Added Upon Part 12

They all smiled at that. Signe again turned the leaves of her Bible.

"Read here," said she.

This time it was the first chapter of St. John. He read the first fourteen verses.

"Dat vil do; now read here." She returned to the sixth chapter, sixty-second verse, and he read:

"What and if ye see the Son of man ascend up to where He was before."

She turned to another. It was the twenty-eighth verse of chapter sixteen:

"I came forth from the Father, and am come into the world: again, I leave the world and go to the Father."

Still she made him read one more, the fifth verse of the seventeenth chapter:

"And now, O Father, glorify thou me with thine own self with the glory which I had with thee before the world was."

"Now, vat does it all mean, Mr. Ames?"

"I see your point, Miss Dahl. Christ certainly existed as an intelligent being before He came to this earth--yes, even before the world was."

"Certainly; our Savior vas himself as ve. He vas born, He had a body as ve, and He also had a spirit. G.o.d is de Fader of His spirit and it existed long ago, as you said. Christ is our Elder Broder. Ve are of de same family. If He existed before de vorld, why not ve? Dat's right, isn't it?"

"But couldn't Christ have been the only one who had a pre-existence? I believe something is said in your book about the Savior being the only begotten of the Father."

"Yes, in de flesh; dat is true, but G.o.d is de Fader of all spirits who have come to dis world to take a body. I can find you many pa.s.sages to prove it."

"Well, I have never thought of these things before, but it must be true if the Bible means what it says. That's a grand principle, Mr. Janson."

"It certainly is, Mr. Ames. Many people object to it; but I cannot see, if we are to exist in a spiritual state after we leave this body, why we could not have existed before we entered it--but Signe, here, is the preacher. Her only trouble is with the w's and th's. She can't get them right yet."

Signe smiled. "No, Mr. Ames, I'm no preacher. It's all so plain to me.

De Bible says ve have a Fader in heaven, and I believe it. I also believe ve have 'a moder der,' as de song says. I can't prove it from de book, but I just use my reason on dat."

It was a new experience for Rupert to hear a fair lady expound such doctrine. The whole thing charmed him, both the speaker and that which was spoken. A new light seemed to dawn upon him. What if this life was but a school, anyway, into which eternal souls were being sent to be proved, to be taught.

"Have you any other quotations on the subject?

"Oh, yes; it is full," said she. "When you get time read Heb. 12:9, Jer. 1:4-5, Eph. 1:3-5 and John 9:1-3. I do not remember more now."

Rupert took them down, and read them that night before he went to bed.

And each day he saw a new horizon; and the sweet-faced Norwegian was not the least factor in this continued change of mental vision. "G.o.d bless her," he said to himself, "G.o.d has sent her to me for a purpose;" and he began to add to his prayers that he might so live that he would be worthy of the blessings which, seemingly, were coming his way.

IX.

"Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone"--_James 2:17._

Chamogo Valley lies on the edge of the great arid region of America. At the time of Rupert Ames' arrival in the valley, full crops were never certain, and during some years, rain was so scarce that there were no crops at all. The Chicago real estate dealer who had sold Mr. Janson his land had not enlightened him on this fact, and so he had already lost the best part of two years' work by failure of crops. Rupert Ames learned of all this from Mr. Janson, and then he wondered why advantage was not taken of the stream in the bottom of the valley for irrigation purposes.

One day--it was near the end of the harvest, and they were pitting their last potatoes--Rupert asked Mr. Janson if the adjoining lands could be bought.

"Why, yes," was the reply. "I was offered nearly the whole valley for a small sum, but I have all the land I care to handle. You see, this region would be different if we could rely on the moisture, but we can't, and I am nearly tired of it myself. Do you want to buy me out?"

This with a laugh.

"Can you raise money enough to buy this whole valley?" asked Rupert seriously.

"Yes; I could get it."

"Then I am going to propose something to you."

