“Yes, dear sister,” said Rachel.  “The tangled threads of earth-life are not all straightened out yet.  It will take time, and we must have patience.”

Arriving at the place of meeting, the three women took positions near the platform upon which the speakers sat.  Rupert was the principal speaker.  He began by telling his listeners something about his experiences in earth-life.  He spoke of his boyhood days, of the trials and difficulties he had encountered, and how near he had come to being lost to all good.  Then he told how the Lord had rescued him, and brought him to a knowledge of the gospel of salvation.  “And the Lord’s chief instrument in this work of rescue,” the speaker said, “was a beautiful, good woman, who became my wife.  O, you women, what power you have for good or evil!  See to it that you use your powers for the purposes of good.”

Rachel smiled at Signe while they listened, for Rupert’s and Signe’s story was quite familiar to her.  All the time Rupert had been speaking, the woman who had come with them sat as if spellbound, her big eyes fixed on the speaker.  When Rupert closed, Signe said to her friend: 

“That is my husband.  Let us go up to him; he will be glad to meet you.”

But the woman drew back as if afraid.  “I can’t,” she whispered.  “Forgive me, but I must go”—­and with a faint cry she retreated and disappeared in the crowd, the two women looking after in wonder and astonishment.

Just then Rupert stepped up to them.  Seeing their wonder, he asked the reason.  Signe explained.

“I think I can guess who it was,” said Rupert.  “Well, well,” he murmured as if to himself, “I had nearly forgotten her.”

“Yes, I believe it was she,” added Signe.

“Was who?” inquired Rachel.

But Rupert stopped any reply that his wife might wish to make by interrupting with: 

“I saw an impressive sight not long ago—­Come let us be getting on our way home, and I shall tell it to you.”

They were willing to listen as they journeyed.  “We were out,” began Rupert—­“a brother and I—­getting some information needed in one of the temples on earth for a brother who had gone as far as he could with his genealogy.  As we were talking to a group of sisters a man rushed in upon us.  With quick, eager words he asked us if we had seen someone whom he named and described.  At the sight of him, one of the women shrunk back as if to hide in the crowd, but he saw her, and exclaimed: 

“‘Is that you?  Yes—­Oh, have I found you at last!’”

“The sister put forth her hand as if to ward him off, as he pressed through the crowd to her.  ‘How did you get here?’ she asked.  ’Keep away—­you are unclean—­keep away.’

“He paused in some astonishment at this reception.  Then he pleaded with her to let him accompany her; but she retreated from him, crying, ’You are unclean; do not touch me.’

“‘Yes,’ he acknowledged, ’I suppose I have been a sinner; but listen to my justification:  I sinned to drown my sorrow when you died.  I, also, wanted to die.  My heart was broken—­I could not stand it—­it was because I loved you so—­’