A few days after the arrival of the missionary in Geneva, an event occurred which interested my own self personally—my little Clara was born. Very happy was I when I looked upon her tiny little face for the first time, and kissed her for being the prettiest baby in the world; very happy was I when I folded her in my arms, and talked to her as if she could understand all that I said; very happy indeed, as I looked at her again and again, and marvelled whether she really could be, indeed and certainly, my own baby girl. It seemed as if baby’s papa would never come back again, but I had a companion now in my child; and weak and weary as I was, with new responsibilities and less power to help myself, I found comfort in my new care, and realized the truth of the old Scotch song:—
“Muckle lichter is the load
When luve bears up the creel.”
I was not now alone.
Then, too, came round to see me, Mary Burton. She was as fond and tender to me as ever, and tripped quietly about the room, and tried to wait upon me, and sat by the bed, playing with baby, calling her all the pretty things she could think of; and I felt that her presence brought new light and life to my room. She brought me another letter from my husband, and I found that he was now acquiring for himself the “gift” of the French tongue, unable to do much else, as he and everybody didn’t understand each other. He could not yet talk to the French-speaking Genevese; and the English-speaking residents would not listen to him; they had only heard of Mormonism as a clumsy fraud, and looked upon the prophet Joseph Smith as an impostor. So, for a whole winter, he sat shut up in his own room, poring over a French grammar, and deploring his hard fate in being denied the gift of tongues.
In the spring of the new year I received a distinguished visitor, who kindly interested himself in my welfare. The Apostle Lorenzo Snow left Piedmont for England, and passed through Geneva en route. On his way to London he called upon me at Southampton, and expressed much sympathy for me. He noticed the change in my appearance, and immediately sent for Mr. Stenhouse to return to England. He acted very kindly by me at that time; did all that he could to assist me, and said that he never again would ask any man to make such a sacrifice. I fully appreciated all his kindness; but much as I wanted to, I did not venture to ask him about the truth or falsity of those terrible suggestions which I had heard whispered of late.
My husband hastened home, coming by way of Calais, in order to meet his president and receive his instructions. The Apostle showed much sympathy for him, and very early in the morning accompanied him some miles to the railway station; but he never once mentioned how I had been situated in Southampton until he left him, and then he exacted from him a promise not to open his lips whatever he might learn.
I need not say that I was happy to see my husband once again, and to present to him his little daughter, who was now five months old. He was, of course, soon busy in visiting the Saints, and he received from them many tokens of attachment.
In the beginning of June a General Conference of the branches of the Church in Britain was held in London. The Apostles and foreign missionaries were present, and my husband and I were also there. We had speeches and prayers. The business of the Conference occupied but very few minutes, for no measure was questioned. Among the Mormons there are no opinions, no discussion. The presiding head has made out his programme before he comes to the Conference; he knows what he wants to do, and no one ever questions him. He may perhaps for form’s sake invite the brethren to speak on any point he introduces; but when he has furnished the clue to his wishes, the Elders who speak only spend their time in arguments in favour of his measures. At the Conference of which I speak the reports of the native elders were very cheering to us. Throughout England and Wales they had been most successful in adding members to the Church. Mormonism was then most successfully preached in Britain. There were more Mormons there than in all Utah Territory: there were fifty Conferences, with over seven hundred organized “branches,” and more than six thousand men ordained to the priesthood. That peculiar influence which the Mormons call “the Spirit,” of which I have spoken elsewhere, was spoken of by the Elders as being a common experience everywhere.
During all that Conference I listened carefully for a word from the lips of any of the speakers which might indicate in any way that Polygamy was part of the Mormon faith; but not a whisper, not a hint, was uttered. I naturally concluded that the Elders, whose doubtful expressions at Southampton had so troubled my mind, were misinformed or unsafe men. Still I could not altogether banish my apprehension of coming evil; but so bound to secrecy were those who did know of Polygamy being practised in Utah, that there was not one who would admit it, and even my own husband’s lips were sealed to me. He did not deny it, but he would not talk about it, and did everything he could to banish the thought from my mind.