Susannah was not in the habit of going to bed till her husband returned.  One night, after twelve had struck, while she sat warming the dimpled feet of her restless babe at the rosy fire-light, she was greatly astonished to hear a tapping, low but distinct, on a window that opened to the back of the house.  She lifted her head as mother animals prick their ears above their young at the faint sound of any danger.

After an interval the tap was repeated; it was no accidental noise.  Susannah laid the child in its cradle and went nearer the window shutters, hesitating.

She knew only too well that this secrecy was the sign of some one’s dire distress.  She knew the habits of the people; a neighbour’s aid was sought freely and with confidence; doors were open at all times to need or social intercourse.

To her intent listening the accents of a low and guarded tone came in reply to her challenge; the voice was Joseph Smith’s.

Susannah looked with anguish toward her child’s cradle.  Had some army of mad persecutors invested Kirtland?  Nothing less than fierce persecution could be thus heralded.

For years Susannah had known Smith as a near neighbour, and the stuff of which the man was at this time made is indicated by the fact that instinctively she opened the window with noiseless haste.

Smith climbed in.  “Has Halsey returned?”

The fire gave the only light in the room.  Smith did not shut the window, but remained sitting on the sill.  A bake-house at the back hid the place from neighbouring eyes.

“It’s all up with our bank,” said Smith.

“I feared so,” said Susannah.

“The apostates took such a lot of money out of it.  No bank anywhere in this region could have stood it.  You have always been down on our management of the bank, Mrs. Halsey, but if it was not good, why then have so many of the Gentiles put in their money, and why have they taken our notes all over the State?”

“You never had the capital you advertised.”

“We have land that stands for it.”

“It is not worth half what you value it at.”

Then Susannah became sorry for her sharp recrimination.  Punishment had befallen; it was a time for mutual help, not for reproach.  She saw that although Smith kept himself calm he was greatly stirred.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

Smith’s huge frame was poised awkwardly on the window sill.  He moved restlessly and touched one thing and another with nervous hands.  Then he said with a short laugh, “The size of it is, I’m running away, Mrs. Halsey.  Ye may think I feel pretty mean, but ye’ll do me the justice just to think how it is.  If they’d shoot me in fair fight, I’d go and, if it were the Lord’s will, be shot to-morrow, and be thankful too; but ye know the sort of vengeance they’ll take.  I have been beaten time and again before now, and covered with pitch, and I’ve been knocked down and kicked and ducked in ponds a good many times, as ye know, and I ain’t ashamed to say that I’m afraid of that sort of thing and afraid of the results on Emmar and the children.  If the Lord clearly told that ’twas his will to stay and stand it, why then I’d have no choice, but I haven’t had no word from the Lord.”