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Show The Chimney ,og "My Anna," the Swede said, tears on his face now. "My Anna, she loved me. She said that she would marry me when we talked by the rail of the ship. My Anna who is not here. I ask my Bishop i f I can go to the temple where we work for the dead and marry with her. She promised to be my bride." "Anna promised to be my bride, too," the stranger whispered, suddenly mesmerized by the dim l i g h t , the lace, the monotone of the storyteller who spun strange tales. "Anna promised me under the North Star when we were baptized together." The blue eyes widened as i f they were the backdrop for the northern sky. "And now she sits primly in her parlor in New Canaan," Langley murmured, almost to himself, but somehow glad to give voice to his containment. "My Anne who wants me to be what I am not, who accepts nothing but the best aspects of my surface. She would not tolerate my withdrawal from the Seminary and would only assume the worst as my reason for doing so." "You come to Zion and you w i l l find peace." "No, no religion please. I need a rest." "Anna." The Swede had cradled the Grecian statue into his arms and was stroking her molded surface, a finger on the tinted ceramic cheeks. "She died," he said, rocking his arms slightly. "The Bishop, he t e l ls me to let her rest. He t e l ls me to find a couple of strong, young wives to help me build the stairs and the Kingdom, as Brother Brigham says." " I am sorry, s i r . I truly am." The Swede went to a bureau and pulled a brass loop hanging from a brass lion's mouth. He moistened his finger with his tongue and separated a sheet of |