“And I should have remembered that I am not the judge,” said Gerson Brandt. “I should not have let myself take vengeance into mine own hand. When thou art the prophetess thou wilt become my teacher, and, Walda, I am half glad I shall need thine aid to overcome sin.”
“Thou hast been my teacher so long it seemeth I could never have any wisdom greater than thine.”
Gerson Brandt looked into her eyes.
“Being a woman, thou hast wisdom and power of which thou little dreamest,” he said.
“If I have aught of wisdom, it is because thou hast been my guide ever since I was a child. Gerson Brandt, thou hast been nearer to me than my father; thou hast been more to me than all the brothers in the colony.”
“It hath always seemed, Walda, that thou wert sent to reconcile me to life in Zanah. Thy presence hath helped me to overcome all rebellion. Having prayed for the time of thine inspiration, it is a struggle for me to give thee up. It is as if I were losing thee, even though thou wilt still be in the colony.”
“Nay, Gerson, it seemeth to me that when the light of inspiration cometh to me thou must share it, for, after all, it is thy knowledge and thy faith that is in me. There hath come to me lately something of the illumination thou hast told me to expect, Gerson Brandt. There are days when it is as if I stood on the threshold of heaven. My heart is lifted up with a strange joy. I hear harmony in the rustling of the leaves in the trees and the flowing of the water under the bridge and the faint night-sounds that come to mine ears when the village hath gone to sleep. Long after the curfew-bell hath sounded I open my casement and look out into the sky. It is then I feel the vastness of the universe, and yet know that God hath not forgotten me.”
As Walda spoke her face was radiant with new joy, and Gerson Brandt knew she was even then far removed from him.
“Thou lookest from thy casement every night? Dost thou gaze at the moon?” he asked.
“Yea, Gerson Brandt, I look long at the moon.”