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."

"Sit down on this rock," said he, "while I tell you something. Here's my
overcoat." He made a seat for her and he stood by her side.

"Signe, nearly six years ago, I stood here on this spot. I was the owner
of the farm that you see. In fact, I dug this ditch. I set out that
orchard, I planned and built the reservoir that has made all this
possible; and then I stood here, and in the pride of my heart I said:
'All this is mine. I have done it all.' Now I understand that God put me