Читать книгу Walda. A Novel онлайн

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The close of the summer day began to be noticed. The sun sank behind the bluffs. Everett idly watched the workers in the vineyard prepare to go home. The women were first to leave their tasks, and, with Mother Werther at the head of the procession, they walked two and two towards the road. As they walked they sang a dismal strain. The wagons creaked as the wheels sank deeply into the soil, and marching beside them went the men, carrying upon their shoulders scythes and rakes, which they had used in an adjoining hay-field. The vineyard toilers wound down the hill-side. All had apparently forgotten Everett, who had found a place where he could lie upon the ground with his head pillowed upon a smooth rock. The peace and quiet of the evening soothed him, and again, for the hundredth time in the day, he thought of Walda Kellar. As if his thoughts were suggested by her proximity, he saw, coming from the hay-field, the prophetess of Zanah. She was leading a little child by the hand, and behind her silently followed several of the “mothers” of the colony. The women carried upon their heads great bundles of hay, while back of them moved the harvest wagons, piled high with heavy loads taken from the great stacks that dotted the broad fields. Walda appeared not to notice the stranger, who lay quietly watching her. She was talking in a low, soothing tone to the child, which apparently had been crying for its mother. When Walda was within a few feet of him, Everett quickly rose, but he hesitated to address her. With uncovered head, he waited until she might see him. When she was very near him she raised her eyes and started, as if surprised to find the stranger in the vineyard. She would have passed on, but he detained her by seizing upon the pretext that she must be interested in hearing about her father, whom he had seen after she left the sick-room. He said: