Story of Chester Lawrence

Being the Completed Account of Onewho Played an Important Part in"Piney Ridge Cottage"

By NEPHI ANDERSONAuthor of "Added Upon, " "The Castle Builder, ""Piney Ridge Cottage, " etc. 

THE DESERET NEWSSalt Like City, Utah1913

Books by Nephi Anderson. 

ADDED UPON, Fifth and Enlarged Edition. A story illustrating "Mormon"teachings regarding the past, the present, and the future states ofexistence. 

THE CASTLE BUILDER. The scenes and characters are from Norway, the Landof the Midnight Sun. 

MARCUS KING, MORMON, is the story of a convert to "Mormonism" who cameto Utah in early pioneer days. 

PINEY RIDGE COTTAGE, the love story of a "Mormon" country girl. 

A YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF THE CHURCH. The story of the "Mormon" Churchis told in simple, interesting chapters. 

_All bound in beautiful cloth, with gold titles_, Price, 75 cents each. 

DESERET NEWS BOOK STORE, Salt Lake City, Utah. 

Story of Chester Lawrence. 

CHAPTER I. 

It was raining when the ship was ready to sail; yet on the pier a largecrowd of people stood under dripping umbrellas, waving and shoutingfarewells to their friends on board. The departing passengers, most ofthem protected by an upper deck, pressed four deep against the rail, andwaved and shouted in return. 

The belated passenger, struggling with heavy hand baggage, scrambled upthe gang-plank. The last visitors were hustled ashore; amid noise andbustle, the plank was drawn away, and the ship was clear. A tremor ranthrough the vessel as the propeller began to move, and soon there was astrip of water between the pier and the ship. Then a tiny tug-boat camealongside, fastened itself to the steamer, and with calm assurance, guided its big brother safely into the harbor and down the bay. Thepeople on shore merged into one dark object; the greetings becameindistinct; the great city itself, back of the pier, melted into a graymass as seen through the rain. 

Chester Lawrence stood on the deck of the departing vessel and watchedthe interesting scene. He stood as one apart from the crowd, having noportion with either those on board or those left behind. He was aspectator only. Not a soul in that mass of humanity on the pier, not onein the big city, knew Chester Lawrence or had a thought for him. No onecared whether his voyage would be pleasant or otherwise. There were notears for him, or fears that he would not return in safety. Of thehundreds of waving handkerchiefs, none was meant for him; but as a lastshow of good-fellowship and as a farewell greeting to his native land, Chester waved once with the rest. 

The rain continued as the ship dropped down the bay and came safely intothe open sea. Some of the passengers then hurried below, while otherslingered on deck to see as long as possible the fast-receding land. Chester took his time. He had seen that his grips had been safely stowedaway in his state room, so he had no worries, as others seemed to have, regarding his belongings. The ship hands (sailors they cannot now becalled) were busy clearing the deck and getting things into their properplaces. The vessel pointed fairly into the vast eastern sea. The landbecame a dark, fast-thinning line on the western horizon, and then eventhat was swallowed up in the mist of rain. 

"Well, good-by, old home, good-by thou goodly Land of Joseph, " spokeChester, half aloud, as he stood for one intense moment facing the west, then turned to go down into his room. The rain must at last have reachedhim for his eyes were so blurred that he bumped rather abruptly into anelderly man who was standing at his elbow. 

"Oh, I beg your pardon, " said Chester. 

"It was nothing, sir. I, too, was just bidding farewell to the Land ofJoseph, and I fear my sight was also rather dim. "

Chester paused and looked at the man who had heard and repeated hisremark. No one but a Latter-day Saint would call America the Land ofJoseph. He was a pleasant-looking man, with hair and beard tinged withgray, clear blue eyes, a firm mouth, about which at that moment thereplayed a faint smile. Apparently, he wished to make further acquaintancewith Chester, for he asked:

"How far west were you looking just now?"

The question went deeper than Chester thought possible. He colored atrifle, but there was no time to reply, for the other continued:

"Mine was farther than that gray blot called New York, farther than theAlleghany mountains; in fact, it extended across the plains of the westto the Rocky Mountains--"

"So was mine!" exclaimed the younger man. "Let's shake hands upon it. Myname is Chester Lawrence, and I'm a Mormon. "

"My name is George Malby. "

"Elder George Malby?"

"Yes; I am a Mormon elder going on a mission to Great Britain. "

"I'm mighty glad to meet you, Elder Malby. I thought there wasn't a soulon board this vessel that I could approach as a friend; now I have abrother. "

"Three of them, " corrected the elder. "There are two more missionarieson board. Not a large party of us this time. Would you like to meetthem?"

There was no more land to be seen now. The sea stretched all around, with clouds above, and the rain. There was more comfort below, so thetwo newly-made friends went down. Chester met the other elders who wereyounger men, one destined for Scandinavia, the other for theNetherlands. It did not take long for the four men to become acquainted. Presently the dinner gong sounded, and all became interested in thefirst meal on ship-board. 

Practically every one sat down to that dinner, and did full justice toit. For many, that was the only meal eaten for days. Chester was notseated at the same table as his friends. At his right was a chatty oldgentleman and at his left a demure lady who ate in silence. Strangeness, however, is soon worn off when a company of people must eat at the sametable for a week; that is, if the dreaded sea-sickness does notinterfere too much with the gathering together at meal-time. 

Towards evening the rain ceased. As the darkness came on, the cloudsbillowed across the vast upper expanse. Chester and his new-made friendspaced the deck and watched the night settle on the water, and enclosethe ship in its folds. They talked of the strange new experience onship-board, then they told somewhat of each other's personal history. The sea was rough, and the ship pitched more and more as it met theswells of the Atlantic. The question of sea-sickness came up. 

"I have crossed the ocean three times, " remarked Elder Malby, "andescaped the sickness each time. I hope for as good luck now. "

"It _is_ a matter of luck, I understand, " said Chester. "Sea-sickness isno respecter of persons, times, or so-called preventatives. The weaksometimes escape, while the strong are laid low. _I_ feel all rightyet. "

The two younger men were fighting bravely, but it was not long beforethey excused themselves hurriedly, and went below, and to bed. Chesterand Elder Malby displayed splendid sea-legs, so they walked until theywere tired, then took possession of some chairs in a sheltered corner, wrapping their coats well around them. 

"I wish I were going on a mission, as you are, " Chester was saying. "Mytrip is somewhat aimless, I fear. For a year or more I have had a notionthat I ought to see Europe. I have seen a good deal of America, bothEast and West. I lived for some time in Salt Lake City, though I becamea Church member in Chicago. But about Europe, " he continued as if he didnot then wish to speak of his Western experiences, "you know, one musthave seen somewhat of the Old World to have the proper 'culture, '--musthave seen Europe's pictures, old castles, and historic places. I knowlittle and care less about the culture, but I have always had a desireto see England, and some of France and Germany, and the Alps--yes, Iwant to see the Alps and compare them with our Rockies. Rome, and otherItalian cities, are interesting, too, but I may not get to them thistime. I do hope some good will come of all this--somehow I think it willnot be wholly in vain. "

The older man let him talk without interruption. There was somethinguncommon in the life of this young man, but it would not do to showundue haste in wishing to know it. It was easily to be seen that Chesterwas helped in this opportunity to talk to a friend that could understandand be trusted. They sat late that night. The sea roared about them inthe darkness. There was a fascination about this thing of seeminglife--the ship--forcing itself against wind and wave into the darkness, and bearing safely with it in light and comfort a thousand precioussouls. 

Chester slept fairly well, and was awake next morning at daylight. Though the ship was pitching and rocking, he felt no indications ofsea-sickness. He gazed out of the port-hole at the racing waves. Some ofthem rose to his window, and he looked into a bank of green water. Hegot up and dressed. It was good to think he would not be sick. Very fewwere stirring. A number who were, like himself, immune, were brisklypacing the deck. Chester joined them and looked about. This surely mustbe a storm, thought he. He had often wished to witness one, from a safeposition, of course, and here was one. As far as he could see in everydirection, the ocean was one mass of rolling, seething water. At adistance it looked like a boiling pot, but nearer the waves rose higher, the ship's prow cutting them like a knife. 

"Quite a storm, " said Chester to a man washing the deck. 

"Storm? Oh, no, sir; just a bit of a blow. "

No one seemed to have any concern regarding the safety of the ship, soChester concluded that there was no danger, that this was no storm atall, which conclusion was right, as he had later to acknowledge. The suncame up through a wild sea into a wild sky, casting patches of shiftinglight on the waters to the east. Chester kept a lookout for his friends, the elders. When the breakfast gong sounded, Elder Malby appeared. 

"Where are the others?" asked Chester. 

"They'll not get up today; perhaps not tomorrow. I see you are allright. You're lucky. Come, let us go to breakfast. "

Most of the seats were vacant at the table that morning. A few smilinglylooked around, secure in their superior strength. Others were bravelytrying to do the right thing by sitting down to a morning meal; but anumber of these failed, some leaving quietly and deliberately, othersrushing away in unceremonial haste. Chester was quite alone on his sideof the table. If there had been a trifle of "sinking emptiness" in himbefore, the meal braced him up wonderfully. In this he thought he haddiscovered a sure cure for sea-sickness. One day later he imparted thisinformation to a lady voyager, who received it with the exclamation, "Oh, horrors!"

All that day the wind was strong, and the sea rough. Even an officeracknowledged that if this weather kept up, the "blow" might grow into astorm. From the upper deck Chester and Elder Malby looked out on thesublime spectacle. Like great, green, white-crested hills, the wavesraced along the vast expanse. Towards the afternoon the ship and thewind had shifted their course so that the waves dashed with thunderousroar against the iron sides of the vessel which only heaved and dippedand went steadily on its way. 

A number of ladies crowded on deck, and, aided by the stewards, weresafely tucked into chairs in places protected from wind and spray. Thedeck stewards tempted them with broth, but they only sipped itindifferently. These same ladies, just the day before had carried theirfeather-tipped heads ever so stately. Now, alas, how had the mightyleveler laid them low! They did not now care how their gowns fitted, orwhether their hats were on straight. Any common person, not afflictedwith sea-sickness, could have criticised their attitude in the chairs. One became so indifferent to correct appearances that she slid from herchair on to the deck, where she undignifiedly sprawled. The deck stewardhad to tuck her shawls about her and assist her to a more lady-likeposition. 

"That's pretty tough, " remarked Chester. 

"All the wits have tried their skill on the subject of sea-sickness, "said his companion; "but it's no joke to those who experience it. "

"Can't we help those ladies?" asked Chester. 

"Not very much. You will find the best thing to do is to let them alone. They'll not thank you, not now, for any suggestion or proffer of help. If you should be so foolish as to ask them what you could do for them, they would reply, if they replied at all, 'Stop the ship for fiveminutes. '"

"Then I'll be wise, " said Chester. 

The night came on, dark and stormy. The two friends kept up well. Theyate the evening meal with appetite, then went on deck again. 

Night adds awfulness to the sublimity of a storm at sea. The world aboutthe ship is in wild commotion. The sky seems to have dropped into thesea, and now joins the roaring waves as they rush along. The blacknessof the night is impenetrable, save as the lights from the ship gleam foran instant into the moving mass of water. Now and then a wave, rearingits crested head higher than the rest, breaks in spray upon the deck. The wind seems eager to hurl every movable object from the vessel, butas everything is fast, it must be content to shriek in the rigging andto sweep out into the darkness, and lend its madness to the sea and sky. 

But let us leave this awe-inspiring uproar and go down into the saloon. Here we come into another world, a world of light and peace andcontentment. The drawn curtains exclude the sight of the angry elementswithout, and save for the gentle rocking of the ship and the occasionalsplashing of water against its sides, we can easily imagine that we area thousand miles from the sea. Passengers sit at the long tables, reading or chatting. Other groups are playing cards or chess. In thecushioned corners, young men and maidens are exchanging banter withwords and glances. A young lady is playing the piano, and over all thisscene of life, and light, and gaiety, the electric lamps gleam in steadysplendor. 

Elder Malby soon retired. Chester remained in the saloon for a time, studying the various aspects of life about him; then he made agood-night visit to the deck. He looked into the men's smoking room, where a few yet sat with pipes and beer, playing cards. Among them weretwo men, fat-cheeked, smoothly shaven, who were dressed in priestlygarb. There was an expressive American in the company, an Englishman anda quiet German. Before the American could carry into effect hisintention of asking Chester to join them, the latter had passed by andout beyond the stench of the tobacco smoke. 

"This air, washed clean by a thousand miles of scouring waves, is goodenough for me, " thought he. 

The wind was not blowing so hard. The sky was nearly clear of clouds. The moon hung full and bright above the heaving horizon. Here wasanother aspect of the wonderful sea, and Chester lingered to get itsfull beauty. The steamer rolled heavily between the big waves. The youngman leaned on the railing, and watched the ship's deck dip nearly tothe water, then heave back until the iron sides were exposed nearly tothe keel. 

Chester was about to turn in for the night when he heard a commotion, apparently among the third class passengers. He walked along to where hecould look down on the forward main deck. A number of people wererunning about shouting excitedly. Chester ran down the steps to get anearer view. 

"What's the matter?" he asked. 

"I don't know. Someone overboard, I think. "

People were crowding to the rail at the extreme forward end of the ship. Someone with authority was trying to push them back, using theold-fashioned ship-board language to aid him. Chester drew near enoughnot to be in the way, but so that he could observe what was going on. Byleaning well over the rail, he could see what appeared to be two personsclinging to the anchor, which hung on the ship's side, about half-waydown to the water. One was a dark figure, the other appeared in themoonlight to be a woman dressed in white. Other ships-men now rushed up. 

"Clear way here! Where's the rope? Hang on, my man; we'll soon getyou"--this down the side of the ship. There came some words in reply, but Chester did not hear them. A rope was lowered. "Slip the loop aroundthe lady, " was the order from above. The man on the anchor tried toobey. He moved as if cautiously and slowly. "Hurry, my man!" But therewas no haste. Limbs and fingers made stiff by long exposure and crampedposition, clinging desperately to prevent himself and his burden fromfalling into the sea, were not now likely to be nimble; but in a fewminutes, which, however, seemed a long time, some words were spoken bythe man on the anchor, the command to haul in was given, and slowly thenearly-unconscious form of a young woman was drawn up to safety. 

"Now, my man, your next, " shouted the officer. The rope soon dangleddown again, the man reached out a hand for it. The ship cut into a bigwave, whose crest touched the man below. He grasped wildly for the rope, missed it, and fell with a cry into the sea. Chester tried to see him asthe ship rushed on, but the commotion and the darkness prevented him. 

"Man overboard! stop the ship!" came from the excited passengers. "Manoverboard!" What could be done! The man was gone. He had not one chancein a thousand to be rescued. Had he fallen overboard without muchnotice, the ship would have gone right on--Why should a world be stoppedin its even course to save one soul?--but too many had seen this. Signalbells were rung, the engines slowed down, and then stopped. Lightsflashed here and there, other officers of higher rank came on the scene;a boat fully manned was lowered. It bobbed up and down on the waves likea cork. Back into the track of the ship it went, and was soon lost toview. 

The search was continued for an hour, then given up. No trace of theman could be found. The small boat was raised to the deck, the enginemoved again, and the big ship went on its way. 

Chester lingered among the steerage, passengers and listened to thestory of the lost man who, it seems, had been one of those unfortunateones who had failed to pass the health inspector at New York and hadtherefore been sent back to his native land, Ireland. He was known asMike, what else, no one could tell. And the woman? Poor girl, she hadwandered in her night dress to the ship's side, and in some unknown wayhad gotten overboard as far as the protruding piece of iron. How Mikehad reached her, or how long they had occupied their perilous position, no one could tell. He was gone, and the woman was saved to her husbandand her baby. 

The night was growing late; but there was no sleep for Chester. Many ofthe passengers, having been awakened by the stopping of the ship, wereup, hurriedly dressed, and enquiring what the trouble was. Chester metElder Malby in the companion-way. 

"What's the matter?" asked the Elder. 

"A man has been lost at sea, " replied the other. "Come into the saloon, and I'll tell you about it. "

Chester was visibly affected as he related what he had seen. At theconclusion of his story he bowed his face into his hands for a moment. Then he looked into the Elder's face with a smile. 

"Well, it's too bad, too bad, " said George Malby. 

"Do you think so?"

"Well--why--isn't it a terrible thing to die like that?"

"I hope not, " replied Chester. "I think the dying part was easy enough, and the manner of it was glorious. He was a poor fellow who had failedto land. He had no doubt thought to make fame and fortune in the newworld. Now he has gone to a new world indeed. He entered ittriumphantly, I hope. As far as I know, he ought to be received as ahero in that world to which he has gone. "

Chester's eyes shone and his face was aglow. "Elder Malby, " hecontinued, "I remember what you told me just yesterday, --To our immortalsoul, nothing that others can do, matters much; a man's own actions iswhat counts. Neither does it matter much when or how a man leaves thislife; the vital thing is what he has done and how he has done it up tothe point of departure. The Lord will take care of the rest. "

As the two men went slowly along the narrow passage way to their staterooms that night, the older man said to the other, "I guess you'reright, my brother; yes; you are right. Good night, and pleasant sleep. "

CHAPTER II. 

The next morning the sky was clear and the sea was much smoother. Thesun shone bright and warm; more people came on deck, rejoicing that theycould live in the vigor of the open rather than in their stuffy staterooms. The two seasick elders thought it wiser to remain quietly intheir berths for another day, so Chester and Elder Malby had the day tothemselves. As the accident of the night before became known to thepassengers, it was the topic of conversation for some time. 

That afternoon Chester and his companion found a cosy corner on deckaway from the cigar smoke, and had a long heart to heart talk. The factof the matter was that the young man found comfort in the society of hisolder brother. For the first time in nearly two years Chester could pourout his heart to sympathetic ears, and he found much joy in doing this. 

"Yes, " said Chester to a question, "I should like to tell you aboutmyself. When my story gets tiresome, call my attention to the porpoises, or declare that you can see a whale. "

"I promise, " laughed the other. 

"Well, to begin at the very beginning, I was born in a suburb ofChicago, and lived in and near that city most of my life. My mother'sname was Anna Lawrence. I never knew my father, not even his name. Yes, I can talk freely about it to you. The time was when I shunned even thethoughts of my earthly origin and my childhood days, but I have gottenover that. I have learned to face the world and all the truth it has forme. 

"When I was but a child, my mother married Hugh Elston. Shortly after, they both heard the gospel preached by a 'Mormon' elder, and theyaccepted it. I had been placed in the care of some of my relatives, andwhen my mother now wished to take me, they would not give me up. Theywere, of course, fearful that I, too, would become a 'Mormon. ' Mr. Elston and my mother went west to Utah. I was sent to school, obtained afairly good education, and while yet a young man, was conducting asuccessful business. 

"I had nearly forgotten that I had a parent at all, when one day, mymother, without announcement, came to Chicago. She had left her husband. Mother did not say much to any of us, but I took it for granted that shehad been abused among the 'terrible Mormons. ' After a time I took a tripout to Utah to see about it, meaning to find this Mr. Elston and compelhim to do the right thing for my mother. Well, I went, I saw, and wasconquered. Mr. Elston was a widower living in a spot of green calledPiney Ridge Cottage amid the sage-brush desert, --living there alone withhis daughter Julia. And this Julia--well--Do you see any porpoises, Brother Malby?"

