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BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
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BY ORDER OF 
 THE PROPHET 
 
 A TALE OF U TAH 
 
 BY 
 
 ALFRED H. HENRY 
 
 Illustrated by E. S. Paxson 
 
 CHICAGO, NEW YORK, TORONTO 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 LONDON & EDINBURGH 
 
 M C M I I 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1902, 
 BY FLEMING H. 
 REVELL COMPANY 
 
 June 
 
 • • • .• • 
 
 • • » • I 
 
 • •• • 
 
 • • •* I 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
 M?sSD 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 In the fertile valley of Utah, lying in the heart of 
 the Rockies, there is material for a score of books. 
 Some day its full history shall have been written, 
 and with its writing must come a revelation of con- 
 ditions that have been well concealed during the three- 
 quarters of a century, in which IMormonism has been 
 developing. 
 
 This book deals with but one phase of that life — it 
 is true in every essential feature, and is in strict accord 
 with established facts. 
 
 It is not an attack upon Mormonism. It is simply 
 a story, dealing with certain admitted conditions, and 
 making some small use of the dramatic materials, which 
 the unimpeachable history of the times has furnished. 
 It has no slighting word to speak in disparagement of 
 the sturdy strength, untiring energy and singular 
 devotion that marked the lives of the men and women 
 who did pioneer work in the midst of incredible 
 difficulties, and whose sons and daughters are rising to 
 a better understanding and, it maybe, to a purer faith. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAQB 
 
 I. 
 
 Carissa Graham 
 
 
 9 
 
 II. 
 
 Whitmonday at Gwennap Pit . 
 
 
 i8 
 
 III. 
 
 Mr. Brand's Lodgings Are Changed . 
 
 
 28 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thomas Batt's Testimony . 
 
 
 37 
 
 V. 
 
 Mr. Brand Declares His Mission 
 
 
 44 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Course of Events 
 
 
 52 
 
 VII. 
 
 A Veiled Courtship .... 
 
 
 62 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Mr. Busby Asks a Few Questions— A 
 
 Mormon 
 
 
 
 Service ..•••• 
 
 
 71 
 
 IX. 
 
 Carissa Acts on Her Convictions 
 
 
 83 
 
 X. 
 
 Ambitious Projects 
 
 
 
 . 93 
 
 XI. 
 
 First Principles . . . • 
 
 
 
 . 105 
 
 XII. 
 
 A Cry in the Night 
 
 
 
 . 121 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The Cat Out of the Bag 
 
 
 
 . 128 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A Glimpse of Winter Quarters . 
 
 
 
 . 144 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Start Overland 
 
 
 
 . 154 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Bits of Color by the Way . 
 
 
 
 . 164 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Breaking Ground. 
 
 
 
 . 176 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A Dance at Fort Laramie . 
 
 
 
 . 187 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Love and Scruples 
 
 
 
 . 197 
 
 XX. 
 
 The Disclosure . 
 
 
 
 . 202 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Introduction to the Valley . 
 
 
 
 . 214 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The Lion of the Lord . 
 
 
 
 . 222 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Reception at the Beehive . 
 
 
 
 . 231 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Obedience to Counsel . 
 
 
 
 . 242 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Extracts from Carissa' s Journal 
 7 
 
 
 
 . 251 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAITER 
 
 PAdB 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The Bishop's Visit 262 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The De\nl in the Valley 
 
 
 
 
 
 270 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 Materialism . 
 
 
 
 
 
 2S1 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The Hope of Escape . 
 
 
 
 
 
 287 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The Ceremony of Divorce 
 
 
 
 
 
 293 
 
 •XXXI. 
 
 The Awakening . 
 
 
 
 
 
 304 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A Stolen Interview 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 315 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Christmas Doings 
 
 
 
 
 
 325 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Quibble's Diplomacy . 
 
 
 
 
 
 334 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Carissa's Departure , 
 
 
 
 
 
 344 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Osborne's Departure . 
 
 
 
 
 
 353 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 In Cache Valley . 
 
 
 
 
 
 361 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Maggie's Interference 
 
 
 
 
 
 371 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Alone .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 381 
 
 XL. 
 
 What Came After the Storn 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 393 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Routine of Travel Soon Became a Matter of Course 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 She Seemed the Ver>' Personification of This Entire Move- 
 ment 150 
 
 He Went to Her and Put His Hand Upon Her Shoulder 200 
 
 He Studied the Easy Attitude of the Sleeper . . . .247 
 She Tried to Leave Him There but Something Held Her 369 
 
BY ORDER OF 
 THE PROPHET 
 
 CHAPTER I . , .v; ;;.. . .., ,,.,,. 
 CARISSA GRAHAM 
 
 Carissa Graham had grown from girlhood to woman- 
 hood under purely masculine guardianship. Later 
 this fact was recalled in explanation of her singular 
 course. At the time of this story, however, when 
 she was just completing her eighteenth year, the out- 
 come promised to disarm adverse criticism. For the 
 shrinking, shy, unformed child, who had brought the 
 burden of a recent sorrow into her uncle's great house 
 and had found there no feminine arms to receive her, 
 and no motherly voice to comfort her, was, by some 
 process, transformed into a trusting, sweet-faced, gen- 
 erous-hearted girl, who had won her way into the 
 affectionate admiration of all. 
 
 There were some, however, even at this time, who 
 felt that in view of all the circumstances there was still 
 room for gloomy forebodings. Mrs. Chamberlayne 
 was one of these. She also felt that her unquestioned 
 love for the girl, and interest in her, should permit 
 considerable freedom in the expression of her views. 
 
 "It isn't Arthur Gordon's doings if she does turn out 
 well," she remarked energetically to Miss Jayne, the 
 village schoolmistress. "For all he's done for his sis- 
 ter's motherless child, she might have become any- 
 thing. 'Be like your mother, Carissa; she was a fine 
 
 9 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 woman,' is all the advice he has known how to give 
 her." 
 
 "Mr. Gordon seems very proud of his niece, though," 
 urged Miss Jayne, hesitatingly. 
 
 "Proud ot her! Well he may be! but he needn't 
 take to himself much credit. When he brought her 
 
 o 
 
 home afcer the funeral, she clung to him, sobbing and 
 frightened. I was there and saw it, poor dear! He 
 just kissed her and petted her, and when she was quiet 
 turned her over to the housekeeper. Since that day 
 she's had no proper discipline. She's done as she 
 liked ever since, and gone where she pleased, and he's 
 known nothing of her really. ** 
 
 "But I don't see that it has spoiled her," Miss Jayne 
 persisted, timidly. "You say yourself that there's no 
 lovelier girl in the parish, and Dr. Brooks " 
 
 "Yes, and Mr. Busby too," Mrs. Chamberlayne inter- 
 rupted, with impatient contempt. "They think she's 
 perfect. But who are they? And what sort of judges 
 of a young woman's training? The one an ex-army 
 surgeon and the other a confirmed old bachelor who 
 has spent all his life in the East India service! I 
 grant that she has a winning way, but that's not due to 
 her bringing up. It isn't natural for a girl to grow up 
 of her own notion. She's read what she liked and 
 formed her own ideas. She goes to both church and 
 chapel, and I don't believe she cares for either. 
 Though she's grown a young woman, she'd still rather 
 go shrimp-fishing with old Peter Sayle, or boating 
 with Cecil, or sit the way she used to with Thomas 
 Batt, in the engine house, and listen to his Welsh 
 tales, than study to fill her proper station in life. I 
 tell you, it isn't natural. And you can't say she's 
 
 10 
 
CARISSA GRAHAM 
 
 like other girls. She's too impulsive and undisci- 
 plined, and I'm afraid that harm will come of it." 
 
 Mrs. Chamberlayne was one of those women who 
 will permit themselves to say, of those whom they 
 love, what they would strongly resent in others; and 
 as she spoke, the logic of her argument appealed even 
 to herself, and there was real apprehension in her tone 
 as she concluded. 
 
 "She's come to an age when other things are 
 expected. She's had several good chances, if she'd 
 only offered the slightest encouragement. Arthur 
 Gordon should be spoken to, and I'm going to do it." 
 
 A bit of common, purple with heather; two fields 
 enclosed by broad stone hedges covered with grass and 
 trailing vines; a stretch of open wood, the prized rem- 
 nant of a great forest; these and a well-kept park sepa- 
 rated the Chamberlayne residence from the old stone 
 house where Carissa Graham lived with her uncle. 
 
 It is true that she enjoyed unusual liberty, but the 
 large, roomy house had proved a safe shelter. She 
 loved the place, for it was associated with many happy 
 memories. She loved it, too, because it was the birth- 
 place of many daring, half-formed dreams of the 
 future, and she had no knowledge that her free life 
 within its sheltering walls seemed strange to any of 
 the good housewives of the neighborhood, who were 
 naturally interested in her welfare. 
 
 Her "masculine guardians," as Mrs. Chamberlayne 
 called them, were three. Her uncle she respected and 
 loved in spite of his abstraction and habitual air of 
 cool reserve. Mr. Busby had at first frightened her by 
 his roughness and puzzled her by his outspoken cyni- 
 
 11 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 cism, but she learned to recognize and prize the wise 
 regard and true interest for her that struggled to 
 expression through his choleric temperament and 
 brusque manners. Dr. Brooks was the only one of the 
 three who had ever really entered into her confidence. 
 When she was a little girl he had teased her, and 
 advised her, and later had expressed his admiration 
 for her straightforward, truth-loving ways and her 
 generous spirit of sympathy and helpfulness. 
 
 "So you think my poor miners are worthy of your 
 tears, do you, Carissa? It is a sad story of their desti- 
 tution and misery. What they will do this winter, 
 with everything shut down, is more than I can tell." 
 
 "It's just wicked to throw them out of employ- 
 ment," she broke in fiercely, "and it's terrible to 
 think of those awful bread riots. John Odgers was 
 here this morning, and his face was so white and 
 strained. He wanted uncle to use his influence in be- 
 half of the men who have been arrested. He said it 
 was hunger, their own hunger and the hunger of their 
 wives and babes, that drove them to it. As I looked 
 at his white face and saw how drawn it looked, I 
 thought it terrible that men should be hungry and look 
 for bread and find none." 
 
 "Well, dear, there'll be bread and boiled turnips, at 
 least, for them after this," he said, with grim humor, 
 "but there'll still be great suffering. You'll find the 
 world a sad place, little one. That is," he added, 
 with a bitter smile, "if you don't forget how to see 
 and feel when you grow up and take your place in it." 
 
 "I shall not forget," she replied, with childlike 
 earnestness. "It would be wicked. Oh, why is it 
 that something cannot be done? I wish I were strong 
 
 12 
 
CARISSA GRAHAM 
 
 and powerful and could teach those who live in fine 
 houses and have so much, to think and plan for the 
 poor and helpless." 
 
 During that winter, so trying to the miners of Corn- 
 wall, Carissa often went with the doctor on his round 
 of visits to their destitute homes. She gave them of 
 her sympathy and of her smiles, which often struggled 
 through tears, and brought supplies that she had 
 coaxed from the housekeeper or from Mr. Gordon and 
 his friends. 
 
 Her visits came to be eagerly looked for, and many 
 a quaint expression from the "quirky" miners attested 
 their appreciation. 
 
 "She'd put a heart in a block o' stun and then make 
 it burst with gratitude because of 'er pity," said one 
 stalwart fellow, as he stood watching her breaking 
 bread for his children. 
 
 As they were returning from one of these trips and 
 she was feeling a vague sense of depression and dis- 
 satisfaction, Dr. Brooks suddenly broke the silence in 
 a musing tone. 
 
 "Do you know, Carissa, you are growing to remind 
 me of your father?" 
 
 She turned her face eagerly toward him and clasped 
 her small hands tightly under the robe. 
 
 "You never knew him," he went on, reverently, 
 "but he was one of the truest men that ever lived, and 
 my best friend. I was surgeon in the same regiment 
 where he was chaplain. He was naturally a great 
 student, but the welfare of the boys was at his heart. 
 We were on foreign service together when he died. 
 It can truly be said of him, Carissa, that he gave him- 
 self for others. There was a great deal of sickness, 
 
 13 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 the men were homesick and their hearts were tender; 
 I had little influence over him to lead him to spare 
 himself when duty called, and he wore himself out." 
 
 The doctor paused a moment, there was a huskiness 
 in his throat that he needed to clear away, and he 
 knew that Carissa's tears were silently falling. 
 
 "You mustn't think of him, though, as sad and 
 gloomy, or stern and unbending," he resumed, 
 brightly. "He had a rare combination of buoyancy 
 of spirit with deep and ready sympathy. That's why 
 you are like him, Carissa. I can see him now — the 
 life of the mess. He was as welcome among the gay 
 young officers bent on a lark as at the cot-side of a 
 rough private taking his last look round." 
 
 When work in the mines was resumed and comfort 
 took the place of poverty in the homes of the miners, 
 Carissa continued her visits. 
 
 One result of her intimate association with them was 
 inevitable. She became impressed with the singular 
 religious earnestness that permeated their lives and 
 gave color to their conversation. 
 
 Mr. Gordon would doubtless have been surprised 
 had he known under what instructors his niece was 
 shaping her beliefs. He had furnished her with suit- 
 able governesses, and had been abundantly satisfied 
 with the reports they gave him, but her real teachers 
 were of a very different sort. 
 
 "A Cornishman is a man and not an echo," as Dr. 
 Brooks expressed it, and Carissa possessed the tem- 
 perament that is more deeply influenced by convic- 
 tions than opinions. 
 
 Underneath all their crude and conflicting theories 
 and incomplete, contradictory systems of belief there 
 
 14 
 
CARISSA GRAHAM 
 
 was a mighty, inherent earnestness that appealed to 
 her. These rough miners, often as uncouth and 
 rugged as the rocks among which they worked, cher- 
 ished beneath their soiled coats ideals far removed 
 from the commonplace, and knew how to express 
 them to her quick understanding. She saw in them a 
 keen appreciation of what was genuine, and a hatred 
 of what was false or for mere show. The majority 
 were of the Wesleyan faith, not because it gave them a 
 better intellectual grasp upon the problems of life and 
 destiny, but because it made demands upon them, 
 because it meant sacrifice and the doing of something 
 for others. 
 
 It is not strange, then, that this girl, who loved the 
 woods, and the sea, and the stars; who had been taught 
 by them as well as by the primitive souls of this rude 
 mining community, should find her absorbing interest 
 carried outside the round of conventional existence, 
 where it might be supposed to lie. 
 
 Mr. Gordon was entirely disqualified to recognize 
 this fact or to appreciate it. He was conservative in 
 his ideas, and had conceived certain well-ordered 
 plans for the future of his niece. He was proud of his 
 firmness, and easily influenced only along the line of 
 his prejudices. But he was naturally indulgent where 
 these were not concerned, and by no means inquisitive. 
 He saw that Carissa was developing the graces of a 
 rare womanhood, accomplished, generous-hearted, 
 high-spirited, and with the promise of great beauty. 
 This satisfied him, and he never doubted that when the 
 time should come she would be thoroughly qualified 
 to fill the place which his wealth and influence would 
 be able to provide for her. 
 
 15 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "It's time she was seeing the world a little," he 
 said to Mr. Busby. "Mrs. Chamberlayne has per- 
 suaded me that I ought to take her to London, and, 
 when we return, open the old house to the young 
 people of the county." 
 
 "Humph!" ejaculated Busby, gruffly. "So the old 
 cat thinks our little song bird should be caged, does 
 she, and put on exhibition? Well, I don't. Let her 
 alone. She's happy as she is." 
 
 "But I think Mrs. Chamberlayne is right," said 
 Gordon, his features assuming an expression of firm- 
 ness. "There's been no harm done by the free life she 
 has led, but " 
 
 "Harm! I should say not!" his visitor interrupted, 
 with a display of temper which was by no means 
 unusual. "By Gad, sir, if you let her alone she has 
 in her the making of the finest woman in England. I 
 don't know much about women, but, according to my 
 notion, you don't improve them any by clipping their 
 wings and teaching them to hop instead of fly." 
 
 Mr. Gordon smiled indulgently at his old friend's 
 heat, but persisted with his point. 
 
 "I was going to say that there has been no harm 
 done yet. I know she's a fine girl, and I am proud of 
 her, but she ought to have the opportunity of mingling 
 more with the people of her own kind. She sees no 
 one now but young Paget from the rectory. He's a 
 fine fellow and comes from a fine family — the Pagets 
 of Netley. There are a few others, like the Tre- 
 maynes and the Penhearnes, but it isn't right; she 
 should have more society, and I've made up my mind 
 to see that she has it." 
 
 He spoke with an air of settled conviction, and pro- 
 
 16 
 
C A R I S S A GRAHAM 
 
 ceeded to make disclosure of some of his projects for 
 the future. Busby interjected a few uncomplimentary 
 objections and vigorous words of remonstrance, but it 
 was clearly for the sake of contradiction and not with 
 the hope of changing his friend's intentions. At least 
 Gordon chose to so receive them. 
 
 Finally Busby rose and reached for his stick. 
 
 "Well, you'll have your own way, I suppose," he 
 exclaimed, with gruff emphasis, "but thank God, I 
 believe she's beyond your spoiling, no matter how 
 hard you try." With this parting shot he left the 
 house and started across the fields. 
 
 The air was fragrant with the rich perfume of the 
 flowers, and thousands of bees were buzzing about him 
 in their tireless quest. 
 
 Suddenly he paused, and a broad smile chased the 
 frown from his face. A picture of Carissa had come 
 before him in all her sweet courage and pride of spirit. 
 
 "By Gad, sir, you may do what you please," he 
 said, striking his stick upon the ground. "There's 
 honey in the heart of that clover blossom, and the bees 
 will have to buzz a long time before that store of 
 sweets is rifled." 
 
 He chuckled audibly as he resumed his walk, and 
 struck persistently with his cane at every bee that 
 crossed the path which led to his house. 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 WHITMONDAY AT GWENNAP PIT 
 
 The year 185 1 was drawing toward Whitmonday, 
 and in the homes of the stalwart miners and hardy 
 sailors of Cornwall, as well as in the public houses, the 
 talk naturally turned to the great gathering to be held 
 on that day at Gwennap Pit. 
 
 Preparations were forward in all the adjoining towns 
 and villages, which would soon empty themselves and 
 begin pouring along all the roads converging to this 
 historic meeting place. 
 
 There was much of mundane interest in the observ- 
 ance of this annual religious festival, although the 
 religious sentiment predominated. A great London 
 preacher — the most prominent in the Wesleyan con- 
 nection — had been secured for the occasion, and the 
 majority of the people stood ready to listen, enjoy, 
 and criticize. 
 
 It would prove delightful employment for a large 
 class of these independent, opinionated Cornishmen, 
 whose theological training smelled of the tallow dip, 
 and was as deep and intricate as the levels in which 
 they worked, to pass the sermon and the preacher 
 through the crucible of their own individual judgment 
 before final acceptance or rejection. 
 
 All the old men of Gwennap Parish, of Redruth, St. 
 Day, and Newlyn would hasten their trembling limbs 
 to reach the Pit in time to gather at the front. It 
 would be a sore disappointment to any one of these 
 "ancient singers" if he should fail to be on hand and 
 
 18 
 
WHIT MONDAY AT GWENXAP PIT 
 
 in his place, down by the two granite posts that served 
 as a pulpit, in time to raise the open tune. 
 
 'Toor ould Bailey won't be there," remarked Wil- 
 liam Trethune, as he slowly looked around the cheery 
 kitchen, where a few friends had gathered for an even- 
 ing's gossip. " 'Es dafter, jMary, saves un's a gather- 
 ing in 'es chuck. 'E's never missed before 'nd 'e's cut 
 up a bit weth the sore disappointment." 
 
 As he concluded he turned his eyes inquiringly to 
 where Caleb Broom had taken his seat in moody 
 silence, but no reply was forthcoming save the dis- 
 couraging one of a deepening frown. 
 
 "William, thaat's not all the trouble weth un," 
 explained James Trewin, after a moment of oppressive 
 silence. " 'Es heart is broke — 'nd un's took to 'es 
 bed. 'Es dafter is an ongrateful huzzy." 
 
 "No, no!" exclaimed Caleb Broom, suddenly 
 aroused, and a flush coming over his face; "her's not 
 to blame, when she comed home from Redruth 'nd told 
 me — ," His voice broke, but he made an effort to con- 
 trol himself. It was a full minute before he succeeded. 
 
 The faces around him expressed nothing but interest 
 and sympathy. James Trewin, who had gone to 
 Caleb's home and had insisted on bringing him away, 
 now put his hand protectingly on his shoulder. He 
 made a motion to shake it off, but finally let it remain. 
 
 "I went ower to Redruth." he finally resumed, 
 desperately but with an accent of doggedness, " 'nd I 
 heard un. I tell ye, 'e 'as a devil! Thomas Batt 
 himself 's been deluded by 'es slippery tongue and 
 smock, smooth, smilin' face. Whaat could a foolish 
 gal do when she heard un?" 
 
 William Trethune had heard of a certain new preacher 
 
 19 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 and of his strange, outlandish doctrines, but he had 
 not known of the defection of Thomas Batt, nor of the 
 fact that his friend Bailey's daughter had been won 
 over, during her recent visit to Redruth. 
 
 "D'ye say that Thomas — Thomas Batt is gone 
 ower?" he demanded. 
 
 Young Broom had dropped his face in his hands and 
 made no sign. 
 
 " 'Un's a Welshman, William," explained Trewin, 
 apologetically, " 'nd as Caleb sayed, Mary's a foolish 
 gal, but her' 11 come to herself 'nd be righted." 
 
 He pressed his hand reassuringly upon the shoulder 
 that trembled beneath it. 
 
 "I heard un's comin' to the Pit to-morrow," said a 
 fourth member of the group, glancing at the young 
 man, " 'nd maybe ye'U see un and hear un, too." 
 
 Again Caleb was aroused. He looked up quickly, 
 and there was a menacing light in his eyes, while his 
 whole face quivered. 
 
 "Ef 'e comes to the Pit, there'll be trouble," he 
 cried fiercely, striking his fist on the table. 
 
 "Caleb," remonstrated Trethune, "ye wull remember 
 the day and the place." 
 
 "Wait, Caleb," said Trewin, soothingly. He 
 watched the young man by his side while the light 
 slowly faded away from his eyes, giving place again to 
 the look of sullen anger. Then he rose and faced the 
 other two. 
 
 "The boy is right," he said, deliberately. "Ef un 
 comes to the Pit, there widl be trouble. The men o' 
 Newlyn warned un clear o' their houses. Shall us, 
 men o' Gwennap, sit quiet? I tell 'e, we want no such 
 preachin' 'nd twistin' o' the Word here." 
 
 20 
 
WHITMONDAY AT GWENNAP PIT 
 
 "James Trewin, ye wouldn't encourage violence, 
 would ye?" inquired Trethune, with astonishment. 
 
 "I'm not speakin o' violence," was the deliberate 
 reply, "but ye' 11 surely not deny thaat a judicious 
 beatin' makes a fine corrective where persuasion fails. 
 Mark the word! we want none o' 'es tractin', and 
 smooth talkin' and preachin' in this parish. Come, 
 Caleb, us'll be goin'." 
 
 Whitmonday morning dawned bright and clear. 
 The services would not begin till three o'clock, but all 
 through the night the sound of voices and of passing 
 feet might have been heard on the roads from St. Day 
 and Newlyn. By midday fully twenty thousand 
 people had been gathered within the enclosure of the 
 fences. 
 
 The grass-grown steps or seats, running entirely 
 round the excavation or depression, which gives the 
 Pit its name, were already crowded. The group of 
 patriarchal figures, made up of the "ancient singers," 
 was assembled in a conspicuous position well to the 
 fore. There was an expression of ecstatic, eager antic- 
 ipation upon their faces which they vainly tried to 
 becloud with an assumption of indifference. 
 
 The preacher of the day had not yet arrived; he 
 would come presently, in company with the preacher 
 in charge of the Wesleyan Society at Carharrack. 
 A delicious sense of solemn novelty pervaded the 
 assembly. The hum of voices was subdued. New- 
 comers entering the enclosure were impressed with a 
 feeling of reverence, as though they were breathing 
 the air of some holy place. 
 
 Among the late arrivals were some fashionable 
 people from the towns, and representatives of the lead- 
 
 21 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 ing county families, who found in this gathering a 
 unique and strangely interesting spectacle. These did 
 not enter the Pit proper, but grouped themselves on 
 the outskirts, sufficiently near, however, so that all 
 could be seen and heard. 
 
 Squire Gordon and his niece, who had recently 
 returned from their trip to London; Mr. Busby, but- 
 toned up closely in a great coat and holding his stick 
 firmly in his hand; Dr. Brooks, and others, including 
 Mrs. Chamberlayne, from the parish of St. Day, were 
 grouped together just beyond the low stone wall, to 
 the right of the pulpit and opposite the old disused 
 chapel. 
 
 Suddenly absolute silence took the place of the low 
 
 murmuring of thousands of subdued voices. The 
 
 ministers were in their places and the service had 
 
 begun. 
 
 "Oh for a thousand tongues to sing 
 
 My dear Redeemer's praise." 
 
 The leader announced these lines in a rich musical 
 voice. This was the moment that the old men were 
 waiting for. How eagerly they caught the words and 
 lifted up the tune, only to find it borne away from 
 them by the united voices of the multitude. 
 
 An instant of silence followed, during which Carissa 
 caught a few clear, sweet notes of a skylark caroling 
 
 high in air. 
 
 ' 'The glories of my God and King, 
 The triumphs of His grace." 
 
 Again the spoken words followed by the eager, tri- 
 umphant singing of the people. 
 
 As Carissa listened, a strange sense of standing on 
 holy ground stole over her. There was worship in the 
 
 22 
 
WHITMONDAY AT GWENNAP PIT 
 
 hearts of the singers, and she felt her spirit lifted up 
 in unison with theirs. 
 
 Each pause was thrilling, and the reverently spoken 
 words, followed by the equally reverent chant of the 
 people, seemed to emphasize the thought until it pene- 
 trated deep into her consciousness. 
 
 "Jesus! The name that charms our fears, 
 That bids our sorrows cease." 
 
 It was not like singing, it w^as as the voice of many 
 waters. There was in her ears the rhythmic beating 
 of the waves, when the tide was rising against the 
 rocks at Portreath. 
 
 The prayer that followed was simple, direct and 
 fervent. It seemed to be the instinctive, untaught 
 utterance, by a single voice, of all the pent-up aspira- 
 tions and longings of a people conscious of the imme- 
 diate presence of God. 
 
 As the prayer ended and the second hymn was 
 announced, she became aware of a slight disturbance 
 behind her. 
 
 Turning, she saw a young man struggling to make 
 his way through the throng. An older man, whom she 
 recognized as one of the miners whose house she had 
 often visited, was seeking to restrain him. 
 
 The people about the two were staring in dumb 
 wonderment; for disturbances at Gwennap Pit were 
 exceedingly rare. 
 
 "Let go! I want near un," the young man finally 
 said, roughly. 
 
 "Wait, Caleb, 'e won't get away; wait till arter the 
 sermon." 
 
 A few bystanders now took a hand, and the young 
 
 23 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 man sullenly relinquished his effort. Carissa turned 
 again to the service, but the charm was broken. 
 
 Mr. Busby spoke to her under his breath. "They've 
 had preaching here nigh a hundred years, yet these 
 same pious hymners will sack the towns and villages 
 round about the next time the mines shut down." 
 
 She shook her head doubtfully at his words, and yet 
 the thought would come — of what use was it all? She 
 remembered that the Gospel had been preached for 
 eighteen centuries, that John Wesley, who had been 
 the first preacher at Gwennap Pit, had spoken of Corn- 
 wall as *'the Eden of Methodism," and yet she remem- 
 bered the terrible scenes during the bread riots, 
 when men had been more like wild beasts than men. 
 True, they were driven to it! But if religion was to 
 have any transforming power, how was it that selfish- 
 ness and greed and violence did still persist, lying in 
 wait for an opportunity to burst forth in the lives and 
 hearts of men? 
 
 She turned impatiently from these disturbing 
 thoughts and sought to fasten her attention upon the 
 sermon. 
 
 Mrs. Chamberlayne plucked her sleeve. "Mr. Paget 
 has seen us," she whispered. "He's looking this way. 
 He's only waiting your recognition to join us." 
 
 "Wait till after the sermon," she answered, indiffer- 
 ently. The words recalled the look of sullen rage on 
 the face of the young miner, and she fell to speculat- 
 ing on his purpose. She was quite unconscious of the 
 fact that she was looking about her till the sermon 
 came to an end and the closing hymn was being 
 announced. 
 
 As Carissa turned back toward the great singing 
 
 24 
 
WHITMONDAY AT GWEiNNAP PIT 
 
 crowd, her glance was suddenly arrested. Standing a 
 few paces from her was a stranger, whose whole aspect 
 riveted her attention. He was taller than the people 
 about him, and stood with his arms folded, somewhat 
 conspicuously. There was a stern look upon his face 
 that seemed to challenge the proceedings he had been 
 witnessing. As she was looking, his arm was suddenly 
 seized and a gruff voice demanded: 
 
 "Be ye the Mormon preacher from Redruth?" 
 
 The stranger gave a quiet answer in the affirmative. 
 
 'Then ye'd better get away fr'm here 'fore harm's 
 done." 
 
 "How so?" He looked coolly into his challenger's 
 face. 
 
 "There be men here from Newlyn and men from Por- 
 treath, some from Gwennap, too, who've promised ye a 
 beatin'. I've warned ye, and ye'd better go quick." 
 
 The stranger glanced about him a little disdainfully, 
 and caught Carissa's gaze. A smile came upon his 
 lips as he looked straight into her startled eyes. 
 
 Suddenly she cried out and sprang forward; two or 
 three men were upon him, striking him with their fists 
 and with sticks. He seemed to make no resistance. 
 Carissa sought to push her way among them, but it was 
 useless. When they scattered and disappeared, she 
 saw him lying at her feet, white and senseless. 
 
 "Come away, Carissa; this is no place for you," she 
 heard her uncle saying, but she made no movement. 
 She was gazing at his face, so strong and commanding 
 even when stamped with the image of death. 
 
 Dr. Brooks was kneeling by the prostrate figure 
 making an examination with practiced hand. 
 
 The people were gathered around in an awe-struck 
 
 25 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 circle. The greater gathering in the Pit was breaking 
 up, unaware for the most part of the outrage enacted 
 so near by. 
 
 It seemed an age to Carissa till Dr. Brooks looked 
 up. 
 
 "He's pretty badly hurt, but he'll come round 
 soon." Carissa was immensely relieved at his words, 
 and drew back by her uncle's side. 
 
 Seeing Mr. Gordon, Dr. Brooks stepped up to him, 
 and said: "I'm going to take him to Clifford's. It'll 
 be handy there, and he'll need good care for a few 
 days. Can I take your carriage?" 
 
 "Certainly," Gordon responded. 
 
 When Dr. Brooks returned, reporting his patient's 
 recovery of consciousness, and the whole party was 
 proceeding homeward, he said to Carissa: "He tells 
 me that he is an American. He said that his name is 
 Eaton Brand." 
 
 She made no reply. She was still strangely excited 
 by the scene she had witnessed. The face of the 
 stranger, the confident smile that he had turned toward 
 her, the look she had read in his eyes even at the 
 instant he was struck down, haunted her. 
 
 Mrs. Chamberlayne and Mr. Busby were making 
 characteristic comments upon the service and the cir- 
 cumstances that had marked its conclusion, but at first 
 she scarcely heard them. 
 
 "What surprises me is that he didn't try to defend 
 himself," said Mrs. Chamberlayne. "He looked 
 capable of doing it, from what I saw of him." Then 
 turning to the doctor, she asked, inquisitively: "What 
 is a Mormon, I wonder, and what has he done to pro- 
 voke such an assault?" 
 
 26 
 
WHITMONDAY AT GWENNAP PIT 
 
 "A Mormon, my dear Mrs. Chamberlayne," Dr. 
 Brooks replied, in a tone of mockery, "is a very dan- 
 gerous individual. The specimen under my care 
 appears to be an especially rabid member of the 
 species. It appears that he has made a few converts 
 to his doctrines and has suffered for his temerity. We 
 Christians do such things sometimes." 
 
 "Disordered religious fanatics of that kind are all 
 alike," growled Busby. "By Gad, I'd like to see 
 them finish each other up. The only trouble is there'd 
 always be plenty of new ones to take their place." 
 
 Carissa knew the warm heart that beat under her old 
 friend's rough exterior, but his words aroused her 
 indignation. 
 
 "I think it is terrible," she exclaimed, with earnest- 
 ness. "They might have killed him." Then her 
 voice softened as she turned to Dr. Brooks— "Is there 
 any danger, do you think?" 
 
 "No," he responded, "he's in good hands. He'll 
 pull round in a few days, but," he added, in a mis- 
 chievous whisper, "don't let your imagination run away 
 with you. Why, you are trembling now! Remember, 
 he's nothing but a poor preacher of an outlandish sect, 
 even if he is a deuced handsome one." 
 
 27 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. BRAND'S LODGINGS ARE CHANGED 
 
 The road from Squire Gordon's house to the town of 
 St. Day led past Clifford Inn, a public house well 
 patronized in former days by the mine workers of the 
 district. Of late years it had lost much custom ow^ng 
 to the fact that the adjacent workings had been aban- 
 doned, and what was once a populous district was now 
 comparatively deserted. 
 
 The proprietorship of the place had descended from 
 father to son through several generations. The pres- 
 ent incumbent, old Peter Clifford, had been much con- 
 cerned at the failure of his revenues, and gladly 
 welcomed the opportunity of receiving into his house 
 an interesting stranger, about whom talk would be 
 made and through whom custom might come, espe- 
 cially when he was assured by Dr. Brooks that his 
 charges for housing and nursing would be fully met. 
 
 He was somewhat surprised, however, that the first 
 call of inquiry should be made by a young woman, 
 and he carried his immediately aroused suspicions to 
 his wife. 
 
 "I don't like the looks o' un. She's ould Bailey's 
 daughter. 1 told her she could not see un, and that it 
 was a shame for a comely girl to come to a public 
 house askin' for an outlander." 
 
 "Yer an ould fool," said his wife. "Where be 
 her?" 
 
 "She's waitin' by the door, and sayes she'll not move 
 from un till the doctor comes." 
 
 28 
 
BRAND'S LODGINGS CHANGED 
 
 Mother Clifford made her way, as briskly as was 
 compatible with her weight and years, to the outer 
 room and the open doorway where Mary Bailey was 
 standing, a picture of distress, and struggling with 
 emotions of mingled anxiety and embarrassment. 
 
 "What's yer trouble, Mary?" she asked, with good- 
 natured compassion. 
 
 At sight of the familiar, motherly face, or at sound 
 of the kindly-spoken words, Mary's struggles suddenly 
 ended in a burst of weeping. 
 
 "1 only heerd of it this morning," she sobbed, "and 
 I could not wait. Tell me if he will surely get 
 well." 
 
 "The danger is by, the doctor sayed so," the old 
 woman assured her. "But Mary, my dear, 'e beant 
 your sweetheart, be un?" 
 
 "No! No!" exclaimed Mary, her cheeks and neck 
 flushing scarlet, and then, as though realizing for the 
 first time how her action might be construed, she 
 put her hands to her face and hurried away. 
 
 The course of events that finally resulted in furnish- 
 ing a sensational subject for conversation in many a 
 home of that region, might have been different had not 
 Caleb Broom observed this hurried retreat and taken 
 note of the unmistakable signs of her agitation, and 
 had he not perversely applied them as fresh fuel to 
 the fires of his unreasoning hatred. 
 
 It was several days before IMary Bailey found cour- 
 age to go again and inquire concerning the welfare of 
 one who had awakened a strange glow of enthusiasm 
 in her heart, but through these days Caleb had kept 
 watch, brooding over his sense of loss and gloomily 
 pondering schemes of retrieval. 
 
 29 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Had not Mary told him that she had determined to 
 cast in her lot with this strange religion, and that she 
 would have nothing of him, unless he would agree to 
 leave everything behind him and accompany her across 
 the seas to a new land? To his mind there was some- 
 thing darkly suspicious at the back of this sudden 
 change in one who had been, until recently, perfectly 
 content with the prospect of marrying him and set- 
 tling down with the old folk. It was certainly this 
 man's influence that had infatuated her. Whenever he 
 thought of him he cursed his smooth tongue and his 
 smooth handsome face, and regretted that the blows 
 of the men of Newlyn, who had anticipated him in his 
 purpose at Gwennap, had not been heavier and more 
 effective. 
 
 On the occasion of Mary's second visit he was on the 
 watch and marked the timidity of her coming and the 
 happy buoyancy of her going. She had heard good 
 news; the object of her interest had sat up a little 
 while that morning, and was on the high road to per- 
 fect recovery. 
 
 The sight of her happiness was too much for Caleb; 
 her appearance, and his jealous interpretation of it, 
 drove him to determine on the immediate execution of 
 what he had long been pondering. It would not be 
 difficult to raise a crowd from among the loungers at 
 Portreath, or from the tavern frequenters of Gwennap. 
 This man should be driven out of the country, his 
 handsome face should be spoiled, and he should be 
 made to feel that this parish at least could be made 
 too hot a place to hold him. 
 
 As Mary came past he swung into the road to meet 
 her. 
 
 30 
 
BRAND'S LODGINGS CHANGED 
 
 "So ye wull not gi' un up!" he demanded of her 
 fiercely, though with a certain shame-faced sullen- 
 ness. 
 
 She stopped abruptly and looked at him scornfully. 
 The look went home, and he dropped his eyes before it. 
 
 "Mary," he pleaded, awkwardly, "what's come 
 ower ye?' ' 
 
 "Faugh, you've been drinkin'," she exclaimed, in 
 sudden disgust. "And ye askin* me to take up weth 
 you! Un's well ended, so un es, 'nd as for him ye 
 don't know what yer talkin' about." 
 
 She passed him swiftly, leaving him furious with 
 anger. His first impulse was to shake his fist after the 
 retreating figure, but, instead of that, he turned a 
 scowling glance full of hatred toward the inn. 
 
 Dr. Brooks was just coming from his daily call upon 
 his patient, and witnessed enough of the interview to 
 be able to make a shrewd guess as to the meaning of 
 the menacing look he intercepted. 
 
 "Where have I seen that fellow?" he thought, as he 
 turned his horse toward Squire Gordon's. 
 
 Presently he remembered the struggling figure at 
 Gwennap Pit before the sermon. 
 
 "That fellow certainly means mischief," he said to 
 himself, looking back to where Caleb was still stand- 
 ing, "I wonder what can be back of it all besides 
 religious intolerance?" 
 
 He thought of talking the matter over with Mr. 
 Gordon, but, as he found on reaching the house that 
 he was absent, he contented himself with giving his 
 customary report to Carissa. 
 
 He noticed with a little surprise how eagerly she 
 received it, and how her face lighted up at his news, 
 
 31 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 but he immediately remembered those characteristics 
 that had so often won his unqualified approval in the 
 past and he smiled as he said to himself: 
 
 "It's her way. It would be just the same if it were 
 old Peter Clifford himself, or even his dog Rover." 
 
 During these days, however, there had been in 
 Carissa's thoughts an element entirely new in her 
 experience. 
 
 The scene of violence that she had witnessed and its 
 accompanying circumstances had made a deep impres- 
 sion upon her mind. It had seemed to her a serious 
 affair, and all her sympathies had been strangely 
 aroused in behalf of the victim. 
 
 The slighting comments passed in her hearing 
 seemed heartless and cruel. There was nothing in 
 her nature that could sympathize with religious 
 intolerance or hatred. 
 
 Her antecedents and the character of her early train- 
 ing determined her interpretation of the situation. In 
 Carissa's room were two pictures: one of her mother, 
 who died when she was a child, but whose memory 
 she cherished with passionate fondness; it was faded 
 and dim, but the face looked out at her wistfully, 
 sweetly and lovingly. The other picture was of her 
 father, whom she had never seen, but whom she had 
 been taught to look upon as true, unselfish, and noble 
 in every deed and impulse. Below these pictures was 
 suspended a small case of books, containing a double 
 row of volumes, forbidding in bulk and appearance, 
 which she had nevertheless read over and over, and 
 which she prized because they had belonged to her 
 father. 
 
 From these books, historical, theological, and many 
 
 32 
 
BRAND'S LODGINGS CHANGED 
 
 of them dealing with the religious controversies of the 
 time, she had formed her conceptions of the world of 
 Faith, and her own standard of truth and duty. 
 
 They had taught her to idealize the great religious 
 leaders of the past, and had awakened a restless hunger 
 in her heart to be identified in some way with some 
 great and noble work, that should be altogether differ- 
 ent from the formal, passionless routine of the con- 
 ventional life about her. 
 
 It was this craving, only dimly understood by her- 
 self, that inclined her to think often and with real 
 sympathy of the young stranger who had been assaulted 
 in her presence. 
 
 It was not difficult to persuade herself that this man 
 possessed noble characteristics. It was true that he 
 seemed to be intensely hated, but it also appeared 
 that antagonism had been aroused on account of relig- 
 ious convictions. She wondered what those convic- 
 tions could be. She knew that men in every age had 
 met martyrdom for the truth. She had also been 
 impressed with the idea that those who suffered had 
 usually championed the higher, purer, nobler cause. 
 She, somehow, believed it to be so in this case, for she 
 remembered his face, calm, even cool and scornful, 
 stamped with the sort of bravery that inspired Arnold 
 of Brescia, Savonarola, Stephen, and Paul. 
 
 She was not satisfied with what she had heard of 
 him. She felt that there was much that was perhaps 
 of absorbing interest behind the fragmentary informa- 
 tion that had come to her knowledge, and her curiosity 
 was strongly excited. 
 
 She was but a girl, her mind unformed in many ways, 
 and herself "undisciplined," as Mrs. Chamberlayne 
 
 33 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 had expressed it; but she had the true woman's nature 
 that sympathizes with unmerited misfortune, and that 
 quickly assumes partisanship against injustice. 
 
 A tremor of indignation flashed the blood into her 
 cheeks when Busby entered the room and bluntly said 
 to Mr. Gordon: "Dr. Brooks had better have a care 
 of that precious patient of his, and get him away from 
 here, or he'll have his blood on his hands." 
 
 "Why? What's up?" asked Gordon. 
 
 "The whole unwashed rabble from Portreath is up, 
 by Gad; some fellow, with a grudge to serve, has 
 stirred 'em up. Thomas Batt was over this morning, 
 as sick looking as a chicken with the pip, and begged 
 me to interfere. The rascals vow that this young 
 preacher must be shipped out of the country or they'll 
 ride him out on a rail." 
 
 There was the lurking suspicion in his manner of a 
 desire to chuckle, as he made this announcement, but, 
 after a pause and a glance at Carissa, he added more 
 gravely, "Shouldn't wonder if the mob would be over 
 to-night. Is he able to be moved?" 
 
 "Brooks says that he is better, quite out of all dan- 
 ger, but that he ought to be kept quiet several days," 
 answered Gordon. 
 
 "Got a pretty heavy dose of it, eh?" 
 
 "It was one of the most brutal things I ever wit- 
 nessed," responded Gordon, warmly. "It looked for 
 a time like a serious concussion. The fellows that did 
 it should have been arrested." 
 
 "I don't suppose he has any friends that can take 
 him away," said Busby. "Batt says there're only a few 
 of his faith — that's what he called it — in this region, 
 and they are poor and without influence." 
 
 34 
 
BRAND'S LODGxNGS CHANGED 
 
 "Can't you bring him here from the inn, uncle?" 
 Carissa interposed, with a tremor in her voice. "The 
 mob would not dare attack him, if he were your guest." 
 
 "I wouldn't do it," said Busby quickly, turning to 
 the squire. "I don't know much about them, but those 
 Mormons have a bad name, I'm told; don't take him 
 into your house, I pray." 
 
 "Mr. Busby, that is cruel. I do not believe what 
 they say," replied Carissa, with some warmth. "He 
 is not a bad man no matter what his belief. Did you 
 not see him when he stood there and let them strike? 
 And it was not because he was afraid. I saw his 
 face — " She turned quickly to her uncle, and said in 
 a pleading tone, "It would be terrible if they should 
 attack him now, he is so helpless and alone." 
 
 Mr. Gordon hesitated; finally, however, he turned to 
 Busby, and said, "I really don't see why I shouldn't. 
 Brooks says that he seems quite a gentlemanly chap, 
 and it will only be for a few days. But there's alto- 
 gether too much lawlessness in this neighborhood," he 
 continued, squaring himself in his chair. "When a 
 gentleman has to take a tramp-preacher into his own 
 house to protect him from violence, it's time the mag- 
 istrates did something." 
 
 Mr. Busby, for a wonder, made no reply. He was 
 looking at Carissa as though he were seeing her for 
 the first time, and was curiously studying her flushed 
 face as though he expected to find the answer to some 
 perplexing question that had suddenly arisen in his 
 mind. 
 
 That evening about dusk, old Peter Clifford stood in 
 the doorway of his inn and ruefully watched the car- 
 riage that was slowly conveying his interesting guest 
 
 35 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 to new quarters. He had remonstrated and had 
 curiously inquired the reason for this sudden move, 
 but his only satisfaction was in watching the receding 
 carriage, and in counting over again the handful of 
 silver pieces that Squire Gordon had put into his hand. 
 
 36 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THOMAS BATT'S TESTIMONY 
 
 Eaton Brand had been considerably surprised at the 
 call he received, and, still more, at the courteous 
 invitation to spend the few days necessary for his com- 
 plete recovery at Mr. Gordon's house. 
 
 "It really is not necessary!" he said. Though at 
 the same time expressing his appreciation of their 
 kindness. 
 
 "If some one had not thought it necessary, we 
 shouldn't have been here," interjected Mr. Busby, 
 with impatience. 
 
 Brand was well used to accommodating himself to 
 any circumstances, and, after an instant of further hesi- 
 tation, he cordially accepted the invitation. 
 
 Carissa caught merely a glimpse of them as they 
 entered the hall and proceeded to the room that had 
 been assigned to Brand, but that was sufficient to 
 reawaken all her feelings of sympathy. 
 
 Brand was very pale and appeared to be much 
 exhausted, although he was making a strong effort to 
 walk with steady steps; his lips were set firmly 
 together, and his features expressed quiet dignity in 
 spite of his evident suffering. Across the right temple 
 was a discolored line extending from the dark hair to 
 the eyebrow. As he saw Carissa in passing, standing 
 at one side of the wide hall where the lamp-light fell 
 upon her upturned face and searching eyes, he evi- 
 dently recalled the fact that he had seen her before, 
 
 37 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 for he looked again quickly, and with a flash and a 
 smile as of recognition. 
 
 Carissa did not wait for her uncle and Mr. Busby to 
 descend. She had done all that she could do to insure 
 the comfort and quiet of their guest, and now, in spite 
 of her feeling of sympathetic anxiety, there was a 
 strange glow of happiness in her heart. She did not 
 care to analyze it, but she felt that she needed space 
 for it to expand. 
 
 The cool of the garden, after a warm day and after 
 the exciting thoughts called forth by so much that was 
 unusual in her life, seemed irresistibly attractive. She 
 threw on a light wrap, and stepped out into the star- 
 light. 
 
 There was a touch of pride in the remembered role 
 she had played. She dimly felt that Providence had 
 given her the opportunity of enlisting herself on the 
 side of persecuted right against aggressive wrong and 
 injustice. She desired to play this part out to the end; 
 she felt that it suited her, at least it had brought a 
 new, a delightful sense of satisfaction to her mind. 
 
 Suddenly she remembered the words of Mr. Busby. 
 The cowardly ruf^ans, who would not hesitate to make 
 an attack upon a sick and defenceless man, might 
 come to the inn that night. It was improbable that 
 they had heard of his removal. A daring impulse 
 came to her. Clifford's inn was not far, it was only 
 about three-quarters of a mile from the park gates. 
 If they should come, she would like to witness their 
 disappointment; at least, the trip could do no harm, 
 and she was in the mood for something that promised 
 adventure. 
 
 Without further thought, she lightly crossed the 
 
 38 
 
THOMAS BATT'S TESTIMONY 
 
 park, and hurried along the ash-lined lane to the high- 
 road. 
 
 Down the road she sped, fearless of discovery or 
 interruption, until she knew that she must have 
 covered at least one-half the distance. 
 
 At the point where an old road branched off lead- 
 ing to the gravel pits, she paused a moment, to 
 refasten a loosened tie and to recover her breath. 
 
 There was a slight salt mist in the air borne from the 
 sea. The silence of the fields, the drift of the wind, 
 the far reaching, trembling light of the stars were all 
 pregnant with the mystery of the night, in which her 
 soul delighted. 
 
 Suddenly she stood upright, alert and listening, with 
 a quick touch of apprehension. She could hear foot- 
 steps approaching on the road before her, as of a man 
 walking rapidly. The next instant she could distin- 
 guish his form. 
 
 "Hello, what's that," he exclaimed in a startled 
 tone, as he stopped abruptly at sight of her. 
 
 "Who are you?" she demanded, in a clear, firm 
 voice. 
 
 "Why, it's a woman!" she heard him say in a low 
 tone of relief, as he moved a step or two in her direc- 
 tion. "My name is Thomas Batt," he added in reply 
 to her challenge, "and if you live anywhere in these 
 parts you know you've nothing to fear." 
 
 Her apprehension was gone immediately, and she 
 laughed softly to herself as he approached. 
 
 "I am Miss Graham, Mr. Batt," she finally 
 announced. "Do you wonder what I am doing on the 
 road at such an hour?'* 
 
 "Miss Carissa!" he exclaimed in utter astonishment. 
 
 39 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "You are the maddest girl in St. Day! What are you 
 doing here, frightening an old man out of his wits with 
 the idea that he was seeing a ghost?" 
 
 "I was going down to the inn," she replied, sud- 
 denly sobered at the thought of her errand. 
 
 "Going to the inn!" he repeated. "I've just come 
 from there, and was going to your uncle's to thank 
 him for giving shelter to Mr. Brand." 
 
 "You know him and are his friend?" she exclaimed, 
 remembering that it was he who had warned Mr. 
 Busby and finding the current of her thoughts sud- 
 denly changed. 
 
 "I was baptized by him four weeks ago come Sun- 
 day," he replied, looking at her with a new interest. 
 "But what was your errand at the inn? I will go back 
 with you." 
 
 "Are they coming, the cowards that you told Mr. 
 Busby about?" she asked, scarcely knowing how to 
 explain her intentions. 
 
 "No, and you may well call them cowards!" he 
 answered. "They've got wind of his going, besides 
 I've lodged complaint against them to restrain them 
 to keep the peace." 
 
 "I'll go back to the house with you," said Carissa 
 quietly, turning about and beginning to retrace her 
 steps by his side. "But tell me," she urged after a 
 moment of thought, "why do they hate him so?" 
 
 "Why is any man that tells the truth and shames the 
 devil, hated in this world?" answered the sturdy 
 Welshman bitterly. 
 
 "Shall I tell you how I came to believe and to be 
 baptized?" he asked after a little reflection. "Or 
 wouldn't the story interest you?" 
 
 40 
 
THOMAS BATTS TESTIMONY 
 
 "Indeed it would interest me," she answered, slip- 
 ping her hand into the folds of his rough coat-sleeve, 
 to assure him of her attention. 
 
 "I've always been a searcher after truth, you know 
 that, Miss Carissa," he began. "I have told you in 
 the past some of the thoughts that have come to me, 
 and I knew by the light that used to shine upon your 
 eager little face from the old furnace door, that you 
 understood me, small though you were." 
 
 He paused and looked down at her as though to note 
 how she had grown since then. If she could have 
 seen his face distinctly, she might have noticed the 
 mist that had gathered in his eyes at the recollection. 
 
 "But I didn't understand myself, after all," he 
 resumed with a sigh. "You know I joined the Wes- 
 leyans years ago; then when Billy Bray came along 
 and preached with such a beautiful simplicity and 
 show of clear mother-wit on his rough Cornish tongue, 
 I joined the Bryanites. But I kept a-thinking and a- 
 thinking — a man must think, I suppose, or the 
 Almighty would ha' made him without the appa- 
 ratus — and there was always something lacking, some- 
 thing that just eluded the grip of my understanding." 
 
 He paused again and his mind appeared to be 
 wandering amid the old intricate questions and 
 speculations. 
 
 "But that is all changed now," he said, with an air 
 of assurance. "When I met Mr. Brand, at Redruth, 
 he brought letters from my brothers and sisters from 
 the old home in Wales. They had all been re-baptized 
 and were going to join the gathering of the Saints in 
 the New World. They wrote for me to go and hear 
 him preach. I went; the old doubts and questionings 
 
 41 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 are gone; they disappeared like the mist and the fog 
 before the coming of the sun. Miss Carissa, a new 
 light has dawned on my understanding; formerly I 
 was as a blind man following blind leaders, but the 
 rest of my days, please God, shall be spent in making 
 known the truth." 
 
 Carissa was thrilled by her old friend's earnestness. 
 True, she did not understand the nature of the change 
 he tried to describe, but she believed in his sincerity 
 as she believed in her own. 
 
 Then, too, she gladly received his testimony, for it 
 fitted perfectly into her previously formed impressions 
 and confirmed them. 
 
 "I am glad you have told me these things," she said 
 simply, as they turned into the gate of her uncle's place. 
 
 "You're a grown woman, now," he said a little wist- 
 fully. "The old days, when I used to talk so freely, 
 and you used to listen so eagerly, are gone never to 
 return. Perhaps though, you'll let me put it all 
 before you some day. I mean the new light that's 
 come to me; or better yet," his face brightened at the 
 thought, "perhaps you'll let /^z-'/^ return your kindness 
 in giving him a shelter when he needed it, by telling 
 you himself of the gospel he preaches. ' 
 
 They were approaching the door, and he bent for- 
 ward a little that he might better read the expression 
 of her face. She removed her hand from his arm and 
 looked away from him, and he drew a sigh of disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 "He will not be here long, though," he concluded; 
 "while I shall stay and work among my old mates — 
 even if they do say I'm a traitor and a turncoat, and 
 shut the doors of their houses upon me." 
 
 42 
 
THOMAS BATT'S TESTIMONY 
 
 There was a light burning in the squire's study, and 
 Carissa knew that Mr. Busby had gone. Tapping 
 lightly upon the door and opening it to introduce her 
 old friend, she said good-night, and sought her own 
 room, glad to be alone with the new thoughts and 
 impressions that had come to her. 
 
 43 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MR. BRAND DECLARES HIS MISSION 
 
 Mrs. Chamberlayne was, very properly, shocked 
 when she heard that Squire Gordon had received this 
 strange preacher, from no one knew where, as a guest 
 in his house. 
 
 "It's just like his folly," she declared emphatically. 
 "He's no more fit to bring up a girl properly and to 
 furnish her with associates than, — " she paused for a 
 suitable comparison before she concluded trium- 
 phantly, "than Mr. Busby himself. Just to think of 
 it! She knows no more of the world or of the proper 
 distinctions in society than a baby— and now Arthur 
 Gordon's gone and brought this handsome, clever- 
 speaking preacher into his house, where she can't help 
 but see him and listen to him every day for goodness 
 knows how long. It's perfectly scandalous, and you 
 may be downright sure no good will come of it." 
 
 In spite of this good lady's expression of dark mis- 
 giving, however, there did not seem to be any imme- 
 diate change, at least of very great moment, upon the 
 surface of the life at Squire Gordon's. 
 
 Gordon came and went much as usual. Busby did 
 not make his appearance for several days, but it was 
 understood that he was confined to his chair by a 
 severe attack of his old enemy, the gout. At first Dr. 
 Brooks came regularly every day, but in a short 
 time his visits were made less frequently. 
 
 As for Carissa, it maybe that Dr. Brooks sometimes 
 
 44 
 
MR. BRAXD DECLARES HIS MISSION 
 
 imagined she was becoming more serious and less 
 talkative, but Mr. Gordon observed no change in her 
 at all. True, the thought came to him once or twice, 
 as he saw the deep light in her eyes and the wonderful 
 play of emotion upon her expressive face, that she 
 was maturing rapidly, and would certainly develop as 
 great beauty some day as had characterized her mother; 
 but he did not connect this observation of his with any 
 awakened susceptibility on her part, to the presence 
 of their interesting guest. Such an idea would have 
 found great difficulty in forcing an entrance into his 
 mind. 
 
 He was very proud of his niece and had never 
 doubted that she would grow to womanhood a credit 
 to all the traditions of his family. 
 
 He had been somewhat disappointed that she had 
 taken no more interest in the glimpse of London life 
 he had afforded her. She had seemed to be a mere 
 interested spectator of all the scenes of gaiety to 
 which he had introduced her, although she was not 
 wanting in a certain zest and enjoyment while playing 
 the role. But he had charged her failure to inexpe- 
 rience, and on his return, had promised himself that 
 she should see more of the society to which she 
 rightly belonged. Now, as often as he observed how 
 rapidly her womanly charms were ripening, and how 
 fit she was becoming to take her place anywhere with 
 credit as his niece, and as the feminine representative 
 of the family, that promise was recalled to him. 
 
 Brand had begun, little by little, as his returning 
 strength permitted, to mingle in the life of the place, 
 and he did not attempt to conceal the charm that he 
 
 found in it. 
 
 45 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He was surprised and delighted to discover almost 
 immediately, that this beautiful girl, whose face had 
 attracted him from the first, was inclined to listen to 
 the story of his mission. 
 
 His host was not so responsive, although he listened 
 courteously, and often surprised him with a shrewd 
 rejoinder that taxed his ability as a controversialist. 
 
 "I have found this region full of unusual interest," 
 said Brand one morning, glancing appreciatively at 
 Carissa's bright face, but speaking to Mr. Gordon. 
 
 "It is true the people have not received me as read- 
 ily here as in some places, but men who mingle with 
 their fellows on such a mission as mine cannot always 
 count on a courteous reception." 
 
 There was no bitterness in his tone as he made this 
 explanation. It was simply the statement of a fact. 
 Perhaps it contained a subtle appeal to the sympathy 
 that seemed so ready. 
 
 "What is your mission?" asked Carissa, thinking of 
 the testimony of Thomas Batt, and impulsively yield- 
 ing to her desire to know something definite. 
 
 "My mission is to proclaim the truth of primitive 
 Christianity," he answered with a grave smile. "Does 
 it seem strange to you that this should be unwelcome 
 in a land dotted with churches and chapels and swarm- 
 ing with clergymen and preachers? And yet in so- 
 called Christian England and America we have 
 encountered incredible opposition and sometimes even 
 a hearing has been denied us." 
 
 Gordon looked at his guest with an air of superior 
 understanding. 
 
 "My dear sir, that is the claim advanced by every 
 new Christian sect for centuries past. There's always 
 
 46 
 
MR. BRAND DECLARES HIS MISSION 
 
 something new in the matter of religion," he added, 
 resignedly. "I suppose it's due to the growing rest- 
 lessness of the world. It's hardly worth while to 
 oppose a new faith. Like other fashions, it will soon 
 be set aside." 
 
 He spoke in a tone of opposition which was merely 
 an expression of inbred conservatism. But Carissa 
 observed the effect upon Brand's face and was inter- 
 ested. 
 
 "But, underneath this restlessness and change, there 
 is deep hunger for what is genuine, is there not?" she 
 asked in a tone of serious inquiry. "Surely there 
 must be something besides fashion in religion or our 
 deepest needs can never be satisfied!" 
 
 Mr. Gordon looked at her in surprise. "Tut, tut, 
 child," he said, in light rebuke. "What do you know 
 about this? Of course, that is genuine which is his- 
 toric and established and has stood the test of time. 
 It's only what is new and strange that is of the nature 
 of mere fashion." 
 
 "Pardon me," said Brand, courteously, "faith has 
 succeeded faith through all these centuries; that is 
 true, but each new form has proved its inability to 
 meet the needs of men and to bring the world 
 into touch with God. The growing restlessness that 
 you speak of, is abundant evidence of this fact. It is 
 part of our belief that the old church became hope- 
 lessly corrupt, because it forsook the truth centuries ago. 
 The reformers of each age have failed because they 
 did not go back far enough. They sought to graft a 
 new shoot on a rotten tree. The only way of restora- 
 tion was by a new creation. Does it seem unreason- 
 able to you that in the fullness of time of prophecy, 
 
 47 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 such a church should be re-established by the per- 
 sonal authority of Christ Himself?" 
 
 Brand had begun by addressing Mr. Gordon, but 
 the look of inquiry and understanding in Carissa's 
 eyes had proved the stronger magnet. His thought 
 was not interrupted but stimulated by his deliberate 
 admiration. Her face mirrored every transition of 
 feeling. He felt that his mission, the object of con- 
 tempt to so many, was clothed with new dignity by 
 her attitude. 
 
 She was too much absorbed to experience any 
 troublesome self-consciousness that would cause her 
 to drop her eyes before him, and when he ceased she 
 answered with a touch of sadness. 
 
 "Since I have read in my father's books of how 
 deeply men thought in the past and how intense were 
 their spiritual struggles, all that I have known of 
 religious service has seemed stately and beautiful, but 
 so elusive and shadowy. Sometimes I have wondered 
 where I should go if a real need should overtake me." 
 "My child, what are you saying?" said Gordon, 
 impatiently. "There is too much hysterics in some 
 men's religion." And then seeing the quick mist 
 gathering in her eyes, he added more considerately, 
 "A well ordered life has its own compensations, and 
 you will find your father's religion quite sufficient if 
 you ever need it." 
 
 "Was your father a clergyman and of the Estab- 
 lished Church?" Brand asked. 
 
 "Yes. He was a chaplain in the army. I do not 
 remember him, but he has recorded many of his own 
 perplexities upon the margins of his books, which I 
 have read and cherished," she answered wistfully. 
 
 48 
 
MR. BRAND DECLARES HIS MISSION 
 
 "Good men of every age, who have thought deeply 
 and inquired diligently for the truth, have been per- 
 plexed by the inconsistencies they have met," 
 responded Brand, gently. "If the way to truth had 
 been by research, if the light of knowledge were given 
 as the reward of faithfulness in the old paths, or of 
 enterprise in marking out new ones, the world would 
 not have remained in the darkness of error and uncer- 
 tainty. No! God has reserved the light until these 
 days, when, according to His gracious purpose, He has 
 made it known in a new and glorious dispensation." 
 
 Gordon was not especially pleased with the turn 
 of the conversation. He might have been seriously 
 disturbed if he had carefully noted its effect upon 
 Carissa. He had known little or nothing about her 
 reading or the real character of her inner life. He had 
 never looked into the books she prized so highly, nor 
 speculated concerning their contents or the influence 
 they might exert. He had been content to see her 
 growing to womanhood in what he considered a per- 
 fectly normal manner, cultivating acquaintance with 
 the life of the neighborhood, carefree and happy, with, 
 of course, a proper reverence for all respectable ordi- 
 nances of religion, and observing the proprieties of her 
 station in life. It would have seemed a misfortune to 
 him and incredible that she should form strong schis- 
 matic religious opinions. He was now somewhat sur- 
 prised that the subject should interest her, and, still 
 more, to hear her confession that she had thought for 
 herself on these matters and was inclined to shape 
 her own conclusions. 
 
 "I can understand the spirit that is unsatisfied with 
 conventional religious services and a passive life," 
 
 49 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 continued Brand, after a moment of thought. "Life 
 is too precious a thing to be wasted upon trivialities. 
 There is a vast hunger in the world that is clamoring 
 for satisfaction. The instincts of humanity must be 
 met; and, for the one who sees these things, it would be 
 cowardly and selfish to sit back with folded hands in 
 the enjoyment of ease and luxury. Our mission is to 
 arouse the selfish, to awaken the blind to an open 
 vision of the world's need and to offer, to every aspir- 
 ing soul, that satisfying service in the world which the 
 spirit of the Most High has made ready for him in 
 these last days." 
 
 Carissa could almost believe that the speaker read 
 her thought and interpreted her deepest wishes. She 
 was in perfect harmony with him in all that he said. 
 
 "And yet the world is so slow to hear!" he con- 
 tinued, "so dull and sluggish to understand! Men 
 despise the truth that would lift them from the sordid- 
 ness of their lives. They spurn the hand that would 
 lead them from penury and filth to a clean, wholesome, 
 happy life in the land God has given for an inher- 
 itance." 
 
 "Is it not because they do not understand?" said 
 Carissa, obeying the impulse to speak a sympathetic 
 word. "It takes time and strength to shake off 
 inherited prejudice." 
 
 "That is true," he said, looking up with a sudden 
 expression of conscious fellowship. "Our great 
 prophet, to whom God committed the keys of the new 
 and everlasting covenant, predicted the difficulties as 
 well as the ultimate triumph that were before the 
 chosen people. In vision he beheld the literal fulfill- 
 ment of the promise of the coming of all nations to 
 
 50 
 
MR. BRAND DECLARES HIS MISSION 
 
 the mountain of the Lord's house that should be 
 established in the tops of the mountains; and this 
 vision shall never fail." 
 
 "Who is this prophet that you speak of so rever- 
 ently?" asked Carissa. 
 
 "His mantle has fallen upon another," he answered. 
 "He met his death at the hands of an angry mob; but 
 he was not called to martyrdom until he had re-estab- 
 lished the church upon a sure foundation. He was 
 but a mere boy when the truth came to him. You 
 might consider the story of his life in the light of the 
 most unreal romance, but — " he paused, and a look 
 of awe as at the remembrance of something sacred, 
 came into his face, — "I have had witness of its truth." 
 
 She did not ask what that witness was, but she felt 
 that it had been conclusive, at least to him. Indeed, she 
 had no chance to ask, for Mr. Gordon here interposed. 
 
 "Come, Mr. Brand," he said, breaking in upon the 
 silence and his guest's abstraction. "If we are to take 
 a look about the place before luncheon we must lose 
 no time." 
 
 Carissa remained where they left her, her mind 
 busy in reconstructing all the impressions of the last 
 few days. She had been convinced of Brand's absolute 
 sincerity, and that he believed his cause worth battling 
 for. He had not attempted to entertain her with 
 small talk; from the first he had spoken of his work 
 boldly, convincingly, and with proud loyalty. Some- 
 times he almost seemed to have forgotten her — so 
 absorbed had he been in setting forth the truth that 
 he held. Long after he had left her she continued to 
 feel the force of his personality, and to let her mind 
 follow along the lines of thought he had opened. 
 
 51 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE COURSE OF EVENTS 
 
 It did not take long for Mr. Brand to find a strong 
 personal interest creeping into his relations with 
 Carissa. 
 
 As Mrs. Chamberlayne had predicted, they found 
 abundant opportunity for conversation, and he usually 
 turned it with great skill to the hopes and the plans 
 of his people. Brand was sincerely devoted to his 
 work, and, with his temperament and ideals, was not 
 likely to neglect an opportunity of making a convert, 
 wherever possible, to his system of belief. 
 
 At first, his conversation with Carissa was shaped 
 by his training as a controversial preacher, but later 
 he began, skillfully and almost unconsciously, to 
 adapt himself to her thought and to play upon her 
 sensibilities with the art of a master. 
 
 He was a man of eager passions, and had been 
 strongly attracted to her from the first interview. 
 Later, he studied the charm of her manner, and was 
 both flattered and inspired by her close attention. 
 
 His mission to England had lasted several years, 
 and was about to terminate. He was looking forward 
 to active participation in the ambitious plans of his 
 people, and knew that he would be expected, in per- 
 formance of one of his first duties, to create a house- 
 hold of his own. 
 
 During his missionary travels, his fancy had been 
 occasionally aroused. But his stay in any one place 
 
 52 
 
THE COURSE OF EVENTS 
 
 had been brief, and his exacting duties had been such 
 as to leave him little room to consult his inclination. 
 Squire Gordon was serenely unconscious of any 
 possibility of danger to his niece that might be lurk- 
 ing in the long interviews that she held with their 
 guest. He had received Brand generously, had treated 
 him courteously, and had begun to like him, though 
 usually bored by the style of his conversation. He 
 joined them occasionally, however, and admitted 
 that "when he was off his hobby," as he expressed it, 
 he could be quite a companionable and agreeable 
 fellow. He recognized this man's ability as a clever 
 talker, and thought he would make a good election 
 agent to bring voters to the polls. He felt, in a meas- 
 ure, the magnetic force of his strong personality, but 
 could not understand how his remarkable religious 
 theories could make any lasting impression upon a 
 well-balanced mind, and it certainly would have 
 seemed to him unreasonable that Carissa was likely to 
 be seriously influenced by this chance visitor, on so 
 brief an acquaintance. 
 
 It was, nevertheless, true that her interest was grow- 
 ing steadily day by day, and, as she entered more fully 
 into the life that he had lived and into the plans for 
 the future that he laid before her, her own past 
 seemed barren and empty, and her own future, as it 
 appeared mapped out before her, seemed strangely 
 uninviting and fruitless. 
 
 Matters had thus been progressing for nearly a 
 week, and Brand had fully recovered his strength, 
 though he still lingered on as a guest in this hospitable 
 home, when Dr. Brooks found Carissa snugly ensconced 
 in a favorite nook at one corner of the tennis ground. 
 
 53 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 To his partial eyes, no more attractive picture could 
 be imagined than she presented; a dainty figure, seated 
 comfortably upon a rustic seat, in the shade of an 
 arbor, and deeply absorbed in an old well-worn pam- 
 phlet which she held in her hands. 
 
