“Thou art sure that my father would have had it so?”
“Yes, Walda; I would have gained his consent. You are to forget all the troubles that my love has brought to you. I shall try to atone for every heartache of these last few days.”
“Our love was sent from heaven. Truly thou believest that?”
“Fate has given you to me. You must not ask any more questions. We are to begin to be happy now.” He stroked her cheek and soothed her as if she were a child, and his great strength gave her confidence. “The first thing that I shall do will be to send for your white gown, so that you can take off this mourning,” he said, lightly, when he saw that she was more composed. “I bought from the elders the white gown and the red cloak, for both have a significance for us—both have marked great days in our lives.”
She smiled faintly, and he began to unpin the black cap that she wore. It was securely fastened to her fair hair. He had to ask her assistance in getting rid of it. When it was loosened he threw it on the floor, and then walked off to look at her. She was very pale, after the sorrow and excitement of the day. Her black gown accentuated the fairness of her skin, and her clear-cut features were brought out in relief against the dark back of the chair.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said, with the fervor of sincerity. “How often you will hear your praises sung when you belong to the world.”
“Art thou teaching me vanity so soon, Stephen?” she exclaimed, with a sigh, for she was in no mood for gayety.
“I am half afraid to take you into the world,” he answered, with some seriousness. “You see, I have my misgivings. But you did not tell me what disturbed you. Come over here to Mother Werther’s sofa, where you can whisper to me all the vague fears of your heart.”
“Thou knowest I shall need thy charity oftentimes,” Walda said, after Stephen had made her rest her head upon his shoulder. “I shall not understand many of thy ways—even thy thoughts will be too deep for me to understand.”
Everett laughed.