“Who told you all this?”

“I am sorry to say that I had it on good authority.  Some of the western brethren had it from a poor fellow who had been deluded into entering the Mormon community, and had barely escaped with his life when he desired to withdraw.”

“Would you consider a pervert from your own sect the best witness of its tenets?  But you say that you saw my cousin?”

Finney told what had led him to the village of Hiram, and said, “When I spoke of the sins of the Mormons, a young woman seated near the front of the congregation rose up.  It was your cousin.  I saw at once by the pallor of her face that the Lord was having direct dealing with her soul.  The ‘power’ was indeed very great; a strong man fell as dead near her, who before the night was over gave testimony of sound conversion.  After he and your cousin had been led out, many others in different parts of the building cried to God for mercy.  When the sermon was over I sought for your cousin, but when I told who she was, the people of the place said that no doubt Mormon messengers had come while she was waiting, and forced her to depart.  That night there was a disturbance in the place; some of the more hot-headed men had the leaders out, and tarred and feathered them—­a dastardly deed!  I have been threatened myself with being rid on a rail and tarred when the devil stirred up the people against my preaching, but the Lord mercifully preserved me.  ’Tis a shameful practice, but I hear it was done to these men to intimidate them from the more violent crimes which they had conspired to commit.  In the morning I was forced to go, as I was advertised to preach at many stations farther on, or I would have denounced the violence from the pulpit.  I could not find out anything more concerning your cousin, but the Lord has never allowed me to doubt that the many prayers which we have offered on her behalf were answered that night, for I could see by the expression of her face that she, like those upon the day of Pentecost, was cut to the heart.”

At the garden gate, under the boughs of the quince-tree, which had increased its branches since the day in which Susannah had last passed under them, Ephraim now stood in the moonlight, barring the entrance.  At length with a sigh he said, “Alas!  Finney, I believe that there are few souls under heaven more true and more worthy than your own; but as for the power of God, ’His way is in the sea and his path in the great waters, but his footsteps are not known.’”

Out of his breast Ephraim took a thin leather book, and from out of the book gave Finney a letter much worn with reading.

Finney took the letter reverently, and read it by the light of his bedroom candle.  In those days letters were more formally written; this one from Susannah to Ephraim began with wishes concerning her aunt and uncle and the prosperity of the household.  The fine flowing writing filled the large sheet.