Billy was not the boy to obtain a license to do mischief without
availing himself of its privileges. Like most of the Bishop’s children
he regarded his father with a distant awe not altogether unmixed with
dislike, and though he had once been convicted of putting a toad in the
pocket of the prelate’s overcoat, for which he was severely punished,
and on another occasion implicated with an older brother in mixing some
coarse grains of gun-powder among the old gentleman’s smoking tobacco,
from which charge he escaped with a scolding, he was always ready for a
lark, especially if his mother put him up to it, and torture could not
have induced him to inculpate that parent.
In a Mormon family the boys of each wife frequently regard her as their
especial charge, whom they are to defend from the other women and from
the liege lord of all. The children are bound to hear and to notice the
complaints and griefs of their mother no matter how quietly or
resignedly they are borne, and Hulda had a candid way of telling her
children what she thought, which had the effect of stripping the Bishop
of much of his majesty in their sight. Beyond their shy “yes sir,” and
“no sir,” when he spoke to them, there was nothing they could say to
him, for he showed them no fatherly affection that would draw them to
him and make them feel they had a place in his heart. So long as they
had plain food and clothes and a place to sleep, he thought he fulfilled
his duty towards them; and for the rest, they were as strangers.
Billy slipped down the stairs as stealthily as a cat, and after
listening a moment at Eliza’s door, and satisfying himself the Bishop
was engaged in conversation, he stood looking at his coat, hat, and
boots, thinking what most troublesome sport he could indulge in. As if
waiting for a better idea he took one of the boots and set it to catch a
stream of water that was trickling down from the snow on the coat. He
watched it drip for a few seconds, and then, placing the other boot over
a small puddle that had formed on the floor, suddenly began to shake
with laughter, and made a most hideous grimace in his endeavor to keep
from laughing aloud.
He knew that his father must return to the theatre with the sleigh to
bring Amelia home, and it had occurred to him that he might render that
enterprise extremely troublesome, by simply hiding the key of the barn-
yard gate. He no sooner thought of it than he gave an amused look
towards the boots congratulating himself that they would keep the floor
from getting wet, and went up the stairs almost bursting with merriment.
Quickly putting on his shoes he hurried out by a back door, assured
himself that the heavy gates were locked, and then took the key from the
peg on which it was kept in the stable and hid it near by. He soon after
crept upstairs to bed without saying a word to his mother, though he
found a piece of bread and molasses lying on the table as the reward of
his ingenuity.
Though the Bishop could hardly be accused of over-sensibility, it was
some little time before he could bring himself to speak to Hagar on the
subject that was troubling him. Sister Eliza sat by the fire, knitting,
and apparently oblivious of Edwin’s purpose, though she was as fully
aware of it as himself. Hagar was sewing, but for some unknown reason
felt rather uneasy. She noted that the Bishop spoke in a lower voice
than usual, and that he seemed to have come to spend the evening, a
thing he had not previously done since she came to his house.
When she had answered his queries about the school, she got up with the
intention of withdrawing to her own chamber; but he told her plainly he
had come to talk with her and begged her to remain. She resumed her seat
with the unpleasant consciousness that she was his only auditor for
Eliza’s “deefness” prevented her from hearing a word he said.
“It’s something more important than schools, Sister Miles, that’s
brought me here this evening,” he began, with considerably more
embarrassment than usually characterized his matter-of-fact speech.
Hagar was slightly discomposed by this, but went on with her work,
hoping it might not lead to the subject foreshadowed by her fears. He
continued after a pause:
“It’s nothing short of the eternal welfare of your soul as well as my
own. I’m in solemn earnest, and I hope you’ll give me a fair hearing.”
There was a slight tremor in his voice, and he moved nervously on his
chair.
“I hope,” said Hagar, “that I have always listened attentively when you
spoke to me about religion.”
“Passably, Sister, only passably. You have not embraced the full meaning
of the everlasting covenant—you have not tasted of the sweet mysteries
of the Endowment House. You cannot know the Celestial state until you
enter the Celestial life, and you not only keep aloof yourself, but I am
sorry to say that you sort with others whose fidelity is not above
suspicion.”
Hagar felt her face grow pale; but the Bishop did not look at her.
Keeping his eyes turned towards the hearth, he went on:
“I know nothing about this young Spencer except that he is a pauper, and
the slight standing he has obtained in the priesthood will not avail to
make the house of Israel a pleasant place for him if he persists in his
present course. He is criticising things here in Zion, and giving too
loud a vent to what he thinks. It may cost him dear.”
