“I told him he didn’t know you.”
“Who didn’t know me, sir?”
“A man who said I wasn’t sure of you.”
“So you are sure of me, are you, Mr. Preacherman? Is it because we’ve been sweethearts since so long? But remember you’ve been much away. I’ve seen you—let me count—but one little time of two weeks in three years. You would go on that horrid mission.”
“Is not religion made up of obedience, let life or death come?”
“Is there no room for loving one’s sweetheart in it?”
“One must obey, and I am a better man for having denied myself and gone. I can love you better. I have been taught to think of others. I was sent to open up the gospel in the Eastern States because I had been endowed with almost the open vision. It was my call to help in the setting up of the Messiah’s latter-day kingdom. Besides, we may never question the commands of the holy priesthood, even if our wicked hearts rebel in secret.”
“If you had questioned the right person sharply enough, you might have had an answer as to why you were sent.”
“What do you mean? How could I have questioned? How could I have rebelled against the stepping-stone of my exaltation?”
His face relaxed a little, and he concluded almost quizzically: