The woman of the house brought her for food an unusual delicacy.  Smith had ordered this.  Mrs. Biery made some remarks concerning him.  She said that his coat seemed very old, but that he had given her money and bid her attend diligently upon the sick man and his wife.  Susannah, who knew how little money the Smiths had hitherto possessed, how many things they must want for themselves, was touched.

As her spirits revived, her faith and hope in the new sect revived also.  She looked among the few possessions Halsey had brought with him for the precious copy of the Book of Mormon, and sat reading it by Angel’s bedside while the autumn sun was sinking.

Sometimes she heard a traveller stop at the inn door and pass on again.  At dusk there was a sounds of horses coming with speed.  To her surprise Joseph Smith came into the room again.  He looked as if he had been riding hard, but he spoke as quietly as though he had gone only from that room to the next.

“I have brought a gentleman who can marry you according to the law of the State.”  Susannah had gone forward to greet him, but now she looked suddenly back toward the unconscious man, whose form was almost indistinguishable in the dusk.

Smith brought candles and set them at the foot of the bed.  He took Halsey by the hand and lifted him to a sitting posture, telling him in clear strong tones what was required of him.  Halsey understood.  He became completely conscious under Smith’s influence, and for the hour almost strong.  He would know where he was and how he came there, who the minister was that had come.  He even required that this stranger should show his license to marry.

The minister was a common-looking man, small, shaggy as to the beard, business-like.  He knew nothing of Joseph Smith’s prophetical claims, and cared only to know that Susannah was over eighteen years of age.  Marriage was a thing easily accomplished in that day and region.  A few minutes more and Susannah was a wife.

In after years, when she used to think of Angel Halsey as having gone before her into the unseen, Susannah held the belief that the part of him which she would meet there would be that which shone out in the rare half-playful smiles he gave, in the glance which, at the moment of smiling, he bent on her.  He was a very grave man, shrewd, in many ways, in others as simple as a child, but above all greatly religious.  His religion, however deep might be its root, was also always upon the surface.  Only now and then, when, as at their first meeting, he recognised in his serious way that something else was required if he would truly hold communion with Susannah, the smile would come as from some inward part of his spirit, like a dawning light slowly breaking through the surface, soon withdrawn again by the power of custom.  When he thus smiled, Susannah in those days trusted him absolutely, avowed herself entirely to his service, and felt within her heart a large measure of affection.