Tea was not quite ready when they arrived at their boarding-house, and
they sat on the porch while waiting for it, Captain Raymond looking
over the daily paper just taken from the mail.
Sandy McAlpine and a younger brother named Hugh were sitting near by
looking over a picture-book together.
“Is your mother not well, boys?” asked the captain, glancing from his
paper to them. “I think I have not seen her at all to-day.”
“No, sir,” replied Sandy; “She’s lying down with a headache.”
“She got a letter,” added Hugh; “one of those letters that always make
her cry and get a bad headache. I wish they wouldn’t come, ever any
more.”
“Hush, hush, Hugh!” muttered Sandy, frowning at his brother and nudging
him with his elbow. “You know mother wouldn’t like you talking so,
especially to a stranger.”
“I haven’t said anything wicked,” returned the little fellow. “May be
you like to see mother cry and have a headache, but I don’t, and I’d
just thrash the man that sends her such horrid letters, if I could; and
I will, too, when I’m a big, strong man.”
Captain Raymond was seemingly quite occupied with his paper during
this little aside between the lads, but he heard every word, and was
thinking to himself, “It is probably some financial trouble, and I must
see what I can do for her relief; there are very special promises to
widows, and as one of the Lord’s stewards it becomes me to be ready to
assist them in distress.”
Marian came to the door at that moment with the announcement that tea
was ready.
The Raymonds at once rose and obeyed the summons, the captain with his
newspaper still in his hand. He laid it aside before sitting down to
his meal, and forgot it on leaving the room after supper.
He presently remembered it, however, and went back in search of it. He
found Mrs. McAlpine there alone, in tears, and with an open letter in
her hand. He would have retreated, but perceived that it was already
too late. She was aware of his presence, and opening her lips to speak.
“Excuse me, my dear madam,” he said. “I had no thought of intruding
upon your privacy, but—”
“You are entirely excusable, sir,” she answered gently, and with an
effort to recover her composure; “this room is public to you and your
children, and you have a perfect right to enter it unceremoniously when
you will. Will you take a seat?”
“Although I merely stepped in to get my paper, which I carelessly left
here, I shall accept your invitation with pleasure, dear madam, if you
will allow me the privilege of talking with you as a friend,” he said,
in a deeply sympathizing tone. “I can not be blind to the fact that you
are in trouble, and if in any way I can assist you, it will give me
sincere pleasure to do so.”
Then with the greatest delicacy he offered financial assistance, if
that were what she stood in need of.
“Sir, you are most kind,” she said, with grateful emotion, “but it is
not that; it is something far worse;—it is that this wicked, rebellious
heart will not submit, as it ought, to the cross He—my blessed Lord and
Master—has laid upon me. Oh!” clasping her hands together, while the
big tears streamed down over her pale and sunken cheeks, “I fear—I very
much fear—I hae loved the creature more than the Creator, and that this
is why this cross has been laid upon me; this cross, so heavy that it
bears me to the earth!”
She sank sobbing into a chair.
He drew up another and seated himself beside her. “Dear madam,” he
said, in moved tones, “we have not a high-priest who cannot be touched
with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted
like as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the
throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in
time of need.
“I know not what your trouble is, but sure I am that thus you may find
grace, mercy, peace, and the fulfillment of the promise, ‘As thy days,
so shall thy strength be!’”
“Yes, yes, I know,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands, “and
whiles I’m willing to bear whatever He sends; but at times the cross
seems heavier than mortal strength can endure, so that it crushes me to
the very earth! O Willie, my Willie, how happy we were in those early
years o’ our married life, when you were all the world to me and I was
all the world to you! but now—I can no longer feel that you are mine.
Others hae come between us; they have stolen your love from me, and my
heart is breaking, breaking!
“But, oh, this is sinful, sinful! Lord, help a poor, frail worm of the
dust to be obedient and submissive to Thy will!” She seemed to have
forgotten the captain’s presence, but light was dawning upon him.
“I think you are accusing yourself unjustly, my dear madam,” he said,
in pitying tones; “you are mistaking God-implanted feelings for the
suggestions of the evil one.”
“Alas, no!” she sighed. “Has not God given a new revelation to his
prophet, ordaining that ‘it is the duty of every woman to give other
wives to her husband, even as Sara gave Hagar to Abram, and that if she
refuses it shall be lawful for the husband to take them without her
consent, and she shall be destroyed for her disobedience’?”
