She cast her eyes far in among the trunks of the close-growing trees, upon one side and then upon another, as if looking for a way of escape.  Yes, surely her faith in Angel’s creed had been hurt beyond recovery, and she must free herself, but how?  She dallied with Ephraim’s offer of asylum because she could think of no other.

“Yes,” she said mechanically; “yes, but how can I?”

“Oh, my dear cousin, don’t you see that it is wrong for you to stay one day longer here?  If you believed at first that the bond that united you to this man was binding, you do not believe it now.  You were so young when you went, yet the thing cannot be undone on that account.  You were so beautiful that I had hoped a great and prosperous life lay before you.  Now, of course, that cannot be, but—­but—­at least you can live a life of peace, live truly and nobly, using your faculties to glorify God.”

She began to see that he was trying to work up to something else that he had to say.  She followed him heedfully, knowing that with Ephraim the steps in an argument were important.  He saw some way out which she did not see, and her whole mind paused in eager listening.

He turned and faced her again, lifting his eyes, holding out his hand; his voice, usually weak, was strong.  She knew that it was a strong man who spoke to her.

“Susannah, will you take my name and protection?”

She gazed at him incredulous, and then, beginning to understand what it was that he thought, and all that he meant, she leaned against one of the cold gray tree trunks, weeping weakly like a child.

“But I am married,” the words came with a long sobbing sigh.

“Not legally?” and then he added, “nor in God’s sight.”

“Yes, yes, oh! you are making a great mistake, Ephraim.  Joseph Smith and my husband are not like that.  A minister came and did it.  He had his license, and we have the paper he signed.”

Ephraim set his teeth hard together and kept silence.  He said to himself that he might have known that the rascals would be clever enough to make the tie secure.

Susannah wept on, not loudly, but with long convulsive sighs that broke into the tears she was endeavouring to check.

“And, Ephraim, my husband is good—­oh, very good, and very kind to me, and up to last night I thought that what he believed might be true.  I was not sure, but I thought that Joseph Smith might be a prophet.  I knew they were far, far better than the other people who despise them, and so I was glad to be with them; and up till last night” (she repeated the words, controlling herself to give them emphasis)—­“up till last night I thought that they at least believed everything they said to be true.”