“But of course I could! Isn’t he tried in the Kingdom, so he is sure to have all those thrones and dominions and power?”
“But child, child! That old man with all his wives—”
“But they say old men are safer than young men. Young men are not tried in the Kingdom. I shouldn’t like a young husband anyway—they always want to play rough games, and pull your hair, and take things away from you, and get in the way.”
“But, baby,—don’t, don’t—”
“Why, you silly father, your voice sounds as if you were almost crying—please don’t hold me so tight—and some one must save me before the Son of Man comes to judge the quick and the dead; you know a woman can’t be saved alone. I think Bishop Wright would make a fine husband, and I should have Mattie Wright to play with every day.”
“And you would leave me?”
“Why, that’s so, Daddy! I never thought—of course I can’t leave my little sorry father—not yet. I forgot that. I couldn’t leave you. Now tell me about my mother again.”
He told her the story she already knew so well—how beautiful her mother was, the look of her hair and eyes, her slenderness, the music of her voice, and the gladness of her laugh.
“And won’t she be glad to see us again. And she will come before Christina and Lorena, because she was your first wife, wasn’t she?”
He was awake all night in a fever of doubt and rebellion. By the light of the candle, he read in the book of Mormon passages that had often puzzled but never troubled him until now when they were brought home to him; such as, “And now it came to pass that the people Nephi under the reign of the second king began to grow hard in their hearts, and indulged themselves somewhat in wicked practises, like unto David of old, desiring many wives—”