“What has happened to make you so happy?” Everett asked. He saw that there was a radiance in her face, and that her eyes shone with an unusual brilliance. “There hath been no outward experience different from those that come to me every day,” she said. “But, Stephen, my heart is lifted up exceedingly. I feel in me a new strength. My spirit dwelleth in dreams.” “Dreams, Walda? What are your dreams like?” “They are misty—formless. It is as if a light were just breaking over the darkness of my soul. I feel the whisperings of a divine knowledge; a marvellous power hath been given to me. Stephen, I know the inspiration is coming to me. All my doubts are vanishing. I feel very near to God.” She was transfigured with the intensity of her emotions. In her exaltation of spirit she was so aloof from Everett that he stood dumb before her. “Stephen, hast thou nothing to say? Dost thou not rejoice with me?” “I am glad to know that you are happy, Walda; but being just a man of the world, I am selfish enough to feel unreconciled to your separation from me. Walda, I crave a little part of your thoughts. I want to share your joy. And now I behold you carried so far away from me that I cannot even comprehend the transformation which is taking place in you. Is it prayer that is raising your spirit above the earth?” “It is not prayer alone that hath made me behold new glories, Stephen, for through all my years spent in Zanah I have prayed unceasingly. Thou hast helped to open mine eyes; thou hast been the messenger that hath turned my face to the light. Verily, it is written that the Lord doth choose mysterious ways by which to work his will.” For a moment Everett felt he was, indeed, a hypocrite. He was not an egotist, but his hopes, which a moment before had been cast down by the girl’s extraordinary rapture, now rose, for he perceived that he had, indeed, gained an influence over her. “I want to talk to you, Walda,” Everett said, after he had thought for a moment. “Come with me down to the shore of the lake, where there is a log that makes a comfortable seat.” Walda hesitated. “Nay, Stephen, I must hasten to Marta Bachmann’s grave.” “Don’t you think that sometimes it may be better to talk with the living than to pray with the dead?” Everett asked. “I thought you were interested in my welfare. Don’t you know that a few words from you may change my whole life?” “If I could lead thee towards heaven it would be my duty to speak with thee.” “Well, you can lead me to heaven.”