“No,” returned the captain, and there was stern indignation in
his tone—not against the poor, deluded woman, but toward her base
deceivers—“a thousand times, no! any pretence to a new revelation, no
matter by whom it may be set up, must be a base fabrication. Listen!—”
“Ah, sir, you mean kindly,” she said, “but I must not listen to you,
for I perceive—what I had already suspected—that you are not one of the
saints; that you do not believe the teachings of the new gospel.”
“New gospel!” he exclaimed, his eyes kindling. “Tell me, Mrs. McAlpine,
were you not brought up to believe the Bible?” taking out a pocket
edition constantly carried with him, as he spoke.
“Surely, sir, and I may say with the Psalmist, ‘Unless thy law had been
my delights, I should then have perished in mine affliction.’”
He opened his Bible, and turning to the first chapter of Galatians,
read aloud: “I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that
called you into the grace of Christ, unto another gospel; which is
not another; but there be some that trouble you and would pervert the
gospel of Christ.
“But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto
you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As
we said before, so say I now again, if any man preach any other gospel
unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed.”
“Could anything be plainer or stronger than that?” he asked, with
emphasis.
“No,” she said slowly, looking like one waking from a dream. “Why
have I not remembered those words before? But—there has been a new
revelation; at least, they told me so.”
“A new revelation!” he repeated, in a tone of utter incredulity.
“Listen again to God’s own word, inspired and written many hundreds of
years before the birth of your so-called prophets, (‘false prophets,
dreamers of dreams, who have spoken to turn you away from the Lord your
God ... to thrust thee out of the way which the Lord thy God commanded
thee to walk in’).”
Opening to the very last page of the New Testament he read again: “I
testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this
book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him
the plagues that are written in this book; and if any man shall take
away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away
his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from
the things which are written in this book.”
She gazed at him for an instant in awestruck silence, then rousing
herself, said slowly, “But they say there are corruptions,
mis-translations.” She paused, leaving her sentence unfinished.
“There is no lack of proof that the Scriptures are the revealed word of
God, that the writers were inspired by God, and that if any corruptions
or mis-translations have crept in they are so few and slight as to be
of little account, making small difference in the meaning,” he said.
“The proofs of the authenticity and inspiration of the Scriptures are
so many that it would take a long time to state them all.”
“There is no need in my case, sir,” she interrupted. “I know they are
divine; the internal evidence alone would be all-sufficient to me.”
“And yet their teachings are directly opposed to those of Mormonism.”
“Not against polygamy, surely? God knows I would be glad to think so;
but how many of the prominent characters of the Old Testament had a
plurality of wives. Even David, ‘the man after God’s own heart,’ had
many more than one.”
“But the Bible nowhere tells us that God approved of the practice; and
how often the history it gives shows that polygamy brought sin and
misery on those who practised it. God made but one wife for Adam.”
“But Sarai gave Hagar to Abram.”
“But God did not command it, nor are we anywhere told that he approved
it. It was a sinful deed done in unbelief, and brought forth the bitter
fruits of sin.”
For a moment or more she sat silent, evidently in deep thought. Then
she spoke:
“I believe you are right, sir; though it has not struck me in that
way before. It did bring ‘forth the bitter fruits of sin,’ very much
the same fruits that polygamy brings forth here and in this day,” she
concluded with a heavy sigh.
Captain Raymond was again turning over the leaves of his Bible. “Listen
to the words of the Lord Jesus Christ,” he said.
“Have ye not read, that he who made them at the beginning made them
male and female, and said, ‘For this cause shall a man leave father
and mother, and shall cleave to his wife; and they twain shall be one
flesh! Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh.’”
“That passage is from Matthew, and Mark also gives these words of the
Master,” the captain said. “And have you not noticed how Paul in his
epistles always seems to take it for granted, when speaking of the
marriage tie, that a man can lawfully have but one wife at a time?
“‘For the husband is the head of the wife’ (not wives).
“‘He that loveth his wife loveth himself,’ ... ‘Let every one of you in
particular so love his wife even as himself.’
“‘A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife.’
“But Mormonism teaches that bishops may have, and ought to have, many
wives. Polygamy is encouraged on the ground that the rank and dignity
of its members is in proportion to the number of their wives and
children. Is not that the fact?”