“You know that it was he who saved our train from the Indians?” said
Hagar, taking advantage of a pause.
“I heard the tale—but it’s nothing more:—the explosion that saved the
train was a thunderbolt. Many of the saints saw it fall from the clouds
upon the stockade. Surely he has not made you believe that yarn about
the bake-kettle?” said Langley, with a sneer.
“Yes, I believe it, because he came to me in the darkness that night,
and said he was going to blow up the savages. I know also that he
exposed his own life to great peril when he approached that fort, and he
told me the details of how he threw the improvised bombshell among
them.”
“And you like him, then, because you think he is a great hero? And do
you want to marry a man on that account without asking whether he can
keep you or not?”
“No, Bishop Langley, I do not mean to marry at all,” she replied firmly.
“But I thought you came to talk to me about the eternal welfare of my
soul?”
“So I have. There is no welfare for a woman’s soul unless she
marries—marries in the everlasting covenant. You must fully realize this
fact before I can tell you all I have to say. Woman’s soul must be saved
by her husband through the holy covenant of celestial marriage; there’s
no other way, as you must know if you have learned the alphabet of the
gospel of the last days. I can save and exalt you. By your sharing my
kingdom in the heavens, I can obtain for you a bright immortal crown,
and you will become a queen of the highest glory and exaltation, the
dazzling star of my celestial bliss—”
“Do you believe all that, Bishop Langley?” The Bishop was reiterating
with a more or less genuine enthusiasm, some of the pyrotechnical
imagery of the “Prophet Joseph” whom he had often heard dilating in a
similar style for hours at a time. But Hagar was already fully
acquainted with that portion of the Mormon doctrine, the elder Mrs.
Spencer having especially pointed out its beauties to her. Her question
rather staggered him, coming as it did during a momentary pause in his
most effective speech; but he replied after a slight hesitation:
“Maybe that’s the trouble—I believe it and you don’t? Is that so? You
don’t believe that Celestial marriage is a true doctrine?” The Bishop
spoke in a tone which seemed to indicate a suspicion that he had been
taking too much for granted.
“So far as I have seen,” said Hagar, quietly, “marriages seem about as
much of a terrestrial affair among the saints as anywhere else. Your
wives work for you and stay at home to attend the house and the
children. I may appear narrow, but I can discern nothing celestial in
the lot of woman here among the saints—they are mere drudges like other
women but unlike their poor sisters in other communities, have not the
undivided love and devotion of a husband to comfort them in the midst of
their hardships—”
Hagar knew that while she had made her meaning but partially clear, she
had made what was rather a venturesome speech in the ears of a Mormon
bishop. But she was determined to venture so much if only to see what
would come of it.
“The celestial life,” replied the Mormon, deliberately, “is as the word
implies, to begin in the celestial world. We are only preparing for it
here. Every true latter-day saint will be the King over a separate
world, and the family of his offspring here will form the groundwork of
his Kingdom there. The spirit world is full of spirits that are waiting
for earthly tabernacles; but the select of these can only be
accommodated by bodies that are formed under the celestial covenant. The
mystery of this great doctrine requires more time than I have at my
disposal now, for proper explanation. But you have listened to the
discourses of the prophets and apostles of these latter-days, and you,
Sister, surely have not come to Zion with the deliberate purpose of
shunning all the blessings and privileges they have promised you?”
Hagar was uncertain how to reply and hesitated so long that the Bishop
was beginning to think she could not answer him. She had seen a good
deal of her host, and had formed a clear judgment as to his character,
to the effect that he was not a man of high principle even according to
his own code. That was why she brought forward the question of belief.
And now she was thinking of two other points in the same connection, the
first was his promise to Amelia that he would marry no more wives, and
the other, the new law of Congress prohibiting polygamy. She had no
desire either to displease him or to render him her enemy, for she knew
he was venomous towards those he disliked, and she wished to ask him
some day to assist her to get away from Zion.
“Surely,” he continued, with a certain satisfaction that she did not
reply at once, “it ought to be our highest pleasure to seize the
benefits extended to us by the Gospel.”