 He somehow felt a vague sense of relief at finding 
 her alone. The day before, he had discovered Brand 
 at her side in this same spot, and talking earnestly; 
 as a result he had carried away a disagreeable impres- 
 sion, which had troubled him most unreasonably ever 
 since, and which had led him to drive around that way 
 again as soon as his morning calls were made. 
 
 "What have you there, Carissa, that's so interest- 
 ing?" he called gaily, as she failed to look up at his 
 approach. 
 
 As she lifted her eyes to his, he saw that they were 
 moist with unshed tears. 
 
 *Tt is the story of his people that Mr. Brand has 
 given me to read," she answered, turning the title 
 page toward him. 
 
 The uneasy impression which he had carried over- 
 night, and which had been banished for a moment, 
 returned more strongly than ever at the veiled con- 
 fession of her words and manner. 
 
 "Let me see it," he said, reaching out his hand to 
 take it. 
 
 Something in his tone induced her to parley with 
 him. 
 
 "Will you give it back?" she asked, withdrawing it 
 from his reach, and challenging him with pretty 
 defiance. "I haven't finished it yet." 
 
 "Oh yes, I suppose you'll have your own way," he 
 declared, covering his real impatience with a tone of 
 
 54 
 
THE COURSE OF E\^ENTS 
 
 raillery that was familiar to her. "You have been 
 wretchedly spoiled, Carissa." 
 
 "By whom, pray tell?" 
 
 "By all of us — but let me see that paper. Come, 
 I'll give it back." 
 
 "Honor bright?" 
 
 "Yes, honor bright." 
 
 It was entitled, "The Mormons, A Discourse 
 Delivered before the Historical Society of Penn- 
 sylvania, March 26, 1850, by Colonel Thomas L. 
 Kane." 
 
 As he turned the pages he found that it was a thrill- 
 ing and pathetic portrayal of the sorrows and wrongs 
 of a persecuted people; driven from their homes, 
 wandering in the wilderness, sustained by their faith 
 in the promises of God, and unified by the courage 
 and zeal of self-sacrificing leaders. 
 
 The story opened with a traveler's description of 
 his visit to the deserted temple-city of the Mormons, 
 soon after their expulsion and exile at the hands of a 
 brutal mob. It pictured the distress, homesickness 
 and bewilderment of this exiled people, and followed 
 them onward, over plains and mountains, through 
 hardships and privations, in the face of incredible 
 obstacles, till they finally entered the land God had 
 promised them as an inheritance. It represented 
 them as a God-fearing, truth-loving, devoted people, 
 against whom the whole world was arrayed in jealous 
 hatred and active hostility. 
 
 As he finally closed the book he saw that Carissa 
 was scanning his face eagerly. 
 
 "A very thrilling romance, I should judge," he 
 commented, dryly, as he handed it back to her. "But" 
 
 55 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 — considerable indignation crept into his tone as he 
 thought of Brand, and speculated on his purpose, — 
 "if it should be put forth as a serious contribution to 
 the history of our day, it could have only a mischiev- 
 ous tendency." 
 
 "Why do you say that?" she asked in a hurt tone, 
 while a spot of red crept into her cheek. 
 
 "Because it would be rank poison," he asserted, 
 vigorously; then, controlling himself with an effort, 
 he continued, with deliberate emphasis, "You must 
 learn, my dear, that the worst kind of a lie is the kind 
 that cloaks an evil with a false appeal to sympathy or 
 puts a glamour upon ugly things." 
 
 "But what makes you think this does that?" she 
 persisted. 
 
 "Carissa, listen to me — I don't know what purpose 
 this man has in putting that thing into your hands. 
 But, remember, we are not living in the dark ages, 
 and wherever you find a man or a cause hated and dis- 
 trusted by a large number of people, you may be very 
 sure there is some good reason at the back of it." 
 
 "You are cruelly unjust," she exclaimed, in an 
 injured tone and yet with a lingering appeal in her 
 face and manner. "You told me you knew nothing 
 about these people, and yet you condemn them on 
 the ground of mere generalities and in the face of 
 this testimony in their behalf." 
 
 He was surprised and distressed at her attitude, and 
 felt that perhaps he had gone too far in view of the 
 little he could urge to substantiate his position. He 
 could not recede from it, however. 
 
 "Come, my dear," he said, in a tone of remonstrance, 
 "We are not going to quarrel, are we, for the first 
 
 56 
 
THE COURSE OF EVExNTS 
 
 time in our lives too, and over a pathetic little story, 
 written by some unknown sentimentalist, and that has 
 somehow happened to take your fancy?" 
 
 The answer that he received dismayed him more 
 than anything which had gone before; for her self- 
 control suddenly gave way, and she burst into tears. 
 
 "Bless me," he exclaimed, shocked and grieved, 
 and with a troubled sense of self-reproach, "What have 
 I done?" 
 
 He sat down beside her and drew her hands from 
 her face. 
 
 "Forgive me, "he said, capitulating immediately and 
 without thought of the terms. "Fm a bluff, teasing 
 old donkey, and not worthy of your confidence " 
 
 "No, no!" she protested, ashamed of her weakness 
 and struggling against it — "Don't say that!" 
 
 "What is it then?" he asked, turning her face gently 
 toward him. 
 
 He was startled when he saw, behind her tears, the 
 light of an intense earnestness shining in her eyes as 
 she said, falteringly: 
 
 "It seems so terrible that everyone should be 
 against him." 
 
 When Dr. Brooks had succeeded in making his peace, 
 and left her, he went directly to Mr. Gordon. 
 
 "Well, what do you make of him, by this time?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Whom do you mean. Brand?" 
 
 "Yes; he has been here for some time now, and is 
 as strong and well as he ever was." 
 
 "Why, he seems to be a very pleasant sort of a 
 fellow," Gordon answered easily. "I have persuaded 
 him to stay a few days longer." 
 
 57 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "The deuce you have!" the doctor ejaculated, forci- 
 bly. "See here, Squire, that girl of ours, — I am sure 
 you will admit that I am as fond of her as you are, — 
 has conceived a most unaccountable interest both in 
 him and 'his cause,' as she calls it." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Gordon, in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 Brooks described the scene that had just occurred, 
 and gave his own interpretation of it. 
 
 "Hang it, man! You are mistaken!" said Gordon, 
 when he had finished, "the thing is impossible." 
 
 "I trust you are right," said the doctor, after a short 
 silence, "but I rather doubt it. You will, I hope, send 
 him away as soon as possible, and in the meanwhile 
 don't trust her with him! We know nothing about 
 him, you know." 
 
 "It's utterly impossible," Gordon repeated to 
 himself, after his friend's departure. "But it will be 
 well to be watchful, nevertheless." 
 
 He suddenly remembered that he had consented to 
 drive his guest and Carissa over to Portreath, where 
 Brand had an engagement to preach on the following 
 night. 
 
 "She did urge the matter rather strongly," he 
 reflected. "And she's talked with him by the hour. 
 But Brooks is certainly wrong. It cannot be possible 
 that she should become interested in such a man as he 
 is — or in the absurd theories he is constantly airing." 
 He repeated these assurances to himself as often as 
 the question returned, but in spite of this fact he was 
 evidently much more disturbed than he cared to 
 admit. 
 
 On leaving Squire Gordon's, Dr. Brooks suddenly 
 
 58 
 
THE COURSE OF E \^ E X T S 
 
 recalled the scene he had witnessed in front of Clif- 
 ford's Inn. 
 
 "Perhaps something can be made of that!" he said 
 to himself, and turning his horse down the St. Day 
 road, he drove rapidly and without stopping past the 
 inn and the old town, until he came to a group of 
 cottages not far from Vogue Hill cuttings, which 
 were occupied exclusively by miners' families. He 
 halted at one of these and, without leaving his trap, 
 called through the open door. 
 
 Immediately a young woman stepped to the door- 
 way. 
 
 "Come here a moment, Mary, I want to speak to 
 you." 
 
 Although the day was warm she caught up a 
 shawl, and throwing it over her head, stepped to his 
 side. 
 
 "Who was that young man I saw you talking with 
 down near Clifford's the other morning?" he asked 
 without preface. "You know when I mean." 
 
 She appeared somewhat surprised, but answered 
 readily enough. 
 
 "Caleb Broom, sir." 
 
 "You called several times, I believe, to inquire 
 about the young preacher who was hurt and who was 
 staying there, didn't you?" 
 
 She dropped her eyes in sudden embarrassment, and 
 held the shawl a little closer about her face. 
 
 "Come — you're an honest girl, aren't you?" the doc- 
 tor said, impatiently. "If so, there's nothing to be 
 ashamed of!" 
 
 "I bean't ashamed!" she suddenly declared, meeting 
 the doctor's shrewd gaze squarely, "but folks be 
 
 59 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 talkin', and what they've sayed es cruel" Her eyes 
 filled with tears, but she did not drop them again, 
 "1 heard un preach ower to Redruth, 'nd he spoke 
 what opened mine eyes to the truth, 'nd I wull be 
 baptized in the faith no matter what they say." 
 
 "Is that all you have ever had to do with him?" he 
 persisted, not ungently. "Come, Mary, I'll be your 
 friend, no matter what has happened." 
 
 "That ^j all!" she declared emphatically, her dark 
 eyes flashing the honest indignation she felt. 
 
 Dr. Brooks was convinced, though it must be 
 acknowledged that he confessed the fact to himself 
 with a certain degree of disappointment. 
 
 "There, there, Mary," he said, soothingly. "I 
 believe what you say; you're a good girl. But think 
 of your old father, he'll take it hard if you leave 
 the chapel where he took you when you were a 
 baby." 
 
 "I do think o' un — 'nd I want Mr. Brand to come 
 and talk weth un, too." 
 
 "Perhaps he will when he is strong enough. Can 
 you tell me, Mary, where I can see Caleb?" 
 
 "Ye' 11 likely find un at Trewin's," she answered 
 with quickly assumed indifference. "I seen un 
 together this morning." 
 
 From Caleb, Dr. Brooks could gain nothing, except 
 the sullen admission that he hated the new preacher, 
 but that he had abandoned all further idea of ven- 
 geance. 
 
 "Thomas Batt brung complaint against un 'nd they 
 bound un ower t' keep the peace," exclaimed Trewin, 
 indicating the young man at his side. "But ye'd bet- 
 ter tell un that there's men a plenty aside from us as 
 
 60 
 
THE COURSE OF EVENTS 
 
 won't stand un's preachin' 'nd tracktin' 'nd smooth 
 talkin' here." 
 
 'They're a set of dumb, obstinate, savage brutes," 
 said Dr. Brooks to himself, exasperated Into the utter- 
 ance of a gross Injustice, as he drove away little wiser 
 than when he came. 
 
 61 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 A VEILED COURTSHIP 
 
 Eaton Brand was not ignorant of the impression he 
 had made, nor blind to its advantages. He had neither 
 feared nor shunned the task of thorough analysis, both 
 of the situation and of his own desires. He knew 
 there were tremendous obstacles in his way, but he 
 had been accustomed to meeting obstacles all his life, 
 and he had learned in the school of experience to have 
 confidence in himself and in his own resources. 
 
 His habit of religious thought also reinforced his 
 inclination. It was for this, he thought, that his steps 
 had been guided hither and that the fury of his ene- 
 mies had been permitted to burst upon him. Provi- 
 dence had also been preparing this confiding girl, who 
 possessed such genius for enthusiasm, to receive a mes- 
 sage that would otherwise have been hopelessly strange 
 to her. 
 
 During dinner he noticed that his host seemed 
 strangely irritable, and that he invariably interrupted 
 every approach to the usual topic of conversation. 
 He also observed that a cloud as of sorrow or of self- 
 questioning had descended to obscure Carissa's usually 
 bright spirits. He cast about him to find the reason 
 for this change, though, to his mind, her pensive, 
 tremulous thoughtfulness revealed a new charm that 
 touched him deeply. 
 
 The days were passing. He must soon take his 
 departure. If his cherished wishes should be sus- 
 
 62 
 
A VEILED COURTSHIP 
 
 pected, every long established influence of her life 
 would become arrayed ' against him — and the very 
 opportunities which had thus far favored him and 
 upon which he counted, would be gone. 
 
 He must speak soon, and plainly. No matter what 
 the risk, he must not delay much longer in putting the 
 matter to the test. 
 
 What had he to build upon? Her sympathy for 
 him and for his people. Her restlessness and desire 
 for a place in the real work of the world, and that 
 unknown quantity — whatever of personal regard and 
 interest he had been able to inspire. 
 
 When the two men rose from the table. Brand went 
 to the terrace, where they usually spent the long 
 summer evenings, but Carissa was not there, and he 
 felt a pang of sudden disappointment. The next 
 moment he heard Mr. Gordon approaching down the 
 hall, and wishing to be alone, he stepped down from 
 the terrace and crossed the lawn into the park. 
 
 Near the entrance was a broad stone seat, sheltered 
 by trees, and commanding a view of the rough bleak 
 country between Gwennap and St. Day. 
 
 Here he found Carissa, and his face cleared of its 
 shadow as she looked up with a smile of welcome at 
 his approach. 
 
 "I have been looking for you," he said in a way 
 that invited her confidence. "I have not seen you 
 since morning. These golden days are precious to 
 me. I prize them, for they must pass away so soon." 
 
 "I know," she said a little sadly, turning her eyes 
 away from him. 
 
 "I have lingered longer now, than I should, per- 
 haps," he went on. "But you have come into my life 
 
 63 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 strangely, and I have wanted to make myself known 
 to you, and my work.'* 
 
 He hesitated a moment, but she made no sign, and 
 he continued. "I have felt the charm of the life you 
 live, and know that the story of my people, and their 
 hopes, must have sounded strangely to you, who have 
 been reared in this quiet atmosphere." 
 
 "It has sounded strangely," she confessed, yielding 
 to her native instinct for straightforward utterance, 
 "and all that suffering seems so unnecessary. I did 
 not know that men were so cruel." 
 
 "How could you know?" he answered compassion- 
 ately. "Your life has been sheltered; circumstances 
 have put you outside the realm where men battle and 
 struggle against adverse conditions, and where vin- 
 dictive passions of hatred and violence are given free 
 rein. You have never felt the tide of life, desperately 
 surging on in the darkness, where men are blindly 
 fighting for the next thing that seems desirable, and 
 trampling those who would introduce the light of 
 God's message. Yet the spirit of Christ would lead 
 us to throw ourselves against the current as He did, 
 and be swept away, if need be, by the torrent of their 
 bitter animosity." 
 
 He knew that he had arrested and was holding her 
 attention; more than that, he was forcing her convic- 
 tion. His voice was rich in quality, and under perfect 
 control; the rugged lines of his face, in spite of its 
 slight pallor, spoke of strength and of the energy of 
 conviction. His glance was fearless and magnetic; 
 and the vivid mark still upon his temple brought 
 before her the scene of violence where he had been the 
 strangely unresisting victim. 
 
 64 
 
A VEILED COURTSHIP 
 
 "There have been many brave battles in defense of 
 what men believed to be the truth," he continued, 
 "but the greatest struggle of the ages is before us. 
 Our prophet was commanded to set up the visible 
 kingdom of God upon earth, and was clothed with 
 authority to rule in the name of Christ. The result 
 has been the breaking forth of a storm of persecution 
 as bitter as in the days of the early church." 
 
 Carissa had never heard any one speak as he spoke. 
 There had never been any hint of apology for intro- 
 ducing a subject of conversation which had always 
 been politely avoided by her uncle and his friends. 
 And it certainly is not strange that his bold and 
 enthusiastic championship of a cause, which others 
 despised, should command her thorough respect and 
 reinforce her feeling of personal interest. 
 
 Suddenly he turned again to her and said in a low 
 tone, "During these days I have spoken to you very 
 freely about my work. Do you think it presumptuous 
 that I believed you would not only understand it, but 
 also appreciate it, and perhaps — love it?" 
 
 She was confused by the abrupt transition, and 
 something in his tone called the blood quickly to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "Have you not felt that there was a place, some- 
 where in the world, waiting for you?" he insisted, 
 "and some work that you alone could do?" 
 
 As he studied her face, he felt his pulse beat a little 
 quicker. In his experience, he had learned that he 
 could safely count on a certain restlessness and dis- 
 satisfaction with present spiritual attainments in per- 
 sons of ardent temperament. Carissa had never been 
 fully in sympathy with the religious services to which 
 
 65 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 she had been accustomed. She had confessed the 
 fact sadly, but so far the habit of a lifetime had held 
 her to what was familiar. Would he be able to lead 
 her to break through this habit? Presently she looked 
 up and he saw that her face was full of trouble. 
 
 "What can I do?" she asked, appealingly. "I do 
 not want my life to be stifled in idle contentment, 
 and I have dreamed that I had a work to do in the 
 world if I only knew the way." 
 
 He leaned toward her impulsively, while a strange 
 light came into his eyes. 
 
 "I know that the traditions of your world are all 
 opposed to your desire," he said, in a controlled 
 voice. "But, could you not brave these traditions? 
 Tell me, would you dare to form convictions that 
 would alienate you from your kind? Would you have 
 the strength to act on those convictions, once 
 formed?" 
 
 She was bewildered by^ the directness of his low- 
 voiced questions, and yet was intensely moved. He 
 saw it, and, turning away from her, he fixed his eyes 
 on the ground, while he began plucking to pieces a 
 bit of trailing vine, which clambered profusely over 
 the low railing. 
 
 "From earliest boyhood, I have been made to feel 
 the attitude of the world to the cause I love," he 
 began, sadly. "I have not spared myself, and I have 
 never regretted the toil. I have never married, 
 because, well, — my whole soul has been absorbed in 
 the work. I have preached in city streets and coun- 
 try lanes, sometimes to thousands, sometimes to 
 groups of two and three. I have faced anger, criti- 
 cism, ridicule, and contempt. Sometimes the way 
 
 66 
 
A VEILED COURTSHIP 
 
 has seemed lonely, and the world hopelessly set 
 against the truth. At such times confidence in my 
 message alone has sustained me; — again the way has 
 opened marvelously, and thousands have believed; vil- 
 lages have been transformed and whole districts have 
 been aroused." 
 
 He suddenly looked and saw the bright tears of 
 sympathy in her eyes. 
 
 "But it has been glorious 1" he went on with a smile 
 of triumph. "Glorious in spite of the difficulties. It 
 was very trying at first, to be laid aside during these 
 weeks, doubly important because they marked the 
 close of my mission; but I am beginning to see that 
 God's hand was in it." 
 
 His voice dropped, and a note of something more 
 than reverence thrilled through the reverent form of 
 speech. 
 
 "It was His way of leading me to this place, and 
 — to you." Perhaps no other words could have met 
 her mood so perfectly, or have so firmly rooted her 
 convictions of his truth and sincerity. 
 
 "May I tell you what an inspiration you have been 
 to me?" he urged, meeting her glance fully and cast- 
 ing away all reserve. "Your sympathy and your ready 
 understanding have been very sweet after so many 
 years of toil and hardship in an openly hostile world." 
 
 She understood him, and for an instant met his gaze 
 confidently, but then— the thought came of how much 
 was involved, her eyes became troubled, and she 
 looked away, 
 
 "Do you understand me?" he asked, in a tone of 
 gentle insistence. 
 
 "I have been glad to hear you," she answered, hesi- 
 
 67 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 tatingly, while the color returned quickly to her face. 
 Suddenly she turned to him bravely, and continued, 
 "You have opened a new world to me, but I do not 
 understand it. It seems impossible that men should 
 be so bitter against teachings that inspire only noble 
 thoughts and ideals that are so worthy." 
 
 "Do the ideals that I have presented to you seem 
 worthy?" he leaned forward, and, as he spoke, was 
 intently studying the expression of her face. "Do 
 they seem worthy in comparison with those with which 
 you have been familiar? Are they worthy of a life's 
 devotion? And of sincere advocacy, even at the cost 
 of sacrifice?" 
 
 It was a moment of conflict, she felt an impulse to 
 confess her convictions without reserve, no matter 
 what it might involve, but something held her back. 
 This strong personal appeal had shaken her, and she 
 felt the need of steadying herself. Perceiving this, 
 his manner changed. An expression of discourage- 
 ment swept over him, but he was still alert to catch 
 each change in the mood of his listener. 
 
 "I have not been granted time to present these 
 things before you," he said, wearily. "Your sym- 
 pathy has been very generous, but forgive me! I have 
 permitted myself to indulge in a dream of unreality, it 
 may be. There are so many things that must hold 
 you to this life." 
 
 It was a subtle appeal to her awakened spirit of dis- 
 content. Was she willing to return to her old life of 
 indecision? All the thoughts that she had been 
 cherishing during the past few days returned in force 
 to hasten her inclination. Nevertheless, she felt that 
 something which she was yet unwilling to meet, was 
 
 68 
 
A VEILED COURTSHIP 
 
 lying at the back of the decision she was called upon 
 to make, and her spirit faltered. 
 
 She was about to express her fear, but he stopped her. 
 
 "Do not answer to-night!" he said, quickly inter- 
 preting her hesitation, and speaking in a quick, low 
 tone — "There is nothing more that I can urge, save — 
 that I love you! Carissa, Carissa — let me call you by 
 that name at least this once. Remember, as you think 
 of this to-night, that all my hopes are centered upon 
 your decision." 
 
 He laid his hand for a single instant upon hers — 
 and she felt the thrill of its trembling pressure, then 
 he quickly turned from her side and walked away 
 among the trees. 
 
 For a long time she remained quietly in the same 
 position, scarcely thinking, but with a terrible sense 
 of loneliness in her heart. 
 
 Finally she heard her uncle calling, and shivered 
 a little as she rose to meet him. She had not noticed 
 that the sun had long since gone down, or that it was 
 growing dark. 
 
 "Where have you been, Carissa, and where is Mr. 
 Brand?" he asked, bluntly. 
 
 "He started out for a walk some time ago," she 
 answered, "and I have been sitting on the old stone 
 seat." 
 
 They walked on in silence until they reached the 
 house. When they entered the hall, Mr. Gordon 
 said, irritably, "I shall be glad when he sees fit to 
 take his departure. He is becoming more tiresome 
 every day with his absurd airs and theories." 
 
 Carissa looked up in something like astonishment, 
 wondering what could have happened. 
 
 60 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I have been thinking about our trip that we 
 planned to Portreath," he went on, "and the more I 
 think of it, the less I like it." 
 
 "But we have promised to go," she remonstrated, 
 "and you know how much I want to hear him." 
 
 "I know we have promised, and I suppose we shall 
 have to do it," he replied, with a degree of petulance. 
 "But it will appear very singular that we should con- 
 stitute ourselves this man's protector on his preaching 
 tours, besides — " he stopped a moment, irresolutely, 
 and then plunged desperately into the warning he had 
 intended to give, "Look here, Carissa, I hope that what 
 I am going to say isn't necessary, but anyway I want 
 you to remember that ]\Ir. Brand and his people have 
 no place whatever in your life." 
 
 The words, contemptuous and chilling though they 
 sounded, were not spoken unkindly, but they came 
 like a shock after the scene through which she had 
 passed. She had no words to reply, but as she turned 
 away with a feeling of alienation in her heart, it 
 forced her to face the issue squarely, and certainly 
 hastened her resolution. 
 
 70 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MR. BUSBY ASKS A FEW QUESTIONS— A 
 MORMON SERVICE 
 
 From the first, old Mr. Busby had been sorely 
 troubled at the thought of the presence of this stranger 
 In the same house with his favorite. In spite of his 
 gruff manners, he had a heart of great tenderness for 
 her, and had watched the development of her charac- 
 ter from girlhood with great secret satisfaction and 
 delight. 
 
 Now, however, as he thought of her, of the circum- 
 stances in which she was placed, and of the interest 
 she had manifested, he realized that the very charac- 
 teristics which had delighted him in the past, might 
 become the source of considerable mischief. 
 
 "She's too deuced romantic in her notions," he said 
 to himself in careless contradiction of every other 
 opinion that he had ever entertained. "And there's 
 no telling what infernal doctrines he'll teach her if he 
 gets a chance." 
 
 Reports of the rise and progress of this singular sect 
 had been current in England for some time, but neither 
 Gordon, nor Busby, had taken the trouble to inform 
 themselves concerning it. 
 
 Occasional newspaper articles, usually highly sen- 
 sational and condemnatory, had come under their 
 notice; at one time two missionaries had made a quiet 
 house to house canvass of the district, and a few 
 meetings had been held, but no one had attended 
 
 71 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 except some of the servants and a few working people 
 from the villages; Busby had not considered the 
 matter worthy of more than passing notice, until the 
 besfinninsr of that chain of unfortunate circumstances 
 which led Mr. Gordon to receive one of these people 
 into his house as a guest. 
 
 As soon as his attack of the gout had subsided 
 sufficiently to permit his getting around again with 
 the aid of his stick, Busby determined to go over 
 to Squire Gordon's and satisfy himself that his fears 
 were groundless. 
 
 On the way he met Dr. Brooks, who drew rein and 
 looked back at the house he was leaving, a little anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "You haven't been over for several days?" he 
 inquired as Busby stopped by the side of the trap. 
 
 A grumbled malediction upon his affliction was the 
 sufficient answer. 
 
 "I'm afraid a great mistake has been made," the 
 doctor continued, anxiously. 
 
 "I'm sure of that!" interrupted Busby, with con- 
 siderable energy. 
 
 "He seems to have established a very strong 
 influence over her," the doctor went on, regretfully. 
 "I tried to remonstrate yesterday, but it was of no 
 use." 
 
 "Why doesn't Gordon get rid of the fellow?" Busby 
 demanded. 
 
 "He will, I suppose, now that the mischief has been 
 done, and her mind has been thoroughly poisoned," 
 was the bitter answer. "He seems to think, though, 
 that no great harm has been done." 
 
 Busby needed no further explanation, but with a 
 
 72 
 
MR. BUSBY ASKS A FEW QUESTIONS 
 
 heartfelt curse upon his old friend's stupidity, made 
 his way as rapidly as possible to the house. 
 
 He found ^Ir. Gordon and his niece, with their 
 guest, seated on the stone terrace. Gordon was evi- 
 dently uncomfortable and ill at ease. Carissa's face 
 wore a peculiar expression of defiant interest, and her 
 eyes were sparkling with intense feeling; as Busby 
 approached, she rose to meet him and conducted him 
 to a large rustic chair, well cushioned and comfortable. 
 
 "]\Ir. Brand is telling us how wonderfully the 
 church is prospering in spite of hatred and hostility," 
 she explained eagerl}-, and almost immediately 
 turned her eyes to the }'oung apostle. 
 
 Gordon glanced apologetically at his friend, who 
 was heated from his walk and frowning. 
 
 "If I may be permitted to interrupt," Busby said, 
 brusquely, "I would like to ask a question." 
 
 "Certainly, sir." Brand turned his clear, penetra- 
 ting eyes upon him and smiled courteously. He 
 expected that the question would be hostile, but he 
 was used to controversy. 
 
 "I have heard that you believe in a golden Bible, 
 translated by the aid of a peep-stone. Is that true?" 
 He spoke sneeringly; the situation as it appeared to 
 him was intolerable and needed clearing. He had 
 picked up certain vague points on the subject, and 
 proposed to use them to the best of his ability. 
 
 "Something like that," answered Brand, calmly. 
 "Only the 'golden Bible' is a record of the early 
 inhabitants of America, and the 'peep-stone' was the 
 Urim and Thummim of the Lord Almight}'. They 
 were both revealed to the prophet Joseph by an angel 
 messenger and in fulfillment of the Scriptures." 
 
 73 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Busby was exasperated at Brand's coolness and his 
 air of assurance, and his own face became purple. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that the Lord Almighty 
 had anything to do with the insane imaginings of an 
 epileptic money-digger?" 
 
 "Mr. Busby!" exclaimed Carissa, horrified at his 
 rude violence. 
 
 There was a strange look of fierce indignation in 
 her eyes. Mr. Gordon also appeared a little uneasy 
 at his friend's uncompromising methods, though he 
 could not repress a comical look of approval at the 
 attack. 
 
 "Let me reply," said Brand, quietly, and then 
 turning to his questioner with an expression of stern- 
 ness upon his face, he continued: 
 
 "You ask concerning God's agency in this work. 
 First, the time was ripe for divine interference. The 
 nations of the earth had become unutterably corrupt. 
 The salt of Christianity had lost its savor. The church 
 had become paganized — had lost its pristine glory and 
 beauty. From the time when a wicked and apostate 
 church began to persecute the saints of the Most 
 High, killed the prophets of God and drove the priest- 
 hood from the earth, there was no one left to admin- 
 ister the ordinances of the Gospel. No prophets, no 
 apostles, no gifts of the Holy Ghost, no one to act as 
 God's mouthpiece to the children of men." 
 
 He paused a moment and glanced at Carissa, who 
 was regarding him with deep attention. 
 
 "Because this was true," he continued impressively, 
 "the iniquity of the world was great. The church 
 itself had become Babylon, the scarlet woman the 
 mother of harlots; for after she became drunk with the 
 
 74 
 
MR. BUSBY ASKS A FEW QUESTIONS 
 
 blood of the saints, she became the mother of a legion 
 of children, the so-called Christian sects, with their 
 strife and divisions. Look around you and observe 
 the discord and contention that prevail. 
 
 "But a restoration was promised. John the revela- 
 tor looked forward to the day when the dispensation 
 of the fullness of times should be ushered in. 'I saw,' 
 said John, 'another angel fly in the midst of heaven, 
 having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them 
 that dwell on the earth, and to every nation and kin- 
 dred and tongue and people, saying with a loud voice, 
 Fear God and give glory to him; for the hour of his 
 judgment is come.' " 
 
 Brand's face was luminous, his voice was thrilling. 
 His auditors could not help but feel the spell of his 
 magnetism. He lowered his voice reverently. 
 
 "That vision has been fulfilled; the Gospel has been 
 restored; God has set up His kingdom upon earth, 
 nevermore to be thrown down, and we are its messen- 
 gers." 
 
 Mr. Busby had his eyes fixed upon Carissa, whose 
 face was confident and glowing. He felt that perhaps 
 he had made a mistake to provoke a discussion, and 
 that some diversion must be made. 
 
 "But was not your prophet, Joseph Smith, shot as 
 an impostor?" he demanded, harshly. 
 
 "True," replied Brand, sadly, "but was not Jesus 
 Christ crucified for the same reason?" 
 
 "Come, come," interposed Gordon, hastily. "We 
 have discussed this subject long enough. I abominate 
 these religious controversies." 
 
 "One more question," persisted Busby. "They say 
 that your church practices polygamy. Is that true?" 
 
 75 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Carissa glanced quickly at their guest. His face 
 seemed to pale and then to flush slightly as though 
 stung by the scorn of the speaker. 
 
 "The report is false," he said abruptly, and then 
 as he caught the expression upon Carissa's face, he 
 added calmly, "the slander originated with an apos- 
 tate by the name of Bennett, who charged that the 
 church believed in the doctrine of spiritual wives. I 
 have with me a clipping from one of our papers, 'The 
 Times and Seasons,' November, 1844, which fully 
 answers your question." He took the paper from his 
 wallet and read, " 'The law of the land and the rules 
 of the church do not allow one man to have more than 
 one wife alive at once, but if any man's wife die he has 
 a right to marry another and to be sealed to both for 
 eternity, to the living and the dead. This is ^z// //^^ 
 spiritual wife system that was ever tolerated in the church.' 
 
 "That disposes of the question, I believe," he said, 
 rising. "Men have opposed the truth with all their 
 ingenuity. I suppose that this will always be the 
 case. When other methods fail they resort to slander 
 and persecution, social ostracism and violence, but 
 God will guard His own message and bring it forth 
 glorious in spite of His enemies. And now if you will 
 pardon me, I will seek a little rest; I find that I have 
 not fully recovered my strength." 
 
 As he entered the house, Carissa quietly stepped 
 from the terrace and took her way to the old stone seat 
 where she seated herself and seemed lost in thought, 
 looking off over the irregular, broken and picturesque 
 parkland. 
 
 The old friends remained on the terrace silent and 
 
 constrained. 
 
 76 
 
A MORMON SERVICE 
 
 Finally Busby broke the silence with an oath. 
 "You had better get rid of that fellow as quick as you 
 can. In my opinion, you were a fool for ever taking 
 him in," he said, and walked away. 
 
 Gordon was sorry to see him depart, but he would 
 not call him back; he wanted his advice, but he would 
 not ask it; he was perplexed at the indication of 
 strong self-willed purpose on the part of his niece; and 
 he feared that the mischief he would guard against had 
 already been wrought. 
 
 There was a feeling of constraint resting upon the 
 party, that started after supper on the drive to Por- 
 treath. Carissa seemed to be the least depressed and 
 talked brightly of the people and related quaint legends 
 of the old houses that they passed. 
 
 She grew silent, however, as they approached their 
 destination; the gathering gloom seemed more oppres- 
 sive as they left the open country for the village streets. 
 
 **Down this way," said Brand, indicating a side 
 street, with a wave of his hand. 
 
 A motley crew of men and boys drew back as the 
 carriage stopped. 
 
 "Golly, but he's a holy swell!" cried a voice from 
 among them. 
 
 "Stow that, can't you see Squire Gordon's weth un?" 
 said a lounger from the water-side, who slouched for- 
 ward and touched his cap respectfully. 
 
 Brand paid no attention, but seeing Carissa coming 
 forward on her uncle's arm, he went forward into the 
 place of meeting. , 
 
 The "hall" was a dreary-looking place. An old 
 barn, long since abandoned, had been resurrected from 
 a state of almost hopeless decay, and was lighted with 
 
 77 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 candles and spluttering oil lamps. A rude contrivance 
 at one side of the low shed served as a pulpit, and 
 unsmoothed planks supported by boxes were provided 
 as seats for the people. The floor was of dirt, beaten 
 bare in spots and scooped in little hollows where the 
 rain had driven through the unthatched roof. A num- 
 ber of people, subdued and orderly but unmistakably 
 of the lower classes, were seated quietly in the front 
 rows. The crowd outside closed in upon the entrance 
 and stood awkwardly staring as at the performance of 
 some show. Occasionally a small boy would be pro- 
 pelled forward by a push from behind, and would 
 clumsily scramble back under cover of the slow 
 laughter of the rest. 
 
 *T am glad we came after all," thought Gordon, as 
 they seated themselves uncomfortably on one of the 
 rickety seats. "This ought to dispel any romantic 
 notions she may have formed." 
 
 Carissa was nervously conscious of all the sordid 
 conditions about her, even while she was watching 
 Brand as he made his way to the front. She sawhim 
 now in a new light as he stopped and spoke in low 
 tones to the people, smiling familiarly and kindly and 
 evidently leaving an individual word of promise and 
 good cheer as he passed. 
 
 Just as he reached the front and turned about, some 
 one started a hymn in a rough coarse voice, and one by 
 one the others took up the strain; it was not music, it 
 sounded too harshly. She could not understand the 
 words because of the burr on the tongues of the sing- 
 ers, but before it was ended, it affected her strangely. 
 Earnestness was there if culture was lacking; together 
 with faith and enthusiasm. As the last tones died 
 
 78 
 
A MORMON SERVICE 
 
 away, a voice was lifted in prayer and every head was 
 bowed. In prayer, as in song, Carissa felt that there 
 was present, beneath the coarseness of the utterance 
 and uncouthness of the language, a quality that 
 redeemed it all and made it infinitely more appealing 
 to her than all the melodious intonations of priestly 
 utterance that she had ever heard. 
 
 A local elder seemed to be in charge of the meeting, 
 and as he rose to introduce the speaker, Gordon turned 
 to Carissa and said, contemptuously: 
 
 "It's Anthony Sneed, the biggest scoundrel in these 
 parts. He was Squire William's steward until they 
 discovered his rascality and sent him off. Your whim 
 has brought us into pretty company, my dear." 
 
 His words jarred upon Carissa. She made no reply, 
 however, for Brand was now speaking. He carefully 
 adapted his words to the comprehension of his listen- 
 ers, spoke sympathetically of their trials, encouraged 
 them to steadfastness, exhorted them to patience and 
 endurance, set forth the rewards of perfect obedience, 
 and reminded them that the great leaders of the church 
 were thinking for them, planning for them, and would 
 know of their faithfulness and fidelity. He urged 
 them to live soberly, to work industriously, to save all 
 that was possible from their wages and to prepare to 
 leave the country, where they had known hardship and 
 penury, and to gather to that inheritance that awaited 
 them in the promised land. 
 
 It was not strange that these people, most of them 
 living cramped lives of unremitting toil, with no hope 
 of a future change for the better, should listen to him 
 hungrily and should catch a portion of his outspoken 
 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 79 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Presently his glance fell full upon Carissa, and his 
 theme changed almost abruptly. He began to sketch the 
 outline of a great movement. He spoke of the need 
 of the world, groping about in the darkness, for some 
 guiding ray of light. He declared that the churches 
 of Christendom were of pagan origin, and described 
 the great falling away in the days of Constantine, when 
 pagan rites were introduced within the sacred precincts 
 of Christ's altars, the truth forgotten, the genuine 
 ordinances of Christianity neglected or corrupted and 
 the people deprived of any possible knowledge of the 
 truth, because the Bible was hidden from them and its 
 text tampered with in the monastic seclusion of the 
 dark ages. 
 
 At first his speech was deliberate and his tone 
 low and measured, but gradually he grew rapid 
 and vehement and his enthusiasm was felt by his 
 listeners, while his voice dominated all within the 
 enclosure. 
 
 "The so-called Christian centuries since the days of 
 the early church seem to me woefully pathetic. Cen- 
 turies when the Gospel was hidden and its fruits non- 
 existent; when force was exercised to compel people 
 to submit to man-made dogmas; centuries of the con- 
 vent and the cloister, of the rack and the thumb-screw, 
 of fire-brand and sword, of heartache and despair; 
 when hypocrites taught for hire and divined for money! 
 No wonder that the truth perished from the earth and 
 God withdrew His communication from those who 
 wrested it only to their own destruction. 
 
 "The world has seen many reformers who recog- 
 nized the apostasy into which the church had fallen, 
 and testified against it. But none of them were 
 
 80 
 
A MORMON SERVICE 
 
 divinely commissioned to make restoration, none 
 spoke with the authority of the prophets and apostles 
 of old, and the result is seen in the multitude of war- 
 ring, conflicting sects, who accuse each other of error 
 while blindly pursuing their own instincts instead of 
 the voice of God. The darkness of the dark ages is 
 resting on the minds of men to-day, but we are the 
 divinely commissioned heralds of the dawn. The last 
 days are upon us, and God has spoken. The heavens 
 have opened and the keys of a new dispensation have 
 been committed to men. 
 
 "These are the last days. It was just thirty-one 
 years ago when the Gospel was restored, and a prophet 
 was raised up who would establish Christ's visible 
 kingdom upon earth. What a glorious mission! To 
 him was given authority to issue a call for the gather- 
 ing of His people to Zion. The call has gone forth! 
 The people are coming! Coming! The time is at 
 hand when the nations of earth shall hearken to the 
 voice of the Most High through His servants. Will 
 you heed the call? You who have felt the truth of the 
 message?" 
 
 He paused abruptly. His burning glance, turned 
 full upon her, drove the question home to Carissa's 
 quivering heart. He seemed to forget the people 
 before him, and she forgot them. Her lips moved, 
 but she could not speak. She knew what her answer 
 would be. 
 
 "There will be difficulties before you. Will you 
 heed them?" he was speaking again with a strange 
 cadence of tenderness in his voice. 
 
 "Old ties will be hard to sever. Will you heed the 
 call? New scenes, new faces await you. Will deci- 
 
 81 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 murmured passionately, as he held her in a long close 
 embrace. 
 
 She had no thought for the immediate future. This 
 first love of her life was strong, true, satisfying. It 
 left no room for regret or questioning, but the mind of 
 Brand soon turned to the conditions they must con- 
 sider. It would be an hour before the breakfast bell 
 would be sounded, but there was much still to be put 
 before her. He realized that there was a battle still 
 to be fought before he could look upon his happiness 
 as assured, and he needed to prepare her mind for 
 what was inevitable. 
 
 ■ "Come, dearest," he said presently, leading her 
 gently to the low window seat and taking his place 
 by her side. "There are some things we must speak 
 about. Have you thought of the difficulties that will 
 be thrown in your way? Mr. Gordon, your uncle, how 
 will he look upon it?" 
 
 At the question her face became troubled in spite 
 of her happiness, and her lip quivered. She reached 
 out her hand appealingly. 
 
 "I have thought of that," she confessed. "And he 
 has been so good to me." 
 
 "Darling, is your love equal to the tests that may be 
 put upon it?" He caught her hand and held it firmly 
 while he looked with passionate eagerness into her 
 eyes. "Let me ask you again, Carissa, are you quite 
 willing to brave all the traditions of your life? To 
 face the certain displeasure of your uncle and the dis- 
 approval of all your friends? Are you quite ready to 
 leave this beautiful home and all that it promises of 
 ease and comfort, and to cast in your lot with one who 
 loves you wholly, but who will be compelled to take 
 
 84 
 
CARISSA ACTS OX HER CONVICTIONS 
 
 you into unaccustomed scenes of action and toil? Are 
 you willing to adopt his faith, share his life and be 
 counted among his people?" 
 
 The time of her hesitation was past; true love never 
 falters at the call to sacrifice. Every word that he 
 spoke drew her closer to him. Even her half awak- 
 ened regret, at the thought of leaving all that was 
 familiar, was lost in the enthusiasm he knew so well 
 how to invoke. 
 
 "I will choose you before all the world," she said, 
 in blind devotion to the call her heart had heard, and 
 yielding herself again to his embrace. 
 
 "Darling," he murmured in passionate sincerity, 
 "God will reward you for the sacrifice you are making, 
 and may His anger fall upon me if I ever forget it." 
 
 At this time there was no question with him but 
 that her love, so freely given, would stand supreme in 
 all his life. 
 
 "Carissa," he began again in a low tone after a 
 moment of silence, "I want you to know that there is 
 no room for doubt of you in my heart, but you must 
 understand our position. We must start to-day for 
 London. There we will be married. Will you trust 
 me? Believe me there is no other way." 
 
 She was startled at his words, and a deep flush 
 mounted to her cheeks, but he went on steadily: 
 
 "I will speak to your uncle this morning; I will tell 
 him of our love, but, dearest, do not deceive yourself 
 with false hopes. He will reject me utterly. Do you 
 not know that he has other plans for you? He will 
 seek to hold you to the life he has mapped out for you. 
 Have you not seen his utter lack of sympathy with the 
 cause of God that I represent? After I have spoken, 
 
 85 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 it will be impossible for me to remain in this house, 
 where so great happiness has come to me; or to see 
 you, even for one moment; darling, it is torture to say 
 these things and to feel how true they are, but you 
 must understand and be prepared. For the first time 
 I feel the bitterness and hardness of my position, now 
 that I am asking you to share it. I shall be com- 
 pelled to go, but I cannot leave you, Carissa; come 
 what may, you must go with me. We will soon sail 
 for America, and our new home will be among the 
 chosen people of God. Sweetheart, this is one of the 
 tests of your faith and your love; you must not falter; 
 can I trust you?" 
 
 She was pained and bewildered as she gazed at his 
 pleading face, and listened to his urgent, passionate 
 words. She knew that her uncle would be angered; 
 she remembered his irritation and his reproof uttered 
 in a tone of cold contempt the night before, but she 
 had not considered that her decision, once made, must 
 be acted upon so suddenly. There was no wavering in 
 her confidence as a result of this demand made upon 
 it, but her lips were forming a gentle remonstrance 
 and plea for patience, when her uncle suddenly entered 
 the garden. 
 
 Mr. Gordon had passed a troubled night. His atten- 
 tion, once aroused, had been keen enough to take in 
 something of the significance of the situation. The 
 more he thought about it, the more exasperated he 
 had become at Carissa's unheard of folly, and the more 
 bitterly he blamed himself for his blindness. He did 
 not believe, however, that it was more than a passing 
 romantic interest that she had conceived for this man 
 and his theories, but it was an exceedingly unpleasant 
 
 86 
 
CARISSA ACTS OX HER CONVICTIONS 
 
 revelation that she was capable of anything so absurd. 
 It angered him that the warnings of both Brooks and 
 Busby should be justified. He could not, however, 
 get away from the evidence of his own senses, and, 
 after much inward debate, had come to the conclusion 
 to take the advice given and dismiss his guest, without 
 ceremony if necessary, before the day was over. 
 
 As he made his way to the garden, where he 
 expected to find Carissa, he was thinking these things 
 over in that state of irritation, peculiar to a self-opin- 
 ionated, easy-going man, who has been suddenly sur- 
 prised by an unexpected difficulty in his way. 
 
 When he saw them together in a very lover-like atti- 
 tude, he was terribly startled; the full significance of 
 what might be involved flashed over him. His 
 irritation gave place to a great anger. 
 
 "Mr. Brand," he said, in a constrained tone, "I 
 may have been at fault in permitting you the liberty 
 that you have enjoyed in this place," he glanced 
 involuntarily at Carissa. and then back again at 
 Brand's attentive face. "Pardon me if I am unjust, 
 but I need your assurance that you have not taken 
 advantage of that liberty and of my blindness." 
 
 "Uncle Arthur!" exclaimed Carissa, in a tone of 
 consternation, but Gordon interrupted her, saying: 
 
 "Be silent, Carissa! I am speaking to Mr. Brand. 
 I await your answer, sir." 
 
 Brand's face was white and rigid, but his bearing 
 was that of one who had no apologies to make. 
 
 "I intended to speak wnth you this morning, Mr. 
 Gordon," he said with perfect courtesy, "to confess, in 
 fact, the daring hope that has come to me. If you 
 will listen to me I will speak to you now." 
 
 87 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Gordon was furious; this man's attitude, his 
 very air of courtesy and assumption of dignity, while 
 preferring so preposterous a request, impressed him as 
 a premeditated insult. That Carissa should stand by 
 and listen with evident sympathy and full understand- 
 ing, made the situation unendurable. 
 
 Said the squire, "Mr. Brand, will you have the 
 goodness to — to leave this place? Your belongings 
 will follow you to the inn. You can have nothing to 
 say. Nothing that I should care to listen to!" 
 
 Without either hurry or hesitation, and without a 
 word of protest or of explanation, Brand stepped 
 to the wicket; turning, he gave a searching look 
 into Carissa's eyes, and in another moment was 
 gone. 
 
 Left to themselves, Gordon experienced a feel- 
 ing of relief, but he immediately faced his niece and 
 demanded: 
 
 "Carissa, what does this mean? What has happened 
 to you? I have been blind, indeed, not to notice your 
 infatuation for this smooth-tongued adventurer." 
 
 "You are unjust and cruel," she exclaimed, indig- 
 nantly. Her voice was tremulous, but a spirit of out- 
 raged womanly dignity looked from her eyes. "He is 
 a true man, and you have insulted him. He was your 
 guest, and asked to speak to you, and you have driven 
 him unheard, from your doors." 
 
 "You are acting ridiculously, child," he exclaimed, 
 
 exasperated anew by her absurd attitude and foolish 
 
 defense. "You do not know him except as a man 
 
 that gets into difficulties. What devil influenced me 
 
 ever to have anything to do with him, — to open my 
 
 house to him!" 
 
 88 
 
CARISSA ACTS OX HER CONVICTIONS 
 
 He turned away from her, and began pacing the 
 garden walk. 
 
 She watched him in painful suspense. She wanted 
 to appeal to him, but he gave her no opportunity. 
 She wanted to make him understand that her life's 
 happiness was involved. There was no wavering in 
 her purpose. All that had gone before had simply 
 intensified her feeling of love and loyalty; but she felt 
 that she could not leave him in anger. Finally, she 
 could endure it no longer. 
 
 "Uncle, uncle, why are you so cruel and unjust?' 
 she cried piteously. "You have never been like this 
 before! Why will you not see him as he is?" 
 
 He stopped abruptly, and looked upon her sternly, 
 as he said: "Carissa, how far has this foolishness 
 gone? Tell me plainly! What was the meaning of 
 your agitation last night, and of the scene I have 
 witnessed this morning?" 
 
 She remembered the words that Brand had spoken 
 to her, and the meaning look he gave her as he left 
 the garden. The recollection steadied her and gave 
 her strength. 
 
 "I love him, uncle," she said, meeting his gaze 
 bravely, "and — I have promised to be his wife." 
 
 She thought for a moment that he would strike her. 
 She had never dreamed that his face could express 
 such a passion of contempt and anger. 
 
 "Child, go to your room!" he said, with concen- 
 trated scorn and bitterness. "We are well rid of this 
 man, who has known how to use his opportunities so 
 
 well." 
 
 "Won't you listen to me. Uncle Arthur?" she 
 pleaded. "Believe me I am not ungrateful. I have 
 
 89 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 always loved you. I have always obeyed you. For- 
 give me if I have done wrong. But surely every 
 woman must make her choice some day, and I have 
 chosen. I do not know how it has come about, and 
 it breaks my heart that you are so terribly angered. 
 Will you not forgive me?" 
 
 He was shocked at the white look on her face, and 
 was not unmoved by her plea. He stood for a while 
 as though stunned, while sorrow and incredulity strug- 
 gled with the feeling of anger in his heart, and then he 
 motioned her away from him. 
 
 "Leave me and go to your room! You do not know 
 what you say or do! I will never believe that you — 
 with the blood of the Gordons in your veins, whom 
 I have watched from girlhood — would cast yourself at 
 the feet of a vagrant street preacher." 
 
 She attempted another remonstrance, but he refused 
 to listen, and she finally made her way with a feeling 
 of hopelessness to her room. She did not stop to con- 
 sider what she should do. The step that she was about 
 to take seemed terrible to her. But this place where 
 she had spent so many care-free days was no longer 
 home to her. Though blinded by the tears that would 
 fall, she began gathering together a few of her special 
 treasures, praying God to forgive her if she were doing 
 wrong in obeying the imperative impulses of her heart, 
 and asking Him to guide her in the future to which 
 she was blindly committing herself. 
 
 The squire followed Carissa into the house, and 
 rang the bell for the maid. 
 
 "Mr. Brand has gone back to Clifford's," he said. 
 "Have John collect his things together and take them 
 to him " 
 
 90 
 
CARISSA ACTS ON HER CONVICTIONS 
 
 He looked at the untasted breakfast dishes. "You 
 may clear the table," he said. "Miss Graham is not 
 well this morning, and I am going over to breakfast 
 with Mr. Busby." 
 
 He related nothing of the occurrences of the morn- 
 ing to his old friend, save the fact of Brand's departure. 
 
 "You are well rid of him," commented Busby, 
 shortly. "How is Carissa?" 
 
 "She is not feeling very well," said Gordon, and 
 then after a pause, announced energetically, "I am 
 more determined than ever to end her life of seclusion. 
 She must see more of the social life of this neighbor- 
 hood, and I am going to open up the old house now 
 for a round of festivities." 
 
 This time Busby made no objection, though he won- 
 dered, grumblingly, at the singular perversity of 
 human nature. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Gordon 
 returned to his home. He experienced a little dread 
 at the thought of meeting Carissa. He was afraid he 
 had shown too much feeling and been a trifle too 
 imperative during the scene of the morning. He was dis- 
 appointed, however, not to find her in the lower rooms. 
 
 "I wonder if she has been all day in her room," he 
 thought, and blamed himself anew for his harshness. 
 
 He rang the bell. 
 
 "Tell Miss Graham that I wish her to come down 
 into the library, please." 
 
 Presently, the maid returned, breathless, with 
 strange tidings. 
 
 "Please, sir, mistress Is not there. The pictures of 
 her father and mother are gone, and her room is in 
 disorder!" 
 
 91 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "What's that?" exclaimed Gordon. 
 
 "She went out this morning, — just after you left," 
 she continued, in explanation. "I thought it strange, 
 because she hadn't had any breakfast, and she — O, sir, 
 I hope nothing has happened!" 
 
 Gordon waited to hear no more. He hurried 
 from the room and climbed the stairs; with feverish 
 haste he opened the door, the room looked strangely 
 disordered for one so orderly as was Carissa. He 
 turned to the corner where had hung the portraits of 
 her father and mother; they were indeed gone. The 
 reality of it all burst upon him — he dropped into the 
 chair by the window, buried his face in his hands, and 
 groaned aloud. 
 
 In the meanwhile Brand and his future wife were 
 well on their way to London. It was not hard for him 
 to quiet her scruples or to soothe her sorrow. He had 
 won a complete mastery over her mind, and led her 
 skilfully to look forward to the new life that was 
 before them, which he painted in glowing colors, and 
 with that mingling of passionate tenderness and relig- 
 ious fervor which seemed to belong to his nature. 
 
 A few weeks later, on the eve of their departure for 
 America, Carissa wrote to her uncle, announcing her 
 marriage, telling of her perfect happiness, begging his 
 forgiveness, and enclosing many loving messages to 
 the friends of her girlhood; but she never knew how it 
 was received, for Mr. Gordon after reading it through 
 his tears, put it away in the old family Bible among 
 the records of births, marriages and deaths, and never 
 replied to it or opened his lips on the subject till the 
 day of his death. 
 
 92 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 AMBITIOUS PROJECTS 
 
 Eaton Brand felt that his success in winning Carissa 
 as his wife formed a fitting climax to his four years of 
 missionary effort in England, and he was exultant. 
 She suited him perfectly, he thought. 
 
 The long dreamy days on shipboard brought a 
 sense of never-ending delight. Her gentle earnest- 
 ness, sincerity and never-failing sympathy— her trust 
 in him, her eagerness to learn, her enthusiasm and 
 hope for the future all made their appeal to him. 
 He was aware that he had never portrayed more elo- 
 quently the sorrows and struggles of his people, and 
 that he had never so thoroughly idealized their aims 
 and projects as at this time when he felt the sweet 
 compulsion of her perfect confidence and answered the 
 loving expectation of her glowing face. 
 
 Brand was a skilled missionary. He was not an 
 educated man, in the commonly accepted meaning of 
 the term, but he had received a remarkably effective 
 training. Since the expulsion from Nauvoo, in 1S46, 
 he had not been in personal touch with the mass of his 
 people. But he was strong in the faith— hard fighting 
 in its behalf had made him strong. 
 
 The Mormon priesthood is wise enough to realize 
 that actual service is the best theological training. 
 The young men of Mormonism become most firmly 
 attached to the cause by being pushed out early to do 
 
 93 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 battle for it in the face of opposition, and their 
 resources are developed by forcing them to trust to 
 themselves. 
 
 Eaton Brand had traveled for years "without purse or 
 scrip." In obedience to the rules of the church he 
 was obliged to win his way to the homes of the people 
 for food and shelter, and his powers of diplomacy had 
 been trained by necessity. 
 
 If challenged, he never denied that he was a Mor- 
 mon, but he never announced the fact rashly. He 
 preferred to be known as an Elder of the Church of 
 Jesus Christ, and made much of the fact that he was 
 not a "hireling preacher." On his first visit he 
 would ask the names of the churches of the community, 
 and when the list was complete would express his sur- 
 prise that none bore the name of Christ Himself. 
 
 "Yet why should they be called by His name?" he 
 would ask in vigorous attack. 
 
 "They do not administer His ordinances, nor exhibit 
 the gifts of the Spirit, nor claim the same officers as 
 did the true church of Christ!" 
 
 With this for a foundation, he would urge the claims 
 of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, 
 and through long experience he had become singularly 
 adroit and successful. 
 
 With a proposition that must be defended at all 
 hazards and against all comers, it becomes necessary 
 to gather together an array of facts, arguments and 
 illustrations that shall be able to stand the test of criti- 
 cism. By this process he had become an able defender 
 of the peculiar doctrines of his people. 
 
 He read church history for facts that w^ould prove 
 the apostasy of Christendom, and the Bible for pas- 
 
 9^ 
 
AMBITIOUS PROJECTS 
 
 sages that would lend support to the peculiarities of 
 his system. He studied church periodicals and the 
 published works of Mormon church-writers, and sifted 
 them with great judgment for points that would have 
 weight in a controversy. 
 
 It was a cardinal principle with him, as with all 
 other missionaries of his faith, never to introduce the 
 "further mysteries," peculiarly characteristic of the 
 revelations of Joseph Smith, until a secure foundation 
 had been laid in unquestioning faith in "first prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 With all this, his great personal magnetism, his nat- 
 ural eloquence and the sternness with which he could 
 repel accusations against his people made him a valu- 
 able man to the cause. 
 
 He was thoroughly respected by his fellow-workers, 
 but had been thrown into slight contact with them, 
 and had become what he was, more by friction with 
 those opposed to him than by fellowship with those 
 holding similar views. 
 
 There had been no friction in his intercourse with 
 Carissa. Her readiness to hear him, and her eagerness 
 to believe, had confirmed the impression made by her 
 beauty and had satisfied him. 
 
 On their arrival in New York, Brand's first duty was 
 to report to the church headquarters. The elder in 
 charge was somewhat past middle-age, clean-shaven, 
 thin-lipped, strong-featured. He had united with the 
 church through the influence of Brigham Young. 
 
 Brand had never seen him, but had heard him 
 spoken of as one of the rising men; unlike the majority 
 of his associates, he made no pretensions to oratorical 
 ability. His style was sharp and cutting. He was a 
 
 95 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 keen observer of human nature, and seldom made a 
 mistake in assigning a man to his particular task. 
 
 Elder Willard greeted Mr. Brand cordially, and 
 congratulated him on the success of his mission. 
 
 "Your report is very good," he said with an approv- 
 ing look at Brand. "You've done well over there, but 
 I'm glad you are to work on this side for a while." 
 
 "I am always at the service of the church," Brand 
 responded. "I have never sought to evade responsi- 
 bility, or to shirk duty. But I hope to start for the 
 west in the spring." 
 
 Willard seemed to be considering the matter a 
 moment, then asked rather abruptly: 
 
 "You've married recently, haven't you, and brought 
 your wife over with you?" 
 
 "Yes; and I want her to be 'sealed' to me as soon as 
 possible," Brand answered, thinking of the endow- 
 ment ceremonies at Salt Lake City. 
 
 "True," assented Elder Willard, while a faint smile 
 flitted across his thin lips. "Who is she if I may ask?" 
 
 "She is the daughter of an English clergyman who 
 served for a number of years as chaplain in the army. 
 Her father and mother are both dead." 
 
 "Is she educated?" 
 
 "Yes, and she has read a great deal, and is alert 
 and enthusiastic." 
 
 "How long have you known her?" 
 
 "Only a few weeks." 
 
 "Was she alone and unprotected?" 
 
 "No." Brand was irritated, but he controlled him- 
 self, and continued: 
 
 "She was under the guardianship of a well-to do 
 English gentleman, her mother's brother. Her home 
 
 96 
 
AMBITIOUS PROJECTS 
 
 was in Cornwall, and her uncle is a man of great influ- 
 ence in the county." 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Elder Willard in deliberate sur- 
 prise, and regarding Brand fixedly. "It will be a 
 change for her. I hope you'll not find her difficult." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Brand, indignantly. 
 
 "My dear brother, I am not prompted by any desire 
 to intrude, or to give you annoyance. You doubtless 
 understand her nature better than I do. But you have 
 never been to Salt Lake, have you?" 
 
 "I've been on a mission for seven years, four of 
 them in England." 
 
 "You must have been very young when you were 
 first commissioned?" 
 
 "I was just sixteen," Brand answered. 
 
 "Brother Brand," Elder Willard began smoothly, 
 "aside from other considerations, it will be well for 
 you to remain for a time in the east, on account of 
 your wife. You know there are few women of her 
 class that have joined the emigration. The conditions 
 out there aren't perfect yet. You'd find interest 
 enough and could adjust yourself to the demands of a 
 rough, pioneer life. Of course, there are good women 
 there, too, but they've got used to it, and their faith is 
 sound enough. How about your wife? Do you think 
 she'd fit the life right away?" 
 
 Brand was silent. There was force in the sugges- 
 tion. A dim recollection of turbulent scenes in the 
 life at old Nauvoo came to him. He thought of those 
 who had been converted under his ministry. There 
 was something chilling in Willard's cold smile and 
 quiet words. But he thought of Carissa's enthusiasm, 
 and adaptability and he finally said a little defiantly: 
 
 97 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "She is a very sincere believer." 
 
 "I don't question it," Elder Willard replied, with a 
 peculiar accent. "But what does she knowr' 
 
 As he asked this question, he leaned forward and 
 looked meaningly at Brand who flushed slightly, but 
 made no reply. 
 
 "I surmised as much," Willard continued dryly. 
 "It could not well be otherwise." 
 
 He turned to his desk as though dismissing the sub- 
 ject and extracted an official looking document, which 
 he handed to Brand. 
 
 "You may read it if you like. It contains the 
 instructions of the First Presidency — you'll see that 
 you are assigned to work here." 
 
 Brand read the order, and laid it down upon the 
 table without comment. He was still thinking of 
 Carissa, and of the fact that she would share his disap- 
 pointment. He was also more troubled than he was 
 willing to admit by the view that had been so uncer- 
 emoniously opened to him. 
 
 "I think you will find the work that is before us this 
 winter sufficiently interesting," Elder Willard sug- 
 gested dryly. 
 
 "That is not it," remonstrated Brand, smarting 
 under the implied reproach. 
 
 "My dear brother," Elder Willard interrupted, "I 
 understand your feelings, and they are quite natural, 
 but ours is a work that requires all manner of sacri- 
 fices. I will not ask you if you think it is worth it. 
 Your record speaks for itself. During the past you 
 have been in touch with one phase of the work, while 
 we have had other problems to deal with." For a 
 moment he seemed to be lost in retrospection, while 
 
 98 
 
AMBITIOUS PROJECTS 
 
 his face gathered an expression of stern resolve. 
 "Many forces have been engaged. Sometimes they 
 have seemed to be in conflict. But— what is the re- 
 sult? Working together, we have been gathering the 
 materials and laying the foundations of a kingdom 
 that will soon startle the world by its virility and 
 strength, as well as by its power to enforce its claims." 
 The last words were spoken with a sudden, startling 
 accession of energy; the speaker seemed himself to 
 realize it, and that he had been moved unduly, for he 
 deliberately moderated his tone and resumed with an 
 assumption of coolness: 
 
 "This is not new to you; it has been the theme of 
 your preaching. The gathering of the Saints means 
 the organization of the kingdom of God, religiously 
 and politically; that kingdom is now actually organ- 
 ized, though the inhabitants of the earth do not know 
 it. It is organized to take effect in the due time of 
 the Lord and in the manner that shall please Him. 
 We belong to the holy priesthood; and the priesthood 
 is the only legitimate government of God whether in 
 the heavens or on earth. This, too, you have believed 
 whether you have been commissioned to proclaim it 
 openly or not." 
 
 He looked at Brand, as though challenging his 
 ambition. 
 
 "Brother Brand, do you see our position?" 
 
 He stepped quickly to where a large map of the 
 United States was tacked upon the opposite wall, and 
 placed the point of his pencil upon a flaming red cross 
 far to the westward. 
 
 "This is the promised land. Here is Zion, the new 
 Jerusalem ; yonder is the Sea of Galilee ; this is the River 
 
 99 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Jordan, flowing into the great Dead Sea of salt; 
 around about are the everlasting hills, a rocky wall of 
 protection from all our foes. Here is where we shall 
 become a great nation, the last of all the mighty 
 nations and the greatest, for from Zion shall go forth 
 the decrees of the Lord Almighty to all nations, 
 tongues and kindred in these last days." 
 
 He returned to his seat. Brand was thrilled with 
 the unquestioned earnestness that pervaded the quietly 
 spoken wordso They expressed the thought that had 
 been dominant with him for many years. 
 
 "True," he said, solenanly. "For so the Lord has 
 spoken." 
 
 "Brother Brand, the work must be hastened. There 
 are thousands of believers scattered through the 
 eastern and southern states. The duty of gathering 
 themselves to the Lord's appointed place must be 
 preached with greater diligence. We have a vast 
 country that must be occupied." He rose and stood 
 again by the map. 
 
 "See, it extends from the Rocky Mountains to the 
 sea. Our settlements are pushing southward along 
 the Jordan Valley and to the west. The colony here 
 at San Bernardino is growing wonderfully and is 
 already beginning to swarm. But this entire domain 
 must be occupied in the name of the Lord of Hosts. 
 It must be done quickly. Shall the will of the Lord 
 be thwarted through our sluggishness?" 
 
 Brand noticed a spot of red growing on his right 
 cheek, his words betrayed a certain air of excitement. 
 
 "This land is ours. But the federal government 
 claims it, by right of treaty with Mexico. The dis- 
 covery of gold in California has attracted a vast num- 
 
 100 
 
AMBITIOUS PROJ EC T'S 
 
 ber of adventurers who will dispute our title; also 
 emigration has begun on the part of the Gentiles, and, 
 if we would hold our own, the people must gather, and 
 gather quickly." 
 
 "But is not Congress being petitioned to recognize the 
 right and authority of the State of Deseret?" Brand 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Yes; but it's useless. They have already denied 
 our petition, and federal officers are being appointed 
 to rule over us. True, President Young is recognized 
 as governor, but they will seek to remove him on the 
 first pretext; the jurisdiction of our courts is refused 
 recognition at Washington; and corrupt men from 
 Washington are being sent out to stir up strife and to 
 spy out our doings." 
 
 Much of this was news to Brand, and he sat in 
 silence reviewing the situation. 
 
 "But, thank God, our people can be trusted," Elder 
 Willard continued. "The President of the United 
 States and Congress will yet find out that the crook of 
 Brother Brigham's little finger is more powerful with 
 the people than federal enactments, the decisions of 
 courts of justice, or than the threatenings of military 
 force." 
 
 "But the government at Washington is not contem- 
 plating armed interference!" exclaimed Brand, 
 aghast at the suggestion. 
 
 "The pretense is the safety of travelers and the pro- 
 tection of property," Willard replied bitterly. "It's 
 all a pretense, of course. But our enemies have never 
 forgotten their vindictive hatred of our people. Have 
 you forgotten? Have we not, from the beginning, 
 been subject to every violence and outrage? Were 
 
 101 
 
•BY' ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 we not driven from Ohio, Missouri, and Illinois? 
 Was not our prophet, Joseph, compelled to fight his 
 enemies during the whole course of his life, until he 
 was finally martyred through their hellish malignity? 
 Were we not driven from our peaceful homes at the 
 point of the bayonet and compelled to seek our for- 
 tunes in the great wilderness lying to the westward? 
 Was not your own father murdered in defense of the 
 temple city, Nauvoo? Do not forget that this nation 
 has not experienced a change of heart toward the 
 Saints of God." 
 
 Brand was thoroughly aroused. He realized that 
 there was a sterner battle before them than any they 
 had yet waged. He reached forward and took Elder 
 Willard by the hand. 
 
 "The commands of the church were sufficient, but 
 now my heart is with you, and I stay gladly." 
 
 "Thank you," replied Willard. "I have not doubted 
 you. Your loyalty is well known. But now there is 
 another thing. I have never been quite in harmony 
 with the policy of evasions and denials that has been 
 followed all these years." 
 
 Brand flushed a little, but returned his look steadily. 
 
 "We have declared to the world our faith in the 
 prophet Joseph," Willard continued. "We have 
 announced that he was commissioned to uncover some 
 startling truths. We have not preached these truths 
 openly. We have reserved them to be cautiously 
 unfolded to our converts, only after they have become 
 thoroughly established and committed. The plan has 
 worked well in the past, I admit, but I believe the time 
 is ripe for the adoption of a bolder policy. Advices 
 from Salt Lake indicate that President Young is coming 
 
 102 
 
AMBITIOUS PROJECTS 
 
 to the same opinion. 'My impression is that we will soon 
 be ordered to make known the whole counsel of God." 
 
 Brand was considerably startled. He thought back 
 over his past missionary experiences. A flashing 
 picture of Carissa came before him. His instincts and 
 acquired habits of thought forced a remonstrance. 
 
 "But will not such a course rob us of all chance of 
 gaining a hearing? And will not the abrupt change in 
 policy cause many who are not fully grounded, to turn 
 back again?" 
 
 "It will probably be a year or more before the 
 change is inaugurated," Elder Willard replied. "But 
 it must come soon." 
 
 There was a quiet smile of sarcasm upon his lips 
 that Brand could not immediately interpret. As he 
 sought to force his understanding, there came to his 
 mind certain esoteric teachings of the great prophet 
 that had been whispered about in old Xauvoo, and 
 certain arguments b}' which these teachings had been 
 reinforced. He recalled that these teachings had been 
 the basis of repeated charges against the prophet 
 Joseph's character. So fierce had been the storm of 
 opposition aroused, that the missionaries had been 
 instructed to give them emphatic denial. Surely these 
 were not the things that were to be given out! It was 
 incredible, that, after all these years, the veil of 
 secrecy and denial was to be removed concerning t/iis 
 matter that would create such unfailing prejudice 
 everj^vhere. He again thought of Carissa, and by an 
 effort of will dismissed the sinister suggestion. He 
 had been in the habit of closing his eyes to certain 
 things in the conduct of the leaders of his people and 
 this habit helped him. 
 
 103 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Elder Willard had been studying him closely during 
 this brief mental debate, and now spoke with an air of 
 carelessness. 
 
 "You say that some who have been won under the 
 old preaching may turn back. If true, it is simply an 
 additional reason for hastening the gathering to a place 
 where they can assimilate the doctrines of the church 
 more quickly. When they have once crossed the 
 mountains, they will not turn back." 
 
 Again that smile of quiet amusement came upon his 
 thin lips, but passed as quickly. 
 
