desirable.

Darling was now postmaster of Nauvoo and one of the first presidency. To
him she went first. She shrank from him because of his coarseness and
the jocular admiration which he sometimes had the audacity to express
for her, but she could not forget how assiduous his kindness had been in
the days of Elvira's illness. She found him sitting, his heels on the
upper part of a chimney-piece with a fireless grate, reading the
Millenial Star. The hot April sun, streaming through the windows of his
office, had caused him to take off his coat, which was no longer
thread-bare. His shirt sleeves were fine enough and white; the high hat
that was pushed far on the back of his head was highly polished.
Opulence, self-indulgence, good-nature, and a certain element of
fanatical fire mingled in the atmosphere of the postmaster's office, and
made it somewhat turgid.

When Darling heard Susannah's errand he became serious enough. An
apoplectic sort of breathlessness came over him, expressing a degree of
interest which she could not understand. He settled his hat more firmly
upon his head. "Does the prophet know?"

"He knows. I have said good-bye to him and to Mrs. Smith. It is sad to
part with friends that I have known for so many years."

"And the prophet's going to let you go, is he?"

Darling, clumsy at all times, in this speech conveyed to Susannah the
first faint suspicion that Smith might dream of detaining her by force.

Darling's youngest daughter, who had been an affectionate pupil to
Susannah at Quincy, waylaid her as she came out, and clasped her about
the waist with the ardour of an indulged child. She was a blithesome
girl of about fourteen.

"I heard you tell father that you are going away. Is it true?" she asked
impetuously.

Susannah tried to release herself from the embrace. "Yes, it is true.
Never mind, you like your new teacher, you know, just as well as you
used to like me."

"I just guess I don't," cried the child defiantly. "But anyhow, if you
are going away, I'm going to tell you something."

Whether the childish love of telling a secret, the girlish love of
mischief, or a dawning sense of womanly responsibility was uppermost, it
would be hard to tell. There, in the open square, while worthy Saints
hurried to and fro on the pavement beside them, while horses jangled
their harness and drivers shouted and exchanged their morning greetings,
Darling's youngest daughter drew Susannah's head downward