“That is doubtless true, Bishop Langley,” said Hagar, dropping her work
in her lap and raising her pensive eyes towards him, “but there are two
difficulties in connection with what you have been saying, which I would
thank you to explain. I have heard a great deal about the law that
Congress recently passed forbidding any further practice of plural
marriage—”
“Yes,” he said, interrupting her impatiently. “But that’s an
unconstitutional law; Congress has no right to interfere with our
religious practices. That’s what has caused the great war that is now
ruining the country and that has divided it into two nations. Congress
wanted to interfere with the constitutional rights of the South, to deny
them the rights of property guaranteed to them by the founders of the
Government; but you see the South is powerful, and will not submit to
the wrong. It is true that we cannot now resist by force; but we can go
on practicing celestial marriage in spite of their unjust laws. Our law
is from God, and we shall not ask human law-makers if we may follow it.
“When the South establishes its independence, we shall become a member
of that confederacy which is now shaking the corrupt Union to its
center. The South will recognize that the Bible which shows slavery to
be a divine institution, also shows plural marriage in the same light,
and we shall triumph when the Union which seeks to oppress, and has so
long persecuted us, is shattered all to pieces!”
The Bishop spoke with vehemence towards the last, and sawed the air with
his arms as if he were addressing a ward meeting.
“You think, then, that the Rebels will conquer?” Hagar asked with a
pathetic anxiety in her voice.
“The Southerners? yes, they will conquer. You should not say Rebels.
People are not rebels when they fight for their rights. Oh, yes, they
will conquer; the Union armies can never recover from their recent
disasters; the North is discouraged, indeed there is every reason to
believe that before this, a treaty of peace has been signed granting the
South a separate existence, and indemnity for the cruel injury done
her.”
Hagar felt like uttering a cry of pain; but she controlled her feelings
and resumed her work, listening as he went on:
“God is on the side of the South, because he is on ours, and our prayers
go up to him in their behalf. The Constitution was inspired by God, and
granted religious freedom no less plainly and unequivocally than it
legalized the sacred institution of slavery.”
Hagar had heard many of the saints make remarks intimating that their
sympathies leaned towards the cause of the South, but she had not known
for certain that the Mormon Church placed so much reliance on the
success of the Confederacy. The discovery of that fact in connection
with so much else that was disagreeable added to her anxiety, and she
was unable to see her way out of a decidedly uncomfortable dilemma. Why
had she ever been so foolish as to come to Utah?
The Bishop looked at her a moment as if expecting her to say something,
but she plied her needle in silence, devoutly hoping that he would soon
withdraw. Presently he moved his chair a little nearer, and leaning
towards her, said entreatingly:
“But what are the other difficulties, dear Sister?”
“I have heard that you made a promise to Sister Amelia when you married
her two years ago, that you would never take another wife. They said at
the Spencer’s that she would not marry you until you did so.”
“That was simply a temporary matter to please her vanity. I never meant
it seriously, and she knew very well that my religion would not permit
me to make any such foolish pledge. Perhaps, so far as I am personally
concerned, I might prefer to have only one wife; but we must obey the
Lord’s laws, not make laws unto ourselves where we have His to guide us.
If God requires me to take another wife I am at once absolved from a
promise like that, and Amelia herself would be the first to admit it.”
There was an almost irresistible desire in Hagar’s mind to ask him how
he became so conveniently aware of the requirements of the Divinity with
relation to such minor details of his life; but she had become
accustomed to that species of cant, and now felt a loathing for the
hypocrite before her, whom she believed to be as insincere to his
supposed religion as he was false in his private life.
Hagar had been conscious from the first that Amelia regarded her as a
possible rival, and that she had exhausted every artifice in trying to
prevent the Bishop from seeing her alone. She knew also that he had
obtained the present interview through a cunning trick. But she could
not lose sight of the fact that her situation demanded prudence. She
therefore determined that whatever he might say she would neither speak
a rash word nor give him a decisive answer at present. While she had
made no strong professions of religion, nor entered into any of the
‘mysteries’ she was taught to regard as a necessity, she had been
careful not to define her attitude; but tried to content herself with
doing her present duty, and leaving the future to Providence, for whose
help she humbly prayed.
“I think you are mistaken about Sister Amelia. She will not consent to
your taking another wife.”
As Hagar spoke the Bishop seemed to devour her with his eyes. He rose
and almost sprang towards her in his eagerness. Grasping her hand
passionately, he exclaimed with a kind of fiendish rapture:
“Are you so sure of that, dear Sister, that you will agree to say ‘yes’
if she does?”
