and hastily
whispered to her the fate of her letters to Ephraim Croom.

"I know, for one day since we came here I heard father talking to the
prophet. He said you'd written lately while you were at Quincy, and all
your letters had been burned. Now that's the truth; and I said to myself
'twas a sin and a shame, and that you ought to know. Now don't go and
tell tales of me, or father will be mad--at least, as mad as he ever can
be with _me_." A toss of the pretty head accompanied these words, a
flash of conscious power in the bright eyes, the spoilt child knowing
that her father was in her toils now, as truly as any future lover would
ever be. The school bell was ringing. The girl, her bag of books hanging
from her arm, ran with the crowd of belated children.

Susannah walked on, almost stunned at first by the throb of intense
anger that came with this surprise. Then the anger was suddenly
superseded, hidden and crushed down by a rush of joy. Ephraim had not
neglected her; Ephraim had given her up for dead; but she had no reason
to suppose that he was dead, no reason to doubt his faithfulness.
Susannah trod the common street in love with motion as some happy
woodland creature treads the dells in the hour of dawn and spring.

When Elvira looked up to see Susannah enter her gate she saw her friend
transfigured in a glow of returning youth and hope. Elvira looked at her
timidly; this Susannah she had never seen before. Elvira's husband was
not present. The interior of the house was fantastic almost as its
mistress, but sultry with luxury.

"Well now, you think you are going," said Elvira. "Who'd have thought
it? And only last week General Bennet said to the prophet that if he'd
marry you to him he'd send to New York for diamonds both for you and
Emma Smith. He said he'd get a thousand dollars' worth of diamonds
apiece for each of you; but Mr. Darling said that you ought to be
married to Mr. Heber, who has just been elected an apostle, because--"
She stopped suddenly, nodding her head. "You know why--blood is blood,
and we have seen it run in rivers, but we don't mention it here in
Nauvoo."

Elvira set the French heel of her slipper in the centre of a rose upon
her carpet and spun round upon it till her flounces stood out.

"We don't mention it here in Nauvoo."

She sang as if it were the refrain to a song.

Susannah felt from within her shield of new delight an immense pity.
Here again was a revelation of the c