But, a few minutes after, coming into the hall, she hears: "Wall, bishop, did Miss Ermie arrive all right? I saw her off in good style, and I've come down here, first to look after the mine, and then to consult ye on some church business. What a beautiful lamb of Zion your darter is!"

It is the voice of Kruger, the Mormon! And Miss Travenion grows pale as marble, for she knows that the Church of Latter-Day Saints has its eye on Tranyon, its bishop, and Erma, his daughter, last season's prize-beauty in New York society, and Newport's latest summer craze; but now regarded by the Prophet Brigham and his Council of Seventy, as one of the elect of Zion, whom G.o.d has given into their hands to save, or lose--to elect, or to cut off, even unto the atonement of blood.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE LOVE OF A BISHOP.

The very telegram Erma thinks may bring Harry Lawrence to her side, curiously enough keeps him from her.

It comes about in two little episodes--one of sorrow, one of joy.

On the day Miss Travenion left Salt Lake City, at eleven o'clock, the young man calls at the Townsend House, to keep the appointment Erma has made for him with her father. He comes up to the office of that hotel, rather light-hearted, considering his desperate straits financially. He is about to see the girl he loves--she who, in wild moments, since her generosity of yesterday, he thinks may have some interest in him; for otherwise why should she take such pains to have him see her father?

He asks lightly: "Is Miss Travenion in?"

"Miss Travenion has gone," says the clerk, a little curtly, for the sudden departure of the Livingstons has not altogether pleased the hotel office.

"And the Livingstons--" asks Lawrence, hurriedly.

"The whole party went to California this morning at five o'clock, on the Ogden train," answers the youth behind the counter indifferently, for Mormon hotel clerks are quite often as careless as Gentile hotel clerks.

After a moment of blank astonishment, Harry suggests: "Any letter for Captain Lawrence?"

"Yes," replies the clerk, and hands him an envelope, the feminine handwriting on which he knows, and it gives back to him hope,--for one moment. Stepping aside a little, he opens it; and the sun, shining so brilliantly this bright October day, goes out of the heavens--for him.

For he sees a lady's visiting card which looks like this:

[Ill.u.s.tration:

(handwritten at top of card: I have seen my father, Good bye)

_Miss Erma L. Travenion_

_18 Madison Square North_]

Crushing the fragile pasteboard in his hand, his moustache twitches with pain, and he mutters bitterly: "Oliver Livingston was right! My darling has seen her father; he wishes her to still wed that washed-out aristocrat!"

A minute after he thinks: "She wished to bid me good-bye, also! Did she do it easily?" and inspects the card he has almost thrown away, to see if the handwriting shows emotion in its lines. Doing this, a little hope comes to him, for he sees a splash such as a tear-drop might make upon the delicate tint of the cardboard.

Putting the missive away reverently in his pocketbook, he meditates, and reason tells him he has lost her. It says to him, She is not of your cla.s.s and people. Her father wishes her to wed in her station, among the exclusives of Fifth Avenue and Murray Hill, and she obeys him. What are you that you should hope for her? If your mine was sold and you had nearly five hundred thousand dollars in your pocket, you might make an effort to win this b.u.t.terfly, who has come into your mannish frontier life to make it brilliant for a day or two. You were happy before you saw her; be so without her!

To this he cries, resolution fighting against conviction and common sense: "No more joy for me without her! I'll win her yet!" and goes on his way to see his lawyers about getting the injunction on his mine removed.

But his attorneys, Messrs. Parshall & Garter, do not give him very much hope of immediate success, and common sense is a very hard party to down in argument; consequently Harry Lawrence makes a very sombre day of it, and a more sombre night.

Two days after, however, cometh joy. He is in his lawyers' offices, trying to think if any one in this wide world will go on his bond to raise the injunction that paralyzes him financially, when Garter comes excitedly in, and slapping him on the back, cries enthusiastically: "Here's luck for Harry Lawrence. I've just received a stipulation from Judge Smith, Zion's Co-operative Mining Co.'s attorney, agreeing to raise your injunction!"

"Impossible!"

"Fact!"

"What reason did Smith give for this curious concession?"

"Nothing; only that Tranyon telegraphed instructions to that effect last night, and he thought there must be a mistake and had wired asking reasons; that Tranyon had replied, his only reason was that he wished it, and was going to have it done. Smith thinks the Mormon bishop has gone crazy. However, I've got the stipulation and you can go to work to-morrow," answers Garter, showing to Harry Lawrence's wondering eyes the doc.u.ment.