 "After all," he continued, "I think you are mis- 
 taken in your fears of a general apostasy. Those who 
 have been won thus far are not from among those who 
 will make nice distinctions in points of theology. They 
 will take the Bible as it is expounded to them, and 
 will turn to the Book of Mormon and the Doctrines 
 and Covenants for further enlightenment." 
 
 Brand smiled appreciatively. 
 
 "That is probably true as far as the majority is con- 
 cerned," he said, "but are we now to change the char- 
 acter of our preaching?" 
 
 "No, not yet! I have no instructions. But you 
 must set forth with all your power the divine authority 
 of the prophet Joseph and of the holy priesthood, for 
 a foundation for what is coming; urge also the imme- 
 diate gathering to Zion of all those who would escape 
 the curse that is about to be hurled upon a rebellious 
 and disbelieving world. The fight is on, Brother 
 Brand, and we must be ready. Great things are being 
 done yonder in Zion, and the hearts of all men will soon 
 warn them of the impending judgments of the Lord." 
 
 "I shall be ready." Brand answered firmly. 
 
 104 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 The home of the Brands, in New York, was originally 
 a farm of considerable extent, surrounding a large, 
 substantial but unpretentious stone house looking 
 toward the Hudson. It had been encroached upon, 
 however, by the growth of the city, until, in 1852, it 
 looked strangely out of place, with its aspect of staid, 
 old-fashioned respectability and seclusion, in the 
 midst of the modern dwellings and business houses 
 that were rapidly hemming it in on every side. The 
 original acres of field and fruit orchard had disap- 
 peared, even during the lifetime of old Charlton 
 Brand, Eaton's father. Now the old house stood as a 
 bit of anachronism on a narrow back street, while the 
 space to the north and south, as well as between it and 
 the river, was filled with evidence of the throbbing life 
 of a city, that already was taking its place as one of 
 the great commercial and distributing centers of the 
 world. 
 
 To this house, still quaintly old-fashioned in its 
 interior arrangements and furnishings, Eaton Brand 
 brought his wife. Carissa received what she afterward 
 learned was a characteristic greeting from Mr. Brand's 
 mother, affectionate but impersonal, warm but devoid 
 of fuss or curiosity. 
 
 "You are welcome, dearie. You must be tired. We 
 have expected you, and are glad you have come." 
 
 105 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Her arrival made no change in domestic arrange- 
 ments. She was evidently expected to fill the cozy 
 nook that had long been prepared for her in this quiet 
 home. She had a curious feeling that if she had come 
 several years earlier or later, or if she had been an 
 entirely different person, it would have made no 
 difference. 
 
 Old ]\Irs. Brand was quiet, uninterested in anything 
 outside her home, but possessed the rare touch of a 
 genuine housekeeper, that imparted a delightful air of 
 snug homeliness to her surroundings. 
 
 Carissa was charmed, although she had an indefi- 
 nable sense of self-effacement. She found that she 
 had no duties to perform, and that the long hours of 
 the day were at her free disposal. 
 
 "You must be happy here," Brand said to her, ten- 
 derly. "This will be our home for a few months. I 
 may be absent part of the time, but it will be a delight 
 to think of coming back to you." 
 
 She tried to conceal the disappointment that she 
 felt because they were not going west at once. 
 
 "Will it be long?" she asked, wistfully. "And what 
 am I to do, dear, while you are away? You will not 
 want me to be idle." 
 
 He smiled upon her indulgently. "And so you must 
 do your share! Is that it? But are you quite ready, 
 dearest? You must play the part of pupil a little 
 longer, I think. Do you quite realize that these peo- 
 ple would look at you coldly? Ply you with hard 
 questions? Even assail you with abuse? No, dearest, 
 I cannot run the risk for you." 
 
 "Very well, darling; you know best," she said, with 
 a brave smile. But her spirit was touched with sad- 
 
 106 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 ness. Somehow, her instinct told her that her spiritual 
 health ran along lines of activity. 
 
 One day she received a caller, a trim little woman 
 with a round, resolute face, dark eyes and an air of 
 quiet decision. 
 
 "I am the wife of the Methodist minister, Mr. 
 Allen. Our church is just around the corner. We 
 heard of your arrival, and I called to invite you to our 
 services." 
 
 "It is very good of you," Carissa replied, hesitat- 
 ingly, "and I am sure you mean your invitation kindly, 
 but my husband is an Elder of the Church of Jesus 
 Christ, and I " 
 
 "Are you really Mormons, then?" interrupted her 
 visitor, with a look of pitying surprise. "The rumor 
 has gone all over the neighborhood, but I didn't 
 believe it. Last night Mr. Allen and I walked past, 
 and when I saw you under the trees, I said that it 
 couldn't be true." 
 
 Carissa flushed. 
 
 "Why should it not be true?" she answered, with a 
 certain reserve. 
 
 "Why? You don't look like a Mormon. Nor does 
 your husband, and I can't believe it yet." 
 
 "We are called Mormons," began Carissa. "But " 
 
 "Well, I never!" exclaimed Mrs. Allen, and looked 
 as though she were wondering how she could close the 
 interview. "Of course if I had believed it " 
 
 "You would not have called?" said Carissa, quietly. 
 "I am sorry. Sorry for you." 
 
 "Why is it that we Mormons meet with such hatred 
 and persecution? My husband is now on a preaching 
 tour in a so-called Christian community, and I do not 
 
 107 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 know whether he is being mobbed or not, or whether 
 he will return to me bearing the marks of violence. 
 Is not the spirit of Christ lacking where such things 
 can be?" 
 
 There was a ring of sincerity in her speech that won 
 her visitor's heart. Mrs. Allen impulsively stepped 
 forward and extended her hand. 
 
 "My dear, I'm sure you are a good woman, no mat- 
 ter what they say about your people. I don't like to 
 have your doctrines preached, because I believe them 
 harmful, but I don't believe in persecution, and I do 
 believe in Christian charity. Can I come and see you 
 sometimes?" 
 
 Carissa was finding this woman's gentleness harder 
 to face than opposition would have been. She felt 
 how imperfectly she was equipped for missionary 
 effort. Suddenly she remembered: 
 
 "I wish you would come," she answered, frankly. 
 "But bring your husband, and come when Mr. Brand 
 is at home. I think you do not understand us, and I 
 want him to explain." 
 
 Mrs. Allen hesitated a moment, but the invitation of 
 Carissa's confident face was irresistible, her curiosity 
 was aroused, and she finally broke into a little laugh. 
 
 "Yes, we will come. But will you not be afraid 
 when two men get into controversy on a religious 
 topic?" 
 
 "Oh, no," replied Carissa, quite seriously. 
 "Besides, we women shall be there, ready with the 
 oil of charity for troubled waters." 
 
 "You, dear, sweet young thing. You are no more 
 meant for a missionary than for a kangaroo. Yes, 
 we'll come. Good-day." And Mrs. Allen trotted 
 
 108 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 out of the room, while Carissa did not know whether 
 to laugh or cry. 
 
 When Brand returned she told him of the visit. 
 
 "So }'ou are inviting conflict, are you?" he said, 
 playfully. "But such a meeting can have no good 
 result. Our bitterest opponents are the clergy. They 
 are dependent for their living on pushing their own 
 churches, and are very jealous of the inroads we make 
 upon their flocks." 
 
 "But ]\Irs. Allen will understand," interrupted 
 Carissa. "She seems so good and kind and gentle. 
 She said that she did not believe in persecution. Per- 
 haps she has never had the truth explained to her." 
 
 "If they come, dearest, believe me I will not avoid 
 the issue. But do not expect too much. It is sel- 
 dom that a sectarian minister has a mind at all hos- 
 pitable to the truth." 
 
 It was several evenings later when I\Ir. and Mrs. 
 Allen called. As the two gentlemen shook hands, 
 Mr. Allen laughingly remarked: 
 
 "It seems that these ladies have arranged for a con- 
 troversy, but really, sir, I do not come seeking one. 
 I am but slightly familiar with your beliefs, and the 
 checkered history of your people. I come only 
 because my wife has insisted. I will confess to strong 
 prejudices, and I am not sure that anything you might 
 say will remove them." 
 
 "Your statement is certainly a frank one," said 
 Brand. He was studying his visitor carefully, and 
 felt that the only result to be aimed at was to come off 
 victor in the eyes of Carissa. 
 
 "I seldom attempt to remove deep-seated prejudice. 
 I haven't the time," he added calmly. 
 
 109 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "But, Mr. Brand," said Mrs. Allen, "we want to 
 hear a statement of what you preach. There are so 
 many rumors, you know." 
 
 "I do not think you will be startled," he said, smil- 
 ing, "and it pleases me that you do not seek the 
 information from our enemies. We preach faith, 
 repentance, baptism by immersion for the remission of 
 sins, the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy 
 Ghost, and obedience to all the ordinances of the 
 Gospel." 
 
 "That certainly sounds very harmless," remarked 
 Mr. Allen, dryly. "You speak of faith, but what 
 must a man believe, according to your doctrine?" 
 
 "All of divine truth that has been revealed, all that 
 is being revealed, and all that shall yet be revealed," 
 quoted Mr. Brand, sententiously. 
 
 "Your answer allows considerable latitude for indi- 
 vidual judgment, Mr. Brand, and I understand that 
 your definition of the 'ordinances of the gospel' 
 includes some very strange observances, utterly 
 unknown to the Christian world. For example, do 
 you not believe in a new Bible, called the Book of 
 Mormon, and in certain revelations claimed to be 
 received by Joseph Smith, that contradict the teach- 
 ings of the New Testament?" 
 
 "We claim, sir, that the ancient scriptures of the 
 Nephites and the revelations received by Joseph the 
 Seer do not contradict the Bible, but only serve to 
 clarify its teachings and consequently to increase its 
 authority." 
 
 "In what respect?" queried his visitor, lifting his 
 eyebrows. 
 
 "In the matter of administering the ordinances of 
 
 110 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 God, with reference also to the constitution of the 
 church and the authority of the holy priesthood and 
 many other things that pertain to life and salvation." 
 
 "That subject would form matter for endless con- 
 troversy, I fear, Mr. Brand," commented his visitor. 
 "But, pardon the personal allusion, you are a man of 
 ability and education, and your wife is a woman of 
 intelligence and refinement; it seems strange that you 
 should believe in such an absurd thing as this pre- 
 tended new revelation and should be the followers of 
 a fanatical impostor." 
 
 Mr. Allen was somewhat heated, and spoke impul- 
 sively. Carissa flushed angrily, and turned her eyes 
 to her husband. 
 
 "So might a Jew have spoken to a Christian in the 
 days of Paul," he answered, readily. 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "The Jew continued to revere the law of Jehovah 
 when it had become a mere letter. He cherished the 
 traditions of Abraham, Moses, Elijah and the 
 prophets, though he had modified them to suit the 
 conditions of his day; he was convicted of apostasy 
 and required to accept a new revelation of truth. In 
 retaliation he charged the Christians with being fol- 
 lowers of a fanatical impostor, and persecuted them 
 with religious zeal." 
 
 "I am afraid, sir, that the parallel cannot be estab- 
 lished." 
 
 "Let us see. Look at the picture of the Jewish 
 community of that time, and see how perfectly it fits 
 the Christian community of to-day. 
 
 "The ancient glory of the Hebrew people had 
 departed, the voice of revelation was silent, the 
 
 111 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 prophets had ceased to prophesy, the power to per- 
 form miracles had been taken away, God had with- 
 drawn Himself from the church, and religious forms 
 were no longer vitalized by the presence of the super- 
 natural. There were still many rabbis, profoundly 
 learned, who enunciated well-worn dogmas, adorning 
 them with all that was lofty in thought, sublime in 
 language, and fascinating in imagination; they pos- 
 sessed beautiful synagogues and elaborate forms of 
 worship; they practiced extensive charities, published 
 commentaries and renderings and interpretations, 
 some fanciful and frivolous, some profound and erudite; 
 but they were broken by sectarian strife; and because 
 the spirit of God had departed, and they were depend- 
 ent upon human leadership, they knew not where to 
 turn to find the true way. You are familiar with the 
 seven sects of the Pharisees, three or four of Essenes, 
 Sadducees, and others too numerous to mention; and 
 this is but a feeble picture of the Christianity of 
 to-day, a hundredfold more sectarian and jarring than 
 were the Jews at the time of our Lord." 
 
 Mr. Allen was unprepared to refute this historic 
 parallel. He contented himself with saying, cour- 
 teously: 
 
 "I grant you that the church of Christ is divided 
 into many denominations, but in each the vital truth 
 of Christianity still resides." 
 
 'The vital truth of God has been and ever will be 
 this: that an open channel of communication exists 
 between Him and His church on earth," Brand asserted. 
 "When that is closed, old revelations become ante- 
 dated, obscured and perverted. For seventeen cen- 
 turies men have been trusting to their own devices; the 
 
 112 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 Gospel of Christ submitted to receive a veneer of 
 paganism, and was lost to men in the process." 
 
 "But the church has had its reformers who tore off 
 this veneer," protested Mr. Allen. 
 
 "Yes, like the reformers of the Hebrew people, but 
 there has soon been substitution of some new man- 
 made contrivance. Without the open vision of God 
 the church cannot be trusted to guard its own treasure. 
 He whom you contemptuously style a fanatical 
 impostor, had this open vision. He received constant 
 revelation of the divine will, and by it guided the 
 newly established church." 
 
 "But people affirm that Joseph Smith was of unbal- 
 anced mind, unscrupulous, clever and daring, but evil 
 in his character and life." 
 
 "Pious men who prayed often and fasted frequently 
 affirmed that Jesus and His followers were foul im- 
 postors, vile Sabbath breakers, gluttons, wine-bibbers, 
 treasonable persons not fit to live. Do you judge 
 Jesus by the testimony of His enemies? No, you judge 
 His character and His works by the testimony of 
 friends. Pursue the same judgment toward Joseph 
 Smith, and the issue is triumph." 
 
 "You speak well, Mr. Brand, but let me ask you, — 
 did your prophet teach the doctrine of the plurality 
 of wives? Do your people secretly practice polygamy? 
 It has been so charged by public men who claim to 
 know, and who have reiterated the charge again and 
 again." 
 
 Brand hesitated, as if in weariness at the repeated 
 necessity of repelling false and malicious accusations. 
 He rose from his seat. Carissa watched him with 
 love, while admiration and confidence beamed froni 
 
 113 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 her eyes. She had heard him reply to this charge 
 before. 
 
 He turned to the table on which lay the Book of 
 Doctrines and Covenants. 
 
 "It is true that we have been accused of actions the 
 most indelicate and disgusting," he said. "I have 
 not the patience to deny them. Here is a work pub- 
 lished by us and containing our articles of faith." 
 
 He turned to a certain page and handed the open 
 book to his visitor, who took it and read aloud: 
 
 " 'Inasmuch as this church of Christ has been 
 reproached with the crime of fornication and polyg- 
 amy, we declare that we believe, that one man 
 should have 07ie wife, and one woman but one hus- 
 band, except in case of death, when either is at lib- 
 erty to marry again.' 
 
 'That seems clear enough," said ]\Ir. Allen, after 
 reading the dubious words, and not observing their 
 ambiguous meaning. "But how comes it that the charge 
 is made so often? Until Joseph Smith began to gather 
 his people about him, and form settlements, and 
 develop his own peculiar ideas of social life, the word 
 'polygamy' was as little used as the word 'poly- 
 andry,' but now it is in everyone's mouth in connec- 
 tion with the 'Latter Day Saints,' as you are called." 
 
 "It is a long stor}^ sir," answered Mr. Brand, 
 promptly, with considerable stiffness in his manner. 
 "And it is a story not very creditable to our oppo- 
 nents. When we defeat them in argument, their 
 malice resorts to slander; they build up on every idle, 
 whispered word of malcontents and perjured apostates. 
 They have driven us from city to city, and now that 
 we have found a secure resting place on the tops of the 
 
 114 
 
p I R S T P RINCIPLES 
 
 mountains, they seek to poison the minds of those 
 whom we would reach, by circulating the vilest calum- 
 nies concerning us. But it shall not be for long,^ he 
 concluded, with startling emphasis. "The time is at 
 hand when God shall open the vials of wrath against 
 these Iving deceivers, and when the truth that has 
 been committed to us shall shine forth gloriously.'' 
 
 Mr. Allen was silenced completely by this bold 
 denial, but, as they took their departure a little later 
 he said to his wife: "That man is dangerous because of 
 his plausibility and boldness, as well as on account of 
 his theories. But I am sorry for his wife, she seems 
 to believe everything he says." 
 
 When the Aliens had gone, Brand continued to pace 
 the floor uneasily. Suddenly he picked up the book 
 that he had handed to his visitor, and read again the 
 words slowly and carefully. 
 
 "What is'troubling you, dear?" said Carissa, coming 
 to him and placing her hand lovingly on his arm. 
 
 "Nothing at all," he answered, closing the book 
 and turning to her with an appearance of frankness. 
 •T am just growing a little weary of staying on here in 
 the east; of having to meet continually this hostility, 
 
 this bitter criticism." 
 
 "You are tired, dear," she said, gently and sooth- 
 ingly. "I shall insist upon your taking some ^rest. 
 You must give up some of these preaching tours." 
 
 But he shook his head, and an expression that was 
 almost fierce came into his face. 
 
 "No, the battle is on, and I will not be found want- 
 ing I was wrong to yield to depression even for a 
 moment. But it is good to feel your tender sympathy, 
 and to know that;w can never be shaken." 
 
 115 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He held her away from him and studied her face 
 questioningly, then drew her into his arms and held 
 her close. 
 
 A few days later, when Brand was absent, Mrs. 
 Allen called and handed Carissa a copy of the Book 
 of Mormon. 
 
 "Mr. Allen has marked this book for you. He 
 wants you to promise to read the passages underscored 
 and the comments he has made. Will you do it?" 
 
 Carissa hesitated, she wondered what could be his 
 object. 
 
 "It is the first edition of the book that you claim 
 came from God. Surely you are not unwilling to read 
 and judge for yourself?" her visitor urged. 
 
 "I will read it," said Carissa, gravely, although 
 there was an element of distrust in her heart. 
 
 Brand had already taught her to regard this book as 
 of equal authority with the Bible, but she had never 
 read it, except when he was present to explain its 
 meaning. 
 
 Now, as she set herself to the task, a sense of 
 wrong-doing oppressed her; for on the margins every- 
 where she found terse pencilings, calling attention to 
 the crudities, extravagances, absurdities and contra- 
 dictions that everywhere abounded. 
 
 In spite of herself the thought began to take shape 
 that this book was simply a clumsy imitation of the 
 Bible, verbose and stupid, composed by one whose 
 irreverence was only equaled by his ignorance and 
 conceit. 
 
 Her own reading had been sufficiently good for her 
 to recognize the absurd inconsistencies and inac- 
 curacies that were brought to her notice. 
 
 116 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 She was pained and shocked at the startling contrast 
 between the short, incisive, pertinent sentences of 
 Jesus as recorded in the Gospels, and the labored, 
 clumsy and vapid utterances attributed to Him in the 
 book she was reading. 
 
 "And behold, this is the thing which I will give 
 unto you for a sign, for verily I say unto you, that 
 when these things which I declare unto you and which 
 I shall declare unto you hereafter of myself, and by 
 the power of the Holy Ghost, which shall be given 
 unto you of the Father, shall be made known unto the 
 Gentiles, that they may know concerning this people, 
 who are a remnant of the house of Jacob, and concern- 
 ing this my people, who shall be scattered by them; 
 verily, verily I say unto you, when these things shall 
 be made known unto them of the Father, and shall 
 come forth of the Father, from them unto you, for it 
 is wisdom in the Father that they should be established 
 in this land, and be set up as a free people by the 
 power of the Father, that these things might come 
 forth from them unto a remnant of your seed, that the 
 covenant of the Father may be fulfilled which he has 
 covenanted with his people, O house of Israel; there- 
 fore, when these works, and the works which shall be 
 wrought among you hereafter, shall come forth from 
 the Gentiles unto your seed, which shall dwindle in 
 unbelief because of iniquity; for thus it behooveth the 
 Father that it should come forth from the Gentiles, 
 that he may show forth his power unto the Gentiles, 
 for this cause, that the Gentiles, if they will not harden 
 their hearts, that they may repent and come unto me, 
 and be baptized in my name, and know of the true 
 points of my doctrine, that they may be numbered 
 
 117 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 among my people, O house of Israel; and when these 
 things come to pass, that thy seed shall begin to know 
 these things, it shall be a sign unto them, that they 
 may know that the work of the Father hath already 
 commenced, unto the fulfilling of the covenant which 
 he hath made unto the people who are of the house of 
 Israel." 
 
 "And Jesus again showed himself unto them, for 
 they were praying unto the Father, in his name; and 
 Jesus came and stood in the midst of them and saith 
 unto them, what will ye that I shall give unto you? 
 And they said unto him, Lord, we will that thou 
 wouldst tell us the name whereby we shall call this 
 church; for there are disputations among the people 
 concerning this matter. And the Lord said unto 
 them, verily, verily, I say unto you, why is it the 
 people should murmur and dispute because of this 
 thing? have they not read the scriptures, which say ye 
 must take upon you the name of Christ, which is my 
 name? for by this name shall ye be called at the last 
 day; and whoso taketh upon him my name, and endur- 
 eth to the end, the same shall be saved at the last day; 
 therefore whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my 
 name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; 
 and ye shall call upon the Father in my name, that 
 he will bless the church for my sake; and how be it 
 my church, save it be called in my name? for if a 
 church be called in Moses' name, then it be Moses' 
 church; or if it be called in the name of a man, then 
 it be the church of a man; but if it be called in my 
 name, then it is my church, if it so be that they are 
 built upon my gospel. Verily, I say unto you, that ye 
 are built upon my gospel; therefore ye shall cal! 
 
 118 
 
FIRST PRINCIPLES 
 
 whatsoever things ye do in my name; therefore if ye 
 call upon the Father, for the church, if it be in my 
 name, the Father will hear you; and if it so be that 
 the church is built upon my gospel, then will the 
 Father show forth his own works in it; but if it be not 
 built upon my gospel, and is built upon the works of 
 men, or upon the works of the devil, verily I say unto 
 you, they have joy in their works for a season, and by 
 and by the end cometh and they are hewn down and 
 cast into the fire, from whence there is no return; for 
 their works do follow them, for it is because of their 
 works that they are hewn down, therefore remember 
 the things that I have told you." 
 
 For a long time she read, as one bound by her 
 promise, finding her attention continually called to ex- 
 amples of execrable grammar and ridiculous compo- 
 sition. 
 
 "Yea, if my days could have been in them days," 
 she read, "but, behold, I am consigned that these are 
 my days." 
 
 "And they having been waxed strong in battle, that 
 they might not be destroyed." 
 
 "Even until they had arriven to the land of Mid- 
 doni." 
 
 "Now when Ammon and his brethren saw this work 
 of destruction among those who they so dearly be- 
 loved, and among those who had so dearly beloved 
 them." 
 
 "He went forth among the people, waving the rent 
 of his garment in the air, that all might see the writing 
 which he had wrote upon the rent." 
 
 These were a few of the gems of inspiration which 
 she read, and she found them distinctly amusing. 
 
 119 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 But, of a sudden, her mental attitude flashed upon her, 
 and she flung the book from her. It fell upon the 
 floor— her Holy Book! With a half articulate cry, 
 she rose, picked it up, and put it reverently on the 
 table. This, then, was the net spread for her by her 
 enemies. And she had fallen into it — disloyally, pre- 
 sumptuously, wickedly, had fallen into it! Her con- 
 science smote her. Not until evening came, and she 
 had told it all to her husband, and had heard his 
 soothing words, was she comforted. 
 
 "Dearest, it is God's Word brought to us in the lan- 
 guage of ignorant men who lived and suffered ages 
 ago. Your friends are false friends who would poison 
 your peace. We will read these books together, and 
 you will find them full of inspiration for pure thinking 
 and noble living." 
 
 When Mrs. Allen called again, Carissa denied her- 
 self to her visitor, and returned the book that had 
 been, in her eyes, so terribly perverted by a sacri- 
 legious touch. 
 
 120 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 A CRY IN THE NIGHT 
 
 Brand's intercourse with Elder Willard during the 
 long winter months was not without its influence on 
 his character. It served as a wholesome balance 
 against his tendency to yield too fully to Carissa's 
 point of view. After a day spent in the bracing com- 
 panionship of this clear-headed, keen-witted exponent 
 of practical Mormonism, he marveled at himself that 
 he had made no greater headway in modifying the 
 ideal conceptions that he had unwittingly implanted 
 in her mind by invoking the picture of primitive 
 Christianity. Her idea of primitive Christianity had 
 proved very different from his own. She assented to 
 much that he set before her, but the tenacity with 
 which she clung to her preconceived ideas of the 
 essential spirit of Christianity prevented her from 
 grasping its real significance. Yet how could he unde- 
 ceive her? Once or twice he attempted to brutally 
 shatter her paganized dreams of a spiritual kingdom 
 by reading to her from Apostle Pratt's essays on "The 
 Kingdom of God," and "Absurdities of Immaterial- 
 ism," but her startled look of incredulity and her 
 immediate protest of rejection warned him that such 
 forceful presentation of the doctrine he held was, 
 as yet, premature. 
 
 "Her mind is not logically constructed," he 
 thought. "It is rather a channel for the outward play 
 of feelings and emotions." 
 
 121 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 And he tried to be content with simply leading her 
 sympathies into association with the plans and strug- 
 gles of her adopted people. 
 
 "There will probably never be any real necessity for 
 her to acquire a rational grasp upon our system of 
 theology," he would assure himself, though this assur- 
 ance trembled somewhat as he recalled his first inter- 
 view with Elder Willard. 
 
 During these winter months the gospel of "The 
 Gathering" and of "The Authority of the Holy Priest- 
 hood" was preached with great diligence. 
 
 Under instructions received through Elder Willard, 
 the missionaries of New York and vicinity went forth 
 as a unit and remarkable success attended their labors. 
 They met with bitter opposition, they were denounced 
 by the pulpit and arraigned before the bar of public 
 opinion by the press. Angry mobs often rose against 
 them, but nothing could check their aggressive, prosely- 
 ting spirit. Two by two they would canvass a village 
 or city, going from house to house, leaving tracts, 
 holding private conversations and preaching wherever 
 they had opportunity. 
 
 The majority of their converts were among the 
 women, and the men were often further exasperated 
 into acts of violence by feeling that underhand meth- 
 ods were being used. 
 
 If persecution and lively hatred could have killed a 
 religious movement, Mormonism would not have sur- 
 vived its early experience. But persecution often 
 proved its most valuable ally. Where mobs arose to 
 disturb the meetings and to drive out the Elders, they 
 had learned that the awakened interest and the cer- 
 tain reaction would afford them their opportunity; as 
 
 122 
 
A CRY IN THE NIGHT 
 
 they preached openly nothing offensive, and boldly 
 denied the truth of all charges brought against them, 
 it was not strange that many conversions should follow. 
 
 In these campaigns Brand did not spare himself. 
 At times he was absent for weeks, and when he 
 returned he spoke of long itineraries, of the excite- 
 ment of the country people over the new doctrines, 
 of opposition from the different sects, and of occa- 
 sional bursts of religious enthusiam that resulted in 
 many new accessions but more often of rejection, 
 hatred, scoffing and threatened violence. 
 
 On one occasion Carissa was startled into a vivid 
 recollection of the first time he had entered the hall- 
 way in her old home in England, as she saw, on his 
 return from one of these tours, a dark discoloration 
 over the left temple that brought out in striking relief 
 the pallor of the clean shaven lower portion of the 
 face. 
 
 "What is it? What has happened?" she exclaimed 
 in quick nervous alarm. 
 
 "Nothing, dearest — not now — it is simply the 
 mark of a blow — it stunned me a little at the time, 
 but I spoke as well as ever in the evening. That was 
 several days ago," 
 
 Even as he spoke a heavy frown gathered upon his 
 brow. 
 
 "I have said it is nothing. But is it nothing? I 
 am safe it is true, but our brethren everywhere are 
 being subjected to horrible indignities," he continued 
 bitterly, "For the present we must endure, but the 
 day is coming when the Lord of Hosts will commission 
 us to give battle in His name and then, woe to those 
 that have scorned, ridiculed, lied against, denounced 
 
 123 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 and rejected the message which we bear. Those who 
 have poured abuse like a flood upon the heads of the 
 innocent shall themselves be utterly confounded and 
 overthrown." 
 
 Carissa had never seen him in so dark a mood, and 
 she sat silent with a certain fear at her heart as he 
 related with intense feeling the stories that had come 
 to him of atrocities perpetrated against the Saints. 
 
 Presently, however, he spoke of the increasing 
 numbers of those who were gathering to the standard 
 of the church. 
 
 "They have been hardened by persecution," he said, 
 shaking off his depression, "and their power is increas- 
 ing with marvelous rapidity. Soon our persecutors 
 themselves shall sue for mercy. Carissa, there are 
 thousands that have wended their way across the 
 plains this season, alone, and there are many thousands 
 more who are coming. We can afford to endure for 
 a time, for the day of ultimate triumph is not far 
 distant." 
 
 From this time her thoughts followed him with 
 anxiety, and she spent many hours in prayer that God 
 would guide and protect him. 
 
 On more than one occasion Brand had been 
 pursued by a jeering crowd almost to the neighbor- 
 hood of his own home, but had shaken them off and 
 had said nothing of the circumstance. 
 
 One beautiful evening in September over a year 
 since their departure from England, Carissa walked 
 out to meet her husband whose return she momently 
 expected. She was feeling languid and strangely 
 depressed. She had been thinking of the old home, 
 not regretfully, but with a subtle tugging at the heart- 
 
 124 
 
A CRY IN THE NIGHT 
 
 strings that affected her as a premonition of coming 
 trouble. She thought she had noticed an unexplained 
 anxiety throwing its shadows of late over the calm 
 serenity of her husband's countenance — and now, over 
 against the thoughts of the old, happy, care-free life, 
 she saw her love for him stand out in bold relief as 
 the one thing that had come to make up her existence. 
 
 "If anything should happen to him!" Her heart 
 stood still at the thought. 
 
 The bright fabric that she had woven in the inner 
 chamber of her consciousness was all centered about 
 him. What she had called her religious faith was, 
 after all, faith in him. Her absorbing interest in this 
 people that she had never seen was because they were 
 his people and because he had awakened it by his 
 magician's touch. 
 
 Suddenly she heard the sound of shouting, and turn- 
 ing the corner of the street before her she witnessed a 
 disorderly rabble of men and boys. The figure in 
 advance, now turning and speaking as with remon- 
 strance, his hand lifted in protest, now advancing 
 with dignified determination to heed not their jeering 
 and to disregard their threats of violence, she recog- 
 nized as her husband. 
 
 It is doubtful if the crowd intended serious mischief. 
 They were probably animated by the ruffianly, hunting 
 instinct that considers every marked and despised 
 man the object of legitimate sport and pursuit — the 
 same instinct that tags a rabble of unwashed urchins 
 at the heels of a sot, whose senses have been befud- 
 dled with drink and who has afforded a vent for the 
 badgering impulses of their incipient brutality. In 
 this case the excitement was intensified, because their 
 
 125 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 victim was well clad, in full possession of his faculties, 
 able to understand to the full their goading taunts, 
 and yet equally outside the pale of human sympathy 
 and respect. They had learned by experience that 
 pursuit could be conducted with impunity, as the only 
 means he had ever employed in self-defense had been 
 remonstrance or the misunderstood courage of silence. 
 
 Carissa did not realize this, and if she had, her 
 indignation would have been none the less intense. 
 She remembered when he had been struck down before 
 her eyes, and the repeated threats of violence that had 
 been made against him. She thought of the cowardly 
 treatment in another state that the prophet Joseph had 
 received and she rushed impetuously forward as if to 
 protect him with her life. As Brand looked up and 
 saw her, the predominant expression upon his face was 
 of sad astonishment. 
 
 "Here, dearest, this is no place for you. Stay there 
 a moment and never fear." He lifted her into the 
 sheltered enclosure of a fence corner and then turned 
 upon the crowd. 
 
 "And now, you cowards, get out of here. Move, I 
 say, or there'll soon be work for surgeons of this ward 
 in plenty." 
 
 He rushed forward, seized the foremost and largest 
 of his pursuers, wrested the stick from his hand and 
 deftly tripped him so that he fell heavily to the 
 ground. 
 
 "And now get up, you fool, and follow the rest of 
 those cowards home," he contemptuously kicked the 
 hulking figure before him and pointed to the melting 
 crowd. 
 
 "You see, Carissa, they're nothing but cowards after 
 
 126 
 
A CRY IN THE NIGHT 
 
 all. I would have dismissed the escort long before 
 this had I dreamed that you were near, to be fright- 
 ened." 
 
 It was long before the color came back to Carissa's 
 face. She panted with trepidation as she walked — she 
 was forced to lean heavily on his arm and he was 
 compelled to almost carry her up the steps into the 
 hall and into her own room. She smiled at his words 
 of reassurance, but it was a wan smile and full of pain, 
 though loving and admiring. 
 
 That night a hasty summons was despatched for 
 nurse and physician, the night-lamp burned till 
 morning, and, just as day was breaking, a tiny cry 
 from the sick room announced that a new life had 
 come into the world. 
 
 "A healthy boy and full of vitality. He has suffered 
 no harm from the shock." The doctor buttoned his 
 great coat about him and smiled with professional 
 satisfaction as he spoke. 
 
 •And she?" 
 
 "She is doing splendidly. Let her have all the rest 
 she can get. Nurse knows what to do. I'll look in 
 again after breakfast." 
 
 127 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 A few weeks after the birth of his son, Brand was 
 sitting with Carissa and talking of the future. He 
 had been able to spend much of his time with her 
 during these weeks. Elder Willard was making a tour 
 of the southern states, the New York headquarters 
 had been closed, and missionary activity had been 
 suspended, until further orders should come from Salt 
 Lake City. 
 
 Brand had enjoyed this respite and the opportunity 
 of being at home with his wife and boy. 
 
 "He is a child of faith, we will call him Moroni," 
 he said with a fond look at the little fellow sleeping 
 the sweet sleep of infancy, and an admiring glance at 
 the proud, slightly-flushed face of his wife. 
 
 "Moroni the angel messenger, associated with the 
 first call of the prophet Joseph, and the one who 
 pointed out the ancient records deposited in the sacred 
 hill Cumorah." 
 
 "It is a beautiful name," said Carissa. "Beautiful, 
 because of its hallowed associations. When I think 
 of his future I am anxious that even his unconscious 
 childhood should be guarded. Do you think we shall 
 soon be permitted to cast in our lot with the Lord's 
 own people?" 
 
 How sweet was her attitude of motherly care and 
 solicitude as she stooped toward the cradle, and 
 daintily tucked in the covers with a caressing touch! 
 
 128 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 A shadow passed across Brand's features, and yet he 
 would have been at a loss to explain its presence, or 
 the hesitation of his words. 
 
 "I hope so, yes, and yet— Carissa, did I tell you 
 that one of my father's old friends, whom I knew 
 when a boy, has just come from Salt Lake? I shall 
 want you to know him, I am to meet him to-day." 
 
 "Will you bring him to the house with you? It 
 will be a rare pleasure to talk with him," she replied. 
 "I have seen so few of your people, you know, and no 
 one who could tell us about our future home." 
 
 "As I remember him," Brand continued, evading 
 her question, "he was rugged, and somewhat unculti- 
 vated in speech, but true and loyal. Of late years he 
 has gained considerable prominence in the church. He 
 intimated in his letter that he had a message for me." 
 
 He could read in her eyes the hope that she enter- 
 tained concerning the character of this message, 
 and he felt that come what might his wishes were in 
 harmony with hers. 
 
 He had spoken so often and so glowingly of the 
 great enterprises that were being carried forward 
 yonder in Zion, that his own soul had been fired 
 anew with an eager desire to have part in them. He 
 did not minimize the difficulties, he longed to grapple 
 with them, and he had begun to persuade himself that 
 Carissa's faith would be able to endure any experience. 
 He sometimes accused himself of disloyalty that he 
 had ever questioned it. 
 
 Carissa's personality from the first had stimulated 
 the best portion of his thought, and whenever he 
 yielded to the charm of her presence, he almost uncon- 
 sciously shifted his ground, and spiritualized his own 
 
 129 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 belief in the materialistic dogmas of his creed. It 
 would seem that the enthusiasm of her pure mind 
 gave a passing illumination to the points of faith he 
 urged upon her, and supplied a subtle coloring of its 
 own to his natural flow of eloquence. 
 
 "I have to meet the Elders to-morrow, in the city, 
 and hear the news from Zion. If the word is, March! 
 it will be good news, won't it, sweet?" 
 
 "Ah, husband mine, wouldn't it be joyful!" 
 exclaimed Carissa. 
 
 The messenger from Zion, whom Brand met next 
 day in the city, was a gaunt, tall man, with bearded 
 face, small sharp eyes, and a look of shrewdness on 
 his features that were weather-beaten from constant 
 exposure. 
 
 "Well, Brother Brand, you look pretty slick. I 
 guess your labors for the Lord have been agreein' with 
 you. You fellows on the missions have the easiest 
 end of the load, and don't you forget it," he remarked, 
 with rough cordiality. 
 
 "How are you, Brother Heber, it is years since I 
 saw you," said Brand, as they shook hands in a warm 
 greeting. "I have heard great things about you and 
 the work." 
 
 "Yes, we've been building considerable," said 
 Heber, drawling his words in true Yankee fashion. 
 "At first it was hold your gun in one hand and build 
 with the other. The Lamanites were overly inquisi- 
 tive for a time, but we've taught 'em a few lessons, 
 and several of their chiefs have been converted by 
 Brother Brigham. A little corn and a few pellets of 
 lead done the business. Yes, the valley has filled up 
 and we have begun to overflow into the country around. " 
 
 130 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 "And the temple?" 
 
 "The ground is there— ten acres of it. It will be 
 consecrated in February. We need to get more 
 money in hand for materials, before the corner stone 
 can be laid. But it's coming. Doesn't the Lord 
 say, 'The wealth of the world is mine,' and you may 
 be%ure we'll get our share of it." A look of shrewd- 
 ness passed over his hard features. "But the people 
 must be urged to pay up. Brother Brigham has given 
 orders that you shall be relieved of your post here, 
 and take personal charge of one of the first parties 
 coming through next season." 
 
 A sigh of pleasure escaped Brand's lips. "I shall 
 be glad. I have long coveted the opportunity." 
 
 Then as he thought of Carissa, "Who will take my 
 place? How early ought the start to be made?' 
 
 "Well, you'll have plenty of time to close up every- 
 thing this winter, and start for winter quarters in the 
 spring," responded his visitor. "You'll want to stock 
 up big. There's no use in takin' cash out there. 
 Cattle and mules, farming tools and seed, with your 
 wagons, will come mighty handy, and it wouldn't be 
 bad to load up with general merchandise. There's a 
 lot to be done, but you can be ready to take charge of 
 one of the parties at the Missouri and get started up 
 the Platte by the first of July. I'll relieve you here 
 And give you pointers." 
 
 "Yes, there's much to be done." For a moment his 
 mind seized the situation vividly. 
 
 "And the people there, already in Zion— are they 
 contented and happy? How do they adjust them- 
 selves to the new conditions?" Brand asked. 
 
 "Well, there's no neighbors to quarrel with as at 
 
 131 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Nauvoo. You know the kind of people that have 
 come; they've mostly passed through your hands for 
 a year or so back. They're pretty apt to be submis- 
 sive and do as they're told. That's the one thing 
 that pleases Brother Brigham. They have plenty to 
 do, but they don't lack merry-makin's, dancin's and 
 such. Brother Brigham encourages all this, for it 
 keeps 'em light-hearted." 
 
 "And the services — are they soul-inspiring?" 
 
 •The what?" 
 
 'The services of worship." 
 
 "Oh, the services! Why, they're red-hot! There 
 aren't as many revelations as in the old days, but 
 Brother Brigham hits straight from the shoulder, and 
 the rest of us chip in when it's necessary. There's 
 plenty of religion to the square inch out there, and 
 don't you forget it." 
 
 He chuckled; and Eaton Brand felt a momentary 
 disgust, but he thought, "It's the frontier way. 
 Heber always was an outspoken fellow." 
 
 "Say, Brand, I suppose you know they're about to 
 let the cat out of the bag, don't you?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "You don't mean to tell me you don't know? 
 Didn't you see the brethren that went over to Eng- 
 land and France, to instruct the Elders?" 
 
 "No. I have been confined to the house for the 
 last few weeks." 
 
 "Oh, yes! I heard something about it; quite a tidy 
 wench, they say. Some of them told Brother 
 Brigham and he said, Tt's not right for Brother Brand 
 to keep her in seclusion. We must bring him to the 
 territory and have him show her off.'" 
 
 132 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 "My wife has been ill. She has just presented me 
 with a son." Fatherly pride, and the old feeling of 
 brotherliness for the rough character before him, sub- 
 dued the irritation caused by his words. 
 
 "That's right. I'm glad to hear iti The more the 
 merrier, and I tell you it every woman does her duty 
 and the emigration keeps on increasing, we'll have 
 population enough in a few years, out our way, to force 
 the recognition of the State of Deseret. 
 
 "That brings me back," he went on. "Didn't you 
 know they were going to announce that revelation on 
 'celestial marriage'?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" Brand exclaimed. "Is that 
 to be revived? It cannot be! It must not! I have 
 been disowning it for seven years." 
 
 He had risen in his excitement and now towered 
 over his visitor, his fist resting heavily on the table. 
 "I have heard rumors, but I have not believed them." 
 
 "They're true enough. Don't exercise your sensi- 
 bilities in the matter. It's all right enough. It's the 
 Lord's will for replenishing the earth. He will have 
 a peculiar people, zealous of all good works. At any 
 rate the matter has been decided. Commissioners 
 have gone to Europe. Orson Pratt has gone to Wash- 
 ington. They are to prepare the minds of men to 
 receive the word of the Lord." 
 
 "But isn't it suicidal? What is the necessity?" 
 
 Brand dropped back into his seat, and began nerv- 
 ously plucking at the wood-work. He had been aware 
 of the secret teachings of ]\Iormonism concerning 
 polygamy, and knew that these teachings alone 
 shielded the conduct of many of the leaders from the 
 charge of criminality. But he had been told that it 
 
 133 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 was not for the world to know these things, and his 
 conscience had early been trained to make bold public 
 denials. For years he had deliberately closed his ears 
 to every intimation that the practice of polygamy was 
 on the increase, and that it must soon become a 
 recognized principle of their faith. He thought of 
 Carissa, and wondered and doubted. 
 
 "You see, it's this way," Heber replied, "the facts 
 have become too notorious. The habit of denyin' the 
 truth, even when the Lord says so, is a leetle corruptin' 
 to the morals. At this coming conference the an- 
 nouncement will be made. It'll be all right; a few will 
 turn back, because they love the fair speakin' of the 
 ungodly, but others will come. You'll find it will 
 prove a drawin' card, and don't you forget it." 
 
 "If it had never been concealed! But now!" 
 
 "Oh, it's all right. The Lord's hand is in it all. 
 We are now off by ourselves, where it will bother 
 nobody; and it wouldn't have done to have kept it 
 secret any longer. Think of Brother Taylor denying it 
 up and down at Boulogne, and provin' it wasn't true 
 from the 'Doctrines and Covenants,' and him with 
 five wives in Salt Lake City!" The argument was 
 certainly unanswerable. 
 
 Heber studied the face of the young man before 
 him. There was evidently a debate going on that he 
 did not fully understand. He did not know that 
 Brand was looking at the matter in the light that 
 would shine from Carissa's clear and uninstructed 
 eyes. There came as a relief the thought of the 
 ascendency that he exercised over her. 
 
 "I can gradually unfold to her the principles 
 involved," he thought. "There'll be abundant oppor- 
 
 134 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 tunity on the long journey. She will learn to tolerate 
 it in others. I will assure her that she need never fear 
 
 for herself." 
 
 He understood her well enough to know that noth- 
 ing could ever induce her to become, personally, a 
 part of such a system. But he did not despair of 
 bringing her to see the beauty and utility of the 
 abstract theory, so long as it was illustrated only in 
 the lives of others. 
 
 "Well, I suppose it was inevitable that it should 
 come," he finally assented. "I suppose we might as 
 well make a full front of it, but it will raise a furious 
 storm. It is a pity that it was ever concealed, or 
 that there was ever anything that needed to be con- 
 cealed." 
 
 "You forget that you're setting yourself against the 
 will of the Lord. Be careful, brother." 
 
 "True, I do forget, but I was commanded to forget. 
 The habit of denouncing the thing, as I have done by 
 express instructions for these years, is not easily to be 
 broken," he said bitterly. 
 
 "Well, the habit had better be snapped off short 
 before you reach Brother Brigham," said the other, 
 and added kindly, "you'll soon get used to it. As 
 for that storm you speak of, there's nothing like a 
 storm to make the chickens run for shelter. Mark 
 my words, it'll be followed by a bigger emigration to 
 Zion than we've yet known. They'll come from 
 Europe and from the States, too, and all the quicker 
 when the places where they've been comfortable 
 become too hot for 'em. I must go down to Washing- 
 ton in a few days and lend a hand to Brother Pratt. 
 There's considerable work on hand. You've got the 
 
 135 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 biggest heft of what I had to say. I'll run out to the 
 old place some day, when I get back." 
 
 "You will be welcome, Brother Heber, but — " he 
 hesitated. The shrewd face of Heber lighted up as 
 with a sudden understanding. 
 
 "I see. There's a little complexity down there, is 
 there? You don't want anything said about all this, 
 you think you can ravel it out best alone. Well, 
 perhaps that's so. Just be firm; caution's all right, 
 but firmness'll do the business. Don't you be afraid 
 of my spoiling the job. The Lord be with you, 
 brother." 
 
 After his departure, Eaton Brand considered: "No, 
 nothing must be said until after the journey has begun. 
 There will be abundant opportunity during those long 
 weeks. I wonder how she will receive it. But she 
 must be made to know that it is the will of the Lord. 
 I will put it to her gently, but firmly, and she vv^ill 
 accept it." 
 
 When he reached home that evening, he cried out: 
 
 "Carissa, we're going, we're going. In the spring 
 we are to start for Zion." 
 
 "Oh, how glad I am!" and she threw herself into 
 his arms. "I have longed for the time to come, I have 
 prayed for it." 
 
 "Yes, dearest, it has been hard to wait." 
 
 "And I am so glad for Moroni. Come and see 
 him." 
 
 And they stood looking at the young monkey, who 
 was smiling in his sleep like an angel. The mother's 
 heart throbbed quickly. She would be happy now, 
 and her son would grow to a noble manhood, cherish- 
 ing the fine ideals of his people. 
 
 136 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 As soon as Brand was alone, his thought reverted 
 to the news that he had received through Heber. 
 
 The revelation on celestial marriage was to be given 
 to the world. That revelation was a divine authoriza- 
 tion of polygamy. It is true that he had known for a 
 long time that this was a system believed in and prac- 
 ticed in secret by the leaders of the church. But 
 now, it was to be proclaimed openly, as the social 
 system of the people among whom they were to live! 
 As this fact came home to him, he paced up and down 
 in his study restlessly. For himself, he would not 
 have minded it, but as he thought of his wife, he 
 exclaimed, bitterly: 
 
 "It's a beastly business." 
 
 Presently, he seated himself in his chair and set the 
 matter squarely before himself. 
 
 He had denied this thing in the past. This fact put 
 him in an unpleasant situation! But he had denied it 
 in obedience to the express commands of the church. 
 His conscience did not accuse him of wrongdoing, for 
 he was fully persuaded of the unquestionable authority 
 of the holy priesthood. Obedience to that authority 
 was the first requisite of moral conduct. 
 
 'Treach nothing but the first principles of the 
 doctrine of Christ," commanded the twelve apostles of 
 this Latter Day Church, "faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 repentance toward God, baptism in the name of Jesus 
 for the remission of sins, laying on of hands for the 
 gift of the Holy Ghost, the resurrection of the dead 
 and eternal judgment. Leave the further mysteries of 
 the kingdom till God shall tell you to preach them, 
 which is not now." 
 
 This was the commission under which he had 
 
 137 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 worked. It had been his duty, not only to conceal 
 these further mysteries, but also, if need were, to deny 
 their existence. 
 
 The voice of the prophet had spoken with no uncer- 
 tain sound: 
 
 "I say unto you, hold your peace until I shall see 
 fit to make all things known unto the world concerning 
 this matter." 
 
 "And now I say unto you, keep these thi?igs from 
 going abroad into the world, until it is expedient in 
 me. 
 
 "But a commandment I give unto you that they shall 
 not <^^^w/ themselves of these things, neither speak of 
 them before the world, for these things are given unto 
 you for your profit and your salvatio?i. ' ' 
 
 These commandments had been his rule of action. 
 He did not now question their righteousness. He 
 remembered some who had disobeyed and who had 
 brought evil upon the church, by making confession 
 of the actual teachings and practices of the Saints 
 prematurely; and he felt that just punishment had been 
 meted to them when they were cut off, without mercy, 
 and given over to the buffetings of Satan as treason- 
 able apostates. He set all this before his mind, and 
 acquitted himself of blame; but this justification did 
 not remove the unpleasantness. It would prove unfor- 
 tunate, indeed, unless he could bring Carissa to look 
 at the matter from his point of view. 
 
 The thought came not to join the emigration west- 
 ward, at least for a time. But he knew this would be 
 construed as disobedience. Suddenly he startled him- 
 self with the question: "Am I sitting in judgment 
 upon the representatives of God?" 
 
 138 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 The warning of Heber sounded in his ears: "Be 
 careful, brother!" 
 
 Was he to permit his private interests to divert him 
 from the path of duty? After all, would a temporiz- 
 ing policy help him? And then, too, had he been 
 strong all these years to fail now? 
 
 The great West was calling to him. His heart was 
 in the mighty enterprises that were being carried for- 
 ward. His interests were all enlisted in the future of 
 his people. The controlling ambition of his life was 
 associated with their career and destiny. As he strained 
 his mental vision upon the future, the strength of his 
 desire came to influence his judgment. Carissa would 
 yet learn to look upon all this from his standpoint. Why 
 was he indulging his apprehensions? She had always 
 listened to him; she had proved herself teachable. 
 
 "Yes, but this is different," he said. 
 
 He was compelled to acknowledge that there would 
 be no eagerness on her part to adopt the further mys- 
 teries of the faith. For a moment, he felt that this 
 fact was in keeping with all that had been so powerful 
 in her attraction for him, but he put away the thought 
 with impatience. He must be guarded with her, that 
 he knew. There was really nothing in her mind as 
 yet, upon which such a revelation could rest. He 
 must build patiently and securely, that was all. He 
 realized to the full the gravity of the situation, but as 
 he sat there, confidence, born of his sanguine tem- 
 perament, began to return. 
 
 "I will be firm, but gentle," he thought, "and surely 
 the long winter evenings still before us, and the pro- 
 tracted journey overland, will afford abundant oppor- 
 tunities." 
 
 139 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 His meditations were interrupted. A light tap 
 sounded upon the door, and Carissa entered. 
 
 "May I come in, dear?" 
 
 Her face was flushed; her eyes were sparkling. She 
 had been indulging in delightful anticipations. 
 
 "Are you busy, dear? I want to talk with you. It 
 seems too good to be true." 
 
 He smiled upon her lovingly. 
 
 "Are you so anxious, then, to leave this cozy nest, 
 where we have been so happy?" 
 
 There was tenderness in his words. 
 
 She took a low seat by his side. 
 
 "It is true; we have been happy here, but — " she 
 hesitated a moment before she added, "I have spent 
 so many anxious hours, dearest, when you have been 
 away. It is hard to feel that the world is so bitter in 
 its hatred.*' 
 
 "Your loving heart has exaggerated all that, my 
 wife." 
 
 "Then, too," she continued, "I have never thought 
 of this as our permanent home. It is only a stopping- 
 place on our way to that great country of God." 
 
 "That is true," he said steadily, but with a trace of 
 compassion softening his tone, "but, dearest, you must 
 not look for dazzling external conditions. The glory 
 of our people is in their docility and obedience. They 
 have been terribly tested. They have suffered every 
 privation, but the eye of faith has always seen the 
 hand of God. They have endured hunger and cold; 
 have lived in tents and wagons and rude temporary 
 shelters, constructed of logs and mud. Some have 
 murmured and waxed disobedient against the voice of 
 the holy priesthood and have been cut off. Even 
 
 140 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 now there are discordant elements that need a hand as 
 strong and firm as that of IMoses or Joshua to control 
 them." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose it must be so," she said, sadly. 
 "You see, Carissa," he continued, tenderly, "the 
 consciences of all these people have been trained by 
 man-made traditions, and have been subjected to the 
 test of laws enacted by the ungodly. The result is 
 that they have learned to put their own standards of 
 right and honor and morality against the revealed 
 will of God. The revelations of Joseph Smith are not 
 to be subjected to this test, and those who attempt it 
 are not of the true faith." 
 
 "His teachings always harmonized with the teach- 
 ings of Christ, did they not?" she asked, innocently. 
 
 "Certainly," he replied, with a trace of impatience, 
 "but you must not think of him as a mere commenta- 
 tor. He was endowed with the open vision of God. 
 He spoke as one having authority. He did not hesi- 
 tate to declare: -'I know more than all the world put 
 together, and the Holy Ghost comprehends more than 
 all the world, and I will associate with it.' " 
 
 Carissa was startled. The words seemed so vulgarly 
 self-assertive. She felt a momentary shock of repug- 
 nance. Brand observed it, and continued firmly, but 
 gently: 
 
 "That sounds like a presumptuous claim, I know, 
 but he needed to assert his authority, in order to break 
 through the barriers of men's unbelief. Our President, 
 Brigham Young, declared, and his words express a 
 solemn truth, Carissa: 'Every soul that confesseth 
 that Joseph Smith was a prophet, that he lived and 
 died a prophet, and that the Book of Mormon is true, 
 
 141 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 is of Christ, and every soul that does not do this is of 
 Antichrist.' " 
 
 There was a certain sternness about Brand's manner 
 that was new to her. She did not dare to confess, 
 even to herself, the sudden feeling of apprehension 
 that had seized her, but he saw it in her eyes. For a 
 moment he feared that he had gone too far or too 
 quickly. His manner instantly changed. He went 
 to her, bent over her and kissed her lovingly on the 
 lips. 
 
 "Joseph Smith, dearest, was a true servant of God, 
 a true disciple of Christ, but he had a necessary mes- 
 sage for this age: To prepare the way for Christ's 
 second coming. We have our part in a great work, 
 and through obedience, you will find that the testi- 
 mony of your own heart will become a precious pos- 
 session." 
 
 His tone was one of deep sincerity. She was com- 
 forted and reassured, as she always was, by his 
 words, but a consciousness of her ignorance, and of 
 her lack of spiritual insight began to oppress her. 
 
 "I seem so slow in learning," she said, as she 
 nestled toward him. 
 
 "Never mind, dear. The realm of truth is very 
 wide. No man can explore it all. It is only neces- 
 sary for us to grasp firmly certain principles, and then 
 yield ourselves to the guidance of Him who knoweth 
 all things, and the end from the beginning, and who 
 speaks through His servants." 
 
 They were silent. As he put his arm about her and 
 held her closely, his thoughts turned to Heber and his 
 rough utterances. How would she adjust herself to 
 these people? He had never been in Salt Lake City, 
 
 142 
 
THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG 
 
 and knew nothing of their life, but he thought of 
 scenes in old Nauvoo — Joseph Smith on horseback, 
 holding a review of the Nauvoo legion, surrounded 
 by thousands of admiring people, greeted everywhere 
 with reverential respect; again, preaching to vast 
 multitudes of attentive listeners, never hesitating, 
 always speaking with authority and clinching his utter- 
 ances with a "thus sayeth the Lord." 
 
 "Surely this man was a true prophet," he thought. 
 "God has prospered marvelously this movement, that 
 had so small a beginning, and that has encountered 
 such furious opposition." 
 
 He looked down into Carissa's face, that was now 
 untroubled and contented, 
 
 "She will believe," he thought, but he felt a strange 
 yearning of compassion for her. "There will be much 
 that will repel her. She will have many a hard bat- 
 tle, but she will accept it and believe." 
 
 143 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 In 1853 there were few points that colonists found 
 more difficult to reach than the valley of the Great 
 Salt Lake. 
 
 The bulk of the emigration from Europe was by 
 way of New Orleans, thence, three thousand miles up 
 the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers, to Council Bluffs, 
 and across a wilderness of plains and mountains to the 
 final destination. 
 
 Such a journey was not without its privations and 
 hardships, and was often attended with serious diffi- 
 culty and danger. A long sea voyage in emigrant 
 ships, crowded to their utmost capacity with men, 
 women and children, denied every semblance of luxury, 
 and with no comforts except of their own devising; 
 then a tedious journey in river steamers still more 
 cramped and comfortless. It is no wonder that a long 
 respite at Winter Quarters was often necessary, before 
 the weary but hopeful people could enter upon their 
 long pilgrimage through the wilderness to the prom- 
 ised land. 
 
 This year there were thousands who left their homes 
 and occupations in the Old World, and, totally ignorant 
 of the conditions confronting them, committed them- 
 selves to the care of the Elders and undertook the 
 journey. 
 
 On July 17, 1852, had been published, in the "Mil- 
 lennial Star," the seventh general epistle of the twelve 
 apostles at Salt Lake City. 
 
 144 
 
WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 "Finally, brethren, fear God; work righteousness 
 and come home speedily. Prepare against another 
 season to come by tens of thousands; and think not 
 that your way is going to be opened to come in char- 
 iots, feasting on the fat of the lands. We have been 
 willing to live on bread and water, and many times 
 very little bread, too, for years, that we might search 
 out and plant the Saints in a goodly land. This we 
 have accomplished through the blessing of our Heav- 
 enly Father; and we now invite you to a feast of fat 
 things, to a land that will supply all of your wants 
 with reasonable labor; therefore, let all who can, pro- 
 cure a bit of bread, and one garment on their back; be 
 assured there is plenty of water, and pure by the way, 
 and doubt no longer, but come next year to the place 
 of gathering, and even in flocks, as doves fly to their 
 windows before a storm." 
 
 And come they did, with their families: laborers, 
 farmers, joiners, shoe-makers, rope-makers, watch- 
 makers, weavers, tailors, masons, butchers, bakers, 
 painters, potters, dyers, iron-moulders, glass-cutters, 
 nail-makers, basket-makers, sawyers, gun-makers, sad- 
 dlers, miners, smiths, and ship-wrights, from every 
 country of northern Europe; with every style of equip- 
 ment; all in eager expectation of a new life under 
 more favorable conditions, and many fired by a relig- 
 ious zeal that had been fanned to fanatical enthusiasm. 
 
 Nor was the storm lacking to hasten them. For, as 
 the programme of the leaders was unfolded, and Polyg- 
 amy began to be recognized as an accepted tenet of 
 the new faith, persecution, that in many places had 
 begun to slumber, was awakened afresh, and raged 
 hard and furious. 
 
 14-5 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Heber was right," said Brand to himself, as 
 reports came in of the great numbers who were 
 gathering. "The Lord will have a peculiar people. 
 Intolerance and hatred are His instruments for com- 
 pacting the people together and for hardening their 
 hearts to undertake and endure." 
 
 For him, the winter months were crowded with 
 labor. He disposed of his property, purchased out- 
 fits, and adjusted all his personal affairs, in preparation 
 for the great change. 
 
 Affairs of the church had also engaged him. Heber 
 had desired his presence at every consultation of the 
 elders. Pamphlets were prepared; tracts were dis- 
 tributed; personal interviews were held; the city was 
 districted for house to house visitation; meetings were 
 held on the public squares, in hired halls and in private 
 residences. 
 
 Several times they faced the fury of an angry mob. 
 Their work attracted attention, they were denounced 
 from the pulpit and lampooned in the press. They 
 took advantage of the public interest, and preached 
 their faith with consummate tact, a bold front, and 
 the earnestness of unfaltering conviction. It is not 
 strange that there were those who came to believe 
 that a cause so zealously advocated, at the expense of 
 ease and comfort, and in the teeth of bitter hostility, 
 must be worthy of serious investigation. Many of the 
 w^orking classes of the people believed their teaching, 
 and were encouraged to look forward to the time when 
 they should enter upon their portion of the inheritance 
 of the people of God. 
 
 His experiences this winter, and his frequent contact 
 with Heber, whose shrewd sense never failed him, 
 
 146 
 
WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 removed the last vestige of apprehension from 
 the mind of Eaton Brand, and confirmed him even 
 more strongly in the dogmas of his faith. But to 
 Carissa he did not broach the subject that was absorb- 
 ing his thoughts. He felt himself fortified for the 
 discussion that must come, but he adhered to his 
 original resolution to wait. 
 
 She had never been more contented, although at 
 times she was a bit troubled by his preoccupation, but 
 the days passed quickly; her hands were fully 
 employed; her thoughts were busy weaving the web 
 of the future with bright colors and glowing fancies, 
 even as her fingers were busy stitching warm garments 
 for her boy, and her heart, when hungry, fed itself with 
 the rich stores of her maternal affection. 
 
 It was in early May when the start was made. At 
 Chicago they were fitted out with wagons; some 
 loaded with freight suitable to the needs of colonists, 
 and others fitted up with some regard to comfort, 
 containing sleeping and kitchen accommodations for 
 the entire party. The teamsters were converts from 
 the eastern states, who eagerly embraced the oppor- 
 tunity of securing conveyance for themselves and 
 families by means of this employment. As they 
 passed through the State of Iowa, purchases were made 
 of additional horses, mules, milch-cows, and sheep, as 
 well as grain and provisions, so that as they drew near 
 the Missouri River, their train presented an imposing 
 and almost patriarchal appearance. From this point 
 they bade good-bye to civilization, and, with the 
 reinforcements that were added by way of New 
 Orleans, turned their faces to the wilderness. 
 
 The outfitting camp, near Winter Quarters, pre- 
 
 147 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 sented a vivid picture, strange and thrilling to those 
 accustomed only to quiet scenes and pleasing land- 
 scapes. It was full of absorbing interest to Carissa. 
 
 "What these poor people have endured and suf- 
 fered!" she said, as she walked among them a few 
 days after their arrival. 
 
 "Yes, and they've got a lot more to go through, too, 
 before they reach the goal; and yet their past life has 
 been such that almost any change is for the better." 
 
 They approached a group gathered merrily about a 
 wagon that had evidently made the trip overland 
 and returned, and that was now receiving certain 
 needed repairs. 
 
 "This beats sitting all day cross-legged on a bench, 
 eh, Jock:^" 
 
 "Is that you, Maggie? It hasn't tamed you much 
 that I can see." 
 
 A stooping, dirty, perspiring figure looked up with 
 a sheepish grin at the buxom, full-faced girl who had 
 accosted him, and who, with arms spread broadly, was 
 giving a grotesque caricature of a bandy-legged tailor, 
 grimacing hideously at his task of coat-binding. The 
 girl's costume was coarse but neat, her hands were 
 roughened with manual labor, but her face was pleas- 
 ing in its saucy boldness and unmistakable good 
 nature. She was evidently in full enjoyment of the 
 novelty and freedom of her situation. She was accom- 
 panied by two or three others, who showed none of the 
 pinched look usually associated with close confine- 
 ment on ship-board and short rations. 
 
 To complete the group, though standing a little to 
 one side, was a tall, gaunt woman of middle age, with 
 a shawl drawn around her head, the national costume 
 
 148 
 
WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 of Swedish women of the lower classes. A thin- 
 faced babe in her arms was nursing spasmodically at 
 the flabby, carelessly exposed breast. There was 
 something touching in her attitude as she stood there 
 careless of the merriment, looking out with dull, 
 weary eyes upon the desolate stretch of waste land to 
 the westward. 
 
 At a distance several women were calling to each 
 other, over their wash-tubs. A clothes-line was bright 
 with many-colored garments, and several children 
 were seen tugging with all their strength as they car- 
 ried heavy pails of water from the spring. 
 
 Hard by stood a group of Elders, who had just 
 emerged from the doorway of a rudely constructed 
 log cabin, and were talking and gesticulating as though 
 discussing matters of moment. 
 
 Horses saddled and bridled stood near; wagons were 
 in process of loading. Beyond, herds of cattle were 
 finding short pickings, and were kept in order by boys 
 mounted on nimble-footed ponies. 
 
 Several men were engaged in the occupation of 
 cleaning their guns and preparing them for use, while 
 a nondescript group of idlers, who had evidently been 
 acquainted with a variety of occupations, were being 
 instructed in the use of this carnal but necessary 
 weapon of defense. 
 
 Two men, brothers, tall, straight-limbed, clear- 
 eyed, with the ruddy Saxon skin and hair, each with 
 a short, curly, sandy beard, and an expression of 
 animal innocence on their faces, were looking toward 
 the group of girls first mentioned, and were talking 
 together in low tones, with an occasional chuckle of 
 
 amusement. 
 
 149 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Oh, but it's good to leave those nasty, cramped 
 ship's quarters behind us," suddenly exclaimed 
 Maggie, ceasing her pantomime, and stretching her 
 arms upward in a gesture of relief. For the moment 
 she seemed the very personification of this entire 
 movement, from the cribbed'narrowness of a meager 
 unsatisfied existence in the densely crowded purlieus 
 of Old World cities, or factory villages, out into the 
 broad, free, untrammelled life of the great West. 
 
 The woman, with her nursing baby still tugging at 
 her lean breast, turned her glance wearily upon the 
 group, and then with an apathetic air of mournful 
 patience, moved listlessly away to the spot where her 
 husband had heaped together their assortment of 
 bundles and had bidden her wait. 
 
 Eaton Brand had caught with delight the suggested 
 symbolism of the girl's spontaneous gesture. He 
 turned to convey the thought to his wife. He saw 
 her following with sympathetic eyes the figure of the 
 woman who seemed so hopeless of finding anything 
 in life worth living for. Brand kept silent. 
 
 "You'll find yourself cramped enough in this old 
 box, before the next three months are over." 
 
 The voice came from under the wagon, and w^as 
 broken by the sound of hammering as the man went 
 on with his work. 
 
 "That's where you fool yourself. I'm going to 
 walk every step of the way. Aren't we, girls? Elder 
 Carson says that the men and the women, too, that 
 are strong enough will have to walk. You don't catch 
 me doubling up my legs on top of a hen-coop, when 
 I've got a chance to stretch 'em." 
 
 Brand approached the wagon. 
 
 150 
 
SHE SEEMED THE VERY PERSONIFICATION OF THIS 
 ENTIRE MOVEMENT. 
 
WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 "Well, brother — ?" He paused, inquiringly. 
 
 "My name is John Quibble, sir." The workman 
 ceased his hammering, and sank back upon his 
 haunches. 
 
 The girls laughed and looked at the newcomer, 
 unawed by his dignity and show of command, although 
 they drew back a little for him to approach, and then 
 glanced with more curiosity at the fittingly attired 
 beautiful woman by his side. 
 
 "Thank you — and my name is Eaton Brand. You 
 are to go out with my company, I believe. Shall you 
 have everything in readiness, Brother Quibble? You 
 know we have set the time of starting for to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "Oh, we're all ready now. There was just a little 
 tinkering on this cross-bar here. I'm new to this sort 
 of business, and don't know much about this kind of 
 tool," and he pointed with his hammer to a large 
 bruise on his thumb. 
 
 "Give him a goose and a pair of shears and he's all 
 right," spoke up Maggie. "Aren't you, Jock?" and 
 the girls tittered teasingly. 
 
 He grinned up at them, and then said, "But we'll 
 have everything on to-night, and be ready at the word." 
 
 "All right. Brother Quibble. I'll put you in charge 
 of this wagon. Do these girls go in your party?" 
 
 "I guess they might as well. We've all come from 
 Manchester together. That one's name's Maggie 
 Morey. Her father and mother are along with two 
 young ones. Those other two are Lizzie and Carrie 
 Cassady. Their brother is over there talking with 
 Elder Carson." He pointed awkwardly with his 
 bruised thumb. 
 
 151 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "That's good. Your party is very nearly made up. 
 You need one more, though. Every wagon must take 
 ten persons, you know." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't mention the old man. He ain't much 
 good, a little weak in the spine; but I couldn't leave 
 him behind. He's my father, you know, and I had 
 to bring him or he'd a died." He spoke apologetic- 
 ally and with a whimsical plaintiveness. "He can't 
 do anything, but he don't weigh much, and we can 
 stow him away comfortably. He's set an awful store 
 on comin' out to Zion." 
 
 "That's right," said Brand, turning away. "Always 
 look out for your old father, he looked out for you 
 when you were helpless. I trust you to see that every- 
 thing is in readiness. Come, Carissa," and with a 
 pleasant nod backward, he continued his round of 
 inspection. 
 
 "That class will make the best colonists," he said. 
 "It's all new to them, and they'll bungle things at 
 first, but they have hardiness and good nature, and 
 they'll get on." 
 
 "Did you notice that poor woman with her half- 
 starved baby?" Carissa asked. 
 
 "Yes, dearest, there are many like that. But the 
 joy of living will return." 
 
 "Will she go with our company? I should like to 
 talk to her." 
 
 "No, I think not. They have nothing. They will 
 have to be fitted out, when the emigrant-fund money 
 comes." 
 
 "Let us take her with us. Put her husband in 
 charge of one of the wagons. Let her ride with the 
 other women. Can't we do it?" 
 