"Not yet. Go on. "

"Mr. Elston is a fine, good-hearted man, --a gentleman in very deed. Hesoon found out who I was and invited me to his home. Julia was mistressthere. In the midst of the desert, these two had created a beautifulhome. I went to their Sunday School and their meetings. I read Mormonbooks. My eyes were opened to the truth, and I was ready to accept it. "

"Thanks to Julia, " suggested the listener with a sly glance at Chester. 

"Yes; thanks to Julia, Brother Malby; but not in the sense you hint at. I think I would have accepted the gospel, even had there been no Juliamixed up with the finding of it. But Julia helped. She was a livingexample of what 'Mormonism' can do for a person, and when I looked ather, learned her thoughts through her words, and saw her life by herevery-day deeds, I said to myself, 'A system of religion that producessuch a soul, cannot be bad. ' Yes; she was a wonderful help; but I repeatthat had the truth come to me by other means and other ways, I believe Ishould have accepted it. "

"Forgive me for the thoughtless remark, " said Elder Malby. 

"O, I know how justifiable you are for it, so you are forgiven. "

"Did you join the Church in Utah?"

"No; I went back to Chicago. Away from Utah, from Piney Ridge Cottageand its influence. I pondered and prayed. I found the elders there andwas baptized. Then I went to Salt Lake City, where Julia had gone toattend school while her father was away on a mission to England. "Chester paused, looking out on the sea. "You don't blame me for fallingin love with Julia, do you?" asked he. 

"I don't blame you a bit. "

"But there was someone else, a young fellow who had grown up as aneighbor to her. He also went on a mission, and then I believe Juliadiscovered that she thought more of Glen Curtis than of me. I do not nowblame Julia for that. She told me plainly her feelings. I persisted fora time, but in vain--then I went away, and have never been to Utahsince. "

"And that's the end of your story?"

"Oh, no; while I was roaming aimlessly about the country trying to menda broken heart, mother, becoming uneasy about me, and thinking I was yetin Utah, journeyed out west to find me. The team on the stage-coachwhich took her out to Julia's home, ran away from the drunken driver, and just before they got to Piney Ridge Cottage the wagon upset on adug-way, and mother was mortally hurt. She died under Julia's care, andnow lies in Mr. Elston's private graveyard near Piney Ridge Cottagebeside Mr. Elston's other wife. Let us walk a little. "

The older man linked his arm into Chester's as they paced the long reachof the promenade deck. They walked for a few minutes, then sat downagain. 

"I hope you'll not think I'm a bore, to continue my personal history;but there is something in here, " said Chester, striking his breast, "that finds relief in expression to one who understands. "

"Go on; tell me all. "

"Do you know, I was tempted to 'chuck it all' after I had failed withJulia. I even went so far as to play devilishly near to sin, but thankthe Lord, I came to my senses before I was overcome, and I escaped thathorror. Oh, but I was storm-tossed for a while--I thought of ityesterday when we had the rough sea--but in time I came out into thecalm again, just as we are coming today on this voyage. But not until Ihad said more than once 'not my will, but thine, O Lord, be done, ' andsaid it from my heart, did I get peace. Then I began to see that thegirl had come into my life, not to be my wife, but to turn my life intonew channels. I, with the rest of the world of which I was a part, hadno definite views or high ideals of life, death, 'and that vastforever;' and something was needed to change my easy-going course. WhenI realized that Julia Elston had been the instrument of the Lord indoing that, I had to put away resentment and acknowledge the hand of Godin it. I read in the parables of our Lord that a certain merchantman hadto sell all he had in order to get the purchase money to buy the Pearlof Great Price. Why should it be given me without cost?"

"We all have to pay for it. "

"And I who had made no sacrifice, railed against fate because I had beenasked to pay a trifle--no it was not a trifle; but I have paid, and hopeto continue to pay to the last call. Now, what do you say, brother?Tell me what you think. "

"Well, you have an interesting story, my brother, and I am glad you lookon your experiences in the right light. To get the woman one thinks heought to get, is, after all, not the whole of life. There are otherblessings. To have one's life changed from darkness into light; to haveone's journey turned from a downward course to one of eternalexaltation; to obtain a knowledge of the plan of salvation, --these areimportant. If one is on the right way, and keeps on that way to the end, He who rules the world and the destinies of men, will see to it that allis right. Sometime, somewhere, every man and every woman will come tohis own, whether in life or death, in this world, or the next. "

"Thank you for saying that. Do you know, I am now glad that Julia didnot yield to my entreaties, and marry me out of pity. Think how I wouldhave felt when the realization of that had come to me. * * * * I foundthis expression of Stevenson the other day, purporting to be a test of aman's fortitude and delicacy: 'To renounce where that shall benecessary, and not to be embittered. ' Thank the Lord, I am notembittered. Some time ago I chose this declaration of Paul for my motto:'But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, andreaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward themark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. '"

The light of a soul of peace shone from the countenance of the youngman. The smile on the lips added only beauty to the strength of theface. He arose, shook himself as if to get rid of all pastunpleasantness and weakness, and faced the east as though he weremeeting the world with new power. Then the smile changed to a merrylaugh as he ran to the railing and cried:

"See, sure enough, there _is_ a school of porpoises!"

 * * * * *

The ship was in mid-ocean. The rough weather had wholly ceased. The sealay glinting like a vast jewel under the slant of the afternoon sun. Itwas a day of unflecked beauty. The decks were gay with people, somewalking, some leaning idly on the rail, some sitting with books in theirhands. A few were reading, but most sat with finger in closed book. Whybother to read _about_ life when it could be seen so full andinteresting all around. 

A day on ship-board is longer than one on shore, and provision must bemade to pass it pleasantly. If the weather is fair, this is quite aproblem. Of course, there are the meals in the well-appointed diningsaloon. They break pleasantly into the long monotony. Then there are thedeck games; the watching for "whales" and passing vessels; the lookingat the spinning log in the foaming water at the stern; the marking ofthe chart, which indicates the distance traversed during the twenty-fourhours; the visit to the steerage and the "stoke hole, " or boiler room inthe depths of the ship; and last, but not least, the getting acquaintedwith one's fellow passengers. "Steamer friendships" are easily made, andin most cases, soon forgotten. The little world of people speedingacross the deep from shore to shore, is bound together closely for a fewdays, and then, its inhabitants scatter. 

Chester Lawrence was enjoying every hour of the voyage. On that daypractically all sea-sickness had gone. The vacant places at the tableswere being filled and the company looked around at each other withpleasant contentment. The steamship company no longer saved on theprovisions. The chatty old gentleman at Chester's right was back againafter a short absence, and the power of speech had come to the demurelady on his left, with the return of her appetite. 

Two places opposite Chester were still vacant at the table. That day asthe crowd hastily answered the dinner gong, Chester, being a littletardy, encountered an elderly man and what appeared to be his daughtermaking their way slowly down the companionway towards the dining room. Chester saw at a glance that neither of them was strong, but both triedto appear able and were bound to help each other. He smiled at theirwell-meaning endeavors, then without asking leave, took the man's freearm and helped him down the steps, saying, "You haven't quite got your sea-legs yet--Now then, steady, and we'llsoon be there. Get a good dinner, and that will help. "

The steward showed them to the two seats opposite Chester which had beenvacant so long. 

"Thank you very much, " said the girl to Chester, with a smile, when theelderly man was well seated. Chester bowed without replying, then wentaround the table to his own seat. 

Somehow that gracious little smile had made Chester's heart flutter foran instant. As he realized it, he said to himself, "What's the matterwith me? Am I getting foolish? It was, certainly a sweet smile, and thethanks were gracious, too; but what of it?" The first courses were beingserved. She was sitting opposite him, just a few feet away. He mighttake a good look at the girl to see if there was anything uncommon abouther. He looked down the table, glancing just for an instant opposite. No; there was nothing striking, or to be disturbed about. The girl wasstill solicitous over her companion, meanwhile eating a little herself. "I musn't be rude, thought Chester, and then looked again across thetable. The man was past middle age. His face was clean shaven, and hewas dressed in the garb of a minister. He was a preacher, then. The girlhad evidently suffered much from sea-sickness, because her face was paleand somewhat pinched, though there was a tinge of red in her cheeks. That's a pretty chin, and a lovely mouth--and, well, now, what _is_ thematter! Chester Lawrence, attend to your chicken. "

The minister and his daughter did not remain for the dessert. As theyarose, he said:

"Now, that's pretty good for the first time, isn't it?"

"Yes, father, it is, " she replied. "You're getting on famously. Shall wetry the deck for a while?"

"Yes; it will do us both good to get into the air. Run along into yourroom for a wrap. "

Chester was tempted to leave his dinner to help them again; but heresisted the temptation. They walked quite firmly now, and as theyentered the passageway, the girl glancing back into the room, metChester's eyes and smiled once more. Again Chester's heart fluttered. Itwould have been a cold, hardened heart indeed not to have responded tosuch an appeal. 

CHAPTER III. 

On the morning of the fourth day out, Chester Lawrence stood watchingthe antics of a young man, who, coatless and hatless, and made brave bytoo many visits to the bar, was running up the rope ladders of the mastto a dangerous height. He climbed up to where the ladder met the one onthe other side, down which he scrambled with the agility of a monkey. The ladies in the group on deck gasped in fright at his reckless daring. The fellow jumped to the deck from the rail, and made a sweeping bow tothe spectators:

"Ladies and gentlemen, " he said, "'tis nothing at all, I assure you. Onshore I am a circus performer, an' I was just practicing a little. Haveno fear. See--"

He was about to make a second exhibition when a ship's officer seizedhim, threatening to lock him up if he did not desist. 

"O, certainly, if its against the rules, " he replied meekly. His hat andcoat were lying on a chair by some ladies. He put these on again, andthen sat down and began talking to the one nearest him. Chester, who hadfollowed the fellow's capers with some interest, gave a start when hesaw that the lady with whom the man was trying to carry on aconversation was the minister's daughter. She was visibly annoyed, andlooked about as if for help. Chester thought her eyes fell on him, andwithout hesitation he determined to assist her. He went up to them, andwithout appearing to see the girl, reached out his hand to the man, saying:

"Halloo Jack! Didn't know you were on board till I saw your capers justnow. I want to talk to you a moment. Come along and have a drink first. "

The fellow stared at Chester and was about to deny any acquaintanceshipwith him, when the insistent manner of the greeting changed his mind. Heexcused himself to the lady, arose and followed. Chester took his arm asthey walked along. 

"Which is your state-room?" asked Chester. 

"It's 340; but what you want to know for? Aren't we going to have adrink?"

"Not just now, my man. You're going to your room, and to bed. You got uptoo early. Listen, "--as the sobering man began to resent theinterference, --"there's an officer looking at us. He will do nothing ifyou will go along quietly with me, but if you make a scene I'll hand youover to him. "

They found the man's room and he willingly went in and lay down. "Now, "said Chester to him, "remain below until you're sober. And don't botherthat young lady again--do you hear. _Don't you do it_. "

Chester went on deck again, somewhat in wonder at his own conduct. Hewas not in the habit of interfering in other people's business, andnever mixed with drunken affairs. But this surely was different. No manwould have refused _that_ appeal for help. Yes; he was sure she hadpleaded with her eyes. Perhaps he ought to go back and receive herthanks, but he resisted that impulse. He walked to the extreme rear ofthe boat and stood looking at the broad white path which the ship wasmaking in the green sea. He stood gazing for some time, then turned, andthere sitting on a coil of rope was the girl who had been in his mind. She saw his confusion and smiled at it. 

"I--I came to thank you, " she said; "but I did not like to disturb yourmeditations, so I sat down to rest. "

"The sea has used you up quite badly, hasn't it?"

"O no; I was dreadfully ill before I came aboard. This trip is to makeme well, so papa says. "

"I hope so. " There was a pause, during which Chester found a seat on abit of ship furniture. This girl's voice was like an echo from far-awayUtah and Piney Ridge Cottage. And there was something about the shapelyhead now framed in wind-blown hair and the face itself that reminded himof someone else. Just how the resemblance came in he could not tell, butthere it was. Perhaps, after all, it was just the look in her eyes andthe spirit that accompanied her actions and words that moved him. 

"Is that man a friend of yours?" she asked. 

"You mean that drunken fool? No; I've never met him before. "

"That was just a ruse then--that invitation to drink. "

"I had to do something, and that came first to me. "

"Then you didn't go and drink with him?"

"Why no, of course not. I took him to his berth, and told him to staythere. "

"Do you think he will?"

"Yes; until he sobers up. "

"Well, I don't like drunken men. "

"Neither do I. "

"We're agreed on one thing then, aren't we?"

Chester laughed with her. Elder Malby was pacing the deck, awaiting thecall for breakfast; but Chester did not join him. 

"The man bothered me yesterday, " she said, "and again last night. Hewished to get acquainted, he claimed. "

"You don't know him, then?"

"I've never seen him before. Papa has had to remain very quiet, and Ihaven't been around much. That fellow made me afraid. "

"Well, he'll not bother you again. If he does, let me know. "

"Thank you very much--"

The call for breakfast came to them faintly, then grew louder as thebeaten gong came up from below to the deck. 

"I must get papa and take him to breakfast. Let me thank you again, andgood morning. "

He might have accompanied her down, but he just stood there watchingher. Elder Malby came up, and the two went down together. 

The minister and his daughter got into their places more actively thatmorning. Chester wished heartily that his seat was not opposite. She wasat too close range to allow of any careful observation. He could notvery well help looking across the table, neither could she, although shehad her father to talk to. Chester was really glad when breakfast wasover that morning, and they all filed up to the sun-lit deck again. 

Had Chester been a smoker, he would no doubt have taken consolation in apipe with the majority of the men; but as it was, he withdrew as much aspossible from others that he might think matters over and get to aproper footing; for truth to tell, he was in danger of falling in loveagain, and that, he said to himself, would never do. He avoided evenElder Malby that morning; but to do so he had to go down to the maindeck forward out to the prow. He went to the extreme point, where frombehind the closed railing he could stand as a look-out into the easternsea. Gently and slowly the vessel rose and fell as it plowed through thelong, gleaming undulations. 

"What am I coming to, " said Chester half-aloud as if the sea might hearand answer him. "Here I am running away from one heart entanglement onlyto go plump into another. She is not Julia, of course, but she hasJulia's twin soul. A perfect stranger, an acquaintance of two days! Thedaughter of a minister, a minister of the world!" What was he thinkingof? Who were they? He did not even know her name. She was not a wellgirl, that he could see. The roses in her cheeks were not altogethernatural and her face was pale; but those red lips, and that smile whenturned to him! Well, the voyage was half over. Another four or five daysand they would be in Liverpool, where they would go their different waysforever. He must keep away from her that long, seeing there was danger. No more playing with the fire that burns so deep. And all this which heseemed to feel and fear, might be undreamed of by her and very likelywas. A girl like that would not take seriously a "steamer friendship. "She was only doing what all young people do on such trips, makingpleasant acquaintances with whom to pass away the monotonous days. "Sure, sure, " said he, as if to clinch the argument, but nevertheless, deep within his soul there was an undercurrent of protest against suchfinal conclusions. 

Chester tried to seek refuge in Elder Malby, but as he was not to befound, he opened up a conversation with the missionary for Scandinavia. The missionary was but a boy, it seemed to Chester. The going from homeand the sea-sickness had had their effects, and the young fellow wasglad to have some one to talk to. He came from Arizona, he told Chester;had lived on a ranch all his life; had never been twenty miles away fromhome before, --and now all this at once! It was "tough. "

"But I'm feeling fine now, " he said. "Do you know, I've had a peculiarexperience. All the way across the United States from home, somethingseemed to say to me, 'You can't stand this. You'll go crazy. You'dbetter go back home. ' Of course, I was terribly homesick, and I guessthat was the trouble. The cowardly part of me was trying to scare thebetter part. But all the time I seemed to hear 'You'll go crazy' untilonce or twice I thought I would. 

"Well, it was the same in New York, and the same when we came aboard. Ididn't care much one way or other while sea-sick, but when I got overit, there was the same taunting voice. At last I got downright angry andsaid, 'All right, I'm going right on and fill my mission, _and gocrazy!_' From that moment I have ceased to be bothered, and am nowfeeling fine. "

"Good for you, " said Chester. "You'll win out. I wish I was sure aboutmyself. " He went no further in explanation, however. 

Ship board etiquette does not require formal introductions beforeextended conversations may be carried on. The New England school ma'amand the German professor were in a deep discussion ten minutes afterthey had met for the first time. Many on the ship were going especially"to do Europe, " so there were themes for conversation in common. 

As it happened, Chester was alone again that afternoon and he met theminister and his daughter on the promenade deck. They were taking theirexercise moderately, pausing frequently to look at any triflingdiversion. Chester tipped his cap at them as they passed. At the nextmeeting in the walk, the minister stopped and greeted the young man. 

"I wish to thank you for your act of kindness to my daughter, " he said. "She has told me about it. "

"It was nothing, I assure you, sir, " replied Chester. "I don't think thefellow will annoy her again. "

"I hope not. On these ocean voyages one is thrown so closely into allkinds of company. We, of course, must suppose all our fellow-passengersare respectable people, until we find out otherwise--but let us sitdown. Where are our chairs, Lucy?"

"They're on the other side, I believe, where we left them this morning. "

"It's a little too windy there. "

"I'll bring them around to you, " said Chester. Lucy followed him, pointing out which of the chairs belonged to them. 

"May I not carry one?" she asked. 

"You do not appear strong enough to lift one. "

Chester carried the two chairs around to the side of the sheltered deck, then found a vacant chair for himself which he placed with the othertwo. 

"Thank you very much, " said the minister, as they seated themselves. "The day is really fine, isn't it? After the sea-sickness, there issomething glorious in a pleasant sea voyage. This is my third timeacross, but I don't remember just such a fine day as this. Are you agood sailor?" this to Chester. 

"I've not missed a meal yet, if that's any indication. "

"I envy you. I have often wished I could be on deck in a bit of realbad weather. We had a little blow the other day, I understand, when thatpoor fellow lost his life. "

"Yes; I saw the accident, " replied Chester; whereupon he had to relatethe details to them. 

"Well, such is life--and death, " was the minister's only comment on thestory. 

The minister did most of the talking. Perhaps that was because he wasused to it, having, as he told Chester, been a preacher for twenty-fiveyears. The daughter commented briefly now and then, prompting his memorywhere it seemed to be weak. Chester listened with great interest to theman's account of former trips to Europe and his description of famousplaces. The speaker's voice was pleasant and well-modulated. Hisclean-cut face lighted up under the inspiration of some vividdescription. Chester found himself drawn to the man nearly as much as hehad been to the daughter. 

"You're an American, " announced the minister, turning to Chester. 

"Yes. "

"A western American, too. "

"Right again; how can you tell?"

"Easily enough. How far west?"

"My home is in Chicago. "

"Well, Lucy and I can beat you. We came from Kansas City. Ever beenthere?"

"I've passed through twice. "

"Through the Union Depot only?" asked Lucy. 

"You must have received a very unpleasant impression of our city. "

"Well, happily I did get away from that depot. I took a ride on the carsout to Independence, and I saw a good part of the city besides. It'sbeautiful out towards Swope Park--"

"There's where we live, " exclaimed the girl. "I think the park's justgrand. I live in it nearly all summer. "

At this point of the conversation, a party to windward, among whom werethe two Catholic Fathers, lighted their pipes, and the smoke streamedlike from so many chimneys into the faces of those sitting near. Theminister looked sharply towards the puffing men, while Lucy tried topush the denser clouds away with her hands; but no notice was taken ofsuch gentle remonstrances. 

"I'll speak to them, " suggested Chester. 

"No; don't. It would only offend them, " said the minister. "They thinkthey are strictly within their rights, and it does not dawn on theirnicotine poisoned wits that they are taking away other peoples'rights, --that of breathing the uncontaminated air. We'll just move ourchairs a bit, " which they did. 

"You don't smoke, I take it, " continued the clergyman, addressingChester. 

"No; I quit two years ago. "

"Good for you. It's a vile habit, and I sometimes think the worst effectsmoking has on people is that it dulls the nice gentlemanlyness of aman's character. Now, those men over there, even the Catholic Fathers, are, no doubt gentlemen in all respects but one; it's a pity that thetobacco habit should make the one exception. "

Chester agreed in words, Lucy in looks. 

"You say you have passed through Kansas City, " continued the father. "How far west have you been?"

"To the Pacific Coast. "

"Lucy and I should have made this trip westward, but the doctor said wemust not cross the mountains, because of her heart. So an ocean voyagewas advised. "

"And I did want so much to see the Rockies, " added the young woman. "Ihave always had a longing to see our own mountains as well as those ofSwitzerland. Next summer we'll take that western trip. "

"I hope so, daughter. "

"I assure you they are worth seeing, " said Chester. 

"No doubt about it. Lucy and I have planned it all for some day. Wereyou ever in Utah?"

"I lived for some time in Salt Lake City. Be sure to see that town onyour trip. "

The minister looked somewhat queerly at Chester for a moment. Then hisgaze swept out to the water again as if a momentary disturbing thoughtwas gotten rid of. Lucy was interested. 

"Tell us about Salt Lake City, and, and the Mormons, '" pleaded she. 

"Never mind the 'Mormons, ' Lucy, " admonished her father. 

"It's difficult to speak of Utah and Salt Lake without mentioning the'Mormons, '" added Chester. 

"Then let's talk of something else, something more pleasant. "

Evidently this minister was like all others, Chester concluded; sane andintelligent on all subjects but one, --the "Mormons. " Well, he would sethimself right before these two people, and do it now. 

"I can say, " said Chester, "that my experience among the 'Mormon' peoplehas been among the most pleasant of my life. In fact, I don't know whereI can go to find a more honest, God-fearing, virtuous people. I--"

"Young man, " interrupted the clergyman, looking keenly at him, "are youa 'Mormon'?"

"Yes, sir; I have that honor. "

Lucy gave a cry, whether of alarm or gladness, the young man could notthen tell. The minister arose slowly. "Lucy, " he said, "let us walk alittle more, " and without another word the two resumed their promenade. 

But in Lucy's face there appeared concern. The tears, glittering in hereyes did not altogether hide the reassuring glance which she turnedabout to give Chester as he sat alone by the vacated chairs. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The next day was Sunday. Even on ship-board there are some indicationsthat the seventh day is different from the rest. There is always alittle extra to the menu for dinner, and then religious services arealso held; and are not these two things frequently all that distinguishthe Sabbath on the land?

That morning neither Lucy nor her father was at breakfast. Immediatelyafter, Chester sought out the chief steward, and by insistency and thehelp of a small tip, he got his seat changed to the table occupied byElder Malby and the two other missionaries. "No one shall be annoyed bymy near presence, if I can help it, " Chester said. 

At the noon meal, the minister and his daughter appeared as usual. Chester watched them unobserved from his changed position. They lookedat the vacant place opposite, but as far as Chester could determine, hisabsence was not discussed. 

That afternoon services were held in three parts of the vessel at thesame time. On the steerage deck a large company of Irish Catholicssurrounded the two Fathers. One of the priests stood in the center ofthe group while the people kneeled on the deck. The priest readsomething in Latin, the others repeating after him. Then a glass of"holy water" was passed among them, the worshipers dipping theirfingers in and devoutly crossing themselves. Chester watched theproceedings for a time, then he went to the second class deck where arevival meeting was in progress. The preacher was delivering the usualexhortation to "come to Jesus, " while yet there was time. Presently, there came from the depths of the ship the sound of the dinner gongbeing slowly and solemnly beaten, no doubt to imitate, as nearly aspossible, the peal of church bells. The steward who acted as bell ringerdid his duty well, going into the halls and on to the decks, thendisappearing again into the saloon. This was the official announcementto service. Chester and his friends followed. Quite a congregation hadgathered. Two large pillows had been covered with a Union Jack to serveas a pulpit. A ship's officer then read the form prescribed for serviceson ship-board from the Church of England prayer book. It was all verydry and uninteresting, "Verily a form of godliness" and a lot of "vainrepetition, " said Elder Malby. 

Then the minister--Chester's minister--arose. He had been asked, hesaid, to add a few words to the regular service, and he was pleased todo so. He called attention to the accident which had happened on theirvoyage, and felt to say something on the providence of God, and Hiswatch-care over His children. The preacher's voice was pleasant, theministerial tone not being so pronounced as to make his speechunnatural. Chester listened attentively, as also did Lucy who, Chesterobserved, was sitting well up towards the front. 

"God is the source of the being of all men, " said the preacher. "He hasbrought us all into existence, and made us in His own likeness, and is aFather to us in fact and in feeling. He owns us and owns Hisresponsibility for us. He cares for us and overrules all things for ourgood. He is worthy of our love and confidence. Since we are Hischildren, God desires us to be such in very deed--in fellowship andcharacter, and is satisfied with us only as we are giving ourselves tothe filial life. This relationship which we bear to God cannot be fullyexplained. There is a mystery in it beyond the understanding of finiteminds; but of this we are sure that the God of Creation has brought usall forth into being, and He will take care of us if we will let Him. Wecannot reasonably and reverently think otherwise of Him. 

"Is it not a comfort to think that we cannot get away from theever-present watchfulness of God? As the Psalmist puts it: 'Whithershall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence?If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell inthe uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, andthy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall coverme; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth notfrom thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the lightare both alike to thee. ' Yes, yes, my friends, 'God is our refuge andstrength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear--'"

Somehow, what the minister said after that came very indistinctly toChester Lawrence. He heard the words, but was aware only of a peculiarfeeling, a dim perception of where he was and what he was hearing. Thereseemed to him to be a genuine feeling in the voice that uttered thosebeautiful words of scripture. They clung to his heart, and the ministerhimself became transfigured for an instant into some other being, --sternof countenance, yet loveliness in the depths of his soul, spirituallyfar away, yet heart yearning with nearness of love. Chester came fullyto himself only when Elder Malby took his arm and together they paced afew turns around the deck. 

That same Sunday evening as Chester stood alone on the promenade deckwatching the moonlight lay as a golden coverlet on the placid sea, hisattention was attracted to the figure of a girl mounting the stepsleading to the deck where he stood. She paused half way as if to rest, then came slowly up to where he was standing. Her breath came heavily, and she looked around to find a place to rest. Chester instinctivelytook her arm and led her to a deck chair. 

"O thank you, " said Lucy, "I--my heart bothered me pretty badly thattime. I am forbidden to climb stairs, but I couldn't find you on thelower deck. "

"Did you wish to see me?" asked Chester. 

"Yes; I--you'll not think me over bold, will you, but I had to findyou--won't you sit down here--I can't talk very loudly tonight. "

Chester drew a chair close to hers. A light wrap clung about her and themoonlight streamed on head and face. The young man, in the mostmatter-of-course-way adjusted the wrap to the girl's shoulders as hesaid:

"You are not well, tonight. "

"Oh, I'm as well as usual--thank you. " She smiled faintly. "Will youforgive us?"

He was about to reply, "Forgive you for what?" but he checked himself. Somehow, he could not feign ignorance as to what she meant, neithercould he use meaningless words to her. 

"We were very rude to you yesterday, both father and I; and I wanted tomake some explanations to you, so you would understand. I am so sorry. "

"You and your father are already forgiven. If there were a grain ofill-feeling against him this afternoon, it all completely vanished whenI heard him talk at the services. "

"You were there?"

"Yes. Now don't you worry. " He was nearly to say "Little Sister;" butagain he checked himself. "I am a 'Mormon, '" he continued. "I am notashamed of it, because I know what it means. Only those who don't knowdespise the word. "

"Neither am I ashamed of it, " she said as she looked him fairly in theface. "I know a little--a very little--about the 'Mormons, ' but thatwhich I know is good. "

"What do you know?"

"I'll tell you. One evening, in Kansas City I stopped to listen to twoyoung men preaching on the street. They were just boys, and they did nothave the appearance of preachers. You must know that I have always beeninterested in religion, and religious problems. Perhaps that is natural, seeing my father is a minister. I read his books, and many are thediscussions I have had with him over points of doctrine, --and we don'talways agree, either. He, however, usually took my little objectionsgood naturedly until one day he asked me where I had obtained a certainnotion regarding baptism. In reply I handed him the booklet I hadreceived at the 'Mormon' street meeting. He looked at it curiously for amoment, wanted to know where I had obtained it, then locked it up in hisdesk. He was really angry; as that was something he had never beenbefore over any religious question, I was surprised and impressed. Ihad, however, read carefully the booklet. Not only that, but I had beensecretly to one of the 'Mormon' services. I there learned that anacquaintance of mine belonged to the 'Mormon' Church, and depend uponit, I had her tell me what she knew. "

"And your father?"

"He objected, of course. At first, I told him everything. He had alwayslet me go to any and all religious gatherings without objection. Heeven laughingly told me I could don the Salvation lassie's bonnet andbeat a drum in the street, if I wanted to; but when it came to the'Mormons, ' O, he was angry, and forbade me from ever going to theirmeetings or reading their literature. I thought it strange. "

"It's not strange at all, --when you understand, " remarked Chester, whowas intensely interested in her story. "I suppose you obeyed yourfather. "

"Well, now, you want me to tell you the truth, of course--I--I wasn'tcurious--"

"Certainly not. "

"You're laughing at me. But I wasn't, I tell you. I was interested. There is something in 'Mormonism' that draws me to it. I don't know muchabout it, to be sure, for it seems that the subject always widens out tosuch immensity. I want you to tell me more about Joseph Smith, the Bookof Mormon and the new revelations. "

"But your father will object. What would he say if he knew you weresitting here in this beautiful moonlight talking to a 'Mormon'?"

"I'm of age, I guess. I'm doing nothing wrong, I hope. "

"I hope not. Far be it for me to harm you--or any living soul. But Idon't know much about the gospel as we call it--for you must know it isthe simple gospel of Jesus Christ revealed anew. There are three other'Mormons' on board, missionaries going to Europe. One of them at leastcould tell you much. "

"But I'd be pleased to hear you tell me--is, is that father? I wonder ifhe is looking for me. "

Chester looked in the direction indicated. A man came up, then passedon; it was not the minister. The girl crouched into the shadow, and asshe did so her shoulder pressed against Chester's. Then she sprang up. 

"Well, I was foolish, " she exclaimed, "to be afraid of dear old daddy!"

Chester also arose, and the two walked to the railing. They stood therein the moonlight. Great clouds of black smoke poured from the ship'sfunnels, and streamed on to windward, casting a shadow on the whitedeck. They looked out to the water, stretching in every direction intothe darkness. Then as if impelled by a common impulse, they looked ateach other, then blushed, and lowered their eyes. The girl's hands layon the railing. Chester saw their soft shapeliness, and noted also thatthere were no rings on them. 

"I'm glad I've met you, " said Chester honestly. 

"And I'm glad, too, " she breathed. "Some other time you must tell me somuch. I've so many questions to ask. You'll do that, won't you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Now I must go to father. He may be uneasy. " She held out her hand. "Good night--what _do_ you think of me? Am I a rude girl?"

"I heard your father call you Lucy. That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes. "

"And I may call you that, may I not? You know these ship-boardacquaintances don't wait on ceremony. "

"But I don't know your name, either. Think of it, how we have beenreally confidential and we don't even know each other's name. "

"I know yours. "

"Only half of it. I've two more. How many have you?"

"Only two. "

"And they are?"

"Chester Lawrence. "

"Well, mine is Lucy May Strong--and now, goodnight. "

He took her arm and helped her down the steps, gently, for she seemedsuch a frail being, one who needed just such stout arms as Chester's tolean upon. He risked the danger of meeting the father by helping herdown the second flight of steps to the state-room deck. 

"Good night, Lucy. "

"Good night--Brother Lawrence. "

CHAPTER V. 

All Monday forenoon, Chester sat on deck reading a book which he hadobtained from the ship's library. It was a most interesting story, andyet the world of gray-green water and changing clouds drew his attentionfrom the printed page. He was beginning to realize what the fascinationfor the sea was which took hold of men. It would have been difficult forhim to analyze or explain this feeling, but it was there; and it seemedto him that he would have been content to live out his life on thatboundless ocean which presented a symbol of eternity continually beforehis eyes. 

"Good morning. "

Chester started, then turned. It was Lucy's father who found a chair anddrew it up to Chester's. 

"Is the book interesting?" inquired the minister. 

"Not so interesting as this wonderful sea and sky, " was the reply. 

"You are right, " said the other, following the young man's gaze out tothe distance. "Our universe is now but water and air, and we are butspecks floating between the two layers. "

"But we know that ocean and air are not all. We know there are plainsand mountains, forests and growing fields; so after all our universemust include not only all we can see with our eyes, but all that comeswithin view of our comprehension. Do you know, " resumed Chester after apause, "I have come to this conclusion, that our universe is limitedonly within the bounds of our faith. As we believe, and strive toconvert that belief into a living faith, so shall we know and realize. "

The preacher looked keenly at the "Mormon, " as if he would see thefountain of these thoughts. Chester continued:

"But you, as a minister of the gospel, understand all these things. However, I like to think about them and express them to those who willlisten"--and as the minister was listening, the young man went on:

"I reason it out this way: The Spirit of God--that is, His presence ininfluence and knowledge and power, as you so beautifully put ityesterday at the services, is everywhere in the universe. There is noplace in heaven or hell, or in the uttermost bounds of space but God isthere. As you also stated, we may not fully understand this infinitemagnificence of God, but this has been done to help us: the Father hasrevealed Himself to us through his Son. The Son we can comprehend, forHe was one of us. We learn from scripture that this Son had all powerboth in heaven and earth given him; that He was, in fact, 'heir of allthings. ' Now, when that fact is fixed in my mind, I connect this otherwith it, that we, God's children also, are joint heirs with Christ; andin fact, if we continue on in the way He trod, we shall be like Him. Now, then, what does this chain of argument lead us to? That we mayfollow in the footsteps of God, and where He has gone, or shall go, wemay go. Think of it--no, we can't. Only for an instant can our mindsdwell upon it, then we drop to the common level again, and here we are, a speck on the surface of the deep. "

"What is that book you are reading?" asked the minister. He hadevidently also dropped to the "common level;" or perhaps he had notsoared with his companion. 

"This? O, this is Kipling's 'Plain Tales from the Hills. ' I likeKipling, but I wish he hadn't written some very untruthful things aboutmy people. "

"Has he?"

"Yes. It seems he made a flying visit through Salt Lake City, and tookfor gospel truth the lurid stories hack drivers tell to tourists so thatthey may get their money's worth. "

"Well, I don't know;--but that brings me to the point of my errand. Isought you out especially today to ask you not to talk religion to mydaughter. I understand she and you had a discussion on 'Mormonism' lastevening, and she slept very little all night as a result. "

"You are mistaken, sir; I said nothing to her about 'Mormonism. ' Shetold me a little about--"

"Well, whatever it was, she was and is still ill over it. Let me tellyou, --and I am sure you will believe me, --my little girl is all I have. She has been ailing for years, heart trouble mostly, with complications. A comfortable voyage with no over-excitement might help, the doctorssaid; and that's the main reason for this trip. She has always beeninterested in religious questions, which I naturally encouraged her in;but when she got mixed up somewhat with the 'Mormons, ' that was quiteanother matter. "

"Why, may I ask?"

"Well, it excited her. It brought her in contact with undesirablepeople, people not of her class and standing--"

"Like me, for instance. "

"I did not say that. "

"You inferred it. But pardon me. I would not, for the world, do anythingthat would unfavorably affect your daughter. "

"I knew you would look at the matter sensibly. Perhaps it would be forthe best if you did not meet her oftener than possible. I know it isdifficult on ship-board, but for her sake you might try. "

"For her sake, why certainly, I'll do anything--for I want to tell you, Mr. Strong, you have a good, sweet daughter. "

"I'm glad you think so. "

"And I think a whole lot of her, I may just as well tell you. We havemet but a few times, but some souls soon understand each other. "

"What! You don't mean--!"

"That we have been making love to each other, " laughed Chester. "O, no;not that I know; but there is such a thing as true affinity of souls, nevertheless, the affinity which draws by the Spirit of God. And so Isay again plainly, that you may understand, I regard your daughterhighly. "

"Young man, I thank you for your open manner and speech, but I beseechof you not to encourage any deeper feeling towards my daughter. She cannever marry. She lives, as it were, on the brink of the grave. Now, Ihave been plain also with you. "

"I appreciate it, sir; believe me; I am profoundly sorry for her and foryou; but, let me say this, seeing we are speaking plainly, if I lovedyour daughter, and we all knew she would die tomorrow, or next month, that knowledge would make only this difference, that my love wouldbecome all the holier. If she returned that love, we would be happy inknowing that in the life beyond we would go on and bring that love to aperfect consummation. "

The minister looked closely again at the young man. Then, giving voiceto his thoughts, asked: "Have you studied for the ministry? Are you nowa 'Mormon' missionary?"

"I am not an authorized 'Mormon' missionary. My studying has been nomore than is expected of every 'Mormon. ' Every member of our Church issupposed to be able to give a reason for the hope that is withinhim, --and I think I can do that. "

"Do you live in Utah?"

"No, sir; my home is in Chicago. "

"Chicago!--well, I--are there 'Mormons' in Chicago?"

"A few, as I suppose there are a few in Kansas City. I joined the'Mormon' Church in Chicago, but I was converted in Utah. "

"You have been to Utah, then?"

"O, yes; I spent some time there and got very well acquainted with thepeople; and they are a good people, I tell you, sir. I know--"

"Yes, well, Mr. ----, Lucy did tell me your name, but I have forgottenit. "

"My name is Lawrence--Chester Lawrence. "

The minister had arisen as if about to go, but he now sat down again. Chester did not understand the strange twitching of the minister's lipsor the pallor of his face. What had he said or done to agitate the manso much?

"Chester Lawrence!" repeated Mr. Strong under his breath. 

"You have never met me before, have you? Perhaps--"

"No; I have never met you before. No, no; of course not. There was justsomething come over me. I'm not very well, and I suppose I--"

He stopped, as if he lacked words. 

"May I get you anything, a drink of water?" suggested Chester. 

"No, no; it was nothing. Sit down again"--for Chester also hadarisen--"and tell me some more about yourself. I am interested. "

"Well, my life has been very uneventful, and yet in a way, I have lived. As a boy in Chicago, I suppose, my young days passed as others; but itwas when I went out west and met the 'Mormons' that things happened tome. "

"Yes, yes. "

"I don't mean that I had any adventures or narrow escapes in a physicalway. I lived in the mountains as a miner for a time, but there are nowild animals or Indians there now, so my adventures were those of thespirit, if I may use that expression, --and of the heart. Isn't that yourdaughter coming this way?"

