“Now, sobersides, it must end—­this foolishness of yours—­”

She stopped, waiting for some question of his to help her.  But he said nothing, though she could feel the burning of his eyes upon her.

“This superstitious folly, you know,” she blurted out, looking up at him in sudden desperation.

“Tell me what you mean—­you must know I’m impatient.”

She essayed to be playful again, pouting her dimpled face near to his that he might kiss her.  But he did not seem to see.  He only waited.

“Well—­this religion—­this Mormonism—­”

She shot one swift look at him, then went on quickly.

“My people have left the church, and—­I—­too—­they found things in Joseph Smith’s teachings that seemed bad to them.  They went to Springfield.  I would have gone, too, but I told them I wanted first to see you and—­and see if you would not come with us—­at least for awhile, not taking the poor old father and mother through all that wretchedness.  They consented to let me stay with your parents on condition that Captain Girnway would protect them and me.  He—­he—­is very kind—­and had known us since last winter and had seen me—­us—­several times.  I hadn’t the heart to tell your father; he was so set on going to the new Zion, but you will come, won’t you?”

“Wait a moment!” He put a hand upon her arm as if to arrest her speech.  “You daze me.  Let me think.”  She looked up at him, wondering at his face, for it showed strength and bitterness and gentleness all in one look—­and he was suffering.  She put her hand upon his, from an instinct of pity.  The touch recalled him.

“Now—­for the beginning.”  He spoke with aroused energy, a little wistful smile softening the strain of his face.  “You were wise to give me food, else I couldn’t have solved this mystery.  To the beginning, then:  You, Prudence Corson, betrothed to me these three years and more; you have been buried in the waters of baptism and had your washings and anointings in the temple of the most high God.  Is it not so?  Your eyes were anointed that they might be quick to see, your ears that they might be apt at hearing, your mouth that you might with wisdom speak the words of eternal life, and your feet that they might be swift to run in the ways of the Lord.  You accepted thereby the truth that the angel of God had delivered to Joseph Smith the sealing keys of power.  You accepted the glorious articles of the new covenant.  You were about to be sealed up to me for time and eternity.  Now—­I am lost—­what is it?—­your father and mother have left the church, and because of what?”

“Because of bad things, because of this doctrine they practise—­this wickedness of spiritual wives, plural wives.  Think of it, Joel—­that if I were your wife you might take another.”