Chapter II

"Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that
soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he
that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life
everlasting."--_Gal. 6:7, 8_.

In the spirit world are Rupert, Signe, Henrik, Marie, Rachel and all our friends in their time and place. These are employed in joyous activity, as they see their field of usefulness continually widen. Rupert had done a great work before the others had come. He had preached the gospel to many people, mostly his ancestors, among whom there had been at the time of his arrival among them an awakening and a desire for the truth. He had traced his family back to those who on earth had been known as the Pilgrim Fathers, thence through many generations to the Norsemen of northern Europe. His wife's family he had also searched out, and he had discovered, greatly to his delight, that her family and his met in a sturdy, somewhat fierce, Viking chief. Rupert had sought him out, and had told him of Christ and His gospel--and the Viking had been willing to be taught. When Signe had come, Rupert had brought her to visit her many-times-great-grandmother, who was a beautiful flaxen-haired, blue-eyed woman, whom Signe herself somewhat resembled.

Then when Rupert met and became acquainted with Henrik, Marie, and Rachel, he told them of what he had done, and how that their vicarious work for the dead had fitted so nicely in with his preaching, in that many of those for whom they had been baptized were those whom he had converted. "We have been working in harmony and in conjunction," exclaimed Rupert, "and God's providence is even now clearly justified." What joy was there when Henrik and his friends met those for whom they had performed the necessary earthly rites! Many of these had long ago believed the gospel, and their hearts had been turned to their children--their descendants living on the earth--that they would remember their fathers who had gone before; and these were overjoyed when they met their "saviors," as they called them. Then, there were others who had not accepted the work done for them, and these were, naturally, not so enthusiastic in their greetings. Others there were who were yet in ignorance of Christ, of His plan of salvation, and the work that had been done for them. These would have to be taught and given a chance to accept or reject what had been done.

"You enjoy a happiness that does not come to me," said a brother to Henrik, "in that you receive the love and joyous greetings of those for whom you did work in mortality."

"Had you no opportunity to do such work?" asked Henrik.

"Yes; but I had no names of ancestry, and the truth is, I did not try to get any."

"You did not do all in your power?"

"No; I was careless in the matter."

"If you had only tried, the way would have been opened. That is a true principle. We do not know what regions of usefulness lie before us if we do no exploring."

Signe and Rachel were closely associated, and they performed missions together to their less enlightened sisters whose condition was not so favorable. These were of the frivolous and foolish women who had been taken captive by earthly things. All their treasures had been of earth, so on earth they had to be left, for none could be taken into the spirit world; these, therefore, were poor indeed. They had nothing with which to occupy themselves: in earth-life, wealth, fashion, the gratification of depraved appetites and passions, and the pampering of worldly vanities had been their chief concern; and now that earthly things were no more, these women were as if lost in a strange world, having no sure footing, groping about in semi-darkness, hungering and thirsting, but finding no means by which they might be satisfied. They laughed and appeared to make merry because it was their nature so to do, but their laugh was empty, and their merriment rang hollow and untrue.

"I am more than ever thankful," said Signe to Rachel when they had labored long with a group of frivolous women, "that the gospel reached us in earth-life."

"And that we accepted it," added Rachel.

"Yes; many of these sisters of ours are not evil; they are just weak,--empty of good. Their earthly training was at fault. And then some of them have told me that they were very much surprised to find that death had not worked a transformation in them: they have still the same feelings, desires and thoughts as before."

"Some foolish things were taught in earth-life," said Rachel, "one of them being deathbed repentance. Common sense, if not reason, ought to have told us that a change of heart coming when a person is in full possession of his faculties is far better than the confessions made in fear of death. Repentance should have come further back, for the sooner we turn about on the right way, the further we get on the road to perfection."

Rachel finished her little speech with a smile--the simple sweet smile, fixed into her nature for all time. A strange sister came up to her, who was greeted pleasantly.

"I want to know more of you two," she said. "There is something about you different from me or my mates. When you mix with us and talk with us, I can feel it, but I don't know what it is. You appear to me to be, lilies-of-the-valley among weeds--yes, that's it."

"And isn't a weed just a useful plant grown wild?" asked Signe. "All it needs is careful cultivation. Come with us as we walk along. We shall be pleased to talk with you. We are not very wise, but we may always ask the brethren who are wiser, for more light."