Sure enough, Lucy had found them, and came up to them beaming. Chesterfailed to see in her any symptoms for the worse, as her father hadindicated. In fact, there certainly was a spring to her step which hehad not seen before. 

"Well, I've found you at last, you run-away papa. Good morning, " shenodded to Chester, who returned the greeting. "Don't you know, papa, youhave kept me waiting for half an hour or more to finish our game. "

"I'll go right now with you, " said the father, rising. 

"Well, I don't care so much now, whether it's finished or not. I believesomeone else has it anyway. "

"Oh, we'll go and finish the game, " persisted Mr. Strong. 

"Perhaps Mr. Lawrence will come along, " suggested the girl, as it seemedvery proper to do. 

"Not now, thank you, " replied Chester. "I must finish my book before thelunch gong sounds. "

The minister took his daughter's arm and they went along the deck towhere a group was laughing merrily over the defeat and victory in thegames. Chester watched them mingle with the company, then he opened hisbook again; but he did not complete his story at the time he hadappointed. 

To those who can possess their souls in peace, life on ship-board inpleasant weather is restful, and may be thoroughly enjoyed. A littleworld is here compactly put together, and human nature may be studied atclose range. From the elegant apartments of the saloon to theill-smelling quarters of the steerage, there is variety enough. Representatives are here from nearly "every nation under heaven:" everycreed, every color; every grade of intelligence and worldly position, from the prince who occupies exclusively the finest suite of rooms, tothe begrimed half-naked stoker in the furnace room in the depths of thevessel; every occupation; every disposition. And yet, even in thiscompact city in a shell of steel, one may seclude himself from hisfellows and commune solely with his own thoughts or his books. 

The three "Mormon" elders, reticent and quiet, had made fewacquaintances. The Rev. Mr. Strong and his daughter, not being verywell, had not been active in the social proceedings of the ship'scompany. 

Chester Lawrence had formed an acquaintance which seemed to him to fillall requirements, so that he cared not whether he learned to know anymore of his fellow travelers. And now further association with thispleasant acquaintance must stop. Well, once again he said to himself, hewould be glad at sight of Liverpool, and again some deeply hidden voiceprotested. 

Chester tried to keep his word with Mr. Strong. He made no efforts tosee Lucy or talk with her, and he even evaded her as much as possible. This he could not wholly do without acting unmannerly. All were on deckduring those beautiful days, and twice on Tuesday Lucy and Chester andthe elders had played deck quoits, the father joining in one of them. Lucy beamed on Chester in her quiet way until she noted the change inhis conduct towards her. The pained expression on the girl's face whenshe realized this change, went to Chester's heart and he could havecried out in explanation. 

That evening Lucy found Chester in a corner of the library pretending toread. There was no escape for him as she approached. What a sweetcreature she was, open-hearted and unafraid! His heart met her half way. 

"What is the matter with you, Brother Lawrence?" she asked. 

"There is nothing the matter with me. "

"Then what have _I_ done?" She seated herself, and Chester laid his bookon the table. He would be plain and open with this girl. In the endnothing is gained by mystery and silence. He told her plainly what hadtaken place between himself and her father. She listened quietly, thetears welling in her eyes as he progressed. Then for a moment she hidher face in her hands while she cried softly. 

"I shall not ask you to break your promise, " she said at last, "but Idid so want to learn more of the gospel--the true restored gospel. Itisn't true that a discussion of these things affects me unfavorably. Iam never so well as when I am hearing about and thinking of them. Perhaps father thinks so, however; I shall not misjudge him. "

"So I shall keep my word, " said he, "and if I keep it strictly, I shouldnot now prolong my talk with you. But I have a way out of your trouble. You know Elder Malby. He is a wise man and knows the gospel much betterthan I. He will gladly talk to you. "

"Thank you. That's a good suggestion; but you--"

"I shall have to be content to look from afar off, or perchance tolisten in silence. Good night. "

And so it happened that the very next morning when the passengers werelooking eagerly to the near approach to Queenstown, Lucy and Elder Malbywere seen sitting on deck in earnest conversation. Chester promenaded ata distance with some envy in his heart; but he kept away. For fully anhour the girl and the elderly missionary talked. Then the minister, coming on deck saw them. He, no doubt, thought she was well out ofharm's way in such company, for he did not know Elder Malby. When hecaught sight of Chester he went up to him, took him by the arm and fellinto his stride. 

Their conversation began with the common ship-board topics. Then theminister asked his companion more about himself and his life. It seemedto Chester that he purposely led up to his personal affairs, and hewondered why. There were some parts of his history that he did notdesire to talk about. What did this man wish to know?

"How long did you live in Utah?" asked the minister, after receivinglittle information about Chester's birth and parentage. 

"Altogether, about a year. "

"And you liked it out there?"

"Very much. The mountain air is fine; and that is truly the land ofopportunity. "

The two swung around the deck, keeping in step. Chester pressed hiscompanion's arm close. They reached in their orbit the point nearest toLucy and Elder Malby, then without stopping went on around. 

"I knew a man once by the name of Lawrence, " said the minister. "Iwonder if he could be related to you. "

Chester did not reply. 

"I don't know whether or not he ever went to Utah. "

"My parents were not with me in Utah. I went alone, after I was a grownman. My mother had lived there many years before, but had left. Shelived in Chicago the latter part of her life; but she made a trip toUtah when she was old and feeble, --and she died there. * * * * Her graveis there now. "

The minister now was silent. His lips twitched again. Chester once morewondered why such things should affect him. The man's arm clung toChester firmly as if he wished support; and Chester's heart warmed tohim. Was he not Lucy's father? Should he not know all he desired to knowabout the man who had expressed deep regard for his daughter?

"I think you are tired, " said Chester. "Let's sit here and rest. "

"Yes; all right. "

"The man Lawrence whom you knew was not my father, " continued Chester. "That was my mother's maiden name. I don't know--I never knew my father;and shall I say, I have no wish to know a man who could treat my motherand his child the way he did. No; much as I have longed to know afather's love and care, I cannot but despise a man who becomes a father, then shirks from the responsibility which follows--who leaves the burdenand the disgrace which follow parenthood outside the marriage relationto the poor woman alone. Such baseness, such cowardice, such despicablelittleness of soul!--do you wonder why I don't want to know my father?"

Well, he had done it. Lucy's father knew the truth of his dishonorablebeginning. This highly cultured Christian minister was no doubt shockedinto silence by his outburst of confidence. But he must know also thatthis occurred among a Christian community, long before either of theparties concerned knew of or were connected with the "Mormons. " SoChester explained this to the man at his side, who sat as if deaf towhat was being said. His gaze was fixed far out to sea. His lips did notnow quiver, but the lines in his face were rigid. 

Chester beckoned to the daughter, and when she came, he said:

"I think your father is not well. Perhaps he ought to go below andrest. "

"Father, " cried the somewhat frightened girl, "what is it? Are you ill?"

The father shook himself as if to be freed from some binding power, looked at Chester and then at Lucy, smiled faintly, and said:

"Oh, I'm all right now, but perhaps I ought to rest a bit. Will you godown with me, Lucy?"

The daughter took his arm and was about to lead him away. He stopped andturned again to Chester. 

"Excuse me, " he said, "but what was your mother's full name?"

"Anna Lawrence. "

"Thank you. All right, Lucy. Let's be going. "

Chester watched them disappear down the companionway, then looked out tosea at the black smoke made by a steamer crawling along the horizon, from Liverpool outward bound. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A number of men and women were sitting on the promenade deck forwardengaged in an earnest discussion. Just as Chester Lawrence came up andpaused to listen, for it seemed to be a public, free-for-all affair, henoticed that Elder Malby was talking, directing his remarks to a youngman in the group. 

"What is your objective point?" the Elder asked. "What do you live andwork for? What is your philosophy of life by which you are guided andfrom which you draw courage, hope, and strength?"

"Oh, I take the world as it comes to me day by day, trusting to luck, orto the Lord, perhaps I had better say, for the future, " replied theyoung fellow. 

"What would you think of a captain of a vessel not knowing nor caring toknow from what port he sailed or what port was his destination? Who didnot know the object of the voyage, knew nothing of how to meet thestorms, the fog, the darkness of the sea?"

"Well, I'm not the captain of a ship. "

"Yes, you are. You are the captain of your own soul, at least; and youmay not know how many more souls are depending upon you for guidance inthis voyage of life which we are all taking. "

"That's right--true, " agreed a number of by-standers. 

"Say, mister, " suggested one, "tell us what you think of thepropositions. You seem able to, all right. "

"Well, " responded the elder, "I don't want to preach a sermon that willbore you; but if the ladies and gentlemen here are interested I shall bepleased to give my views. "

"Sure--go on, " came from others. 

One or two found seats, as if they would rather sit through the ordeal, others following their example. "Yes; it's more comfortable, " agreedElder Malby, as they drew their chairs in a circle. Two people left, buttwo others came and took their places. 

"I hope we are all Christians, " began the speaker, "at least so far thatwe believe the Scriptures; otherwise my arguments will not appeal toyou. "

A number acknowledged themselves to be Christians. 

"Then I may begin by saying that the purpose of this life-voyage of oursis that we might obtain the life eternal. 'This is life eternal' that wemight know God and His Son Jesus Christ who was sent to us. If we knowthe Son we know the Father, for we are told that the Father has revealedHimself through the Son. This Son we know as Jesus Christ who was borninto the world as we were. He had a body of flesh. He was like us, Hisbrethren; yet this Being, the Scriptures tell us, was in the 'form ofGod;' that He was the 'image of the invisible God;' that He was 'in theexpress image of His Father's person. ' When Jesus lived on the earth, one of His disciples asked Him, 'Show us the Father. ' 'He that hath seenme, hath seen the Father, ' was the reply. 'I am the way, the truth, andthe life; no man cometh to the Father but by me. '"

At this point the Rev. Mr. Strong and his daughter came sauntering alongthe deck. They paused to listen, then accepted the chairs which Chesterhurriedly found for them. 

"I am not stating where in the Scriptures these quotations can befound, " continued the elder, "though I shall be pleased to do so to anywho wish to know. Well then, here we have a glorious truth: if we wishto know God, we are to study the Son. Jesus is the great Example, theRevealer of the Father. He is the Father's representative in form and inaction. If Jesus, the Son, is meek and lowly, so also is the Father; ifHe is wise and good and forgiving, so is the Father; if the Son islong-suffering and slow to anger, yet not afraid to denounce sin andcall to account the wicked, so likewise may we represent the Father. Allthe noble attributes which we find in the Son exist in perfectness inthe Father. 

"Picture this noble Son, the risen Redeemer, my friends, after Hisbattle with death and His victory over the grave! In the splendid gloryof His divine manhood, all power both in heaven and earth in His hand, He stands as _the_ shining figure of the ages. Why? Because He is 'GodWith Us. '"

There was perfect stillness in the group of listeners. 

"Thus the Father has shown Himself to us. There is no need for any of usto plead ignorance of our Divine Parent. The way is marked out, thepath, though at times difficult, is plain. The Son does the will of theFather. 'My Father worketh hitherto, and I work, ' said Jesus. 'The Soncan do nothing of Himself, but what He seeth the Father do; for whatthings soever He doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. ' We, then, are to follow Christ, as He follows the Father. Isn't that plain?"

"Do I understand, " asked one, "that you believe God to be in the form ofman?"

"Rather that man is in the form of God, for 'God created man in His ownimage. '"

"In His moral image only. God is a spirit. He is everywhere present, andtherefore cannot have a body, such as you claim, " objected one. 

"I claim nothing, my friend. I am only telling you what the Scripturesteach. They say nothing about a 'moral image. ' What is a moral image?Can it have an existence outside and apart from a personality of form?"

There was no immediate response to this. Some looked at the minister asif he ought to speak, but that person remained silent. 

"The attributes of God, as far as we know them, are easily put intowords; but try to think of goodness and mercy and love andlong-suffering and wisdom outside and apart from a consciouspersonality, an individual, if you please. Try it. "

Some appeared to be trying. 

"Pagan philosophers have largely taken from the world our trueconception of God, and given to us one 'without body, parts, orpassions. ' The Father has been robbed of His glorious personality in theminds of men. Christ also has been spiritualized into an unthinkablenothingness. And so, to be consistent some have concluded that man alsois non-existent; and it naturally follows that God and Christ and man, with the whole material universe, are relegated to the emptyness of adream. "

"If God is in the form of man He cannot be everywhere, " suggested one ofthe ladies. "And that's not a pleasant thought. "

"Our friend here, " continued the speaker, nodding to Mr. Strong, "quoteda passage in his splendid sermon last Sunday which explains how God maybe and is present in all His creations. Certainly God the Father cannotpersonally be in two places at the same time any more than God the Soncould or can. " The elder took a Bible from his pocket. 

"I had better read the passage. It is found in the 139th Psalm. Davidexclaims, 'Whither shall I go from thy _spirit_, or whither shall I fleefrom thy presence?' You will recall the rest of the passage. Is it notplain that the Lord is present by His Spirit always and everywhere. HisSpirit sustains and controls and blesses all things throughout theimmensity of space. Fear not, my friend, that that Spirit cannot bewith you and bless you on sea or on land. We cannot get outside itsworking power any more than we can escape the Spirit of Christ now andhere, even if His glorified body of flesh and bones now sits on theright hand of His Father in heaven where Stephen saw it. "

As is usual in all such discussions as this, some soon retire, otherslinger, eager not to miss a word. Lucy, you may be sure, was among thosewho remained. Her father also, sitting near to Chester, listened withdeep interest. 

"Just one more thought, " continued the "Mormon" elder, "in regard tothis lady's fear that God may not be able to take care of all Hischildren always and everywhere. God is essentially a Father--our Father. The fathering of God gives me great comfort. By fathering I mean that Hehas not only brought us into existence, but He has sent us forth, provides for us, watches over us. In our darkness He gives us light, inour weakness He lends us strength. He rebukes our wrong actions, andchastens us for our good. In fact, He fathers us to the end. Is it not agreat comfort?"

"It certainly is, " said Lucy, unconscious to all else but the spirit ofthe Elder's words. 

"In this world, " said the Elder, "the God-given power of creation isexercised unthoughtfully, unwisely, and often wickedly. Agood-for-nothing scamp may become a father in name; but he who attainsto that holy title in fact, must do as God does, --must love, cherish, sustain and make sacrifices for his child until his offspring becomesold enough and strong enough to stand for himself, --Don't you think so, Mr. Strong?"

All eyes were turned to the minister who was appealed to so directly. Had the reverend gentleman been listening, or had his thoughts been withhis eyes, out to sea? His face was a study. But that was not to bewondered at. Was he not a dispenser of the Word himself, and had he notbeen listening to strange doctrine? However, he soon shifted his gazefrom the horizon to his questioner. 

"Certainly, I agree with you, " he replied. "Father and fathering aredistinct things. Happy the man who combines them in his life--happy, indeed. "

The afternoon was growing to a close. The sun sank into the western sea. The Elder, carried along by the awakened missionary spirit, continuedhis talk. He explained that the Father had by means of the Son pointedout the way of life, called the plan of salvation, or gospel of JesusChrist. He spoke of faith, repentance, and baptism for the remission ofsins; for, said the Elder to himself, even the minister has need ofthese things. 

Lucy drank eagerly the words of life. Her father sat unmoved, making nocomment or objection. He had never been one to wrangle over religion;had prided himself, in fact, on being liberal and broad-minded; so hewould not dispute even though he could not altogether agree. The Elder'swords came to him in a strange way. Had he heard all this before? If so, it had been in some long-forgotten past; and this man's discourse onlyawakened a faint remembrance as of a distant bell tolling across thehills. Away back in his youth, he must have heard something like this;or was it an echo of some pre-existent world--he had heard of suchthings before. Perhaps it was the man's tone of voice, his mannerismthat recalled, in some way, some past impression. 

The Elder stopped. Lucy touched her father's arm. 

"Father, " she said, "I believe you are cold. I had better get yourcoat. "

The minister arose, as if stiffened in the joints by long sitting. Hereached out his hand to the Elder. "I have enjoyed your gospel talk, " hesaid. "May I ask your name, and to what Church you belong, for evidentlyyou are a preacher. "

"My name is George Malby, and I am an elder of the Church of JesusChrist of Latter-day Saints, commonly known as 'Mormons. '"

"A 'Mormon!'" a number of voices chorused. 

Some confusion followed, and the party broke up. Lucy, her father, andChester, still lingered. 

"Father, " said Lucy, "I had intended to introduce you to Elder Malby, but I wanted you to hear, unprejudiced, what he had to say. What he hasbeen teaching is 'Mormonism, ' and you'll admit now that it is not at allbad. You never would listen nor read. "

"Lucy--that will do. Good evening, gentlemen. Come Lucy. "

Later that same evening when most of the passengers had retired, theRev. Mr. Strong came up on deck again. He took off his cap so that thebreeze might blow unhindered through the thin, gray locks. He pacedslowly the length of the promenade deck with hands behind his back andeyes alternatingly looking into the dark sky and to the deck at hisfeet. The old man's usual erect form was bent a little as he walked, hisstep broke occasionally from the rhythmatical tread. There was war inthe minister's soul. Conflicting emotions fought desperately forascendency. Memories of the past mingled with the scenes of the present, and these became confused with the future. As a minister of the gospelfor half a lifetime, he had never had quite such a wildly disorderedmind. He wiped the perspiration from his brow. He groaned in spirit sothat moans escaped from his lips. The sea was beautifully still, butrather would he have had it as wild and as boisterous as that which waswithin his heart. 

The man paused now and then at the rail. The Irish coast was not faraway, and the lights of ships could be seen, westward bound. Theminister tried to follow in his mind these little floating worlds; butthey were too slow. Like the lightning he crossed the Atlantic and thenwith the same speed flew half way across the American continent to abig, black, busy city roaring with the traffic of men. Then out a fewmiles to the college, where he as a young divinity student had spentsome years of his early manhood--and there and then he had mether--Also, years later, the woman whom he had married--and at each bigmilestone in his journey of life there had been "Mormons" and"Mormonism. "

"'Mormonism, ' 'Mormonism, '" the man whispered hoarsely. "Anna--Clara--Lucy--Chester--and now--and now what! O, my God!"

It was nearly midnight when Lucy, becoming alarmed at her father's longabsence from his state room, came slowly on deck, stopping now and thento rest. She saw him by the rail, went up to him, took him by the armand with a few coaxing words led him down into his room. As he kissedher good-night with uncommon fervor, he looked into her upturned faceand said:

"Are you going to love this young man--Chester Lawrence?"

"Father, " she cried, "what do you mean?"

"Just what I say. I am not blind. I made him promise not to seek yourcompany or talk religion to you. Tomorrow I shall relieve him from thatpromise. "

"O, father!"

"There now, child, --and Lucy, he may talk of religion and love all hewants. I think those two things, when they are of the right kind andproperly blended, are good for the heart, don't you?"

"Yes, thank you, dear daddy--we are so near England now that I may callyou daddy. "

"Then good-night, my girl;" and he kissed her again in the doorway. 

CHAPTER VII. 

But next morning there was no time to talk of either love or religionfor Chester and Lucy. 

The coast of Ireland had been sighted earlier than had been expected, and there was the usual straining of eyes landward. Chester was amongthe first to see the dark points on the horizon which the seamen saidwas the Irish coast, and which as the vessel approached, expanded togreen hills, dotted with whitened houses. This then was Europe, old, historic Europe, land of our forefathers, land of the stories and thesongs that have come down to us from the distant past. 

