Читать книгу Walda. A Novel онлайн

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Gerson Brandt sat alone in his school-room. His elbows were propped on the worn lid of his black, oaken desk, and his chin was supported in the palms of his hands. His face had a worried look. The lines about his mouth had deepened within the last few days, and his heavy brows were drawn together. He was wondering what could have happened to the precious Bible. Now that he had become accustomed to the changes brought about in the routine of his daily life by the illness of Wilhelm Kellar, he sorely missed the pleasant task of each day making a letter or two upon the pages of the Sacred Word. It had been his joy and his recreation, after the long school sessions, to turn to his pens and his colored inks. Line by line he had wrought the delicate traceries with many a thought of Walda and many a prayer for her well-being. He had dwelt so long in the faith that inspired Zanah that he had felt in the hope of her inspiration a peculiar satisfaction and contentment. He was a poet and a dreamer, so he found it not hard to believe that this girl of Zanah would be given a special power not vouchsafed to many souls that come into the great domain of sin.