that Gentile boy was treated in Glaze for fooling round a Mormon woman.  Marry Tull.  It’s your duty as a Mormon.  You’ll feel no rapture as his wife—­but think of Heaven!  Mormon women don’t marry for what they expect on earth.  Take up the cross, Jane.  Remember your father found Amber Spring, built these old houses, brought Mormons here, and fathered them.  You are the daughter of Withersteen!”

Jane left Mary Brandt and went to call upon other friends.  They received her with the same glad welcome as had Mary, lavished upon her the pent-up affection of Mormon women, and let her go with her ears ringing of Tull, Venters, Lassiter, of duty to God and glory in Heaven.

“Verily,” murmured Jane, “I don’t know myself when, through all this, I remain unchanged—­nay, more fixed of purpose.”

She returned to the main street and bent her thoughtful steps toward the center of the village.  A string of wagons drawn by oxen was lumbering along.  These “sage-freighters,” as they were called, hauled grain and flour and merchandise from Sterling, and Jane laughed suddenly in the midst of her humility at the thought that they were her property, as was one of the three stores for which they freighted goods.  The water that flowed along the path at her feet, and turned into each cottage-yard to nourish garden and orchard, also was hers, no less her private property because she chose to give it free.  Yet in this village of Cottonwoods, which her father had founded and which she maintained she was not her own mistress; she was not able to abide by her own choice of a husband.  She was the daughter of Withersteen.  Suppose she proved it, imperiously!  But she quelled that proud temptation at its birth.

Nothing could have replaced the affection which the village people had for her; no power could have made her happy as the pleasure her presence gave.  As she went on down the street past the stores with their rude platform entrances, and the saloons where tired horses stood with bridles dragging, she was again assured of what was the bread and wine of life to her—­that she was loved.  Dirty boys playing in the ditch, clerks, teamsters, riders, loungers on the corners, ranchers on dusty horses little girls running errands, and women hurrying to the stores all looked up at her coming with glad eyes.

Jane’s various calls and wandering steps at length led her to the Gentile quarter of the village.  This was at the extreme southern end, and here some thirty Gentile families lived in huts and shacks and log-cabins and several dilapidated cottages.  The fortunes of these inhabitants of Cottonwoods could be read in their abodes.  Water they had in abundance, and therefore grass and fruit-trees and patches of alfalfa and vegetable gardens.  Some of the men and boys had a few stray cattle, others obtained such intermittent employment as the Mormons reluctantly tendered them.  But none of the families was prosperous, many were very poor, and some lived only by Jane Withersteen’s beneficence.