He was floating--floating midway between a cold, bleak heaven of denial and a luring h.e.l.l of consent; floating recklessly, as if careless to which his soul should go.

His gaze was once more upon her face, and now, in a curiously cool little second of observation, he saw mirrored there the same conflicting duality that he knew raged within himself. In her eyes glowed the pure flame of fear and protest--but on her mad lips was the curl of provocation. And as the man in him had waited carelessly, in a sensuous luxury of unconcern, for his soul to go where it might--far up or far down--so now the woman waited before him in an incurious, unbia.s.sed calm--the clear eyes with their grave, stern "_No_!"--the parted lips all but shuddering out their "_Yes_!"

Still he looked and still the leaning woman waited--waited to welcome with impartial fervour the angel or the devil that might come forth.

And then, as he lay so, there started with electric quickness, from some sudden coldness of recollection, the image of Prue. Sharp and vivid it shone from this chill of truth like a glittering star from the clean winter sky outside. Prue was before him with the tender blue of her eyes and the fleecy gold of her hair and her joy of a child--her little figure shrugging and nestling in his arms in happy faith--calling as she had called to him that morning--"_Joel--Joel--Joel_!"

He shivered in this flood of cold, relentless light, yet unflinchingly did he keep his face turned full upon the truth it revealed.

And this was now more than the image of the sweetheart he had sworn to cherish--it was also the image of himself vowed to his great mission. He knew that upon neither of these could he suffer a blemish to come if he would not be forever in agony. With appalling clearness the thing was lined out before him.

The woman at his side stirred and his eyes were again upon her. At once she saw the truth in them. Her parted lips came together in a straight line, shutting the red fulness determinedly in. Then there shone from her eyes a glad, sweet welcome to the angel that had issued.

His arms seemed to sicken, falling limply from her. She arose without speaking, and busied herself a little apart, her back to him.

He sat up on the couch, looking about the little room curiously, as one recovering consciousness in strange surroundings. Then he began slowly to pull on the wet boots that she had placed near the fire.

When he stood up, put on his coat, and reached for his hat, she came up to him, hesitating, timid.

"You are so cold! If you would only stay here--I am afraid you will be sick."

He answered very gently:

"It is better to go. I am strong again, now."

"I would--I would not be near you--and I am afraid for you to go out again in the cold."

He smiled a little. "_Nothing_ can hurt me now--I am strong."

He opened the door, breathing his fill of the icy air that rushed in. He stepped outside, then turned to her. She stood in the doorway, the light from the room melting the darkness about them.

They looked long at each other. Then in a sudden impulse of grat.i.tude, of generous feeling toward her, he put out his arm and drew her to him.

She was cold, impa.s.sive. He bent over and lightly kissed her closed, unresponding lips. As he drew away, her hand caught his wrist for a second.

"I'm _glad_!" she said.

He tried to answer, but could only say, "Good night, Mara!"

Then he turned, drew the wide collar of his coat well up, and went down the narrow path through the snow. She stood, framed in the light of the doorway, leaning out to look after him until he was lost in the darkness.

As she stepped back and closed the door, a man, who had halted by a tree in front of the next house when the door first opened, walked on again.

It had been a great day, but, for one cause or another, it came near to being one of the last days of the man who had made it great.

Late the next afternoon, Joel Rae was found in his cabin by a messenger from Brigham. He had presumably lain there unattended since the night before, and now he was delirious and sick unto death; raving of the sins of the Saints, and of his great work of reformation. So tenderly sympathetic was his mind, said those who came to care for him, that in his delirium he ranked himself among the lowest of sinners in Zion, imploring them to take him out and bury him in the waters of baptism so that he might again be worthy to preach them the Word of G.o.d.

He was at once given every care, and for six weeks was not left alone night or day; the good mothers in Israel vying with each other in kindly offices for the sick Elder, and the men praying daily that he might not be taken so soon after his great work had begun.

The fifth wife of Elder Pixley came once to sit by his bedside, but when she heard him rave of some great sin that lay black upon his soul, beseeching forgiveness for it while the tears rained down his fevered face, she had professed that his suffering sickened her so she could not stay. Thereafter she had contented herself with inquiring at his door each day--until the day when they told her that the sickness was broken; that he was again rational and doubtless would soon be well. After that she went no more; which was not unnatural, for Elder Pixley was about to return from his three years' mission abroad, and there was much to do in the community-house in preparation for the master's coming.

But the long sickness of the young Elder did not in any manner stay the great movement he had inaugurated. From that first Sunday the reformation spread until it had reached every corner of the new Zion.

The leaders took up the accusing cry,--the Elders, Bishops, High Priests, and Counsellors. Missionaries were appointed for the outlying settlements, and meetings were held daily in every center, with a general renewing of covenants.

Brigham, who had warmly seconded Joel Rae's opening discourse, was now, not unnaturally, the leader of the reformation, and in his preaching to the Saints while Joel Rae lay sick he committed no faults of vagueness.

For profane swearing he rebuked his people: "You Elders in Israel will go to the canons for wood, get a little brush-whipped, and then curse and swear--d.a.m.n and curse your oxen and swear by Him who created you.

You rip and curse as bad as any pirates ever did!"

For the sin of cattle-stealing he denounced them. A fence high enough to keep out cattle-thieves, he told them, must be high enough to keep out the Devil.

