“She did accept him?”
“Yes—but now comes the strange part of the story. All I have told you is but a common tale, and the like occurs every day in the year.”
“Go on!”
“When she married the Mormon, she did not know he was a Mormon; and it appears that these hereticos have a name among your people worse than the very Judios. It was only after the caravan had got out into the plains, that the girl made this discovery. Another circumstance equally unpleasant soon came to her knowledge; and that was: that the man who pretended to be her husband was after all no husband—that he did not act to her as a husband should do—in short, that the marriage had been a sham—the ceremony having been performed by some Mormon brother, in the disguise of a clerico!”
“Was the girl’s father aware of this deception!”
“Don José could not tell. He may have known that the man was a Mormon; but Don José was of opinion that the father himself was betrayed by the false marriage—though he was present at it, and actually bestowed the bride!”
“Strange!”
“Perhaps, cavallero! the strangest is yet to come. For what purpose, do you suppose, was this deception practised upon the poor girl?”
“I cannot guess—go on!”
“Carrai! it was a hellish purpose; but you shall hear it. These Mormons have at their head a great chief priest—una propheta, as they call him. He is a polygamist—a perfect Turco—and keeps a harem of beautiful niñas, who pass under the name of ‘spiritual wives.’ It was only after the young Americana had got far out upon the plains—indeed, to the Big Timbers, where she escaped from him—that she found out the terrible fate for which her false husband had designed her. She learnt it from the other women who accompanied the caravan; and who, base wretches that they were! rather envied her the honour by which she was to be distinguished! Por Dios! a terrible fate for a young creature innocent and virtuous like her!”