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“Where is Walda?” she asked. Gerson Brandt made a little gesture towards the alcove.

“She hath no right to come here alone,” the woman replied, with a frown. “She is my care, and she hath done a foolish act. I shall forbid her to leave the House of the Women without me.”

“Walda was drawn hither by anxiety concerning her father,” said Gerson Brandt. “Thou wilt not wound her by a reprimand, Sister Kaufmann?”

The woman went near to him and spoke in guttural German some words that Everett could not catch, but from her furtive looks and glances he knew she was talking of him.

Walda passed through the room. Everett raised his eyes and they met the girl’s glance. Then he bent his head in deferential recognition of her presence. It was only a second that each had gazed at the other, but the man from the outside world felt a heart-throb. He spilled the powder on the tablecloth, and after he had brushed it off he hastily took up his hat. He went down-stairs, Gerson Brandt and Mother Kaufmann following him to ask about his patient. The three stood in the little porch talking of Wilhelm Kellar. From the garden, Walda, who stood among the flowers, watched them as if she would hear every word. Involuntarily she was drawn to the little group.