And so these three went slowly along the beautiful paths of spirit-land, conversing as they went. The hazel eyes of the brown-haired stranger opened in wide astonishment at what her sisters told her. Sometimes she asked questions, sometimes she shook her head in disbelief. She had been a "worldly" woman, she told them, never thinking that there would be any life other than the one she was living while on the earth; and so she had shaped her daily conduct by that narrow standard. Her earth-life had ended sadly, and existence had been bitter ever since, "Restless and hopeless, I have wandered for a long time," she said. "I have seen you two a number of times and have heard you talk to the women. Your words seemed to bring to me a glimpse of something better, but I never had the courage to speak to you until now."

Signe put her arms around her, drew her close, and kissed her cheek. "Let us do you all the good we can," she said. "We are going now to attend a meeting where my husband is to speak. Come with us."

Rachel linked her arm into that of the stranger's who willingly accompanied them. "Is your husband also a preacher?" she asked of Rachel.

"I have no husband," was the reply. "I did not--I mean, he did not find me, has not found me yet." Rachel was somewhat confused but she smiled as ever.

"She means," explained Signe, "that she did not marry while in earth-life, for the very good reason that she had no chance--"

"None such that I could accept," added Rachel. Then as the newly-found friend looked at her inquiringly, she continued:

"I have always believed, and I believe now, that I have a mate somewhere, but he has not yet been revealed. Frequently I asked the Lord about it in earth-life, and the answer by the spirit always was 'Wait, patiently wait'; so I am still waiting."

"And you still have faith," asked the stranger, "that the God of heaven will answer your prayers and bring about all things for the best?"

"Why, certainly."

"I wish I could believe that. Had I in earth life had some such belief to anchor to, perhaps I would not have made so many mistakes. I married twice, and they were both mistakes. The one chance I had of getting a man--I mean, one who does not belie the word--I threw away, because he was poor in worldly goods; but I suffered through my foolish errors.... I have heard of people praying about many things, but never have I heard of the Lord being asked about love affairs."

"That may be true," said Signe; "and it shows how foolish we were. Why should people importune the Lord about small trials and petty ailments, and at the same time neglect to ask His guidance on matters of love and marriage which make or mar one's life?"

There seemed to be no immediate answer to this query, so the three passed along in silence. Presently the newcomer spoke again:

"I am getting more light and hope since I associate with you two. I believe my faith is being kindled, and O, it feels so good to get a little firm footing."

"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--'

"'No; you did not love me. Love is pure--made purer by sorrow. Had you truly loved, you would not have sinned so grievously. Your sorrow needed to be repented of. Sorrow cannot be drowned in sin--no, no; go away. Please go; you frighten me.'

"The man stood rigid for some time, and the expression on his face was something terrible to see. The cold, clear truth had for the first time burst upon him to his convincing. He had a 'bright recollection of all his guilt,' and his torment was 'as a lake of fire and brimstone.' The woman, recovering somewhat from her fright, stood before him with innocent, clear-shining eyes, with half pity and half fear showing in her beautiful countenance--for the woman was beautiful. The man stood for a moment, which seemed a long time to all who witnessed the scene, then his head dropped, his form seemed to shrivel up as he slouched out of our company and disappeared from sight."

There was silence. Then Rupert added, "And yet some people tried to make us believe that there is no hell."

Rachel, even, forgot to ask further questions regarding the identity of the woman with hazel eyes and auburn hair, for just then Henrik and Marie appeared. With them was another woman, and the three were so preoccupied that they were oblivious to all others.

"You are too late for the meeting," said Rupert.

"I did intend to get there in time," replied Henrik, "but don't you see who is here?"

Rupert did not recognize the woman who stood by Marie with arms about each other, but Signe cried in joyous greeting, "Clara, Clara, is that you?"

"This is Clara," said Marie to Rupert, "she who came to Henrik after I left him,--who helped him so much, and who was so good to my children. She has just come, and has brought us much good news from them. I am so glad." Marie's arm drew tight around the newcomer as she kissed her cheek.

"I, also, am glad to welcome you," said Rupert. "Brother Henrik," he added, "your excuse for non-attendance at our meeting is accepted."