 152 
 
WINTER QUARTERS 
 
 "Dearest, your sympathies would destroy all disci- 
 pline. There are many others in the same sad case." 
 
 "But I feel I should like to do it. Her face will 
 haunt me, I think, if we leave her behind." 
 
 Their glances met, and Brand laughed, as he said, 
 "You are the best girl in the world, Carissa. You 
 shall have your own way." 
 
 153 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE START OVERLAND 
 
 Carissa thought that the crossing of the Missouri 
 River would perhaps open up a new world of adven- 
 ture. They had entered the land of the Pottawatomies, 
 tribes of Indians who had their hunting grounds 
 along the valley of the Elkhorn and Platte Rivers, and 
 who were bold, murderous thieves. She had heard 
 stories of their attacks and had seen the careful 
 inspection of fire-arms and ammunition that took 
 place at the outfitting camp. 
 
 But so far the worst enemies encountered were great 
 swarms of huge, voracious mosquitoes. They settled 
 not only upon the folk but also upon the cattle, who 
 became restive. Nor was it strange that, with inex- 
 perienced drivers, many of whom had never seen an 
 ox-goad before in their lives, and who were slow in 
 being initiated into the mysteries of "geeing" and 
 "hawing," they were soon entangled in almost hope- 
 less confusion. 
 
 On the first day. Quibble, or "Brother Jock," as he 
 had been dubbed by Maggie, became so confused by 
 the necessity of fighting the intolerable pests that he 
 advanced too far in front of his "lead oxen" and, with 
 frantic flourishing of his arms, so frightened them that 
 they swerved violently from the path. They were in an 
 awkward bit of road, where the ground sloped sharply 
 
 154 
 
THE START 0\^ERLAND 
 
 from the track. A shrill scream eaused Carissa to 
 look that way, and she beheld the cumbrous wagon 
 slowly toppling over. 
 
 Brand, who was not far distant, superintending 
 affairs from horse-back, hurried to the scene. He 
 succeeded in averting the stampede of the cattle, but 
 was too late to save the falling wagon. 
 
 There was no one in the wagon at the time, except 
 Jock's father, and the poor old man, who was quite 
 too feeble to help himself, went down with the crash, 
 and was fatally crushed. 
 
 It was pitiful to hear the groaning of the wounded 
 man, and to witness the horror and frantic grief of 
 poor Jock. 
 
 Maggie had been the first to tear aside the wagon 
 covering, lift the weight of boxes, and vainly attempt 
 to soothe back life into the broken body. 
 
 "Quick, get some water and spirits if you can find 
 any. Stand back all of you. Oh, ^Ir. Brand, I am 
 afraid he is dying. Help us to lift him out of this, 
 and see if there is any hope." 
 
 Their hands met in the performance of this humane 
 task. ]\Iaggie looked up into his face, the solemn 
 awe, with which we all regard the snapping of life's 
 thread, stealing the mischief from her eyes and rob- 
 bing her cheeks of the freshness of their bloom. 
 
 After the wagon was righted, the long train started 
 onward; and that night a grave was dug, and the 
 solemn service of the dead made the wilderness seem 
 still more mysterious and terrible to the imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 That night Carissa was glad to feel the strong arms 
 of her husband about her, as she said: 
 
 155 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "How unutterably sad to die so horribly in this awful 
 waste land and to make one's grave where it must be 
 left behind by all we love." 
 
 "Yes. I'm thinking there will soon be no need for 
 any one to lose their way in this wilderness. We shall 
 mark it with the graves of our dear, dead people," said 
 Brand, with some emotion. 
 
 On the third day, which was Saturday, they reached 
 the Elkhorn. Several wheels were broken. So the 
 wagons were lightened of their loads and temporarily 
 supported by means of heavy timbers, and when camp 
 was made, on the east side of the river, two or three 
 wheelwrights were set to work making repairs. The 
 cattle, under a strong guard, were driven to an excel- 
 lent pasturage, and the camp was set in order. 
 
 It made a striking scene as the night fell upon the 
 landscape, and camp-fires were lighted, and the people 
 began to gather themselves in groups and sing the 
 songs of Zion. 
 
 Without question, no great migratory movement of 
 which we have any record, was ever more picturesque 
 or possessed more purely romantic elements. Here 
 were camped men, women, and children, thousands of 
 miles from home, hundreds of miles from their desti- 
 nation, cut adrift from every past association, obeying 
 the call of leaders whom they had never seen, inex- 
 perienced to meet the emergencies which would con- 
 front them, aware that they were thrusting themselves 
 through an inhospitable region overrun by a savage, 
 hostile and cunning race, and yet lifting their hearts 
 in praise and their voices in song, making a night's 
 tabernacle in the wilderness, with a sense of security 
 under heaven's protection, that was sublime. 
 
 156 
 
THE START OVERLAND 
 
 Look upon these people as we may, despise them as 
 we may for their ignorant credulity, we must at least 
 believe in the sincerity that found expression in 
 unchecked devotion and confident hymns of praise, in 
 the midst of appalling dangers and discomforts griev- 
 ous to be borne. 
 
 Whatever character their faith assumed after they 
 committed themselves to the moulding touch of the 
 temple priesthood, here in the wilderness, it was sim- 
 ple, childlike, free from austerities, spontaneous, 
 uncorrupted and beautiful. It was strong enough and 
 deep enough to be perfectly natural. It mixed itself 
 up fearlessly with the spirit of adventure and enter- 
 prise, and gave to the common transactions of every- 
 day life an aspect of liveliness and color. 
 
 The Sabbath was remembered quietly, if not rigidly. 
 They had camped, as they had marched, in strict 
 order. Each party of ten had pitched its own tents. 
 Each company of lOO had selected those who were to 
 guard and tend the cattle, and perform the necessary 
 labor for security and repose. The entire camp was 
 under Brand's supervision, but he received valuable 
 suggestions from Elder Carson, who had made the 
 journey several times before. 
 
 "It's a mistake to shoe those draught cattle at the 
 start. It would be better to wait and shoe them at the 
 first show of lameness. The shoes are cumbersome 
 and awkward, and many of the oxen would not need 
 them till they reach the rocky divide," said Carson. 
 
 "Which is better, iron or leather?" inquired Brand. 
 
 "1 think gutta-percha would prove the best mate- 
 rial. I wanted to try it this season. At a few 
 moments' notice it could be softened and moulded 
 
 157 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 about the critter's foot. It could be left there until 
 the hoof had grown and recovered its hardness, and 
 * then easily removed. There'd be no need to throw 
 them, or lift them from their legs, to put it on, 
 either." 
 
 "Why did you want us all to get goggles, at Kanes- 
 ville, old man?" said Brand, laughing. 
 
 "I guess you'll know without any telling, when we 
 strike the Platte and the hot winds. Dust and sun- 
 shine, with some sand thrown in, make a pretty good 
 mixture for the eyes, if you want 'em blinded," 
 remarked Carson, dryly. 
 
 "Is there much danger from the Indians?" Brand 
 asked. 
 
 "Not if you keep a sharp lookout. If they think 
 there is a chance for them, they will trail you day and 
 night for weeks, in hope of a surprise; but they are 
 cowardly devils, and have learned that our people are 
 always ready. Be vigilant and don't let small parties 
 stray away." 
 
 They were returning from an inspection of the cat- 
 tle, and were near the camp when a group of girls 
 appeared, laughing gaily, swinging their arms, and 
 approaching a cluster of low trees by the water's edge. 
 Foremost among them was Maggie. She carried her- 
 self with a free, careless swing, which matched well 
 with her merry humor and unpretending good nature. 
 Brand liked to look at her, liked to talk to her. She 
 attracted him, and the attraction was not exactly 
 spiritual. 
 
 "Good morning, Maggie," he said. "Have you 
 seen Brother Quibble? You must hearten him up a 
 bit. The poor fellow feels his misfortune deeply." 
 
 158. 
 
THE START OVERLAND 
 
 "He'll get over it in a day or two. It ain't that he 
 set such store by the old man, but he feels that it was 
 his fault. He says he can never drive the team again," 
 answered IMaggie, flushing slightly. 
 
 "Nonsense, it wasn't his fault. They're all green 
 at the business. It will at least teach him not to play 
 wind-mill again in front of his oxen. I'll talk with 
 him. Where are you girls going? You must not stray 
 far from the camp, you know." 
 
 They laughed at each other embarrassedly. 
 
 "There's no harm in going over to those bushes, is 
 there? We want a bath, and they are quite sheltered." 
 Maggie pointed to the little thicket. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right," broke in Carson. "Shall I 
 stand guard and see that no one interrupts the per- 
 formance?" 
 
 Maggie tossed her head disdainfully, and saying, 
 "Come on, girls," disappeared among the low trees. 
 
 "They're fine strapping wenches," said Carson, as 
 they proceeded toward the camp. "They'll be 
 snapped up mighty quick when they reach the valley. 
 Shouldn't wonder if Brother Brigham looked them 
 over a bit. One's enough for me, though, until I can 
 afford it better." 
 
 He spoke as lightly as though he were engaged in 
 bringing a drove of heifers to a hungry market. His 
 words and tone grated on Brand's sensibilities. He 
 suddenly became unpleasantly conscious that he had 
 made little or no progress in preparing Carissa's mind 
 for the terrible truth that awaited her. 
 
 "The beginning of apostasy is in the refusal to 
 recognize the authority of the holy priesthood," he 
 said to her that evening, after leading up to the point, 
 
 159 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 deftly. "And this refusal has always been followed by 
 blind disobedience and the withdrawal of God's spirit." 
 
 He found a ready assent to this abstract proposition. 
 Poor Carissa had never found her heart inclined to 
 mutiny. It was held too securely in the sweet and 
 firm grasp of a satisfying love. 
 
 "The time may come, dearest, when you will try to 
 evade the application of this teaching," he continued, 
 looking at her seriously. "The Lord's ways are 
 inscrutable, He does not always command in accord- 
 ance with our preconceived notions. Would you obey, 
 if He wished you to renounce the thing you hold most 
 precious in life?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked, in a doubtful tone. 
 
 "Nothing, dearest," he said, lightly, "nothing that 
 you hold precious is in danger. With you it has been 
 a joy to sever every tie, and to face hardship and 
 danger that your lot may be cast with God's people. 
 I wonder would you have obeyed as readily, if the 
 command had caused an intolerable wrench of the 
 heart-strings?" 
 
 She was silent. Her eyes sought his face, and then 
 wandered to the little bed where her boy lay in slum- 
 ber, a smile upon his face, his bare dimpled arm 
 stretched upward and encircling his beautiful flax- 
 crowned head. 
 
 She was looking upon her world, and wondering 
 what any world could mean to her without their sweet 
 companionship. She buried her face in her hands and 
 sobbed. 
 
 "God would not be so cruel. If He were, I am afraid 
 it is in my heart to disobey Him." 
 
 He was alarmed at her agitation. 
 
 160 
 
THE START OVERLAND 
 
 "Hush, dearest," he said, "I was wrong to disturb 
 you with foolish suppositions. Dismiss these fancies. 
 God is not cruel. Sometimes we do not understand 
 His ways; but never doubt, never question for a 
 moment that His will is concerned in working out for 
 us a weight of happiness greater than we have ever 
 dreamed." 
 
 As she smiled again in restored confidence, and said 
 how foolish she was to give way to idle fears, he left 
 her, and slowly made the rounds of the camp where 
 they had halted for the night. 
 
 "She will accept it, but it will sadden her. It may 
 cast a shadow upon her faith that I shall be powerless 
 to remove. She will wonder why I have given the 
 fact such firm and constant denial. Can I make the 
 case clear to her, when her heart begins to accuse me 
 of lack of faith and sincerity? Yet it must be done. 
 Good God, what a situation!" 
 
 Thereafter he seized every opportunity to set before 
 her the absolute authority of the church, whose dictum 
 was final in every question of right and wrong; 
 whose decisions were the utterance of divine wis- 
 dom and must command unquestioning obedience. 
 He showed her that the current morality of a God-re- 
 jecting world furnished no standard by which the Saints 
 of God would be judged. All this with infinite tact, 
 patience, and magnetic eloquence; and yet with what 
 disappointing results. 
 
 Carissa listened, perplexed sometimes, but rarely 
 questioning. 
 
 She lost somewhat of her gaiety in the stress of new 
 ideas, and, when left in the slow toiling wagon 
 alone with Mother Brand and Moroni, might be seen 
 
 161 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 looking out over the endless roll of prairie, with a 
 wistful look in her beautiful eyes. 
 
 Brand did not realize that he was building up in her 
 mind a dread of the church, so all-powerful, and of the 
 God, who spoke through the church with such grim, 
 unswerving authority; nor did he see that the character 
 of her faith was undergoing a subtle change. 
 
 One night there came suddenly before her a vision 
 of the sweet, heather-scented fields of Cornwall, the 
 delightful shelter of the old ash trees in picturesque 
 groupings, where she had wandered in the care-free 
 days of girlhood, the old home with all its peaceful 
 happy associations, the old faces long loved and now, 
 alas, almost forgotten. 
 
 The abruptness of the vision, its vividness, startled 
 her as with a flash of lightning. 
 
 Something seemed to be calling the old Carissa to 
 awaken. She barkened — the night wind whistled 
 through the rude canvas covering of the wagon where 
 she had been sleeping. There was heard the barking 
 of a few thievish camp-followers, the grumbling tones 
 of the teamster out in the darkness bidding them 
 "begone" — the restless stirring of the cattle momen- 
 tarily startled and lumbering to their feet. All these 
 had become familiar night noises but they seemed 
 strange to her. 
 
 She tried to piece together again the fragments of 
 her vision. A strange feeling of homesickness came 
 over her; the sense of loneliness as of a child that had 
 wandered far from home and finds itself in alien sur- 
 roundings, possessed her; and then she suddenly re- 
 membered — that this was her life, and that she was 
 happy in it. 
 
 162 
 
THE START OVERLAND 
 
 She drew back the flap of the curtain and looked 
 out. All was still! How far away the stars appeared! 
 How mysteriously melancholy the deep impenetrable 
 shadows of the night! The regular sound of gentle 
 breathing at her side completely recalled her — she 
 turned toward the little form snuggling against her, 
 buried her face in his soft, warm hair and sobbing 
 gently, she scarcely knew why, fell into a deep re- 
 freshing sleep. 
 
 163 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 The crossing of the Elkhorn, which was undertaken 
 on Monday morning, proved no light task. A ferry- 
 boat, large enough to transport two wagons at a time 
 and that had been used by former parties, was found 
 moored to the bank. While the wagons were being 
 brought down to the shore. Brand ordered that a rope 
 should be stretched across the stream. A lighter rope 
 with a running noose enabled two men to guide the 
 boat and hold it against the current, while others with 
 oars and long poles propelled it across with its heavy 
 freight. 
 
 The cattle swam across. David Sutter and the 
 herders, well mounted and armed with prods and 
 goads, gathered them in little groups upon the shore. 
 It was very evident that the oxen did not relish the 
 prospect of the rushing current, whirling its dark mass 
 of eddying, gurgling water before them, for they dis- 
 played decided reluctance to begin the trip. 
 
 It was a scene full of color and life. Those who 
 were not employed in other tasks gathered to wit- 
 ness it. 
 
 At the edge of the water the cattle paused defiantly, 
 their front legs braced in an attitude of firm resist- 
 ance. The men and boys with shouting and blows 
 sought to force them in. Feeling their footing give 
 way on the brink of the current, the frightened ani- 
 mals faced about and strove to return; they struggled 
 
 164 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 in wavering confusion, and a stampede seemed im- 
 minent. 
 
 Then ensued a battle between human will and un- 
 reasoning brute force. The hubbub was terrific; those 
 on the bank took part in it. The "geeing" and "haw- 
 ing" of the raw teamsters and the awkward prodding 
 of the goads were reinforced by shouting, yelling, 
 screaming, and vociferous pelting and pounding by 
 the crowd upon the bank. The rearmost steers, ter- 
 rified by the din, pressed heavily upon those in front, 
 who could no longer resist, and at last, one by one, 
 they took the plunge. A few more ineffectual efforts 
 to return, and then the whole herd struck out across 
 the current. 
 
 Carissa held her breath with terror, while Maggie 
 looked on with delight, as Tom Sutter leaped to the 
 back of a huge bull floundering in the water, bent 
 upon getting back to land. With a sharp goad he 
 turned his head across the current and forced him on. 
 
 "Ain't that splendid?" exclaimed Maggie. 
 
 "No," answered Carissa. "There is too much dan- 
 ger in it to please me." 
 
 The routine of travel soon became a matter of 
 course. They made about fifteen miles a day. There 
 were frequent stoppages for broken wagons. The 
 most common accidents were loose tires and shat- 
 tered wheels. There was no sickness, and all were in 
 the best of spirits. Parties on horseback rode forward 
 each day to select a place for camping, as it was essen- 
 tial that pasturage for the sheep and oxen should be 
 secured. 
 
 When they began to climb the sand hills near the 
 Loup River, the wind' was blowing furiously, and the 
 
 165 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 wisdom of Elder Carson's advice was made evident. 
 Goggles and veils were in great demand, and those 
 who did not have them suffered extremely, for the 
 air was filled with sharp particles of sand that were 
 driven with blinding force by the wind. The oxen, 
 however, toiled steadily onward, having become by 
 this time well broken in, and many of the pilgrims 
 sheltered themselves behind the wagons, and with 
 bent heads, were almost suffocated with dust. 
 
 Riding past Quibble's wagon, Brand saw the group 
 of women that composed the party, following closely 
 with bowed heads, while a monotonous, mournful mur- 
 mur came from one in the midst. 
 
 "What mumming is this?" he wondered, and then 
 caught the words in grief-stricken reiteration: 
 
 "I'm sorry he died! I'm sorry he died!" 
 
 He pulled up sharply. "What's that?" he said. 
 
 A laughing face was turned up to him. Maggie's 
 eyes sparkled with mirth, as she replied: 
 
 "Did you never see an old country funeral, where 
 real mourners are scarce, and they have to use hired 
 ones? This business reminded me of it, and the old 
 refrain came quite naturally." 
 
 He had ere this felt the contagion of her high spir- 
 its and cheery good-nature. She was the life of the 
 camp, and the camp-fire where she presided was a 
 favorite resort for the wearied and disheartened as 
 well as for the laughter-loving and gay. 
 
 Occasionally Brand joined the group, and enjoyed 
 her merry sallies of unconscious humor, born of per- 
 fect health and a wholesome nature. 
 
 He now regulated the pace of his horse to the slow 
 toiling of the heavy wagon. Quibble had resumed his 
 
 166 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 work as teamster, and his well practiced words of com- 
 mand came monotonously but rhythmically to their 
 ears. Morey and young Cassady were on ahead with 
 the sheep herders. 
 
 "This flurry will soon be over," he said, pointing 
 forward. "The crest of the hill is just beyond, and 
 then we have a fine level road, I am told, as far as 
 Prairie Creek." 
 
 "Won't it be delightful to plunge one's face and 
 arms into the clear, cool water. We certainly shall 
 need it after this." She tossed her hair back from 
 her eyes. "See — we're all one color now, ashy gray, 
 but my face feels as though it had been pricked by a 
 million needles." 
 
 He was watching her, with unconscious admiration: 
 her sturdy stride, her wealth of animal life. The pow- 
 dery sand had left a delicate, creamy coating on the 
 rich coloring of her cheeks; the half closing of the 
 eyes, in instinctive protection against the flying par- 
 ticles, permitted the long, thick lashes, powdery also, 
 to be seen in all their beauty. But it was her attitude 
 that attracted him, the unstudied grace of every 
 movement, and what was more than a suggestion of 
 ripening womanhood, that was conveyed by every out- 
 line, tone and look. 
 
 "Not yet, perhaps, but soon she will ripen into a 
 woman of the most seductive kind," thought Brand. 
 
 Touching his horse, he rode on to the wagon where 
 Carissa and his mother were sitting. 
 
 "Here, Carissa, hand me out the youngster, will 
 you? That vile sand storm is now behind us. I'm 
 going ahead, to see how Morey and the men are get- 
 ting on with the sheep." 
 
 167 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Hold him carefully," cried Carissa, as she held out 
 the crowing youngster. 
 
 "Never you fear. He'll be as safe in my arms as in 
 his bed, and it's time he was learning to ride." 
 
 At the foot of the hill was a small stream, crossed 
 by a narrow bridge. As the ascent was very steep, 
 Brand instructed the teamsters to allow no persons to 
 remain in the wagons, and requested Carson to stop 
 and see that the instructions were attended to. 
 
 On he rode, Moroni, delighted with the quick mo- 
 tion, tossing his arms and crowing with pleasure. 
 When some distance ahead of the foremost wagon, he 
 caught sight of a herd of antelope far to the right, 
 near the foot of a low range of hills. 
 
 "We'll pitch camp early and send the boys out for 
 fresh meat," he said to himself. 
 
 • Soon he caught sight of the hot sheep on the trail, 
 snatching where they could at short bunches of grass 
 and overhanging bushes. 
 
 "When you cross the next stream slow up a little, 
 Brother Morey, and let them feed. I think there must 
 be a good camping place over yonder." 
 
 He pointed to where a line of green indicated the 
 presence of a good stream. 
 
 "If you have any men with you that know how to use 
 the rifle, you had better tell them to be in readiness. 
 I will send Sutter and two or three others from the 
 wagons, and perhaps we can bag an antelope or two." 
 
 Morey looked up heavily. There was scarcely a 
 trace of animation in his face, certainly no such inter- 
 est as might be expected at such an announcement. 
 
 "Very well," he said, and directed his attention to 
 
 the sheep. 
 
 168 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 "She does not get her vivacity from him," he 
 thought. "He is the surliest fellow in the crowd." 
 
 And then as he looked down into his boy's laughing 
 face, "I wonder what heredity and circumstance will 
 do for you, my lad." 
 
 He rode slowly back and calling Sutter to him, 
 asked him to take charge of the hunting party. 
 
 It was about two hours before sundown when the 
 company of antelope hunters left the wagons. For- 
 tunately the wind was toward the river. Keeping it as 
 nearly as possible in their faces, they approached the 
 herd, the train moving on in the meanwhile to the 
 designated camping ground. 
 
 It was dusk before the camp arrangements were per- 
 fected for the night. The breeze had died down, the 
 air was hot and oppressive, few fires had been built, 
 and those only for necessary cooking and to keep off 
 the swarms of mosquitoes that came up from the river. 
 Brand and Carissa were standing by the wagon. Sev- 
 eral shots had been heard some time before, in the 
 distance. 
 
 "They must have got something, or they would have 
 been here before this," remarked Brand. 
 
 Suddenly a rifle shot rang out close to the camp. 
 A blood-curdling yell, as from a hundred savage 
 throats, sounded from the direction of the cattle cor- 
 ral followed by several shots. 
 
 "Oh, what is it?" cried Carissa, clutching her hus- 
 band's arm. 
 
 He lifted her hurriedly into the wagon, and reached 
 for his rifle. 
 
 "Stay there, dear, get clear in," he said, quickly. 
 
 Two or three men rushed in; they were some of the 
 
 169 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 cattle herders. "Indians!" they called hoarsely. They 
 were exhausted with hard running. 
 
 "Here, Maggie," cried Brand, as he noticed her 
 standing in the light of the nearest camp-fire, her head 
 turned as if listening, "call the women of your party, 
 and get in here with Mrs. Brand, quick!" 
 
 The regular camp arrangements were well calculated 
 for defense. Brand knew this, and that, in all proba- 
 bility, no danger threatened the emigrants. His 
 thought was of the cattle, and of the probable 
 defense that would be made in the absence of the ser- 
 geant of the guard, Sutter, who was by far their most 
 capable man. 
 
 Calling together the three or four men who had 
 appeared with arms in their hands, he led them in the 
 direction from which the shots had come. He had 
 gone but a short distance when a terror-stricken figure 
 that proved to be young Cassady, appeared with the 
 unwelcome news that about one hundred of the cattle 
 had been cut off, and were being driven by a band of 
 mounted Indians towards the foot hills. 
 
 "They were on us before we knew it," almost sobbed 
 the poor fellow. "I fired my gun, but I know I didn't 
 hit anything, and before I knew it they were off." 
 
 "There, there, be a man. Bring me my horse, will 
 you? Back to camp, now; we need a bigger party. We 
 must get these cattle back if possible," cried Brand. 
 
 A party was soon formed of eight or ten untried but 
 brave and willing men, and, bidding those left behind 
 to be on the alert and keep up heart. Brand led them 
 out into the darkness. 
 
 There was little sleep in the camp that night. Car- 
 issa sat thinking of her husband and the perils he 
 
 170 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 might be encountering. Maggie and her party had 
 retired to their own wagon, which was drawn up in 
 close proximity. The whole camp seemed strangely 
 quiet, as if suddenly deserted by its inhabitants. She 
 felt the loneliness, and at times her anxiety and appre- 
 hension became intense. 
 
 Gradually the camp began to be astir. The usual 
 occupations were resumed. Carson called the people 
 together for worship, and then directed the teamsters 
 to prepare for the march. Carissa overheard the 
 order, and hastened to him. 
 
 "Must we go on before they come back? ' asked 
 
 Carissa. 
 
 "It would be no good waiting. Sister Brand. They 
 can join us as well on the march, or at the next stop- 
 ping place. We don't know what direction they've 
 taken; and you may be dead sure if they've gotten 
 the cattle, or have to retreat, they'll strike for the 
 river. They may be ahead of us now." 
 
 "But David Sutter and his boy— they were on foot, 
 and have not returned. Surely we should wait until 
 they join us!" 
 
 "I have sent some men out to look for them, but 
 I'm afraid they won't find their scalps," he remarked, 
 significantly. 
 
 Carissa shivered with a new kind of fear. Her 
 imagination had already conjured up every kind of 
 danger that might confront her husband, save this one. 
 
 Just then Quibble and Maggie came along, walking 
 beside the wagon. The girl suddenly pointed to the 
 north, and exclaimed, "I wonder what it is? It looks 
 like a black thunder cloud, settled upon the edge of 
 
 the hills." 
 
 171 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Carissa looked in the direction indicated. "It's 
 smoke," she said. "It must be a prairie fire." 
 
 Quibble awkwardly climbed upon the wagon and 
 peered around the canvas cover in the hope of obtain- 
 ing a more extended view. 
 
 "Smoke it is. I've heard as how them fires some- 
 times sweep from one end of the country to the other. 
 I wonder if I hadn't better tell Elder Carson? There 
 is quite a breeze blowing," he obser\'ed. 
 
 "But it's blowing the other way, you silly. There 
 is no danger here," exclaimed Maggie, and then to 
 Carissa, "I thought I saw a band of men and some 
 cattle off there to the left of the smoke, just before 
 you came. Perhaps it was Mr. Brand." 
 
 Carissa's heart gave a great throb as she murmured, 
 "Thank God if it was!" 
 
 By the middle of the afternoon a good camping 
 place was reached, and Carson decided to outspan for 
 the night. They had left the trail and had found a 
 resting place a little way up a small stream that flowed 
 gently between slightly wooded banks. 
 
 As Carissa was walking about the camp that even- 
 ing, betraying her anxiety by the restlessness of her 
 demeanor and the pallor of her face, there came 
 to her the Swedish woman whom she had befriended 
 at Winter Quarters. A new look of sympathetic 
 understanding was in her face; she had her baby 
 in her tireless arms, but this time he was asleep, 
 his poor little pinched face hidden in the folds of her 
 shawl. 
 
 Carissa had learned but little concerning her, except 
 that her name was Hilda Swensen, that she had come 
 from the grip of grinding poverty, that she was as 
 
 172 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 grateful to her benefactress as her starved nature 
 would permit her to be, that she seemed to love with 
 most passionate love the poor little bit of her own life 
 that she always carried in her arms, and that she 
 watched the stolid coming and going of her husband 
 with the look of a woman given over to despair. She 
 had learned to speak a few words of English, but was 
 usually reluctant to use them. 
 
 "He — your man — will come back," she said simply 
 but positively. 
 
 "Yes, sister, if God will protect him." 
 
 "You have been very good to me. See, he sleeps 
 much now." She drew back the shawl and looked 
 into the little fellow's face, and then held him close 
 with a quick, passionate gesture. "He would die if we 
 should wait back there. We had little to eat." 
 
 She had said what she wanted to say and would 
 have turned away, but Carissa held her. She wished 
 to draw out the story of her sorrow, not curiously, but 
 that she might help her. 
 
 "Is your husband happy now? He will get good 
 work in the new land, and you will prosper." 
 
 The old look of hopelessness came back to the 
 woman's face. 
 
 "I know not. All is changed since last year when 
 the Elders talk with my man. He say he will have a 
 new wife — one strong — healthy — young — from these 
 girls." 
 
 "What does he mean?" asked Carissa, horrified and 
 indignant. "He surely would not cast you off? You, 
 the mother of his child? Besides he would have no 
 right!" 
 
 "Oh, yes! I know not, but Ole say he can have 
 
 173 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 two, three wives now to do the work when he takes 
 up land." 
 
 "But that is_ nonsense, Hilda. He says that to 
 tease you. He is cruel to say such things, but you 
 should not believe him." 
 
 But Hilda shook her head sadly. "I know not," 
 she repeated, "but what he say, he mean." She went 
 away, as though to speak longer would be painful, 
 leaving Carissa indignant and perplexed. 
 
 "I will speak to Eaton about it and he shall reassure 
 her, and give that brute a lesson." 
 
 Just then a boy came running into camp; two or 
 three others were at his heels. 
 
 "They're coming," he shouted. "Some men driv- 
 ing cattle are coming up the trail," 
 
 Immediately the camp was astir, every occupation 
 was abandoned, the whole company rushed along the 
 course of the stream, until a clear view could be had 
 of the trail stretching away to the eastward. 
 
 There they beheld a sight that gladdened every 
 heart — a great herd of oxen was being driven directly 
 toward them. Carissa was sure that she could recog- 
 nize the form of her husband among the men who were 
 driving them. She turned to Maggie, who had run by 
 her side and was now standing with her hands upon 
 her hips and a happy look upon her face, and said: 
 
 "Thank God, they have come! Oh, Maggie, I 
 have been so anxious!" 
 
 "I knew they would be successful. Mr. Brand is 
 not one to be beaten!" responded the girl, with a note 
 of triumph in her voice that smote Carissa's heart with 
 a sudden pang. 
 
 And soon the weary, panting cattle passed through 
 
 174 
 
BITS OF COLOR BY THE WAY 
 
 to their quarters. As Brand came near, he leaped 
 from his horse and caught Carissa in his arms. "Well, 
 dearest, we're awful hungry, but we've taught those 
 bloodthirsty thieves a lesson they'll not soon forget," 
 he said, while Carissa was all blushes and happy 
 tears. 
 
 175 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BREAKING GROUND 
 
 An interesting tableau was formed round the camp- 
 fire that night. Brand was seated on a box by the side 
 of a rude table; Carissa was on his left, looking up 
 into his face, contented that he had returned in safety; 
 Maggie was in the front rank of emigrants who were 
 seated picturesquely on the ground; Hilda Swensen 
 standing in the background, nursing her baby and fol- 
 lowing the movements of her husband, who was sheep- 
 ishly talking with a group of girls; Quibble pretending 
 occupation in making repairs upon the canvas cover 
 of his wagon, but continually stealing furtive glances 
 at Maggie's glowing countenance. Other groups 
 there were with equally divided interest; many of the 
 women were knitting busily or engaged in patching 
 and darning, while most of the men had some little 
 finger work on hand. Tom Sutter, the center of a 
 smaller group on the outskirts, was still eating vora- 
 ciously. 
 
 As Elder Carson came in from posting the guards, 
 and looked upon the scene, which was lighted by the 
 smoking torches and the shooting flames of the camp- 
 fire, and contrasted it with the unbroken background 
 of the night, he, too, felt a touch of its strange and 
 weird magic. His eyes caught the clear-cut outline of 
 Carissa's beautiful profile. 
 
 "There's witchery about her beauty," he said to 
 
 176 
 
BREAKING GROUND 
 
 himself. "She'll be a big addition to Brother 
 Brigham's parties. I wonder if he will covet Bath- 
 sheba, and send Uriah out to fight the Indians." 
 
 He glanced at Brand's strong face, with its lines of 
 stern will and determined purpose. 
 
 "He'll have a hard nut to crack there. Perhaps 
 he'll be wise enough not to try it." 
 
 Presently Brand said: 
 
 "I guess you want to know how we got the cattle 
 back? Where's Brother Sutter? I want to thank 
 him again, before you all." 
 
 "He's over with the cattle," said some one in the 
 crowd. 
 
 "Where's Tom, then?" 
 
 "Tom, come here a moment. This boy, like his 
 father, showed himself quick-witted and daring. If it 
 had not been for them we should probably have 
 returned empty-handed." 
 
 Tom fidgeted with pleasure and embarrassment, which 
 only deepened when Carissa turned a bright smile 
 toward him. 
 
 "When we left the camp last night we did not know 
 which way to take, but spread out and made for the 
 hills. We could not go very fast, for the way was 
 rough, and we had to let the horses pick for them- 
 selves. 
 
 "Along toward morning we found we were on the 
 right track, for we came across one of the steers who 
 had broken his leg and been abandoned. We put 
 him out of his misery and pushed on a little faster. 
 Presently the wind changed and just about that time, 
 off in the distance, we saw a light. At first I thought 
 it was the sunrise, but it was too far to the north and 
 
 177 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 it also seemed too early. After a little I saw that it 
 was a prairie fire. 
 
 "As we drew nearer we caught sight of a moving 
 dark mass ahead, which we were sure was the party 
 we were looking for. It was not long till the day 
 began to dawn and we found that we were right. 
 
 "We put spurs to our horses and dashed ahead. 
 The Indians had been compelled to turn back on 
 account of the fire, and were having trouble with the 
 cattle who were almost exhausted. When they saw us 
 I thought they would fight for it, for they outnum- 
 bered us three to one, but for some reason they gave 
 it up, abandoned the herd and started off. 
 
 "It was fortunate for us that the wind changed or 
 we should have been in a dangerous position. We 
 had to let the cattle rest before starting back, and 
 while doing so we fired the grass. It was a wonderful 
 thing to watch the tongues of flame licking the ground 
 bare before us and spreading out, until we saw a long 
 line carried swiftly by the wind to meet and oppose 
 the other line, slowly eating its way in our direc- 
 tion. 
 
 "Presently we heard a rifle shot on the other side of 
 the curtain of smoke. We wondered if the Indians 
 had been circling round, and we prepared for defense; 
 but presently we saw a man and a boy coming in our 
 direction, trampling through the charred stubble that 
 was still hot and smoking. 
 
 "It was Tom, here, and his father. They had kept 
 ahead of the Indians, and finding themselves in a 
 direct line with them, had fired the grass in their faces 
 to prevent themselves from being taken. To this we 
 owe the fact of our overtaking them so quickly, and 
 
 178 
 
BREAKING GROUND 
 
 the confusion that probably led them to abandon their 
 booty without a fight." 
 
 When he had ended his story, Brand read to them 
 the 27th Psalm, and commended them and their for- 
 tunes anew to the God of Israel whom they worshiped, 
 and who had safely led His ancient people to the 
 promised land. 
 
 The experiences of the emigrants were similar to 
 thousands of others who had, since 1847, followed in 
 the track of the first pioneer band of one hundred and 
 forty-three picked men, who had broken their way 
 over plain and desert, rivers and mountains, to the 
 valley of the Great Salt Lake. 
 
 They experienced much less of hardship than many 
 of their predecessors. Their route was mapped out 
 for them. IMany of the rivers had been provided with 
 bridges and ferries. They were able to profit by the 
 experience of others in determining the character and 
 quantity of provisions that were needed, and were 
 able to live comfortably if not luxuriously. Brand 
 found his time fully occupied. While on the move he 
 was usually in the saddle, cheering or instructing the 
 men, personally guiding the heavy wagons over the 
 rough roads, superintending the wading through boggy 
 places and deep sloughs and the difficult passage of 
 unbridged streams. 
 
 They were encamped one day on a stream known as 
 Wide Creek. Here they found a rude forge that had 
 been erected by some former band of emigrants; oper- 
 ated by a great bellows, the handiwork of unskilled 
 workmen, it was nevertheless in effective working order. 
 As there were numerous repairs to be made, a halt of 
 two or three days was thought advisable. Tents were 
 
 179 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 unpacked and set up. The wagons were stationed in 
 the form of a half crescent facing the river, forming a 
 large corral for the cattle where they might find abun- 
 dant pasturage. 
 
 Men were sent to the islands of the river to secure 
 wood, which was burned in ovens made of turf, for the 
 manufacture of charcoal to be used in their operations. 
 
 As Carissa was standing by her husband's side, 
 watching a raft load of men laboriously pulling their 
 way across the yellow water of the Platte, she noticed 
 that one of them was Swensen, and her recent conver- 
 sation with his wife came vividly to her mind. 
 
 "What a brute that man must be," she said, "to play 
 upon the foolish fears of one who loves him so 
 devotedly!" 
 
 Brand looked at her in surprise. "Which of them, 
 my dear?" he asked, laughing. 
 
 "That man yonder using the pole. See, he leans 
 upon it as a prop more than he uses it. He is Hilda 
 Swensen' s husband." 
 
 "Yes, I see him. He is a lazy scamp, for a good 
 brother. But what of him?" 
 
 "He is breaking his wife's heart with the most fool- 
 ish stories. I told her they were not true, but could 
 not reassure her. I cannot fathom his motive, unless 
 it be to make her miserable." 
 
 "What are these stories, Carissa?" 
 
 "He says that when they get to the valley he can 
 have as many wives as he pleases, that our religion 
 permits it; that he intends to take up land, and that 
 he will pick out two or three of the young healthy 
 girls from our company, marry them, and have them 
 to help him in his work." 
 
 180 
 
BREAKING GROUND 
 
 In his heart, Brand cursed Swensen for a blundering 
 fool, but to Carissahe said, half jestingly, "And so you 
 are bearing the burden of the domestic disagreements 
 
 of the whole company, are you? That won't do, 
 
 C) > 
 arissa. 
 
 "But she believes it, and the thought is killing her." 
 
 "I will speak to him. But, Carissa, have you ever 
 thought of the lives of the ancient patriarchs? These 
 men of God had many wives. Why is it that they 
 prospered? that their wives were happy? that jeal- 
 ousy and discord did not mar the contentment of their 
 homes?" 
 
 He employed a tone of banter to conceal his earn- 
 estness. She replied quickly and positively: 
 
 "But jealousy and discord zvere present. They not 
 only marred, they utterly destroyed the contentment 
 of more than one home, and the happiness of more 
 than one life. There is no picture more pathetic than 
 that of Hagar going forth into the wilderness an out- 
 cast, deserted, in abject poverty, and alone with her 
 boy; banished because of jealousy." 
 
 "That is true. Still, are society and conventional 
 law, or is God, the supreme arbiter in the final question 
 of right? That is the point, Carissa. We are dis- 
 cussing God's dealings with a people long since dead 
 and gone. Yet certain principles are eternal." 
 
 Carissa was looking at him earnestly. She could 
 not comprehend his motive in arguing so strangely. 
 He observed her close attention, and determined to 
 make use of the opportunity; but he was very guarded. 
 
 "Every human relationship can become poisoned 
 and embittered where God is forgotten," he said, 
 gravely. "Society abounds in evidence of this fact. 
 
 181 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 There are many unhappy homes, where the husband is 
 set against the wife and where children are arrayed 
 against their parents. But, where the spirit of God is 
 present, any human relationship may be sweet and 
 sacred. You may be sure that when He permitted the 
 patriarchal order of marriage, He was able to make 
 peace, contentment and happiness prevail, where His 
 law was obeyed. You believe this, do you not, 
 Carissa?" 
 
 She nodded assent reluctantly. 
 
 "Even polygamy, then, might be still practiced with- 
 out jealousy and with domestic harmony, if God had 
 ordained it," he continued. 
 
 She made a gesture of impatient remonstrance. 
 
 He put his arm lovingly about her, and added, 
 smilingly: 
 
 "So you see, dearest, it was not the institution that 
 caused mischief and trouble, but the unregenerate 
 hearts, selfish, hateful, jealous, and full of rebellion 
 against the will of the Lord. 
 
 "But come, we must be returning. Don't worry any 
 more about that poor woman. I will speak to Swen- 
 sen. He is a brute, as you said; and yet remember, 
 dear, if God had ordained such a system for His 
 people of this latter day, and ?/that poor woman were 
 submissive to the divine will, there would be some 
 compensation, you must grant, in having two or three 
 pairs of strong and willing hands to help her bear the 
 burdens of house and field." 
 
 Carissa was indignant. It seemed to her a poor sub- 
 ject for a jest. 
 
 "How can you speak so? The very thought is an 
 offence against her womanhood. He might pay them 
 
 182 
 
BREAKING GROUND 
 
 wages, but to take them as his wives. The idea is 
 utterly repugnant to her and must be." 
 
 "I see you do not catch the force of the conditions 
 I suggested," he said soothingly. "I was in my 
 thought transporting that family back into patriarchal 
 times. This repugnance you speak of would have been 
 rebellion. Believe me, when God makes a command, 
 He has power to operate upon the human mind so 
 that it can be clarified of all that would make obedi- 
 ence impossible or repugnant. Do you not believe 
 this, Carissa?" 
 
 He looked down into her eyes, half playfully, half 
 earnestly, altogether tenderly. 
 
 She looked up at him, startled, and yet almost 
 amused at the turn of the conversation, and little com- 
 prehending its real bearing. 
 
 "I suppose that what you say is true, but I cannot 
 understand how it could be so." 
 
 "Nicodemus said, 'How can these things be?' and the 
 Saviour replied, 'Art thou a master in Israel and 
 knowest not these things?' Dearest, miracles have 
 been wrought not only in Nature but also in human 
 
 nature." 
 
 They were silent for a time, and stood watching the 
 men as they came and went about their tasks. Brand 
 was feeling somewhat elated over his adroitness. 
 
 Carissa was struggling with a sense of sadness that 
 she could not account for. Was it the tedium of the 
 long journey, or the depressing influence of the deso- 
 lation of the country through which they had been 
 passing, or was it her sympathy with the sorrows of 
 an unhappy woman that oppressed her? 
 
 Finally Brand broke the silence: 
 
 183 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Do you remember our reading the other night of 
 God's covenant with Abraham?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "and afterward I looked up 
 the references and thought how wonderful were the 
 promises of our Father." 
 
 "Does it not seem strange that our God who changes 
 not, who is the same yesterday, to-day and forever, 
 should have blessed polygamous Abraham? and con- 
 firmed the blessing upon Jacob and his four wives, and 
 upon the children that they bore him, when such a 
 domestic arrangement would be an abomination in His 
 sight to-day? Is it not strange that this same God 
 should have answered the prayer of Hannah, one of 
 the wives of Elkanah, by giving her such a son as Sam- 
 uel, the great prophet? and later have given to David 
 many wives of his own besides the wives of King Saul, 
 and have even blessed his union with Bathsheba, by 
 the birth of Solomon, who should succeed him on the 
 throne?" 
 
 Carissa was startled by these sudden questions. 
 "Do you wish to teach me to doubt?" she asked, hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 "No, dearest, but I want you to see that the 
 ways of God are past finding out; and that it is 
 folly for us to say that that is wrong which He says is 
 right." 
 
 When he returned to the forge later in the day, he 
 saw Maggie standing a little to one side, and watching 
 his approach, with a look on her face that struck him 
 as peculiar. Immediately the thought flashed through 
 his mind, "She knows of this plural-wife doctrine, and 
 I guess she doesn't object. She's not likely to say 
 anything to Carissa, I think. Still, she talks with her 
 
 184 
 
BREAKING GROUND 
 
 more than anyone else. Perhaps I'd better caution 
 her." 
 
 "Come here a moment, Maggie. I want to speak 
 with you," he called out. 
 
 They moved a little distance from the men. 
 
 "You have heard about the revelation on Celestial 
 Marriage, haven't you?" he asked, without preliminary. 
 
 She was confused for a moment. Her eyes sought 
 the ground. A quick blush deepened the color in her 
 cheeks. When she looked up a faint smile quivered 
 about her mouth. He thought it was embarrassment 
 caused by his abruptness. 
 
 "Yes, I have been told about it since we left Winter 
 Quarters." 
 
 "Who told you? Swensen?" 
 
 "No, Elder Carson." 
 
 "Well, do you approve of it?" 
 
 "That depends!" she glanced up with a resolute 
 look, almost a challenge, in her face. 
 
 "I ought not to have asked you that question," he 
 said, gravely. "It is a revelation of God's will, and 
 as such must be accepted." 
 
 "But we're not sheep to be driven into the first pas- 
 ture that opens its gates, are we?" she asked with an 
 air of defiance. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean," her voice suddenly dropped, "we are not 
 to be married off against our will, are we?" 
 
 "Certainly not," he said, with a smile. "It simply 
 means that a man can have more than one wife, if he 
 finds favor in the eyes of more than one, and can sup- 
 port them." 
 
 Maggie's face was expressive of various emotions. 
 
 185 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 It was a pleasing face, frank, hearty and true. Some 
 of his former impressions recurred to Brand. He 
 liked her all the better because her glance failed to 
 meet his squarely, in spite of her evident effort. 
 
 "Have you talked it over with anyone [else?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 She looked at him steadily now, and answered with 
 a slight laugh. "Not much, but everyone knows some- 
 thing about it, and of course there's been some talk." 
 
 "Maggie, this is not a matter for idle chatter. Prej- 
 udices are often begotten by the careless handling of 
 sacred subjects. I want you to promise me that you 
 will say nothing more about it, until we reach the val- 
 ley. Will you do this?" 
 
 Poor Maggie! What thought was it' that suddenly 
 flamed up in such vivid self-consciousness into her 
 face, and made her resolve that she would permit no 
 one, not even Elder Carson, to speak to her again 
 upon the subject, until they reached the valley, nor 
 even then if Mr. Brand should wish it otherwise. 
 
 Having gained her willing assent, Brand turned 
 away relieved. 
 
 "No one else is liable to speak about it, but I must 
 not delay too long," he thought. 
 
 186 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A DANCE AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 Several days later the journey was resumed. They 
 passed many a lonely grave, which, by its simple 
 legend, warned them against the danger of straying 
 from their comrades. Their pilgrimage was attended 
 by great discomfort and many difficulties, but they 
 found many compensations by the way: The out-door 
 life, the wholesome exercise, their splendid health, 
 and comparative freedom from accidents. 
 
 Each day they encountered some new marvel. 
 Armies of brilliantly colored grasshoppers crossed 
 their path; there were many varieties and the children 
 hunted them with great glee. Several lizards were 
 caught and brought into camp, and as the beautiful 
 little creatures were quite harmless, they were kept as 
 pets. Antelopes made their appearance almost every 
 day, and were always objects of wonder and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 Successful hunting parties were formed on several 
 occasions, and furnished the means of great feasting. 
 Occasionally, bands of Indians were seen in the dis- 
 tance, but no more raids were made upon the camp. 
 Buffalo were sighted in twos and threes, in bands of 
 eight or ten, and at one time a herd estimated at 
 10,000 was pointed out in the neighborhood of Ash- 
 hollow on the south side of the Platte. 
 
 They were now approaching Fort Laramie. 
 
 For two days they were in sight of Chimney Rock, 
 a conical elevation about one hundred feet in height, 
 
 187 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 its sides forming an angle of about forty-five degrees. 
 It derived its name from a perpendicular shaft rising 
 sheer forty feet from the apex, and resembling a 
 gigantic chimney. 
 
 Concerning this curious freak of nature Elder Car- 
 son remarked that it had lost something of its former 
 imposing appearance. 
 
 "The first time I traveled this way it formed a land- 
 mark for forty miles, both up and down the river. A 
 few years ago it was broken, I guess, by lightning. 
 You see them bluffs yonder? That chimney was at one 
 time connected with 'em, probably formed a kind of 
 shoulder, and was cut off and fashioned as we see it by 
 the action of water." 
 
 It was not long before they came in sight of Scotts 
 Bluffs, which presented a singular and striking resem- 
 blance to ancient palaces, towers, temples and monu- 
 ments. In the evening this rocky panorama presented 
 an almost miraculous appearance, illuminated by fhe 
 rich gold of the setting sun. 
 
 Many of the poor emigrants looked upon this pic- 
 ture with awe, as at a glorified vision of the celestial 
 city, granted in order to encourage them to endure 
 with patience the hardships of the way. 
 
 It was a great event when they reached Fort Lara- 
 mie. One-half the distance between Winter Quarters 
 and the Great Salt Lake had now been traversed. They 
 were leaving the plains and approaching the moun- 
 tains. It was pleasant to know that their camp that 
 night was in the vicinity of the habitations of men. 
 
 Brand, Carson, and a few other men paid a visit to 
 a small trading post kept by two Frenchmen, a short 
 distance back from the trail, and the sound of the 
 
 188 
 
A DANCE AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 canine greeting which they received was heard even 
 in the camp. 
 
 Hearing that large bands of Indians were on the 
 south side of the Platte, it was decided not to cross at 
 Laramie Ferry, but to keep on to the South Pass, 
 although the way would prove difficult, on account of 
 the steep ascent and the many sandy hills. 
 
 Brand, however, crossed over to visit the fort, which 
 had a small garrison, and on his return, brought with 
 him a young officer, whom he introduced to Carissa as 
 Lieutenant Osborne. He was a fine looking fellow, 
 soldierly, alert and frank. 
 
 "I have come to invite you and all the ladies and 
 gentlemen who care to dance, to grace our poor quar- 
 ters with your presence to-night." 
 
 He spoke with easy courtesy, and waited for her 
 reply, hat in hand. 
 
 Carissa glanced at her husband, who nodded, 
 smiling. 
 
 "We shall be delighted, but you will have to permit 
 us the travel-stained toilets of overland voyagers." 
 
 "If you but knew our desolate condition in this 
 God-forsaken country!" he said with a gesture of self- 
 commiseration. "Not a woman, except squaws and 
 half-breeds, within five hundred miles. We are veri- 
 table savages." 
 
 "It must be a lonely life! What do you do?" 
 
 "Eat, drink, mount guard, tease the dogs, quarrel 
 with the Frenchies at the trading post, drive the beg- 
 garly squaws and children out of the compound, varied 
 by the occasional excitement of punishing a band of 
 thieving Indians, who have robbed some emigrant train 
 
 of their cattle." 
 
 189 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 The comical air of contemptuous resignation with 
 which he spoke was amusing, and Carissa laughed 
 heartily at this inspiring outline of the duties required 
 of the garrison of a frontier post. 
 
 "Then even the advent of a company of emigrants 
 forms a pleasing break in the monotony," she said. 
 
 "They usually stop here, as this is the best crossing 
 place for a hundred and fifty miles. We are delighted 
 to have the opportunity of getting up some entertain- 
 ment, for ourselves as well as for them. We prefer 
 the Mormon emigrants, their women are usually in 
 the majority." 
 
 "How long have you been stationed here?" 
 
 "A little over a year. Your Salt Lake Valley must 
 be filling up rapidly. Thousands of people must have 
 passed last year and this." 
 
 "Yes," said Brand. "And the emigration has just 
 begun." 
 
 "They show lots of pluck," said Osborne. "Most 
 of the people seem very poor. Your company appears 
 to be unusually prosperous. But tney all seem happy, 
 contented and hopeful." 
 
 As he spoke he turned toward Carissa again as 
 though he found it pleasant to look at her. She would 
 not have been a woman, had she not been pleased 
 with his pretty flattery. 
 
 "Mrs. Brand, may I have the honor of the first dance 
 with you to-night?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, with pleasure," answered Carissa. 
 
 She liked this young officer. He seemed such a 
 wholesome, handsome, big-hearted boy. 
 
 Brand left them together, and went to inform the 
 party of the entertainment in store for them. The 
 
 190 
 
A DANCE AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 captain at the Fort had begged that all should come, 
 young and old. 
 
 Such an invitation, after a long and toilsome jour- 
 ney, was not to be refused, and the camp soon 
 presented an unusual appearance. The wagons were 
 overhauled, boxes lifted out, clothes unpacked in 
 search of costumes, with results in many cases highly 
 ludicrous. 
 
 Meanwhile, Carissa and Lieutenant Osborne were 
 talking together. It was a real pleasure tor her to 
 come in touch with a nature so ingenuous and true. 
 His heart was full of repressed confidences, and it 
 needed little encouragement to induce him to unburden 
 himself to so sweet an understanding. It was an index 
 of his character that he retained a tender recollection of 
 the old home that he had left so far awa}-, and that as 
 he spoke of his father and mother and sister, the tears 
 came unbidden to his eyes. Presently, however, he 
 sprang to his feet, and said: 
 
 "I don't know why I have spoken to you as I have. 
 I forgot that you were a stranger." 
 
 "I think I almost did the same," she answered, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Ha! Mrs. Brand, that has done me good. To tell 
 the truth I am baby enough to have been awfully 
 homesick. But I must go. I have kept you for hours, 
 that have seemed like minutes; and Captain Colton 
 depends on me to make arrangements. Remember, 
 you have promised me the first dance; and as many 
 more as your sweet charity will grant," he said, as he 
 left her. 
 
 It was a strangely assorted company that was gath- 
 ered within the walls of Fort Laramie that evening. 
 
 191 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 The dancing was to be on a portion of the sun-baked 
 clay courtyard, outside the barracks, over which can- 
 vas had been stretched to keep out the night air. 
 Here and there rude spluttering lamps were suspended, 
 that emitted a feeble intermittent light. 
 
 An attempt at decoration had been made with flags 
 and bunting and green boughs cut from the river bank. 
 At one end of the cleared space sat the members of 
 the band, playing national and popular airs as the 
 people were gathering. 
 
 The soldiers, who were in the full uniform of the 
 frontier service, were a rather rough-looking set of 
 fellows, although smartened by drill and discipline, 
 and were evidently looking forward to a gay time. 
 The majority of the officers were young men, though 
 Captain Colton was beyond middle age, and had seen 
 much service. 
 
 Am.ong the visitors almost every style of costume 
 was observable. There were coats and waistcoats cut 
 in Whitechapel fashion, along with nondescript jack- 
 ets, topping all sorts of nether garments, supported at 
 the hips by anything from a leather belt to a rope, and 
 tucked into the well-worn boots. A few of the men, 
 among them Mr. Brand, wore the red Guernsey shirt, 
 common among sailors, corduroy trousers and top 
 boots, not a bad rig-out for crossing the plains. 
 
 The dresses of the women could not be so easily 
 classified. They were such as would naturally be 
 selected by the poorer classes of Swedish, Welsh and 
 German peasantry and by the working people of the 
 manufacturing towns of England. The younger 
 women had been able to make some show of smart- 
 ness with their neatly darned white stockings, clean 
 
 192 
 
A DANC E AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 bright petticoats, gowns of lawn or gingham, often 
 well fitting about the waist, but faded with many wash- 
 ings and from which the wrinkles had been hastily 
 shaken. A few only could boast an artistically clean 
 starched collar and chemisette; but all were bright and 
 happy, and glowing with the ruddy health of their 
 out-door life and constant exercise. 
 
 The children were there, clinging to their mother s 
 skirts, wakeful, wondering and eager-eyed, their atten- 
 tion divided between the entrancing strains of music 
 and the marvelous appearance of the soldiers with 
 their gay trappings. 
 
 Next to Carissa, an impartial observer would_ have 
 pronounced Maggie the most attractive woman in the 
 place; and it was not strange that many of the soldier 
 gave the palm without reserve to this bright faced girl 
 
 of their own class. . 
 
 Most of these women had walked five hundred miles 
 through dust and sand, climbing hills, wading creeks, 
 struggling through sloughs, helping to pitch the ten s, 
 gathering wood and water, preparing the meals, 
 enduring privations innumerable. But these things 
 were just now forgotten, as well as the toilsome jour- 
 ney still before them. No wonder they were inclined 
 to make the most of it. There was intoxication in the 
 call of the violins to the dance. 
 
 Said Lieutenant Osborne to the captain, as they 
 stood together for a moment before the signal was 
 
 ^' -This will be no stately procession of fashionables, 
 in tight shoes and close-fitting gloves, following the 
 graceful measures of the minuet. See that fine look- 
 ing girl over there; she's as eager for the fray as a war 
 ^ ^ 193 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 horse. But see, there is Mrs. Brand. Let me take you 
 over." 
 
 After the introduction, Captain Colton remarked 
 gallantly: 
 
 "This youngster here pleads guilty to the insubordi- 
 nation of having usurped my privilege to the first 
 dance with you, but his claim is not in force until after 
 the opening cotillion." 
 
 In such a gathering, partners were, of course, chosen 
 in most cases at random or in response to the individ- 
 ual invitation of a pair of bright eyes. Happy hearts, 
 lithe figures, and nimble feet had it all their own way, 
 while such old favorite figures as Virginia reel, Copen- 
 hagen jig, and French fours were executed with unflag- 
 ging zest and spirit. 
 
 It was a pleasure to Carissa to abandon herself to 
 the occasion. Perplexing questions were forgotten, 
 harassing thoughts were put away, it all seemed to her 
 natural, innocent and wholesome. Brand did not 
 dance himself, but he wished her to do so, and took 
 delight in her enjoyment. 
 
 "This has been a great pleasure," she said to 
 Osborne during a pause in the music. "But I am out 
 of practice and I find it just a little fatiguing." 
 
 "You dance perfectly. I should never tire with you 
 for a partner. May I venture? I have told you all 
 about my people. Will you tell me about yours? 
 How came you here? Were you born a Mormon?" 
 
 He detected a quick change of expression, a subtle 
 summoning of reserve. 
 
 "Pardon me," he continued, "I shall never see you 
 again in all probability. I am not simply curious con- 
 cerning you. When I think of you, as I shall, I should 
 
 194 
 
A DANCE AT FORT LARAMIE 
 
 like to do so without this puzzlement. You are so 
 different, not only from the people of your own party, 
 but from all others of your faith that I have ever seen." 
 
 "I knew nothing of this faith until I met Mr. Brand. 
 He came to our home in England, two years ago. But 
 these people are my people now," said Carissa, with a 
 little laugh. 
 
 "And do you believe it all?" 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "It seems so foreign to you. There is so much that I 
 should have thought you would have drawn up at." 
 
 "It is not wise to believe all that one hears," she 
 answered, gently. "We have our enemies, and the}' 
 are most unscrupulous in circulating slanders." 
 
 "They must have been slanders since you are con- 
 tent — and yet " 
 
 "These reports seem to have made a deep impres- 
 sion. Talk with ]\Ir. Brand. You can do so freely, 
 and you can trust him. He will tell you the truth." 
 
 "I would rather talk with you," laughed Osborne. 
 "You don't think it right, or religious, for a man to 
 have more than one wife? 
 
 "Certainly not!" said Carissa, and her color deep- 
 ened a little. 
 
 "But you know what they say? That President 
 Young has more than a dozen in Salt Lake City. 
 Everybody knows it. Nobody denies it." 
 
 Now Carissa was deeply angered. "Let us find my 
 husband," she said, coldly. 
 
 "Forgive me. I should have known it was false. 
 But it has been printed as an article of their faith — 
 will you believe me? But I will not believe it, and I 
 will from this time give it steady denial." 
 
 195 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 His pleading was so impulsively boyish and sincere 
 that her anger vanished. She caught his expression of 
 honest contrition. 
 
 "Yes, I forgive you," she said, and then added with 
 a smile, "have we gained a fresh champion? It looks as 
 though we needed a great many." 
 
 "Yes, by Jove, I'll back the Mormons from this on — 
 for your sake," exclaimed Osborne. 
 
 196 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 LOVE AND SCRUPLES 
 
 The caravan toiled along, day after day. They 
 skirted the edge of the Wind River Chain of the Rocky 
 Mountains, whose granite walls frowned down upon 
 them in massive grandeur. About a mile beyond 
 Rock Independence they forded the Sweet Water 
 River, and following its banks, passed through the 
 narrow cleft or gorge called "Devil's Gate." 
 
 For several days after leaving Devil's Gate, the trail 
 crossed rocky ridges exceedingly rough and danger- 
 ous. They were approaching the summit of the Great 
 Divide; the air was dry and invigorating, but they 
 found the nights exceedingly cold, and extra blankets 
 were in great demand. Wood was scarce and the 
 buffalo chips, that had formed the fuel many a night 
 and morning on the plains, were nowhere to be found. 
 It was soon after their passage of the South Pass 
 that Maggie came running up to the wagon where 
 Carissa was sitting, and called out: 
 
 "See, Mrs. Brand, we have passed the summit at 
 last. The streams no longer run to meet us." 
 
 Brand made his appearance with half a dozen prairie 
 hens that he had shot. 
 
 ''It is curious how these birds can find a congenial 
 home 7,000 feet above sea level," he said. "They are 
 very similar to the wild hens of the States and there 
 
 are hundreds of them." 
 
 197 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "We saw two or three large birds this morning. I 
 think they were eagles," said Maggie. 
 
 "Yes, yonder peaks are their home," said Brand. 
 "They fly high enough to be able to look down into 
 the valley of the Salt Lake." 
 
 "In which direction is it?" 
 
 He pointed to the southwest. 
 
 "We have just crossed into Oregon. We have a 
 small corner to cut off, and then we are in God's 
 Country." 
 
 This announcement seemed to make the end of the 
 journey very near, and Maggie was all excitement. 
 She ran back to the party that she had left and com- 
 municated the intelligence. All turned and gazed in 
 the direction indicated. It was an unusually clear 
 day, but only the peaks of the distant mountains lofty 
 and forbidding could be seen. 
 
 Quibble slowly shook his head. 
 
 "It's a long ways yet and a steep climb. It seems 
 like I had never done anything. in all my life but fol- 
 low a great lumbering wagon, and shout 'gee' and 
 'haw' at a lot of stupid blundering steers." 
 
 Maggie laughed. 
 
 "That's just it, Jock; your brain was a floating mass 
 before, but now it has hardened into ox-driving. You 
 ought to have worn a flannel night-cap these cold 
 nights, to keep it soft and impressionable." 
 
 "See here, Maggie, you haven't given me a civil 
 word for weeks. What's come over you? You used 
 to be sweet enough on me before we started." 
 
 Maggie tossed her head disdainfully. 
 
 'You're so tiresome, Jock." She started as though 
 to rejoin the party ahead. 
 
 198 
 
LOVE AND SCRUPLES 
 
 "I see how it is," he said sullenly, "you think that 
 because of that damned foolishness about a man's hav- 
 ing more than one wife you can look a little higher." 
 
 She started and turned upon him, ashamed and 
 angry. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't get mad. It's plain enough that 
 you're stuck on Mr. Brand; and you think now that 
 he can do it, he'll marry you. Perhaps he will, and 
 afterwards get a dozen more. I should think you'd 
 like the prospect of being one of his herd." He spoke 
 sneeringly and as if goaded to it. 
 
 "How dare you! you contemptible good-for-noth- 
 ing." She was in a perfect fury, and looked as 
 though she would spring upon him. Brand riding up 
 caught the last words and saw the gesture. 
 
 He drew rein in amazement. 
 
 "Maggie, Maggie — what is the matter?" 
 
 She looked up startled, her face became almost 
 white, and then received the blood again in a crimson 
 flood. Without a word she put her hands to her face, 
 and ran swiftly by the wagons toward the head of the 
 column. 
 
 "What does all this mean. Quibble?" Brand asked, 
 sharply. 
 
 "You'll have to ask her," he answered, sullenly. 
 "She's been picking at me for weeks past, and I just 
 give it her back again, that's all." 
 
 The Cassady girls, who had heard it all, looked 
 frightened and said nothing. Brand turned his horse 
 and climbed a hill that commanded a long view of the 
 road ahead. He saw a flying figure some distance in 
 advance of the foremost wagon, and thought it was 
 Maggie. 
 
 199 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I'll ride on and make her explain. If that fellow 
 has been insulting her, I'll teach him a lesson." 
 
 He put spurs to his horse, and as he passed Carson, 
 who was mending a broken wheel, the latter hailed 
 him with the question: "What's up with that Morey 
 girl? She went by here like the wind, and would not 
 stop when I called her." 
 
 "I'm going to find out," Brand called back. 
 
 Brand found her seated on the ground, sheltered by 
 a small clump of dwarf shrub, her face in her hands, 
 weeping. She did not stir, although she must have 
 heard the approach; nor did she look up, while he dis- 
 mounted and tied his horse to a bush. 
 
 He went to her and put his hand upon her shoulder. 
 
 "Now, Maggie, what is it?" 
 
 She trembled a little, but said nothing. She felt 
 that somehow this hour would make a difference in 
 her life. 
 
 She was sure that Brand admired her, she had seen 
 it in his eyes more than once, she had thought much 
 of his careless words at the forge, and had certainly 
 attached a meaning to them that he had not intended. 
 She loved him, she knew it; and the sting of Quibble's 
 words was in the fact that they so truly interpreted 
 her secret wishes. 
 
 "My poor girl, you must tell me," said Brand, seat- 
 ing himself beside her. 
 
 Maggie's tears flowed unrestrainedly, and yielding 
 to her inclination she leaned helplessly toward him. 
 The sheep had passed over a distant ridge. The 
 wagons had halted beyond a spur of the mountains in 
 the rear. The man and the woman were alone in the 
 midst of a wild mountain region, where any display of 
 
 200 
 
£'^. ^ 
 
 e^> £_ f -' »"»■ 
 
 K»ft;-=i3 
 
 HE WENT TO HER AND PUT HIS HAND UPON 
 HER SHOULDER. 
 
LOVE AND SCRUPLES 
 
 human passion seemed strangely incongruous, and yet 
 this human element was more dominant than the natu- 
 ral spirit of the place itself. 
 
 Gently he lifted her face from her hands. There 
 was a strange light shining behind her tears. He 
 looked at her, and as he looked, suddenly she reached 
 up toward him with her lips, and in an instant his lips 
 met hers. As they drew apart they were both flushed. 
 
 "There, child, dry your tears, and tell me what is 
 troubling you," he said. But having just touched 
 sincerity for a moment, they both felt that there was 
 the ring of cant, both in his manner and his words. 
 
 "Nothing now," she said. Her look of perfect con- 
 tentment proved the truth of her words. 
 
 When at length the train reached the point where 
 Maggie was sitting, she was perched upon a rock, her 
 great sun-shade in her hands, her face aglow with hap- 
 piness. She was singing one of the happy songs of 
 Zion.with which these Latter Day pilgrims had learned 
 to beguile the tedium of their pilgrimage. 
 
 201 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 As they entered Utah territory, a shout was raised 
 and at night great fires were kindled. The prayers of 
 the Elders were unusually fervent with thanksgiving; 
 the songs of the people vibrated with a note of exulta- 
 tion; a fortnight of steady progress and they would be 
 at their journey's end. 
 
 The Green River was crossed by the ferry. On the 
 farther bank a trading post swarmed with traders, 
 gamblers, and Indians, who had learned how to profit 
 by the inexperience of newcomers. In spite of Brand's 
 precautions and Elder Carson's warnings and threat- 
 enings many of the men, rendered keen by long priva- 
 tion, yielded to the seductive invitations of those who 
 sought to profit by their weakness. 
 
 Carissa was terribly shocked when Quibble reeled 
 into camp, noisy and profane, and with him several 
 others whom she had learned to respect because of 
 faithfulness under trial. Was this to be their introduc- 
 tion into the land of promise? Were these the men 
 who were gathering at God's command? Brand had 
 fairly driven them from the place of their temptation, 
 and, having given orders that no one should leave the 
 camp, had posted a guard of reliable men to see that 
 his orders were obeyed. 
 
 As Quibble passed Carissa, he halted as if he had 
 something to say. There was an insolent look upon 
 his face as he stood there steadying himself with an 
 effort. "Have you heard about the surprise party 
 
 202 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 your man is fixing for you, leddy?" He spoke slowly 
 and with drunken gravity. "I hear that Maggie— she 
 was my girl, you know — has been invited, she fished 
 for the invite and she's got it; there'll be a few others 
 by an' by, and you'll lead a merry dance together." 
 
 He was in the act of shaking his finger at her, when 
 his arm was suddenly seized by Maggie, who had been 
 watching him. She turned him fiercely around, and 
 gave him a vigorous push toward the circle of wagons. 
 
 "What are you doing here, you drunken brute? Get 
 under that wagon, and wrap yourself up in that 
 blanket, or I'll drive you with your own ox-goad." 
 
 He swore at her and raised his fist awkwardly, but 
 she gave him another push and slapped him soundly 
 on the cheek. 
 
 "You're a pretty Saint, aren't you? Move on now or 
 I'll have Mr. Brand duck you in the river." 
 
 Under this vigorous treatment he obeyed, while 
 Carissa watched the scene with a feeling of indigna- 
 tion. It seemed like a vulgar nightmare. She had 
 never before been accosted by a man in liquor. She 
 did not understand his words, but his look of brutal 
 insolence was something not to be forgotten. She 
 wished that Brand would come. It was I\Iaggie that 
 came to her. 
 
 'They've been drinking," she said, as though that 
 would be a full explanation to Carissa. "This is the 
 first time that Jock has touched it for more than two 
 years. He left it off after hearing Elder Kimball 
 preach in Manchester. 1 can't think what induced 
 him to-day." 
 
 As she spoke she recalled his growing surliness 
 during the past weeks, his smouldering jealousy ready 
 
 203 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 to leap into flame, and his sudden accusation of a few 
 days before. She felt that she could, after all, under- 
 stand his readiness to yield to the first call of his old 
 appetite. 
 
