmann.” “I am not a man of Zanah. The cemetery is half a mile from here, along a lonely road. Let me go with you?” he pleaded, and, without waiting for an answer, he took her permission for granted. It was the hour for the evening meeting, and the street was quite deserted, so he knew that they ran little risk of being seen together in the dusk of the late summer day. They walked slowly up the hill beyond the bridge. They passed the school-house, and Walda paused to look up at the little window of her father’s room, whence shone a candle-beam. “When I think that through thy help I still have my father, there is so much of gratitude in my heart that I cannot speak it,” she said. “Surely, it will not be long before he is again able to mingle with the colony?” “Not very long, if all goes well,” said Everett. “I hear that he is much needed by the elders of Zanah.” “Bad luck hath come to the mills and the crops. I fear that we have not looked steadfastly to the Lord for guidance. I pray that it may be revealed through me what we shall do to increase the prosperity of Zanah.” They were on the brow of the hill now, and had entered the wavering road, arched with oak and maple trees. Everett was silent for a few minutes while he pondered upon some method by which he could lead the conversation away from general topics. While the girl betrayed no uneasiness in his companionship, he knew that he must use the utmost tact if he would appeal to the woman instead of the prophetess. “And when you are inspired, will you live apart from the people of Zanah?” he said. “You will pardon me, but I have often wondered just what your life will be. Are you never to know the duties and the joys that belong to other women?” “I am to walk close to God. I am to forget self. I am to serve Zanah all my life.” Walda spoke in a solemn tone, and her absolute resignation to the lot that appeared to the man of the world a needless and ridiculous sacrifice awoke a spirit of revolt in Everett’s heart. “Temptations have assailed me,” she confessed, after a pause. “Now and then there hath been a restlessness within me. Thou hast sometimes appeared to me as one sent from Satan, for thou hast painted the great world most alluringly.” Walda drew away from Everett, and he could feel that she was looking at him with fear and distrust. “You misunderstand me,” said Everett. “I know that you live near to heaven, that you are better than the women I know. I reverence you, I—I—”