And once more, but this time with paeans of mingled sorrow and rejoicing and songs of praise not unmixed with anxious future forebodings, the people prepared to take up the line of march backward to the deserted homes, to the grass-grown streets of Salt Lake City and to the sun-dried farms and fields of the northern Valley. The Southern Move was passing into the annals of a deeply engraved history.
XXVI.
COL. SAXEY EXPOSTULATES
The hurry, confusion and turmoil consequent upon packing were endured gladly by every one in Provo and vicinity, for every heart beat high with joy that their beloved lands and homes were not to be left behind once more and they themselves turned again into the desert, homeless and poor.
Diantha rode to the city with her brother in his spring wagon. As she sat on the front seat, she was soon covered with dust, and with the loss of her pink and white complexion came an appreciable decline in the thermometer of her generally sweet and cheerful disposition. No one ever accused Diantha of vanity, but there was nothing which made my dainty lady so thoroughly annoyed as to feel that she was looking ugly and commonplace; and above all to know that she was disheveled, disorderly, or unclean; all of which goes to prove that all are of the earth, earthy.
Ellen Tyler rode several teams behind Dian, in her father's wagon, the spring carriage being occupied by other members of the family. Now, no matter how dusty the road nor how much at a disadvantage dear little Ellen might be placed, if she were only treated lovingly and kindly by those she loved, and if she were sure of "one true heart beside her," as she herself put it, she was always cheerful and pleasant. And Ellen was in high feather, for John Stevens drove the wagon she was in, and the whole journey seemed more like a pleasure trip than a dusty two days' journey.
The party were toiling up the long and steep grade to the north of the village of Lehi, and John was out of the wagon, walking beside his team, whistling occasionally to his horses, and sometimes coming up to the wagon to hear the merry chatter of his companion. He had allowed himself to get some distance behind his team when he saw, in a sudden turn of the road, a small party of horsemen coming towards them, and as the dust cleared away, he discovered they were soldiers. He tried to hurry up so that he might be near or reach Ellen before they passed her, for instinct warned him that there was need, yet it was too late. As they passed him, he gazed at the dashing captain—for it was Captain Sherwood, his own despised enemy—to whom he gave a look of hate and repugnance. It was returned with a flash of sneering triumph.
The gay captain had cause to be triumphant.
As he passed by the long train of wagons, his eyes were eagerly searching each wagon for the two faces he had come out purposely to see. He hardly knew Diantha. He had seen her but once, and now the gold of her hair was a tawny clay, and the tiny curls were stiff with dust; while the enchanting pink and white of her skin was lost in a deep, sun-flushed crimson, covered over with the dun dust of the valley road.
As soon as he recognized her, however, and that only as they met face to face, he raised his cap with a courtly bow.