 But she only said, "I heard Elder Carson declare 
 that the devil had planted that stronghold at the 
 entrance to the land, in order to try the fortitude of the 
 Saints. I am afraid that some of them are only men." 
 There was a world of quiet contempt in her tone. 
 
 It was hard for Carissa to shake off the depression 
 that this scene had caused. 
 
 Their route lay through a country of great beauty. 
 The roads proved unusually good, and their progress 
 was rapid. As they passed Black Fork No. 3 they 
 were within sight of a range of bluffs, which fantastic- 
 ally suggested the human figure, rudely carved in a 
 variety of attitudes and standing out in bold relief. 
 There were mediaeval warriors in battle array; women 
 bowed in supplication; cowled figures of mendicant 
 friars, and a vivid representation of a modern apostle, 
 holding aloft a crucifix in one hand and a book in the 
 other. 
 
 It was Saturday afternoon, the loth of September, 
 when they reached Echo Canyon and camped by the 
 creek. Carson told them that they were within sixty 
 miles of Salt Lake City. 
 
 For many days past Brand had been distraught and 
 anxious; he realized that no more time was to be lost. 
 He must at last make to Carissa the statement that he 
 had kept so long in reserve. As he looked back, he 
 marveled that she had not become possessed of definite 
 information during the long journey. It seemed won- 
 derful that a fact which had been in the possession of 
 
 20-i 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 almost every individual, and talked over in every group, 
 should not have been communicated to her, in spite of 
 his precautions. He wondered if she had in truth 
 learned anything. He did not think it possible, or 
 she would have questioned him. 
 
 Of late. Brand had been troubled by the conviction 
 that he was not able to read Carissa's mind, as for- 
 merly. Her face was none the less expressive, but his 
 seer's faculty was clouded. He found it more satis- 
 factory to talk to her after the evening shadows had 
 begun to gather, and when the expression of the feat- 
 ures was less distinct. It was his turn now to become 
 depressed. He was no longer sure of his ground. The 
 thought of the possibility of ever finding her confi- 
 dence in him broken was unbearable; and yet, if his 
 deepest belief should prove true, she would utterly 
 reject the notion of the sanctity of a plural marriage 
 system, and might be hopelessly repelled by his advo- 
 cacy of it. 
 
 But what was to be done? They were approaching 
 the valley. She could no longer be kept in igno- 
 rance. Come what may, he must tell her and that 
 immediately. 
 
 He led her one day up a steep gulch, branching off 
 from the main canyon. 
 
 "Carissa, dear, I want to talk to you; let us follow 
 this stream. See how it winds in and out, and how 
 fiercely its little waters dash themselves against those 
 rocky fragments. Some lives are like that, never at 
 rest, always fretting themselves against every obstacle. 
 You are not so; the current of your life runs deep and 
 strong. This is but a shallow stream, and therefore it 
 
 frets and rages." 
 
 205 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "That is a faulty illustration, is it not?" said Carissa. 
 "Would the deepest river in the world be able to glide 
 placidly down a steep incline strewn with mighty 
 boulders? My life has been beautifully guarded. What 
 have I to disturb contentment? I remember the sweet, 
 fragrant meadows of my childhood; and since I have 
 known you, what has there been to cause fret or 
 worry?" 
 
 "The parting from your old home — was it not hard? 
 The severing of old ties?" 
 
 "I did it for love and I am satisfied." 
 
 "But you have cast in your lot with a people you do 
 not know." 
 
 "They are your people. You have told me of them, 
 of their convictions, their hopes, their ideals, until I 
 am glad to be counted among them." 
 
 "But you have found out that they are poor, unlet- 
 tered; you have discovered that they are not all saints 
 in reality. You have had more than a glimpse of the 
 sordidness of their lives." 
 
 Carissa thought of Quibble, and his drunken insolent 
 stare and strange menacing words; yet she replied, 
 bravely: "But they are earnest and devout." 
 
 "There is one thing that I have tried to tell you, 
 Carissa," he began again. "I have hesitated; perhaps 
 I should have trusted you without hesitation; but I 
 wanted your faith to become fully confirmed. You 
 know you were not converted to the faith in the ordi- 
 nary way." 
 
 "You should know," she replied, gravely, yet with 
 tender emphasis, "you have been my teacher." 
 
 Her words sounded like a reproach. 
 
 "Carissa, I believe with all my heart that Joseph 
 
 206 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 Smith was a divinely ordained prophet of God. There 
 was a time when I was in doubt. I had come in con- 
 tact with men of other beliefs, who scoffed at and 
 ridiculed his pretensions. They did more; they 
 sought to pervert my mind with specious arguments. 
 It was through long continued fasting and prayer that 
 there was finally borne in upon me the conviction, 
 that has continued to form the most sacred element of 
 my life. I realize that this conviction of the divine 
 authority of Joseph the prophet is not as strong with 
 you. It could not be; you have been instructed 
 through my lips. I was taught by the Lord Himself 
 in a manner I could never gainsay." 
 
 His voice vibrated with intense earnestness. She 
 reached her hand to him, saying: "Have I ever 
 doubted'you, or questioned your teaching?" 
 
 "No, but I feel that the time is coming when this 
 confidence of yours will be put to the utmost test. Tell 
 me, do you believe in the divine authority of the rev- 
 elations that have been given to us by Joseph Smith? 
 That they are to be received even though they contra- 
 dict the teachings and traditions of the so-called 
 Christian world?" 
 
 Carissa bowed her head in a cloud of confused 
 thought. A crisis seemed impending, for Brand's 
 questions terrified her, and seemed to be a summons 
 for her to prepare herself to meet some terrible blow. 
 
 "Carissa," continued Brand, not waiting for an 
 answer, "if a revelation declares the will of God, its 
 wisdom or righteousness is not to be tested by tradi- 
 tion or custom or conventionality. It does not ask 
 permission of prejudice nor does it consult the untu- 
 tored desires of human nature. Listen, dearest. About 
 
 207 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 a year before his cruel martyrdom, the prophet Joseph 
 received a revelation which startled him. He hesi- 
 tated to make it known, but he was commanded to 
 publish it. When he communicated it to his counsel- 
 lors, they declared that he must wait. The world was 
 already arrayed in hostility against them. Such a 
 publication would but call down upon them the 
 unbridled fury of their enemies; they would be in 
 danger of utter extermination. It was a mistake and 
 a calamity, that the voice of these counsellors pre- 
 vailed. God withdrew His protection, Joseph was 
 killed, the city of Nauvoo was besieged, sacked and 
 pillaged, and the people were driven forth into exile, 
 and compelled to take up their long terrible march in 
 search of an abiding place, and many left their bones on 
 the prairie and in the desert. Had they been true to 
 God, and not barkened to their fears; had they pub- 
 lished this revelation to the world and braved the storm, 
 I believe that God would have stood by them, and 
 brought them off victorious." 
 
 Carissa was listening with much of the old look of 
 rapt attention in her face. Brand had gathered all his 
 great powers of persuasion for the emergency. The 
 spell of his voice, modulated to bear his passion and 
 enforce his conviction, was upon her. 
 
 "Carissa, that revelation had to do with the doctrine 
 of 'Celestial Marriage.' I have explained some of its 
 provisions to you. Unfortunately, as I have said, it 
 was not published to the world. It was reserved until 
 the Saints should gather as a distinct and isolated com- 
 munity, in the mountain fastness that the Lord has 
 decreed should be theirs. Dearest, the time has come, 
 when, in spite of what the world may say, in spite of 
 
 208 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 the base, cowardly, and insulting interpretations that 
 may be put upon this article of our faith, this holy 
 revelation of God's will is to be published in its 
 entirety." 
 
 There came a sudden hardness Into his voice, a cer- 
 tain indefinable change in his manner, that startled 
 her even more than his words. She experienced an 
 instinctive drawing away from him. A sense of horror 
 chilled her; but it was only for a moment. She turned 
 to him very bravely and smiled, though there was a 
 nervous quivering about her lips and her eyes were 
 filled with tears, as she half whispered, "Go on, dear, 
 I am listening. I do not quite understand, but you 
 will make it plain." 
 
 "What is it that troubles you so?" he said, almost 
 sternly. At that moment he knew that his task was a 
 hopeless one. He read her mind now with keen 
 precision. 
 
 "Forgive me," I am very foolish. There came a 
 sudden memory of what has been said," she faltered, 
 and then went on rapidly, "those horrible slanders 
 about the apostles and their many wives, and the 
 dreadful system of lust and sensuality which they 
 practice! I know it is absurd and you will forgive me, 
 but coming with what you said, it startled me." 
 
 She looked at him beseechingly. 
 
 "Dearest, you must listen to me calmly. Yes, I for- 
 give you, but do not let your fancy run ahead of my 
 words. I am telling you of a revelation that has 
 come with authority from the Lord, by the mouth of 
 His servant," said Brand, and his tones were like a 
 steel file. 
 
 Carissa's face grew ashy. Why could she not con- 
 
 209 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 trol the trembling of her fingers? the catching of her 
 breath? the mad beating of her heart? Because she 
 knew only too well that the walls of her life — her 
 faith, her hope, her love — were crumbling in ruins 
 about her! She listened as in a trance, her eyes fixed 
 upon Brand's face. 
 
 He reached for a long stem of mountain sage and 
 began plucking it to pieces. 
 
 "I told you that the time would come when your 
 faith in God, and confidence in me, would be tested. 
 All is darkness if you subject the revealed will of God 
 to the test of your own judgment and wishes. All I 
 seek is that you should suspend judgment where the 
 lives of others are concerned. Do you understand?" 
 
 He tossed the mutilated shrub from him and looked 
 at her. 
 
 "You must understand. Carissa, I must not crit- 
 icize those who obey God; you must not criticize them 
 either. Do you remember my saying that if God 
 should ordain the revival of the patriarchal order of 
 marriage, He could make it a source of blessing? 
 Remember, dearest, it shall never come near you, or 
 cast a single shadow across the threshold of the home 
 we are to build. You know me. You know you have 
 all my heart. Carissa, dearest, do not look at me like 
 that. I cannot bear it. I have told you, with some- 
 thing like despair in my heart, for I knew how you 
 would feel. But you had to know. You could not 
 have gone down into the valley without finding it out. 
 Carissa, I love you. Won't you believe me?" 
 
 He was unutterably shocked at the white stillness of 
 the face before him. Had he been dealing a death 
 blow to faith, to love, to life itself? He arose from 
 
 210 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 his seat, knelt at her side, and put his arms around 
 her. She did not shrink away, and his heart felt a thrill 
 of hope. 
 
 "Carissa, I have not changed." 
 
 Suddenly she drew back; life leaped into her face; 
 and yet how changed she appeared to him! She had 
 never looked like this. 
 
 "How long have you known this?" she asked, and 
 her voice was strained and hard. 
 
 "Heber told me of it when he came to New York 
 last fall, at the same time that he brought word for us 
 to come. I could not tell you then. At first I scarcely 
 believed it." 
 
 "Did you know anything of this when you married 
 me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Nor when you brought me to America?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Nor when you denied it before Mr. Allen?" Her 
 tone was monotonously accusatory. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Only when you knew that we were coming to 
 Zion?" There was bitter contempt in her utterance of 
 the last word. 
 
 "Only then." 
 
 He was desperate. He saw her slipping from him. 
 His answers came without hesitation. His one con- 
 trolling impulse now was not to convince her, but to 
 justify himself. He put his own construction upon her 
 questions. He could not tell her that for years he 
 had been giving public denial of a thing he knew to 
 be true, and that at the order of his church. 
 
 "Why did you let me come?" she asked wearily. 
 
 211 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 She sat upon a ledge of rock, upright, her head 
 thrown back, and covered her eyes with her hand as 
 though to shut out the sight of all things. Brand saw 
 her intense agony with dismay. What should he say? 
 It seemed to him just then, in spite of his training, a 
 monstrous doctrine. Revelation, or no revelation, it 
 was a thing to be abhorred. Words sprang to his lips 
 that were perhaps more eloquent, if less true to his 
 real nature, than any apology he could have framed. 
 
 "Carissa, I hate it as you hate it," he cried. "I 
 will utterly reject it as you reject it. Come, let us 
 bear this burden together?" 
 
 For answer she dropped her hands, and looked long 
 into his face, which was lit up with passionate sin- 
 cerity. Then she reached her hands to him in mute, 
 helpless pain. 
 
 Her confidence in him had been too strong to utterly 
 fail. Something had broken in her life. Something 
 had gone out of it. But what had happened, she did 
 not yet know. Only there was a sense of an abyss so 
 deep, so dark, so appalling, that she shrank from 
 exploring it with an abject fear. 
 
 As Brand folded her in his embrace she sank limp 
 and helpless, white and apparently lifeless into his 
 arms; and as he laid her gently down, to rush to the 
 stream for water, he noted the deep lines of pain that 
 seemed to have been suddenly chiselled upon her fair 
 young face. 
 
 Carissa knew nothing of the rest of the journey, or 
 of the entrance into the valley. She tossed deliriously 
 upon the narrow bed built in a recess of the great 
 lumbering wagon. Brand scarcely moved from her 
 side. Maggie came often to inquire, but Brand had 
 
 212 
 
THE DISCLOSURE 
 
 little or nothing to say to her. His newly aroused love 
 and devotion for the helpless figure by his side, pre- 
 cluded all possibility of wandering thought or passion 
 When they reached the city of the Saints, a newly 
 built adobe house was assigned him, and hurriedly 
 furnished, and with his own arms he carried the wife 
 whom he had won from her beautiful English home, and 
 laid her gently down in their new home in the land 
 that she had longed to enter. 
 
 213 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO THE VALLEY 
 
 It had been more sympathy than conviction, together 
 with the natural desire to end an intolerable situation, 
 that had led Brand to agree with Carissa as a dissen- 
 tient, during the scene in Echo Canyon. He accepted 
 her point of view for the time being, in obedience to 
 the law of self-preservation and in response to a deep 
 stirring of pity. 
 
 But he now installed Maggie as nurse, and 
 although he refrained from any act of familiarity, and 
 avoided any private interview, it was pleasant to have 
 her about, and her quick step and bright ways were 
 thoroughly agreeable to him. 
 
 One day when they had been in the valley a week or 
 two, and Carissa was much better but languid and 
 depressed, and he had been seeking to beguile her 
 with glowing pictures of their surroundings, she looked 
 up at him questioningly, and the thought that had 
 been with her for days came tremblingly to her lips. 
 
 "Do you remember what you said? It has been the 
 one thing I have clung to." 
 
 "What is it, dearest?" 
 
 "You said, 'I hate it as you hate it. I will reject it 
 as you reject it.' Am I right to put my trust in that?" 
 
 "Certainly, dearest. But you must grow strong 
 quickly, and come out into the city. You must see for 
 yourself. It would not be fair for you to shut yourself 
 
 214 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE VALLEY 
 
 up with your preconceptions, while I, in mingling 
 
 with the people, see nothing but harmony and 
 
 peace." 
 
 • The pallor deepened in her pain-drawn face. 
 
 "It is the thing itself that is so terrible. Don't you 
 see? Oh, husband, you cannot think of staying here? 
 We cannot make our home here. How can we meet 
 the people and live with them, when they teach and 
 practice such an awful thing?" she cried, with shaking 
 voice. 
 
 He was amazed at the persistency of her opposition. 
 He was also afraid of giving her another shock, weak- 
 ened as she was. 
 
 "There, dearest, you must not think about this. I 
 will not talk with you about it. Your one business is 
 to get strong. We must spend the winter here at any 
 rate. The canyons will soon be full of snow, and the 
 trail will be blocked for months. There will be ample 
 time to talk about this when you are yourself again. 
 Dearest, you know I love you. Your happiness is the 
 dearest thing in my life, that and the welfare of our 
 youngster here." 
 
 He caught up Moroni in his arms, played with him 
 for some little time, and then placed him on a stool 
 at his mother's feet. 
 
 "Now, my boy, I leave you in charge," he said. 
 "You must teach mamma to smile again like her old 
 self. She must get the roses back into her cheeks." 
 
 He kissed Carissa and went out. He smiled at 
 Maggie as he passed through the adjoining room, and 
 saw her plump arms flour-besprinkled from the dough 
 she was kneading, and walked briskly in the direction 
 of the church offices. 
 
 215 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He was greatly attracted by the life of this new city. 
 It was not altogether as he had pictured it, for it was 
 unlike any other growing city on the continent, and 
 the conditions were still crude. 
 
 It was part camp and part pioneer settlement. 
 Many of the people still lived in their covered wag- 
 ons; many of the houses that had been erected were 
 mere shelters, and overcrowded, while only here and 
 there were there habitations that had an air of perma- 
 nency. 
 
 The streets were very wide. Trees in double rows 
 had been planted on either side, and were watered by 
 rivulets from the mountain streams, conveyed by 
 ditches in every direction through the city. The air 
 was keen and bracing; the breath of the mountains 
 was an exhilarating tonic. 
 
 There was no idling; all the inhabitants were busy. 
 Hope was in the air. Brand breathed it in. He had 
 been warmly welcomed, commended for past faithful- 
 ness, and entrusted with new responsibilities. Success 
 hardened him. He determined that Carissa should 
 see this life as he saw it. He would not allow her to 
 indulge in morbid fancies and unreasoning prejudice. 
 
 There was precious little culture or refinement in the 
 valley, it is true; but there was enthusiasm, — a poor 
 substitute. Polygamy, as practically illustrated in the 
 life around him, was not very offensive, he thought. 
 Of course, if one indulged his imagination, there 
 might be something offensive in the idea of one man 
 living with three or four women in a one-room cabin; 
 but then he could put a check on his imagination. 
 
 The homes that Brand had entered, and to which he 
 proposed to bring Carissa, were well ordered. They 
 
 216 
 
IXTRODUCTIOX TO THE VALLEY 
 
 were large, commodious, and well arranged for pri- 
 vacy. President Young's new house, for example, 
 afforded ample accommodation for his fifteen wives; 
 and he was building another adjoining, that would 
 give plenty of room for the proper disposition of his 
 household. 
 
 He would like Carissa to see how courteous and 
 considerate a man could be even under such trying 
 conditions! 
 
 Brigham observed Maggie on her first arrival, 
 remarked that she seemed a likely girl, and spoke of 
 giving her a temporary home in his own household. 
 But after an interview with Elder Carson, during 
 which it was suggested that Brother Brand was not an 
 enthusiastic advocate of polygamy, but that he would 
 like to take ^Maggie to wait on his wife during her ill- 
 ness, he reconsidered the matter. 
 
 'Y^ou will be doing a kindness as well as serving 
 yourself." he said paternally, when, acting upon the 
 hint, he opened the matter to Brand. ''I expect to 
 have use for Brother ]\Iorey and it will be advanta- 
 geous to the girl to have a good home." 
 
 There were some of the people who had not received 
 the new revelation as enthusiastically as had been 
 hoped. 
 
 It is always a bad thing for a religious community to 
 be divided upon a question of doctrine. Brigham real- 
 ized this. He himself was thoroughly committed and 
 he was willing to make personal sacrifices, to a limited 
 extent, in order to secure the thorough committal of 
 others. He saw that Brand would naturally become 
 an influential factor in the community; and if he was 
 at all favorably inclined to Maggie it would be only 
 
 217 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 right that he should have the opportunity of becoming 
 her natural protector. 
 
 "I hope that your wife will soon be able to take her 
 endowments," he said. "Of course you are anxious 
 to have her do it. The privilege will be granted on 
 application." 
 
 Brand said nothing of the cause of her indisposition, 
 other than the fatigue of the journey. It would, he 
 knew, be a great step gained if she could be taken 
 through the Endowment House. He made up his 
 mind to prepare the way as early as possible. 
 
 One crisp winter's day he went to the tabernacle 
 accompanied by Maggie. 
 
 "We must not let her become a heathen altogether," 
 he said to his wife. "I am anxious that you should 
 go, too. Haven't you been cooped up long enough? 
 It will do you good." 
 
 But Carissa only shook her head and turned away 
 wearily. Her strength had returned during these 
 months. She knew that an exertion of will and a 
 resumption of interest were all that was lacking to 
 perfect health; but these seemed impossible. She had 
 observed with unspeakable anxiety her husband's 
 growing interest in the life of the city. She saw 
 clearly that he was attached to the people, and was firm 
 in his faith, and the hope of being able to persuade 
 him to leave the valley was daily growing weaker. 
 More and more she realized that Brand had deceived 
 her. She had been led to believe that he who had sought 
 her love was the champion of pure Christianity, as 
 opposed to the corruptions of an apostate church, and 
 to look forward to association with his people as a holy 
 privilege; for he represented Zion to her as a com- 
 
 218 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE VALLEY 
 
 munity of whole-souled disciples of Christ, who would 
 exhibit all the primitive virtues that marked the apos- 
 tolic age. 
 
 This belief had not been disturbed by any criticism 
 or persecution from without, for she had nerved her 
 heart to meet these things. Had not Christ been 
 hated and rejected? Had not the early church been 
 cruelly slandered and persecuted? She was content to 
 be counted worthy to share their sufferings, so that she 
 might also have the privilege of sharing their life of 
 devotion to the truth. 
 
 This had been her mental attitude during the first 
 months of her married life; and so absorbed had she 
 become in her love for her husband, fast ripening 
 into reverence and her devotion to his church, that 
 she had given not one regretful thought to her old 
 happy life. 
 
 She started on the long journey overland with much 
 the same devout and eager expectation as characterizes 
 a Mohammedan devotee setting out on a pilgrimage to 
 Mecca. 
 
 Her illusion was first pierced when Brand began to 
 glorify, in the Old Testament worthies, conduct and 
 customs which she found it hard to justify. 
 
 From that time there had been a steady disenchant- 
 ment, until at last there had come the final disclosure, 
 that polygamy — the basis of most of the charges 
 against the Mormons, charges that had been indig- 
 nantly denied over and over again, which she herself 
 had declared to others were false and infamous — was 
 nevertheless being taught and practiced by the Saints. 
 From a loyal defender she had become a bitter denier 
 of the faith. 
 
 219 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 She found herself marveling at the calm air with 
 which Brand went to and fro among the people, and 
 when she discovered that he fraternized with the 
 church leaders, and was received by them as a brother 
 beloved and honored, she felt a distinct and withering 
 distrust of him. 
 
 There were times when it seemed so impossible to 
 believe that he, whom she had regarded as the noblest 
 of men, was really associated with all this horror, that 
 she began to doubt her own sanity. 
 
 There could be no question, however, that Brand 
 believed it all, and that her unbelief would simply 
 constitute an ever-broadening chasm between them. 
 This seemed intolerable. What would be left if this 
 should be the final issue? Her love, strong, true, incor- 
 ruptible drew her in one direction; but it seemed to 
 demand the sacrifice of instincts that were an essential 
 part of her nature. She still believed that he would 
 be true to his assurance, that the foul institution of 
 polygamy should never curse their home. Had he not 
 told her that there were many monogamist Mormons, 
 and that in this matter there was no compulsion? 
 
 Might she not then conceal the repugnance that pos- 
 sessed her, and for love's sake tolerate what she could 
 not endorse? 
 
 While Brand and Maggie were at the tabernacle, 
 alone this long afternoon, Carissa debated the matter 
 with herself. It was a weary struggle, but her heart- 
 hunger made love to triumph. 
 
 Baffled, broken-winged love gained the victory. 
 Carissa determined that she would gather up the frag- 
 ments of her happiness. She would submit, where 
 submission was possible; and she sought to pray in 
 
 220 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE VALLEY 
 
 the language of childhood for strength in her desper- 
 ate need. 
 
 When Brand returned he found her unusually cheer- 
 ful and seemingly happy; her father's Bible was open 
 before her and a bright look was in her eyes. 
 
 "Dearest," he said, "the services were wonderfully 
 inspiring. I am sorry you missed them." 
 
 "I am glad you enjoyed them," she responded 
 bravely, smiling as she rose to meet him. "I, too, 
 have spent the time profitably." 
 
 He caught the suggestion of her new attitude. 
 
 "What have you been doing? You look like your 
 old self. Whatever it is, I shall certainly prescribe it 
 for you." 
 
 Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. How intensely 
 she desired that every barrier should be broken down 
 between them! Impulsively, she cried, "Oh, I do 
 need you so much. You know that I have trusted you 
 with my life. I have been wrong to spoil your happi- 
 ness by shutting myself in seclusion. I will go with 
 you into this life and see it as it is." 
 
 In spite of herself she trembled. 
 
 It was a brave effort, and Brand was profoundly 
 moved. His better nature responded to the appeal. 
 He believed his own words as he said: "You shall 
 never regret it. I only want you to see this life, and 
 judge my people understandingly. This is a good 
 day, Carissa." He held her in his arms and she was 
 happy. 
 
 221 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE LION OF THE LORD 
 
 There are very few, even of the inhabitants of Utah 
 at the present day, who can have an adequate concep- 
 tion of the conditions that prevailed at the period of 
 which we are writing. For half a century, civilizing 
 forces have been at work, and for the past twenty 
 years the peculiar institutions founded by the first 
 Mormon leaders have been subjected to modifying 
 influences from without. The building of the trans- 
 continental railroad, and the consequent broadening of 
 commercial relations with other sections of the coun- 
 try, the influx of non-Mormons, the work of Christian 
 missionaries, the establishment of the public school 
 system, the development of progressive ideas among 
 the Mormons themselves, and the separation of church 
 and state, in accordance with the spirit of the federal 
 constitution, have all had their part in eliminating 
 those features that were grimly characteristic of that 
 time, when Brigham Young held sway as the "Lion of 
 the Lord." 
 
 The Mormon political ideal was an absolute theoc- 
 racy, and in those days it came very close to realiza- 
 tion. 
 
 In the first place Utah territory was anything but a 
 republic. Brigham Young was more than governor. 
 He was more than dictator in political affairs. He 
 was more than mere president of the church. No man 
 ever claimed more despotic power than he exercised. 
 
 222 
 
THE LION OF THE LORD 
 
 He controlled in all matters of state and municipal 
 government. He was sure of endorsement and unques- 
 tioning support, when he made his famous declaration, 
 "I am and will be governor, and no power can hinder 
 it, until the Lord Almighty says: 'Brigham you need 
 not be governor any longer.' " He appointed places 
 of residence for the people, assigned them their tasks, 
 dictated to them in the management of their domestic 
 concerns, acted as umpire in the choosing of their 
 wives, pronounced marriage and divorce at will, for- 
 mulated their policy in dealing with strangers, and, in 
 a word, played the role of autocrat in the disposition 
 of life and property and in the adjustment of matters 
 the most private and sacred. 
 
 In his addresses on public occasions and in the pul- 
 pit, he was often vulgar and vituperative, and yet 
 much of what he said was regarded by the practical, 
 hard-headed men about him as the acme of good sense 
 and "mountain wisdom." 
 
 At the very time when Carissa in New York was 
 making preparations for the long journey, and dreaming 
 of the holy city and the peculiar people of God, 
 Brigham was making use of the following "inspired" 
 language in the tabernacle at Salt Lake: 
 
 "I say, rather than that apostates should flourish 
 here, I will unsheath my bowie-knife and conquer or 
 die. Now, you nasty apostates, clear out, or judgment 
 will be put to the line and righteousness to the plum- 
 met. (Voices generally, "Go it, go it".) If you say it 
 is right, raise your hands. (All hands up.) Let us call 
 upon the Lord to assist us in this and every good 
 work." 
 
 In the same discourse he related a dream of the 
 
 223 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 night before, during which he described his exaspera- 
 tion against an apostate, and said: 
 
 "I took my large bowie-knife that I used to wear 
 as a bosom pin in Nauvoo, and cut one of their throats 
 from ear to ear, saying: 'Go to Hell across lots.' " 
 
 It may be argued that Brigham needed to use vio- 
 lent language, and to employ violent measures as well, 
 if he would hold in any sort of subjection the mass of 
 people that was at this time pouring into the valley. 
 
 The first comers to Deseret had been expelled from 
 Missouri and from Illinois, for years they had been 
 unsettled, living a precarious, wandering existence. 
 The fever of unrest was in their blood. They had 
 been taught that all nations and peoples would, some 
 day, be subject to them, but in the meanwhile they 
 were exasperated and embittered by their long hard- 
 ships and cruel persecutions. What spiritual sensibil- 
 ities they had originally possessed, had been brutalized 
 by the awful experiences of the past; so that the 
 refinements of speech would have been lost upon 
 them, and Brigham felt that they needed the rough 
 spur of his harsh and vulgar utterances, as their cattle 
 needed the ox-goad. And this is true. 
 
 For there was no spiritualizing, or refining power in 
 their system of belief ; and so this "religious commu- 
 nity" had to be driven to submission by taunts, sneers, 
 vituperation, and by the display of a cruel and domi- 
 neering will. 
 
 In such a community, where the dominating faith 
 was both materialistic and sensual, conditions of 
 necessity prevailed that were very far removed from 
 the fancy picture that Carissa in her ignorant enthusi- 
 asm had been led to form. 
 
 224 
 
THE LION OF THE LORD 
 
 Brand was fully aware of these conditions, but they 
 did not trouble him. He enjoyed the confidence of 
 Brigham and his counsellors, and shared their polit- 
 ical aspirations as well as their religious ideals. His 
 association with them restored the tone of his church 
 loyalty. The result was that he remembered his 
 yielding to Carissa's point of view with reference to 
 polygamy, with something like shame. This act of 
 yielding could not but seem a weakness, in a society 
 where it was considered unfitting for a man to give 
 precedence to a woman. 
 
 He was seated one morning in Brigham's cabinet, 
 waiting for the President's return. He was thinking 
 that if his real attitude toward Carissa should become 
 known, it would be regarded with contempt. And 
 yet, he had not been really subservient after all, he 
 reflected. She was different from most of these 
 women. How different from Maggie, for instance! 
 Well, he was glad she was different— in a way— 
 though Maggie was certainly a very charming bit of 
 humanityl But this very difference had made it 
 necessary for him to exercise caution. He was glad 
 that she had at last decided to end her life of seclu- 
 sion. Somehow, he hoped that she would be im- 
 pressed much as he had been, by the life of the 
 people. Brand arose to greet the President on his 
 entrance, although their interviews were never very 
 
 formal. . , -n • u 
 
 "Keep your seat. Brother Brand," cried Brigham 
 cordially, and he did not remove his hat when he sat 
 down. He planted himself squarely in his big chair 
 and prepared to open the matter in hand. Brand knew 
 him to be slow in his movements but positive in his 
 
 225 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 speech. There was a peculiarly heavy droop about 
 one eyelid, but his face was rather pleasing than 
 otherwise, although usually cold and reserved in 
 expression. 
 
 He was scarcely seated, when the door opened and 
 someone entered the room. 
 
 Brand observed a deep frown settle upon Brigham's 
 forehead, and his manner became very reserved. 
 
 The intruder was a large, solidly built man of mid- 
 dle age, with a frank open countenance and an air of 
 diffidence that he sought to overcome. He was ad- 
 vancing into the room when Brigham stopped him. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" The words were 
 spoken slowly and without undue emphasis, but con- 
 veyed a blunt menace that was unmistakable. 
 
 The man removed his hat and looked his conster- 
 nation. 
 
 "Why, Brother Brigham" — but Brigham interrupted 
 him with "Whom did you have at your house last 
 night?" 
 
 The man was speechless with embarrassment. 
 
 Brigham straightened himself slightly in his chair 
 and his face flushed. 
 
 "I wonder at your impudence to enter my presence, 
 after housing over night that damned Gladdenite 
 exhorter." 
 
 His visitor raised his hand in deprecation of his 
 anger, and managed to stammer in reply: "I meant 
 no harm. He could find no other place, and was in 
 need. I came to-day to pay my tithing." 
 
 Brigham's face did not relax its sternness. His 
 voice was hard and repellent in its cold contempt. 
 
 "We do not take tithing from our enemies; I have 
 
 226 
 
THE LION OF THE LORD 
 
 said that our people should have no intercourse with 
 apostates. Your disobedience cuts you off from our 
 fellowship, and fixes your lot with those whom you 
 serve. Unless you repent of your wickedness there is 
 no chance of your restoration." 
 
 Brand was watching the scene with absorbing inter- 
 est. He understood Brigham's position, for he knew 
 with what deadly enmity he regarded the Apostate 
 Gladden and his followers. His own pity for the man 
 was almost lost as he realized the character of his fault. 
 
 The man before them seemed utterly overpowered, 
 as the enormity of his offense was brought home to 
 him. Brigham watched him steadily; he saw the 
 suffused face, the unsteady posture, the nervous fum- 
 bling of the hands that held his hat. Presently the 
 man looked up with the dumb appeal of a stricken 
 brute and, with a despairing gesture, pleaded for 
 mercy. The attitude would have been highly ludi- 
 crous for such a man, had it not been for the intense 
 air of earnestness that accompanied it. 
 
 Brigham's manner slowly changed, the hard lines of 
 his face relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair with 
 an expression of satisfaction. 
 
 "Do you repent of your iniquity, Brother Bowen?" 
 
 The man raised his hand to his face and clumsily 
 wiped the sweat from his brow. When he spoke his 
 voice was tremulous. 
 
 "I will guard myself in the future." 
 
 His words were almost inarticulate. 
 
 "That is well," said Brigham, as if in dismissal. 
 "You may take your tithing money over to the office." 
 
 As he reached the door Brigham again addressed 
 him: 
 
 227 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "By the way, you may give my kind remembrances 
 to Sister Bowen. Tell her she must come and see 
 me." 
 
 As the door closed, Brigham settled back comfort- 
 ably in his chair, and remarked lightly: 
 
 "He needed that lesson. He's one of those who 
 have been priding themselves that they are 'old Mor- 
 mons.' " 
 
 He glanced shrewdly at Brand, and continued: 
 
 "He doesn't take kindly to plurality. That's a sure 
 indication that he will bear watching. When a man 
 persists in neglecting one part of the law of God, it is 
 quite safe to question his loyalty in all the rest." 
 
 As he spoke he turned with great deliberation to his 
 desk. Brand could not help but wonder if that last 
 observation was made for his benefit. 
 
 "What's the attitude of these 'old Mormons'? I 
 have heard of them. Are they numerous?" asked 
 Brand, feeling not quite at his ease. 
 
 Brigham's lip curled ironically. 
 
 "There aren't many of them, and Brother Bowen is 
 a fair specimen. What there are, will soon be rooted 
 out. They are mostly ruled by women, and reject the 
 new and everlasting covenant. They are backsliders 
 in heart, and are on the very brink of apostasy." He 
 turned suddenly and Brand saw that there was much 
 suppressed passion in his face. "It would have been 
 infinitely better for their black hearts of unbelief if 
 they had never perceived the light of God's revela- 
 tion, for those who perceive and reject will certainly 
 be damned," he said, passionately. 
 
 There was silence in the room. Presently Brigham 
 turned again to his desk and extracted certain papers. 
 
 228 
 
THE LION OF THE LORD 
 
 As he again faced about, all trace of passion had dis- 
 appeared from his countenance. 
 
 "I rely upon you, Brother Brand," he said confi- 
 dently. 'Take these papers and look them over and 
 report what you find. They relate to our dealings 
 with the government at Washington. We are liable 
 to have some troublesome visitors before many 
 months, and it is well to exercise diplomacy. But it 
 will not always be so." 
 
 Brand rose as he took the papers. Brigham ex- 
 tended his hand cordially, in dismissal, and said, "I 
 have heard of your wife's illness. You had better 
 take her out a little. Such close seclusion is not good 
 for her." 
 
 As Brand passed up the street, he noticed the great 
 throngs of people, and thought to himself that 
 Brother Brigham was right in predicting that careful 
 diplomacy would not always be necessary. 
 
 He recalled a favorite toast that had been responded 
 to at a recent gathering. 
 
 "We can rock the cradle of liberty without Uncle 
 Sam to help us." 
 
 "That will soon be a fact as well as a sentiment," 
 he thought. "This city is filling up astonishingly 
 fast. The country is being occupied by thrifty set- 
 tlers; more are coming every year. We shall soon 
 control this entire country west of the Missouri River, 
 and as our power and prestige increase we shall attract 
 to ourselves vast multitudes from every nation." 
 
 He felt that it was good to be associated with the 
 movement, and as he yielded to the fascination of his 
 ambitious desires, he felt a new inrush of loyalty to 
 his church. 
 
 229 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Could Carissa have read his heart as he entered her 
 sitting-room, she would have known that there was at 
 work within him a combination of forces, that fatally 
 threatened the fulfillment of her lingering hopes. 
 
 230 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 For Carissa's debut, as it may be called, Brand ex- 
 pressed his desire that they should together attend a 
 party to be given at the Beehive House, in honor of 
 two French scholars and writers, who had come by 
 way of California to study the religious peculiarities 
 and social customs of this strange sect. 
 
 Brand knew well that on such an occasion the best 
 face possible would be put upon their institutions, in 
 order that these strangers who had the ear of the 
 world might be favorably impressed, and he was 
 anxious for Carissa to receive her introduction under 
 the most auspicious circumstances. 
 
 Carissa felt a little nervous when she entered the 
 handsomely furnished drawing-room, and realized 
 that all eyes were upon her. Her beauty, her hus- 
 band's position as a man of affairs, her former seclu- 
 sion, the many rumors that had been whispered about 
 as to the cause of it, and her natural air of refinement 
 and distinction, all tended to make her conspicuously 
 the object of strong curiosity. Brigham marked her 
 entrance and came forward to greet her. The-re was 
 nothing offensive about his manner. On the contrary, 
 he tried his best to be agreeable. But he was no 
 ladies' man at the best of times. 
 
 He introduced her to several of his wives as a matter 
 of course, and then turned to Brand and said, "I want 
 
 231 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 you and your wife to meet Mr. Breilley. He is a very 
 interesting man, has traveled a lot, and will remain 
 with us till the spring. He has eyes in his head, 
 and is here to use them. We must take care that 
 he sees the right things." 
 
 Carissa presently became aware that Brigham was 
 looking at her shrewdly. 
 
 "I suppose you have not seen much of this new life 
 yet, Sister Brand? I understand that you were not 
 reared in the faith. Oftentimes inherited tradition 
 dies hard. There is doubtless much that is strange to 
 you here?" he said genially, and with a touch of 
 deference in his manner. 
 
 "Yes," she said, answering only his last question. 
 
 Brigham went on, 'You must take time. Learn by 
 experience, and do not harken to foolish imaginings. 
 You see everything now in a state of crudity; don't 
 look too intently at necessary processes. From the 
 confused elementary mass, we will build a common- 
 wealth that shall be unique for its purity, strength, 
 and glory. That is certain. The Lord has spoken, 
 and we are but carrying out His purposes." 
 
 While he was speaking Carissa was impressed by 
 his sincerity, even though it contradicted all her pre- 
 conceptions. But she asked herself if he had not 
 practiced deception so thoroughly and persistently 
 that he had deceived himself into believing his own 
 words. 
 
 She was relieved, however, not to feel extreme re- 
 pugnance toward this man, who exerted so pov/erful 
 an influence over her husband, and whom she must 
 often meet, should she adhere to her resolution to 
 share her husband's life. 
 
 232 
 
RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 A general movement brought M. Breilley in touch 
 with the group. 
 
 "My friend regrets exceedingly to miss the privi- 
 lege of paying his respects to Your Excellency," said 
 the Frenchman, bowing deferentially. "The rigors of 
 the journey have left him utterly indisposed." 
 
 His eyes rested admiringly upon Carissa as he was 
 presented to her. 
 
 "It is a great pleasure for a weary traveler to en- 
 counter such generous hospitality, such glorious scen- 
 ery, and such beautiful ladies, in this far-away land of 
 the mountains," he said, gallantly. 
 
 Brigham replied in his grandest manner, "We trust 
 that your stay will be agreeable. We desire to give 
 opportunity for the representatives of every people to 
 understand this gathering from all nations, in these 
 latter days." 
 
 "I have been about your city and have found much 
 of supreme interest. But why have I encountered no 
 one from my own land?" inquired monsieur, with sly 
 innocence. 
 
 "The French are less open to religious impressions 
 than other peoples," replied Brigham, bluntly. "It is 
 difficult for our missionaries to break through the phil- 
 osophical cynicism, with which they have been imbued 
 by Voltaire." 
 
 Monsieur looked pained and surprised, as he said, 
 "I remember one of your agents who visited France a 
 few years ago, and a public discussion concerning his 
 mission that appeared in our journals." 
 
 "Some of our ablest men have preached for years in 
 your great cities, but they have encountered indiffer- 
 ence, pre-occupation with the sciences, and absorption 
 
 233 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 in light literature or in the trivialities of an artificial 
 society. Yet there is no country where our doctrines 
 are more needed than France." 
 
 'Tlease explain," begged M. Breilley. 
 
 'Your civilization is corrupt, because it disregards 
 the life of the home and undervalues the importance 
 of the child. Your women evade the responsibilities 
 of motherhood, your youth are frivolous, and your 
 children are either killed before they are born, or neg- 
 lected during the period of infancy. With us marriage 
 is a saving rite, motherhood a divinely imposed obli- 
 gation, and a numerous offspring the glory of the 
 father. The first great commandment given to our 
 father Adam, and later to Noah, was 'multiply and re- 
 plenish the earth.' " Brigham spoke with the air of a 
 prophet. 
 
 Monsieur smiled and said: "But, sir, do you seri- 
 ously defend the practice of polygamy from the stand- 
 point of morality?" 
 
 He glanced at Carissa, who involuntarily flushed 
 crimson. 
 
 "Certainly," Brigham replied. "Society is corrupt 
 because it has disregarded this law of God. Why is 
 there recognized one law of sexual morality for men 
 and another for women? Is not the fact a sig^nificant 
 one, that there is nothing in nature to prevent one man 
 from being the father of a hundred or more children 
 a year, while nature herself prohibits a woman from 
 being the mother of more than ten or twelve in a 
 lifetime?" 
 
 "Yes, "responded the Frenchman, dryly, "society has 
 certainly failed to recognize as the first law of life the 
 necessity or the desirability of multiplying the 
 
 234 
 
RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 species at as rapid a rate as possible; as it is, the 
 world has been so crowded at times that even war and 
 pestilence have seemed a blessing." 
 
 "And yet never have the waste places been fully 
 occupied. There is room for the entire population of 
 the earth to find home and sustenance on the unim- 
 proved portion of this continent alone," said Brigham, 
 with more courage than discretion. 
 
 "You connect, I believe, the second coming of 
 Christ with the speedy population of the earth?" re- 
 marked the Frenchman, with an amused interest. 
 
 "Certainly. The prime object of creation was the 
 multiplication of the human species, in order that pre- 
 existent spirits, the offspring of God, might have the 
 opportunity of becoming incarnate in the flesh. When 
 this work has been accomplished, then will the pur- 
 poses of this terrestrial planet be fulfilled. Then 
 Christ will come to reign and we shall reign with 
 Him." 
 
 "This is most interesting," commented Breilley. "I 
 must certainly inform myself concerning this system." 
 
 Then turning to Carissa, he said: "I will confess to 
 you that I had formed the opinion that Mormons were 
 unreasoning fanatics, and that their system was one of 
 great immorality and lust." 
 
 Carissa knew not how to reply. Brand was by her 
 side, evidently pleased at the turn of the conversation. 
 Brigham was observing her intently. It was with an 
 evident effort that she finally said: 
 
 "You have doubtless observed in your travels that 
 there are many religious systems taught among men. 
 Christ Himself has given us a rule by which we may 
 judge of their truth. 'By their fruits ye shall know 
 
 235 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 them.' So, you see, it is neither by theory nor by 
 hearsay, but by the test of practical experience and 
 observation that we are to judge of truth." 
 
 Carissa was feeling for her answer, and when it came 
 it was the expression of her deepest convictions. She 
 looked up at her husband. It was for him that she 
 continued speaking: 
 
 "Religion is more than a system, more than a 
 theory, more than a method. It is a life; and wher- 
 ever life is found, it is 'the most holy that is most 
 Christian.' Any system that helps to holy living can 
 come only from God; and no system that blunts the 
 spiritual perceptions, and deadens spiritual suscepti- 
 bilities, can for a moment claim His authorship." 
 
 Brigham's face darkened. There was seemingly 
 nothing in her words to give offense, except that he 
 knew something of her attitude of rebellion, and 
 guessed, from her expression and tone, her intention 
 to test by her own standard of purity, the theory and 
 life of this people. But he only said: 
 
 "Very true, and we only desire honest, unprejudiced 
 investigation. But will you find seats to listen to the 
 music? A slight programme has been arranged, I 
 believe." 
 
 Among the company Carissa met a sweet-faced, low- 
 voiced woman, who was introduced to her as Sister 
 Pratt, and who manifested a desire for closer 
 acquaintance. 
 
 "I have heard of your illness and should have come 
 to see you, but I have been so occupied with my chil- 
 dren," she said, prettily. 
 
 "It seems disgraceful to be ill in a climate so per- 
 fect as this," Carissa responded. 
 
 236 
 
RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 Brigham turned to Brand and said, "Come into my 
 cabinet a few moments, I want to speak with you." 
 
 In a few minutes Brand found President Young wait- 
 ing for him, seated in his great arm chair, his heavy 
 figure settled in a squatting attitude. 
 
 "Is your wife a good Mormon, Brother Brand?" 
 
 Brand was startled by the question. His first impulse 
 was to evade a direct answer. His relations with 
 Brigham had been uniformly pleasant, but he knew his 
 powers of penetration, and his domineering will. This 
 thought, with the uncertainty of the extent of his 
 questioner's knowledge, and the fact that he was 
 taken by surprise, determined him to frankness. 
 
 "No! I cannot say she is, but " 
 
 "You're going to say that you hope to persuade her 
 to believe," Brigham interrupted with a sneer. "Let 
 me tell you something. She is hoping to persuade you 
 to apostatize." 
 
 Brigham uttered the last word with the stress of sub- 
 dued passion. 
 
 "Impossible!" Brand ejaculated. 
 
 "It is not impossible. On the contrary, it's certain. 
 Where did you find her?" 
 
 "In the west of England. In Cornwall." 
 
 "What did she know of Mormonism when you 
 married her?" 
 
 "Nothing, except what we were instructed to preach 
 at that time." 
 
 "Was she baptized?" 
 
 "Yes, in London, when we were married in the fall 
 of 1851." 
 
 "When did you begin to teach her our doctrine?" 
 
 Brand stated the case in a few words, even to 
 
 237 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Carissa's rejection of the revelation on Celestial Mar- 
 riage. He sought to shield her by pleading her inex- 
 perience and rare sensitiveness, but Brigham cut it 
 short. 
 
 "I thought as much, and you promised to stand by 
 her, did you?" 
 
 There was an exceedingly disagreeable quality in 
 Brigham's voice as he put the last question. It 
 seemed as though he was reading the private thoughts 
 of the man before him. 
 
 "What could I do? It would have killed her, had I 
 forced the matter then," exclaimed Brand, desperately. 
 
 "It would have been better for her to die, infinitely 
 better, than to reject the truth." Brigham's tone was 
 cold and hard. "You have bungled this affair fright- 
 fully. You have jeopardized her eternal welfare, and 
 have yourself been led to the very brink of Hell. You 
 have indulged an exclusive passion, and it has blinded 
 you. You have encouraged her in a wilful spirit of 
 independence, when she should have been taught sub- 
 mission. Instead of ruling your own household, like 
 a man, you have submitted to the control of a half- 
 formed, prejudiced girl." 
 
 He leaned forward, his face suffused, and his 
 voice and manner expressing supreme contempt and 
 anger. 
 
 "These are not the ways of the Saints in Zion," he 
 continued, sternly. "Out of such proceedings, apos- 
 tasy has its most virulent growth. Unless you rectify 
 your error, your house will become a plague-spot of 
 sedition; you yourself will become an outcast, and 
 your whole household will be cut off, as unworthy the 
 
 inheritance of light." 
 
 238 
 
RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 So intense was the speaker, and so charged with the 
 spirit of assured conviction, that Brand, who had 
 always regarded him wi.th reverence as the successor 
 of the prophet and the anointed of the Lord, was pro- 
 foundly shaken. 
 
 Under the influence of Brigham's words, he realized 
 keenly how feeble had been his hope of really winning 
 Carissa to look at matters as he did, and he could not 
 but accuse himself of pursuing a weak, temporizing 
 policy. He knew Carissa well, he loved her, admired 
 her, and had begun to fear her. The thought of losing 
 her was intolerable. The case seemed hopeless. 
 
 "What can I do?" he cried and dropped his face into 
 his hands. 
 
 Brigham's manner changed, his tone softened and 
 took on a note of sympathy. 
 
 "That is a question you should have asked me on 
 your first arrival. Your indecision has complicated 
 the matter, but it is not too late. In the first place, 
 you must crucify your own inclination and conquer 
 your own weakness," he said. 
 
 "That is easily said. I want to know how," ex- 
 claimed Brand. 
 
 "Don't you see? Your fault has been that you have 
 humored her. The reason is that you are indulging 
 yourself in an exclusive passion for her. You have 
 lavished upon her as much affection as I have upon 
 my entire household. The result is that you have 
 been a slave to her caprice. Obey God's command, 
 and take to yourself additional wives. It will cool 
 the fever of your blood, and will teach her the salutary 
 lesson of submission." 
 
 "It would alienate her forever, and she would never 
 
 239 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 consent to it," Brand protested, aghast at the near 
 prospect. 
 
 "Then you confess that you have surrendered the 
 reins of government, do you?" Brigham answered 
 roughly. "But you mistake. Are you so blind that 
 you fail to see she will never be won by persuasion? 
 Her pride must be broken, the demon of traditional 
 prejudice must be cast out. You must either lead her 
 to the church, or she will lead you to perjure your 
 soul by abandoning it. You must choose, and you 
 have the power of determining her destiny as well as 
 your own. If you accept counsel, all will be well." 
 
 Brand's belief that Brigham was indeed the prophet 
 of God, and that his resources were practically unlim- 
 ited, turned the scale toward obedience. 
 
 "What would you advise?" he asked rather meekly. 
 
 "There is a comely girl in your own household, who 
 is greatly inclined towards you," said Brigham with a 
 complete return to cordiality. "She ought to be con- 
 genial to your wife. Take her into your affections. I 
 desire you to go to Iron County as early as practic- 
 able. Take this girl with you. Her father is to be 
 sent with the other men. She can go down to help 
 him in getting settled, and can come back with you. 
 You will be there about three months. In the mean- 
 while, say nothing to your wife about it. I will have 
 some of our women call upon her, who will quiet her 
 scruples. But remember, no indecision, no hesitation. 
 This is a path which once entered upon has no turn- 
 ing." With that, Brigham dismissed him. 
 
 When Brand returned to the drawing-room there 
 
 was a curious look upon his face, one that made 
 
 Carissa feel uneasy. 
 
 240 
 
RECEPTION AT THE BEEHIVE 
 
 His first glance caught the full effect of Carissa's 
 winning beauty, spiritualized by suffering and heart 
 conflict; and he needed to turn his eyes away, in order 
 to steel his heart to carry out the plan he had decided 
 upon. 
 
 241 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 OBEDIENCE TO COUNSEL 
 
 The next few weeks formed a period of curious con- 
 flict in Brand's mind. He had undertaken to follow 
 the counsel of President Young and yet he took no 
 definite steps toward the end in view. 
 
 When he was with Carissa he experienced a sensa- 
 tion of remorseful tenderness. What he was about to 
 do would wound her cruelly. She had trusted him 
 and this was to be her reward. At such times his 
 natural susceptibility for Maggie was checked for a 
 while and he felt that he could devote his life alto- 
 gether to the woman he loved. 
 
 This attitude, however, he condemned as a tempta- 
 tion to evil, when he remembered the commands of 
 the church and the duty that had been indicated by his 
 superior. 
 
 To disobey was apostasy and there was no epithet in 
 all the vocabulary of the Saints more terrible than that 
 of apostate. It meant excommunication, eternal ban- 
 ishment, social ostracism, ruin in temporal affairs, 
 persecution and often death. The doctrine of "Blood 
 Atonement" was no stage thunder, in these days. It 
 meant what it said — death to the apostate. 
 
 Brand knew himself well enough to know that he 
 would obey in the last resort. 
 
 One day when the time was approaching for the 
 journey, he found himself standing and watching Mag- 
 
 242 
 
OBEDIENCE TO COUNSEL 
 
 gie, who was moving with her quick springy step 
 across the floor, and indulging his speculation as to 
 whether her charms would make compensation for the 
 loss he must inevitably sustain. 
 
 "Maggie, are you glad that you are going with us to 
 Parowan?" he asked, looking steadily at her. 
 
 There was that in his tone that thrilled her. She 
 stopped before him, the color of her eyes seemed to 
 deepen, and there was a passionate look on her face. 
 
 "I am glad if you are glad," she said, and dropped 
 her eyes before his searching gaze. 
 
 Brand smiled, and turned; as he re-entered the room 
 where his wife was sitting by the window, sewing, he 
 scarcely returned her greeting, but went to his desk, 
 took out some papers mechanically, and began turning 
 them moodily over and over. 
 
 It was a beautiful April day when Brand said good- 
 bye to his wife, and started for Parowan. The journey 
 required about six days of steady traveling, through a 
 region sparsely settled and in its virgin state of wil- 
 derness. Brand and a majority of the party, consisting 
 of men destined for the mines and the iron-works, 
 were provided with saddle horses. The only vehicle 
 was a light two-seated wagon, laden with supplies and 
 drawn by four brisk mules. Maggie was the only pas- 
 senger. The driver was a Canadian by the name of 
 Dix, who had made the trip several times; he was 
 rugged in appearance, well-informed concerning the 
 route and the country, possessed a hailing acquaint- 
 ance with all the settlers, and was running over with 
 anecdote and reminiscence. 
 
 Maggie appeared at her best as she sat at his side, 
 happy with the sense of novelty, responding merrily 
 
 243 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 to his stories, and indulging to the full her anticipa- 
 tions of the future. 
 
 It was remarkable how a few months had developed 
 in her the charms of womanhood. She was observant 
 and imitative, and her association with Carissa had been 
 like a finishing school to her. Her tone was softened, 
 her manners more refined, her speech less brusque, 
 although the rich stores of her physical vitality still 
 found expression in free movement and charming 
 abandon. She had learned the trick of confining her 
 rebellious locks of hair into a picturesque coil of order. 
 Her dress was neat, trim, and appropriate to the out- 
 door life in which she delighted, while her good 
 spirits, merry laughter, and bright sayings were 
 delightful. 
 
 In Brand's presence, there often came over her a 
 timid shyness that was very winning. Maggie found 
 nothing in the idea of polygamy to offend her; while 
 there was much to attract her when she looked at 
 Brand and thought of Carissa. 
 
 Under ordinary conditions, she would not have dared 
 to aspire to Elder Brand, but she might permit herself 
 to hope for the subordinate place of second wife. She 
 would not be monopolizing him. She would be rob- 
 bing no one else, for she never dreamed of putting 
 herself on a par with Carissa. She would not be 
 usurping her place; she would just be making a place 
 of her own, in the thought and generous love and care 
 of this strong man, whom she regarded with such a 
 feeling of reverence. Her faith taught her that there 
 was no wrong, and that there would be nothing humil- 
 iating in her position. More than that, she would 
 be honoring herself, obeying God, and providing for 
 
 244 
 
OBEDIENCE TO COUNSEL 
 
 her eternal as well as temporal happiness. The 
 thought filled her with delight. She felt that even a 
 small fraction of the love of such a man as Brand, 
 would be more satisfying than the undivided devotion 
 of such a man as Quibble. 
 
 During- the first dav, Brand was in the saddle, but it 
 was dull work seeking to converse with Scandinavians 
 and Welshmen, whose knowledge of English was ex- 
 ceedingly limited. He attempted to talk with Morey, 
 but succeeded in eliciting only gruff monosyllables. 
 
 He noticed that Maggie was being amused by the 
 droll stories of the driver, who sought to beguile the 
 way; and he was irritated at the sound of the merry 
 laughter that came from the wagon. 
 
 Thoughts of Carissa still lingered with him, but they 
 began to take on another character. 
 
 He felt that Carissa was blameworthy to have put 
 him in a position where a direct command was neces- 
 sary, and where a natural action was made to look like 
 a mere act of reluctant obedience. The life around 
 him seemed normal enough, and Carissa's attitude of 
 dissent became proportionately abnormal. He put 
 away the remembrance of his own weakness in sharing 
 her point of view. 
 
 ''She might as well adjust herself to the inevitable," 
 he said to himself. From the height of this wise 
 philosophy, it was not unnatural that he should recur 
 to the pleasant thought of appropriating Maggie to 
 himself. It was perfectly right. It was not only 
 sanctioned, it was ordered by the church. Plural- 
 ity was a divine command, and rested upon the fact 
 that a man's love was not like a woman's, in that it 
 did not possess the same element of singleness. 
 
 245 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Besides, had not Brother Brigham said that it was his 
 absorption in a single passion that had weakened his 
 hold upon the truth, so that he had been unable to 
 present it convincingly to his wife? The logic was as 
 easy as an old glove. 
 
 They stopped that night at Cottonwood. Their host 
 possessed a two-roomed log cabin. He had three 
 wives, dull, stolid women, and a round dozen of 
 stupid, dirty children. He had been in the country 
 less than five years, but had a fair sized farm under 
 cultivation and was evidently satisfied. 
 
 Brand was strangely out of sorts. The surroundings 
 did not encourage him to talk with Maggie and yet 
 her bright face allured him. After an unsatisfactory 
 supper, slatternly served, he turned to her and said, 
 "You'd better make yourself comfortable for the night. 
 I'll send in the blankets. I suppose there's no extra 
 bed to be had. You'll have to use one of these 
 settles.'' 
 
 "Where will you sleep?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, anywhere. I must go out and see the horses. 
 Good-night." 
 
 It was a glorious night. The moonlight cast a 
 glamour over every homely detail of the place. Brand 
 stood in the doorway of a rude shed, where the men 
 were fixing themselves for retiring, and looked out 
 upon the scene. A broad sea of shimmering light 
 stretched away to infinity; not a tree or shrub any- 
 where to break the view. A slight mist lay low along 
 the valley, enough to catch and hold the silvery 
 radiance, not enough, however, to obstruct the vision. 
 He was yielding himself to its wonderful charm. How 
 long he remained in this attitude he did not know. A 
 
 246 
 
HE STUDIED THE EASY ATTITUDE OF THE SLEEPER. 
 
OBEDIENCE TO COUNSEL 
 
 feeling of chilliness aroused him. The men in the 
 shed had long since settled themselves to slumber. 
 
 "I'll go and warm myself before I tumble in," he 
 thought. 
 
 As he opened the door, the warmth of the still 
 brightly burning fire was very agreeable. A bed in 
 one corner of the room held two or three children. His 
 host, wrapped in blankets, was snoring heavily on one 
 side of the fire; and on the other was Maggie asleep, 
 her head pillowed on her hand, her hair in disorder, 
 framing the face softened by the flickering light. He 
 stood with his back to the fire and watched her. The 
 chill was leaving his blood. He felt the waves of 
 warmth mounting upward, and wrapping him in as 
 with a blanket. It was a physical sensation of animal 
 comfort, but it affected him mentally. He studied 
 the easy attitude of the sleeper. The covering was 
 well about her, but the throat was sufficiently exposed 
 to show its exquisite contour. The lips, too, were 
 ruddy, and parted dangerously. He crossed the room 
 softly, and bent over the wide bench where she was 
 lying. He observed the regular breathing, the long 
 dark lashes, the slightly parted lips. He moved 
 slightly that he might not intercept the light falling 
 full upon her. 
 
 She might be his, by permission of all that he held 
 sacred in religion. It would do no harm to awaken 
 her. That snoring brute on the other side of the fire 
 would be hard to arouse. He touched her lips gently 
 with his own. 
 
 She opened her eyes, startled for a moment. 
 
 "Maggie, I've come to say good-night again. Do 
 
 you care?" 
 
 247 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 The blanket rolled back and her warm arm stole 
 about his neck. 
 
 Her clinging embrace intoxicated his senses. All 
 this wealth of passionate life was his. The rich treas- 
 ure of her sensuous beauty was at his disposal. She 
 yielded herself freely, as in a delirium of joy, impelled 
 by a love that was absorbing. 
 
 He felt the hot blood throb in his temples. The 
 spirit of the despoiler was upon him. 
 
 There was a flashing thought of Carissa, but it irri- 
 tated him, and he put it away. He passed his arm 
 about Maggie, kneeling by the low pine couch. 
 
 "Are you satisfied that I have come?" he asked 
 softly. Her sweet warm breath was in his face. "I 
 shall marry you, darling. You understand? We may 
 have to keep it secret for a time. Can I trust you?" 
 
 No words were necessary. He knew that she would 
 yield and obey in all that he desired. She asked no 
 questions, made no conditions. She simply tightened 
 the pressure of her warm, clinging embrace. At 
 length he released himself gently. He looked long 
 at the eyes that smiled up at his with a satisfied look, 
 
 "Good-night, dear." 
 
 With a lingering touch, he adjusted the covers about 
 her, stooped and kissed the full, red, smiling lips, and 
 left her to dream of the happiness that had come into 
 her life. 
 
 As he passed out and made his way to the shed, 
 where he had spread his blankets, he was already look- 
 ing into the future, and hardening his heart against 
 any obstacle, though it took the form of an outraged 
 wife. 
 
 Yes, Carissa might oppose him. Well, what of it? 
 
 248 
 
OBEDIENCE TO COUNSEL 
 
 Brother Brigham was right; she must learn to 
 adjust herself to her conditions. What solution could 
 be simpler? 
 
 He thought of what had just passed. It was simply 
 an irrevocable committal of himself to the counsel of 
 his church. 
 
 On the sixth day they reached Fillmore, the terri- 
 torial capital, a poor looking village, surrounded with 
 a palisade instead of a wall. 
 
 Their road had led them amid a variety of mountain 
 scenery, usually wild and rugged. They had passed 
 through a few settlements of barren, almost desolate, 
 aspect, but had met with hospitable reception and 
 generous treatment. The people were as a rule igno- 
 rant, of foreign aspect, hard workers, and displayed 
 no superficial piety, uncultivated in manner and rude 
 in habits and speech. But they were devoted to the 
 church, and fanatical in their ready obedience to the 
 will of their superiors. 
 
 In the majority of the homes where they stopped, 
 there were two or more wives, who had become used 
 to the system, and herded together with little friction. 
 Occasionally they met with people of considerable 
 intelligence, with whom Brand found it a pleasure to 
 converse; but as a rule he was thrown back upon the 
 society of Maggie, and there was that about her fresh 
 and winning ways, that made the association 
 delightful. 
 
 On two occasions they had been compelled to drive 
 all night long through narrow, lonely canyons before 
 reaching a place of shelter. Each time Brand had tied 
 his horse to the wagon, and taken his place with 
 Maggie who nestled by his side listening contentedly 
 
 249 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 to the music of the crunching wheels, the clatter of 
 the mules' feet upon the rocky road, the occasional 
 ejaculations of the driver, and the constant undertone 
 of the dashing mountain stream that guided them 
 onward. 
 
 There was a weird fascination about these narrow 
 rocky defiles by moonlight. To traverse them seemed 
 the one serious business of life. Any former existence 
 and associations took on an air of unreality, became 
 as unsubstantial as the moonlight. There was an 
 insistence about the reiterated refrain of the jolting 
 wagon, and the other concordant elements of this sym- 
 phony of mountain travel, that made their world seem 
 very small, and yet all-important. 
 
 Brand yielded himself utterly to the charm of Mag- 
 gie's sweet surrender. He no longer regretted the 
 choice he had made, no matter what might be the in- 
 convenience awaiting him in that other world, to which 
 he must sometime return. 
 
 At Fillmore he found the people in a state of con- 
 siderable excitement, over the reported depredation of 
 the Pah-Ute Indians, and readily consented to join a 
 party that was being organized for the purpose of keep- 
 ing them in check. Before starting he sought out a 
 lodging for Maggie with the resident bishop, and left 
 Morey in charge of the wagon and supplies. 
 
 250 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM CARISSA'S JOURNAL 
 
 For several days after Brand's departure for Paro- 
 wan, Carlssa saw no one outside her immediate family, 
 except the man Bovven, who came in the mornings, at 
 Brand's request, to do any heavy work that might be 
 required. There was little for him to do, but he was 
 always punctual in his attendance. Carissa scarcely 
 noticed him; he was a big, pleasant-featured, slow- 
 moving man, who made no claim on her attention while 
 the painful character of her thoughts fully occupied 
 her. One morning, however, he lingered some time 
 after she had dismissed him. She thought he must 
 have failed to understand her and repeated that there 
 was nothing more to do. 
 
 "Thank you. Miss," he responded, rolling his hat 
 awkwardly, but making no move to depart. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, suddenly perceiving that 
 he was seeking for an opening to say something. "Is 
 there anything I can do for you? Are your wife and 
 family all well?" 
 
 "Yes, thank you. Miss, it isn't that anything's wrong 
 — leastways not in that way." He looked slowly 
 around with an exaggerated air of caution and lowered 
 his voice, "I 'm jest a thinkin' of goin* away." 
 
 There was something very ludicrous in the mingled 
 air of fear, embarrassment and cunning with which he 
 made this announcement, but Carissa felt no inclina- 
 tion to mirth. 
 
 251 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I jest can't stand it here no longer," he went on. 
 "You mustn't tell, for they'll stop me if they can. 
 But it's got to be pizen just to breathe this here 
 air. 
 
 Carissa understood what he mear^t, and a feeling of 
 respect for this hulking figure of a man, — began to find 
 place in her thoughts. 
 
 "Where will you go?" she asked a little wistfully. 
 
 "I dunno yet, but me and my woman has talked it 
 over. You see. Miss, we warn't brought up to this 
 here bizness of marryin* more than one woman, and 
 mine says that she jest won't stand it, nor I don't 
 want to nuther. Did ye hear about that Elder, jest 
 come from a mission, marryin' three women all to 
 onct — it's clean disgustin', and two of 'em were a gal 
 and her own mother." 
 
 The picture was utterly revolting, but Carissa did 
 not doubt its truth. It was not so much worse than 
 what she knew must exist. 
 
 "It is all horrible, I know," she shivered a little as 
 she spoke. "But how can you get away?" She 
 looked off over the narrow valley. 
 
 "I dunno. Miss," the man replied. "The old 
 woman is mighty sot on goin' tho' and I reckon we'll 
 make it somehow. I jest thought I'd tell ye about it, 
 you don't seem so very chipper yerself, Miss!" 
 
 The labored effort at sympathy expressed by the shy 
 and clumsy utterance, was almost more than she could 
 endure. There were tears in her eyes and her voice 
 trembled as she expressed the hope that he would 
 succeed. 
 
 "Don't cry, Missie," he said, stretching out his big 
 rough hand. "I've heard tell that the soldiers are 
 
 252 
 
EXTRACTS FROM CARISSA'S JOURNAL 
 
 comin' out this fall. It most likely will be better 
 then, leastways you have nothin' to fear. We're not 
 goin' right away, but I jest thought I'd tell you." 
 
 From the pages of a private journal, begun soon 
 after the birth of her son, and dedicated in her happy 
 days most tenderly to him, we gain certain glimpses 
 of Carissa's life at this period. 
 
 "I had intended that in after years my boy should 
 peruse these pages. But my heart is breaking at the 
 thought that he will discover, if I record the truth, 
 how hollow and worthless is his inherited faith. Noth- 
 ing, nothing has the ring of truth and sincerity. I 
 have been seeking to grope my way back to my 
 father's faith, but everything is dark about me. Old 
 Bible truths have been poisoned by the lecherous 
 touch of unclean fingers." 
 
 "My husband has gone to Parowan. Before he left, 
 I declared to him my utter unbelief in the system he 
 has taught me. While he is gone I will study, not 
 that I may be convinced, but that I may convince 
 him. This, and the future of my darling boy, for 
 whom I would give my life, are all that I have to live 
 for. Oh, my boy, to-night I have been kneeling at 
 your bedside, you were sleeping so sweetly, and I tried 
 to pray. There must be a God somewhere, if I could 
 only find Him. I asked Him to make my heart hard as 
 steel against this system of iniquity." 
 
 "It is impossible to cultivate familiar relations with 
 this people. There is so much that is antagonistic, 
 and yet they are kind and generous and hospitable to 
 strangers, and to those who believe as they do. Noth- 
 ing but ostracism and outlawry are meted out to those 
 
 253 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 who have apostatized. I cannot be separated from my 
 boy and his father. In order to give battle, I must 
 understand where is the vulnerable part of this system. 
 How can I make him know its falsity? While I have 
 been thinking, there has come to me the saying of 
 Jesus — 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' I must 
 collect the evidences of the poisoned fruit of this 
 upas-tree; it ought not to be difficult, they are all 
 around me." 
 
