“I know that thou hast been sent to me by divine dispensation,” she continued. “But since the spirit of prophecy hath begun to come to me, thou dost stir my heart. I know that I must withdraw from association with thee and with my people. To-night there cometh over me a vague alarm. I am happy near thee, and yet I fear this peace may vanish.” “You cannot deny me the privilege of speaking to you in these few days before the _Untersuchung_,” Everett answered. He gently took the hand Walda had hidden in her gown, and, holding it in a firm clasp, said: “I have a mind never to let you go from me, Walda. I need you all my life. I cannot look forward to the years out there in the world without you.” “Dost thou mean, Stephen, that thou wouldst stay here in Zanah serving the Lord with the men of the colony? Stay for the good of thy soul?” Everett pictured himself attired in colony garb and meekly accepting the orders of Adolph Schneider and Karl Weisel; but, holding Walda’s hand, the absurdity of such a position became every second less apparent to him. He felt that no sacrifice could be too great if it kept him near to the prophetess of Zanah. “Do you want me to stay, Walda?” he asked. “Yea, Stephen, even if I might not speak to thee, it would cheer me to look upon thy face. I have thought much of thy going away, and I have felt that Zanah will be dreary without thee. Sometimes I have feared lest I might be tempted to carry thine image in my heart. It is gratitude that maketh thee thus inhabit my thoughts.” “It is not your gratitude that I want, Walda,” Stephen said. “No, you cannot take away your hand. I want to hold it while I talk to you. In these few weeks in Zanah I have come to know that you will be always the one woman who can command all my reverence, my respect, and my allegiance. You have taught me that I have lived too much for self; you have aroused in me an impulse to make more of my opportunities. You have become my good angel. I cannot go back to the world, and to a lazy, careless existence. I have forsaken my old idols, Walda.” “Thou hast builded thee a new altar, Stephen. And now thou wilt not profane it.” It was the prophetess, not the woman, who spoke. Walda had forgotten all the vague alarm. She was looking upon Stephen as a new disciple of Zanah whom she was glad to welcome into the fold. “Yes, I have a new altar upon which I am willing to sacrifice all my old habits, my previous interests,” he confessed. “To it I bring the incense of love and service and loyalty. Before it I feel my own unworthiness. Walda, I am but an ordinary man, one who has been content to live for the day. Since I came to Zanah, my future years have a new meaning.” “When a man turneth his footsteps towards heaven, then, indeed, the future is glorified. Henceforth thou wilt press onward towards the gates of heaven.” “But, Walda, I may find the gates closed, after all. Don’t you know it is you who hold the key?”