"Good morning. What do you think of Ireland?" Lucy touched his arm. 

"Oh, good morning. You are up early. "

"I am feeling so fine this morning that I had to get up and join in thecry of 'Land ho. ' No matter how pleasant an ocean voyage has been, weare always pleased to see the land. Besides, we get off at Queenstown. "

"What!" exclaimed Chester. "I thought you were bound for Liverpool?"

"Yes, later; but we are to visit some of our people in Ireland first. Papa has a brother in Cork. We intend to remain there a few days, thengo on to Dublin, Liverpool, London, Paris, etc. , etc. , " laughed thegirl. 

Chester's heart sank. The separation was coming sooner than he hadthought. Only a few more hours, and this little sun-kissed voyage wouldend. He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo. Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning. Perhaps it was the Irishblood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers. Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with thesomewhat disheveled hair. There was a press of people along the railwhich caused Lucy's shoulders to snuggle closely to his side. Chesterwas silent. 

"Yes;" she went on, "there's dear old Ireland. You see, this is mysecond visit, and it's like coming home. You go on to Liverpool, Iunderstand. "

"I have a ticket to Liverpool, " he said; "but I suppose they would letme off at Queenstown, wouldn't they?"

"Why, certainly--how fast we are nearing land. I'll have to go down nowand awaken father. We haven't much time to get ready. "

He would have held her, had he dared. She was gone, and there were ahundred and one questions to ask her. She must not get away from himlike this. He must know where they were going--get addresses by which tofind them. He had no plans but what could be easily changed. SeeingEurope without Lucy Strong would be a dull, profitless excursion. Chester's thoughts ran along this line, when Lucy appeared again. Thecolor had left her face. 

"Father is very sick, " she said to Chester. "He seems in a stupor. Ican't wake him. Will you find the doctor?"

"I'll get him, " he said. "Don't worry. We'll be down immediately. "

Chester and the doctor found Lucy rubbing her father's hands andforehead, pleading softly for him to speak to her. The doctor after ahurried examination, said there was nothing serious. A nervousbreak-down of some kind only--no organic trouble--would be all rightagain shortly. 

"But doctor, we get off at Queenstown, " explained Lucy. 

"Well, I think you can manage it. By the time you are ready to leave, hewill be strong enough. This young man seems able to carry him ashore, ifneed be. Are you landing also, " he asked of Chester. 

"Well--yes. "

Lucy looked at the young man, but said nothing. The doctor promised tobring some medicine, then left. 

"But Mr. Lawrence--" began Lucy. 

"I'll listen to no objections, " interrupted he. "I couldn't think for amoment of leaving you two in this condition. You're hardly able to lifta glass of water, and now you father's ill also. No; I am going withyou, to be your body guard, your servant. Listen! I'm out to see the oldworld. I should very much like to begin with Queenstown and Cork. "

The father moved, opened his eyes, then sat up He passed his hand overhis face, then looked at the two young people. "It's all right, " hemuttered, then lay down again on the pillow. The doctor came with hismedicine. There were now heard the noise of trunks being hoisted fromthe hold and the bustle of getting ready to leave the ship. 

"Father, " said Lucy. "We must soon get ready to leave. Will you beable?"

"Yes, yes, child"--it seemed difficult for the old man to speak. 

"And Chester--Mr. Lawrence--here is to go with us and help us. "

"Yes. " He nodded as if it was easier to give assent in that way. 

"We'll make all things ready, daddy. Don't you worry. Rest as long asyou can. It will be some time yet before you will need to get up. "

The sick man nodded again. 

"I'll remain here while you get ready, " said Chester. "Then you mayattend while I do what little is necessary. I'll let my trunk go righton to Liverpool. 

Lucy hurried away and Chester sat down by the bed. As he smoothed outthe coverlet, the minister reached out and took Chester's hand which heheld in his own as if to get strength from it. There came into the oldman's face an expression of contentment, but he did not try to talk. 

Lucy returned, and Chester hurried to his own room where he soon packedhis few belongings and was ready. He found the elders on deck watchingthe approach to Queenstown, and explained to them what had happened tochange somewhat his plans. "I'll surely hunt you up, " he said to ElderMalby, "and visit with you;" and the Elder wished him God-speed and gavehim his blessing. 

Slowly the big ship sailed into Queenstown harbor, and then stopped. Theanchor chains rattled, the big iron grasped the bottom, and the vesselwas still. What a sensation to be once more at rest! Now out from theshore came a tender to take Queenstown passengers ashore. Small boatscame alongside from which came shrill cries to those far above on deck. A small rope was thrown up which was caught and hauled in by theinterested spectators. At the end of the small rope there dangled aheavier one, and at the end of that there was a loop into which agood-sized Irish woman slipped. "Pull away, " came from below, and half adozen men responded. Up came the woman, her feet climbing the sides ofthe steamer. With great good-nature the men pulled until the woman wason deck. Then she immediately let down the lighter rope to her companionin the small boat, where a basket was fastened and drawn up. From thebasket came apples, or "real Irish lace, " or sticks of peculiar Irishwoods, all of which found a ready sale among the passengers. 

From one of the lower decks of the steamer, a gang-way was pushed on tothe raised deck platform of the tender, and even then the incline wasquite steep. This bridge was well fastened by ropes, and then thepassengers began to descend, while their heavier baggage was piled onthe decks of the tender. 

Lucy and her father soon appeared. Chester met them below and helped thesick man up, along the deck, and down the gang-way to the tender, wherehe found a seat. Lucy followed, stewards carrying their hand baggage. From their new position they looked up to the steamer. How big it was!

The day was beautifully warm. Well wrapped in his coat, the fatherrested easily, watching with some interest the busy scene around him. Hebeing among the last to leave the liner, they were soon ready to be off. The gang-way was drawn in again, and the tender steamed away towards theinner harbor. The big ship weighed its anchor, then proceeded on itscourse to Liverpool, carrying away its little world of a week'sacquaintance, to which Chester and Lucy waved farewell. 

Queenstown, in terraced ranks, now rose before them. The pier was soonreached, from which most of the travelers continued their journey byrail. The minister and his party, however, took passage again on a smallboat for Cork. Everything being new to Chester, and the father beingquite unable to do anything, the initiative, at least, rested on Lucy. With Chester's help, she managed quite well. 

For an hour they sailed on the placid waters of the harbor and up intothe river Lee. The wooded hills, on either hand, dotted withfarm-houses and villas, presented a pleasing picture. The boat drew upto a landing at St. Patrick's Bridge, where Uncle Gilbert met them, greatly surprised and alarmed at his brother's condition. 

Carriages were waiting. Chester was introduced by Lucy in a way whichled to the inference that he was a particular friend of the familypicked up, perhaps, in their time of need. Bag and baggage was piled inbesides them and they drove away through the streets of Cork and intothe suburbs. Slowly the horse climbed the hill, but in a short time theywere at Uncle Gilbert's home, one of the beautiful ones situated amongthe green of rolling hillside and the deeper green of trees. 

There was another warm welcome by Aunt Sarah, who took immediate andpersonal charge of the sick man. 

"It's a break-down through overwork, " she declared. "You Americans liveat such fever heat that it is no wonder you have no nerves. They'reburned out of you. But it's rest only he wants, poor man; and here'swhere he'll get it. Don't you worry, Lucy. "

Aunt Sarah's masterful treatment of cases such as these took much careand anxiety from them all. Away from the bustle and roar of hurryinghumanity and traffic, resting amid the soothing green, and breathing themild air of the country; the minister ought surely to get well againsoon. 

He would not go to bed, but chose to sit in a big chair with a pillowunder his head, looking out of the upstairs window which afforded a viewof the town. The sun came in rather strongly during the afternoon andthe father motioned Lucy to partly draw the blind. She did so, then drewa stool to his chair and seated herself near him. He placed his hands onher head, patted it caressingly, smiled at her, but said nothing. It wasstill difficult for him to speak. 

Presently, there came a light tap at the door. Lucy arose. It wasChester. 

"Excuse me, " he said, "but the people below are somewhat confused overthe trunks. I came to inquire. "

"Come in, " said Lucy. "Let the 'confusion' continue for a little while. Come in to where there is peace. Father is feeling better, I am sure. "

The invalid turned towards the speakers, then with a movement of hishead told them to come near. Lucy took her former position, whileChester drew up a chair. Yes; he did seem better, there being some colorin his face to add life to his faint smile. 

"Chester, " he whispered with effort, as he reached out and took the youngman's hand, "Chester--my boy--I--am--so--glad--you--came--with--us. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

While the father was resting quietly at Kildare Villa, as UncleGilbert's home was called, Chester and Lucy spent a few days in lookingabout. 

"Are there any sights worth seeing around here?" asked Chester of Lucy. 

"Are there?" she replied in surprise. "Did you ever hear of the BlarneyStone?"

Yes; he had. 

"Well, that's not far away; and those were the Shandon bells you heardlast evening, 'The bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the river Lee, '"

she quoted. 

The fact of the matter was that Chester was quite content to remainquietly with Lucy and her father and the other good people of the place. Traveling around the country would, without doubt, separate them, andthat disaster would come soon enough, he thought; but when Lucyannounced that she was ready for a "personally conducted tour to allpoints of interest, " he readily agreed to be "conducted. " She was wellenough to do so, she said; and in fact it did look as if health werecoming to her again. 

The morning of the second day at Kildare Villa Chester and Lucy set outto see the town, riding in Aunt Sarah's car behind the pony. There hadbeen a sprinkle of rain during the night, so the roads were pleasant. Lucy pointed out the places of interest, consulting occasionally a guidebook. 

"While viewing the scenery, it is highly educational to get the properinformation, " said Lucy as she opened her book. "It states here thatCork is a city of 76, 000 people. According to one authority it had abeginning in the seventh century. Think of that now, and compare itsgrowth with that of Kansas City, for instance. "

"I have always associated this city with the small article used asstoppers for bottles, " said Chester. 

"You thought perhaps the British needed a cork to stop up their harbor, "said Lucy, gravely; "but you are entirely mistaken. The book says thename is a corruption of Corcach, meaning a marsh. The town has, however, long since overflowed the water, and now occupies not only a largeisland in the river, but reaches up the high banks on each side. "

They were evidently in Ireland. 

"A most noticeable peculiarity of Cork is its absolute want ofuniformity, and the striking contrasts in the colors of the houses. Thestone of which the houses in the northern suburb is built is of reddishbrown, that on the south, of a cold gray tint. Some are constructed ofred brick, some are sheathed in slate, some whitewashed; some reddened, some yellowed. Patrick may surely do as he likes with his own house. Themost conspicuous steeple in the place, that of St. Ann, Shandon's, isactually red two sides and white the others, 'Parti-colored, like the people, Red and white stands Shandon steeple. '

and there it is before us, " said Lucy. 

The tower loomed from a low, unpretentious church. The two visitorsdrove up the hill, stopped the horse while they looked at the tower andheard the bells strike the hour. 

"What Father Prout could see in such commonplace things to inspire himto write his fine poem, I can not understand, " said Lucy. "There is apeculiar jingle in his lines which stays with one. Listen:

 "'With deep affectation and recollection I often think of the Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in days of childhood Fling round my cradle their magic spells-- On this I ponder, where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork of thee With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the river Lee. '"

Lucy read the four stanzas. 

"It's fine, " agreed Chester; "and I think I can answer your question ofa moment ago. Father Prout, as he says, listened to these bells inchildhood days, those days when 'heaven lies about us' and glorifieseven the most common places, and the impressions he then receivedremained with him. "

Lucy "guessed" he was right. 

Then they drove by St. Fin Barre's cathedral, considered the mostnoteworthy and imposing building in Cork. "'It is thought probable thepoet Spenser was married in the church which formerly stood on thesite, '" Lucy read. "'His bride was a Cork lady, but of the country, notof the city. Spenser provokingly asks:

 "'Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see So fayre a creature in your town before? Her goodlie eyes, like sapphyres shining bright; Her forehead, ivory white, Her lips like cherries charming men to byte. '"

"Well, " remarked Chester as they drove homeward, and he thought he wasbrave in doing so. "I don't know about the merchants' daughters of Cork, but I know a minister's daughter of Kansas City, Missouri, U. S. A. , whotallies exactly with Spenser's description. "

"Why, Mr. Lawrence!"

"I might say more, " he persisted, "were it not for some foolish promisesI made that same minister a few days ago--but here we are. Where shallwe go after lunch?"

"I thought we were to go to Blarney Castle. "

"Sure. I had forgotten. That's where the Blarney Stone is?"

"Sure, " repeated the girl mischievously. 

So that afternoon they set out. It was but a short distance by trainthrough an interesting country. Lucy was the guide again. 

"Do you have an Irish language?" asked Chester. "I heard some nativestalking something I couldn't understand. "

"Of course there's an Irish language, " explained his fair instructor. "Anciently the Irish spoke the Gaelic, a branch of the Celtic. In thisreign of Queen Elizabeth, the Irish language was forbidden. The Englishis now universal, but many still speak the Gaelic. In recent years therehas been an awakening of interest in the old tongue. 'One who knowsIrish well, ' an Irish historian claims, 'will readily master Latin, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian;' and he adds that to theIrish-speaking people, the Irish language is 'rich, elegant, soul-stirring, and expressive. '"

"I can well believe the latter statement when I remember the actions ofthose using it, " said Chester. 

"Here we are, " announced Lucy, as they alighted and walked to theentrance of the park. "It will cost us six pence to get in. "

Chester paid the man at the gate a shilling. The castle loomed high onthe side of a hill, its big, square tower being about all that nowremains of the ancient structure. A woman was in charge of the castleproper. 

"The stone that you kiss is away up to the top, " explained Lucy. "Youwill have to go up alone, as I dare not climb the stairs. I'll waithere. But stop a minute; the impressions will be more lasting if you getthe proper information first. Here, we'll sit on this bench while I tellyou about the castle. "

Chester readily agreed to this. 

"To sentimental people, " began the girl, as she looked straight at thehigh walls in front, "Blarney Castle is the greatest object of interestin Southern Ireland; and, of course, the Blarney Stone is the center ofattraction. It was built by Cormack McCarthy about 1446. Of the siege ofthe castle by Cromwell's forces, under Irton, we have the followingpicturesque account in verse, which, I must say, has a Kipling-likering. "

She opened her book and read:

 "'It was now the poor boys of the castle looked over the wall, And they saw that ruffian, ould Cromwell, a-feeding on powder and ball, And the fellow that married his daughter, a-chawing grape-shot in his jaw, 'Twas bowld I-ray-ton they called him, and he was his brother-in-law. '

"The word 'Blarney' means pleasant, deludin' talk, said to haveoriginated at the court of Queen Elizabeth. McCarthy, the then chieftainover the clan of that name who resided at Blarney, was repeatedly askedto come in from 'off his keeping. ' He was always promising with fairwords and soft speech to do what was desired, but never could be got tocome to the sticking point. The queen, it is told, when one of hisspeeches was brought to her, said: 'This is all Blarney; what he says, he never means. '

"Now, this is the reason for kissing the stone up there in the tower. Listen:

 "'There is a stone there, whoever kisses, Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent; 'Tis he may clamber to a lady's chamber, Or become a Member of Parliament. A clever spouter, he'll sure turn out, or An "out--an'--outer" to be let alone; Don't hope to hinder him, or to bewilder him, Sure, he's a pilgrim from the Blarney Stone. '

"Now, then, these are the facts in the case, " concluded Lucy. "Proceedto do. "

Chester climbed the long stairs to the top. From the western edge, helooked down and waved at Lucy, then hurriedly scanned the beautifulprospect about him. The wonderful stone then drew his attention. It isset in the parapet wall, being one of the under stones in the middle ofthe tower. This parapet does not form part of the wall, but is detachedfrom it, being built out about two feet and supported by a sort ofscaffolding brace of masonry. This leaves a space between the battlementand the wall, which in olden times, enabled the defenders to drop stonesand other trifles on to the heads of assailants one hundred twenty feetbelow. Two iron bands now reach around the famous stone, spanning theopen space, and fastened to the wall. The aspirant who wishes to kissthe stone, must grasp these irons, one in each hand, and hang on fordear life. As the stone is underneath the parapet, the feat of kissingit is not easy. In the first place, one must lie on one's back, thenwith head extended over the wall, the head must be bent down and backfar enough to touch the lips to the stone. To perform the feat safely, there must be assistants at hand who must hold one's legs in steadygrip, and others who must sit on the lower part of the body to assurethe proper equilibrium. 

Being entirely alone, it is needless to say, Chester did not kiss theBlarney Stone. He was satisfied with reaching under and touching it withhis hand. Then he returned to Lucy. 

"You did not kiss the stone, " she immediately declared. 

"You know, don't you, that it takes two to kiss--the Blarney Stone?"

"I've heard it so stated. I've never been up to it. "

The park around the castle is very inviting, especially on a fine, warmafternoon. There are big trees, grass, and neatly kept walks. Chesterand Lucy sauntered under the trees. A tiny brook gurgled near by, thebirds were singing. Lucy chattered merrily along, but Chester was not sotalkative. She noticed his mood and asked why he was so silent. 

"I was thinking of that promise. I fear I am not doing right. "

"O, that reminds me--Father, of course could not--"

"Could not what?"

"Well, the night before he became so ill on the boat he told me he wasgoing to release you from any promise not to meet me and talk religionto me. "

"Did he say that?" They paused in their walk. 

"Yes; and he meant it--he means it now, if he could but say as much. "

"I thank you for telling me * * * Let us sit down here on this rusticseat. Do you know, I believe your father has gotten over his firstdislike for me. "

"O, yes, he has. I think he likes you very much. "

"I was not surprised at his actions when I told him I was a 'Mormon. ' Hecan hardly be blamed, in view of the life-long training he has had. Andthen, knowing that you have been in danger from that source before madehim over-sensitive on the point. I marvel now that he treats me sowell. "

Lucy looked her happiness, rather than expressed it. The guide book layopen on her lap. Chester picked it up, looked at a picture of BlarneyCastle, and then read aloud:

 "'There's gravel walk there, For speculation, And conversation In sweet solitude. 'Tis there the lover May hear the dove, or The gentle plover In the afternoon. '

"Lucy, " said Chester, as he closed the book, "I'm going to call youLucy--I can't call you Miss Strong in such a lovely place as this. Wehave an hour or two before we must return, and I want to talk over a fewmatters while we have the chance. In the first place, I want you to tellme where you are going when you leave Ireland. I want to keep track ofyou--I don't want to lose you. If your father would not object, I shouldlike to travel along with you. "

"Father may remain here a long time, so long that we may not get to seemuch of Europe, and of course, you can't wait here for us. "

"Now listen, Lucy. _You_ are Europe to me. I believe you are the wholeworld. "

She did not turn from him, though she looked down to the grass where thepoint of her sunshade now rested. Her face was diffused with color. 

"Forgive me for saying so much, " he continued, "for I realize I am quitea stranger to you. "

"A stranger?" she asked. 

