She had loved this uniformed murderer--his little Prue--perhaps borne him children, while he, Joel Rae, had been all too scrupulously true to her memory, fighting against even the pleased look at a woman; fighting--only the One above could know with what desperate valour--against the warm-hearted girl with the gray eyes and the red lips, who laughed in her knowledge that she drew him--fighting her away for a sentimental figment, until she had married another.
Now when he might have let himself turn to her, his heart freed of the image of that yellow-haired girl so long cherished, this other was the wife of Elder Pixley--the fifth wife--and an unloving wife as he knew.
She had sought him before the marriage, and there had been some wholly frank and simple talk between them.

It had ended by his advising her to marry Elder Pixley so that she might be saved into the Kingdom, and by her replying, with the old reckless laugh, a little dry and strained, and with the wonderful gray eyes full upon him,--"Oh, I'll marry him! Small difference to me what man of them I marry at all,--now!" And while he, by a mighty effort, had held down his arms and let her turn away, the woman for whose memory he did it was the wife of an enemy, caring nothing for his fidelity, sure to feel not more than amused pity for him should she ever know of it.

Surely, it had been a brave struggle--for nothing.
But again the saving thought came that he was being tried for a purpose, for some great work.

And now it seemed that the time of it must be near.
As to what it was there could be little question: it must be to free his people forever from Gentile aggression or interference.

Everything pointed to that.