Susannah explained that she had determined to go to Carthage that day, where she hoped soon to find some party of travellers in whose escort she could travel farther; she hoped that it would be quite convenient for Emma to return the money that morning.

Smith gazed at Susannah intently, but only for a few moments.  It seemed that his mood had changed entirely, that he was now too much absorbed in the business of the day, whatever it might be, to care whether she went or stayed.  He left them, saying that he would send money to Emma as soon as he could, that the trifling debt might be paid.

Money flowed in such easy streams through the hands of the leading men of Nauvoo, that Susannah supposed that a messenger with the required amount would come up the stairs in a few minutes.  She sat with Emma in this expectation.

“You are offended with me for going?” she asked, for Emma’s mask of indifference was worn obviously.

“You wish to destroy your soul,” said Emma.

“Ah, but you know, you have long known, that I do not believe that salvation in this world or the next depends on the rites of Mr. Smith’s Church.”

“If I told this child that he would be dashed to pieces if he walked out of the window, and he did not believe me, would that save him?”

Emma made this inquiry with triumphant scorn; then she rose and began to attend to the wants of her children in a bustling manner.

Susannah sighed and smiled.  “I have at least the right to reject your faith at my own peril, for there is not in the wide world, as far as I know, man or woman who cares whether I save my soul or not.”

“And whose fault?” cried Emma, coarse now in her discomposure.  “If you are so stuck-up that you think you can read your books and look down on us all, just because you are a beauty and the gentlemen bow down to you, ’tisn’t likely that you’d have any friends acting that way.  You can’t even behave civil to the gentlemen when they offer you the best that’s going.”

It was evident that some version of Smith’s interviews with her had been given to his wife.  Susannah wondered how much truth, how much fiction, had been in the relation.  It did not matter much to her now, since she had resolved to go at once.  The whole of her life with that troublous sect seemed to be dropping from her like a dream.

Leaving word that she would receive the money on her return or else call at Smith’s office for it when she was ready, she went down into the cheerful noise of the street and bargained with a man who had horses and vehicles for hire.  Having arranged that he should come for her at noon, she went about to make the few farewells she felt to be desirable.