"Yes; we have not known each other long. You don't know much about me. "

"I seem to have known you a long time, " she said, looking up. "I oftenthink I have met you before. Sometimes I imagine you look like theyoung missionary whom I first heard on the streets of Kansas City; butof course, that can't be. "

"No; I never was on a mission. But I'm glad you think of me as you do, for then you'll let me come and see you in London, in Paris and whereveryou go. I assure you, it would be rather uninteresting sight-seeingwithout your presence, if not always in person, then in spirit. Afterall, much depends on the condition of the eyes with which one looks onan object whether it is interesting or not. "

Then the talk led to personal matters. He spoke of his experiences inUtah--some of them--and she fold him her simple life's story. Her motherhad died many years ago; she had no very distinct recollection of her. She and her father had lived with housekeepers for many years. What withschool and home, the one trip before to Europe, a number of excursionsto various parts of her own country, her life had passed very smoothlyand very quietly among her friends and books. As Chester listened to herhe thought how like in some respects her story was to that of JuliaElston's. And as she sat there under the trees, she again looked likeJulia, yet with a difference. Somehow the first girl had vanished butshe had left behind in his heart a susceptibility to a form and facelike this one beside him. Julia had come into his heart, not to dwellthere, but to purify it, adorn it, and to make it ready for someoneelse;--and that other person had come. She filled the sanctuary of hisheart. Peace and love beyond the telling were inmates with her. Had henot come to his own at last. 

That afternoon, as he sat with Lucy under the trees at Blarney, listening to her story, told in simplicity with eyes alternating betweensmiles and tears, he felt so near heaven that his prayers went easilyahead of him to the throne of mercy and love, bearing a message ofpraise and gratitude to the Giver of all good. 

These two were quite alone that afternoon. Even the care-taker wentwithin the thick walls of the castle, remembering, perhaps, that shealso had been young once. Birds may have eyes to see and ears to hear, but they tell nothing to humans. 

On the way back to Cork there was only one other passenger in thecar, --an Irish girl carrying a basket in which were two white kittens. About half way to the city, the train stopped, and much to thetravelers' surprise, a company of about two hundred Gordon Highlandersboarded the train, filling the cars completely. 

"What, " asked Chester. "Have the Scotch invaded Ireland?"

"I suppose it's a company just out for a bit of exercise, " suggestedLucy. 

Their bare, brown legs, kilts and equipment were matters of muchinterest to Chester. When the train arrived in Cork, the soldiersformed, and with bagpipes squeeling their loudest, they marched into St. Patrick's street. Chester and Lucy and the girl with the basketfollowed. 

"This is quite an honor, " remarked Chester, "to have a company ofsoldiers come to meet us, and to be escorted into town by music likethis. How did _they_ know?"

"Know what?" escaped from Lucy before she discerned his meaning. 

"Why, you silly man, " she replied, "the honor is for the kittens!"

Uncle Gilbert met them at the door. "Your father is sleeping--gettingalong fine, " he explained. "Now then, young man, did you kiss theBlarney Stone?"

"Why--no--I--"

"You didn't! You missed the greatest opportunity in your life. "

"Oh, no, I didn't. " replied Chester. "Far from it. "

Lucy, rosy red, fled past her teasing uncle into the house. 

CHAPTER IX. 

A warm, gentle rain was falling. No regrets or complaints were heard atKildare Villa, for, as Uncle Gilbert said, the farmers needed it, he andhis people were comfortably housed, and the excursionists--meaningChester and Lucy--would do well to remain quiet for a day. 

The minister had so far recovered that he walked unaided into the largeliving room, where a fire in the grate shed a genial warmth. Chester andLucy were already there, she at the piano and he singing softly. Atsight of her father, Lucy ran to him, helped him to a seat, then kissedhim good morning. 

"How much better you are!" she said. 

"Yes; I am glad I am nearly myself again--thanks to Aunt Sarah, " hesaid, as that good woman entered the room with pillows and footrest forthe invalid, who was made quite comfortable. Then the aunt delivered himto the care of the two young people, with an admonition against draftsand loud noises. 

"All right, daddy; now what can we do for you?" asked Lucy. 

"You were singing--when I came in. * * * Sing the song again. "

"But loud noises, you know. "

"Sing--softly, " he replied. 

The two went back to the piano. Lucy played and both sang in wellmodulated, subdued voices, "Jesus, I my cross have taken All to leave and follow Thee; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence my all shall be. Perish every fond ambition, All I've sought, or hoped, or known, Yet how rich is my condition, God and heaven are still my own. "

They sang the three stanzas. The two voices blended beautifully. Thefather asked them to sing the song again, which they did. Then they sangothers, some of which were not familiar to the listener. 

 "Oh, how lovely was the morning, Brightly beamed the sun above. "

"What was that last song?" inquired the father. 

The two singers looked at each other as if they had been caught in someforbidden act. 

"Why"--hesitated Lucy, "that's a Sunday School song. "

"A 'Mormon' song?"

"Yes. "

"Sing--it again, " he said as he lay back on his pillows, closed his eyesand listened. 

"Do you know any more--'Mormon' songs?"

Lucy, of course, did not know many. Chester managed "O, my Father, " andone or two more. Then Lucy closed the piano and went back to her father, where she stood smoothing gently his gray hair. Thus they talked andread and sang a little more, while the rain fell gently without. 

"This is a beautiful country, " said Chester, looking out of the window. "I do not blame people who have money, desiring to live here. " Lucy cameto the window also, and they stood looking out on the rain-washed green. The father lay still in his chair, and presently he went to sleep. Chester and Lucy then retired to a corner, and carried on theirconversation in low tones. Faint noises from other parts of the housecame to them. From without, only the occasional shrill whistle of alocomotive disturbed the silence. The fire burned low in the grate. 

Suddenly, the father awoke with a start. "I tell you he is my son, " hesaid aloud. "I am his father, and I ought to father him--my heart goesout--my son--"

"What is it, father?" cried Lucy, running to him, and putting her armaround his shoulders. 

The father looked about, fully awakened. 

"I was only dreaming, " he explained. "Did I talk in my sleep?"

Just then Uncle Gilbert came in. He announced that tomorrow he would ofnecessity have to leave for Liverpool. It would be a short trip only; hewould be back in two or three days, during which all of them shouldcontinue to make themselves comfortable. 

"George, here, is getting along famously, " he declared. "A few more daysof absolute rest, and you'll be all right, eh, brother?"

"I think so. "

Aunt Sarah now announced luncheon, and they all filed out of the room. 

That evening the two brothers were alone. "I want to talk to you, " thevisitor had said; and his brother was willing that he should. Evidently, something weighed heavily on his mind, some imaginary trouble, broughton by his weakened physical condition. 

"Now, what is it, brother, " said Gilbert as they sat comfortably intheir room. 

"You know that in my younger days I had a little trouble"--began theminister, now speaking quite freely. 

"I don't recall what you mean. "

"When I was studying for the ministry--a woman, you--"

"O, yes; I remember; but what of it? That's past and forgotten longago. "

"Past, but not forgotten. I have tried to forget, the Lord knows, bylong years of service in the ministry. I hope the Lord has forgiven--butI forgotten, Oh, no. "

"Look here, brother, you are over-sensitive just now because of yourphysical condition. You have nothing to worry over. That littleyouthful indiscretion--"

"But there was a child, Gilbert, a boy. "

"Well, what of it?"

"That was my boy. I am his father. What has become of him? Where is henow? Flesh of my flesh, is he handicapped by the stigma I placed uponhim? Is he, perchance, groveling in the gutter, because I cast himoff--had no thought or care for him--"

"Now, look here--"

"Listen. I became a father, then shirked the responsibility offatherhood. A new word rings in my ears, 'FATHERING. ' I can see itsmighty import. I who have spoken the words of the great Father for thesemany years, have not followed His example. Listen, brother: if that sonof mine is alive, and I believe he is, I am going to find and claimhim--and not once more do I preach until I do. "

The brother was somewhat alarmed, showing it in his countenance. 

"You may think I am out of my head; but I never was saner in my life. Mythoughts are as clear as a bell, and now that I have said what I wantedto, I feel better. That's all--don't you worry about me. Now go to bed. You are to be off in the morning, you know. Good night. "

As Gilbert walked out, his mind not altogether clear about his brother, Lucy was at the door waiting to bid her father good night. 

"May I come in?" she asked. 

"Yes; come along. "

"I wanted just to say good night. "

"That's right, my girl; and where is Chester?"

"He--I don't know. I think he's retired. "

"You're looking so well, these days. Are you happy?"

"Yes, daddy; so happy--and so much better, I believe. "

"All right--there now, good night. If Chester is without, tell him tocome in a moment. "

She kissed him again, then slipped out. Presently, Chester entered. 

"Did you wish to see me, Mr. Strong?"

"Yes--that is, just to say good night--and to tell you that I ambetter--and also to thank you for taking such good care of Lucy. "

"Why, I assure you--"

"Wait a moment. Stand right where you are, there in that light--you'llexcuse a sick man's humors, I know; but someone told me today that wetwo look very much alike. I was just wondering whether it was a fancyonly--but I can't tell, nor you can't tell. It always takes a thirdperson to say. "

"Yes; I suppose it does, " laughed Chester. "But I don't object to theresemblance. "

"Nor I, my boy. Come here. Continue to take good care of Lucy. She's agood, sweet girl. " The man arose, as if to be off to bed. Chester puthis arm around him. 

"Let me help you, " said the young man. "You are not very strong yet. "

"Thank you. " He put his arm about Chester's neck so that the strongerman could nearly carry the weaker. As they walked slowly across the roomunder the lamps anyone could see a striking resemblance between the twomen. As they said good night and parted at the father's door, the olderman's hand patted softly the young man's cheek. Chester felt the touch, so strange that it thrilled him. "That was for Lucy's sake, " he said tohimself as he sought the quietness of his own room. 

 * * * * *

There were no apparent reasons why Chester Lawrence should not accompanyUncle Gilbert to Liverpool, so neither Chester nor Lucy tried to findany. Plans for meeting in London and on the continent were fully maturedand understood. The separation would be for a week or fortnight at most. Lucy and Aunt Sarah waved their goodbyes as the train drew out of Corkfor Dublin. 

Chester now understood why Ireland was called the Emerald Isle. Green, green, everywhere--fields and hedges, trees and bushes, bogs andhills--everything was green. Uncle Gilbert gave him full information onall points of interest. 

At Dublin they had a few hours to wait for the boat, so they lookedaround the city, not forgetting the beautiful Phoenix Park. It wasevening when they went on board the steamer and to bed. Next morning, they were awakened by the rattling of cables and chains as they slidinto a dock at Liverpool. 

Chester and Gilbert Strong parted company at Liverpool, the latter toattend to the business which had brought him there, the former to seek aplace of lodging. First he found 42 Islington, the headquarters of themission, introduced himself to the elders in charge, and asked them todirect him to some cheap, but respectable lodgings. He was shown to anearby hotel where the missionaries usually put up, where he obtained aroom. Then he went to the steamship company's office at the pier, obtained his trunk, and had it taken to his lodgings. After a bath, ageneral clean-up and change of clothing, he was ready for the town, orall England for that matter. 

He went back to "42" for further information. He noticed that the slumdistrict of the town pressed closely on to the office quarters, and hesaw some sights even that first afternoon which shocked him: dirty, ragged children, playing in the gutters; boys and girls and women goingin to dram shops and bringing out mugs of beer; men and women drunken. One sight specially horrified him: a woman, dirty, naked shoulders andarms; feet and legs bare; a filthy skirt and bodice open at the breast;hair matted and wild; reeling along the pavement, crying out in drunkenexclamations and mutterings. It was the most sickening sight the youngman had ever seen, and with perhaps the exception of a fight hewitnessed some days later between two such characters, the worstspectacle of his life. 

All this sordid life so strange and new, drew the attention of the youngwesterner. Especially did 42 Islington interest him; for this was anhistoric spot for "Mormonism. " From here the early missionaries had sentforth the message of salvation to Great Britain, in fact, to the wholeof Europe. Here within these dingy rooms had trod the strong, sturdycharacters of the pioneer days of the Church. Perhaps in some of theserooms Orson Pratt had written his masterly presentation of the gospel. In those days, very likely, there were not so many noises of traffic andrestless humanity. Perhaps such men could take with them the peace andsublime solitude of their home in the Western Mountains into theconfusing din of the big city, and remain undisturbed. And these werehappy, even as the present elders were, laboring, with a clearconscience for the salvation of souls. There came to Chester, as hethought of these things, an expression he had read: "Outside thingscannot make you happy, unless they fit with something inside; and theyare so few and so common that the smallest room can hold them. "

That same evening there was a meeting of the Saints which Chesterattended. The congregation was small, much smaller even than those ofChicago. Most of the people present appeared to be of the humbler, working classes; but there was the same light in their faces as thatwhich shone in faces on the other side of the world, when enlightened bythe Spirit of God. Everywhere, Chester noticed, this Spirit was thesame, giving to rich and poor, learned and unlearned alike, the joy ofits presence. 

"Come around tomorrow, and we'll take a look about the city, " said oneof the elders to Chester. "Sitting cramped over a desk day after day, makes it necessary for me to get out once in a while. "

The afternoon of the following day, Chester called for his friend in theoffice, and they set out. "I want you to get rid of the firstimpressions of Liverpool, " explained the elder. "I want you to get awayfrom the noise and dirt to the green and quiet and beauty of the town. "

First they took a car to the Botanical Gardens, looked at the flowerbeds and inspected the palm-house. Then they walked across the open tothe farther side, followed a short street or two into the big, opengrass-covered Wavertree Playground. Thence it was a short walk to SeftonPark with its varied and extensive beauties. They watched the childrensail their toy crafts on the lake. There were some men even, trying outmodel boats. The bird cage was interesting. The grotto, as usual, washard to find. The palm-house took a good part of their time, for thebeautiful statue of Burn's Highland Mary, gleaming white from a bed ofgreen, took Chester's attention, as also the historical figuressurrounding the house. One of these was of Columbus with an inscriptionclaiming that he had very much to do with the making of Liverpool, which is no doubt true. 

The weather was fine, the air was balmy; many people were out. Chesterand his companion strolled about the walks and across the velvetystretches of grass. They watched for a time, a "gentlemanly game ofcricket, " but it was too slow altogether for the Americans. 

It was well towards sundown when the two young men took a car back toIslington. "Another day we'll see Newsham Park, and the country aroundKnotty Ash way. Then again, there is some beautiful country up theMersey and across to Birkenhead. " The visitor was grateful for theseoffers. 

That evening Chester addressed some post-cards to his few friends inChicago, one to Hugh Elston, one to Elder Malby in London, and one toLucy May Strong, Kildare Villa, Cork, Ireland. He lingered somewhat overthis latter, lost somewhat in wonder at recent events. Was not thisocean trip and the Irish experience a dream? The noise and smoke abouthim were surely that of Chicago, and he was sitting in his room there inhis normal condition of homelessness and friendlessness? Had he not thatday been out with an elder from the Chicago Church office to LincolnPark and the lakeside? Surely Lucy and the minister, and Kildare Villaand Blarney were figments of a pleasant dream! Chester walked back andforth in the small room. He stopped before a dingy map of Great Britainon the wall. His finger touched Ireland, moved southward, and stoppedat Cork. Yes; there _was_ such a place, any way, so there must beShandon Bells and the Blarney Stone, and a rustic seat under the treesat Blarney Castle. Well, if all else under the sun were imaginary, thathour of bliss at Blarney when Chester told Lucy he loved her, and Lucytold Chester the same sweet words--that was real. He would live in thatreality, for it far surpassed his dreams. 

Chester looked again at the post-card he had addressed to Kildare Villa, placed it aside, and wrote in its place a long letter. 

CHAPTER X. 

Twenty miles out of London. The sun is shining, and the train glidesalong by green fields, hedges of hawthorn, and blossoming trees. Englandlooks to be the huge, well-cared-for farm of a very rich man. This maybe explained by the fact that England is an old country, having beenplowed and planted and harrowed for close on to a thousand years beforeAmerica was discovered. This long period of cultivation gives thecountry-side a mellowness and well-groomed look. The vaporous sunlightsoftens all the outlines, hides the harsh features, and gives thelandscape its dreamy, far-away, misty loveliness. There seems to be noangles in the scene; field melts into field, and hedge into hedge, withhere and there a ribbon of a road which seems to join them rather thanto separate them. The houses are of brick or of stone, many partlyhidden under the climbing ivy or roses. 

Chester Lawrence is accompanying Elder Malby eastward from Londonthrough Kent to Margate and Ramsgate on the coast. Elder Malby is toattend to some Church duties, and Chester, by invitation, was glad toaccompany him. It was the young man's policy to keep in touch as much aspossible with the elders and their work, and he was getting somewhat ofthe missionary spirit himself. He was greatly enjoying this ridethrough the beautiful country. 

"It's really wonderful, " said Chester, looking out of the car window, "this coming from London into the country. Where are all the people? Arethey all in town? Some cows are browsing in the pastures, and sheepscurry about as the train flies by, but where are the people who havemade this great garden?"

"You must remember, " explained Chester's companion, "all this has notbeen done hurriedly by many people within a short time. What theEnglishman doesn't do today he can do tomorrow; and so centuries of workby a few men has produced what we see. "

"Well, I do occasionally see a few slow-moving men and women, somberlyclad in grays and browns. These, I suppose, are the sturdy supporters oftheir country. "

"Here is something I clipped from an American magazine, " said ElderMalby, "which impressed me with its peculiar truth. " He read:

"'England is London says one, England is Parliament says another, England is the Empire says still another; but if I be not much mistaken, this stretch of green fields, these hills and valleys, these hedges andfruit trees, this soft landscape, is the England men love. In India andCanada, in their ships at sea, in their knots of soldiery all over theworld, Englishmen must close their eyes at times, and when they do, theysee these fields green and brown, these hedges dusted with the softsnow of blossoms, these houses hung with roses and ivy, and when theeyes open, they are moist with these memories. The pioneer, the sailor, the soldier, the colonist may fight, and struggle and suffer, andproclaim his pride in his new home and possessions, but these are thelove of a wife, of children, of friends; that other is the love, withits touch of adoration, that is not less nor more, but still different, that mysterious mingling of care for, and awe of, the one who broughtyou into the world. 

"'This is the England, I take it, that makes one feel his duty to be hisreligion, and the England that every American comes to as to a shrine. When this is sunk in the sea, or trampled over by a host of invadingGermans, or mauled into bankruptcy by pandering politicians and soursocialists, one of the most delightful spots in the whole world willhave been lost, and no artist ever be able to paint such a pictureagain, for nowhere else is there just this texture of canvas, just thisquality if pigment, just these fifteen centuries of atmosphere. ' I thinkthis sums it up nicely, " commented Elder Malby. 

"Ireland is a pretty fine country, too, " said Chester, with far-awaytone, still gazing out of the window. 

Elder Malby laughed heartily, in which his companion joined. Chester hadtold him his Irish experiences. 

Ramsgate is a pretty town on the east coast. It being Sunday, the shopswere closed and the streets quiet. After some enquiries and searching, the local elder was found in the outskirts of the town. The two visitorswere warmly received. A good old-fashioned English dinner was served, after which the few Saints living in the vicinity gathered for meeting. Never before had Chester Lawrence experienced the comforting Spirit ofthe Lord as in that service when he partook with those simple, open-minded people the sacrament, and listened to their testimonies, inwhich he mingled his own. 

After the services, there was the usual lingering to shake hands andexchange good words. In the midst of the confusion of voices andlaughter, a large man appeared in the open doorway, and immediatelythere was a hush. It was the parish priest, round and sleek, yet sternof countenance. He looked about the room and found a good many of hisneighbors present. 

