“We were talking of love—earthly love,” Walda said, leaving her place beside Everett. “Gerson Brandt, he hath just told me that he loveth.” The school-master’s tall, gaunt form swayed beneath the burden of a great emotion. “Tell me, sir, thou hast not dared to speak of love to the prophetess of Zanah?” he cried. “Yes, I have spoken of love,” said Everett, going to the farther side of the fireplace. “Yes, I have spoken of love.” He was again the cool, well-poised man of the world. Carelessly he took up an old pair of bellows, as he added: “But you need not fear. The prophetess of Zanah did not care to hear about my love.” “Walda, thou wouldst not listen to any man who would dare to speak of love to thee, wouldst thou?” Gerson Brandt asked, in an agony of fear. “Disturb not thyself, Gerson Brandt,” Walda answered. “What harm can there be in Stephen Everett’s declaration that he loveth a woman out in the world?” An expression of relief passed over the face of the school-master. Beads of perspiration stood upon his white forehead. He was shaking so that he had to steady himself against the end of the settle. “Thy time of inspiration is so near that thou shouldst not speak to the stranger,” he said, in a softened tone. “Thou art close to heaven, and it is not wise for thee to commune with any man.” “Must I speak no more with thee, Gerson Brandt?” Walda looked at him with all the tenderness of a deep affection shining in her eyes. Everett watched her as she addressed the school-master. The childish heart and the unawakened soul associated with the majestic form of a woman had fascinated him when he first came to Zanah, but he saw that the face, once as placid as a nun’s, showed the inner disquietude that is the recompense of those who come into a knowledge of the great emotions of life. “Thou wouldst better dwell alone until the great day of the _Untersuchung_,” Gerson Brandt said to Walda. “Go now to thy closet, where thou canst pray until thou forgettest what thou hast heard of earthly love.” Walda started to obey the counsel of the school-master, but she hesitated after she had gone to the door. She glanced at Everett. His tall form was outlined in the fire-light, but she could not see his face, which was in the shadow. “I would speak a last word with Stephen Everett,” she said. Gerson Brandt stood by the door while she went near to Everett. “Since this may be my last meeting with thee, I would offer thee gratitude from my heart for all that thou hast done for my father and for me,” she said. “Thou hast helped me to gain wisdom, Stephen.” “Do not speak of gratitude, Walda. You cannot say good-bye to me here, for I shall see you again.” “Nay, I may not be permitted to see thee again.” She stopped, as if she were taking care to speak wisely. “It is my prayer, Stephen, that thy love shall bring happiness to thee and to the woman upon whom thou hast set thine heart.” She was gone before she could hear Everett’s reply.