hing that led to this glorious
reformation? You see, Brother Pixley came back with me, after doing
great works abroad. Naturally, he came full of love for his wives. But
he had been here only a few days when he became convinced that one of
them had forgotten him; something in her manner made him suspect it, for
she was a woman of singularly open, almost recklessly open, nature. Then
a good neighbour came and told him that one night, while on his way for
the doctor, he had seen this woman take leave of her lover--had seen the
man, whom he could not recognise, embrace her at parting. He taxed her
with this, and she at once confessed, though protesting that she had not
sinned, save in spirit. You can imagine his grief, Brother Rae, for he
had loved the woman. Well, after taking counsel from Brigham, he talked
the matter over with her very calmly, telling her that unless her blood
smoked upon the ground, she would be cast aside in eternity. She really
had spiritual aspirations, it seems, for she consented to meet the
ordeal. Then, of course, it was necessary to learn from her the name of
the man--and when all was ready for the sacrifice, Brother Pixley
commanded her to make it known."

"Tell me which of Brother Pixley's wives it was." He could feel the
little cool beads of sweat upon his forehead.

"The fifth, did I not say? But to his amazement and chagrin, she refused
to give him the name of the man, and he had no way of learning it
otherwise, since there was no one he could suspect. He pointed out to
her that not even her blood could save her should she die shielding him.
But she declared that he was a good man, and that rather than bring
disgrace upon him she would die--would even lose her soul; that in truth
she did not care to live, since she loved him so that living away from
him was worse than death. I have said she was a woman of a large nature,
somewhat reckless and generous, and her mistaken notion of loyalty led
her to persist in spite of all the threats and entreaties of her
distressed husband. She even smiled when she told him that she would
rather die than live away from this unknown man, smiled in a way that
must have enraged him--since he had never won that kind of love from her
for himself--for then he let her meet the sacrifice without further
talk. He drew her on to his knee, kissed her for the last time, then
held her head back--and the thing was done. How sad it is that she did
not make a full confess