“Yes,” she answered with a heavy sigh, “it is according to the
revelation made to Bishop Young.”
“A revelation indeed! though, as we have seen, the record was closed in
the time of the Apostle John, and a fearful curse pronounced on any who
should add to it. A revelation opposed to all the teachings of God’s
word on that subject. It came from the father of lies, for God never
contradicts himself; all the teachings of every part of his word are
consistent with each other, which is one of the proofs of the divine
inspiration of the Scriptures.
“From Genesis to Revelation the teaching, both direct and implied, is
that God made of twain one flesh, and a man may have but one wife. Adam
had but one, and in the book of Revelation John tells us the angel
said to him, ‘Come hither, and I will show thee the bride, the Lamb’s
wife,’—not wives, you will observe; there was but one.”
“You shake my faith in Mormonism,” she said, with a startled, troubled
look.
“I rejoice to hear it,” he responded; “would that I could shake it to
its utter destruction.
“Popery has been well called ‘Satan’s masterpiece,’ and Mormonism is
another by the same hand; the points of resemblance are sufficient to
prove that to my mind.”
“Points of resemblance?” she repeated inquiringly, “I have never
thought there were any, and I have a heart hatred to Popery, as you may
well suppose, coming, as I do, from a land where she slew, in former
ages, so many of God’s saints. But surely in one thing the two are very
different—the one forbidding to marry, the other encouraging men to
take many wives.”
“The difference in regard to that is not so great as may appear at
first sight,” he returned; “both pander to men’s lusts—for what are
nunneries but ‘priests’ prisons for women,’ as one who left the ranks
of the Popish priesthood has called them?
“Both teach children to forsake their parents; both teach lying and
murder, when by such crimes they are expected to advance the cause of
their church.”
“Oh, sir, so bad as that?” she exclaimed, with a shudder.
“It is computed that Popery has slain fifty millions of those she
calls heretics, and oftentimes she has secured her victims by the
basest treachery. All that in past ages, to be sure, but she claims
infallibility and denies that she has ever done wrong; besides, to this
day she shows the same persecuting spirit, and actually kills, too,
wherever she has the power.
“As to Mormonism doing likewise, look at the Mountain Meadow massacre,
the lying and perjury to prevent convictions for polygamy, and the
private assassinations committed to carry out their fearful and wicked
doctrine of blood atonement.
“In that doctrine also—asserting that the blood of Christ does not
cleanse from all sin those who accept his offered salvation—they agree
with the Church of Rome, whose teaching is that forgiveness of sins
and final salvation are to be obtained by penance and good works
supplementing the finished work of Christ; that good works are to be
done not—as the Bible teaches—_because_ we _are_ saved, but in order to
_earn_ salvation; thus flatly contradicting God’s word, which says:
“‘A man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law.’
“‘By grace are ye saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves; it
is the gift of God.’
“‘The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.’”
Again he opened his Bible and read: “‘Ye are of your father the devil,
and the lusts of your father ye will do: he was a murderer from the
beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in
him; when he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own; for he is a liar
and the father of it.’
“‘He that is of God heareth God’s words; ye therefore hear them not,
because ye are not of God.’
“Are not those words of the Master peculiarly applicable to all those
teaching doctrines so diametrically opposed to his?” he asked.
“They certainly are applicable to any who teach false doctrine,” she
replied.
“And can you call the Mormon doctrine of ‘blood atonement,’ by any
softer name?”
“No, for I believe God’s word, ‘the blood of Jesus Christ his Son
cleanseth us from all sin’; and its teaching that he is the one
sacrifice for sin.”
“And yet you call yourself one of them?”
“I have done so. I stood out against it for a time—in the old home in
Scotland—but the man—a Mormon missionary—was very plausible and seemed
very devout, quoted Scripture, won Willie, my husband, over first, and
they both kept at me till I grew fairly bewildered and half crazed,
and at last, when Willie told me he was bound to come over to America
and join the Latter-day Saints, I gave up and agreed to do the same;
for how could I part from him? and no word at all had been breathed to
either of us about polygamy; we had not thought it was one of their
doctrines.”
A spasm of pain convulsed her features, and for a moment she seemed
unable to go on.
“Does that speak well for their honesty?” he asked, in stern
indignation.
She shook her head. “No,” she said chokingly; “and the thought of that
has sometimes made me grow weak in the faith till my heart would almost
stand still with fright.”
