He was thankful for the opportunity her daily prayers at the tomb of Marta Bachmann gave him to meet her, but the next night after he had walked with her to the little cemetery he had seen her cross the bridge accompanied by no less a person than Mother Schneider herself. He had been compelled to pace restlessly back and forth among the trees, keeping out of sight lest his presence might be discovered.
On the third night he watched for Walda at the point where the road reached the shore of the lake. It was late, and he had almost given up hope of seeing her when she came slowly towards him. For an hour he had been reconnoitring the whole distance between the lake and the cemetery. And now, when he beheld her, he felt as if he must claim her by the right of his love for her. His better judgment, however, told him that he must be circumspect in his wooing. One impetuous word might put her on her guard. The touch of his hand had given her a prescience of danger, for, according to her belief, love was the greatest danger that could beset her path. When Walda saw him she appeared surprised at the chance encounter. It was evident she had no suspicion that he had deliberately waylaid her.
“It is good that I should meet thee here, Stephen,” she said, “for my heart is so full of joy I feel as if I must share my gladness with some one.”
“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?”