To each of those who had made sacrifice for the sect, a lot of land in the best part of the city had been awarded.  Heber, Danite and apostle, had built upon his lot, and there she found him at the back of the cottage feeding a mare and foal which were tied in a small plot of ragged grass.  He was much older now than when she had first seen him; daring and danger can lengthen time.  He had the same indomitable frankness in his dark eyes, but his face was hardened and fanaticism was stamped thereon.  It was a homely precinct, with utensils of house and stable-work lying about.  The mare was drinking from a bucket, her gentle head so near his shoulder that her love for him was easily seen.

“I am going away,” Susannah said.  “I have come to thank you for the last time for all your kindness to me and to say good-bye.”

“You shall not go,” he said harshly.

It was the echo of something which she had heard twice before this morning.  This time it began to enter her mind with some sharpness.

“Why not?”

“If you saw a friend hastening to destruction would you not stop her?  It is well known amongst us that you desire to go, and at the meeting of the presidency last night the prophet told us that you sought to apostatise.  Go home, Sister Halsey, and repent, and obtain forgiveness from the Lord and from his prophet for your unbelief.”

She was able to stand for a moment quietly and watch him still busy watering the mare, admiring the skill and gentleness with which he did it, thinking sadly enough that she would never see this remarkable man again, nor know to what the mingled fierceness and gentleness of his nature would grow.  Then she offered him her hand in farewell without further argument.

He shook the mare’s head from his shoulder and, taking her hand, held it in an iron grasp.  “As your friend, and for the sake of that good man, your husband, I beseech you to repent; but if you will not repent, for his sake and for our sakes, because we have prayed for you, you shall still be saved.”

Although beginning to be apprehensive of some coming evil, she smiled; and even rallied him upon one of the new doctrines to which Elvira had alluded.

“Do you believe that if I go away some one else will have to be baptized over again for me?”

He looked at her with the same steadfast glance.  “It could do no good.  Such salvation is for those who die in ignorance of the truth.  But for you, who have been baptized into the truth and have fallen away, there is no hope except repentance or the shedding of blood.”

Over the low paling she heard the neighbours’ children at their play.  Upon the other side was an open lot across which she saw the passers in the street.  She withdrew her hand from his now, but with a sinking at heart which did not appear to her reasonable because the surroundings were so tranquil.

He let her go, accompanying her, as any gentleman might, to the gate of his ground.  As he opened it he had taken something from his coat, and he showed it to her.  It was a knife, very bright and sharp.  Its blade when drawn out had a double edge.  “It will be better for you,” he said mournfully, “to die than to go”; and then he hid the thing again and went back.