"Well, good people, " said he, "what are you doing here?"

The local elder explained civilly the purpose of the gathering. 

"But these men who are holding these services are 'Mormons, ' and I cometo warn you that they are wolves in sheep's clothing. Beware of them, let them alone, " said the priest in rising accents. 

The people stood about the room, quietly listening. Elder Malby andChester were yet by the table which had served as a pulpit, and to themthe priest advanced. 

"Are you the 'Mormon' elders?" he demanded. 

"We have that honor, " serenely replied Elder Malby. 

"You ought to be ashamed to come here to a Christian community with yourvile doctrine. I warn you to keep away. "

"Will you be seated, sir?" asked Elder Malby, who took charge of thesituation. A number of people, who had evidently followed the priest tosee the "fun, " came in and gathered round. 

"I'll not sit down. I'll deliver my message to you all, " he declared ashe turned to the people. "You may not believe what I say about thesemen, that they are not what they pretend; but let me read to you from anAmerican paper--printed in their own land. Listen:

"'So fully apparent is the pernicious activity of "Mormonism" of late, that a general campaign of opposition is being urged against them invarious parts of the country. It has been conclusively shown, bystudents of the question, that the "Mormon" Church is simply a greatsecret society, engaging in criminal practices under the cloak of theirreligion--"

There was a hum of protest in the room. Elder Malby raised a hand ofwarning to let the intruder proceed. 

"'The attitude of "Mormonism" towards moral questions and its disregardfor the laws, have been shown again and again. "Mormon" missionaries arenow making a systematic canvas of every state in the Union, as well asin Great Britain and other foreign countries. Every home, especially ofthe poor and uneducated is to be visited. It would therefore be the partof wisdom to give a timely word of warning. This is a time to cry aloudand spare not, lest many be led astray by these pernicious teachings. '"

The minister followed up this reading by a stream of personal abuseagainst "Mormons" in general and Elder Malby--whose name he knew--inparticular. Chester watched with keen interest the proceedings. ElderMalby's face was a study. The angry priest paused, then stopped. 

"Are you through, sir?" asked Elder Malby quietly. There was no reply, so he continued. "If you are, I wish to say a word. You are entirelymistaken, my dear sir. I have not come here to mislead or to teach anysuch doctrine as you claim. True, I am now an American citizen, but Iwas born an Englishman. This is my native country, and I have as muchright to be here as you have; and, thank God, this country provides forfree speech and allows every man to worship God according to thedictates of his conscience. I love this, my native land--I love these, my people. That's why I am here to preach to them the gospel of JesusChrist. "

"You're a farmer, and not a minister, " sneered the priest. 

"Peter was a fisherman and Paul was a tent-maker, " replied the Eldercalmly. "I suppose, sir, that if either of these men came here topreach, you would look upon their occupation as a reproach. "

There was no reply, so the "Mormon" continued. "It is true I am afarmer. Some of my friends here know that, because sometimes I assistthem in the fields. And I have given them some helpful American hintstoo, have I not, Brother Naylor?"

"Aye, that you have. "

"Religion is not a thing apart from daily life, " said Elder Malby, speaking more to the listening people than to the priest. "A trulyreligious person works with hands and brains as well as prays with lipsand heart. Let me tell you, good people, the 'Mormons' have shown to theworld that heart and hand, faith and works must go together. A religionwhich withdraws itself apart from the common people into seclusions ofprayer and contemplation alone is of no value in this world. Theactivities of this life and this world is the proper field for religion, for it is here that we prepare for a future life. The "Mormon" ministercan plow, if he is a farmer, as well as preach. He digs canals, makesroads through the wilderness, provides work and play for those who lookto him for guidance. Again, let me call your attention to something the"_Mormon_" preacher does: he preaches for the love of the souls of men, and not for a salary. "

"You're a tramp, " said the priest. 

"Not exactly, my friend, " replied the Elder, looking into the priest'sface. "I pay my way, from money earned at home on my farm. Most of thepeople here know me, but some are strangers. Let me tell you, briefly, my story. "

"Go on, " some one near the door shouted. 

"I was born a few miles from here. My parents were very poor, but honestand respectable. I had a longing to go to America, so by dint of long, hard work and saving, I obtained the passage money. On the way I becameacquainted with the Mormons. ' I knew they were the people of God, and Iwent with them to the West, which was a new country then. I was apioneer. I took up wild, unbroken land, built me a cabin and made me afarm. It was hard work, but, the exhilaration of working for one's selfgives courage and strength. Now I have a good farm, and a good house. Iam not rich in worldly wealth. We must still economize carefully. Here--would you like to see my home in America?"

He took from his pocket a photograph and handed it to the nearestperson, who passed it on. "That house I built with my own hands, most ofit. Those trees I planted. I made the fence and dug the water ditch. That's my wife standing by the gate--yes, the only one I have, or everhad--that's my youngest child on the porch, the only one at home now. The others have married and have homes of their own. Here, I remember, Ireceived a letter from my wife yesterday. Would you like to read it, sir?" addressing the priest who was now preparing to leave. 

"The letter will prove that I am not a tramp, sir. Read it aloud tothese people. " The Elder held the letter in his extended hand. 

"I'll have nothing further to do with you. I don't want to read yourletter, " retorted the priest. 

"Read it, read it, " came from a number; but the priest, unheedinglypassed out of the door and down the path. The gate clicked. 

"I'll read it, " volunteered a man, one of the strangers who had come inlater. He took the letter, and read so that all might hear, which wasnot difficult in that quieted room:

"'Dear George: By this time I suppose you are in Old England again, andhave fairly started in your missionary work. We received your card fromChicago and your letter from New York. I hope you had a pleasant voyageacross the ocean, and were not seasick. 

"'We are all well at home, only a bit lonesome, of course. Janie missesyou very much. She hardly knows what to do with herself in the evening. I was over to George's last night, and when I came in the door the babycried "grandpa" before she saw who it was. The little thing looks allaround and can't understand why you don't come. Lizzie's baby has themeasles, but is getting along nicely. 

"I drove around by the field from meeting last Sunday. The wheat isgrowing fine. The Bishop said it was the finest stand he had ever seen. George and Henry are now working on the ditch, and they said they'd workout your assessment while they were about it. We have had a good deal ofrain lately. 

"'I spoke to Brother Jenson about those two steers. He said prices werelow at present and advised me to wait a little while before sellingthem. If you need the money very soon, of course I'll tell him to takethem next time he calls. My eggs and butter help us out wonderfully, aswe two don't require much. The Sunday eggs, you know, go towards themeeting house fund, and Janie claims the "Saturday crop. " She needs anew school dress which Lizzie has promised to make. 

"'Now, that's about all the news. I hope your health will continue goodand that you are enjoying your mission. Don't worry about us. The Lordwill provide. We want to do our part in sending the gospel to those whohave it not. Our faith and prayers are always with you. 

"'Your loving wife, "'JANE MALBY. 

"'P. S. I forgot to tell you that the Jersey cow you bought from BrotherJones has had twin calves, both heifers. Isn't that fine? J. M. '"

The reader folded the letter and handed it back to its owner. Thepostscript saved the situation, for the wet eyes found relief in themerry laugh which it brought forth. 

CHAPTER XI. 

On Chester's return to London, he found the following note from Lucy:

"We're all coming--father and Uncle Gilbert and I. What do you think ofthat? Father is well enough to travel, and he has prevailed upon hisbrother to accompany us. In fact, I think that Uncle imagines we are twoinvalids and need his care--I'm glad he does. I'm so busy packing, Ihaven't time to write more. Will tell you all about it when I see you. Meet us at St. Pancras station Thursday, at 6 p. M. 

"With love from

"LUCY. "

Elder Malby accompanied Chester to the station to meet his friends fromIreland. The two brothers were fairly well acquainted with London, sothey had no trouble in finding a hotel in a quiet part of the city. Lucy's father seemed himself again. He walked with a cane, which, however, may have been his regular European custom. Lucy was uncommonlywell, declaring that the long journey had not tired her a bit. 

Plans were discussed in the hotel that evening, and it was finallydecided to go to Paris by way of Rotterdam, Antwerp and Brussels. Thestages would have to be easy for the sake of the "two invalids, " asUncle Gilbert put it, to which Chester heartily agreed. 

Late the next morning, for the travelers needed the rest, Chester calledfor them, and the party of four saw a little of London from the top of a'bus. The weather continued fair, and as the summer was well advanced, the air was warm. The sightseers had a simple luncheon at a small cafewhich Uncle Gilbert knew near the British Museum, and then theycontinued their rambles until the close of the afternoon, when Chesterput them down at the "Mormon" mission headquarters. 

Elder Malby received them warmly, provided easy seats for Lucy and herfather, and took hats and wraps under protestations that they were notgoing to stay. A number of missionaries came in and they wereintroduced. Lucy beamed with delight, her father unreservedly told theyoung men they were from America, --and western America at that; butUncle Gilbert was not quite at his ease among the new company. He knew, of course, that these people were "Mormons, " and his knowledge of"Mormons" and their ways, although somewhat vague, was not reassuring. 

When the good-natured English housekeeper announced that supper wasready, it seemed impossible to do otherwise than to follow her and ElderMalby down to the large basement room. In fact, Lucy, without any ifs orands took her father's arm and led him along. Uncle Gilbert thought hehad never seen her in such a bold frame of mind. 

Certainly, Chester, Elder Malby, and the housekeeper must have plottedto bring about that little supper party. The dining room was severelybare, but scrupulously clean. That evening the threadbare table clothhad been replaced by a new one. The usual menu of bread, milk, and jamwas augmented by slices of cold meat, a dish of fruit, and a cake. Twosmall bouquets adorned the ends of the long table. 

"Visitors, " whispered one of the elders to another. 

"Extraordinary visitors, " replied the other. "Just like home when UncleJohn came to see us. "

The housekeeper even furnished tea for the Rev. Mr. Strong and hisbrother. Lucy said she liked milk better, so she filled her glass alongwith Chester's and the other "Mormons. " She chatted freely with theyoung elder near her, learned that he was from Idaho, that he had beenaway six months, that he had not been home-sick, and that he was notmarried. The elders were to hold street meetings that evening aftersupper. 

"I should like to go with you, " she said; but Chester, overhearing theconversation, told her that for various reasons, such a course would notbe wise. 

Afterwards, there was some singing in the office-parlor, then Chesterwent with the party to their hotel. 

"I believe papa is being favorably impressed, " said Lucy to Chesterbefore they parted. "I wish he could see as I do. "

"That would indeed be something to be thankful for, " agreed Chester. 

The following afternoon the continental party took the train to Harwich, then boat for the Hook of Holland, where they arrived next morning. Ashort ride by rail brought them to Rotterdam. 

Uncle Gilbert had seen the city before, but the quaint town interestedthe others for the first time. "Everything is clean in Holland but thecanals, " some one has said. In Rotterdam, the ancient windmills, withhuge spreading arms, stand in the midst of modern shops, and thecontrast is strange. 

Uncle Gilbert directed the party to the Delftshaven church, explainingthat in this ancient building the Pilgrim Fathers worshiped before theyset sail for the New World. Then the sight-seers took train for TheHague, ten miles away. They visited the House of the Woods, where thePeace Congresses are held, observed Queen Wilhelmina's residence fromwithout, looked at some of the famous paintings in the art gallery, thenshuddered over the instruments of torture on exhibition in the "TortureChamber" found in the old prison. There were some gruesome articleshere. 

"All in the name of religion, " remarked the minister, shaking his head. "It seems to me that in those days men taxed their ingenuity to find newand more terrible means of inflicting pain. And men suffered in thosedays because of religious belief. "

Someone had expressed himself on the subject in these lines, which theyread from a card:

 "By my soul's hope of rest, I'd rather have been born, ere man was blessed With the pure dawn of revelation's light; Yea; rather plunge me back into pagan night And take my chances with Socrates for bliss, Than be a Christian of a faith like this. "

Out from the depressing gloom of the prison, they took the electric carto Scheveningen, the famous sea-side resort. The season was hardly begunyet, so there were but few visitors. However, the sands dotted withtheir peculiar wicker shelters and the beautiful blue North Sea werethere. Out on the water could be seen the little "pinken"--the fishingboats, their sails red and taut or white and wing-like, speeding beforethe wind. The waves swept in long straight lines, and broke on the sandsin muffled sound. The scene was restful, so the party was served withsomething to eat and drink on a table within sound and sight of the opensea. 

That evening, back in Rotterdam, Chester and Lucy, while the twobrothers took their ease "at home, " found the Mission headquarters, introduced themselves to the elders, and spent a few hours verypleasantly with them. They learned from the missionaries that the Dutchwere for the most part, an honest, God-fearing people, quite susceptibleto the gospel. There were no meetings that evening, but in lieuthereof, the presiding elder took them out and introduced them to someof the Saints. Then, when they came back to the office, the housekeeperserved them with cool milk, white bread, sweet butter, and whitercheese. 

The next day the tourists went on to Brussels, stopping a few hours onlyat Antwerp, which city was a surprise. As Chester said, "I rememberseeing such a place on the map, but I had no idea it was such a fine, large city. 

They saw many wide streets lined with the most unique houses, many ofthem having "terraced gables" facing the street. 

"This is certainly the town for fancy 'gingerbread' decorations, "commented Chester, as they observed the net-work of cornices and forestof pinnacles. There was even a full-sized mounted charger on the topmostpoint of a seven-story building. The Cathedral, with its tall sculpturedtower, was no doubt an architectural marvel. A brief visit was made tothe art gallery, "full of Ruben's fat women, " as Uncle Gilbert expressedit. 

"'Anvers, '" read the minister from a post-card. "I thought this wasAntwerp?"

"Antwerp is the English of it, " explained Uncle Gilbert. 

"Well, I think names--names of cities and countries, at least, should bethe same in all languages. At any rate, they could be spelled alike. Ifthis town is Anvers, why not call it that?"

Sunday evening brought the party to Brussels, or Bruxelles, in theoriginal. The life and gaity of the city were in full swing, and most ofthe shops were doing their usual business. Uncle Gilbert did not want toremain long, but Lucy said she wished to visit the battle-field ofWaterloo, and one or two points of interest in the city. So the eveningand the next day were consumed. The battle-field is reached by trainfrom the city. From the Waterloo station, there is a mile or two ofwalking or riding in carriages to the immediate field of battle. A greatpyramid of earth covered with grass to its summit marks the spot wherethe conflict raged the fiercest. From the top of this monument a fineview is had. What was once a bloody battle-field was that day deckedwith growing fields, dotted with feeding kine. Lucy had again to bedenied the pleasure of the view from the top. She sat in the wagon belowand got what she could from the man who had been left with the horses. It was all very interesting, but Lucy was so tired when they got back tothe hotel that she could not see more of Brussels. 

Next morning they went on to Paris. All but Chester had been in this gaycity before. The weather was getting quite warm, so the two brothers didnot care to follow the strenuous pace set by Chester in his sightseeing. During the heat of the day they kept quietly within their roomsor strolled leisurely along the shaded boulevards. Chester, by promisingto take the utmost care of Lucy, was permitted to take her with him tovisit some of the sights. She knew enough French to make herself fairlywell understood, and that was a great help. 

So these two rode and rambled about Paris for nearly a week, sometimeswith the father, sometimes with Uncle Gilbert, but more often bythemselves. The days were fine. The parks and boulevards were gay withpeople. They made purchases in the shops along Rue de Rivoli and at theBon Marche, the great department store which Lucy declared they couldequal in Kansas City. They gazed for hours in the Louvre Art Gallery, coming back time and again to look once more at some picture. The Venusde Milo had a fascination about it which drew them into the longgallery, where at the extreme end, the classic marble figure standsalone. 

They rode on the Seine, wondering at its clear waters. They walked aboutthe open squares and gardens all of them of historic significance. Theypromenaded, very quietly, it is true, along the Champs Elysees. Theylingered about the Petit Palais, one of the most beautiful of Parisbuildings because of its newness, its clean, chaste finish, and theartistic combination of marble, pictures, and flowers. Was it any wonderthat amid all this interesting beauty Chester's and Lucy's eyes andhands frequently met to express what words failed to do?

The four sight-seers were at Napoleon's Tomb, admiring the wonderfullight effect. 

"Every time I visit this place, " said Uncle Gilbert, "I like to read asummary of Napoleon's career which I found and clipped. Would you liketo hear it?"

The others said they would, so Uncle Gilbert read:

"Egyptian sands and Russian snows alike invaded; a revolution quelled, an empire created; his own brethren seated on thrones of vassalkingdoms; a complete code of jurisprudence formed for France from thewrecks of mediæval misrule; the most profound strategist of the ages;denounced by nations as the 'disturber of the peace of the world;'violating the marriage law of God and man; himself a dwarf in height, and lowering the physical stature of a generation of his countrymenthrough the frightful carnage of wars undertaken largely for hispersonal aggrandizement; succumbing in the moment of final victory toinsidious disease; twice expatriated, dying in exile across the seas, after twenty years; in life, the idol of a race and the detestation ofthe rest of the continent; and now, a handful of dust, his spirit in thepresence of its Maker. '"

This reading furnished a text for the minister, who talked rather morefreely than he had recently done. Notre Dame lay in their route thatafternoon, so naturally enough, they went in, Uncle Gilbert remarkingthat this was a fit place for the minister to conclude his sermon. 

"What a dark, musty place, " said Lucy. 

"It fits in very well with their religion, " suggested Chester. "A lot ofoutward show, but within, dark and dead. "

Uncle Gilbert, though living in Ireland, was not a Catholic, so he tookno offense at this remark. 

Then while they were "doing" churches, they visited that of St. Sulpice, a very large edifice, in the floor of which is a brass line which marksthe Meridian of Paris. At the left of the entrance sits St. Peter inlife-sized bronze, in possession of the Keys. The naked big toe of thisfigure is easily reached by the worshipers. 

"I have heard of people kissing images of the Saints, " said Chester, "but I have never seen anything of the kind. Let us rest here a while, to see if anything happens. "

Lucy was glad of the suggestion as she was more tired than she wished toacknowledge. The big church was cool and quiet. Worshipers singly and intwos were coming and going. Presently, a woman, and presumably herdaughter, came in, and as they passed St. Peter they leaned forward andkissed the shining, metal toe. They passed on to a confessional wherethe priest could be seen and faintly heard behind the latticed window. 

All this was exceedingly interesting to the young people. The twobrothers were absorbed more in the building itself than what was goingon within; even to what their two young people were doing. Chester, surely was prompted by a spirit of sacriledge when he took from an innerpocket a picture post-card he had bought in Ireland. 

"The kissing of the toe reminded me of it, " said he, as he handed thecard to Lucy, who looked at the picture of an Irishman in the act ofkissing his sweetheart, Blarney Castle being shown in the distance. Underneath was the following:

 "With quare sinsashuns and palpitashuns, A kiss I'll venture here, Mavrone; 'Tis swater Blarney, good Father Mahoney, Kissin' the girls than that dirty stone. "

Lucy's father tapped her on the shoulder. "You're in a church. Behaveyourself, " he said. "Come, let's be going. "

CHAPTER XII. 

It was evident that, notwithstanding the good intentions which allpersons concerned had of not overreaching in the sight-seeing business, Lucy, at least, was feeling its effects. That she would have to remainquiet for some days was the verdict of the physician which her fathercalled. There was no immediate danger, said he to Chester, but the heartaction was feeble. A week of absolute rest would remedy that. 