 "This system lays no claim to spirituality. It boasts 
 of being a system of materialism. It would be impos- 
 sible for it to induce spirituality in the lives of its 
 believers. This fact explains the dearth of spiritual 
 feeling among the people. Wherever this feeling does 
 exist, it seems to me that it is only the survival of the 
 old faith they have discarded. I have been attending 
 the ward meetings and the tabernacle services; every- 
 where there are vulgarity, buffoonery, and sacrilege. 
 They have made God after their own image, and 
 picture Him as inspired by their own evil passions. 
 They declare that 'the Father has a body of flesh and 
 bones as tangible as man's.' Like themselves. He is a 
 polygamist. The other evening at a ward meeting, a 
 speaker quoted from a sermon delivered two years ago 
 by Orson Hyde, chief of the apostles, in which he 
 said: 'If at the marriage in Cana of Galilee, Jesus was 
 the bridegroom and took unto Him Mary, Martha, and 
 the other Mary whom Jesus loved, it shocks not 
 our nerves.' He further added, that those who 
 denied this teaching were under the necessity of 
 explaining conduct that was compromising, and 
 actions that were indelicate. My pen falters as I write 
 these words. Is there nothing that they are willing to 
 
 254 
 
EXTRACTS FROM CARISSAb JOURNAL 
 
 leave sacred? I received a caller to-day — a woman, 
 who disgusted me with a physiological argument for 
 'Plurality,' as she calls it. I am afraid that I am getting 
 hardened, for I listened to it all, and after she had 
 ended, asked about her children, as though all that she 
 had said was a matter of course." 
 
 "Nothing but abject subordination is expected of 
 women. To-day the ward bishop, exhorting from the 
 stand, said: 'Wives should obey their husbands in all 
 things, no matter what they are commanded or whether 
 they know it to be wrong. What then? Will they be 
 punished? No; the wicked husbands will go to Hell 
 and be damned to all eternity; but the wives will be 
 taken from him and given to some better man.' What 
 a monstrous teaching! Here is an extract from a ser- 
 mon by President Kimball, expunged and polished for 
 publication in the official paper: 'You women were 
 made more angelic and a little weaker than men. 
 Man is made of rougher material to open the way, cut 
 down bushes and kill the snakes, that women may walk 
 along through life and not soil and tear their skirts. 
 When you see a woman with ragged skirts, you may 
 know she wears the unmentionables. From this time 
 henceforth you may know what woman wears her hus- 
 band's pants. May the Lord bless }'ou, amen.' There 
 is much more that has been said, in the name of a re- 
 ligion that professes to be the most holy form of faith 
 in existence, that is so horrible, so sickening, so re- 
 volting to every refined instinct, that my pen refuses 
 to record it. Surely he, whom I married because he 
 seemed nobler than other men, will at last be led to 
 see the utter depravity of this system of irreligion, 
 and, before you, my darling, shall ever be called to 
 
 255 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 read these pages, he himself will have taught you to 
 hold its teachings in utter detestation." 
 
 "Your father has been gone a long time. How I 
 wish for his return. Several women have called upon 
 me. They do not understand my position. I told 
 them that I did not, could not, believe in the right- 
 eousness of polygamy. They laughed when I said 
 that my husband had assured me that the dark shadow 
 of this institution should, never darken our home. 
 They declared that Tlurality' used to be optional, but 
 that it has now become the law of the church, when- 
 ever a man can afford more than one wife." 
 
 "Oh, why does not my husband return? I will un- 
 burden my heart to him. I will tell him of my fears, 
 and the despair that threatens to overwhelm me. I 
 will implore him to take us away. He has never really 
 known this people. He is deceived as I have been 
 deceived. I have heard his sermons when he has 
 declared his faith in God, in Jesus Christ, and in the 
 Holy Spirit. He cannot know what awful blasphemy 
 is substituted here for these teachings. There is lying 
 before me a printed sermon by Brigham Young, in 
 which he says: 'When our father Adam came into the 
 garden of Eden, he came into it with a celestial body, 
 and brought Eve, 07ie of his wives, with him. He 
 helped to make and organize this world. He is 
 Michael, the Archaiigel, the A?icie?it of Days, about 
 whom holy men have written and spoken. He is our 
 Father a?id oicr God and the only God with whom we 
 have to do. Jesus, our Elder Brother, was begotten 
 in the flesh by the same character that was in the gar- 
 den of Eden, and who is our Father in Heaven. Now 
 let all who may hear these doctrines, pause before they 
 
 256 
 
EXTRACTS FROM CARISSA'S JOURNAL 
 
 make light of them or treat them with indifference, 
 for they will prove their salvation or damnation. Now 
 remember from this time forth and forever, that Jesus 
 Christ was not begotten by the Holy Ghost. If 
 the Son was begotten by the Holy Ghost, it would 
 be very dangerous to baptize and confirm females, and 
 give the Holy Ghost to them, lest He should beget 
 children, to be palmed upon the Elders by the people, 
 bringing the Elders into great difficulties.' 
 
 "How can I pen these words so calmly when they 
 fill my soul with such utter disgust and loathing. What 
 mockery to label such teachings Christianity, and to 
 go through the pretense of producing Scriptural argu- 
 ment in its support! My only hope is in the man I love." 
 
 Brigham had not forgotten his promise to prepare the 
 way for the regulation of Brand's household. Carissa's 
 callers were shrewdly selected, and wisely counseled 
 by him. They bore uniform testimony to her con- 
 cerning their happiness in the state of plurality. 
 
 So certain was it that every new visitor would ply 
 her with testimony and argument, that Carissa dreaded 
 the announcement of a caller. But one day she was 
 pleased to receive the sweet-faced woman who had 
 enlisted her sympathies at the governor's reception. 
 As they talked together her heart was warmed into 
 forgetfulness by the gentle womanly interest and 
 tender sympathy of her visitor's manner. It was not 
 strange that an impulse to confide in her came over 
 Carissa. Her heart was so lonely and troubled. 
 
 "Are you happy here?" she said leaning forward, 
 
 and speaking almost timidly. "Does this religion 
 
 seem real to you?" 
 
 257 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Mrs. Pratt seemed to understand her. There was 
 sympathy in her kindly eyes, but a look of firm- 
 ness, too, for in those days the women had no small 
 part to play in confirming the faith of the wavering, 
 and many of them were noted for their skill and adroit- 
 ness. 
 
 Like a practiced surgeon, this woman knew how to 
 apply the knife with a firm hand. 
 
 "Is it of polygamy you are thinking?" she said, 
 quietly. 
 
 Carissa winced, as she answered. "Yes. I think it's 
 terrible." 
 
 Mrs. Pratt smiled and said, "There are many that 
 have stumbled at it at first. I confess to you, my dear 
 sister, that it was a heavy cross to me. My husband 
 is a good and virtuous man, whom I dearly love. We 
 have four children who are very dear to both of us. 
 But he has seven other living wives, and one who has 
 departed to the better world." 
 
 Carissa was horrified. She could scarcely believe 
 her ears. It seemed incredible to her that a woman 
 of refinement and evident delicacy of feeling could 
 relate, unmoved, such an astounding bit of personal 
 experience. Her visitor smiled quietly at her 
 agitation. 
 
 "You think that it is impossible that I should be 
 contented and happy? I have sisters in New Hamp- 
 shire, who are horrified at such a domestic arrange- 
 ment. They say that it is licentious, abominable, 
 beastly; and have written to me urging me to renounce 
 it. But how can I renounce it, without renouncing 
 the Old and New Testaments? I must count Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, and their families, as licentious, 
 
 258 
 
EXTRACTS FROM CARISSA'S JOURNAL 
 
 wicked, beastly, abominable characters; Moses, 
 Nathan, David, and the prophets as no better. I 
 must look upon the God of Israel as partaker in all 
 these abominations, by holding them in fellowship, 
 and even as a minister of iniquity by giving King 
 Saul's wives into King David's bosom and afterward 
 by taking David's wives from him, and giving them 
 to his neighbor. I must consider Jesus Christ, and 
 Paul, and John, as either living in a dark age, — as full 
 of the darkness and ignorance of barbarism, or else 
 wilfully abominable and wicked, in fellowshiping 
 polygamists, and representing them as fathers of the 
 faithful and rulers in Heaven. Do you not see how 
 firmly established this system is in the Holy Scriptures, 
 no matter how repugnant it may be to our preju- 
 dices?" 
 
 "Stop!" cried Carissa. She had listened as one fas- 
 cinated, but she could listen no longer. "It is all a 
 horrible mistake. There is no God that would com- 
 mand such things." 
 
 For a moment her visitor looked at her indignantly, 
 but as Carissa suddenly dropped her head, weeping 
 passionately, Mrs. Pratt's face softened. Rising she 
 put her arm about her and spoke soothingly. 
 
 "There, there, dear, don't cry. I felt that way at 
 first, but I learned better. Tradition is very strong in 
 you. There's a hard struggle before you, dear. But 
 you make a mistake to condemn us unheard. For 
 your own sake do not yield to intolerance. Life will 
 be horrible to you if you cut yourself away from every- 
 thing around you. You must not abandon yourself to 
 disgust and loathing. Let me be your friend, and I 
 
 will help you." 
 
 259 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "You cannot help me," sobbed Carissa. "It is all 
 so terrible. I never dreamed of such abominations. 
 I have been caught in a net-work of lies and there 
 seems no hope of escape. Oh, what shall I do! What 
 shall I do!" 
 
 The elder woman stood by her side gently stroking 
 the soft hair until the paroxysm of grief had passed, 
 then taking her hands in her own she said compas- 
 sionately : 
 
 "My dear sister, it is the lot of woman to suffer. 
 But don't look on the dark side. I could have made 
 myself miserable if I had set myself against the inevi- 
 table. I'll not argue with you now, dear, but let me 
 caution you." 
 
 The warning of her tone riveted Carissa's attention 
 upon the words that followed. 
 
 "You will have many visitors. You are being 
 talked about freely. Do not, I pray you, express your 
 unbelief. Believe me, dear, I speak for your good. 
 Your husband loves you and is proud of you, but he is 
 loyal to his church and sincere in his belief in its 
 authority. Don't set yourself against that authority, 
 no matter what may come." 
 
 All this was vaguely terrifying to Carissa. It 
 seemed that a net was being woven about her by some 
 hostile influence. 
 
 When her visitor had gone, Carissa buried her face 
 in her hands. Everything was slipping away from 
 her. It was no use to struggle; she abandoned 
 herself to the incoming darkness. 
 
 She was aroused at length by baby hands tugging at 
 her dress, and a baby voice calling to her: "Mamma, 
 mamma." 
 
 260 
 
EXTRACTS FROM CARISSA'S JOURNAL 
 
 She lifted her head, and saw the sweet upturned face 
 pleading for a caress. Her mother's heart responded, 
 and, as she held him in her arms and rocked him to and 
 fro with infinite tenderness, the healing tears came to 
 wash away a little of the great sorrow of her soul. 
 
 261 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE BISHOP'S VISIT 
 
 President Young was not a man to submit quietly to 
 the disobedience and caprice of a woman; and he did 
 not lack pliant agents of either sex, ready and compe- 
 tent to do his will. 
 
 Among those w^ho were the willing instruments of 
 his despotic authority, and who had risen to position 
 in the church because of subservient obedience, was 
 the bishop of the ward in which the Brands resided. 
 
 Since Carissa had begun to attend the ward meet- 
 ings, this man had been the special object of her 
 detestation He seemed to her the embodiment of 
 the atrocious system of Mormonism, in its most offen- 
 sive aspects. 
 
 He had recently taken his fourth wife, who was the 
 niece of his first, and his entire household was crowded 
 into a small two-story adobe house, that presented a 
 cheerless, prison-like aspect, in spite of the dozen or 
 more children that swarmed in the untended garden in 
 front. 
 
 He was, however, a man of considerable shrewdness 
 and force, illiterate, but understanding well the rude 
 people under his charge, and supplementing his native 
 ability by a power of dogmatic assertion that left little 
 room for question. 
 
 To this man Brigham resorted, as soon as he 
 learned that Carissa was still unconvinced of the 
 wisdom and righteousness of the celestial order of 
 
 marriage. 
 
 262 
 
THE BISHOP'S VISIT 
 
 "It may be necessary that I should talk with her 
 myself," he said. "But it is well that she should first 
 know the extent of my authority." 
 
 "I will inform her," said the bishop. "She's a 
 damned handsome woman, and has been very atten- 
 tive of late." 
 
 "Save your swearing to enforce your pulpit utter- 
 ances. It isn't needed here," responded Brigham. 
 "We shall have no trouble with Brand, but this girl 
 that he married in England needs to learn her place. 
 It may be necessary to let her know that we do not 
 recognize her marriage, until she has been sealed by 
 competent authority; and that we possess the power 
 of absolute divorce. A hint that she may be cut off 
 from husband and child, as well as from the church, 
 may teach her reason." 
 
 "It's your high-spirited mare that needs the touch 
 of the whip," commented the bishop. "I'll see that 
 she knows what to expect." 
 
 Brigham undoubtedly knew how insulting would 
 seem the errand of this servant of the church, but he 
 felt that this woman needed a lesson in humility, and 
 to realize the force that backed the mandates of the 
 church. His sense of delicacy was of that subtle 
 kind which could prompt him to say in a public ser- 
 mon: 
 
 "My wives have got to do one of two things: either 
 round up their shoulders to endure the afflictions of 
 this world, and live their religion, or they may leave, 
 for I will not have them about me. I will go into 
 Heaven alone, rather than have scratching and fighting 
 around me. I will set all at liberty." 
 
 The bishop was well pleased with the commission 
 
 263 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 with which he was entrusted. He imagined himself 
 well versed in the best methods of handling women, 
 as well as a fair judge of the points of female beauty, 
 and had felicitated himself that Mrs. Brand had been 
 assigned to his pastoral supervision. He did not antic- 
 ipate much difficulty. Of course his parishioner 
 might feel aggrieved, and would doubtless need con- 
 solation. But the idea of being called upon to 
 console so beautiful a member of his flock was by no 
 means disagreeable to him. He had mistaken her 
 gaze of fascinated horror, while listening to his vitu- 
 perative declamation, for a look of absorbed and 
 appreciative attention. As he pictured the coming 
 interview, he intended to combine dignity with patron- 
 age, and to be firm but gracious. He certainly antici- 
 pated a courteous reception, but as he opened the 
 door, unannounced, and walked in, Carissa's surprise 
 at the intrusion found expression in a very cold and 
 reserved bearing. 
 
 She rose and looked at him in surprise, but she 
 spoke no word of greeting. 
 
 "Pray be seated, Mrs. Brand. You know me as your 
 bishop. I understand that your husband is absent, and 
 thought you might need a little advice," he said, 
 reaching awkwardly for a chair. The chair was for 
 himself, and he placed it as close to her as the table 
 would permit, and dropping heavily into it, leaned 
 forward in an attitude inviting confidence. 
 
 A sudden sense of the ludicrous came to Carissa's 
 relief, as she said: "Did Mr. Brand request you to 
 tender your services?" 
 
 "No, not exactly, but when a brother is absent upon 
 business or on a mission, it devolves upon his bishop, 
 
 264 
 
THE BISHOP'S VISIT 
 
 as the shepherd of the flock, to look after his wives and 
 superintend his household." 
 
 "Ah! A very pretty arrangement indeed!" com- 
 mented Carissa, sarcastically. 
 
 "You have not been in the valley long enough to 
 understand fully, our institutions," he said, rather 
 sternly. 
 
 He had felt the sting of her tone. She responded 
 to the spur, and there was some defiance in her man- 
 ner, as she replied: "I think I am learning to under- 
 stand them very well." 
 
 "You will show greater meekness when you begin to 
 feel their weight." 
 
 His harsh face showed that he had taken offence, 
 and his words seemed to hold some sinister meaning. 
 Carissa was a bit frightened by his manner. 
 
 "What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes challeng- 
 ing him. 
 
 "I mean that the proud and the froward are an 
 abomination unto our God. I find in you a contuma- 
 cious spirit. Unless you humble yourself the hand of 
 the Lord will rest heavily upon you." 
 
 Carissa was silent through fear. The bishop 
 watched her. He saw her effort to control herself. 
 As far as he was capable, he admired her and felt a 
 certain pity for her, but his errand was to teach her 
 her helplessness. He put his big polished fist upon 
 the table. Carissa looked at it as though fascinated. 
 
 "You understand the principles of the patriarchal 
 order of marriage," he began slowly. "You know that 
 it is a divine order. Those who enter it cheerfully 
 find happiness. Those who disobey are under the 
 wrath of God, and their damnation begins in this world. " 
 
 265 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He paused. Carissa made no reply, nor did she 
 change her attitude. 
 
 "Brother Brigham has said: 'If any of you deny 
 the plurality of wives and continue to do so, 1 promise 
 that you will be damned.'' 
 
 Still no reply. 
 
 He began to think that a battle was on with this 
 silent, white-faced woman; and shrewdly calculated 
 how he might break through her reserve. There was 
 doggedness in his tone, as he continued: "The diso- 
 bedience of men to this doctrine has filled the world 
 with licentiousness, harlotry, social abominations and 
 all manner of corruption." 
 
 He leaned forward and smiled as he saw the quiver- 
 ing of her averted eyelids and the trembling of her 
 hand. 
 
 "Every man in the full possession of his natural 
 powers is by nature a polygamist. But the rejection 
 of the divine method of regulating these matters has 
 caused perversion of his instincts, that has resulted in 
 unbridled passion." 
 
 He paused again. His words had at last stung her 
 into life. She was looking at him with a sick look of 
 weariness upon her face. 
 
 "Why do you come to tell me of these things?" she 
 asked, indignantly. 
 
 The bishop felt that he was on the right track. He 
 was rather proud of his diplomacy. 
 
 "Because you have shown yourself to be hardened 
 against the truth. You are believed to have set your- 
 self against the counsel of the church," he said, sternly 
 and firmly. 
 
 "May I ask who is my accuser?" She was desper- 
 
 266 
 
THE BISHOP'S VISIT 
 
 ately gathering together all her powers of resist- 
 ance. 
 
 "You will acquit yourself or become your own 
 accuser by your answer to a simple question," he 
 responded, judicially. 
 
 "What is that?" she demanded. 
 
 "Will you assist Brother Brand in carrying out 
 Brother Brigham's counsel?" 
 
 "I do not know what you mean. What counsel has 
 he given my husband?" she said, steadily. 
 
 "Will you encourage your husband to increase his 
 household according to the command of God?" 
 
 The question came with the force of a blow. Carissa 
 drew her breath sharply. Her inquisitor observed her 
 keenly as he restated his question slowly, emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 "Will you, I say, encourage Brother Brand to take 
 additional wives, according to the Abrahamic cov- 
 enant?" 
 
 "Never!" Her voice rang out silvery clear. She 
 drew herself up proudly. Her face flushed, her eyes 
 flashed. She looked invincible just then. 
 
 The bishop leaned back in his chair and fixed his 
 eyes admiringly upon her. This was a woman worth 
 winning, he thought. 
 
 "You are a very beautiful woman, Mrs. Brand," he 
 said, coolly. His gaze seemed to be taking an inven- 
 tory of her charms. His swollen underlip wore its 
 most disagreeable expression. "But" (he broke the 
 sentence by way of emphasis), "what are you going to 
 do about it?" 
 
 The question conveyed the impression of finality. 
 Coupled with the insult of his undisguised admiration, 
 
 267 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 it carried more terror to Carissa's quivering heart than 
 any words of threatening could have done. 
 
 The intolerable system that hemmed her in seemed 
 personified in the figure before her, which somehow 
 began to loom in exaggerated proportions with its 
 deep eyes, hideously gloating mouth, and huge flabby 
 frame, so that it filled the room, encroached upon her 
 liberty, and shut out the breath from her nostrils. 
 
 She would have fainted, but she dared not lose con- 
 sciousness. What aroused her was his rising from his 
 chair and reaching out his hand as though to support 
 her. She sprang back against the wall, with every 
 nerve quivering painfully. 
 
 "It is not so bad as that, believe me. Not bad at 
 all when you get used to it. Of course at first it 
 seems hard, but really you'll find it not so bad," he 
 said in most amiable tones. 
 
 "Don't touch me. I loathe you. Leave this house!" 
 cried Carissa, scarcely knowing what words she spoke. 
 
 He laid his hand softly upon the table. The color 
 of his lip changed from red to purple, the expression 
 of his eyes altered, but that was all. His tone was as 
 soft as oil as he said: "I suppose you know, my dear 
 sister, that those who disobey will be cut off? I can- 
 not leave you to work your own ruin. Your eternal 
 salvation, as well as your earthly happiness, is dear to 
 me. You cannot hinder the will of the Lord, but you 
 can ruin yourself. Your husband is a loyal son of the 
 church; he has heard the warning of the church, 'not 
 to love wives and children more than me.' He cannot 
 save you; he would not reach his hand to you, if you 
 persist in your rebellion. There is only one course, 
 and that is submission." 
 
 268 
 
THE BISHOP'S VISIT 
 
 "And if I do not submit— what?" said Carissa. Her 
 heart seemed to stand still waiting for an answer. 
 
 "You will submit, my dear sister, I am persuaded. 
 If you should not, however, you will be brought before 
 the President, divorced from your husband, separated 
 from your child, and cast out into the wilderness," he 
 said, calmly, and with a matter-of-fact manner that 
 Torquemada himself might have envied. 
 
 He rose with an air of considerable dignity. He 
 felt that he had accomplished his mission. "Good 
 day. Sister Brand, and the Lord be with you," he said 
 in apostolic tones, as he took his departure. 
 
 It was several days later that news of so startling a 
 nature was borne to Carissa that it succeeded in arous- 
 ing her from the sick lethargy that had come upon her. 
 
 Bowen and his wife and children had started for 
 California. They had left the city silently and at 
 night, and had driven hurriedly by way of the southern 
 settlements to strike the California trail. Nothing 
 further had been heard of them, till now the intelli- 
 gence was brought that they had been murdered by 
 Indians and that their bodies, frightfully mangled, had 
 been recovered, identified and brought back to the city 
 for burial. 
 
 269 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 Before Brand's return from Parowan, he had an 
 interview with President Young which filled him with 
 perplexity. The latter, in company with several lead- 
 ers of the church, made a trip through the southern 
 settlements to inspect improvements, encourage the 
 settlers, confirm them in their faith, and to advise 
 them concerning their relations with the Indians. 
 
 Brand met the party at Cedar City, not far from the 
 iron works, and made a report that was received with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "You have done well," said Brigham. "We shall 
 have a good report to publish to the world. We have 
 the material for the building of a self-sustaining 
 empire. All that is required is development, and 
 then we may snap our fingers at our enemies. You 
 have been wise in your dealing with the Indians. I 
 found Chief Walker near Nephi. He was sulky at first, 
 said he had lost his heart and could not talk, but I 
 succeeded in waking up the old tiger and bringing him 
 to terms. I have told all the brethren to build strong 
 walls around their towns and dwelling houses, walls 
 strong enough to keep the devil out." 
 
 "I shall be ready to return by the last of June," said 
 Brand. 
 
 "That reminds me," Brigham responded, "there is 
 a lot of talk down here about you and that girl you 
 
 270 
 
THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 brought with you. You had better be careful. You'll 
 not find everything clear sailing with your wife. Your 
 damned foolishness has confirmed her in her natural 
 obstinacy. If you don't take care she'll raise the 
 devil yet." Brigham wore an air of considerable con- 
 cern as he added: "I hope you have not compromised 
 yourself with the girl?" 
 
 Brand looked at him in amazement. He scarcely 
 knew what to answer. He recalled Brigham' s previ- 
 ous advice, which certainly spelled compromise. 
 
 "I have told her that I shall marry her, and she 
 expects it." 
 
 "Oh, if that's all, it will be all right. You can plead 
 your inability to keep your promise, and we will find 
 someone else for her. I may take her myself. Of 
 course I knew that you would be careful. You know 
 the penalty for compromising yourself with a girl that 
 you can't marry? If you go too far it's death," said 
 Brigham, with the air of a man who knew he could 
 make good his words. 
 
 "But what's to hinder my marrying her?" asked 
 Brand aghast. 
 
 "Well, you will have to get the consent of your wife, 
 or get a divorce," declared Brigham bluntly. "I 
 thought your wife would harken to reason, and prove 
 submissive; but she has a devil. It is of your own 
 fostering, too, and unless you can cast it out, you must 
 cut her off from your own life, or choose your portion 
 in Hell with her." With a wave of his hand, Brigham 
 dismissed him. And Brand, with a sense of having 
 been tricked, and full of impotent fury, was left to 
 chew the cud of bitter reflection. 
 
 When he returned to Parowan he found that Morey, 
 
 271 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 obeying orders, had taken Maggie and accompanied 
 the presidential party to Salt Lake City. 
 
 According to the chronicle of the Saints, the winter 
 of 1854 and 1855 was a time when "the devil was in the 
 valley." 
 
 A company of United States troopers, under the 
 command of Colonel Steptoe, had arrived on the last 
 day of August. As there had been many points of 
 disagreement between the governor of the territory 
 and the federal officers, this military force was at first 
 regarded as a menace. The Mormon question was 
 being debated in Congress. The desirability of divid- 
 ing Utah territory into four parts, and apportioning 
 them to Nebraska, Kansas, California, and Oregon, 
 was being seriously discussed. It was thought by the 
 Mormons that the authorities at Washington were 
 bent upon their extermination. President Pierce had 
 expressed his determination not to reappoint Brigham 
 Young as governor of the territory. Naturally a 
 spirit of hostility was engendered. 
 
 The United States flag held little claim for reverence 
 upon the mass of raw emigrants, who had come from 
 England and Wales and every country of Europe, and 
 who constituted the bulk of this hetrogeneous popula- 
 tion. The sight of officers and troopers was not pleas- 
 ing to the eyes of these foreigners, who had been 
 taught that the only authority they need obey was that 
 of Brigham Young, who was to them supreme head of 
 . both state and church. 
 
 With the troops came not only steel and lead, but 
 
 gold, and lax morals, and heretical opinions. And 
 
 these things were a^sore trial, yea, an abomination, to 
 
 the faithful. 
 
 .272 
 
THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 It did not require much from the outside to set in a 
 ferment such a community. Thousands of undisci- 
 plined converts, many of them lured by the desire 
 to better themselves in their temporal affairs, and 
 restless for the time when endurance of long hard- 
 ship and privation would be substantially rewarded, 
 had but recently come into the city. These found it 
 hard to adjust themselves to the demands of commu- 
 nity life. They differed from one another in language, 
 customs, laws, nationality and tastes. They were 
 imbued with diverse traditions and prejudices. They 
 had been bred in different and adverse faiths. Their 
 moral standards were as numerous as their tongues. 
 It required a strong hand to hold them, and a strong 
 will to guide them. A mere preacher of righteousness 
 would have utterly failed. But Brigham with his 
 mailed fist had proved himself equal to the task. He 
 had forced them to recognize his superiority, and with 
 unyielding will he had bent them to his purpose. And 
 looked at closely, this was his best credential. 
 
 But this new element, alien and independent, con- 
 sisting of officers and soldiers of the regular army, was 
 beyond his control. He could not subject them to 
 church discipline. He could not control their liberty 
 of action. They introduced examples of laxity, they 
 were the representatives of a power that was greater 
 than his own. He would have forbidden them the 
 city, had it been possible; but he was too prudent to 
 provoke a conflict that must prove hopeless, unless he 
 should be driven to it. It was a time of great perplex- 
 ity. Brigham very sagaciously decided to solve the 
 problem by a show of courtesy. Instructions were 
 given that fair prices should be charged for feed for 
 
 273 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 the horses, and provisions and accommodations for 
 the men. The hotels were soon crowded, and many 
 homes were opened to furnish lodgings for the officers, 
 with the result that people and soldiers were very- 
 soon on friendly terms. 
 
 Colonel Steptoe was a man of honor and discretion, 
 and by many kindly acts convinced the people of his 
 desire to promote peace and a spirit of conciliation. 
 It was not long until parties and dances were arranged 
 for the entertainment of the visitors. At one of the 
 parties, not long after their arrival, two young officers 
 were standing a little apart chatting. 
 
 "What's come over you to-night, Gil? You seem 
 out of sorts," remarked Captain Ingalls. 
 
 "Oh, go and join the ladies, if you like. I'm in no 
 hurry," replied Lieutenant Osborne. 
 
 "No hurry! Is your appetite sated already? I'm 
 afraid these Mormon beauties don't agree with you." 
 
 "I tell you I'm going to wait. See here, Ingalls; I 
 have some friends among these people. I want to see 
 them when they come in." 
 
 "Oh, that's it. Well, I'm in no hurry either. Queer 
 affairs these balls as they call 'em. Open with prayer 
 and close with the benediction. I suppose that long- 
 visaged apostle over there is anxious to begin. See 
 him twitch his beard and glance at the band stand." 
 
 "Say w^hat you will, Ingalls, these people have 
 received us better than we expected," said Osborne. 
 
 "Oh yes, but they're making something out of it, 
 too. Their mighty potentate, Brigham, has taught 
 them a thing or two. What surprises me is, that he's 
 so liberal as to parade the beauties of his harem before 
 our hungry eyes. If this sort of thing continues, 
 
 274 
 
THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 a winter's sojourn among the Saints won't be so 
 bad." 
 
 "It certainly beats being cooped up all winter at 
 Fort Laramie, no matter what happens." 
 
 "More exhilarating, but not so safe, eh? You may 
 wish yourself back, after we've caused a flutter in a few 
 of these Mormon dove-cotes. It's coming sure as 
 fate. Bright glances from pretty eyes tell the same 
 story everywhere." 
 
 "There's another story written in the heavy frowns 
 of male faces. You'd better read that, I'm thinking," 
 laughed Osborne. 
 
 "I suppose it isn't very healthy to trifle with a 
 woman's affections in these regions. But, by Jove, 
 the game is well worth the candle," quoth Ingalls 
 merrily. 
 
 "They're a law unto themselves, are these fellows, 
 and would think nothing of plugging a United States 
 officer with an ounce of lead." 
 
 "You're a very persuasive preacher of righteousness 
 for an Indian fighter. My friend, I think you'd be 
 safer back in garrison," remarked Ingalls, with a 
 grimace. Then added, "Well, ta-ta. I must be off. 
 It's time for target practice." 
 
 Osborne's thoughts had often reverted to the woman 
 he had met at Fort Laramie. He had not seen her 
 since his arrival in the city, but hoped that she might 
 be present at this general gathering. 
 
 Just now he was wondering if she would speak so 
 proudly of these people, now that she knew them inti- 
 mately. He recalled the indignant reserve with which 
 she had met his insinuations against her adopted 
 people. Her loyal vindication of their creed and con- 
 
 275 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 duct. Her ready forgiveness to meet his own quick 
 repentance. "I wonder how she has met the reality?" 
 he said to himself. 
 
 He almost shuddered as he remembered what he had 
 seen during his brief stay in the city — polygamy 
 everywhere paraded, authoritatively preached, openly 
 practiced — while she was so sure of its criminality, 
 and so confident in her denial of its existence! 
 
 What rot it was! What a disgusting system for any 
 pure-minded woman. He had heard an apostle speak 
 of his wives as his herd of heifers. He had heard jests 
 from the Elders that would have made even a hardened 
 soldier blush. 
 
 Presently Osborne gave a great start, for there close 
 to him stood Carissa. He was impressed with the 
 marvel, and yet the coldness, of her beauty. Was this 
 the woman who had spoken kindly to him? whom he 
 had been pitying? whose confidence he had thought of 
 winning? 
 
 He had never seen her before — like that. He noted 
 the air of high breeding, the perfect ease of manner, 
 W4th a touch of weariness, though tinctured with the 
 acid of heart bitterness. She moved as though she 
 was engaged in the performance of a duty that gave 
 her no pleasure, but in which she would not fail. 
 There was no warmth of sympathy in her eyes. Yet 
 sympathy was the expression which had lingered in 
 his memory. Instead, there was a haunting look of 
 cold troubled reserve. There was no generous, sensi- 
 tive mobility of the lips; practiced reserve had made 
 their firmness appear habitual. He checked his eager 
 gaze of criticism. Perhaps he was misjudging her. 
 The occasion, the environment, the fact that this was 
 
 276 
 
THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 a public function, the reserve caused by lack of har- 
 mony with her associations — all these things may have 
 combined to make the difference in her appearance. 
 
 The next moment he knew that she saw him, for a 
 momentary flush of pleasure swept like a wave over 
 her face. She was replying to the compliments of 
 Colonel Steptoe, when their glances met and held for 
 one wavering hesitating instant. In that glance he 
 seemed to read shame, fear, and a beggar's plea for 
 pity. All that, he read in the eyes of this beautiful 
 proud young creature! It smote him like the deep 
 thrust of a spear. 
 
 Osborne waited no longer. He crossed the floor 
 toward them. Brand saw him coming, and a slight 
 frown gathered over his eyes. Nevertheless he gave 
 him the semblance of a cordial greeting, and expressed 
 surprise to find him attached to the colonel's staff. 
 
 "Oh, I found him sick of the Platte valley, and 
 ready to resign his commission," laughed the 
 colonel. '*I took pity on him, and arranged that he 
 should go to California with me." 
 
 Carissa gave him a pleasant greeting. By con- 
 scious effort she had recovered the reserve that 
 wounded pride was making habitual, but which had 
 been broken for the moment by her glad surprise. 
 
 "I am very glad to meet you again, Mr. Osborne," 
 she said as she gave him her hand. Somehow her 
 voice made him feel like a baby. 
 
 "That is good of you. I was afraid you might 
 have quite forgotten me," he said. 
 
 "My troops have filled your city well nigh full, Mr. 
 Brand. We have crowded them into warehouses, pub- 
 lic houses, and private residences, until I doubt if 
 
 277 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 there's a cot to spare in the valley," observed the 
 colonel, not very wisely. 
 
 "So it would seem; and there's much more drinking 
 and deviltry among them than we are used to, or than 
 we care for, sir," said Brand, in a distinctly offensive 
 tone. 
 
 Carissa looked at him in surprise. 
 
 "Oh, every man to his own vice, sir," the colonel 
 responded, sharply. "Drinking and gaming are unfor- 
 tunately the vices of soldiers." 
 
 "And not only that, but seduction and licentiousness. 
 Tell your soldiers to have a care, for we will not allow 
 those things here," retorted Brand, fiercely. His face 
 was flushed and his eyes heated. A spirit of combat- 
 iveness seemed to possess him. 
 
 Colonel Steptoe turned to IMrs. Brand who, supremely 
 indifferent now to this incipient scene, was looking 
 out across the ball-room. 
 
 "I have been very favorably impressed," he said, 
 "with the courtesy of the people, and the hospitality 
 of your President, madam. Governor Young seems to 
 hold securely the obedience and affection of his 
 people." 
 
 "Quite so. He is a model shepherd, and the sheep 
 know his voice." answered Carissa. 
 
 Her tone was absolutely without modulation, as she 
 uttered this pious sentence. But Osborne was thrilled 
 with what he thought was a note of suppressed 
 tragedy. 
 
 The music, which had been interrupted, began 
 again. Colonel Steptoe was about to take his leave, 
 when Brand stepped forward, and said, "There is one 
 thing more. I understand that it is the purpose of 
 
 278 
 
THE DEVIL IN THE VALLEY 
 
 your government to remove President Young from the 
 governorship. I want you to know that no appointee 
 of the President of the United States will have a par- 
 ticle of authority or power in this territory, without 
 Brigham Young's consent." 
 
 The colonel drew himself up squarely, and his face 
 flushed. For a moment things looked red, but he had 
 his temper well in hand, and when he answered it was 
 with beautiful calmness. Said he, "Mr. Brand, you 
 appear to be strangely excited, but I do not hesitate 
 to say to you, that I believe Governor Young is better 
 fitted for the position he holds, than any other man 
 that could be selected. I have so reported to Presi- 
 dent Pierce." He paused a moment, and then added, 
 with a smile of grave courtesy, "Do you not think, 
 sir, that if we were less strangers we should be better 
 friends?" 
 
 "That is as it maybe, sir. I certainly desire that 
 your sojourn in the valley should result in no harm. 
 But what I see, even in this ball-room, does not give 
 me much hope," replied Brand, harshly. 
 
 With his hand he indicated where Captain Ingalls 
 and two or three fellow officers were chatting gaily 
 and familiarly with a group of girls. 
 
 Colonel Steptoe surveyed the group coolly. 
 "I see nothing wrong." He turned to Brand inquir- 
 ingly. "They are simply establishing those relations 
 that society everj^vhere sanctions, and that are per- 
 fectly natural between young people." 
 
 "No social relations are possible, sir, between our 
 women and girls who have taken their endowments, 
 and the drunken, gambling, blasphemous soldiery of 
 a government that would rob us of our liberties. Fur- 
 
 279 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 ther, if a woman that has her endowments should enter 
 into what you would call an honorable marriage with 
 a Gentile, she would be guilty of adultery." His tone 
 was as fierce as his words were vulgar. 
 
 The colonel was disgusted, and was not at all afraid 
 to show it. "Good God! Sir, I am not used to hearing 
 language like that used before ladies. I wish you good 
 evening." With this parting shot. Colonel Steptoe 
 made his bow and retired. 
 
 Osborne was thoroughly amazed. He thought that 
 Brand must have been drinking. He seemed a totally 
 different kind of man from what he was on the plains. 
 He looked at Carissa. But Carissa showed no sign of 
 surprise. The cruel calmness of her features may have 
 suggested an added pain, a heightened disdain, but 
 that was all. She must have been accustomed to such 
 outbreaks. What had happened during the past year 
 to work such changes? He felt it impossible to make 
 conversation, and was stammering vague excuses 
 before slipping away, when Carissa said to him openly: 
 
 "You must come and see us." She extended her 
 hand. "Our house will be easy to find, and we shall 
 be at home any time." 
 
 "Thank you," said Osborne. "I — I must come." 
 
 She looked at him, but it was of no use, he could not 
 meet her eyes. 
 
 280 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 MATERIALISM 
 
 When Osborne returned to the lodging which he 
 shared with two other officers, he found Lieutenant 
 Maury already there, ensconced in a big arm chair, 
 his feet on the table and a pipe in his mouth, reading. 
 
 •'I tell you this is great stuff," he exclaimed as 
 Osborne entered. 
 
 "What have you there?" asked Osborne, with no 
 particular interest, throwing himself down on the 
 lounge. 
 
 Maury turned the book over and examined the title 
 page. 
 
 "It's the sixth volume of the 'Millennial Star.' This 
 article that I've been reading contains in a nut-shell 
 the entire philosophy of Mormondom. It isn't badly 
 put together, though it sounds rather startling." 
 
 "Well, let's hear it," said Osborne, listlessly. 
 
 "All right. Here goes. 'God the Father Is material 
 — Jesus Christ is material — angels are material — spirits 
 are material — men are material. The universe is mate- 
 rial. Space is full of materiality. Nothing exists 
 which is not material.' " 
 
 Maury peered over at Osborne, and laughed, saying, 
 "What do ye think of that now? Good, ain't it? Solid 
 mud from top to bottom. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 He read on: "Immateriality is but another name 
 
 for nonentity. It is the negative of all things and 
 
 beings, of all existence. 
 
 281 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "There is not one particle of proof to be advanced to 
 establish its existence. It has no way to manifest 
 itself to any intelligence in Heaven or on earth. 
 Neither God, angels, nor men could possibly conceive 
 of such a substance, being or thing. It cannot be 
 seen, felt, heard, tasted or smelled, even by the 
 strongest organs or the most acute sensibilities. It is 
 neither liquid nor solid, soft nor hard. It can neither 
 extend nor contract. In short, it can exert no influ- 
 ence whatever — it can neither act nor be acted upon; 
 and even if it does exist, it is of no possible use. It 
 possesses no one desirable property, faculty or use; 
 yet strange to say 'immateriality' is the modern Chris- 
 tian's God— his anticipated Heaven — his immortal self 
 —his all." 
 
 Osborne raised himself on his elbow and said: "See 
 here, Maury, are you making that up as you go along?" 
 
 "Thanks. I appreciate the compliment, but I assure 
 you I am not equal to it. Just you listen to this, and 
 believe, or you will surely be damned," quoth Maury. 
 He read on: "What is God? He is a material organ- 
 ized intelligence, possessing both body and parts. He 
 is in the form of a man, and is in fact, of the same spe- 
 cies, and is a model or standard of perfection, to which 
 man is destined to attain; he being the great father 
 and head of the whole family. He can go, come, con- 
 verse, reason, eat, drink, love, hate, rejoice, possess, 
 and enjoy. He can also traverse space, with all the 
 ease and intelligence necessary for moving from planet 
 to planet and from system to system. This Being 
 cannot occupy two distinct places at once, therefore 
 he cannot be everywhere present. For evidence and 
 illustration of this God, and his personal organization, 
 
 282 
 
MATERIALISM 
 
 powers and attributes, we refer to the Scriptures of the 
 Old and New Testaments, which speak abundantly of 
 his body, parts, passions, powers, and of his convers- 
 ing, walking, eating, drinking, etc.; for instance, his 
 taking dinner with Abraham. 
 
 "What are angels? They are intelligences of the 
 human species. Many of them are the offspring of 
 Adam and Eve. That is, they are men who have, like 
 Enoch or Elijah, been translated, or like Jesus Christ, 
 been raised from the dead; consequently they possess 
 a natural body of flesh and bones; can eat, drink, walk, 
 converse, reason, love, fight, wrestle, sing, or play on 
 musical instruments. They can go or come on foreign 
 missions, in heaven, earth or hell; they can traverse 
 space, and visit the different worlds with all the ease 
 and alacrity with which God and Christ do the same, 
 being possessed of similar organizations, powers and 
 attributes in a degree. 
 
 "What are spirits? They are material organizations, 
 intelligences, possessing body and parts in the like- 
 ness of the temporal body, but not composed of flesh 
 and bones, but of some substance less tangible. In 
 short they are men in embryo; intelligences waiting to 
 come into the natural world, and take upon them flesh 
 and bones, that through birth, death and the resurrec- 
 tion, they may also be perfected in the material organ- 
 ization. Such was Jesus Christ, and such were we 
 before we came into this world, and such we will be 
 again, in the intervening space between death and 
 resurrection. 
 
 "What are men? They are the offspring of God the 
 father, and brothers of Jesus Christ. They were once 
 intelligent spirits in the presence of God, and were 
 
 283 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 with him before the earth was formed. They are now 
 in disguise, as it were, in order to pass through the 
 several changes, and the experience necessary to con- 
 stitute them perfect beings. 
 
 "What are ail these beings, taken together or summed 
 up under one head? They are one great family, all of 
 the same species, all related to each other, all bound 
 together by kindred ties, interests, sympathies and 
 affections. In short, they are all gods; or, rather, 
 men are the offspring or children of the gods, and 
 destined to adv^ance by degrees, and to make their 
 way by a progressive series of changes, till they 
 become like their father in heaven, and like Jesus 
 Christ — their elder brother. 
 
 "Thus perfected, the whole family will possess the 
 material universe, that is, the earth and all other 
 planets and worlds, as 'an inheritance incorruptible, 
 undefiled and that fadeth not away.' They will also 
 continue to organize, people, redeem and perfect other 
 systems which are now in the womb of chaos, and 
 thus go on increasing their several dominions, till the 
 weakest child of God which now exists upon the earth 
 will possess more dominion, more property, more sub- 
 jects, and more power and glory than is possessed by 
 Jesus Christ, or by his father, while at the same time 
 Jesus Christ and his father will have their dominion, 
 kingdoms and subjects increased in proportion. 
 
 "Such are the wealth, the dignity, the nobility, the 
 titles and honors to which we 'Mormons' aspire." 
 
 "Well, what do you think of the chances? Shall 
 we take a ticket?" said Maury, as he tossed the book 
 upon the table and reached for a match. 
 
 "I think not. I am not lucky in lotteries. Some 
 
 284 
 
MATERIALISM 
 
 other chap would draw the prize of princedom, and I 
 should remain an everlasting pauper," remarked 
 Osborne. 
 
 Said Maury, "Did it ever occur to you, old man, 
 that the revelation concerning polygamy is entirely 
 consistent with all this?" 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 "It's plain enough. The modern patriarch, who is 
 able to number his wives by the score, has just that 
 much the start over his inferior monogamist brother in 
 the race they are running for dominion, power, thrones, 
 subjects and other prerogatives of the godhead. It is 
 not a matter of lust, you see. It is simply the passion 
 for power." 
 
 "Oh, dash it all, Maury. I've had enough of this 
 for one time," cried Osborne. 
 
 "I heard of a family, yesterday, consisting of two 
 men and four women; the men's first wives being 
 sisters, and their second wives each a sister of the 
 other man, all living in one house. Figure out for me 
 the relationship of their children will you?" said 
 Maury, laughing. 
 
 "I wonder how the dickens the women endure it!" 
 exclaimed Osborne, thinking of Carissa. 
 
 "Endure it!" replied Maury, with a sneer. "Why, 
 they are as strong advocates of the system as the men. 
 It just suits some of them." 
 
 "Probably. But not all, that I'll swear. My friend, 
 Mrs. Brand — if it isn't hell to her, I'm a nigger," 
 answered Osborne vehemently. 
 
 "Yes. I've met her once. Gad, it seemed to me 
 that the fellow who wasn't satisfied with her alone, 
 ought to be condemned to husband a thousand old 
 
 285 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 hags," remarked Maury. He added: "Don't you 
 think we'd better warn Ingalls? He's carrying things 
 with rather a high hand, and is liable to get into 
 trouble over these girls. I'd hate to see him trapped 
 into an Indian ambush." 
 
 "Oh, I think Ingalls can take care of himself. But 
 as you like," replied Osborne, wishing his companion 
 good-night. 
 
 286 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE HOPE OF ESCAPE 
 
 On the following morning Osborne called upon 
 Carissa. The house was like many others in the 
 vicinity, built of adobe with a frame lean-to at the 
 back. There was evidence of care and taste in the 
 lawn and flower garden, and quick-growing vines that 
 covered the veranda and sheltered the windows. A 
 bright-faced little fellow, playing in a heap of sand 
 and pebbles near the door, observed his approach, and 
 called merrily to him. Osborne thought he could 
 detect the mother's features in the face of the boy. 
 He was chatting with the little customer when Carissa 
 appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "Ah," she said as they shook hands. "I was afraid 
 you might not come." 
 
 "But you told me I may? If you had told me I 
 may not, I should have come all the same," he said 
 laughing. 
 
 The room they entered was prettily furnished. 
 Carissa seemed ill at ease, almost nervous. They had 
 been talking a little while when she said: "Mr. Brand 
 has forbidden me receiving anyone who is not of his 
 faith. But I must talk with you. Last night it 
 seemed as though you brought back a bit of my old 
 life. How long ago it seems!" 
 
 Osborne was touched. He knew her trouble. She 
 had suffered bitter disillusion. He remembered how 
 keenly she had anticipated her life with the Saints. 
 
 287 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I felt that you were unhappy last night," he said. 
 "I knew that you must be, when once you learned the 
 real condition of things." 
 
 "Yes, it was all true. Those terrible charges were 
 not false charges after all. I am learning to take 
 refuge against weakness in bitterness. There is no 
 other way. You cannot know how hopeless is resist- 
 ance," she said, pitifully. 
 
 "What is it? Tell me for God's sake!" cried 
 Osborne. 
 
 "I cannot tell you all, but it has come to this: I have 
 consented that my husband should marry another wife. 
 I was compelled to consent, or be torn from my child 
 and become an outcast. But as the time draws near, I 
 find that I cannot go through with it, it will kill me. 
 If it were only for myself, I would rather die. But 
 how can I let my boy grow up in the midst of all this 
 wickedness?" murmured Carissa, her voice shaking. 
 
 "Is your husband capable of such brutality?" 
 exclaimed Osborne, horrified. 
 
 "It is more than two months ago since he told me 
 that God had directed him to take another wife, and 
 that he must obey. At first I was speechless. I could 
 not believe his words. When I reminded him of his 
 promise — for he did promise me — he declared that to 
 keep it would imperil m.y soul and his. He became 
 angry and left me. He did not return to me that 
 night. I thought of flight, but there was no way; I 
 thought of death for my boy and myself, but God 
 stayed my hand. I tried to pray, but was like a child 
 lost in the dark. When he returned he asked me if I 
 had decided to submit. I besought him by his better 
 self to be true to his promise, and reminded him of the 
 
 288 
 
THE HOPE OF ESCAPE 
 
 happy past before these evil days had come. I 
 thought he was softened, but he was not, and when at 
 last I realized it, my heart hardened against him. I 
 accused him of having deceived me from the begin- 
 ning. Again he was angry, and when I besought him 
 to send me away with my boy and then to do as he 
 liked, he declared that if I went I must go alone and 
 on my own resources. That night they took my 
 boy from me and kept him until I promised to sub- 
 mit." 
 
 As she paused as if from exhaustion, dry-eyed and 
 with flushed cheeks, Osborne arose and walked across 
 the floor and back. 
 
 "This is simply damnable! Is there nothing that 
 can be done?" he said fiercely. 
 
 "When I heard that the soldiers were here, I had a 
 wild dream of throwing myself on them for protec- 
 tion. But that is past. I feel that life holds nothing 
 for me. If I should die I want you, if possible, to 
 take my boy away from this awful place. Will you, 
 my friend?" The tears were streaming down her 
 face. 
 
 "See here, Mrs. Brand, so help me God, we'll get 
 you both away! Don't shake your head. We'll do it. 
 This vile outrage shall stop," said Osborne grimly. 
 
 A new look came into her eyes, kindled by his brave 
 words; but it was followed by one of infinite sadness. 
 
 "My friend, you don't know. That is hopeless," 
 she said mournfully. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Brand, will you consent if we can 
 arrange it? You owe it to your boy as well as to your- 
 self to make your escape from this living hell," said 
 Osborne. 
 
 289 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 In the light of her story Osborne could not under- 
 stand her slightest hesitation. Did she still love her 
 husband? Impulsively he leaned forward, and touch- 
 ing her hand, said: "Mrs. Brand, if he persists in his 
 purpose to take another wife, shall you continue to live 
 with him?" 
 
 "No, I could not," she said simply. 
 
 "In that event will you permit me to act for you? 
 Can you trust me?" 
 
 "Yes, I think I can trust you." 
 
 "Then if this thing that you fear proves inevitable, 
 will you trust yourself to my guidance for the sake of 
 your boy?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, if it really comes to the worst I will, for 
 the sake of my boy," and she bowed her head in her 
 hands and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 Osborne's heart ached to comfort her, but what 
 could he say? He felt like swearing hard, but that 
 would not help matters. 
 
 Presently the paroxysm passed, and Carissa raised 
 her head. 
 
 Osborne rose to his feet. "I am going to Rush 
 Valley to-night with some horses. When I return I 
 will see you. Good-bye." He took her hand and 
 said, "God help you. Keep a stout heart. You will 
 need it." 
 
 Osborne went directly to Colonel Steptoe and asked 
 for an interview. He told his story graphically and 
 fully. The colonel listened with interest, but at the 
 mention of the plan for interference, shook his head 
 and said: 
 
 "My dear boy, do you want to plunge us all into 
 difficulties? I tell you it can't be done. We should 
 
 290 i 
 
THE HOPE OF ESCAPE 
 
 be hopelessly embroiled with the authorities, and you 
 would be caught and shot before you reached the 
 southern settlements." 
 
 "Will you discharge me from the command and let 
 me shift for myself?" asked Osborne, who presumed 
 somewhat on his acknowledged favoritism with the 
 colonel. 
 
 "I will have you locked up in the guard-house for 
 insubordination, if you do not drop this business 
 immediately!" 
 
 Osborne flushed angrily. 
 
 "Tut, tut. boy, don't be hasty. We shall have to 
 stay here all winter. When we leave in the spring, 
 you can come back for any baggage that may be for- 
 gotten, and I will help you to carry it away. Now 
 clear out of here and cultivate your patience," quoth 
 the colonel, whose heart was in the right place. 
 
 When Osborne returned from Rush Valley, Lieuten- 
 ant Maury met him in front of the Union Hotel. 
 
 "Well, old man," he said, "glad to see you back 
 again. Have you any letters that you want to send 
 off? There's a party here from the states on their 
 way to California." 
 
 "Where are they, and when do they start?" inquired 
 Osborne. 
 
 "They are camped at the southern corral, and will 
 be here for a day or two." 
 
 The thought of arranging for Caris&a to be smuggled 
 away in one of the wagons struck his mind. 
 
 "As soon as I've made my report to the colonel, I 
 have a call to make, even if it is late," remarked 
 Osborne. 
 
 "W^here are you going? to your friends, the Brands? 
 
 291 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 I suppose you know he has doubled his wives while 
 you were gone?" 
 
 "What's that?" demanded Osborne, sharply. 
 
 "Well, he took another wife, that's all, the day after 
 you left. It's deuced rough on that sweet little 
 woman." 
 
 Osborne staggered as if he had been shot. 
 
 "The damned scoundrel!" he cried. 
 
 Maury's hand shot out, and as he gripped Osborne's 
 he said, solemnly, "Amen to that! He is a damned 
 scoundrel." 
 
 392 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 While talking with Colonel Steptoe at the reception 
 and ball given in honor of the soldiers, Brand had been 
 intensely annoyed by observing that Maggie had been 
 a center of attraction for many of the soldiers. He 
 had scarcely seen her since his return from Parowan. 
 During this time she had been living in one of Presi- 
 dent Young's houses with her father, who was 
 employed as an assistant at the tithing-house. 
 
 On the following morning he went to see her, and 
 his resentment was very evident from his constrained 
 manner of greeting. 
 
 She was baking a large batch of ginger cookies, and 
 her face was flushed with the heat. She met him at 
 the door and stood there, an attractive picture of good 
 nature and high spirits, laughing gaily as she fanned 
 herself with a large straw hat. 
 
 "You can't come in, Brother Brand, unless it's on 
 business. And then you had better be careful, the 
 place is all cluttered up, flour and dough everywhere." 
 
 "It /.J on business," he responded a little shortly. 
 "I want to talk to you a few minutes." 
 
 "All right, perhaps I can find a place." She 
 brushed a chair with her apron, set it down by the 
 door, and then turned to the stove. 
 
 He watched her while she took a long iron tray from 
 the oven and put another in its place. 
 
 293 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I have to watch them or they'll burn," she 
 explained. 
 
 Brand continued to look on while she emptied the 
 fragrant, smoking tray upon a large, heaped-up 
 earthen platter and neatly covered the whole with a 
 bit of snow-white linen. 
 
 His resentment was already being lost in his pleas- 
 ure at watching her brisk and graceful movements. 
 
 "That's a pretty large pile for a small family," he 
 said, "Whom are they for?" 
 
 "Taste it," she said, extracting one from the pile 
 and offering it to him. The roguish look in her eyes 
 became her well. Brand took the offered cake, but 
 resisted the temptation to seize the plump, flour-be- 
 sprinkled fingers as well. 
 
 "I'm baking them for the army officers I met last 
 night, if you want to know," she said. 
 
 The change that came over him was instantaneous. 
 His face darkened, he flung the cake through the open 
 doorway and rose wrathfuUy. 
 
 "What have you to do with them?" he demanded. 
 
 She looked at him in utter surprise and bewilder- 
 ment. 
 
 "I saw you last night," he continued sternly. "You 
 encouraged their attentions and their flattery. Is that 
 the way a true daughter of the church should behave?" 
 
 "What was the harm?" she asked in momentary 
 resentment at his injustice. "Brother Brigham told 
 us to amuse them." 
 
 "You put a lot of liking into your obedience," said 
 Brand roughly, but with the true spirit of a Puritan. 
 
 "It meant nothing," pleaded Maggie. "I couldn't 
 help but enjoy myself, but it was all in fun." 
 
 294 
 
THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 "And I suppose it is to carry out the fun that you 
 are doing all this baking to-day." Brand pointed 
 accusingly at the table. 
 
 "Is that wrong?" asked Maggie. "They told such 
 terrible stories about army rations and hardtack that I 
 thought it would be a pleasant surprise." 
 
 "No doubt it would be," he said, meaningly. "But 
 what will they think of you? and how will they want 
 to return the favor?" 
 
 Poor IMaggie was too confused to make further 
 defence. 
 
 "They are a lot of drinking, gambling, licentious 
 fellows, who would delight to ruin you if they could, 
 and who are now probably making you the subject of 
 their barrack-room jests. Besides, they are our ene- 
 mies, and should be treated with only the most distant 
 courtesy while we are compelled to harbor them." 
 
 "Is that true?" she asked, "and does it offend you?" 
 
 "It is true," he answered, regarding her with 
 unbending severity. 
 
 Maggie turned swiftly to the table, drew off the 
 cloth, and seizing the dish dumped its contents into 
 the stove. 
 
 Brand sprang forward and caught her arm, but he 
 was too late. 
 
 "They would have done for the poor emigrants, 
 Maggie." 
 
 She made no reply, but dropping the dish, turned 
 and looked eagerly up at him. What she saw encour- 
 aged her, for she threw her arms about his neck and 
 buried her face upon his shoulder. 
 
 "I was afraid that you had forgotten," he said 
 
 tenderly. 
 
 295 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "It was you that seemed to have forgotten," she 
 sobbed, and drew his face down to hers. 
 
 That afternoon was an unusually trying one for 
 Brand. 
 
 On his way home he met Elder Carson, who stopped 
 him for a word of greeting, and said as he was leaving 
 him: "I suppose we shall be overrun this winter by 
 those damned soldiers. There was a row last night at 
 Welch's, and this morning I saw a dandified young 
 officer go into your place." 
 
 Brand made no reply, but he quickened his pace, 
 and an unreasoning tumult of anger raged in his heart. 
 
 "I forbade her to receive any visits from strangers," 
 he muttered to himself. 
 
 When within sight of the house he halted and pulled 
 himself together. 
 
 "This will never do. She must be able to go 
 through with to-morrow' s affair, I will say nothing 
 about it." 
 
 Nevertheless there was an added hardness in his 
 manner and in his eye, as he entered Carissa's sitting- 
 room. 
 
 Something in the forlornness of her attitude as she 
 sat looking out of the western window at the setting 
 sun, one hand lying listlessly in her lap, and the other 
 resting upon the curly head of her boy, who, tired 
 with his play, was snuggling contentedly at her side, 
 appealed to him. 
 
 At the sight, a certain feeling of remorse pushed 
 back his unworthy thoughts of resentment, and soft- 
 ened his voice to unwonted kindness: 
 
 "Carissa, how lonely you look!" 
 
 So absorbed was she that she had not heard his 
 
 296 
 
THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 entrance, and when she heard him she started 
 violently. 
 
 "Oh, Eaton, my husband, I should never be lonely 
 again if I were only sure of your love," she answered, 
 rising to greet him. 
 
 Brand was afraid of what would follow if he yielded 
 to his mood of tenderness. 
 
 "Nonsense, Carissa, you know that I love j^ou. It 
 is your spirit of disobedience that isolates you and 
 causes you to feel lonely. But I will not upbraid you 
 for what is past." 
 
 His words seemed so assured and final! But she 
 would not quite surrender hope. 
 
 She stepped close to him and smiled bravely and 
 sweetly into his face as she said: "Life could be so 
 beautiful and true with us two together. God has 
 given us this little one, he is mine and yours — see, he 
 bears our blended image! Home could be such a 
 sacred sanctuary, such a holy place, such as we said 
 we would build together, when first we talked of the 
 future. Do you think that it is God's voice that bids 
 us destroy all this?" 
 
 "Who speaks of destruction? Carissa, you are 
 unreasonable." He took refuge in his irritation. 
 "Are there no happy homes in this valley? Are there 
 no fond parents who love their children? You are so 
 saturated with prejudice that God's plan arouses your 
 jealousy. Carissa, put this away from you. You have 
 promised to be obedient and I claim that obedience 
 for to-morrow." 
 
 "To-morrow!" All her strength failed her. She 
 dropped hopelessly into her chair. 
 
 "There are certain preliminaries that must be gone 
 
 297 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 through. You must receive your endowments. You 
 must be sealed to me first." 
 
 "Oh, Eaton, must this thing go on? Is our life 
 together ended?" 
 
 His ears were deaf to her heart-broken cry. 
 
 "It must go on, yes! I am persuaded that your 
 eternal salvation and mine depend upon it. To disobey 
 is apostasy. But our life together is not ended, it is just 
 begun and we will belong to each other for eternity as 
 well." 
 
 His tone conveyed an impression of crushing finality 
 to Carissa. It was long before she replied, and then 
 she spoke as though driven by some force outside 
 herself. 
 
 "I will keep my promise, but I shall never receive 
 you as my husband after this is done." 
 
 He did not believe her. He was firmly persuaded 
 that she would yet be convinced. Time would remedy 
 matters. But the threat angered him and he turned away. 
 
 "I shall be very busy this evening. You must be 
 ready by nine to-morrow," he said, as he left her and 
 went out. 
 
 He sent a messenger to notify Maggie to be at the 
 place set apart for the conferring of endowments, and 
 strolled off toward the place where the newly arrived 
 emigrants were fixing their camp for the night. The 
 saying of Elder Carson's concerning the dandified offi- 
 cer crossed his mind. He knew that it must have been 
 Osborne that had called on his wife. 
 
 "I'll take steps after to-morrow to see that the visit 
 is not repeated," he thought. 
 
 And so it came to pass that while Osborne at Rush 
 Valley was calculating the chances of being able to 
 
 298 
 
THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 rescue Carissa, the ceremony was being performed at 
 Salt Lake City, and she was taking the part that many 
 a heart-broken woman has taken since then in this 
 system of evil and passion. 
 
 How great a trial to her fortitude the endowment 
 ceremonies proved to be, no words can tell. To her, 
 it was from first to last an outrage against every 
 womanly feeling. A sacrilegious mummery, a pro- 
 faning of every sacred tradition, a bold farcical com- 
 pound of buffonery, licentious suggestion, and Scrip- 
 tural lore. 
 
 At the outset she was subjected to certain washings 
 and anointings, and was clothed in an undergarment 
 said to possess magical properties of healing and protec- 
 tion. She was compelled to enact the part of Eve in 
 the garden of Eden, with church dignitaries filling the 
 roles of God and the devil. She repeated blood- 
 curdling oaths never to reveal the mysteries that were 
 there made known. Finally, after several long hours 
 of initiatory ceremony, she was led to an altar and 
 solemnly sealed to her husband for time and eternity. 
 
 So benumbed were all her sensibilities that she 
 scarcely thought it strange that iNIaggie was led to 
 her side, and that she was requested to place Maggie's 
 hand in the hand of her husband. What difference did 
 it make? It was for her a horrible ceremony of divorce^ 
 and she was going through it that she might not be 
 separated from her boy. 
 
 When the last rite was performed she was physically 
 and mentally exhausted, and yet strangely relieved of 
 the burden which she had been bearing so long. 
 
 She was almost childishly pleased to find that a car- 
 riage awaited them, and they would not have to walk. 
 
 299 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 And at the door of her home she said, with perfect 
 quietness and courtesy: "You need not come in. I 
 shall soon be rested. You will want to take your new 
 wife home, Eaton. Good-bye. Good-bye, Maggie." 
 
 She retired to her own room, and in a few moments 
 was sleeping soundly. 
 
 In the evening Brand came in. For a moment he 
 was alarmed, when told that she was still sleeping. 
 Light in hand, he quietly stole into the chamber; her 
 regular breathing and the sight of her lips parted in a 
 smile, reassured him. 
 
 "Poor girl," he thought. "This sleep will do her 
 good." 
 
 Before taking his departure, he said to his mother 
 that Carissa must have her sleep out, and on no pre- 
 text was to be disturbed. 
 
 It was not until the middle of the afternoon on the 
 following day that Carissa finally opened her eyes. 
 
 She arose, and kneeling by her bedside found herself 
 naturally, and almost in the language of childhood, 
 thanking her Heavenly Father for the sweet rest of the 
 night, and with no impulse to follow it with distressed 
 and anxious petition. 
 
 She enjoyed bathing her face in the clear, cold 
 water, that had come from the mountains, and been 
 brought from the stream flowing past their door; and 
 found a luxury in uncoiling the great masses of her 
 hair, and running her comb through their glossy 
 folds. 
 
 As she opened the door, Moroni came running to 
 her, and her heart sprang to meet him, but with 
 no spirit of anxious foreboding, such as she had expe- 
 rienced with every conscious thought during the past 
 
 300 
 
THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 months. There was a feeling that all that was forever 
 gone. It belonged to the past. A new life had 
 begun, and she drew a deep breath of thankfulness 
 that she could begin it so free from regret and anxi- 
 ety. Old Mrs. Brand, usually so unobservant, could 
 not fail to notice the miraculous change that had come 
 to her son's wife. 
 
 "I never did see her eat with such relish," she com- 
 mented. "Who'd a thought it?" 
 
 To Carissa there was alluring invitation in the 
 bright, crisp fall day, and in the exhilarating breath of 
 the hills. Clothing herself and Moroni warmly, she 
 took his hand and started out. 
 
 "Let us follow the water. This way, darling, up to 
 its source." 
 
 IMoroni was delighted and stretched his sturdy legs 
 briskly. Soon they left the houses behind them, and 
 began to climb a sloping grade. All about them was 
 the sage-brush, tinting the landscape with a silvery 
 green. Far ahead were the mountains with vivid shades 
 of red and yellow against the gray background. By 
 their side the little rivulet, dashing merrily, sang its 
 song of eternal snows. The air was fresh and bracing, 
 but the rays of the sun were warm. A new color came 
 into Carissa's cheeks, and a new brightness into her 
 eyes. 
 
 Finally, panting with the unaccustomed exercise, 
 she turned, and holding Moroni's warm hand, looked 
 over the panorama of valley and mountain. 
 
 "This is glorious," she said, as her eyes traveled 
 from the near foot-hills of the north to the lofty snow- 
 capped peaks of the south, and traced the beautiful 
 clear-cut profile of the range that closed the mighty 
 
 301 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 gap to the west. Directly before her, but far away 
 and shining like a plate of silver, was the Great Salt 
 Lake, while at her feet was the city, forming a com- 
 paratively insignificant blot upon the wide stretch of 
 impressive landscape. 
 
 "I did not know that it was so beautiful," she said, 
 and seated herself in the midst of the sweet-smelling 
 sage, and seemed, with each breath, to be drawing in 
 new stores of life and energy. How long she sat 
 there she did not know. She was not thinking; she 
 was resting, body and soul. Moroni had found abun- 
 dant occupation in exploring the holes of the ground- 
 squirrels, and in launching twigs and buds upon the 
 swift-flowing little stream. Finally she was aroused. 
 
 "I'se hungry, mamma." 
 
 "Yes, dear, but this has been a happy day. We will 
 come again to-morrow." 
 
 A shade came over her mind as she thought of her 
 husband, but she put it away easily. 
 
 'That is past," she said, and calling to Moroni, 
 they began to descend just as the sun was sinking over 
 the distant hills. 
 
 That night she retired very early, and when Brand, 
 who had been especially busy all day, came to see her, 
 he found her sleeping sweetly as before. There was 
 a strange look of profound peace upon her beautiful 
 face. He was tempted to arouse her, but something 
 restrained him, and it was with a feeling of disap- 
 pointment that he turned away. 
 
 The next morning he called at about ten o'clock. 
 Old Mrs. Brand was alone in the house. 
 
 "Where is Carissa?" he asked. 
 
 "She has gone for a climb, so she said. She took 
 
 302 
 
THE CEREMONY OF DIVORCE 
 
 Moroni and a package with something to eat. She told 
 him that they would play camping out, and would 
 picnic all by themselves." 
 
 "What did you let them go for?" he asked angrily. 
 "That's a strange notion!" 
 
 "I don't see that it's any harm," she replied 
 placidly. "They went yesterday and came back with 
 splendid appetites. She is looking better, too, than I 
 have ever seen her." 
 
 As Brand went out he gazed long up the hill to the 
 eastward. He debated with himself whether he 
 should secure a horse and go in search of them, but 
 finally he said: 
 
 "There's surely no danger. They can't go far. 
 They're neither of them strong enough. But I must 
 caution her. Sometimes the Indians come down into 
 the canyons." 
 
 303 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 That evening Brand came to the house to supper. 
 Carissa had returned from her excursion and was in 
 excellent spirits. She welcomed him with courtesy, 
 but evinced neither warmth nor restraint. She talked 
 freely of the delight she had found in roaming the 
 hills and canyons with Moroni. 
 
 A blazing fire of pine logs was crackling in the 
 open grate; the strong ruddy light brought out her 
 fine profile in relief. She was clad in a loose gown 
 and reclined easily in a large highbacked rocker, one 
 slippered foot resting lightly upon the bearskin rug 
 before the hearth. Her face was in repose, her eyes 
 dreaming, her hands resting; she made a very attrac- 
 tive picture. 
 
 Brand felt very much like making love to her. And 
 after all, was she not his wife? Yet there was that 
 about her that made him hesitate. 
 
 Presently he yielded to inclination and gently took 
 her hand in his. 
 
 She did not draw it away, but looked up in pained 
 surprise. 
 
 "Don't, please. You hurt me," she said in a level 
 colorless voice. 
 
 Brand dropped her hand instantly. A frown gath- 
 ered upon his brow. 
 
 She drew a breath of relief and half smiled up at 
 him. 
 
 304 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 "It is better so — is it not? You have your other 
 interests now," she said quietly. 
 
 "Have you ceased to care for me, Carissa?" asked 
 Brand, hoarsely. 
 
 "Is it not better so?" she answered. "I shall be 
 happy with our boy. I shall not trouble about the 
 past, and the future is in the hands of God." 
 
 Brand knew not what to say. He was angry at his 
 repulse, but this anger was struggling with a feeling of 
 respect for her attitude. Nevertheless there was con- 
 siderable irritation in his voice as he said, rising to go: 
 
 "Very well; if it troubles you and hurts you, I will 
 not stay." A disagreeable impulse led him to add: 
 "I have taken a house for Maggie on West Temple 
 Street. If I can ever serve you, let me know." 
 