Whereupon Rupert pointed out that the rich bench lands on each side of the river could be brought under cultivation, and crops secured every year by bringing the water from the stream in ca.n.a.ls, and watering, or irrigating them. Mr. Janson listened with wonder at Rupert's description of Dry-bench reservoir, and how simple it would be to construct ca.n.a.ls by which to water Chamogo valley.

"This valley can be made to support a good-sized population," said Rupert. "By securing the land and digging ca.n.a.ls to it, and then selling it out in farms again--well, if you don't make a hundred per cent on your investment, I am mistaken."

They had many talks on the scheme, and at last it was decided to try it.

Rupert would supervise the construction of the ca.n.a.ls. He would remain during the winter, do what work could be done before the snow came, and then continue the work in the spring.

The land was secured at a small outlay. The ca.n.a.l was surveyed and a little digging was done that fall. When the snow came, Rupert rode twenty-one miles to the county seat, took the teachers' examination, received a certificate, and obtained the Chamogo district school for the winter. It was a new experience for him, and a trying one at first. The big boys came to school to get out of the storm, and incidentally, to learn something of the three R's. They were often wild, but Rupert managed them without doing any "licking," the usual mode of discipline.

He now wrote to his sister Nina, and told her that he was located for the winter; that he expected to get back to Willowby, but not for a time.

So the winter months pa.s.sed. Rupert studied his own lessons when he was not preparing for his day's work. He made frequent visits to the Jansons, though it was a good three miles' drive. He was always received as a friend, and, indeed, was treated as one of the family.

Was it strange that a tie should grow between Rupert Ames and Signe Dahl? Was it anything out of the way that Rupert's trips became more frequent, and that the fair-haired Norwegian looked longingly down the road for the school-master's horse?

Rupert did not try to deceive himself. It had been a year only since his experience with Virginia Wilton. He had thought that he never would get over that, but even now he could look back on it with indifference, yes, even with thankfulness. This love which seemed to be coming to him was different from that first experience. He could not explain this difference, but he knew that it existed. Rupert had no misgivings. Signe did not thrill him, did not hold him spell-bound with her presence. No; it was only a calm, sweet a.s.surance that she was a good girl, that he loved her, and that she thought well of him. Their conversations were mostly on serious, but deeply interesting subjects. Signe, in common with her cousin and Mr. Janson, had religious views of her own, which were peculiar, at least to Rupert. Nothing more than the common doctrines of the Christian denominations had Rupert ever heard. Signe knew her Bible well, and she could find wonderful things within its lids, teachings which were new to Rupert, but which opened to him a future, a bright, glorious future, full of possibilities. Besides, they explained to him many of the mysteries of life and answered many of its hard questions.

Thus one evening--it was Friday, and he lingered longer on that evening--Mr. and Mrs. Janson were visiting neighbors, and Rupert and Signe were alone. They sat by the kitchen stove, and the blazing pine wood made a lamp unnecessary. Signe had received a letter from home which she had translated to Rupert. Her father had long since forgiven her. The few dollars she sent home now and then multiplied to quite a few _kroner_ by the time they reached Norway, and they helped the struggling family. After old country topics had been exhausted, the conversation had drifted to religious themes, and especially to the doctrine expressed in the song "O my Father;" but they now sat silently looking into the fire. Their chairs were not far apart, and it was an easy matter for Rupert to lay his hand over Signe's fingers that rested on the arm of her chair and draw them closely into his big palm.

"Signe," he said, "if we ever lived as intelligent beings in a pre-existent state--and I now can not doubt it,--we two knew each other there. Perhaps we were the closest friends, and I have just been letting my imagination run wild in contemplating the possibilities."

"Let me tell you someting--thing. Did I get tha-at right?"

"You get the th as well as I, and the w's trouble you no more."

"Only sometimes I forget, I was going to say, you remember the first night you came here?"

"I certainly do;" and he pressed her fingers a little closer.

"Well, I seemed to know you from the first. Though you looked bad and like a tramp, I knew you were not, and I felt as if I had known you before."

They were silent again, "reading life's meaning in each other's eyes."

Signe filled the stove from the box beside it.

"You remember that book you gave me to read the other day, Signe?"