Sometimes his grievance would have a personal basis, as when he told them: "I have gone to work and made roads to the canon for wood; and I have cut wood down and piled it up, and then I have not got it. I wonder if any of you can say as much about the wood I have left there. I could tell stories of Elders that found and took my wood that should make professional thieves blush. And again I have proof to show that Bishops have taken thousands of pounds of wheat in t.i.thing which they have never reported to the general t.i.thing-office,--proof that they stole the wheat to let their friends speculate upon."

Under this very pointed denunciation many of the flock complained bitterly. But Brigham only increased the flow of his wrath upon them.

"You need," said he, "to have it rain pitchforks, tines downward, from this pulpit, Sunday after Sunday."

Still there were rebellious Saints to object, and, as Brigham drew the lines of his wrath tighter, these became more prominent in the community. When they voiced their discontent, they angered the priesthood. But when they indicated their purpose to leave the valley, as many soon did, they gave alarm. An exodus must be prevented at any cost, and so the priesthood let it be known that migrations from the valley would be considered as nothing less than apostasy. In Brigham's own words: "The moment a person decides to leave this people, he is cut off from every object that is desirable in time or eternity. Every possession and object of affection will be taken from those who forsake the truth, and their ident.i.ty will eventually cease."

But, as the reform wave swept on, it became apparent that these words had been considered merely figurative by many who were about to seek homes outside the valley. From every side news came privately that this family or that was preparing to leave.

And so it came about that the first Sunday Joel Rae was able to walk to the tabernacle, still weak and wasted and trembling, he heard a sermon from Brigham which made him question his own soul in an agony of terror.

For, on this day, was boldly preached, for the first time in Zion, something which had never before been more than whispered among the highest elect,--the doctrine of blood-atonement--of human sacrifice.

"I am preaching St. Paul, this morning," began Brigham, easily.

"Hebrews, Chapter ix., and Verse 22: 'And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission.'

Also, and more especially, first Corinthians, Chapter v., Verse 5: 'To deliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.' Remember these words of Paul's. The time has come when justice will be laid to the line and righteousness to the plummet; when we shall take the old broadsword, and ask, 'Are you for G.o.d?' And if you are not heartily on the Lord's side, you will be hewn down."

There was a rustling movement in the throng before him, and he paused until it subsided.

"I tell you there are men and women amongst you who ought to come and ask me to select a place and appoint a committee to shed their blood.

Only in that way can they be saved, for water will not do. Their sins are too deep for that. I repeat--there are covenant-breakers here, and we need a place set apart and men designated to shed their blood for their own salvation. If any of you ask, do I mean you, I answer yes. We have tried long enough with you, and now I shall let the sword of the Almighty be unsheathed, not only in words but in deed. I tell you there are sins for which men cannot otherwise receive forgiveness in this world nor in the world to come; and if you guilty ones had your eyes opened to your true condition, you would be willing to have your blood spilt upon the ground that the smoke thereof might go up to heaven for your sins. I know when you hear this talk about cutting people off from the earth you will consider it strong doctrine; but it is to save them, and not destroy them. Take a person in this congregation who knows the principles of that kind of life and sees the beauties of eternity before him compared with the vain and foolish things of the world--and suppose he is overtaken in a gross fault which he knows will rob him of that exaltation which he desires and which he now cannot obtain without the shedding of his blood; and suppose he knows that by having his blood shed he will atone for that sin and be saved and exalted with the G.o.ds.

Is there a man or woman here but would say, 'Save me--shed my blood, that I may be exalted.' And how many of you love your neighbour well enough to save him in that way? That is what Christ meant by loving our neighbours as ourselves. I could refer you to plenty of instances where men have been righteously slain to atone for their sin; I have seen scores and hundreds of people for whom there would have been a chance in the last day if their lives had been taken and their blood spilt upon the ground as a smoking incense to the Almighty, but who are now angels to the Devil because it was not done. The weakness and ignorance of the nations forbids this law being in full and open force; yet, remember, if our neighbour needs help we must help him. If his soul is in danger we must save it.

"Now as to our enemies--apostates and Gentiles--the tree that brings not forth good fruit shall be hewn down. 'What,' you ask, 'do you believe that people would do right to put these traitors to death?' Yes! What does the United States government do with traitors? Examine the doings of earthly governments on this point and you will find but one practise universal. A word to the wise is enough; just remember that there are sins that the blood of a lamb, of a calf, or of a turtle-dove, cannot remit."

Under this discourse Joel Rae sat terrified, with a bloodless face, cowering as he had made others to cower six weeks before. The words seemed to carry his own preaching to its rightful conclusion; but now how changed was his world!--a whirling, sickening chaos of sin and remorse.

As he listened to Brigham's words, picturing the blood of the sinner smoking on the ground, his thoughts fled back to that night, that night of wondrous light and warmth, the last he could remember before the great blank came.

Now the voice of Brigham came to him again: "And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission!"

Then the service ended, and he saw Bishop Wright pushing toward him through the crowd.

"Well, well, Brother Rae you do look peaked, for sure! But you'll pick up fast enough, and just in time, too. Lord! what won't Brother Brigham do when the Holy Ghost gets a strangle-holt on him? Now, then," he added, in a lower tone, "if I ain't mistaken, there's going to be some work for the Sons of Dan!"

CHAPTER XV.