 After he had gone he remembered that he had not 
 forbidden her receiving any further visits from 
 Osborne. He thought of returning, but he did not. 
 
 "I'll settle that business with the damned beggar 
 himself, if necessary," he thought. 
 
 After that little vituperative duet between Maury 
 and Osborne, the latter hurried up to his room, washed 
 away the stains of travel, and put on his uniform. A 
 little later he made his way in the direction of 
 Carissa' s cottage. The streets were very dark, only 
 occasionally a feeble light glimmered from the small 
 window of a house. He left the sidewalk and stepped 
 to the middle of the street, to avoid the cross ditches, 
 which were very numerous and carried water onto the 
 lawns and gardens. As he passed the corner of West 
 Temple Street, he caught sight of Brand by the flash- 
 ing light of a store window, going in the opposite 
 direction from his home. Osborne quickened his pace. 
 
 305 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "I may be able after all to see her for a moment, and 
 find out what has happened," he thought. As he 
 neared the house his eye caught the play of the fire- 
 light upon Carissa's sitting-room window. Without 
 hesitation he crossed the lawn and looked in. 
 
 She was sitting before the fire where Brand had left 
 her, but she now held in her arms her night-robed 
 child. Her cheek was resting upon his, and she was 
 rocking him gently back and forth, while the faint 
 murmur of a "lullaby" came to the ears of the 
 watcher outside. 
 
 Osborne could scarcely credit his senses. 
 
 She seemed so much happier and more contented 
 than he had ever expected to find her. He went 
 round to the door and tapped gently, then lifted the 
 latch. 
 
 "May I come in, for just a moment?" 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Osborne, and excuse me a moment," 
 she answered, smiling, as she rose and carried Moroni 
 into the next room. 
 
 "What has happened? You look like a new woman, 
 like your old self, indeed!" cried Osborne, when she 
 returned and offered him her hand. 
 
 "Moroni and I have been climbing the hills," she 
 said with a light laugh. "Mother Nature is good to 
 us when we come to her with our troubles." 
 
 "Why, yes, she's a brick to cure us, if we can only 
 take her medicine," replied Osborne, wondering. 
 
 Her words and manner somehow troubled him, and 
 yet he was glad that the nervous look was gone from 
 her eyes. If she was under the influence of some 
 mental anaesthetic, he certainly did not care to dis- 
 turb its operation, and so he quietly turned the subject 
 
 306 
 
THE A W^ A K E N I N G 
 
 to her rambles, the beauty of the country, and his own 
 experiences on the plains. It was late when he rose 
 to go. 
 
 "May I accompany you sometime on your jaunts, 
 Mrs. Brand?" 
 
 "Certainly, whenever you like," she responded. 
 
 Out in the street he was halted by a man calling: 
 
 "Hello there! Wait a moment. Can I get a light?" 
 
 He gave the man a match, and as soon as it was 
 lighted, it was held up a moment toward Osborne's 
 face, and then all was darkness. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, is it?" a voice exclaimed, sneeringly. 
 "I wondered who it might be that was visiting Sister 
 Brand at this late hour." 
 
 Osborne struck out viciously with his clenched fist, 
 but his challenger had slipped away. He heard the 
 sound of retreating footsteps, and darted in pursuit, 
 but he soon found that he was chasing empty shad- 
 ows. His mind was filled with vague fears as he made 
 his way back to his lodgings. 
 
 During the next few ^veeks Carissa lived almost 
 altogether out of doors. The weather was superb, and 
 it came to be her custom to take Moroni soon after 
 breakfast, and, with a light lunch in her basket, leave 
 the city and climb the hills to the north or the east, 
 or follow the glancing waters of City Creek or Emi- 
 gration Canyon. Osborne did not often visit her, 
 although on two occasions he joined her in her explo- 
 rations, and the hours spent together were to him very 
 pleasant. 
 
 Brand did not trouble her. He was nursing his 
 anger and waiting with irritable expectancy until she 
 should be in a mood to receive him again with becom- 
 
 307 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHEl^ 
 
 ing submission. He called, it is true, several times, 
 but her unvarying manner of greeting him sent him 
 away silent, but with increased inward exasperation. 
 He was often most unaccountably cross with Maggie, 
 and while he was about his business he wore an 
 unbending air of sternness. He had heard nothing 
 of Osborne's second visit, and knew nothing of his 
 being a party to Carissa's rambles, but he somehow 
 began to associate him with his wife's acquiescence in 
 their separation. 
 
 The sight of a soldier became intolerable to him, 
 and he came near to a serious altercation with Captain 
 Ingalls, who, in passing with a group of officers, 
 chanced to blow some cigar smoke into his face. 
 
 "You damned impudent whelp, you!" cried Brand, 
 furiously, and made a motion to strike. 
 
 Captain Ingalls retreated a step and placed his hand 
 upon his sw^ord. 
 
 President Young, who was standing in a doorway 
 and had witnessed it all, immediately interposed. He 
 laid his hand upon Brand's shoulder, and said author- 
 itatively: 
 
 "Brother Brand, you must apologize for that remark 
 instantly." 
 
 Brand hesitated a moment, and then said, while a 
 flush covered his face: 
 
 "I do apologize. I am in a state of nervous irrita- 
 bility, and scarcely know what I said." 
 
 Captain Ingalls saluted an ironical acknowledg- 
 ment, and the incident ended. 
 
 "What is the matter with you. Brother Brand?" 
 asked Brigham, when they were alone. "This is not 
 like you." 
 
 308 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 Brand passed his hand over his brow as he said: 
 "The presence of these soldiers is a constant insult. 
 They are continually running after our women, and I 
 fear their presence will breed no end of mischief." 
 
 "Have patience a little," Brigham responded. "The 
 time is coming when not a single soldier will be toler- 
 ated in this valley. This detachment will leave 
 shortly, and I pledge you my word that if any more 
 come they will be stopped on the borders. But now 
 you must restrain your feelings. We are not ready 
 yet to strike." 
 
 When returning that night to Maggie's house he met 
 Jock Quibble, who spent most of his time in charge of 
 the church cattle, but VN^ho had been hanging about the 
 city for a few days. His manner indicated that he 
 had something to say, the saying of which gave him 
 vindictive delight. 
 
 "I was wondering. Brother Brand, if you knew that 
 your wife, as was, took picnic trips with one of these 
 soldier chaps?" he said with a sneer. 
 
 In an instant Brand caught him by the throat. 
 
 "Speak, you thundering idiot, or, by God, your 
 chance will be gone forever. What have you got to 
 tell me?" 
 
 "Let go and I will tell you," gasped Quibble. 
 
 Brand released his hold, and Quibble stammered: 
 " 'Twas a week ago, I was up the canyon after cattle, 
 and there I see your wife and the boy. They was eat- 
 in' their lunch, and one of them soldier chaps was 
 with them. His horse was tied down below and he 
 was fetchin' water from the creek." 
 
 "Is that all you know?" Brand's face was suffused. 
 His eyes searched the countenance of his informant. 
 
 309 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Quibble nodded. With an oath Brand pushed him 
 away and walked on rapidly. 
 
 He went straight to his own room, took two pistols 
 from his desk, loaded them carefully, slipped them in 
 his belt under his coat and stepped into the kitchen. 
 
 'TU not be back to supper to-night, Maggie, and I 
 may be late; don't wait for me." 
 
 As he walked up the street he felt that his blood 
 was singularly cool. There was no danger of his act- 
 ing rashly. He was going to Carissa, and he would 
 listen to what she had to say. He saw her mentally 
 as she appeared to him that night when she discarded 
 him. The vision of her beauty was in his eyes. He 
 heard her voice saying, "Don't, please, you hurt me." 
 
 He was rudely jostled by some one passing, and 
 turned angrily. It was Elder Carson, who said: 
 "What's up. Brother Brand? Anything gone wrong?" 
 
 "No. And if it had, it's none of your business," 
 growled Brand. 
 
 "By the way, is that young officer, Osborne, living 
 at your house? I saw him coming out rather late the 
 other night." 
 
 "When was this?" Brand asked sternly. 
 
 "Oh, a few weeks ago. But it's none of my busi- 
 ness, I suppose," drawled Carson sarcastically. 
 
 Brand made no reply but passed on. The wind was 
 blowing strongly from the direction of the lake. He 
 was conscious of a disagreeable taste of salt on his 
 lips. 
 
 When he reached the house, he found that the even- 
 ing meal was spread, and they were about to take 
 their places. 
 
 "May I sit down with you?" he asked. 
 
 310 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 He sought to make his tone natural, but the request 
 sounded strangely to himself as he made it. 
 
 Carissa immediately turned to the corner cupboard 
 to reach another plate. Brand noticed her graceful 
 movements, her new appearance of health, her fresh 
 color and elastic step. She had never seemed so 
 desirable to him; but he set his teeth hard as he 
 remembered Quibble's story. As she returned to the 
 table, her sleeve brushed against his arm. A sweet 
 fragrance from the past seemed wafted toward him. 
 The blood quickened in his veins, he felt his temples 
 throbbing. Mrs. Brand left the room to make some 
 additions to the table. 
 
 As the door closed behind her, Carissa stepped 
 again to the cupboard. Brand was watching her 
 keenly. Suddenly he sprang forward and seized her 
 uplifted arm. Her back was toward him, and he 
 roughly pressed her head down on his shoulder. 
 Before she could realize his intention or make a move 
 in self-defence, he was covering her face with passion- 
 ate kisses. She sought to free herself, but he held 
 her fast. 
 
 "Dearest, I love you. I have been mad, indeed, but 
 I cannot live without you," he whispered passionately. 
 
 She ceased her physical struggles, but a look of pain 
 swept over her face and she closed her eyes. 
 
 "Come into the other room," he murmured. 
 
 He led her into the sitting-room, placed her trem- 
 bling form in the great chair before the grate, knelt 
 by her side, took her hands in his and kissed them. 
 
 She unclosed her eyes and looked at him. His face 
 was strong, there were fine lines in it. It was a weak 
 face, too. She could read it better than formerly. 
 
 311 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Weak along the lines of self-indulgence. A tremor of 
 fear passed over her. 
 
 "Why did you come?" she asked pathetically. 
 "Was it kind to disturb my peace, when nothing can 
 be changed?" 
 
 "Carissa, listen to me," cried Brand in an eager 
 tone. 
 
 He rose to his feet and stood before her, a masterful 
 presence. "I have been growing desperate at the 
 thought of losing you. You say that it was my fault? 
 Yes, I should have chosen you in preference to my 
 God. I see it now, but I thought you would become 
 convinced. I have always loved you. My love for 
 you was near to turn me from my faith." 
 
 As she listened a flush mounted in her face. She 
 interrupted him with, "You speak of your religion. 
 It is not a religion to me. It is a horrible system of 
 blasphemy. True religion cannot thrive on falsehood 
 and deceit and immorality. When I think of that, the 
 love you seek to invoke becomes withered and black- 
 ened and shrivelled as with hot iron." 
 
 Brand shrank from the intensity of her bitterness. 
 But in a moment he asked, and as he spoke he felt a 
 revival of the old spirit of resentful irritation. 
 
 "Would it have made a difference, if I had told you 
 of this revelation when I first heard it in New York?" 
 
 "No; not if you had there allied yourself to so 
 monstrous a thing." 
 
 "Would you have married me if you had known in 
 England that this was part of our system of belief?" 
 
 "No; I could never have been willing even to listen 
 to you." 
 
 "Then under the circumstances our boy must have 
 
 312 
 
THE AWAKENING 
 
 come into the world under false pretences. How does 
 it happen that you can still love him?" said Brand 
 with cruel folly. 
 
 "Why, what has he done, the darling? He is inno- 
 cent, he has not deceived me, his mind is untainted 
 with evil, his lips are free from lying, and please God, 
 my life shall be to keep him true." 
 
 A terrible shadow crept over Brand's face. His 
 voice had an ugly menacing quality as he asked: "Do 
 you think you will be permitted to bring him up in 
 apostasy? Be careful, or you and he will part." 
 
 It was like a stab in the heart to Carissa, but she 
 showed a brave front. Her eyes flashed as she said: 
 "You dare not. I bought the right to keep him, by 
 my obedience. You dare not take him from me." 
 
 "Pretty obedience, indeed!" said Brand fiercely. 
 "You shut yourself away from me. Is that obedience? 
 If I chance to touch you, you draw back and say that 
 I hurt you. Is that obedience? You receive my ene- 
 mies, and the enemies of my people in your house at 
 night. Is that obedience? You take excursions and 
 picnic parties with one of these damned strutting sol- 
 diers. Is that obedience? Answer me!" 
 
 "Eaton, look at me, please, and tell me do you 
 doubt me. Do you doubt my purity or my loyalty? 
 Do you believe that anything has come between us, 
 save this wicked belief of yours?" 
 
 She spoke so quietly, so softly, with such ineffable 
 dignity, that a spasm of shame went through Brand. 
 But he answered her roughly: 
 
 "That is all very well to say, but things have an ugly 
 look." 
 
 313 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 She looked at him a moment in scornful indignation 
 and then said with a flash of outraged pride: 
 
 "Husband, I tell you this, when I take a lover I will 
 do it honestly, for love's sake, and will make no pre- 
 tence that God has told me to do it for His sake. And 
 I don't think you, Eaton, could cast a single stone 
 at me without proving yourself the worst kind of 
 coward." 
 
 Brand felt the thrust and his face went pale. He 
 got up and went out without a word. 
 
 314 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A STOLEN INTERVIEW 
 
 There was a new military road being surveyed 
 through Parley's Park to the Weber, and for some 
 weeks Osborne was detailed to escort the surveying 
 party. 
 
 It was not until the middle of December that he 
 was released from his active duties and permitted to 
 return to his old quarters in the city. Plis first 
 thought was to call upon Carissa. All his experi- 
 ences, his observations, and his more intimate 
 knowledge of prevailing conditions, had increased his 
 unwillingness to leave her behind him, when he took 
 his departure in the spring. 
 
 The strangeness of the situation scarcely occurred 
 to him. She no longer seemed to be the wife of 
 another man, and under his legitimate control and 
 protection. If he had put his thoughts into words he 
 would have said that a plural marriage was no mar- 
 riage. It could offer no protection. It was in itself 
 an insult to pure womanhood. That the act of taking 
 a second wife was a release of all obligation on the 
 part of the first, and should restore to her her liberty 
 of action if she cared to exercise it. 
 
 He pitied Carissa with all his heart, he respected 
 and admired her, and although he had never dreamed 
 of love, still he had never before been so strongly 
 drawn to any woman. During his long absence she 
 had been almost continually in his thoughts. 
 
 315 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He did not wait to do more than snatch a hasty 
 lunch, change his uniform, and leave a scribbled note 
 of greeting for Maury, before he started for the Brand 
 cottage. 
 
 He found Carissa seated in a low chair on the ver- 
 anda, looking toward the mountains in the distance. 
 She seemed somewhat agitated on his appearance, but 
 she smiled brightly, and a look of relief came over 
 her face. Impulsively she extended her hand, saying: 
 
 "It has been so long since I have seen you, and I 
 could not hear of you." 
 
 "I was assigned to duty out of the city," he 
 explained. "I have worried about you, and have 
 fretted over the necessity of being away. Is there 
 any change?" 
 
 A vivid blush mantled her cheek, her eyes that had 
 met his so frankly became troubled; she hesitated and 
 then said slowly: 
 
 "1 dare not invite you in. I have not dared to ask 
 about you. Sometimes I feared that something terri- 
 ble had happened. No! do not question me. Only 
 to see you has been an intense relief, but — " She 
 paused, and then said in a low voice: "You have 
 enemies here, and so have I. We must not be seen 
 together, it would be fatal. You must go now. Your 
 very coming here is dangerous." 
 
 Osborne was a bit startled, but he understood per- 
 fectly. He glanced around, but there was no one in 
 sight. 
 
 "Tell me what has happened," he said earnestly. 
 
 "I cannot," she said. "But, believe me, I do not 
 speak idly. It is too terribly true." 
 
 The voicing of her apprehension seemed to inten- 
 
 316 
 
A STOLEN INTERVIEW 
 
 sify it. "Please do not stay, we must say good-bye. 
 Now! see I am trembling with fear for you." She 
 arose and made a gesture of dismissal, glancing tim- 
 idly in the direction of the city. 
 
 "Just one moment," he pleaded. "I must see you 
 again. We cannot part like this! Can I meet you in 
 the old place up the canyon?" 
 
 "No! No! I have not been on the hills for weeks!" 
 
 "It must be here, then," he announced decisively. 
 "I will come quietly after it is dark. Do not shake 
 your head, for I shall certainly come. Do you think 
 I can be left in ignorance of what concerns you? Or 
 that I can let all plans for your welfare drop out of 
 my thought? I will go now, but surely you can trust 
 me; you 7mist let me be your friend. I will come 
 to-night and you must tell me w^hat to do. If you can 
 see me, and remember I shall expect it, leave your 
 handkerchief on the window and I will tap just once. 
 There is so much to be said, but — good-bye." He 
 turned abruptly away, driven by her look of fear. 
 
 Instead of returning directly to the city he turned to 
 the north, climbed the Bench and made his way by a 
 cattle trail through the sage-brush to the canyon road, 
 and thence to his lodging. He encountered no one 
 and believed that his visit had been unobserved. 
 
 That night as he went out on the street he saw a 
 crowd of soldiers passing into one of the grog-shops. 
 They were already drunk, noisy and waking the 
 echoes with ribald song. Fraternizing with them 
 were a number of Mormons, who had so far forgotten 
 the Word of Wisdom as to have joined in the profane 
 revellings, and all were evidently bent on a night's 
 
 carousal. 
 
 317 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Osborne was in the act of passing this group, when 
 one of the Mormons, observing him, stepped forward 
 and hailed him. 
 
 "See here," he called, "I've been looking for you. 
 Come here a minute." With drunken gravity he 
 insisted upon conducting him to the corner of the 
 building. 
 
 Osborne was about to break away and send the 
 fellow about his business, when a name fell from his 
 lips that arrested his attention. 
 
 He said impatiently, "What do you want with me?" 
 
 "I've got something to say about Brother Brand. 
 It's all right if you keep out of his w^ay, but he knows 
 about your canyon trips with his wife, and he's bent 
 on makin' this place unhealthy for you. D'you see?" 
 
 "Who are you, and what do you know about this?" 
 demanded Osborne. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, never you mind. He's done 
 me a dirty trick, and I'd like to see you hit first, and 
 hit hard, that's all. There's nothin' queer about this. 
 Can you give me a bit of silver?" 
 
 Osborne gave him a coin and passed on. He would 
 have attached little or no importance to this warning, 
 but that it fitted in so perfectly with Carissa's words. 
 He knew so well the violent character of those with 
 whom he might have to deal, that he thought it well 
 to be on his guard. 
 
 He began to realize that he and his comrades were 
 in the midst of a foreign community, which was at 
 heart hostile and fanatical, unrestrained in its passions, 
 and which barely covered its resentment at the pres- 
 ence of United States troops by a diplomatic veneer of 
 courtesy. But it would be unrelenting in its ven- 
 
 318 
 
A STOLEN INTERVIEW 
 
 geance if it were assured of immunity. Nevertheless 
 he did not turn back, but under cover of the darkness 
 retraced his route of the afternoon, and was soon 
 standing under the window of Carissa's sitting-room. 
 
 There was no light within, except that of the fire 
 which dimly illuminated the interior. He looked for 
 the handkerchief, but it was not there. Should he 
 take the chance and tap upon the window? It sud- 
 denly occurred to him that Brand might be with her. 
 A fierce wave of unreasoning anger passed over him. 
 What right had this man to visit the woman whose 
 love he had so grossly outraged? He recalled the 
 flush on her cheek and the look of trouble in her eyes. 
 Could it be that she had submitted to receive him after 
 all? That would be impossible. He remembered her 
 previous declarations, and was assured, and yet he 
 resisted the impulse to call her to the window. 
 
 "I will let her know I have been here, and that I 
 will call again," he said to himself. 
 
 He tore a fragment from an envelope, wrote on it 
 the words "to-morrow night," guiding his pencil by 
 the sense of feeling rather than sight, and tucked it 
 securely under the frame of the window. 
 
 Instead of returning to the city he struck out for the 
 hills. The wind was blowing sharply from the east, 
 there was more than a touch of frost in its biting 
 caress, but the tingling sensation was agreeable to 
 him, and he only buttoned his coat more closely about 
 him and walked on briskly. 
 
 It was three or four months before the detachment 
 would leave the valley, but the time would come, and 
 he would hold the colonel to his promise. There 
 would doubtless be diflficulties, but he would over- 
 
 319 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 come them. From San Francisco they would take 
 ship for New York. On the long voyage it would be 
 his task to beguile Carissa into forgetfulness of her 
 sorrows. He pictured the welcome that she would 
 receive at the hands of his mother and sister, and with 
 what tender sympathy they would listen to her story. 
 Beyond this the vision was not so clear, but his heart 
 was warm and glowing, in spite of the increasing cold 
 of the night, as he gave free rein to his fancy. 
 
 Finally he turned and looked back. The sky was 
 overcast with clouds, the valley was wrapped in 
 shadow and yet the night was not impenetrable. His 
 eyes, accustomed to the gloom, could distinguish his 
 path for a short distance before him, and far down 
 below there twinkled a few feeble lights that marked 
 the location of the city. In one spot a larger dot of 
 light blurred by the wind indicated a camp-fire, 
 probably in the neighborhood of one of the corrals. 
 He began to retrace his steps, and the warning that 
 he had received recurred to him. 
 
 "I don't think there's much in it," he thought. 
 "And yet it will be as well to be on my guard." 
 
 "Where have you been?" inquired Maury, as 
 Osborne entered the room. 
 
 "Oh, I've been strolling over the hills." 
 
 Maury looked at him curiously in silence for some 
 moments, then he said: "I suppose it's none of my 
 business, but it begins to look to me as if you were 
 bitten somehow. You'd better be careful. There's 
 too much theology in this valley to indulge your fancy 
 with safety. You ought to know enough to take your 
 own advice to Ingalls." 
 
 "Look here, Maury, I want to ask you something. 
 
 320 
 
A STOLEN INTERVIEW 
 
 And I want a serious answer," said Osborne, in a 
 grave tone. 
 
 Maury threw himself astride a chair, and leaned his 
 chin upon the back as he replied, "All right, fire 
 away, old man." 
 
 "If you had a sister who was entrapped into this 
 den of horrors, who married a man in good faith, 
 because she believed him to be honorable and worthy 
 of her love, but who discovered too late that he had 
 an unlimited capacity for women, and in spite of her 
 heartbroken protests compelled her to be a partner in 
 his polygamical schemes, what would you do?" 
 
 "I should shoot him dead certain, and then get shot 
 myself in trying to take her away," replied Maury, 
 promptly. "But look here, old fellow, she's not your 
 sister, and you're running a devilish risk." 
 
 "No, she's not my sister, but she's a good woman in 
 distress," said Osborne naively. 
 
 Maury laughed heartily. "My dear boy," he said 
 dryly, "if you set yourself the task of liberating every 
 woman in this region who is suffering from heart-ache, 
 you'll need to call on Uncle Sam to get you out of this 
 valley alive. Though it does beat me how so many of 
 the women stick up for the system." 
 
 Osborne pondered a moment, and then said: "I'm 
 going to tell you all about it." 
 
 "You might as well," said Maury. "I'm safe." 
 
 The story was a rather long one in the telling, and 
 at its conclusion Osborne said: "I'm going ahead 
 with this thing in spite of fate, and I may need help. 
 Will you stand by me?" 
 
 Maury refilled and lighted his pipe before replying, 
 and then said meditatively, as though weighing the 
 
 321 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 chances, "Every time, for the matter of that, you bet. 
 Still, old man, it's a serious thing to interfere in the 
 domestic concerns of others. I don't recall ever being 
 asked before to help to carry off another man's wife. 
 And it seems that the other fellow has gained some 
 inkling of your interest in the lady, and considers it 
 intrusive. It's a jolly situation. There'll be fun in it, 
 I'm thinking." 
 
 It was glorious starlight the following night, when 
 Osborne made his way over the fields to his antici- 
 pated interview with Carissa. The air was still and 
 cold, a slight sound, as of the crackling of a twig, 
 could be heard a long distance. The night was not 
 favorable for concealment, if any one should chance 
 to be about. He knew the suspicion that would attach 
 to Carissa in the event of discovery, and yet he felt 
 that he must see her. He was eager to be in her pres- 
 ence, to hear her voice, to look upon her face, perhaps 
 to touch her hand. He believed that he was incapa- 
 ble of bringing trouble upon her, through selfish con- 
 siderations; although for the chance of being near her 
 he was evidently willing not only to dare any personal 
 peril, but also to expose her to some risk. But then, 
 when was a man's love utterly unselfish? 
 
 The house stood on what was known as the North 
 Bench, and faced the south, and at the back there was 
 a young grove of pear trees. The house was sur- 
 rounded by a well-kept lawn, broken here and there 
 by dwarf shrubbery. 
 
 As Osborne entered the grove he suddenly saw a 
 dark figure moving about in the shadow, but clearly 
 silhouetted against the starlit clearing. It was Carissa. 
 As he advanced toward her, she came to meet him. 
 
 322 
 
A STOLEN INTERVIEW 
 
 "I was afraid that you would be rash enough to 
 come," she said, with gentle reproach. "It has made 
 me suffer agonies of fear." 
 
 "I had to see you," he said simply, as he took her 
 hand and would have kissed it; but she withdrew it. 
 
 She stood with clasped hands and bended head, as 
 she said, in a low voice: "I have done what I said I 
 could not do. I have received my husband again!" 
 
 Osborne made an exclamation of incredulity. 
 
 "I can scarcely believe it myself," she went on, 
 wearily. How pitifully white and cold her face looked, 
 as she continued in drooping tones: "There was a 
 time when I could resist, but he has taught me to fear 
 him. I did not know that he could be so hard and 
 cruel." 
 
 "My God! Is he hard with you? You who have 
 given him all your life, and are so worthy of all love 
 and tenderness?" cried Osborne, with great rage. He 
 felt in some odd way that Brand was doing him a 
 personal injury. 
 
 "It is this heartless system that has changed him. I 
 knew him when he was not like that." 
 
 Osborne winced at the words. He was impatient 
 with her for urging this defence, for a great love and 
 longing possessed him to take her away from all this 
 that was crushing out the joy of her life. 
 
 She was the first to break the silence. 
 
 "But there is something else, and you must know it, 
 for it concerns you. He has learned of our former 
 meetings. You know their character even as I do. 
 But his mind is poisoned, and he has put the most ter- 
 rible construction upon them." She paused as though 
 the words choked her, and then proceeded, breath- 
 
 323 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 lessly, "He has made terrible threats. He has sworn 
 that if you ever speak to me again he will shoot you 
 like a dog. At first I met him bravely, and I silenced 
 him, but since then I know that he has indulged in 
 horrible suspicions. You must promise to stay away 
 and to avoid him, or my anxiety will be more than I 
 can bear." 
 
 Osborne hesitated, but he saw how intense was her 
 alarm. 
 
 'Yes, I will, for your sake," he said at length. 
 "That is, I will, if you will promise me that when we 
 leave in the spring, you will let me take you away 
 from this hole?" 
 
 "Ah, for my boy's sake how gladly would I leave 
 here! But that seems so impossible. There is no 
 way out," said Carissa, with infinite sadness. 
 
 'Yes, there is a way," Osborne said, hopefully. "The 
 colonel has promised to help me. It is terrible to 
 have to wait till the spring, but the canyons are already 
 blocked with snow. Keep brave, keep well. I'll get 
 you out of this, cost what it may." 
 
 "Do you really mean it? Is it possible to succeed?" 
 gasped Carissa, eagerly, her hope kindling at the con- 
 fidence in his tone. 
 
 "As true as there's a God in Heaven! Yes, if it 
 costs my life!" answered Osborne, in a deep, passionate 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, my friend, oh! oh!" cried Carissa, convul- 
 sively. She seized his arm with her two hands, bowed 
 her head upon her hands and wept pitifully. 
 
 Nor were the man's eyes dry. He touched her head 
 gently and murmured, "My poor girl! My poor girl!" 
 
 324 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 CHRISTMAS DOINGS 
 
 It was Christmas morning, 1854. To Carissa there 
 came a momentary beguilement of sorrow as she wit- 
 nessed Moroni's delight at the simple little gifts she 
 had prepared for him. Back and forth across the floor 
 he ran, bringing each new treasure for her inspection, 
 and satisfied only when he thought she shared his hap- 
 piness. Was it strange that the associations of this 
 day made her position seem doubly hard to bear? 
 
 'It would be difficult to analyze her thought. Grief 
 struggled with outraged pride and wounded love. She 
 knew herself to be worse than widowed. She had 
 given unreservedly all the wealth of her love and 
 simple trust; but it had not been enough! She felt 
 that she was cheapened in her own sight, and in the 
 eyes of the world. Her only refuge had been to 
 repudiate any share in the transaction, and to with- 
 hold herself absolutely from the man who had so 
 foully depreciated her worth. But she had been 
 dragged from this refuge. As she remembered the 
 night when he returned to her and claimed a right 
 that she denied, and of times since then when he had 
 demanded of her the satisfaction of his passionate 
 desires, she shuddered and pitied herself as one who 
 had sold honor for a price. True, the price had been 
 permission to live with her boy, but the result was that 
 she felt herself to be an associate in a gross and vulgar 
 
 325 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 crime. Brand had covered his sin against her with 
 the cloak of his religion, but it only served to make 
 "his religion" more horrible and sickening to her. 
 
 She was worse than widowed indeed. The man 
 whom she had loved, and loved so truly that the 
 memory of it gave her pain, had become her worst 
 enemy. 
 
 Such thoughts were dark, indeed, against the back- 
 ground of this day's bright traditions. As she watched 
 Moroni at his play and patiently smiled in response 
 to his appeals, she was struggling with a harassing 
 thought. 
 
 She wondered if his father would remember the day 
 and bring gifts. And a prayer, prompted by bitter- 
 ness, went up from her heart, "O God, spare us the 
 pain of such mockery!" 
 
 Brand did not remember the day. The past week 
 he had spent with Maggie. She took things as a 
 matter of course, and acquiesced in the necessary 
 irregularities of a polygamous household with perfect 
 equanimity. Brand's resentment toward Carissa had 
 resumed its sway, and was becoming dominant. His 
 indulgence in cruelty was making him cruel. She 
 humiliated him more by her way of submission than 
 by her resistance. He knew that it was enforced. 
 He had battered at her prejudices and had broken 
 through them by violence, but had not bent them, 
 and he now realized that in defeat she had drawn her- 
 self away from him and was the real victor. 
 
 A sinister thought had been present with him for 
 weeks. He had held it in check, but he was now 
 beginning to give it free rein. 
 
 "It is not her prejudice alone that is standing in my 
 
 326 
 
CHRISTMAS DOINGS 
 
 way and ruining my happiness. There is some other 
 influence at work." 
 
 He felt an ungovernable hatred when he thought of 
 Osborne. 
 
 "He has called on her twice that I know of. He 
 met her on her rambles. It's devilish strange if she's 
 so innocent." 
 
 In the meanwhile he took an indirect revenge by 
 cultivating a deadly hatred of the soldiers. While 
 Brigham and his counsellors were astutely showing 
 their "military guests" every attention possible, by 
 means of public functions and social festivities, Brand 
 was driven by his jealousy to create a hostile party, 
 ready to manifest its antagonism at the first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 On the afternoon of this Christmas day the numer- 
 ous grog-shops of the city were thronged with soldiers, 
 traders, Indians, and mountain men. There were 
 many INIormons among them. Church, as well as mil- 
 itary discipline, had been greatly relaxed during the 
 past months. There were some disturbances during 
 the day. Tongues unloosed by liquor uttered insults, 
 and insults were hurled back in reply. 
 
 Word was presently brought to the officers that 
 there was every prospect of there being a serious 
 fight, unless the soldiers were looked after. Osborne, 
 therefore, went down to the chief saloon, kept by a 
 Saint in good standing, to give instructions to the 
 sergeant of the guard. 
 
 On his way he overtook and passed Brand, without 
 stopping to wish him more than a formal good-day. 
 Brand had been drinking. Originally of very temper- 
 ate habits, he had nevertheless during the past few 
 
 327 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 weeks been drinking to excess. He did not drink for 
 conviviality. He drank alone, and grew more taciturn 
 the more he drank. He laid it all at Carissa's 
 door. 
 
 As he saw Osborne go by, something gripped at his 
 heart. There was the man that he hated. Everything 
 that he had suffered, all that he had lost came before 
 him. He knew nothing of Osborne's recent interviews 
 with his wife, but it flashed over him that somehow 
 everything would be simpler with this man out of the 
 way. He turned and followed him into the saloon. 
 
 For a moment he stood in the doorway and looked 
 upon the scene. Saints and soldiers were standing at 
 the bar, or gambling at the little tables. There was 
 much loud talking. Oaths, jests, and laughter passed 
 from one to the other. His eyes wandered from group 
 to group until they rested upon Osborne, who had 
 started to return. 
 
 Every evil passion came to the surface in Brand's 
 consciousness. He fixed his gaze upon the face of the 
 man he hated. Everything else in the room became 
 shadowy and indistinct. He reached for his pistol, 
 slowly cocked it, took aim and fired. 
 
 The act was but the mechanical performance of a 
 deed long perpetrated in thought. The report startled 
 him, and yet he was glad it was done. But why did 
 not his enemy fall? 
 
 He saw Osborne still advancing, the look unchanged 
 upon his face. He was not aware that his arm had 
 been knocked up while his finger was on the trigger. 
 Suddenly a heavy blow fell upon him from behind. 
 
 "You cowardly assassin," cried Maury, who had 
 entered just in time to be of service to his friend. 
 
 328 
 
CHRISTMAS DOINGS 
 
 Immediately there was a rush. The half-intoxicated 
 soldiers, thinking the shot was the signal for a general 
 massacre, fought their way fiercely to the door. 
 Neither they nor the Mormons knew the cause of the 
 disturbance, but both parties desired to reach the 
 open. Maury was borne backward by the rush, while 
 Osborne was carried to the street in the midst of a 
 struggling, fighting mob. A few shots were exchanged, 
 and a couple of soldiers and several Mormons were 
 wounded. 
 
 As soon as Maury could extricate himself, he gave a 
 few sharp orders and the soldiers fell into line. A 
 crowd of excited men with arms in their hands was 
 gathering. Someone spread the report that the sol- 
 diers had fired on the citizens, and the number of the 
 wounded and the fierce look upon the faces of the 
 soldiers seemed to lend confirmation to the tale. A 
 call was sent for the Mormon legion, and threats of 
 extermination were freely uttered. 
 
 At length ]\Iaury and Osborne succeeded in getting 
 the soldiers back to their quarters, where they were kept 
 under arms pending an adjustment. At sundown there 
 were two hostile camps within striking distance of 
 each other in the city, both sides eager to avenge 
 insults and wrongs, and preparing for battle on the 
 morrow. 
 
 The immediate cause of the strife seemed to be 
 known only to the three chief actors, who made no 
 report to their superiors on this point. 
 
 "We cannot drag her name into the affair," said 
 Osborne, and Maury assented. 
 
 "I tell you, old man, I thought it was all over with 
 me. His pistol was held straight and his hand was 
 
 329 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 without a tremor. I shan't forget it, Maury, in a 
 hurry," said Osborne, gripping his savior's hand. 
 
 "A pretty close shave. He's dangerous; but if he 
 isn't killed, he'll be laid up for a time. He must be 
 pretty badly bruised with all that crowd passing over 
 him; and I didn't tap him lightly over the ear either," 
 responded Maury, glancing ruefully at his swollen 
 left hand. 
 
 When Colonel Steptoe arrived he asked many sharp 
 questions. 
 
 "It started in a saloon row," said Maury. "There's 
 not much love lost between the troops and the citizens 
 at the best, and bad liquor mixed with bad blood will 
 cause a fight anywhere." 
 
 Contrary to ^Maury's anticipation. Brand was not 
 seriously hurt; the blow that he received stunned him, 
 but he fell a little to one side of the doorway, and was 
 only slightly injured by the rushing mob. He was 
 partly conscious of what was going on, but was 
 unable to rise. The disturbance was still at its height 
 outside, when he succeeded in getting to his feet, and 
 making his way to the deserted bar, he helped himself 
 to a glass of whiskey. The stimulant braced him, but 
 still he felt dazed. He sat down upon a chair and 
 looked at his soiled clothes, and then at his bruised 
 and bloody hand. 
 
 "Some brute has crushed his heel upon it," he 
 thought. 
 
 Suddenly he remembered Osborne. He heard a 
 pistol shot and fierce cries from a little farther down 
 the street. 
 
 "I failed this time," he said aloud, "but he'll not 
 leave this valley alive." He listened a moment; the 
 
 330 
 
CHRISTMAS DOINGS 
 
 sound of shouting had died away in the direction of 
 the soldiers' quarters. He took out his handkerchief 
 and clumsily bandaged his wounded hand, then he 
 brushed the dirt from his clothes as well as possible, 
 picked up his hat from the floor, and stepped into the 
 street. There was no one in sight, the city seemed to 
 have been suddenly deserted. 
 
 "I'll go to Maggie and let her doctor my hand," he 
 said to himself. "She's clever at such things, and 
 won't be over-curious." 
 
 Slowly he passed along the street. He found him- 
 self more shaken than he thought. Maggie was stand- 
 ing in the doorway, shading her face with her hand. 
 When Brand approached her she hurried toward 
 him. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked in alarm. "Are you hurt?" 
 She glanced toward the city with a fierce look upon 
 her face. 
 
 "Never mind, girl. I'll be all right; a drunken sol- 
 dier attacked me, and there was a fight, but all I need 
 is a little nursing. Can you get some water to bathe 
 this thing?" and he unwrapped the handkerchief and 
 showed the livid bruise. 
 
 That night, after all was quiet in the city and in the 
 barracks, Osborne, who was being relieved of his 
 guard by Maury, said to him: 
 
 "I'm going up on the hill. She must have heard 
 the tumult, and may be a bit nervous. I'll be back 
 before the moon rises." 
 
 "Look here, old fellow, hadn't you better drop it? 
 That brute has spotted you, and next time I may not be 
 on hand, you know. Besides, I guess he is not want- 
 ing in hirelings," said Maury, earnestly. 
 
 331 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Osborne turned upon him squarely, almost fiercely, 
 and said: 
 
 "You might as well know that I'm into this affair 
 for all I'm worth. She has my pledge, and I'll 
 never leave this place unless she goes with me. If I 
 went back on that poor girl now, I should have to 
 curse you to the end of the chapter for saving my 
 life." 
 
 Osborne went straight to the house. The night was 
 dark, but he knew the way perfectly, and his eyes 
 soon became accustomed to the gloom. As he 
 approached the window his pulse gav^e a sudden throb; 
 something white was lying upon the ledge. He lifted 
 it to his face, it was Carissa's handkerchief. He gave 
 a quick soft tap upon the window. Almost immedi- 
 ately it was opened. 
 
 "I heard the firing and have been so anxious. I 
 hoped that you would come," said Carissa, who was 
 evidently a little unstrung. 
 
 "It was nothing. A row between some drunken sol- 
 diers and townsmen," he said. "It's all over now, 
 and everything has quieted down. I thought that you 
 might wonder. It is so good of you to see me." 
 
 "I know it is imprudent," she said, "but everything 
 alarms me. I keep thinking that something will hap- 
 pen to make flight impossible." 
 
 Osborne wondered what she would say if she knew 
 the full truth of the afternoon's doings. 
 
 "No, nothing shall prevent that, except death. Now 
 I know you are all right I won't stay. See, the moon 
 is rising. But may I write to you, and will you 
 answer? That crooked tree where we stood the other 
 night can be our post-box. One of its limbs is twisted 
 
 332 
 
CHRISTMAS DOIXGS 
 
 almost double. I must know that 1 can hear from 
 you. I will come only when it is dark." 
 
 She hesitated a moment and then replied: "Yes, I 
 will do it, but oh! be careful." 
 
 As Osborne returned to the camp he felt a strange 
 elation. He asked himself why, but the only answer 
 he could reach was that Carissa seemed now to want 
 to live. 
 
 333 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 It was not long before even Brigham and his coun- 
 sellors began to weary of their guests. Their policy 
 had thus far proved successful. A petition to Presi- 
 dent Pierce, requesting the reappointment of Governor 
 Young, had been signed by Judge Kinney, Colonel 
 Steptoe, and forty-one other representatives of the 
 judiciary and military, as well as the merchants doing 
 business in the city. This petition set forth that 
 "Governor Brigham Young possesses the entire con- 
 fidence of the people of this territory without dis- 
 tinction of party or sect," that he is "a firm supporter 
 of the Constitution and laws of the United States and 
 a tried pillar of Republican institutions," and enumer- 
 ated many other reasons for considering him a? 
 "decidedly the most suitable person that can be 
 selected for that office." 
 
 As soon as this petition was granted and Brigham 
 felt himself secure in his position as governor, he 
 began to modify his attitude. He was willing once 
 more to listen to Brand, Carson, and others who 
 brought lurid accounts of the licentious doings of the 
 soldiers, and who made specific charges against the 
 officers of debauchery and seduction. About the mid- 
 dle of February, Counsellors Grant and Kimball 
 publicly denounced these doings at a meeting in the 
 tabernacle, and on the following Sunday Brigham 
 gave unqualified endorsement to their position. The 
 
 334 
 
QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 trial of several Indians of the Parvante tribe, for the 
 murder of Captain Gunnison, did much to increase the 
 mutual feeling of antagonism that was rapidly 
 developing. 
 
 From various sources it was ascertained that Lieu- 
 tenant Gunnison, recently raised to the rank of cap- 
 tain of United States topographical engineers, was 
 foully murdered on the Sevier River, in Utah Territory, 
 in the fall of 1853, with eight others, one of whom 
 was a Mormon. 
 
 The matter was investigated by Judge Kinney and 
 later by Judge Drummond. The evidence marked the 
 crime as a peculiarly atrocious one, and implicated 
 several Mormons, also Eneis, a favorite warrior of 
 Brigham, said to be his property and acting under his 
 orders, as well as about twenty-five members of the 
 Parvante tribe. 
 
 Indian witnesses testified that only four shots were 
 fired by the Indians, all the rest being fired by Mor- 
 mons, and that in crossing the river to scalp and muti- 
 late the bodies of the men, they received positive 
 instruction from their Mormon allies to save if possi- 
 ble the Mormon who fell in the fight, and who might 
 be distinguished from the Americans by certain 
 peculiar marks on the garment which he wore next to 
 his body. Judge Drummond declared that "the evi- 
 dence against Eneis was clear and conclusive, and no 
 rebutting evidence," and that it was clearly proved 
 that "Eneis cut Captain Gunnison's body open, and 
 cook out his heart while he was yet alive and the heart 
 so full of blood that it bounded on the ground after 
 being taken out; and was not content with this but cut 
 out his tongue, and otherwise cut and mangled the 
 
 335 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 body." In spite of all this evidence, and in spite of 
 the clear and forceful charges of the judges, each Mor- 
 mon jury before whom the case was tried, brought in a 
 verdict of not guilty, as against the white men impli- 
 cated and the able-bodied warriors; and the jury of 
 Judge Kinney's court brought in a verdict of man- 
 slaughter against "three old, crippled and half-blind 
 Indians, who were sentenced to three years' imprison- 
 ment, but who were soon permitted to escape." 
 
 Judge Kinney was so mortified by this fearful mis- 
 carriage of justice, that he immediately adjourned the 
 court and declared that there was false dealing some- 
 where. 
 
 "In fact," said Judge Drummond, "not only he, but 
 Colonel Steptoe, General Holman, the government 
 attorney, Hon. Garland Hurt, the Indian agent of the 
 Territory, Captain James B. Leach, the mail con- 
 tractor between San Diego and Salt Lake City, and 
 Columbus L. Craig, all of whom were cognizant of the 
 influences brought to bear upon the trial, arrived irre- 
 sistibly at the conclusion that the Indians were found 
 not guilty by order of the 'church,' and that Dimick 
 B. Huntington, an Indian interpreter and spiritual 
 brother-in-law of Gov. Brigham Young, was the man 
 who bore the decree and order of the 'church' to the 
 jury, who implicitly found the verdicts according to 
 the mandates of the 'church'; as is now the universal 
 rule and order of jury trials in the peaceful valley of 
 the mountains." 
 
 Captain Ingalls, Lieutenant Maury and Osborne 
 were discussing the matter on the evening of the trial. 
 
 "Such proceedings ought to damn any organization 
 to the lowest hell!" exclaimed Ingalls. "If the church 
 
 336 
 
QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 could acquit itself of complicity with that fiendish 
 murder, yet it must stand guilty for all time of stretch- 
 ing forth its hand to protect and shield the murderers." 
 
 "You forget that Captain Gunnison was so impious 
 as to lift his voice against the anointed of the Lord, 
 and that it was the vengeance of the Most High that 
 overtook him," said iMaury, with bitter mockery. 
 
 "But how had Captain Gunnison offended them so 
 fatally?" asked Ingalls. "Did he pay attention to 
 their women and show common politeness to their 
 girls?" 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't that." replied Maury. "He wrote a 
 book in which he handled the Mormon question with 
 very light gloves on. He spoke kindly of the people, 
 it is true, and pointed out the folly of a policy of per- 
 secution, as tending to make them stronger in the 
 faith; but he drove his pen mercilessly to the very 
 vitals of this precious system; he dared to attack the 
 doctrine of polygamy, and made a plea to young Utah 
 to arise and assert its manhood." 
 
 "It is a fearful thing," exclaimed Osborne, "that 
 these men, violent, unscrupulous, vulgar, and capable 
 of apologizing for such inhuman acts, should neverthe- 
 less be looked up to by such multitudes of deluded 
 followers, as their only spiritual guides. It is no won- 
 der that the people become brutalized." 
 
 As the time approached for their departure, Osborne 
 was perfecting his plans for the escape of Carissa. He 
 had not seen her since Christmas night, and yielding 
 to Maury's appeals had carefully avoided any possible 
 encounter with Brand. But he had received several 
 notes from her, and had been cheered by their hopeful 
 tone. 
 
 337 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 He had succeeded in arousing Colonel Steptoe's 
 enthusiastic interest in the affair, and the plan adopted 
 seemed to promise success. The detachment was 
 divided, the larger portion with the heavy wagons and 
 supplies going in advance to Rush Valley, and thence 
 by the southern route by forced marches to California. 
 Colonel Steptoe and a portion of his staff, among 
 them being Osborne and Maury, equipped for fast 
 traveling, remained in the city. It was generally 
 understood that they were to join the larger company 
 on the march, although the actual intention was to 
 proceed by Haw's Ranch and the northern route, and 
 for the two parties to come together on the other side 
 of the Great Desert 
 
 One evening in May, when the arrangements were 
 nearly completed, Osborne entrusted the following mes- 
 sage to the hiding place, which he thought had safely 
 concealed so many of his own and Carissa's letters: 
 
 "Be ready to start at a moment's notice, in a day 
 or two. We shall probably start soon after dark." 
 
 Osborne believed that all his trips to the grove 
 during the past few months had been unobserved, but 
 therein he was mistaken. 
 
 His visits had all been carefully noted. One night 
 Quibble came across him accidentally, and was 
 induced by curiosity to follow him. He saw him 
 enter the grove of pear trees, look cautiously around, 
 and then go to a certain tree, where he lingered a 
 moment, and then, with a long look toward the house, 
 took his departure. It was a mystery that he could 
 not fathom even by examining the tree, but that only 
 whetted his curiosity the more. He began to watch, 
 and several times his patience was rewarded, and he 
 
 338 
 
QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 saw Osborne perform the same meaningless panto- 
 mime. One night he determined to solve the mystery, 
 and after a long and patient search in the darkness 
 discovered the clever hiding place, and extracted a 
 small piece of thin paper closely folded and covered 
 with written words. 
 
 Delighted with his success he carried his find up 
 on to the hills, kindled a fire and by its light labori- 
 ously spelled through the contents. It was enough to 
 convince him that a regular correspondence was car- 
 ried on between Osborne and Mrs. Brand. 
 
 The thought tickled him. His hatred for Brand had 
 lost none of its virulence. It was with malicious satis- 
 faction that he restored the note to its place, and 
 determined to silently watch the drama to its tragic 
 end. For that the end would be tragic, Quibble did 
 not doubt for an instant. 
 
 Osborne little thought that he was shadowed every 
 time he entered the Brand pear orchard, and that his 
 letters were read by another pair of eyes before they 
 reached Carissa's. 
 
 Quibble did not betray him. He had no inclination 
 to do so, and the vivid memory of Brand's violence on 
 a former occasion would alone have deterred him. 
 But there came a time when he discovered something 
 that did not suit him. He was lying on the hill-side, 
 holding a paper so that the fire-light would fall full 
 upon it, while he devoured its contents. 
 
 Suddenly he leaped to his feet, exclaiming, half 
 audibly, "So that's the game, is it? That will never 
 do. With her gone, he'll be with Maggie all the time 
 and altogether." He sat down and began to consider. 
 
 "I'll have to interfere somehow," he said presently. 
 
 339 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 His success in spying upon Osborne had increased 
 his confidence in his own cleverness, and he began to 
 wonder if he could not make serious mischief for 
 Brand, by forcing things a little. 
 
 He took no decisive step, however, until after read- 
 ing Osborne's last note, when he discovered that time 
 was pressing. He had already outlined his plan, and 
 considered it a clever bit of contrivance. He would 
 bring the two men together. Osborne should be 
 warned as well as Brand. Of course there would be 
 a fight, and he hoped that Brand would get the worst 
 of it. During the next day he picked up the informa- 
 tion that they would be all ready to start by that even- 
 ing. He was unwilling to see Brand personally, or to 
 appear to be mixing in the affair, so he scrawled a 
 letter and sent it to Elder Carson. 
 
 ' ' Von had better warn Brother Brand that his number one 
 is receiving callers these ?iights, and he had better be o?i the 
 watch if he wants to know who. Hell be there a little after 
 stmdozim to?iight. ' ' 
 
 "That'll get him there, I reckon," he said to him- 
 self, as he despatched the note by a boy. He then 
 went in search of Osborne, to warn him that Brand 
 was on the lookout for him. He met him on the 
 stairs, and stopped him. 
 
 "Say, can't I go with you to California?" he asked, 
 in order to introduce the subject. 
 
 "Why do you want to go?" asked Osborne, looking 
 at him curiously. 
 
 "I've had enough of this country," he replied, 
 dropping his eyes. "You start to-night, don't you?" 
 
 "No, to-morrow afternoon, if we can get ready," 
 answered Osborne. 
 
 340 
 
QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 "To-morrow!" Quibble looked up aghast; the 
 thought flashed across him that he had sent his note 
 prematurely 
 
 "Why? What have you been doing? Have you 
 gotten into some scrape here that you're so anxious to 
 get away?" 
 
 "No, not that," stammered Quibble, "but if you 
 don't go till to-morrow, can I see you in the morning?" 
 
 "It's no possible use," said Osborne, decidedly. "I 
 know the colonel won't take you." 
 
 Still Quibble lingered and hesitated. Osborne dis- 
 liked to dismiss him abruptly. He thought he was 
 probably in some trouble, and, although he was not a 
 figure to command much respect, he nevertheless felt a 
 certain pity for him. 
 
 "I'm sorry, my man, but you can probably find some 
 other way." 
 
 "It ain't that," began Quibble. "It's something 
 about yourself. I'm at Brother Brand's a good deal, 
 and I know that he's heard something about your visits 
 lately to his wife." 
 
 Osborne was terribly startled and drew back. 
 
 "How long since?" he asked, hurriedly. 
 
 "Last night he spoke about it. He declared he was 
 going to be on his guard, and catch the fellow in the 
 act," said Quibble. 
 
 "Come up stairs here, quick!" 
 
 Osborne led him to his room and closed the door. 
 Maury was cleaning his rifle, the inevitable pipe in his 
 mouth, which he removed as he noticed Osborne's 
 excitement, and then let his gaze rest upon their visitor. 
 
 Quibble was fumbling his hat nervously, and yet 
 with an air of importance evident in his manner. 
 
 341 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Now tell me all you know about this," demanded 
 Osborne. 
 
 "I've told you everything. He's known for a long 
 time that you have had something to do with her." 
 
 "What's up?" asked Maury. 
 
 "Tell this gentleman what you told me," said 
 Osborne. 
 
 Quibble did so with great exactness, and then added 
 with vehement sincerity: "I hate him. He stole my 
 girl from me, and pretended to marry her. I'd like to 
 see him done up good." 
 
 "You say that he is going to be on the watch?" 
 questioned Maury. 
 
 "Yes, to-night and to-morrow night, and until you 
 have gone for good; and you'd better look out for an 
 ambush after you've started, for he's declared he'll 
 kill you." 
 
 Quibble was drawing upon his imagination, but he 
 had a point to gain, and in his last statement came 
 unwittingly very near the truth Brand supposed the 
 party would go by the southern route to join the 
 detachment that had already started, and he had made 
 full preparations to waylay them, kill Osborne at least, 
 and if necessary the whole party, and charge the crime 
 upon the Indians. 
 
 After Quibble had apparently told all that he knew, 
 and had taken his departure, Maury relit his pipe and 
 said: "Well, I suppose this will not induce you to 
 give the matter up?" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "It makes it a deuced sight more difficult, though. 
 I don't see but what you'll have to shoot him, or get 
 shot yourself." 
 
 342 
 
QUIBBLE'S DIPLOMACY 
 
 Osborne was absorbed in thought. Finally he said: 
 "I don't want to kill him. If she should ever know it, 
 it would be a dark blot on all her future. She could 
 never be happy again. I know her better than you do. 
 No. There is only one way that I can see. He knows 
 nothing of our plan to take her off, and will not be on 
 guard against it. You must be ready to take charge of 
 her. I will go in advance, show myself and draw him 
 away from the house. The way will then be clear for 
 you to take her. If I get away I can join you. If not, 
 you'll have to get her out of this devilish place and 
 guard her to my home." 
 
 "Do you think that I'm going to consent to that?" 
 exclaimed ]Maury. "You won't have one chance out 
 of a hundred. I'm not so squeamish as you are; give 
 me a chance and I'll bring him down fast enough." 
 
 "I have thought it all over," said Osborne, "and I 
 don't think you can suggest a better plan. The dark- 
 ness, and the fact that I shall be on my guard, will all 
 be in my favor. I will have my horse ready, saddled 
 and bridled, and if you are quick the whole thing can 
 be done and no blood shed." 
 
 Maury continued to demur on account of the risk, 
 but Osborne was determined. Several other plans 
 were suggested by Maury, but Osborne held to his own. 
 
 "Well, we'll see how it looks to-morrow," said 
 Maury, finally. "We'll need three or four good men 
 anyhow." 
 
 Osborne named three from his own company, who 
 seemed to possess the necessary qualifications, and the 
 affair rested. 
 
 343 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 CARISSA'S DEPARTURE 
 
 Elder Carson had made no delay in conveying Quib- 
 ble's warning to Brand, although he strove to minimize 
 its importance in the telling. 
 
 "There's probably nothing seriously wrong, but you 
 might as well look into it." 
 
 Brand, however, furiously declared his belief in the 
 worst. It seemed to give him pleasure to believe that 
 Carissa had done wrong. 
 
 "I'm thinking, Brother Brand, you're not quite 
 yourself; anger is a poor substitute for reason." 
 
 "But what else can you make of that?" demanded 
 Brand, pointing to the note with a quivering finger. 
 
 "She may have been imprudent; and again it may 
 all be a lie. You know your wife too well to believe 
 that she's really guilty." 
 
 Carson had thought the matter over before coming. 
 He had a certain liking for Carissa, and knew of 
 Brand's irascible state. He blamed himself somewhat 
 for stirring his jealousy into a flame on a former occa- 
 sion. Besides, he had a purpose of his own to 
 serve. 
 
 "See here! I don't want to dictate, or to seem to 
 interfere. But I think you ought to take her away to 
 some more secluded place. Another thing; why don't 
 you combine your households? There's always trouble 
 when plural wives live apart. Of course they will use 
 their liberty. If they are together you can guard 
 them better, and they will watch each other." 
 
 344 
 
CARISSA'S DEPARTURE 
 
 This appeal to reason calmed Brand somewhat. In 
 spite of his hatred against Osborne, it was difficult for 
 him to calmly adjudge Carissa guilty. He was some- 
 how inclined to harken to Carson's suggestions. 
 
 "If I make a change it ought to be immediately," 
 he said. 
 
 His determination was fixed that nothing should 
 interfere with his deadly vengeance upon Osborne, and 
 he did not know how long he would be delayed. 
 
 "I understand that you have recently laid claim to 
 some grazing land in Cache Valley," suggested Car- 
 son. "I am going up there to-night. Why not take 
 your whole family and go with me? I will furnish you 
 with a wagon. You can soon gather camping outfit 
 and supplies." 
 
 Brand was immediately struck with the suggestion. 
 He might send the women folk, including Maggie, 
 and that would leave him free. 
 
 "I have thought of the place as a fine location for a 
 settlement," he replied; "but at present there's not a 
 white man there, and it's rather open to the Indians." 
 
 "We don't need to winter there until there are more 
 of us. W^e will have to protect the cattle anyhow, and 
 the women and children will be perfectly safe." 
 
 "Do you have to go to-night?" Brand asked. 
 
 "Yes. But I have furnishings enough for all till 
 your teams can join us." 
 
 Brand considered the matter only a few moments. 
 The plan had fully commended itself to him at 
 once. 
 
 "Will you take the responsibility of their care for a 
 time, and let me come later? I have some business to 
 attend to." Brand put the question abruptly. 
 
 345 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Certainly. They will be company for my women, 
 and will make a merry party." 
 
 "That's settled, then. What time do you start?" 
 
 "A little before sunrise." 
 
 Brand felt relieved by his sudden decision. There 
 was still hope in his heart that Carissa might become 
 reasonable; and this move seemed to promise as well 
 as anything he could think of. It even occurred to 
 him that, if he could be assured of Carissa's submis- 
 sion, he might forego his revenge upon Osborne. 
 
 Carissa started violently when he entered the room 
 where she was sitting. He had called but seldom of 
 late, and it had been many weeks since he had seemed 
 to regard this place as his home. 
 
 He greeted her courteously, though with a certain 
 gloomy restraint. It was time for the lighting of 
 candles; and as she made no move, he went to a small 
 closet, took them out and lighted them himself. He 
 had already seen Maggie, informed her of his wishes, 
 and had left her engaged in packing the necessary 
 articles. He now seated himself and prepared to open 
 the matter to Carissa. He anticipated no opposition, 
 but was embarrassed by her silence. 
 
 "Our life here has not been very happy, has it.f' 
 And I don't suppose that you will feel very much 
 regret at leaving! Shall you?" 
 
 The blood left her face immediately. Her eyes 
 were startled into an expression of sudden fear. Had 
 he discovered her purpose? 
 
 "What do you mean?" she inquired. Her voice was 
 weak and faltering. Her lips seemed reluctant to per- 
 form their office. 
 
 Brand watched her wonderingly. Suddenly a 
 
 346 
 
CARISSA'S DEPARTURE 
 
 thought flashed through him. The note Carson had 
 brought! The departure of the soldiers! Carissa's 
 strange behavior; all were brought into startling asso- 
 ciation. He rejected it instantly as impossible. Nev- 
 ertheless he rose and entered his wife's bedroom. 
 Everything betokened the usual order. He was about 
 to return when he noticed the closet door and was led 
 to open it. A bundle securely tied reposed in one 
 corner. It was but the work of an instant to break it 
 open. He found that it contained an assortment of 
 boy's clothing, and a few necessary toilet articles. He 
 stepped to the crib. Moroni was asleep, but he had 
 kicked off the covers sufficiently to show that he 
 had been put to bed with his clothes on. Another 
 glance revealed the fact that the pictures of Caris- 
 sa's father and mother were not in their accustomed 
 places. 
 
 He returned and quietly took his former seat. He 
 had been absent only a minute or two, but the time 
 had seemed like an eternity to Carissa, as she had vainly 
 struggled for composure. It was of no use, she felt 
 herself giving way; she could stand his questioning 
 gaze no longer. She dropped her arms upon the table 
 and her head upon her arms, and burst into a passion 
 of weeping. 
 
 "So you thought that you would leave me, did you? 
 When were you to start?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Believe me I can plan better for you than that." 
 He had assumed a tone of mocking courtesy. 
 
 He went to the inner door and called, "mother." 
 When Mrs. Brand appeared, he said to her: "We are 
 all going into the country to spend the summer. We 
 
 347 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 start to-night. My wife is unable to finish her pack- 
 ing, and you will please do it for her. Get your own 
 things ready also. We will leave the furniture for 
 some other time." 
 
 "La, we can't be ready to start to-night," objected 
 the old woman, querulously. 
 
 "You must. We will take what you do get ready 
 and leave the rest." His manner was decided. When 
 he turned around Carissa's sobs had ceased, and she 
 was looking at him appealingly. She raised her hands 
 to him in a despairing gesture. 
 
 "Oh, won't you have mercy and let me leave you? 
 This life is killing me!" 
 
 "Stop such hysterical nonsense," he commanded, 
 furiously. His self-control was giving way, but he 
 made an effort to retain it. "If you have anything 
 you want to take with you that is not already packed 
 you had better get it ready," he added. 
 
 She arose with an effort, went to her room, closed 
 the door behind her and dropped upon her knees 
 beside the bed. 
 
 Why had she been so foolish as to indulge any 
 hope? Wild dreams of resistance, of immediate flight, 
 even of self-destruction, came to her; but these soon 
 congealed into a mood of hard, bitter, hopeless sub- 
 mission to the inevitable. She made no move to put 
 her personal effects together. She simply waited, 
 through the interminable hours. When Brand at last 
 roughly announced that the wagon had come, she 
 obeyed his command to put on her warm wrap and 
 mounted to her seat without assistance. Everything 
 was soon loaded. Last of all. Brand lifted Moroni to 
 his place, and for the first time that night his heart 
 
 348 
 
CARISSA'S DEPARTURE 
 
 smote him as he observed how mechanically Carissa 
 received her boy. But he only knit his brows and set 
 his lips more firmly together. 
 
 They stopped for Maggie, who appeared fresh and 
 laughing; and were well on their way by sunrise. The 
 other wagons had already started, but they expected 
 to overtake them during the day and to camp together 
 in one party. 
 
 It was not a very merry company, though Carson 
 and Maggie chatted together gaily enough. Carissa 
 was overwhelmed with her terrible disappointment. 
 She knew now how intense had been her desire to 
 escape. Even the presence of Moroni failed to lighten 
 the dreary prospect that was before her. 
 
 Lieutenant Osborne would be compelled to leave 
 with the troops. He would know nothing of the dis- 
 covery of their plans. She pictured him coming to 
 the vacant house. She saw his bewildered look of dis- 
 appointment. Why had she not made an effort to put 
 a note of explanation in the hiding place? She had 
 been too stunned to think of it. When he was gone, 
 her one hope of escape would have departed. What 
 should she do? It seemed impossible that she could 
 continue to live out her life in dreary, hopeless rebel- 
 lion against the inevitable. She looked at Maggie, 
 and envied her the disposition that could accept 
 lightly what was to her a brand of infamy. She 
 thought of her husband, and a feeling of utter loathing 
 was in her heart. He was her master, and she hated 
 him for the mastery he exercised so ruthlessly, because 
 of her passion for her boy. 
 
 As they traveled slowly on past rude farmhouses 
 and through straggling settlements, the burden of her 
 
 349 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 thoughts became too heavy to be borne and she closed 
 her eyes in pitiful surrender to hopeless apathy. 
 
 She was aroused at length by Maggie saying to her: 
 "We are going to have our lunch. Won't you eat 
 something, dear? You look so faint and tired." 
 
 She shook her head and rejected the proffered cake. 
 
 "It's dood, mamma. Ain't you hungry?" urged 
 Moroni, who had been lifted to the front seat by Car- 
 son, and was delighted to hold the lines and drive. 
 
 "No, dear," she forced herself to answer, "but you 
 eat all you want." 
 
 Brand had been in the saddle all day, riding ahead 
 of the wagon in moody silence. He now drew rein 
 and waited for them. 
 
 "I leave you here," he said to Carson abruptly. 
 "The other wagons are just ahead. I don't know 
 when I shall join you. There's a little business to be 
 attended to first, back there." 
 
 There was an odd menace in his speech, and it was 
 accompanied by a lowering glance at Carissa. 
 
 She had thought there was nothing more to fear, but 
 his look and tone caused her heart to leap again in 
 sudden terror. She interpreted both unerringly, and 
 she watched him with a gathering look of horror as he 
 raised his hat and turned his horse back along the road 
 they had traveled. 
 
 "Stop!" She suddenly cried out. He reined in his 
 horse and looked back at her. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" 
 
 He continued looking at her steadily a moment, the 
 sombre light of wicked triumph stealing over his face. 
 
 "Nothing that ought to concern you deeply," he 
 replied, very deliberately "I am expecting a visitor 
 
 350 
 
CARISSA'S DEPARTURE 
 
 to-night back at the house we have left, and I want to 
 see that he is received properly. That is all." 
 
 He waited, a sneering smile upon his lips, while the 
 color faded from her face and the affrighted look 
 deepened in her eyes, and then, with an oath, he put 
 spurs to his horse and rode rapidly away. 
 
 Scarcely had the sound of clattering hoofs died 
 away when Carissa plucked Carson by the sleeve. 
 
 "You must not let him go. Call to him quick." 
 The words came from dry lips that trembled with 
 feverish impatience. 
 
 Carson leaned over the wheel and looked after 
 Brand's retreating figure. 
 
 "He's too far," he said, "besides it's of no use, he's 
 made up his mind." 
 
 "Then you must take me back also," exclaimed 
 Carissa, excitedly. "Turn the horses around; I must 
 
 go." 
 
 "It can't be done. Sister Brand, we've come a long 
 ways and the critters are tired. We just couldn't 
 reach there to-night, and Brother Brand would be 
 furious with me." 
 
 As he spoke he touched the horses with the whip, 
 and the heavy wagon began to move forward again. 
 
 "Stop. I must get out and go back," cried Carissa, 
 rising to her feet; but as Carson only glanced from her 
 to i\Iaggie with a look of puzzled amazement, she 
 clasped her hands together and moaned, "Oh, you do 
 not know what it means." 
 
 Maggie did not know all her trouble, but she 
 guessed some of it. She had never lost her kindly 
 feeling for Carissa, whom she regarded as her superior, 
 and now she yielded to the maternal instinct for pro- 
 
 351 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 tection. She quickly climbed from the front to the 
 back seat, and impulsively put her arms about Carissa. 
 
 "We can't go back, dear, but don't carry on so and 
 grieve yourself. Mr. Brand will come back all right. 
 The soldiers have all gone by this time, and they're 
 the only ones he's angered at." 
 
 "But the troops were not to leave till to-morrow," 
 exclaimed Carissa, struggling with her fears. 
 
 But Maggie was not to be thwarted in her purpose 
 to comfort by any absurd notion of sticking to the 
 truth; especially when she knew there was no one 
 there to contradict her. 
 
 "But they changed their plans, dear; Jock Quibble 
 told me last night; and they were all to leave by noon 
 to-day. I could have told Brother Brand, but 1 knew 
 that he would need to bring the furniture anyway. 
 There, dear, don't cry or worry, just put your head 
 down on my arm and get some rest." 
 
 When Brand reached the city he soon satisfied him- 
 self that Osborne was ignorant of the day's happenings, 
 and would not leave until that night; he, therefore, 
 spent the day in the deserted house where he had first 
 brought his wife; brooding over the past and supply- 
 ing fresh fuel to the ever-burning fire of his evil 
 passions. 
 
 352 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 OSBORNE'S DEPARTURE 
 
 The following day passed slowly for Osborne, who 
 was in a fever of impatience for the time of action to 
 arrive; he slept but little the night before, and in the 
 morning felt that he had made a mistake in not com- 
 municating with Carissa, no matter what the risk, con- 
 cerning his plans. 
 
 Colonel Steptoe's preparations for departure were 
 completed by noon. A few calls of ceremony had to 
 be made. It was given out that they would not begin 
 the journey till daylight the following morning, but 
 everything was in readiness at a convenient camping 
 place just outside the city, with the small detachment 
 of soldiers on guard. 
 
 Colonel Steptoe, Captain Ingalls, Lieutenant Maury 
 and Osborne were invited to take a farewell supper 
 with Judge Kinney. District Attorney Holman was 
 present and a few other prominent Gentile officials. 
 The conversation naturally turned upon the political 
 situation. 
 
 "Say what you will," declared the judge emphatic- 
 ally, "this community is bound to play a most impor- 
 tant part in the history of the West. Immigration the 
 last two or three years has been greater than ever 
 before. The people that come may be ignorant and 
 fanatical in a way, but they are industrious and 
 patient. See how they have branched out already. 
 There are thriving settlements to the south of us. and 
 
 353 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 to the north as well. The time is not far distant when 
 every tillable valley in this region will be swarming 
 with settlers, and they will soon begin to carry out 
 their design of establishing a chain of Mormon settle- 
 ments from here to California. They have shown 
 their power to control their people, and according to 
 their own standards they are chaste and virtuous, and 
 good citizens. Of course, their system seems wrong to 
 us, but if we believed in its righteousness as they do, 
 we should think it the right thing." 
 
