Walda, who had smiled upon Everett when she saw him coming towards her, put her hand upon her father’s shoulder and persuaded him to be carried back to his room. Gerson Brandt and another man of Zanah lifted the invalid’s chair. Everett opened the side door that they might pass out. Walda, who was anxious for her father’s comfort, would have gone into the rain ahead of them, but Everett reminded her she had not put on her cloak. He stepped up to the chair of the prophetess without taking thought that he might be profaning the place of the elders, and, taking the long garment, put it around her. Although Karl Weisel and the other elders stood by, he calmly fastened the clasp at the neck and drew the hood over the head of the prophetess. Walda, looking up into his face, beheld in the deep-set eyes as they rested upon her something that sent the blood to her face. Gerson Brandt, looking back over his shoulder, saw Everett hold the door open while Walda went through, and he noticed that the strong face of the man of the world had upon it a look of tenderness such as he had never seen before. Everett hesitated a moment as he buttoned his mackintosh. He was uncertain whether to go out into the woods for a long walk or whether to return to the dreary inn. He turned his steps towards the inn, and he had not gone half-way down the hill before he saw Walda coming from the school-house. The prophetess was with Frieda Bergen, and behind them walked two of the village “mothers.” Everett let them pass him, but he noticed with a pang that Walda appeared not to see him as he stood with uncovered head while she walked by. “The elders have asked me to entreat thee to overcome this love that thou hast confessed,” he heard Walda say to Frieda Bergen; but they had gone beyond ear-shot before the girl replied. They went into the inn, whither Everett followed them after a time. Walda drew Frieda Bergen to the settle near the fire which Everett had kindled. “Thou seemest so happy in thy sin that I would know what is thy feeling,” said Walda. “Thou hast the look of one to whom heaven hath been revealed.” “A great joy hath come to me, Walda. If it is wicked to love, then would I continue in my sin,” answered Frieda. “Hast thou never known the temptation of love? Hast thou never seen one who maketh the world seem better to thee?” “Gerson Brandt and Stephen Everett have taught me much,” said Walda, “but no one hath ever tempted me to forget God and to worship man. Doth not thy conscience make thee repentant?” “Nay, I cannot believe that it is wicked to love.” “How didst thou come to know that thou lovest?” “One day, as we worked together, Joseph Hoff looked at me through the trellis of a hop-vine. He was on one side and I was on the other. My heart trembled, and thenceforth his face was often before me.” “That is but a small matter. The stranger in Zanah hath sometimes made my heart leap, but that meaneth naught.”