When the Apostle asked me if I were willing that Elder Stenhouse should go to Italy, I answered “Yes,” though I felt as if my heart would break. I remembered that in my first transport of joy and gratitude after being baptized, I had made a covenant with the Lord that I would do anything which He might require of me; and I dared not rebel, or break that vow. Oh, the agony that fell upon my young heart! It seemed that the weight of a mountain rested upon it when I was told that my husband might be five years absent. He had already been five years a travelling elder without a home, trusting for daily bread to the voluntary kindness of the Saints. He had laboured faithfully, and looked forward to the day when his “Conference” should be established, and he could count upon an improvement in his temporal position, and an early call to emigrate to Zion. In the few months that I had been his wife, it was only natural that I should share his hopes; but just at the moment when they were about to be realized, hopes and expectations were scattered to the winds.
On the following day the Saints assembled, the Southampton Conference was organized, and Elder Stenhouse elected its president. Ten minutes later he was publicly appointed by the Apostle on a mission to Italy.
During the few days which intervened between the time when Elder Stenhouse received his appointment, to the hour of his departure, I enjoyed but little of his society. Arranging the affairs of the Conference which he was leaving, and preparation for his mission, fully occupied his attention. I do not think we either of us uttered a word, when alone together, respecting the future that was before us. It was probably better that we did not. There are moments of our life when silence is better than speech; and it is safer to trust in the mercy of God than to try to shape our own destiny.
The Saints are noted for the fraternal spirit which exists among them. There are, of course, exceptions; but, as a rule, every Mormon is willing to help his brother in the faith, acting upon the principle “One is your Master, even Christ: and all ye are brethren.” The Southampton Saints were no exception to this rule, but showed their kindness both to my husband and myself in a thousand little ways. I have spoken of my unhappiness during that week of preparation, but I must not forget that there were gleams of hope in the darkness. One occasion I shall never forget—a picnic which our friends held as a kind of valedictory feast in honour of the missionaries—of Elder Stenhouse in particular.
Right up the Southampton river, not far from Netley Abbey, is a pleasant and picturesque spot, named Bittern, which I need not too particularly describe, although the memory of its beauty recalls recollections of mingled sadness and pleasure to my mind. There my parents now lived, and thither it was proposed our friends should go. They could obtain all they needed for the picnic at my father’s house, and we could take our good things into the woods, and enjoy ourselves as we pleased. We had a very happy time; for the moment, even I forgot the cloud that was hanging over me; and our dear friends not only enjoyed themselves to the utmost, but seemed bent upon making the time pass pleasantly to every one else.
I had been talking to Sister White about the recent doings of the Saints, the establishment of the Conference and the sending away of Elder Stenhouse. I wanted Sister White, as in fact I wanted every one else, to think that I was perfectly happy in the separation, and that I counted my feelings as a wife as nothing when placed in the balance against my duty as a missionary; and I tried to impress upon her how proud I was that my husband should be the first English Elder entrusted with a foreign mission. We talked together a great deal. She was still quite a young woman, though married, and the mother of four darling little children; but probably she had a better experience than I had, and could see through my attempts to stifle my natural feelings, while at the same time she sympathized with me. She spoke very kindly to me; and as we talked, we wandered inadvertently away from the rest of the party. Suddenly she thought of her little boy, and, mother-like, thinking he might be in danger, ran off in search of him, promising to come back immediately.
I sat down upon the grass to await her return. I was somewhat excited by the conversation which had passed between us; but as I sat musing my agitation began to cool down, and I was soon lost in thought, and did not notice that I was not alone.
I did not hear the light footsteps near me, and did not see a little fairy friend, as I called her, pass between me and the sun. But a tiny hand was laid gently on my shoulder, and looking up I saw the loving eyes of Mary Burton looking straight down into mine.
“Where have you been, dear?” I asked. “Why, I have hardly seen you all the day.”