ld be
smart to defy the United States."

Late one night, by appointment, he called for her with a carriage,
driven by a man unknown to her, and took her to a darkened house that
had a dim light only in the hallway. They entered alone and turned into
a parlor that was dark, except for the reflection from the hall. He led
her up to the portieres that hung across an inner door, and through the
opening between the curtains she saw the indistinct figure of a man.
They stood before him, hand in hand, while he mumbled over the words of
a ceremony that sounded to her like the ceremonies she had heard in
the Temple. She caught little of it clearly; she remembered practically
nothing. She was not given anything to show that a ceremony had been
performed, and she did not ask for anything. The elderly bridegroom
kissed her when the mumbling ceased, led her out to the carriage, took
her back to her mother's house, and that night became her husband.

She bore him a son. No one except her mother, her father and a few
trusted friends knew that she was married. In the early months of 1905
she read in the Tribune the testimony given before the Senate committee
by Professor James E. Talmage, for the Church, to the effect that since
the manifesto of 1890 neither the President of the Church nor anybody
else in the Church had power to authorize a plural marriage, and that
any woman who had become a plural wife, since the manifesto, was "no
more a wife by the law of the Church, than she is by the law of the
land."

She asked her husband about it. He replied that an apostle had married
them. "I asked my husband," she said, "to get a certificate of marriage
from the apostle. He told me I needed none--that it was recorded in
the books here and recorded in heaven--that it would put the apostle in
danger if he were to sign such a paper. I said that that was nothing to
me--that I wanted to protect my good name. Finally, he said it was not
an apostle. Then we had a bitter scene. And he did not come back for a
long time. And he didn't write as long as he stayed away.

"When he came back he was more loving than ever. I was afraid of having
more children. I said to him: 'You cannot hold me as a wife any longer
unless you write a paper certifying that I'm your wife and this boy is
your child. You may place that paper anywhere you like, so long as I
know I can get it in case you die. Suppose you were to die and all
your folks were to deny that I was