His look had chilled her, but his touch seemed to create a horrid
sickness in her heart—a nauseous disgust that made her shudder. She
could not speak. He held her hand fast and went on:
“Only pronounce that little word and make me the happiest man on earth.
For I love you—have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I have
never felt towards any woman as I do towards you—you have inspired me
with a kind of infatuation never before known to my heart. My tongue’s
loose, now, and I must tell you all. You are my sunlight, the air I
breathe, the hope that makes me love life. God has sent you to me to
crown with bliss what I have done for duty. You are mine by right, by
the very gift of Heaven!” He spoke rapidly, but in a subdued tone.
Sister Eliza must have caught the sound of his voice, however, for she
turned round and took a sly glance over her spectacles, then indulged in
a pinch of snuff, and resumed her knitting. She was soothed by the
pleasant conviction that Edwin was teaching her young guest some of the
mysteries of the latter day gospel.
Hagar drew away her hand as soon as she could without exhibiting too
much of her real feelings towards her polygamous suitor.
“You doubt that Amelia will agree? Why, she will come to you and plead
my cause if I ask her to. You do not answer, Sister.” Hagar had resumed
her seat, and he had stepped back a pace or two well aware that he had
met with a check though there was no marked outward token of it.
When she felt that she could speak without betraying the anger she was
keeping back, Hagar replied, while looking at him calmly:
“I am too selfish, and jealous, to occupy the position of a plural wife.
Besides, Bishop Langley, I am in no way suited for the honor you offer
me, of becoming your seventh wife, and I trust you will let the matter
rest where it is. What you propose is impossible.”
“One moment. Do you realize that you are rejecting the man who worships
you?” He spoke in a soft, pleading voice. Hagar was more startled than
she would have been if he had begun to threaten her. “I do not believe,”
he continued earnestly, “that you are suited to be a polygamous wife.
You would be my only one, in all except the fulfillment of my religious
duties to the rest. You shall be my only wife. I am rich, I will pension
off the others, provide for them and their children, and live alone for
you. I never loved a woman till I saw you, and I believed I never
should. But I deceived myself—it has come at last—it devours my heart—it
seems to take possession of my soul; and you, you, dear Sister, are the
cause—” The clock in a large wooden case on the mantel struck eleven,
and a new agitation began to disturb the Bishop’s mind. He must go to
the theatre at once with the sleigh to bring Amelia home.
Sister Eliza also noted the time and said:
“If yer goin’ to fetch ’Meelie, Edwin, ye’d better be startin; the
theayter must be nearly out, I guess.”
Hagar would have been glad to thank Sister Eliza for that speech.
“Yes,” replied the Bishop, “that is true. But we can resume our
conversation at another time, Sister Miles. I will say good night; and
may I not trust that we shall understand each other?”
“Good night: I hope we may,” Hagar rejoined.
Immediately after his exit she went to her chamber, where she fell on
her knees at the bedside and wept as she had not done for some time.
The hall-lamp had been turned low and was burning dimly, giving the
Bishop a decidedly crestfallen appearance as he seated himself near the
hat-rack and took off his blood-red slippers. He pulled on the left boot
with some difficulty, and ejaculated a phrase or two which would have
been very like profanity coming from any other than a Bishop, when his
foot came in contact with the water at the bottom. Seizing the other he
turned it up and poured its liquid contents on the floor, blaming
himself for his stupidity in placing them where they would catch the
melting snow from his coat. That came from falling in love! Quite twenty
minutes were lost in procuring a dry pair of socks and boots, as he was
not certain in which wife’s apartment he could lay his hands on them.
But he was presently ready, and hurried to the barn where the man had
the sleigh in waiting.
“Did you put the gate-key in your pocket, sir?” asked the man.
“No,” the Bishop answered, sourly, “I hung it in its proper place.”
“Well, it’s not there, sir.”
Find it they could not. And after spending nearly half an hour in the
fruitless search several minutes were next consumed in finding a bar to
pry out the staples. It was after midnight when the Bishop drove up to
the theatre to find it in darkness.
As Amelia was not waiting in the portico he concluded she had walked
home so he drove there with all haste. Edwin junior, who had been with
her at the theatre, had reached home and was foraging in his mother’s
larder for something to eat. He said that Amelia had gone to pass the
night with Miss Spencer as she could n’t walk through the snow, and that
she was terribly riled about that priesthood meeting.