ce, until she felt the firm grasp of
Follett's hand. The speaker went on, having turned again to the front.

"Instead of a church you shall become justly hated and despised as a
people who foul their homes and dishonour beyond forgiveness the names
of wife and mother. Then your punishment shall come upon you as it has
already come for this and for other sins. Even now the Gentile is upon
us; and mark this truth that God has but now given me to know: we have
never been persecuted as a church,--but always as a political body
hostile to the government of this nation. Even so, you had no faith.
Believing as I believed, I would have fought that nation and died a
thousand bloody deaths rather than submit. But you had no faith, and you
were so low that you let yourselves be ruled by a coward--and I tell you
God _hates_ a coward."

Now the old pleading music came into his voice,--the music that had made
him the Lute of the Holy Ghost in the Poet's roster of titles.

"O brethren, let me beg you to be good--simply good. Nothing can prevail
against you if you are. If you are not, nothing shall avail you,--the
power of no priesthood, no signs, ordinances, or rituals. Believe me, I
know. Not even the forgiveness of the Father. For I tell you there is a
divinity within each of you that you may some day unwittingly affront;
and then you shall lie always in hell, for if you cannot forgive
yourself, the forgiveness of God will not free you even if it come
seventy times seven. I _know_. For fifteen years I have lain in hell for
the work this Church did at Mountain Meadows. A cross was put there to
the memory of those we slew. Not a day has passed but that cross has
been burned and cut into my living heart with a blade of white heat. Now
I am going to hell; but I am tired and ready to go. Nor do I go as a
coward, as _you_ will go--"

Again the long forefinger was flung out to point at Brigham.

"--but I shall go as a fighter to the end. I have not worshipped Mammon,
and I have conquered my flesh--conquered it after it had once all but
conquered me, so that I had to fight the harder--"

He stopped, waiting as if he were not done, but the spell was broken.
The life, indeed, had in the later moments been slowly dying from his
words; and, as they lost their fire, scattered voices of protest had
been heard; then voices in warning from behind him, and the sound of two
or three rising and pushing back their chairs.

Now that he no longer