Adventure stories; Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories
Alas, I had to do as I was bid; this lady, to whom I already felt myself
drawn with the strongest cords of sympathy, I dismissed with insult; and
thenceforward, through all that day, I sat in silence, gazing on the bare
plains and swallowing my tears. Let that suffice: it was the pattern of
my journey. Whether on the train, at the hotels, or on board the ocean
steamer, I never exchanged a friendly word with any fellow-traveller but
I was certain to be interrupted. In every place, on every side, the most
unlikely persons, man or woman, rich or poor, became protectors to
forward me upon my journey, or spies to observe and regulate my conduct.
Thus I crossed the States, thus passed the ocean, the Mormon Eye still
following my movements; and when at length a cab had set me down before
that London lodging-house from which you saw me flee this morning, I had
already ceased to struggle and ceased to hope.
The landlady, like every one else through all that journey, was expecting
my arrival. A fire was lighted in my room, which looked upon the garden;
there were books on the table, clothes in the drawers; and there (I had
almost said with contentment, and certainly with resignation) I saw month
follow month over my head. At times my landlady took me for a walk or an
excursion, but she would never suffer me to leave the house alone; and I,
seeing that she also lived under the shadow of that widespread Mormon
terror, felt too much pity to resist. To the child born on Mormon soil,
as to the man who accepts the engagements of a secret order, no escape is
possible; so I had clearly read, and I was thankful even for this
respite. Meanwhile, I tried honestly to prepare my mind for my
approaching nuptials. The day drew near when my bridegroom was to visit
me, and gratitude and fear alike obliged me to consent. A son of Doctor
Grierson’s, be he what he pleased, must still be young, and it was even
probable he should be handsome; on more than that, I felt I dared not
reckon; and in moulding my mind towards consent I dwelt the more
carefully on these physical attractions which I felt I might expect, and
averted my eyes from moral or intellectual considerations. We have a
great power upon our spirits; and as time passed I worked myself into a
frame of acquiescence, nay, and I began to grow impatient for the hour.
At night sleep forsook me; I sat all day by the fire, absorbed in dreams,
conjuring up the features of my husband, and anticipating in fancy the
touch of his hand and the sound of his voice. In the dead level and
solitude of my existence, this was the one eastern window and the one
door of hope. At last, I had so cultivated and prepared my will, that I
began to be besieged with fears upon the other side. How if it was I
that did not please? How if this unseen lover should turn from me with
disaffection? And now I spent hours before the glass, studying and
judging my attractions, and was never weary of changing my dress or
ordering my hair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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