 "But do you think their leaders — President Young 
 and his counsellors, for example — are sincere in their 
 belief?" asked Maury. 
 
 'Yes, I do. They are not very spiritual; but the 
 belief they hold is not spiritual either, so there is no 
 inconsistency. They are coarse, domineering and 
 masterful; but their highest religious ambition is to 
 attain to unlimited dominion, and lord it over unlim- 
 ited multitudes." 
 
 "But how about their acts of violence, their practice 
 of deceit to win converts, their interference with civil 
 courts of justice and the like?" persisted Maury. 
 
 "Their descendants will tell you that they were no 
 worse than the mother of all the Christian churches," 
 answered the judge, with a laugh. "Their record will 
 compare favorably with the Catholic Inquisition, the 
 methods of the Jesuits, the diplomacy of Rome, and 
 even with much in the history of Protestantism itself. 
 When civilization pushes its way over the Rocky 
 Mountains, and these people are compelled to yield 
 to its educating, humanizing processes, most of these 
 features will be gradually modified and finally elim- 
 inated." 
 
 354 
 
OSBORNE'S DEPARTURE 
 
 "I am afraid that will be too long a time for some 
 of us to wait, eh, Osborne?" Maury wanted to 
 arouse his friend from his fit of abstraction. 
 
 "I think this system is simply an abomination," said 
 Osborne emphatically. "I don't believe in persecu- 
 tion, but I certainly think that the strong arm of the 
 national government should so firmly establish the 
 civil law in this region that the poor, deluded, help- 
 less victims of a merciless priesthood could claim 
 some protection." 
 
 "That will come in time; and the time will come 
 when the people themselves will welcome it," 
 declared the judge. 
 
 "His Honor is in a prophetic mood to-night," 
 laughed Holman. "A transcontinental railroad will 
 need to be built first, and that will not be done this 
 century." 
 
 "On the contrary, we shall both live to see it. I 
 will pledge my reputation as a prophet on that." 
 
 The time at length arrived for the party to break 
 up. Colonel Steptoe declined the offers made by 
 several to accompany them to camp, and they were 
 soon in saddle. 
 
 After proceeding a short distance the colonel drew 
 rein and said gravely: "I don't know that I have done 
 right to consent to this thing. It may get us into seri- 
 ous difficulty, but you have my word, and I don't go 
 back on it. In about an hour you can get to work. 
 Be careful about making a disturbance and arousing 
 the town. I will start forward with the men and you 
 can join us on the Grantsville road." 
 
 After Colonel Steptoe's departure, Osborne and 
 Maury rode around by a side street, and picked up the 
 
 355 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 men who were waiting, and lost no time in muffling 
 their horses' feet. 
 
 When all was in readiness, Osborne said to Maury: 
 "Of course we know that the affair is more serious 
 than the colonel thinks. But if anything happens, 
 you'll send word home, and all that, and do as I have 
 asked you?" The two men clasped hands in silence. 
 
 The night was calm and clear. After separating 
 from his companions, Osborne rode to the east, and 
 circling around, picketed his horse securely on the 
 slope beyond the town, about five hundred yards from 
 the residence of the Brands. He waited long enough 
 for Maury to have time to approach the grove of pear 
 trees, where he was to take his position, and then he 
 walked toward the house. 
 
 He had often noticed the peculiar silence of this 
 valley. There were no large trees to catch the sighing 
 of the wind, and to-night this silence seemed ominous 
 and oppressive. The city just below him had gone to 
 sleep. Not a sound broke the stillness of the early 
 summer night, except the low murmur of the hurrying 
 water in the shallow ditch at his feet. Every sense 
 was on the alert and strained to the utmost as he 
 neared the place. 
 
 Was it possible, he wondered, that he had been mis- 
 informed and that no watch was being kept? Had 
 Brand heard of their departure, and set himself to fol- 
 low or intercept them, in accordance with his threats? 
 The house seemed preternaturally silent and dead. 
 
 He did not pause or hesitate, but turned the corner 
 and once more approached the window of Carissa's 
 sitting-room. He was now in full view from the place 
 where Maury and the men were concealed. 
 
 356 
 
OSBORNE'S DEPARTURE 
 
 Suddenly he started forward; a handkerchief was 
 lying partly outside the window and imprisoned by 
 the sash. It was the old signal; every apprehension 
 vanished. Providence had favored them. She was 
 within and waiting. But there was no time to be lost; 
 he sounded a whistle for Maury, and stepping forward. 
 tapped gently on the window pane. 
 
 A feeling of eager expectation thrilled him as he 
 saw the window slowly rising. 
 
 Suddenly it was thrown to its full height violently. 
 An arm and body were thrust forth. It was Brand. 
 He held a pistol in his hand. 
 
 "So you've come," he cried fiercely. "Well, take 
 your greeting!" 
 
 Osborne sprang forward to seize the weapon, but he 
 was too late. He felt a stunning blow on his chest, 
 followed by a sharp pain and a ringing sensation in 
 his ears. There was a rush behind him. and he knew 
 no more. 
 
 Maury had been able to follow his comrade's move- 
 ments from the time he entered the enclosure. His 
 rifle was in instant readiness, his hawklike gaze search- 
 ing every shadow. In his eagerness he had crept 
 beyond the shadow of the orchard when Osborne 
 approached the window. He, too, began to think that 
 possibly no watch was kept. He heard the whistle 
 and turned to signal to the men. At that moment 
 Brand's low-voiced menace broke as a terrible shock 
 upon his ear. He leaped forward as the shot was 
 fired, and Osborne reeled backward. 
 
 Brand saw him coming, but was not able to recover 
 himself till a fierce blow from Maury's rifle stock fell 
 upon his arm. 
 
 35? 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "Don't let that man escape," cried Maury to the 
 men. "He s dangerous, though his arm is broken." 
 
 But Brand, though suffering intensely, was not dis- 
 abled for flight. "I've finished him," he muttered 
 with a savage oath, "and the rest doesn't matter." 
 
 In a few minutes the men reported that he had 
 escaped, and that the house was entirely deserted. 
 
 Maury was bending over Osborne, who was breath- 
 ing heavily and was even now trying to speak. 
 
 "What is it, old fellow? Where did he hit you?' 
 
 "Don't leave her behind," gasped the wounded 
 man. 
 
 "All right; we'll see to it." Then turning to the 
 men, he said: "Go and search again thoroughly. Be 
 quick, and report all you find." 
 
 He unfastened his friend's outer garments, and 
 ripped open his shirt. The wound was plain enough, 
 even in the dim light, and appeared to be just above 
 the heart. 
 
 "We must get him out of here quick, woman or no 
 woman," thought Maury. 
 
 He gave a low whistle and one of the men appeared. 
 
 "There's no one there, sir." 
 
 "Never mind; get on your horse and ride like the 
 devil after the colonel. Tell him Osborne has been 
 shot, and to come back at once with the surgeon to 
 Judge Kinney's. Quick!" 
 
 In the meanwhile, he had been staunching the 
 wound; close against it he laid Carissa's handkerchief, 
 and bound it as securely as possible. 
 
 The search for any clue to Carissa's whereabouts 
 proving utterly unavailing, a rude litter was con- 
 structed and spread with blankets from the house. 
 
 358 
 
OSBORNE'S DEPARTURE 
 
 Osborne was laid upon it, and the sad procession took 
 up its line of march. 
 
 It was not long before Colonel Steptoe arrived at 
 the Union Hotel, where Osborne was lying. All 
 waited in the greatest suspense for the result of the 
 surgeon's examination. Presently he made a slight 
 incision under the arm and extracted a bullet. 
 
 "It's a close call," he said, "but he'll pull 
 through." 
 
 A consultation was held as to their future course. 
 "It's a deuced bad business," said Colonel Steptoe, 
 who was in evident perplexity. "I hate to leave him 
 here; there's no knowing what mischief he'll get into. 
 Even if he keeps quiet, he'll not be very safe. And 
 he won't keep quiet. As soon as he's well enough, 
 he'll be searching this valley from one end to the 
 other. How soon can he be moved?" 
 
 "In about a week we can take him by easy stages," 
 replied the surgeon. 
 
 "That settles it, then, we must wait." Orders were 
 given for the detachment that had started that night 
 to return to their former quarters. 
 
 Osborne's wound healed rapidly, though he fretted 
 intolerably over the mystery of Carissa's disappear- 
 ance. The men declared that Brand had made his 
 escape alone, using Osborne's horse for the purpose; 
 and in spite of his utmost efforts Maury could discover 
 nothing further of either him or his family. 
 
 In a little over a week Colonel Steptoe again took 
 his departure for the coast, and in spite of his most 
 vigorous remonstrance, Osborne was compelled by 
 orders to accompany him. The formality of an arrest 
 was threatened in order to induce submission. A 
 
 359 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 comfortable couch was made for him in one of the 
 spring wagons, but he endured the journey only 
 because of his settled determination to return again, as 
 soon as he could regain his liberty. 
 
 360 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 IN CACHE VALLEY 
 
 There is no more charming spot in all the habitable 
 portion of the Rocky Mountain region than Cache 
 Valley, in northern Utah. It consists of a sheltered 
 oasis of green, in the midst of a wilderness of piled-up 
 rocks, that lift their craggy summits mountain high on 
 every side. Ordinarily, Carissa would have delighted 
 in all the charms of natural scenery in which the coun- 
 try abounded. The place selected for their camping 
 ground was near the mouth of the beautiful Logan 
 Canyon. They were the only inhabitants of this wide 
 stretch of fertile territory, that was destined in after 
 years to support a score or more of thriving towns and 
 cities. 
 
 But Carissa was in no mood to take note of the 
 beauties of nature. She was in a state of great 
 nervous tension. Her anxious fears concerning 
 Osborne at first drew her thoughts away from her own 
 situation. There was no mistaking the undisguised 
 threat conveyed by Brand's vindictive look and mock- 
 ing words. She was sure of his murderous purpose; 
 but had it succeeded? The more she thought of Mag- 
 gie's words of reassurance the less satisfaction they 
 afforded her. If an earlier start had been determined 
 on, she knew that Osborne would have made an effort 
 to communicate with ner. Finding the house deserted, 
 he would begin an investigation, and she felt con- 
 
 361 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 vinced that he would not leave until he had discovered 
 her whereabouts or had met Brand. 
 
 At the thought of such a meeting and its possible 
 results she trembled. It seemed terrible to her that 
 one who had given her such loyal and chivalrous 
 friendship should, because of that friendship, be called 
 to face peril and possible death. 
 
 During these days of suspense she first began to 
 appreciate the devotion of Osborne at its true worth, 
 and she instinctively pitted him in her thought against 
 the one to whom she had given all her love, but who 
 had betrayed both love and trust so cruelly. 
 
 The little camp presented a scene of busy life. 
 There were three tents; one occupied by the teamsters 
 and herders, who had left their families behind them; 
 one for Carson, his three wives and five small children, 
 and another for Carissa and Maggie. 
 
 The men of the party were occupied in constructing 
 a corral not far away, and in hauling timber for a 
 dwelling house and out-buildings. The women had 
 their own tasks, and at times even assisted in the 
 heavier labor of the men. 
 
 The advantages and disadvantages of polygamous 
 housekeeping on a primitive scale were well illus- 
 trated in the case of Carson's household. He moved 
 among the members of his family with an assumption 
 of patriarchal dignity; divided their labor and 
 assigned them their tasks; composed their differences 
 when he could, and when he could not, left them to 
 come to a settlement by themselves; practiced strict 
 impartiality in the matter of favors bestowed, and was 
 quite undisturbed by the necessary promiscuity of so 
 large a household gathered under one tent. 
 
 362 
 
IX CACHE VALLEY 
 
 Carson was a man of cool temperament and unusual 
 self-command, but even his suavity could not conceal 
 the sordid spectacle of three jealous women in one 
 household, each striving for precedence and seeking 
 to displace the others, and continuing, sometimes 
 openly, sometimes under cover, the strife and dissen- 
 sion that were inevitable, even under most favorable 
 conditions. 
 
 Carissa was repelled by the atmosphere that was 
 created by this sordid condition. She was in a state 
 of isolation from all about her. Her own thoughts 
 gave her no rest, and there was no relief in the society 
 of others. She nervously avoided all contact with the 
 members of Carson's mixed household, and endeav- 
 ored to keep Moroni to herself as much as possible. 
 She had no thought of giving offense; it seemed the 
 only thing that she could do; but in so small and open 
 a community such an attitude, persisted in, must soon 
 alienate the natural sympathy of neighbors and arouse 
 active dislike. 
 
 Carissa soon began to be regarded as too precise and 
 proud, and as putting on airs above her station. At 
 first she was only relieved that she w^as permitted to 
 be alone, and was unconscious of the feeling that was 
 growing up against her. But one day she w-as sharply 
 awakened to the ferment of bitterness that w^as work- 
 ing; in her little world. 
 
 She w^as standing looking off across the valley to the 
 distant barrier of the mountains, thinking of Osborne 
 and her old home, and indulging her intense longing 
 for freedom when she noticed that Moroni had left her 
 side and was making his way toward Carson's tent 
 door. Two of his wives were amiably engaged in 
 
 363 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 washing some blankets, and the third was seated on a 
 rock, holding out her hands to the little fellow and 
 coaxing him to come. 
 
 "Come to mamma, Moroni," Carissa called quickly. 
 They all looked up, and Carissa suddenly felt the pres- 
 ence of their jealous hostility. The woman who had 
 been coaxing him, dropped her arms, rose from the 
 rock, and turning to her companions said, with a 
 laugh, 'The Prince isn't to be handled by common 
 folks; pretty good, isn't it?" 
 
 "Oh, well, she needn't hold herself so high and 
 mighty," was the spiteful rejoinder from one of the 
 others, "when her man returns he'll soon bring her to 
 terms." 
 
 Carissa stood as though stunned, surprise and indig- 
 nation struggling together in her face, and then a 
 thought came that swallowed up everything else. 
 
 When Brand should return! What would she do? 
 All in a moment she became aware of the fact that he 
 stood for all that she most hated and dreaded in her 
 life. And he would surely return. 
 
 She looked toward the little tent occupied by herself 
 and Maggie, with Mrs. Brand and Moroni. When 
 Brand should return, he would expect to occupy it 
 with them. All that that would mean flashed vividly 
 before her. The blood flamed up into her cheeks 
 hotly, and then receded, leaving her deadly pale. She 
 needed no further enlightenment to grasp the situation 
 fully. She knew that she could never endure it. 
 
 The horrors of her condition would be forced upon 
 her hourly; there could be no privacy, no place of 
 retirement, either for herself or her boy. She 
 pictured herself crouching away, seeking to shield 
 
 364 
 
IN CACHE VALLEY 
 
 herself and her innocent child from contact with what 
 she could never meet and continue to live. She could 
 expect no consideration from Brand, even though he 
 should understand her feelings; the vision was over- 
 powering. Every instinct of her nature was in revolt. 
 It was impossible that she could live this life! that 
 she knew. But how could she escape? The vision 
 presented by her sudden thought was so real that her 
 dread was overpowering, and the impulse to fly before 
 it was too late was not to be resisted. 
 
 She felt Moroni's little hand stealing into hers, and 
 without forethought or purpose she gripped it tightly 
 and started to walk rapidly away, up toward the can- 
 yon's mouth. She looked neither behind nor before 
 her, but went steadily onward driven by her desperate 
 thoughts. 
 
 "Mamma, 'ou hurt me," pleaded a little voice. 
 "Forgive me, darling, I did not know." Remorse- 
 fully she stooped and covered his face with passionate 
 kisses, and lifting him in her arms she carried him 
 onward. 
 
 They had already left the camp far behind them, and 
 were climbing recklessly over the rough rocks that 
 lined the course of the brawling stream. 
 
 "Where we doin', mamma?' Moroni asked, bravely 
 suppressing his sobs. 
 
 "I do not know, darling, but God will tell us," she 
 answered, mechanically. 
 
 "Won't we ever do back, mamma?" 
 
 She only held him more closely and hurried on. 
 
 Where was she going? What was her purpose? She 
 
 knew well that there could be nothing at the end of 
 
 such a journey as this. The path was continually 
 
 365 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 growing wilder and more rugged. She was not con- 
 scious of the difficulties of the way or of physical 
 weariness, though her breath was coming in short, 
 panting gasps, and she often reeled as she walked. 
 She was fleeing from the vision that had come to her. 
 She was seeking to leave her life behind her. Pres- 
 ently her steps grew slower. She could not continue 
 this exertion much longer. 
 
 "Mamma, I'z firsty." 
 
 She looked around her; a little stream came bub- 
 bling down from the side of the rugged gorge, and 
 passing under an archway of ferns, leaped into the 
 mountain torrent whose course they had been fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 She set Moroni down and held some water in her 
 hands while he eagerly drank. The icy touch of this 
 water, fresh from the snows, seemed to cool her fever. 
 They had halted in a beautiful spot, sheltered, fresh 
 and cool. The overhanging rocks on either side were 
 festooned with vines. The air was filled with a fresh 
 woodland odor of moist earth and spring flowers. The 
 dashing stream filled the place with a wild music that 
 appealed to her strangely. 
 
 "How beautiful life could be," she thought, as she 
 looked about her in momentary forgetfulness, and then 
 down into Moroni's bright, laughing face. But what 
 could life hold for her? She could not return. A 
 shudder seized her at the thought. Any death would 
 be better than to sink her soul to the level of daily 
 contact with what seemed like pollution. 
 
 "If I should learn to endure it, I should become like 
 them, but I could never learn to endure it. I should 
 go mad." 
 
 366 
 
IN CACHE VALLEY 
 
 She arose and took Moroni's hand. "Come, dear, let 
 us go on. You can walk a little way, darling, and 
 when you are tired I will carry you again." 
 
 She knew where she was going now and what was 
 her purpose. They would commit themselves to God, 
 and follow the stream wherever it led. When their 
 strength should fail and the time should come for them 
 to die, there would be no struggle, they would be in 
 His keeping and all would be well. 
 
 She picked their way more carefully now, but went 
 steadily on. IMoroni was delighted with the excur- 
 sion, and showed his happiness by his merry questions 
 and joyful exclamations. His sturdy legs were not 
 soon w^earied, although the grade was often steep. 
 Carissa carried him part of the way, but her strength 
 was now unequal to bearing the burden long at a 
 time. When evening began to close about them, she 
 knew that they had come a long distance from the 
 canyon's mouth. 
 
 Moroni complained of being hungry, and finally set 
 up a pitiful little cry: "I'z tired, mamma, let us do 
 back." 
 
 "Hush, dear, don't cry. See, here is a nice little 
 place to rest. We will sit down here and I will tell 
 you a story." 
 
 She sought the shelter of a wide arching cleft in the 
 rocky wall, and, taking him in her arms and snuggling 
 him warmly against her, she soon soothed him to 
 slumber. 
 
 How solemn was the gathering night in that far 
 cleft of the mountains. Just before her a huge wall of 
 black rock towered high in threatening majesty. Far 
 down toward the west she could watch the reflection 
 
 367 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 of the setting sun. The air grew suddenly much 
 cooler, and she shivered in her light summer clothing. 
 She began to realize that the night would be much 
 sharper here than down in the valley. She might die 
 of exposure. At the thought a throb of joy filled her 
 heart. The weary waiting for release would soon be 
 over! 
 
 When the sunlight leaves these narrow mountain 
 gorges, the descent of the cold from the snow-packed 
 spaces above is often very sudden. Carissa sat care- 
 less of exposure, listening to the brawling of the 
 stream, exulting in the cold and inviting the biting 
 breath of frost that was wrapping her in. Moroni had 
 fallen asleep and was cuddled up cozily in her arms. 
 As she moved a little her hand touched his cheek. 
 How warm it was against her cold hand! She might 
 die; but her very embrace would keep warmth and life 
 in his body after she was gone. The thought aroused 
 her immediately. What was she doing? They would 
 come and take him from her arms, down again into 
 the valley, to that life she hated so intensely, and 
 would rear him in the faith that had ruined her life. 
 Again a biting breath of cold came down from the 
 upper canyon and assailed her. She suddenly 
 feared it. 
 
 Surely this would mean death to her, for she cer- 
 tainly could not endure the cold and exposure till 
 morning — but Moroni! She remembered that she was 
 holding him too warmly. She must not die first and 
 leave him without her guardianship. She looked up 
 piteously. The stars were coming out one by one, and 
 as they peered down through the narrow opening of 
 rock, they looked strangely large and glowing. Up 
 
 368 
 
.^HE TRIED TO LEAVE HI.M THERE BUT SOMETHING HELD HE 
 
 R. 
 
IN CACHE VALLEY 
 
 there God was watching her — how far away He 
 seemed. What monstrous teaching she had received 
 from the lips of her husband! It returned to her now 
 as a grotesque caricature of the God whom she had 
 learned to love and reverence in her childhood. He 
 was far away, this God in whom her heart believed, 
 yet near at hand. He would understand her heart; 
 He would know her pressing need. 
 
 She could not die first! She could not leave her boy! 
 
 Slowly she arose, her limbs already cramped with 
 the cold. Tenderly she carried her burden to a little 
 distance and deposited it on the bare ground, where 
 the benumbing stroke of the canyon breeze would 
 fall most heavily upon it. 
 
 She was scarcely conscious of what she did; she 
 seepied to be obeying some imperative necessity. She 
 put upon him no covering, she simply laid him down. 
 A sleepy remonstrance at his hard cold bed came from 
 his lips, and then he lay perfectly quiet. One hand 
 was stretched out toward her, and it looked pitifully 
 white and frail against the hard, black rock. 
 
 Again and again she tried to leave him there and 
 return to her former place, but something held her. 
 There was an awful solemnity in the scene around her 
 that oppressed her terribly. 
 
 Her body seemed full of fever, and yet she felt the 
 intensity of the cold. Steadily, but without violence, 
 the wind came down from the upper spaces. How 
 long she stood there she could not tell, it may have 
 been but a few moments, but an eternity seemed to be 
 crowded into them. She must go away and leave 
 him! She could not wait and see him die! And yet 
 that little hand, stretched out upon the cold rock, so 
 
 369 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 pitifully small and white and weak, held her firmly. 
 She half turned away, but her eyes remained fixed 
 upon him. How quietly he lay! He had scarcely 
 moved since she had put him down! She could see 
 him quite well in the dim starlight; she tried to think 
 how long it would take for the cold to do its work; 
 but she could not think. She was listening intently 
 for his breathing. A terrible fear of the results of her 
 own act was growing in her heart. It terrified her that 
 he lay so still before her. Could he be dead already? 
 She turned about quickly, as the wild thought came, 
 and knelt down beside him; she took his hand in her 
 own, it was cold to her feverish touch. Her heart 
 stood still in awful dread, and then she caught him 
 convulsively into her arms. He opened his eyes, 
 frightened at her unthinking roughness, and began to 
 cry out. She held him close and kissed him again and 
 again. 
 
 "Thank God! Thank God! Oh, my darling," she 
 sobbed; he put his arms about her and snuggled close. 
 
 "Put me to bed, mamma; I'z so cold and sleepy, 
 mamma." 
 
 "Yes, darling, we will go back; I cannot do it, it is 
 too cruel. God forgive me and help me to bear it all." 
 
 370 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 MAGGIE'S INTERFERENCE 
 
 Maggie had witnessed the scene that occurred in the 
 camp, and her generous heart was aroused to fierce 
 indignation. She did not know all that it meant to 
 Carissa, but she knew enough to realize that Carissa 
 had been grossly affronted and was sorely wounded. 
 
 She stood before the door of their tent and watched, 
 while Carissa climbed the slope toward the east, hold- 
 ing Moroni tightly by the hand. Her first impulse 
 was to follow them, but she thought: "She'll soon be 
 back, and she wants to be alone now. Poor thing? I 
 wonder why it hurt her so? She usually pays no 
 attention to anything like that." 
 
 Her indignation led her to go straight to the three 
 women, who were laughing and talking over the lesson 
 which they had taught the proud Englishwoman. 
 
 "What did you say to her to make her look like 
 that?" Maggie demanded fiercely. 
 
 "Let her keep her kid to herself if she thinks he's 
 too good for the likes of us, "was the reply from the 
 oldest of the three. "We're tired of her airs, that's 
 all. She's too high and mighty, and I told her so." 
 
 "You needn't toady under and take her part," put 
 in another, mockingly. "You're nothing but dirt to 
 her yourself, and you're a fool if you don't see it." 
 
 "Brother Carson says she's jealous of you, and 
 caught one of those soldier chaps for a beau, so's to 
 get even," said the first speaker, maliciously. "So she 
 
 371 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 needn't pretend she's too good to associate with hon- 
 est folks." 
 
 "It's a lie, I tell you, no matter who says it," 
 declared Maggie, hotly, "and you're nothing but a set 
 of contemptible cowards to pitch onto a poor woman 
 that's better than all of us put together." 
 
 "Why didn't Brother Brand come along out with ye 
 then, if it's all a lie, instead of going back to attend to 
 particular personal business?" sneered the other. 
 
 "You tell if you know," retorted Maggie. She often 
 thought of the scene on the road and wondered what 
 it really meant. So now even her anger gave place a 
 little to her curiosity. 
 
 "He went back, I guess, to square things with the 
 fellow that has been poachin' on his preserves, and 
 that's what she's a-frettin' about. If you don't 
 believe it, ask Brother Carson." 
 
 This answer fitted the case so perfectly and explained 
 so much, that Maggie was almost inclined to believe 
 there was some truth in it, but she only shook her 
 head defiantly, and said: 
 
 "I don't care what she's done, or what Brother 
 Brand thinks she's done. I know she's done nothing 
 but what's right. She's done you no harm anyway, 
 and when she comes back you just let her alone, or 
 I'll know why." 
 
 A derisive laugh greeted this challenge and followed 
 Maggie as she walked away. Perhaps she had done 
 no good, but she had given vent to her feelings at any 
 rate. She was glad that she had openly taken Carissa's 
 part and had flung down the gage in her behalf, and 
 her natural woman's sympathy was still more deeply 
 aroused by the story she had heard. 
 
 372 
 
MAGGIE'S INTERFERENCE 
 
 All through the afternoon she watched for Carissa's 
 return in vain, and about sun-down she became 
 uneasy, and decided to go and meet them. Throwing 
 a shawl over her shoulders she started up the Bench. 
 
 When she reached the top, the view was unob- 
 structed to the canyon's mouth, and as they were 
 nowhere in sight she pushed vigorously onward. A 
 growing sense of wonder, not unmixed with alarm, 
 hurried her steps. She thought they must have taken 
 the way to the canyon, but in that case it would be 
 dark before they could return. When she reached the 
 sharp bend where the stream came leaping wildly 
 down, and still had not met them, she was almost per- 
 suaded that they must have gone in some other 
 direction. 
 
 She stopped and called loudly, but only an empty 
 echo came back to her. Suddenly her eyes caught 
 sight of tiny footprints in the rough road that led 
 upward along the stream. 
 
 "What ever possessed her!" she exclaimed to her- 
 self, but her shrewd mind soon shaped an answer that 
 was not far from the truth. 
 
 "She's unhappy and lonely and desperate. I've seen 
 it, and haven't known what to do, but when I find her 
 I'll let her know that Fm not against her, anyway," 
 she thought. 
 
 The semi-darkness of a star-lit night found her still 
 following the trail, hot and dusty with her quick 
 climb, but determined to overtake the fugitives as 
 soon as possible. She was fully a mile from the mouth 
 of the canyon and could no longer discern their foot- 
 prints, but she knew that she had not missed them. 
 
 There was only one path, and that wound its narrow 
 
 373 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 way between a steep wall of broken, jagged rock and 
 the bank of the turbulent river. She marveled that 
 they had gone so far, and began to entertain a fearful 
 suspicion of the deep stream rushing past, when she 
 suddenly saw them. Carissa was coming toward her, 
 her white face showing with startling distinctness 
 under the starlight. She was carrying Moroni and 
 was sobbing hysterically under her breath, and almost 
 fainting from exhaustion. 
 
 "You poor darling, you," exclaimed Maggie, rush- 
 ing forward and putting her arms about her. She 
 gently lowered the overwrought, quivering form to the 
 ground, took Moroni from her, wrapped him warmly 
 in her shawl and turned again to Carissa. 
 
 "How cold you are! You mustn't stay here; let me 
 warm you a bit." She vigorously chafed the hands 
 and arms until a feeling of warmth began to return. 
 
 "Come, dear, you must try to walk, it's awful cold 
 up here, and you'll catch your death. I'll carry 
 Moroni and you must lean on me." 
 
 She took the shawl and put it about Carissa's 
 shoulders, who obeyed her as simply as a child. 
 
 When at last they reached the tent, and Carissa had 
 been put between warm blankets, and plied with hot 
 drinks, and rubbed until the quaking had gone from 
 her limbs, and the hysterical sobbing had passed from 
 her throat, she reached up and put her arms about 
 Maggie's neck. 
 
 "You are so good," she whispered, "and I have 
 been so wicked." She let her hand fall wearily upon 
 the form of Moroni, who was sleeping sweetly at her 
 side. 
 
 "Nonsense," said Maggie brusquely, though her 
 
 374 
 
MAGGIE'S INTERFERENCE 
 
 face was flushed with happiness; then bending over 
 and kissing her she said, while the tears came to her 
 eyes, "You are different from the rest of us, and bet- 
 ter I know; so much better! I wish you would teach 
 me to be like you." 
 
 During the following days a curious relationship 
 grew up between these two women, married to one 
 man. Maggie had never lost her old feeling of social 
 respect for Carissa as her superior, but there came to 
 be added a peculiar mingling of pity and self-reproach. 
 Carissa was impelled to open her heart to this sympa- 
 thetic, impulsive girl, who waited on her so tenderly 
 and lavished such love upon her, and she found a won- 
 derful relief in doing so. She even told her, in broken 
 sentences and falteringly, of the terrible disillusion- 
 ment that had come with reference to her husband, and 
 of her intense longing to be set free from it all. 
 
 Maggie did not altogether understand, but where 
 she failed to do so she mentally charged it to her own 
 deficiency and was silent. She gave freely of her 
 sympathy, and often wept even when Carissa' s eyes 
 were dry, and she sought by every means to kindle hope 
 and impart comfort. 
 
 "I'm happy here," she frankly confessed. "It's all 
 turned out so much better for me than I had thought; 
 but I see it's different with you." She was silent for a 
 moment and then said, impulsively: "There's one 
 thing — we'll keep this place to ourselves when he 
 comes. I'll see to that myself. He can stay with the 
 men till the house is built." 
 
 Carissa pressed her hand in mute thankfulness at the 
 relief this assurance brought 
 
 Neither of them spoke of Osborne, but Maggie 
 
 375 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 determined to find out what Brand's errand to the 
 city was, and also its outcome. 
 
 When Brand finally joined the little band of squat- 
 ters, he brought with him a load of furniture, together 
 with tools and materials for house-building. His 
 manner was surly and disagreeable. His arm, which 
 still pained him, he carried in a sling. Nor was he as 
 particular about his personal appearance as in former 
 days. This fact was apparent even to Maggie. He 
 had begun to let his beard grow in the fashion of the 
 pioneers of that day, and about his brow and eyes were 
 the marks of the evil passions he had indulged so 
 freely. After a few short words of greeting to Carson, 
 he was about to make his way into the tent, but Mag- 
 gie stopped him. 
 
 "She has been very sick and is sleeping, don't 
 disturb her," she said. 
 
 "Who? Carissa?" 
 
 "Yes. Aren't you glad to see me?" asked Maggie, 
 coquettishly. 
 
 He made no reply, but kissed her rather indiffer- 
 ently, and then stood with knitted brows as though 
 debating some question. Maggie watched him, a 
 little hurt at his manner, but over all a look of confi- 
 dence on her face. Presently he turned about and 
 walked away. 
 
 Later in the day Maggie found him returning from 
 an inspection of the corral. 
 
 "I wish you would hurry and have the house built," 
 she said, smiling at him in a winning way. "Then 
 the rest can have it to themselves and we can take the 
 tent. Don't you want to?" 
 
 She had arranged her dress with an eye to please 
 
 376 
 
MAGGIE'S INTERFERENCE 
 
 him, and now as she spoke she raised her arm, so 
 that the sleeve fell back, revealing its perfect con- 
 tour. 
 
 Something in his look showed her that she still 
 retained her old power over him, and she determined 
 to use it, both to hold him for herself and to protect 
 Carissa. 
 
 He made her no direct answer, but studied her face 
 a little curiously. 
 
 "Maggie," he finally asked, "what would you say if 
 I should tell you that I think of taking another wife, 
 perhaps two?" 
 
 She winced at his words, but looked up at him with 
 a show of defiant confidence. 
 
 "You can take as many as you please for all I care," 
 she said, stepping close to him. "But I have my own 
 place, and I defy anybody to rob me of it." 
 
 She lifted her hands to his shoulders, and he stooped 
 and kissed her warmly. 
 
 "When is it to be?" she asked presently, drawing 
 back a little. 
 
 "I don't know. I'm in no hurry, but Brother Brig- 
 ham urges it. A good many new arrivals have not 
 been provided for yet, and he says I can afford it and 
 ought to set the example." His seeming indifference 
 comforted her, and she smiled happily as he con- 
 tinued: "You take the matter in the right spirit, 
 Maggie, and I'll see that you don't suffer by it." 
 
 Presently, however, she saw the light fade away 
 from his face and the old shadow return. 
 
 "I don't see why she couldn't have taken it in the 
 same way," he said bitterly, referring to Carissa. "It 
 would have saved all this bitterness and trouble." 
 
 377 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 "It's because she's different," explained Maggie, 
 eagerly. "She was raised different, and she doesn't 
 believe in it, and then she has so much imagination." 
 
 "Damn her imagination! Was it her imagination 
 that led her to take up with that damned lieutenant in 
 the city? and to plan to leave the country with him? 
 I've got something to say to her about that." Brand's 
 lips were twitching and his fist was clenched. 
 
 "Do you care more for her than you do for me?" 
 
 The soft pleading of her tone and glance drew from 
 him the answer: "No, but she must be made to do 
 her duty." 
 
 She suddenly drew close to him again and asked, 
 almost in a whisper: "What did you do to this 
 soldier?" 
 
 "I shot him, as he deserved to be shot," replied 
 Brand, fiercely, "but the devil protects his own. I 
 didn't kill him. He got away to California." 
 
 Maggie was exultant at the good news which she 
 could carry to Carissa, but she had another point to 
 gain. She dropped her eyes, and then, slowly raising 
 them again with a look of coy beseeching, said: "Will 
 you do something for me that I want you to do very 
 much?" There was an assumed timidity about her 
 manner that charmed him. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 "Don't talk about any of this to her. What's the 
 use? When you see her, you'll know that she's been 
 punished enough. And I do so want this to be a 
 happy summer!" 
 
 He looked at her frowningly. He had determined 
 to come to a definite understanding with Carissa. It 
 was unendurable that she should continue to defy 
 
 378 
 
MAGGIE'S INTERFERENCE 
 
 him. And then, too, this Osborne affair was one that 
 he could not afford to overlook. 
 
 "I don't allow any wife of mine the luxury of a 
 lover," he said, grimly. 
 
 "Nonsense, dear," laughed Maggie, "he was no 
 lover. She might have fancied he could help her to 
 get away. That was all." 
 
 "All! And isn't that bad enough?" roared Brand. 
 
 "You can punish her by treating her coldly. You 
 can leave her to herself," said Maggie. "Let us, you 
 and me, be together while we can and be happy. It 
 would be so easy to destroy our happiness. Will you 
 do this for me? You know that I would do anything 
 for you." 
 
 She saw that he wavered. He was not generous 
 enough to give the promise, but she believed that she 
 had won the day, and she was confident that she would 
 be able to play her part well enough to secure for 
 Carissa freedom from intrusion at least, even if no 
 other freedom could be won for her. 
 
 It was natural that Carissa should feel great relief at 
 the cheering news which Maggie hastened to tell her. 
 She could see no outlook for the future, but she 
 devoted herself as bravely as she could to the neces- 
 sary duties of the dreary, hopeless present. Brand 
 usually avoided her, and when it was necessary for 
 him to speak to her, he did so with studied and sullen 
 indifference. Since his coming, there was a partial 
 return to her old relations with Maggie; there was no 
 recurrence of the confidential talks that had passed 
 between them, though each was conscious of an under- 
 current of sympathetic understanding, that perhaps 
 grew the deeper because it was unexpressed in words. 
 
 379 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 During these summer months Carissa lavished all 
 the pent-up stores of her love and devotion upon 
 IMoroni. She was never separated from him. She 
 would sit and watch him for hours as he was about his 
 play, and whenever Brand approached him she would 
 catch her breath in quick, unreasoning jealousy and 
 alarm. The little fellow seemed to acquire an under- 
 standing of her moods, and would run and stand at her 
 side, sturdily on the defensive at the approach of all 
 except Maggie for whom he developed a great liking. 
 
 Brand noticed this, and it stung him intolerably. 
 One day when Moroni had evaded his caresses and 
 had run as usual to Carissa, Brand faced about sharply, 
 while a dull flash of anger darkened his face. 
 
 "Have a care," he said threateningly, "how you 
 teach that boy to hate his father and despise his 
 birthright." 
 
 "Go and speak to your father, Moroni," said 
 Carissa tremulously, and with dry lips, but Brand 
 turned round and walked heavily away. 
 
 From this time he seemed to include Moroni in his 
 general attitude of surly indifference. 
 
 380 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 ALONE 
 
 When fall came the house had long been completed, 
 and Carissa made a request, as Brand and Maggie 
 were talking of going to the city. 
 
 "Let me stay here with Moroni," she said. 
 
 Brand looked at her suspiciously. There was a pit- 
 iful eagerness in her voice. How intensely she longed 
 to be alone! 
 
 "What new nonsense is this?" said Brand, with slow 
 contempt. "You don't know what you are talking 
 about." 
 
 W'hen they were alone together again, IMaggie asked 
 Carissa: "Why do you want to stay? Don't you see 
 how impossible it is? You would be all alone, and the 
 winters here are frightful." 
 
 "But the sheep-herders will be in the neighborhood; 
 and oh, ]\Iaggie, I shall die if I cannot be alone. This 
 life is killing me, and I cannot go back with him." 
 
 Maggie's sympathies were easily enlisted and she 
 soon set about the task of securing Brand's permission. 
 
 At first Brand would not listen, but ]\Iaggie was a 
 persistent and resourceful pleader, and at length partly 
 impelled by the sullen reflection that perhaps the 
 experience might bring her to her senses, Brand con- 
 sented. And the first snow found Carissa and ]\Ioroni 
 alone together in their cabin. 
 
 Then it was that Carissa seemed to return somewhat 
 to her old self. The sweeping of the wind down from 
 the canyon; the icy breath of the storm; the heaping 
 
 381 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 of the snow around their dwelling, drift upon drift; the 
 necessity of clearing a path from the house to the 
 stream, of breaking the ice for water, or of gathering 
 heaps of snow for melting; the short days full of 
 employment; the long evenings by the crackling wood 
 fire; the return of childhood's dreamless slumbers, 
 were all as delightful and as health-inspiring for her as 
 for the boy. 
 
 She drifted into a forgetfulness of the past, and 
 seemed sometimes to herself, to be as much an essen- 
 tial part of her wild surroundings as the mountains 
 that had lifted their heads against the storms for ages 
 past. She read to Moroni and talked to him — talked 
 about her own childhood and told him stories of great 
 deeds and noble men. 
 
 She was really severe with him but once, and that 
 was when he had attempted to deceive her about some 
 trifling thing. 
 
 In after years he never forgot the scene that fol- 
 lowed. The tragedy of her glance, as she raised her 
 hand to strike him; the awful pallor of her face and 
 the quick lapse to hysterical weeping, as he clasped 
 her knees, in childish terror of her strange anger, were 
 printed indelibly upon his mind. It was long before 
 she was quieted; and then with suppressed passion, she 
 told him that deceit had ruined her life; that she 
 would rather cast him out into the snow to perish by 
 the wolves that snarled at night, and never to see him 
 again, than ever to have him guilty of a lie or the 
 slightest deceitful practice. For days there was a 
 haunting look in her eyes; and he only learned to 
 drive it away by going to her and lisping, "Roni '11 
 never tell a lie. Roni '11 never 'ceive you, mamma." 
 
 382 
 
ALONE 
 
 When spring came, the mountain streams were full; 
 and mother and child penetrated far up the canyon, 
 gathering moss and spring flowers and delighting in 
 the leap of the foaming water as it dashed downward 
 over its rocky bed. 
 
 One day in the month of April when they returned 
 from their excursion, they found that Brand and Mag- 
 gie had arrived; and Carissa felt the old constraint 
 descend upon her like a thick, smothering garment. 
 
 Maggie brought with her a baby about three months 
 old, and Moroni was delighted with this new and won- 
 derful toy. He called to his mamma to come and 
 look; and pointed delightedly to her tiny features and 
 thick black curling hair. Carissa sought to be self- 
 possessed, but it was difficult for her to return, even 
 indifferently, her husband's greeting. 
 
 A change seemed to have come over him during 
 these winter months, his former sullen temper seemed 
 in a measure abated, but he made no effort to regain 
 his hold upon Carissa. 
 
 He took Moroni with him on various journeys into 
 the surrounding country, and almost won the little fel- 
 low by speaking kindly of his mother, and by his 
 counsel to love her and be obedient to her word; but 
 with her he was invariably reserved. 
 
 Before returning to the city again, however. Brand 
 asked for an interview with Carissa, and what followed 
 made an indelible impression upon her. 
 
 "Do you care to return to the city again this fall?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "No, no. I cannot," she answered gently. 
 
 "I do not urge it now," he answered, frowning a 
 little, "but you must remember that Moroni must soon 
 
 383 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 enter the church schools. You have chosen your own 
 way; I propose to let you walk in it. I have also per- 
 mitted you the care of Moroni, but the time is 
 approaching when he must be taught the faith that you 
 have rejected." 
 
 "Oh, no. Do not say that," she implored. 
 
 "Carissa, listen to me. I have been charged with 
 folly and weakness for letting him remain with you a 
 moment. I have been looked upon with suspicion for 
 tolerating your rebellion. Children have been taken 
 from their mothers for less faults than you have 
 shown. I will bear with you as long as possible, but 
 you must beware how you poison the mind of that 
 child against the faith that shall be hisy 
 
 As he spoke. Brand's voice was firm and his man- 
 ner controlled. Carissa could find no further words of 
 remonstrance, but her heart was steeled to desperate 
 resistance whenever the time should come. 
 
 "I do not expect you to think kindly of me," he 
 said, rising from his seat, "but has it ever occurred to 
 you that all that has come between us, has come 
 because you hardened your heart against the voice of 
 God? I will own that I was angered and embittered 
 last year, but you know the reason." There was a sin- 
 gular mingling of sternness and tenderness in his 
 voice. But Carissa felt all her old feeling of hardness 
 return as he touched upon the past. 
 
 "You made friends with our ancient enemies; those 
 who drove us from our homes in the past, and who 
 would utterly destroy us if they had the power; you 
 have forgotten your duty, and " 
 
 "Stop," cried Carissa. "what do you expect to gain 
 
 by this?" 
 
 384 
 
ALONE 
 
 "I have tried to forget all that," he went on, "but 
 you do not forget. I hoped that these months of soli- 
 tude would make some impression upon you. Do you 
 realize what kind of life you are shaping for yourself?" 
 
 Carissa was silent, she was struggling with the 
 impulse to declare once more her bitter hatred of the 
 cruel system that held her helpless in its meshes. 
 
 "I did not intend to say this to you," continued 
 Brand, "but I now urge you to think of the long dreary 
 years that lie before you, the utterly wasted life that 
 will be yours unless you are reasonable. You must be 
 part of the system, or the system will most assuredly 
 crush you to powder!" 
 
 It was long after his departure before Carissa ceased 
 to feel the sickening sensation that his words had 
 caused. 
 
 During this summer and fall Brigham decided to put 
 in operation his famous, or infamous, "handcart exper- 
 iment." It was asserted that the idea came by 
 inspiration from the Almighty, but it resulted in the 
 death of hundreds of deluded pilgrims by starvation 
 and exposure, as well as in the maiming and crippling 
 of hundreds more. There are still those in Utah who 
 retain vivid recollections of the terrible privations and 
 sufferings of thousands of men, women and children, 
 as they pushed their loaded handcarts before them over 
 the dusty plains, fording the rivers, climbing the moun- 
 tains, facing every peril, enduring every hardship, lured 
 by the hope of seeing, before death should overtake 
 them, the glory of the heavenly Zion upon earth. 
 Before the plan was fully executed, Brigham heartily 
 repented of his "inspiration," and at a late hour did 
 all that he could to avert its tragic results. But at this 
 
 385 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 early springtime, there was nothing but unbounded 
 enthusiasm manifested concerning it. 
 
 Brand was ordered to go to Winter Quarters in com- 
 pany with other Elders, to organize the pilgrims into 
 companies, and lead them on the march. This kept 
 him fully occupied until late in October. 
 
 During the summer a large company of settlers 
 made their appearance at the lower end of the valley, 
 and Carson reported that they were laying out a town 
 under Brigham's orders. Not much was accomplished, 
 however, till the snows set in. Brand returned in time 
 to spend about a week in Cache Valley, before taking 
 Maggie with him again to the city for the winter. 
 
 As Carissa watched them disappear, and realized that 
 for several months she would have her boy to herself 
 again, she again felt the rush of life and its enjoyment 
 return to her. With something of the old zest she 
 sought to lose herself by becoming absorbed in the 
 moods of nature. 
 
 The winter was unusually severe, but mother and 
 child felt no hardship. The cold at times was 
 intense, but they challenged it bravely by cramming 
 the spacious fireplace with logs of resinous pine that 
 had been brought from the canyon and stored for win- 
 ter use. One stormy night they received a half-frozen 
 wanderer from the settlement below, who had been 
 bewildered by the snow and had lost his way, and who 
 would have perished but for the beacon light that 
 shone through their cabin window. After he had been 
 made comfortable, he rewarded their hospitality by 
 telling them of news which had been received, of a 
 great reformation that was being preached by Brigham 
 and his counsellors, Grant and Kimball. 
 
ALONE 
 
 Carissa gathered that the people were everywhere 
 publicly confessing their sins amid the wildest excite- 
 ment; that thousands of them were being re-baptized; 
 and that many who had heretofore refused to enter 
 polygamy had now consented. This was the one thing 
 that was accepted as evidence of perfect consecration 
 on the part of the people, and this, with the loyal pay- 
 ing of tithes into the Lord's treasury, was preached as 
 "living their religion." 
 
 "They do say that Brother Brigham himself has 
 added several girls to his own family, and that 
 Brother Brand, your man, has taken two more." 
 
 It was a sickening revelation, but the dominant 
 impression in her mind was one of surprise at her own 
 indifference. There might as well be a dozen as only 
 
 two! 
 
 "I think I shall take a couple more myself," the 
 visitor continued with an air of self-importance. 
 "I've taken up two hundred acres of this here bottom 
 land, and I'll need more help in the spring to work it; 
 besides, I feel that it's my religious duty." 
 
 The storm was too severe for him to leave before 
 morning, and long after he had gone the memory of 
 his presence seemed to pollute the house. 
 
 With the spring Maggie came with her baby now 
 a chubby, hearty, happy, year-old girl. Carissa was 
 immeasurably relieved that Brand did not appear. 
 She learned from Maggie, who treated the matter 
 with an assumption of cool indifference, that the 
 report brought to her in the winter was true. Her 
 husband was now the husband of a full quartette. 
 When she thought of it she was disgusted with herself, 
 that she had ever loved him. She felt sometimes that 
 
 387 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 the one condition of happiness would be to have him 
 drop out of her life utterly. 
 
 Maggie brought word that he could not come to 
 them until the middle of summer. 
 
 How the weary days dragged on in spite of this 
 relief. Was this to be her life? She sometimes felt a 
 deadly weakness stealing over her as she watched 
 Moroni and his little "cousin" at play. 
 
 What a tragedy life had become! And these two 
 little innocents must grow up in the midst of all this 
 wickedness, be corrupted by it, their entire natures be 
 changed by it, and they must die without realizing any 
 higher ideal. The thought sometimes maddened her, 
 sometimes overpowered her. Maggie's cheerfulness, 
 spontaneous though it was, seemed affected and 
 strangely out of place. 
 
 About the first of August, Carson, who had been to 
 the city to be present at the exercises on Pioneer 
 Day, returned with stirring tidings. The anniversary 
 celebration had been held at Big Cottonwood, and 
 during its progress, word had been brought that a 
 United States army was on its way to Utah. Brigham 
 had declared war, had prophesied that the army would 
 not be permitted to enter the valley, and had ordered 
 the citizens to prepare for defence. Brand would be 
 fully occupied till the trouble was past, and Carson 
 was instructed to bring Carissa with Maggie and the 
 children on his return. 
 
 "I shall stay here with Moroni," Carissa said firmly. 
 
 "But Brother Brand's orders were positive," insisted 
 Carson. 
 
 "It makes no difference, I shall not go," she 
 declared positively. 
 
 388 
 
A L O X E 
 
 ]\Iaggie was reluctant to leave her, she seemed so 
 frail and feeble. She could see now how terribly she 
 had failed during the past two years. But when she 
 spoke of staying with her, Carissa said, "You should 
 go, dear. Obedi mce is right for you. Moroni will 
 take care of mamma, won't you, my boy?" 
 
 "I will never leave you, mamma, or let anyone hurt 
 you," he said loyally, taking her hand in his and 
 looking up at her in resolute gravity. 
 
 "But won't you come with us?" urged ]\laggie. "It 
 seems so desolate for you here, and you are not as 
 strong as you were." 
 
 "No, I shall stay. I can breathe here, when the 
 snow comes down and blocks the passes, and all the 
 world is shut out." 
 
 After Maggie's departure, Carissa lived as in a 
 troubled dream. She tried to regain her old sense of 
 liberty, but it came in glimpses, only to mock the 
 weakness that would not permit her to embrace it. 
 She persuaded herself that she was waiting only for the 
 breath of winter. The long days of Indian Summer 
 seemed .interminable. She performed the ordinary 
 and necessary duties of the household, but she per- 
 formed them mechanically. Moroni, sturdy, quick and 
 eager, moved about with her; but in spite of herself 
 her thoughts would wander back over the bitter past. 
 
 The fact of the soldiers being in the valley again 
 made her think often of Osborne. How long ago it 
 seemed since he had taught her to dream of a possible 
 escape, and how terribly her fate had closed in about her 
 since then! In her weakness she began to live those 
 dark days over again, and to feel the weight of shud- 
 dering dread. Again and again, all the sickening 
 
 389 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 details of the hours of her disillusionment came before 
 her. She put these thoughts away with all the power 
 of her will, but they returned again and again with 
 harrowing persistency. Moroni observed her growing 
 sadness, and would leave his play and come to her. 
 He associated it with the one tragic occurrence in his 
 own life, and would throw his arms about her and say: 
 "Mamma, you can trust me. I will never deceive you, 
 or disobey you." 
 
 The childish appeal would break the spell, and, as 
 in former days, she would hold him closely in her 
 arms, and find relief in a storm of weeping. 
 
 When at last the snow began to fall, she called to 
 Moroni to come and explore the drifts, and turned her 
 face to the pelting storm, inviting its sting. But she 
 found that the cold chilled her, and the exertion 
 exhausted her. There was no longer stimulation in 
 the storm for her. The disappointment was keen. 
 Was there, then, to be no relief from the ceaseless 
 round of enervating, regretful thought? She began to 
 think that death was waiting for her with the coming 
 of the spring. For herself she knew that it would 
 bring glad release; but she fought desperately against 
 the thought of relinquishing the guardianship of her 
 boy. 
 
 In the meanwhile, events of world-wide interest were 
 happening in other portions of the territory. The 
 fiendish crime at Mountain Meadows was perpetrated 
 in September, whereby one hundred and twenty 
 unarmed, unresisting, innocent and inoffensive men, 
 women and children were butchered in cold blood 
 by Indians and white men, instigated and led by mem- 
 bers of the Mormon priesthood. 
 
 390 
 
ALONE 
 
 The people at this time were especially exasperated 
 by the attitude of the government. After Colonel 
 Steptoe's departure Brigham declared in the taber- 
 nacle, "I do not know what I shall say next winter if 
 such men make their appearance here as did last 
 winter. I know what I think I shall say; if they play 
 the same game again, so help me God, we will slay 
 them." 
 
 And the people endorsed his sentiments. 
 
 Brand was thoroughly in sympathy with this attitude 
 of the people. He seemed to have cast off entirely 
 the last remains of Carissa's influence, and to have 
 buried the finer instincts that were originally a part of 
 his nature. He was found among those who coun- 
 selled the most extreme and violent measures. 
 
 "If the soldiers enter the territory, let loose the 
 Indians; give them a taste of savage warfare and 
 exterminate them, root and branch," he advised, and 
 for some time Brigham was inclined to follow his 
 advice. 
 
 But his natural caution, joined to his knowledge of 
 the unlimited resources of the United States, deterred 
 him from so serious a course. He trusted to turn back 
 the invading army by threats and annoyances, by 
 checking their march, and by forcing them to feel the 
 rigors of a harsh climate, far from their base of sup- 
 plies and in the midst of a hostile country. 
 
 Brand was among the most aggressive of those who 
 sought to make this policy effective by building bar- 
 ricades across Echo Canyon, and hovering about the 
 enemy, cutting off stragglers and supplies, and keep- 
 ing them through the winter in a constant state of har- 
 assing suspense. 
 
 391 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 One day in January, however, he received news from 
 a prisoner who had fallen into his hands, that caused 
 him to secure immediate release from further duty. 
 This done, he mounted and rode furiously for the city. 
 There he made a few inquiries of Brigham and others, 
 and without waiting to call upon any of his wives, 
 secured a fresh horse, turned northward, and labori- 
 ously broke his way over the drifted roads to Cache 
 Valley. 
 
 The news that had sent Brand upon his sudden jour- 
 ney was that Captain Osborne, a young officer unat- 
 tached to General Harney's staff, had accompanied the 
 expedition as far as their winter quarters, but had left 
 the command some days before. 
 
 "Where did he go?" demanded Brand. 
 
 "The impression is that he was bearer of private let- 
 ters to your governor," was the answer, "but I think- 
 that he had some business of his own to attend to." 
 
 On reaching Salt Lake City, Brand learned that 
 Osborne had been there only the day before, that he 
 had remained but a short time, had made some 
 inquiries concerning the road to Cache Valley, and 
 had gone almost immediately no one knew where. 
 
 392 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 WHAT CAME WITH THE STORM 
 
 It was a wild winter night in lonely Cache Valley. 
 Always the climate is more severe in this region than 
 in the immediate neighborhood of the Great Salt 
 Lake. The snow comes earlier, lies deeper, and lin- 
 gers longer in the spring. This valley is little more 
 than a long deep pocket in the midst of a rough 
 mountain country, hence its name. 
 
 For days past the snow had been falling steadily. 
 The narrow plain was covered with a thick heavy blanket 
 that obliterated all uneven surfaces, and made the rude 
 dwellings of the settlers, grouped together in the dis- 
 tance, seem like mere excrescences, white-capped but 
 blotchy on the landscape. Up in the canyons the snow 
 lay in great packed masses, smothering deep the brawl 
 of the streams that still forced their way by hidden 
 channels down into the valley, covering the tops of 
 the tallest pines, and leaving only the most exposed 
 rocky projections of the precipitous sides, with a com- 
 paratively thin covering to drape their gaunt naked- 
 ness. 
 
 For days the snow fell quietly and heavily, as 
 though the clouds were overburdened, and must of 
 necessity empty themselves, but preferred to do it 
 without fuss or confusion of any sort. Finally the 
 wind rose, the cold grew more intense, the snow- 
 became hard and icy, and was flung in fierce gusts into 
 the hollows and crevices of the rocks, or was swept in 
 
 393 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 pitiless sheets across the valley, to storm upon the 
 opposite barriers, or to dash in fury against the inter- 
 cepting walls built for shelter of man or beast. 
 
 There was a dreary air of wild desolation about this 
 scene as the daylight faded and the gray shadows 
 deepened, and the gathering night seemed composed 
 of the flying elements of the storm. Nature had full 
 sway, had asserted her supremacy. Every trace of the 
 work of man was nearly obliterated. The wilderness 
 had returned with its riot of untamed passion and 
 unrestrained possession. Yet in this desert of darkness 
 and cold, there were a few sheltered oases of warmth 
 and light, where cheery fires were burning, and family 
 groups vvere gathered. 
 
 The few sturdy men who lived in this valley were of 
 stern stuff. They had made their way from far-off 
 lands, across the sea, over plain and mountain, to the 
 sage-brush region of the Great Salt Lake, with a dream 
 of empire in their hearts, and in the hope of being 
 able to lay the foundation of a unique civilization. 
 They were strong, thrifty, bold and persevering; with 
 a strain of peculiar religious fanaticism, but resource- 
 ful in accommodating themselves to their great under- 
 taking, and happy in the consciousness of achievement 
 well begun. 
 
 Several miles further up the valley was the cabin 
 where Carissa Brand was living alone with her boy. 
 All about was the piled-up snow. She had managed 
 to keep the short space from the door to the wood-pile 
 comparatively clear. The window to the east had long 
 since been covered, and the drifts were beginning to 
 encroach upon the one to the south. 
 
 It was a rude interior with only one living room, facing 
 
 394 
 
WHAT CAME WITH THE STORM 
 
 the south, and two bedrooms partitioned off at the rear. 
 The fire-light, strong and ruddy, fell upon the home- 
 made furniture, the shining kitchen utensils, the bare 
 walls of well-chinked logs and the movable cot brought 
 in for the night, well-blanketed and cozy, where Moroni 
 was lying listening to the storm and blinking with 
 approaching drowsiness. In one corner was a large 
 pile of good-sized sticks of fire-wood, that had been 
 brought in by one of the cattle-men on his way to the 
 feeding sheds, who, through a spirit of kindliness, 
 had performed this service a few days before the 
 storm began. 
 
 "There's a cold spell a-coming, and heaps of snow," 
 he prophesied shrewdly, "and it'd be tough on you to 
 have to lay in this wood after it once gets started." 
 
 Carissa was seated in her favorite attitude, a little 
 removed from the direct glow of the fire, her hands 
 folded in her lap, her head thrown back, her body in a 
 position of repose. 
 
 Her rich brown hair, coiled in picturesque manner, 
 caught the glancing light of the fire and seemed to 
 glow with a warm radiance of its own. Her face was 
 partly in the shadow, but the profile told the unmis- 
 takable story of rare sensitiveness united with high 
 purpose and pure resolve. It still bore a look of unut- 
 terable sadness, but the old familiar bitterness and 
 unrest had given way to a strange expression of peace. 
 It was as though she had at length become detached 
 from the entanglement of her life, and could now look 
 upon it sorrowfully but without acute distress. 
 
 But this peace had come after a terrible experience. 
 She feared that she would not survive the winter, and 
 there came to her at a time of sore weakness, a return 
 
 395 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 of the wild suggestion that, as she could not live to 
 guard her boy, he must die with her. 
 
 For days she had brooded over this suggestion. 
 The weary days and lonely nights, her enforced inac- 
 tivity, the pressure of her own trouble that had some- 
 how returned upon her with new force as her strength 
 failed for battling against it; together with the persist- 
 ent and growing apprehension for IVIoroni's future, as 
 she remembered the influences that would shape his 
 character; these had all led her to entertain a sugges- 
 tion that her true self would have recognized as infa- 
 mous. These were her darkest days. 
 
 But that time had passed. 
 
 Since then she had found a new liberty, not of for- 
 getfulness but of faith. She believed that her days 
 were numbered; where could she find strength to carry 
 on this hopeless struggle longer? But somehow she 
 believed that God would guard her treasure. She had 
 ceased to think of her husband's deceit and infidelity, 
 and the degradation into which he had descended. 
 She sought to pray for him as the father of her boy, 
 and to forgive him the sorrow he had brought upon her. 
 
 Such impressions as these were present with her as 
 she sat before the fire, not thinking, but dreaming with 
 both eyes open. 
 
 Suddenly there seemed to be a lull in the storm. 
 She found herself sitting upright listening intently, 
 — the echo of a faint cry in her ears. 
 
 Was it a cry? Or simply the voice of the tempest? 
 Again the wind beat furiously upon the door, and a 
 fresh shower of sparks rushed up the chimney. Her 
 heart was beating violently. She glanced wide-eyed 
 toward the cot where Moroni was sleeping the sweet 
 
 396 
 
WHAT CAME WITH THE STORM 
 
 sleep of childhood. She could not dream of any wan- 
 derer being abroad in such a storm, and yet the mem- 
 ory of that faint cry urged her to go and look out into 
 the night. 
 
 As she^ left her chair she heard something brush 
 heavily against the door. She thought it must be a 
 mass of snow, dislodged by the wind, but even as she 
 sought to reassure herself, she heard the sound again, 
 not so loud as before, but followed by something like 
 a muffled cry. 
 
 Immediately, in spite of the nervous dread that had 
 seized her, she went to the door and opened it. The 
 fierce blast burst with fury into the little room, and 
 the icy particles struck her face sharply. She uttered 
 a cry of horror as a man's form fell helplessly across 
 the threshold and lay at her feet. 
 
 Exerting all her strength, she drew him into the 
 room. In the effort her hands were cut by the sharp 
 icy coating of his garments. She hastened for a stim- 
 ulant, and turned him over that she might admin- 
 ister it. 
 
 As she saw the face a low wail burst from her, for 
 she was looking upon the face of her husband! 
 
 For a moment she knelt, holding the bottle convuls- 
 ively and staring as though transfixed, and then fever- 
 ishly endeavored to pour the liquid between his frozen 
 lips. He made an effort to swallow, but strangled 
 painfully. Again she poured the whiskey between his 
 lips, and opening the door rushed out, and returned with 
 her dress full of snow. She packed it gently about his 
 face and head. 
 
 It was a terrible task to cut from his hands the 
 gloves and from his feet the heavy boots, but she did 
 
 397 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 not pause until his frozen limbs were packed in snow. 
 When she applied the stimulant again he seemed to be 
 able to take it, and she knelt by his side in piteous 
 prayer to God. 
 
 All that night she worked over him, scarcely con- 
 scious of her terrible exertions, compassion struggling 
 with aversion in her heart. Toward morning he 
 opened his eyes and recognized her; he tried to speak 
 but failed. 
 
 The lower part of his face was swollen, and his lips 
 were cracked and bleeding. Gently, with an infinite 
 pity, she applied soothing applications and sought to 
 restore him, but finally the truth broke upon her. 
 
 It must all be in vain. She had called him back to 
 life, but she could not hold him. His eyes, fixed upon 
 her, were gathering an unearthly glaze. 
 
 She gave him more of the whiskey. It revived him, 
 but she knew that it was only for the moment; a feeling 
 of deathly sickness came over her. So this was to be 
 the end! 
 
 Brand was trying again to speak, it was a supreme 
 effort and the words came with terrible labor. 
 
 "Has — he — been here?" he gasped. 
 
 She did not know what he meant, but she shook her 
 head and replied gently: "No one has been here, not 
 for a long time. Don't try to speak, it hurts you." 
 
 A spasm crossed his face. "Curse him," he said 
 hoarsely. 
 
 The imprecation at such a time seemed infinitely 
 terrible. 
 
 "Don't, don't," she murmured, "you are dying, and 
 I cannot bear it." She bowed her head and began to 
 pray aloud. 
 
 398 
 
WHAT CAME WITH THE STORM 
 
 "Carissa," Brand's voice interrupted her, "it is a 
 long journey. I can explain it all on the way. You 
 must accept it." 
 
 His mind was wandering back over the past. He 
 moved his hands with painful effort as though trying 
 to grope his way in the darkness. 
 
 "Something came between us," he continued, bro- 
 kenly. "I forget what it was. Will — you — kiss me — 
 dearest?" 
 
 She pressed her lips pityingly to his forehead and. 
 burying her face in her hands, abandoned herself to 
 weeping. 
 
 For a long time he lay silent, but his labored breath- 
 ing told her that he still lived; then he seemed to 
 rally, he tried to raise himself upon his elbow, and his 
 voice rang out for the last time in tones of strong 
 remonstrance. 
 
 "No, no, it is not true. See, it is written here." 
 
 Then there was a great silence. And the King of 
 Terrors passed. 
 
 The morning sun shone brilliantly upon the earth. 
 Slowly it mounted to the crest of the intercepting 
 ridge, until it could look broadly over into the valley. 
 Before its coming, the storm retreated as though 
 abashed. 
 
 The warming light penetrated through the snow- 
 draped windows into the little cabin, where Carissa was 
 holding her long, sad vigil. 
 
 She was thinking over the past. What pictures were 
 painted for her by the facile-fingered artist, ^Memory! 
 Pictures of quiet scenes before her real life had begun, 
 of love and hope and kindling enthusiasm; illusions 
 all, they seemed to her. Panoramic pictures of long 
 
 399 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 distances, broken by stirring events and new sensa- 
 tions; dark pictures of the beginnings of disillusion- 
 ment, followed by crushing disappointment, sorrow 
 and fear. One memory alone of these later years held 
 any touch of brightness: Osborne's frank solicitude 
 and tender sympathy and brave resolve. But even 
 this bright memory had no power to awaken hope. 
 
 She shivered as her glance turned again to the spot 
 where a still form lay shrouded from her sight. She had 
 forgiven him, but her forgiveness was but the expression 
 of a great human pity; there had been no reawakening 
 of love for this man. She remembered him as he first 
 appeared to her; but the lie of his life had been on 
 his lips at the moment of death, and poisoned every 
 thought of him. The deadness of her heart toward 
 nim was the measure of his awful debasement in her 
 eyes. 
 
 Even now, what could the future hold for her? Her 
 heart was sick with the dreary desolation into which 
 her life had fallen. 
 
 Abroad, the sun was changing the storm-swept, 
 snow-laden valley into a scene of gem-like bril- 
 liancy. 
 
 With the full dawning of the new day, Osborne 
 came. He had found shelter with the cattlemen for 
 the night, and, leaving his horse, had come on snow- 
 shoes over the drifts. 
 
 She recognized him instantly. With the opening of 
 the door and his presence on the threshold, there 
 rushed an intoxicating promise of life to Carissa's 
 overtaxed heart. It was Life's answer to the cry of 
 her soul. She arose to her feet and stretched her 
 hands towards him. As he reached forward and 
 
 400 
 
WHAT CAME WITH THE STORM 
 
 caught her in his arms, she buried her face upon his 
 shoulder and sobbed aloud. 
 
 "At last," he said, gently, and sought to soothe her 
 with tender words full of promise. 
 
 "For three years I have prayed for this time," he 
 continued, in broken explanation. "I was wounded — 
 fever set in. During my delirium, they put me aboard 
 ship for New York. I recovered only to come for 
 you. I will never leave you again. We will go 
 together from this desolate place. Thank God, that 
 terrible time is past." 
 
 Her sobbing ceased. She lifted her head and bravely 
 smiled at him through her tears. 
 
 "Come," she said, and taking his hand she led him 
 to the place where her husband was lying. 
 
 "He is dead." There was deep solemnity in the 
 simple words; Osborne felt it, but could not check the 
 throbbing of the new hope that came to him. He 
 bowed his head reverently, however, as she added, "I 
 have prayed God to forgive him, and " she fal- 
 tered as though yielding to her exhaustion. Turning 
 to the cot, where Moroni lay, she sank upon her knees. 
 
 "Oh, my boy, my boy, God guard you from ever 
 becoming like him." 
 
 It was largely owing to the disturbed state of the 
 country that they were able to effect their escape with- 
 out molestation. There was no one to dispute their 
 passage through the outlying settlements, on the way 
 to the northern trail to California. The men of the 
 country were all gathered near the eastern border of 
 Utah, to obstruct the entrance of the troops under Gen- 
 eral Harne^^ 
 
 Maggie did not know of the fate that had overtaken 
 
 401 
 
BY ORDER OF THE PROPHET 
 
 Brand until spring returned. He had been reported 
 missing, but the impression was that he had been 
 killed while on a scouting expedition, or in a fierce 
 skirmish that had taken place near Echo Canyon. 
 
 The intelligence was brought to her in a tenderly 
 worded letter from Carissa. Maggie was not surprised 
 at the news of her escape, for she had seen Osborne at 
 Salt Lake City, and she herself had given the clue 
 that led him to Cache Valley. 
 
 Her generous heart rejoiced at the brighter day that 
 had dawned for Carissa; at the promise of peace and 
 quiet happiness that had come with a love that had 
 been proved true and generous; but her heart was torn 
 with passionate grief at her own bitter loss. 
 
 "He came in that terrible storm," wrote Carissa. 
 "When I saw him, I knew he must die. Dear Mag- 
 gie, I know what terrible sorrow this will bring you, 
 and my heart is burdened for you. I forgave him 
 everything, but you will mourn for him. We buried 
 him in a grave, under the snow, by the cottonwood 
 trees you planted." 
 
 It was a sad pilgrimage for Maggie to the burial 
 place of the man she had loved. She had never seen, 
 for herself, the flaws in his character, nor appreciated 
 the debasing tendency of the faith he embraced. He 
 had never deceived her ; poor girl, there had never 
 been any necessity. 
 
 402 
 
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 1/;':; or, ,.^ 
 
 
 
 
 
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 OCT 3 1938 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 LD 21-20m-5,'39 (9269s) 
 
f725400 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY