She was very pale, but a calm joy was reflected on her countenance as she contemplated this act for her departed friend.
"Dear Edith," she thought, "I feel you very near to me today." With a thrill of happiness she went down the steps and entered her car. She was entirely alone, and drove her car slowly, while thinking of her past, wonderful experiences.
"How calm and serene Ephraim is after all the excitement of my last three years!" she thought. "I wonder if I'll ever see Alma again—and George."
A shade of sadness passed over her face. The very thought of him was painful yet. But time would doubtless make her love a thing of the past. She must have patience. But, try as she would, George occupied her thoughts until she reached the temple. Every scene with him was quickly rehearsed, and with each, came a sharp pang of regret for the inevitable.
But on entering the holy temple, peace came to her, and as she came out of the waters of baptism, that great happiness that comes to all who do vicarious work, lifted her far beyond her troubled thoughts, and her ride home was a quiet restful one.
All Nature seemed to sing of God's coming peace on earth, and Betty's heart was attuned to the harmony of the Invisible.
When she arrived home, she sought her room for a little rest. When she lay down, she found herself unable to sleep, but she closed her eyes to relax.
Hardly had she done this, when she felt a presence in her room. She opened her eyes—was she dreaming? No,—by her mantle, stood Edith,—Edith, more gloriously beautiful than ever before,—with the same fond expression in her violet eyes, as she looked upon Betty.
"Edith!" exclaimed Betty, sitting up in trembling delight.
Edith raised her hand as if for silence—then she smiled with gratitude for Betty's promise kept.