Because of a whim that seized her, she helped to prepare the breakfast that was to be served to the household at sunrise, and then she partook of it heartily, looking out of a southern window as she ate, watching the red sun ascend behind the naked boles of the elms.

She was glad that the new day had come.

Her heart ached not so much with pure grief now as with mocking laughter.
Her husband was mad, quite mad, or else--and this was the more bitter belief--he had seen that she was in danger of disaffection, and had told this lie to dupe her, thinking that because she was a woman she would be impressed by it.

As the sincerity of Angel's look came before her she said to herself that if that were the case no doubt Joseph Smith had invented the story, and laid it upon Angel's conscience to tell it.

That or madness was the only explanation..