That day he begins arrangements for his return to Tintic, but he has a great deal to do and many mining supplies to order and ship, and this delays him. The Sunday intervenes. But Monday, hurrying his preparations, he is ready to start so as to make half the drive that day, and is even in his buckboard, ready to leave, when Garter himself comes, out of breath, to stop him, crying: "I've got more good news for you. My boy, you're rich!" and slaps Lawrence heartily on the back.

"Rich!" echoes Harry. Then he goes on more slowly, a lump coming suddenly into his throat, "What do you mean?"

"What I say! You're rich. I have within the hour received from Tranyon a quit-claim deed to you of the Mineral Hill locations from the Zion's Co-operative Mining Co. of Tintic. Look!" cries Garter, and displays the doc.u.ment.

"It can't be so!" gasps Lawrence.

"It is--and what's more, the deed's in proper form. It arrived by special messenger from Eureka, with a note from Bishop Tranyon, saying that on careful examination of the matter, he had concluded that the location was properly yours."

"How do you explain it?" asks Harry, who can't believe.

"Well," replies Garter, "Tranyon writes that he is moved by love of Zion to discontinue the suit--but I think it was fear of Parshall & Garter,"

goes on the modest Western lawyer. "The bishop heard you had engaged us.

Anyway, your t.i.tle to your Mineral Hill Mine is without contest. It's as clear as mine to my caput."

"Then the Mineral Hill's as good as sold to the English company. The deed's in escrow in Wells, Fargo & Co.'s. Telegraph Southmead in New York, and get the cash as soon as you can for me, Garter," answers Lawrence. "I leave town this afternoon. I've other business to attend to!" his face lighting up with something that it has not had in it since he read Erma Travenion's card.

"You go to Tintic, I suppose," asks the lawyer, as he gives Lawrence a farewell grip of congratulation.

"No! to San Francisco," is the answer, and leaving the astounded Garter gazing at him, Harry drives straight to his bank, cashes a check, and just catches the afternoon train for Ogden.

Arriving at this place, and walking over from the Utah Central to the junction depot, Lawrence is greeted suddenly and heartily by, "How are you, Cap?" and looking up, sees Buck Powers.

"How are you, Buck? Doing pretty well?" he remarks heartily to this youth.

"First rate! The news company made a kick about dat collection Miss Beauty took up for me. Dey wanted half of it, but I stood them off,"

returns Buck in explanation. Then he continues suddenly, "Say, boss, she was here four days ago."

"Ah! you saw her?" asks Harry eagerly.

"No--I was on de road--but that cripple Mormon who sells newspapers told me dat de whole swell Livingston outfit went West on the Central, Thursday."

This information is what Lawrence has expected; he goes into the office and gets his sleeping berth, Buck Powers greeting this transaction with a sly wink and a _sotto voce_ remark: "I guessed you wouldn't be long after her. You knows the purtiest girl as ever come over the road, you do, Cap."

So at six in the evening, Harry Lawrence, his pulse bounding with revivified hope, his eyes sparkling with eagerness, his heart filled with a great love, is speeding towards the Pacific in pursuit of the girl he has sworn shall be his and no other's: while every throb of the locomotive that he fondly thinks brings him nearer to her, bears him away from Erma Travenion.

And she upon whom his thoughts are, is sitting by the side of the mine cabin, looking over the sage brush plain of the West Tintic Valley, and listening to the low murmur of her father's and Kruger's voices coming to her through the open doorway, and thinking: "Harry has the news now.--To-morrow he will be here to work his mine.--To-morrow he will learn what I have done for him.--To-morrow he will know I am Tranyon's daughter.--Will he be generous enough to forget my father's shame?" Then she sighs: "These are curious thoughts for me, whom they called a belle at Newport six weeks ago--'Miss Dividends,' whose bonds have made her the bond-maiden of the Mormon Church!" And mocking herself with these jeering words, Erma Travenion goes in to meet Bishop Kruger and treat him with respect, if not cordiality--for now she fears him, not altogether for her father's sake but for her own, for in the last four days she has grown to feel that Kruger, Mormon fanatic and bishop, has an interest in her that is not all for Mother Church.