In an instant Walda compelled silence. She raised her arms in a warning gesture, and shamed the people by the contempt she showed for their weakness as she looked down upon them.
“How are ye fitted to judge the stranger in Zanah?” she asked, in a scornful tone. “Have ye the Christian charity the Bible enjoins you to cherish in your hearts? If there is any one to be blamed for the loss of your prophetess it is I, Walda Kellar, that should bear it all. But again I tell you there is naught concerning love of which I would repent.”
“She would defy Heaven!” shouted Mother Kaufmann. “Let the elders take her away that the sight of her shall not breed sinful thoughts of love in the hearts of the maidens of Zanah.”
“Yea, lock her up until she cometh to her right mind,” said the old hag, waving her hands to invite the elders’ attention.
The uproar became deafening. Gerson Brandt stepped forward where he could stand between Walda and the mob. Through all the commotion Everett, with difficulty, had restrained himself from rushing out to protect Walda from the maddened colonists, but he realized that his appearance would but fan the flame of wrath and increase the confusion.
In the centre of the women’s division of the out-door chapel Mother Schneider and her daughter Gretchen had been sitting. Both had taken little part in the demonstration against the fallen prophetess. When Gerson Brandt was seen to move forward on the platform Mother Schneider said to the women near her:
“It is a sorry day when the women of Zanah are permitted to hear a maiden boast of a love that knoweth no bounds. It is an indecent confession that Walda Kellar maketh. Truly, she belongeth to the class of women that should be stoned.”
“It is such as she that cast wicked spells upon men. Behold, the elders fear to discipline her,” answered a mother, who that day had been promoted to the highest grade of the colony because she testified that she had found earthly love an unholy thing.
“She should be stoned! She should be stoned!” repeated the women; and the words passed from mouth to mouth until they reached a boy who loitered on the edge of the crowd. The boy picked up a flat stone, and, aiming it at Walda, threw it with all the force at his command. It sailed above the heads of the people. Gerson Brandt, with a quick movement, pulled Walda aside. The stone struck him on the forehead, making a deep gash, from which the blood coursed down his cheek. Walda, with a woman’s quick instinct of ministration, undid the kerchief around her neck, and gave it to Gerson Brandt.
“Stanch the blood with this,” she said, and when he made no effort to take it, she pressed it against his cheek.