The last words were spoken in a suppressed tone, little louder than a
whisper, and with a half-terrified glance from side to side, as if she
feared they might be overheard.
“And no wonder, considering their fiendish practice of ‘blood
atonement,’” he responded, regarding the poor, trembling woman with
deep commiseration. “I presume you had not been long a dweller in
Mormondom before you were more fully instructed in regard to those two
important doctrines?”
“No, sir, not long,” she replied, “as to polygamy at least; and when
my husband declared his intention of carrying that into practice, I
was heart-broken and entreated him to forbear, remembering his solemn
marriage vow to cleave to me only so long as we both should live.
“He tried argument with me at first, coaxing and persuasion, but
finding I was not to be moved by those, he grew very angry and abusive,
and hinted darkly at the danger of the blood atonement doctrine being
carried out in my case if I continued obstinate in refusing my consent.”
“And so you gave it?”
“Yes. Oh, sir, it was like consenting to have my heart torn from my
bosom!” she exclaimed in a low tone tremulous with pain. “But to
withhold it would do no good, and would endanger my life—my life, no
longer valuable save for the sake of my dear children: but for their
sake I did desire to live. Ah, sir, I could not but ask myself, ‘Is
this what it is to live in free America?’”
“I blush for my country, in view of the outrages she has allowed
in the name of religion!” he exclaimed, his fine, manly countenance
flushing with shame and indignation as he spoke. “And yet,” he
continued interrogatively, “you came to believe it right for a man thus
to break his marriage vow?”
“I grew bewildered with misery,” she said. “I had no choice but to
submit, and felt that I should go mad with the thought of my husband’s
wickedness if I held fast to the teachings of my childhood. I could not
answer their arguments (ah, I see now that more prayer and searching
of the Scriptures might have enabled me to do so; yet the result would
have been a violent death; probably by Willie’s own hand, making him
a murderer as well as—a breaker of the seventh commandment), so I
resigned myself to my fate—so far as I could—and have ever since been
fighting with the anguish and rebellion in my broken heart.”
She was silent for a moment, struggling with her emotion, then with a
grateful look at him, “I don’t know how it is, sir, that you have so
quickly won my confidence,” she said. “I have never before breathed a
word of all this into any mortal ear. Even Marian knows no more than
that I suffer because—other women share the affection that in former,
happier days was all my own.”
“It is sometimes a relief to unburden our hearts to a fellow-creature,”
he replied; “there is healing and comfort in human sympathy, and I
assure you, dear madam, that you have mine in no slight measure. The
man who can so wound the heart of a loving wife must be worse than a
brute.
“But the government has at last come to the rescue of these oppressed
wives. I trust the Edmunds Bill will prove the complete destruction of
polygamy, and efface this bar sinister from my country’s scutcheon.”
“I cannot but desire it, if only for my daughter’s sake,” she returned.
“Marian will soon be a woman, and, if your government does not help,
may be forced into a polygamous marriage. She would never go into it
of her own free will; she is no Mormon, but, young as she is, has
always declared intense hatred and abhorrence of both polygamy and the
blood atonement doctrine—and practice,” she added, after a moment’s
hesitation.
“Oh, sir, no small part of my suffering is occasioned by the change in
my child’s feelings toward her father; from loving him with an ardent
affection, she has turned to hating him with a bitter hatred, as the
destroyer of her mother’s peace and happiness.”
She ended with a burst of uncontrollable weeping.
Captain Raymond’s kind heart was sorely pained by the sight of her
distress. He felt himself powerless to give relief, but spoke gently
to her of the love and sympathy of Jesus, the “Friend that sticketh
closer than a brother,” and to whom “all power is given in heaven and
in earth.”
“Carry all your griefs, your fears, and anxieties to Him,” he said.
“There is no trouble too great for his power to remove, too small for
his loving attention. His love to his people is infinite, and he never
regards their sorrows with indifference.
“In all their afflictions he was afflicted, and the Angel of his
presence saved them.”
“It is true,” she said tremulously; “I have found it true in my own
experience. ‘In his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare
them, and carried them all the days of old.’ And so he has done with
me—his most unworthy and doubting servant. Ah, sir, you, I am sure, are
one of God’s own people, whatever may be your views with regard to the
Mormon creed, and I beseech you to pray for me that my faith in God, in
Jesus, and his gospel may be strengthened and increased.”