y, stopping
suddenly, with one hand raised to his head, as if at that instant
remembering a forgotten detail, and then turning with new impetus to
walk swiftly in the opposite direction.

"There ain't any one else after her, is there, Brother Rae,--any of
these young boys?"

"No, Bishop--no one."

"Well, if there is, you let me know. I'll be back again, Brother Rae.
Meantime, counsel her--counsel her with authority."

The Entablature of Truth had departed with certain little sidewise
noddings of his head that seemed to indicate an unalterable purpose.

The girl came to her father, blushing and still laughing confusedly,
when the rejected one had mounted his horse and ridden away.

"Oh, Daddy, how funny!--to think of marrying him!"

He looked at her anxiously. "But you wanted to marry Bishop Wright--at
least, you--"

She laughed again. "How long ago--years ago--I must have been a baby."

"You were old enough to point out that he would save you in the
after-time."

"I remember; I could see myself sitting by him on a throne, with the
Saints all around us on other thrones, and the Gentiles kneeling to
serve us. We were in a big palace that had a hundred closets in it, and
in every closet there hung a silk dress for me--a hundred silk dresses,
each a different colour, waiting for me to wear them."

"But have you thought sufficiently--now? The time is short. Bishop Snow
could save you."

"Yes--but he would kiss me--he wanted to just now." She put both hands
over her mouth, with a mocking little grimace that the Entablature of
Truth would not have liked to see.

"He would be certain to exalt you."

She took the hands away long enough to say, "He would be certain to kiss
me."

"You may be lost."

"I'd _rather_!"

And so it had ended between them. Ever since a memorable visit to Salt
Lake City, where she had gone to the theatre, she had cherished some
entirely novel ideas concerning matrimony. In that fairyland of delights
she had beheld the lover strangely wooing but one mistress, the husband
strangely cherishing but one wife. There had been no talk of "the
Kingdom," and no home portrayed where there were many wives. That lover,
swearing to cherish but one woman for ever, had thrilled her to new
conceptions of her own womanhood, had seemed to meet some need of her
own heart that she had not until then been conscious of. Ever after, she
had cherished this ideal of the stage, and refused to consider the
ot