Beck Center English Dept. University Libraries Emory University
Emory Women Writers Resource Project Collections:
Emory Women Writers Resource Project

My Queen, an electronic edition

by Sandette [Walsh, Marie A.]

date: 1878
source publisher: G. W. Carleton & Co., Publishers; S. Low, Son & Co.
collection: Genre Fiction

Table of Contents

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CHAPTER XXX.
TWO PICTURES AND TWO PRAYERS.

THE young moon shed a silvery radiance upon the green meadows, the crystal streamlets and the white-canopied wagons of the corral. Within, reigned the silence of sorrow and despair. There was nothing more to discuss, to plan, nothing to hope. Surrounded by fierce foes, none to help, no escape; nothing was left them but death. Oh! it was hard; young, strong, rich, loved and happy, to bid adieu to their dreams, their hopes.

But death was not the worst. Captivity and torture confronted them, and the bravest quailed. Tiny, innocent hands were raised towards heaven, and childish tongues lisped prayers for father and mother. Youths and maidens knelt in suppliance, and men with bowed heads silently repeated the earnest petitions of wives and mothers, who all through the night wept and prayed: "Father in Heaven, save us!"

* * * * * * *

Under the withered trees at the northern extremity of the valley, a camp-fire glowed. Dusky, tattoed savages crouched around, or moved stealthily to and fro seeking food for the fire, whose flames leaped and writhed, now gleaming on the dusky faces and snaky locks of the red men, now lending a weird life to the mis-shapen rocks and gnarled cedars whose skeleton arms seemed eager to clutch the forms beneath.

At a little distance a band of pale-faces were exhorting and gesticulating. In their center was Delville.

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"Saints of the Latter Days," he cried, "no more shrinking. The enemies of God must perish. The murderers of our prophet must die. Death to the murderers of the Saints! Let their riches be given to the children of God. Not a drop of innocent blood shall stain your hands. Our brethren, the Lamanites, will attend to that. Will you not, my children?" For answer, the savages flourished their tomahawks, leaped for joy, and were about to yell triumphantly, when Silvertung, always wary, said:

"Hush, my children; no noisy demonstrations. You will betray us to the Gentile. Be ready tomorrow."

"Yes, be ready to-morrow; you understand the plan," exclaimed one who seemed to be the leader. "At the cry, 'Do your duty,' remember. And now, brethren, let us pray to the Lord to guide and strengthen our arms, that His enemies may be all destroyed."

"Amen," responded the white saints. They knelt in prayer; the red savages looked on in wonder.

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