She looked up at him in astonishment; the expression of his face was peaceful and kindly.  “Then why do you go about preaching and saying—­”

“I hain’t got nothing to do with that at all.  If an angel comes from heaven and gives me a partic’lar revelation, calling me by name, namely, ‘Joseph Smith, Junior,’ tain’t for me to say he’s made a mistake and come to the wrong man, though goodness knows I hev said it to the Lord often enough; but now I’ve come to see that it’s my business just to do what I’m told.  But as to the low ways I hed—­why, I’ve repented and give them up, and as to the education, I’m trying to get that, but it won’t come in a minute.”

Her conscience was not at rest; to be silent was like telling a lie, and from motives of fear, too!  At length she burst out, “I don’t believe you ever saw an angel, Mr. Smith.  I think it’s very wicked of you to have made it up, and about the gold Bible too.”

They were still half a mile from the nearest house.  Susannah gasped.  When she had spoken her defiance she realised that if she had nothing worse to fear, she at least deserved to be left alone among the raging elements.  She staggered somewhat, expecting a rebuff.

“I guess you’d better take my arm,” he said.  “It ain’t no sort of a day for a woman to be out.”

When she hesitated, flushed and frightened, a smile came for the first time across his face.  “You’re almost beat back by the wind.  It won’t hurt you to grip hold of my sleeve, you know, even if I am a thundering big liar.  I don’t know as I can expect you to believe anything else.  Emmar didn’t for a long time, but then, after a spell, she gave up all the comforts of her father’s house just to stand by me, and no one’s ever had a word to say against Emmar.”

They stopped at a farmhouse on the outskirts of the village.

Smith had said to Susannah, “There’s a gentleman I know stopping at Sharon Peck’s.  I’ll pass the umbrellar on to him, and he’ll take you home.  He’s been a Quaker, but I guess you’ll find him a pretty nice young gentleman.  Mrs. Peck, she isn’t to home.”

He left Susannah standing upon the lee side of a wooden house amid treeless fields.  The eaves sheltered her.  She stooped down and with both hands wrung the water from her skirts.  She was busy over this when the promised escort joined her.

The remnants of his forsaken Quakerism hung around him; his coat was buff, his hat straight in the brim, his manner prim, and when he spoke it was in the speech of his people.  His complexion was very light, hair, eyebrows and lashes, and the down on his chin—­almost flaxen; his face was browned by exposure to the weather, but so well formed that Susannah found him very good to look upon, the features pointed and delicate, but not without strength.

“Thou wilt walk as far as thy home with me?” he asked.

He held Smith’s huge umbrella, but he did not hold it with the same strength, nor did he show the same skill in keeping it against the wind.