One more winter passed; and when nature had spread her robe of green over Chamogo valley, preparations were made for the ceremony that would make Rupert and Signe husband and wife.  Rupert longed to see Willowby and Dry Bench once more, so it was decided that after they had visited the Temple of God and had been sealed to each other for time and all eternity, they would take a trip to Rupert’s old home.  They were married in the Temple.  Within its sacred walls they experienced more fully than ever before what still sweetness there is in the ministrations of the Spirit of God.

They reached Willowby late in September.  He had written Nina when he would be there, and she and her husband were at the station to meet them.

There were tears in their eyes at the meeting.

“Nina, this is my wife,” said Rupert.  “Signe, my sister, Mrs. Furns.”

A number of Rupert’s old friends were there who now came forward and welcomed him home.

Then they rode through the valley behind two spirited grays.  Nina had not changed much, but she declared that had she met her brother on the street, she would not have known him.

“What has changed you so, brother?” asked she.

“Experience, Nina, experience with the world I have lived a long time in the two and a half years that I have been away—­but never mind that now.  Everything looks the same hereabouts.  I seem to have been absent but a few days.  How strange it is!  Signe, there you see Willowby, on that rise; quite a town yet.  How’s Dry Bench, James?”

“Much the same, Rupe.  No improvements since you left.”

“And the reservoir?”

“As you left it, though it needs repairing badly.”

In the few moments of silence that followed, Rupert contrasted his condition now with what it was when he left the place.  What a change!  He was wiser if not much older.  And then he had a wife—­and he looked lovingly at her as he thought of all she had done for him.  As they drove into town, friends greeted him and seemed pleased at his return.  Married?  Yes; that is his wife.  Not so dashing as Miss Wilton, but far more charming, was the general expression.

That evening there was quite a social gathering at Nina’s.

Early next morning, before others of the household were astir, Rupert and Signe went up to Dry Bench.  A beautiful morning greeted them.  They walked up towards the hill that they might get a good view of the farm, and when they turned, Dry Bench was before them.  The trees had grown, but otherwise it was the same scene that he had looked upon many and many a time.  The memory of a particular morning came to him—­the morning when Miss Wilton’s horse had run away.  Miss Wilton had never been heard of since she left Willowby.

“How beautiful!” exclaimed Signe.  “Do you know, Rupert, it reminds me of a scene in Norway.  I must make a sketch here before we leave.”