Chester was packed off to Switzerland alone, contrary to the program hehad looked forward to. Uncle Gilbert did not care to go. Mr. Strongwould have to remain with Lucy, so if Chester was to see Switzerland, hewould have to try it alone. When Chester heard of the arrangement, hedemurred; but when Lucy's father suggested to him that perhaps it wouldbe best for her, he said no more. 

After Chester's departure, the three settled down to the business athand, that of resting. That was easy enough for Lucy and her father, butUncle Gilbert was hale and hearty, so he continued to make short dailyexcursions to points of interest. They had pleasant quarters, not toonear the noise of the city. The semi-private hotel had but few guests, so the back garden in which dinner was usually served, proved adesirable lounging-place. 

Uncle Gilbert was away that afternoon. Lucy was resting in her room. TheRev. Mr. Strong paced nervously back and forth in the garden for a time, then dropped heavily into an easy chair. The French maid, steppingquietly about placed a pillow under his head, which kindness he acceptedgratefully. The garden was still. There were no sharp near-noises, thecity's activity coming merely as a faint distant hum. 

The minister closed his eyes, but he did not go to sleep. His mind wastoo active for that, his nerves were tingling again. The bright, gaylife about him did not exist for him. That afternoon he lived in thepast. He marshalled for review contending thoughts, that had for manyyears fought for supremacy. Out of the chaos of conflict no order hadyet come. He was getting old before his years justified it. 

Why should he, a minister of the word of God, be so easily moved bystrange religious ideas? Faintly as if from some distant, mostlyforgotten past, there came to him this idea, that the truth, the whole, clean, simple truth as it exists in Christ Jesus had been told him, andhe had rejected it. Why he had done this was not clear to him. He seemedto have lived in periods of alternating darkness and light. Then later, he had come in contact with so-called "Mormonism. " Strange to say, itsteachings had the same ring as that which he had heard before; but thistime he rejected it because of its evil name. Once again, a littlelater, these same doctrines had come to him, but they were not welcomedwhen he learned that those who taught them and lived them were simple, ofttimes uneducated people, usually called the "scum" of the earth. 

The Rev. Mr. Strong had actually given up his pastorship in two places, moving westward until he reached Kansas City. --Here for a number ofyears, he had experienced peace, a sort of indifferent peace, headmitted, due more to callousness of soul than to anything else. Thencame Lucy's adventure with the "Mormon" elders on the streets, and hervisit to "Mormon" meetings. She had brought "Mormon" literature home, and he had read it, read it all. He had asked her to bring more. He hadoften sat up till midnight to finish a book, then had railed at Lucy forbringing it into the house. And now the conflict was on again, harderthan ever. He closed his eyes, saying, "No, no;" then opened them againto the beautiful light. He stopped his ears, crying, "I will not hear;"then listened to the sweet music. With all the force of his life'straining, he railed against the doctrine; then in silence contemplatedits glorious truths. He drove the thought of it out of his mind; thenwelcomed it eagerly back. Back and forth, in and out, in doubt and fear, in faith and hope his soul had suffered and wrought. 

What was the outcome to be? Evidently, the end was not yet; for had henot purposely taken this trip abroad, to get away from some of thesethings, and had he not run hard against that which he had hoped toescape. And in what form had it now come? In that of his son, his onlyson, the child of his younger days! Surely God was in this thing. "Yes, "the man muttered, "God is watching me. I cannot escape. His hand is overme. '_If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermostparts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right handshall hold me!_'"

Uncle Gilbert came in, humming lightly a tune he had caught from theband in the cafe. He stopped when he saw his brother apparently asleep. He was about to retreat when his brother, opening his eyes, called:

"Don't go; come here. I want to talk with you. I want your opinion on amatter. "

Uncle Gilbert seated himself to listen. 

"You might think it a strange thing for me to ask you about doctrines ofreligion, " began the brother, "but sometimes a layman has a clearer, more unbiased view than one who has studied one system, and--and hasmade his living from preaching it. "

"I fear, brother, you are worrying too much about such things"--

"Not at all--not too much. It's necessary to worry sometimes. I supposethat's God's way of arousing people. I am worrying--have been worryingfor many years--just now I want someone to talk to--I want you tolisten. "

"I'll do that, if that will help you, " said the brother as he placed hishat and stick on a table and shifted himself into a comfortableposition. The maid peeped in, but seeing the two men, retired again. 

"I have preached hundreds of sermons on the being and nature of God, "said the minister, now sitting erect and looking at his brother. "I havespoken of Him as a Father, our Father, and all the time He has been outin time and space, formless, homeless, unthinkable. He has neverappealed to heart or brain. Will God ever be more to me than a force inand through all nature? Shall we ever see His face? Shall we ever feelthe cares of His hand and hear His voice, not in a figurative sense, butin reality. "

"Now brother"--said Uncle Gilbert again. 

"Don't interrupt. You do not need to answer my questions--you couldn'tif you wanted to. Listen. What do you think of this: God is our Father, in reality as we naturally understand it--Father of our spirits. We are, therefore, His children. That is our relationship. Consequently we areof a family of Gods. Admit that our Father is God, and that we are Hischildren, the conclusion is absolute. We are not worms of the dust, onlyso far as we degrade our divine nature to that lowness. 

"This Father of ours has in the past eternities trod through time andspace, learning, --yes, suffering, overcoming, conquering, becomingperfect, until now He sits in the midst of glory, power, and eternallives. In might and majesty perfect, He can and does hold us all as inthe hollow of His hand. This little earth of ours, and all the shiningworlds on high are His workmanship. He holds them also by His allwisepower. And yet, my brother, come back to this simple proposition, we arethat great Being's sons and daughters, and if we walk in the way inwhich He walked, we are heirs to all that He has! I am one of a greatfamily, so are you, --all of us. Our Father has but gone before and wefollow. The difference between us is only in degree of development andnot in kind. 

"'O God, I think thy thoughts after Thee, ' said Kepler, and thoughtslead to deeds. 

"Again, the Son, whom we know as Jesus Christ, came to reveal to us thisFather. He was in 'the form of God. ' He was the 'image of the invisibleGod. ' Further, this Son was in the express image of the Father's person. Jesus Christ was a man like unto us as far as outward form is concerned. He is one of this great family, the first-born and foremost of thechildren, it is true, yet one of us--He acknowledged us as His brethren. Now, then listen: Jesus follows His Father. 'The Son can do nothing ofHimself, but what He seeth the Father do: for what things soever Hedoeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. ' Also, this Son said: 'MyFather worketh hitherto, and I work. ' Now, if we follow in the steps ofthe Son, as He has commanded us to do, and that Son follows in the stepsof His Father, where is our final destination?"

The brother listened in wonder. The doctrine was, indeed, strange, butit was too clear and logical to be the result of a weak mind. Theminister saw the perplexity in his listener's face and said:

"No, brother, I am not crazy. My mind has never been clearer. I feelfine now. I tell you, there is manna for a hungry soul in these things. 

"And now again: This life is a school. From the puny, helpless infant toold age, life is a development of the attributes with which we come intothe world. We get all our education through our senses. No faculty ofmind or body is useless. The perfect man has these all perfectlydeveloped. We have at least one example of a perfect man, theresurrected Son of God. What was He like? When He appeared to Hisdisciples He said, 'Handle me and see; for a spirit hath not flesh andbones, as ye see me have. ' He also ate with His brethren. Here, then, wehave, one of us, carrying with Him into the celestial world His body offlesh and bone. And, mind you, He is the pattern. If we follow Him, wealso shall take with us these bodies, changed, purged, and glorified ofcourse, but yet bodies in every sense. Will not the eye then seeperfectly, the ear hear every sound in the celestial key? Not only everyattribute of the mind, but every organ of the body will be prefect inits operation. Think what that will mean!"

The speaker paused as if to let his listener arrive at the inevitableconclusion in his own mind. 

"What will it mean?" he asked again. 

"I don't know, " replied Uncle Gilbert. 

"It will mean fatherhood--eternal, celestialized fatherhood. We shallbe like Him our Father, not only to beget, but to _father_ a race! Thinkof that! Did you ever think of that? No, of course not--and I--musn't--Iwho--have never yet made a beginning--how can I expect"--

The head fell back on the pillow as Uncle Gilbert quickly came to hisbrother's side. The minister's face was pale, his eyes were closed for amoment. Then he opened them, sat upright, ran his hand over his face, and smiled at his brother. 

"Don't be alarmed, " he said, "it was nothing. I'm all right. "

He walked about while the maid came in and set the table for dinner. Theminister linked his arm into his brother's. "Say, brother, " he asked, "would you not be lonesome up in heaven without Aunt Sarah?"

Uncle Gilbert was seriously alarmed. He had in mind to call Lucy, when, providentially she came to them. 

"I think your father's not well, Lucy?" said Uncle Gilbert, as she tookher father's other arm. 

"What's the matter, papa?" she asked. 

"I am well, " protested the father--"as well as I ever was. I've justbeen telling brother here some things--some gospel truths in fact, and Iguess they're beyond you yet, " he said to his brother. 

"Well, " replied Uncle Gilbert, "I'll admit I've never heard you talklike that before. "

"Why, I've preached these things scores of times from the pulpit, and mycongregations have thought them fine. I didn't tell, however, where myinspiration came from. "

"Where did it come from?" asked Lucy. 

"From your books, my dear. "

"My books?"

"Yes; from your books on 'Mormonism'. "

Had not dinner just then been announced, it is hard to say what wouldhave become of Uncle Gilbert's astonishment. Across the table he sawLucy's reassuring smile from which he himself took courage that all waswell. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

_My Dear Lucy_:--I am writing this in my room high up on the hillside ofLucerne, (Luzern) pronounced as if there were a "t" before the "z. " Theday is closing. The light is yet bright on the mountains, but the lakelies in shadows. The lamps are being lighted down below in the town andalong the promenade. I hear faintly the arrival of the steamer at thepier. 

But let me begin at the beginning, and tell you what I have seen anddone up to the present. This telling is a poor substitute for thereality, I assure you; but as you have never been in Switzerland, youmight be interested in the sights here--through my eyes! Let me say now, before I forget, that at every point of beauty and interest, I said inmy heart, "O that Lucy could be here to enjoy this!" It really seemedselfish in me to be alone. And then, you know, the pleasure of sightseeing is materially enhanced when one has a sympathetic companion towhom one may exclaim: "Isn't that grand!"

We entered Switzerland at Basel, then journeyed on to Zurich. This isSwitzerland's largest city, and in my opinion, it is one of the mostbeautiful large cities I have ever seen. Of course, I hunted up theChurch headquarters, where I was fortunate to meet a friend I had knownin Salt Lake. He kindly gave me the information I desired about thecity and even took a few hours off duty to accompany me to points ofinterest. 

That evening we went to the Opera house, where Faust was being played. Ihad a great desire to see Faust in the original, and though my German isnot up to Goethe's standard, I could follow the plot somewhat, and I waseagerly watching for Margaret to make her appearance on the stage. Aftera long evening, the curtain went down, and all the people got up andleft--yet no Margaret had appeared. I was puzzled; but my friendexplained that the play was only half over. If I desired to see therest, I would have to come back the following evening. What do you thinkof that? Well, I didn't go back--I went to Lucerne, next morning. 

I wanted to see the Alps, of course, and we got a distant view only ofthem from Zurich. Here, at Lucerne, we have them in all their grandbeauty. 

I don't mind admitting to you that my purse would not allow my stoppinglonger at the Schweizerhof, than to merely take a good look at theexterior. I had with me the Lucerne elders' address, and easily foundthem. They directed me to a friend who had cheap rooms, and it is here Iam writing to you. The view is just as fine from my window as from thebig hotel--nay, finer, for I am higher up; and after all, Lucy, the fivefrancs' out-look on a beautiful world is enjoyed quite as much as if itcost fifteen. I can see the cap or the collar of Mt. Pilatus betterperhaps than the fat, cross, silk-clad lady I saw on the boatyesterday, can see them. (By "cap" is meant a cloud resting on top, by"collar" the cloud encircling Pilatus' head. )

This brings me to my trip on Lake Lucerne day before yesterday. Westarted early. The tourist season has hardly begun yet, so we were notcrowded. There was rain threatening. The mountain tops were hidden byclouds, and the prospect was not assuring. However, by the time welanded at Brunnen, the clouds had lifted, the sun came out, and the daybecame pleasantly warm. From Brunnen, it was our plan to walk along theAxenstrasse, to Fluelen, a distance of five or six miles. There werethree of us, with an elder for guide. I wish you could have spent thatafternoon with us--with me, strolling along that wonderful road, cut outof the mountain side bordering the lake. The post cards I am enclosingwill give you an idea of the scenery, and I assure you the blueness ofthe lake is not overdone in the picture. 

The road leads along gently sloping hill-sides, covered with farms, thenit pierces the sheer rock, then again borders the cliff, fifty or onehundred feet from the lake below. The trees are in full leaf and someare in bloom. The grass is high where we walked, but up towards the topsof the mountains, the snow still lies. One of the strange sights is tosee large, splendid hotels perched in some cranny away up near thesummit of the peaks. Cog railways now take the tourists up some of themountains. 

The region around Lake Lucerne is historic, I am told. Here began theSwiss struggle for liberty which we read about. The scene of WilliamTell's exploits are laid here, and we are shown on the shore of thelake, Tell's Capelle, said to mark the spot where the apple-shootingpatriot leaped ashore and escaped from the tyrant Gessler. I do notwonder at men, born and reared amid these mountains not submitting tothe yoke of oppression. 

In reading up on Lucerne, I came upon this, taken from "Romance andTeutonic Switzerland. "

"The Swiss nation was born on the banks of Lake Luzern, and craddledupon its waters. First, the chattering waves told the news to theoverhanging beaches; and they whispered it to the forests, to the lonelycedars on the uplands. The blank precipices smiled, the Alpine rosesblushed their brightest, the summer pastures glowed, the glaciers andavalanches roared approval; and, finally, the topmost peaks promised tolend their white mantles for the baptism. " That's rather nicely put, don't you think?

About half way along Axenstrasse, we discovered that we were hungry, sowe proposed to try one of the farm houses for something to eat. Ourguide, tried one that looked typical of what we wanted, and the rest ofus waited by the road, for fully thirty minutes. 

At last the elder returned, explaining that he had had no easy task. Hehad to plead with every member of the household, from grandmother todaughter, to get them to take us in; but at last he was successful. Wewent into a most interesting room. The finish and furnishings were oldand quaint, the woodwork bare of paint and scoured clean and smooth byyears of scrubbing. In time we were served with bread (they were out ofbutter, they said) preserved cherries, walnuts, and hot milk. (Our guidesaid it was safer to have the milk boiled. ) We enjoyed the meal amid theunique surroundings. The good people were profuse with thanks when wepaid them in good-sized silver. I believe the elder left a gospel tractwith them, so who can tell what will be the outcome of our visit?

From Fluelen we took steamer back to Lucerne. 

Well, it's getting late. I'd better go to bed. I fear I shall tire youby my guide-book descriptions. But this for a good-night's thought: HereI am away from you, away from my world, as it were. I can look back onmy short life, and I can see the hand of an allwise and merciful Father, shaping events, ever for my good. Was it chance that we two should havetaken the same steamer and be thrown together as we were. Not at all. There is a power behind the universe--call it what we may--whichdirects. This power will not permit any honest, truth-seeking soul to beovercome and be destroyed. I thank the Lord for His blessings to me. Outof seeming darkness and despair He has led me to light and happiness. And may I say it, we two, because of our cleaving to the light as it hasbeen made known to us, have been brought together. Is it not true? Iwish and pray also that your father may soften his heart towards thetruth. I sometimes fear that his heart does already accept the gospel, but that his will says no. There now, good night. 

 * * * * *

Good morning. I had a fine sleep. I dreamed that you were with me, andwe were looking at the Lion of Lucerne. The dying lion roared, and youclasped me so tightly in your fright, that I awoke, --all of whichreminds me that I have not told you much about this city or its sights. 

The Lion, I suppose is Lucerne's most distinctive curiosity. As you willsee by the card, it is a large figure of a lion carved out of the solidrock in the hillside. Thorwaldsen furnished the model. It was made tocommemorate the bravery of the Swiss guards who fought in the service ofLouis XVI at the outbreak of the French Revolution. 

Switzerland is sometimes called the playground of Europe. Down on thepromenades by the lakes, one may see people from "every nation underheaven" nearly. By the way, who do you think I met, day beforeyesterday? Why, our would-be gallant ship-board friend. Strange to say, he was sober, and more strange, he appeared pleased to see me. He wantedto take me to all kinds of places, and treat me to all kinds of goodthings; but further, strange(?) to relate, I shook him for the companyof a few native saints, for there was a meeting that evening which Iattended. I had to speak too, in English, of course, with one of themissionaries interpreting. It was an odd experience. 

The postman has just been here with your note. I was very sorry the newsfrom you was not better. I am blaming myself for tiring you out too muchwith my sight seeing. Send me at least a card everyday to this address, _please_. I have thought to go through the country to Bern, but Isuppose all the lakes and mountains of Switzerland look much alike. I amquite satisfied with Lucerne. I was very much interested in what yourfather said about "Mormonism. " If our prayers are of any avail, we'll"get him" yet. 

Before I close this long letter, and I must do so now--I want to tellyou of an incident that occurred yesterday. I was taking a stroll upabove the town, by myself, for I will admit I was in a "mood. " There area lot of monks in Lucerne. You can see them on the street, fat, rolly-poly looking men, bare, oddly-cropped heads, and outwardly clad inwhat looks like a dressing gown. Well, I was curious to see the conventwhere the monks live a life of ease, I suppose to get used to theeternal "rest" which they expect when they get to heaven, of which Ihave my "doubts. " However, I did not find the convent, nor did I see anymonks, but as I was walking along an unfrequently traveled road, I met alittle boy and girl, walking towards me, hand in hand. They were crying. When they saw me, they wiped their eyes and stopped. I saw they werepoorly clad, and, somewhat dirty. I became interested in them, but theywere so shy that it was with difficulty I got them to remain. Theylooked at the coppers I held out, but they did not move until I placeda silver piece beside them. Their eyes rounded out, then, and the littlegirl became brave enough to come and take them. Well, I tried my Germanon them, but they were, evidently, too Swiss to understand me--I was atthe time making a whistle from a small willow which I had cut from thewayside. I seated myself on the bank and went on making my whistle. Thechildren watched me pound the bark, then twist off the loosened peeling, and finish the whistle. When I blew it, they laughed. I handed it to theboy, who timidly put it to his lips. They sat down by me, and I made awhistle for the girl, then a third, bigger one, which I stuck into theboy's pocket, telling him to take it home. You ought to have seen thechanged expression on those two dirty faces when they left me, blowinghappily on their willow whistles. 

I was lonesome no longer. What a little thing will bring joy into adreary life!

Love to all with heaping measures for you, from

Yours as ever, CHESTER. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A week of comparative quiet brought little change for the better toLucy, so it was decided that they would by easy stages, get back toLondon, thence to Cork and Kildare Villa. Lucy kept Chester informed oftheir doings, saying as little as possible about her health. As she didnot wish to deprive him of the full enjoyment of his visit toSwitzerland, she did not send him word of their intentions, until theywere ready to leave. They would go by way of Calais and Dover, theshort-water route, she wrote him. 

When Chester received this information he hastily cut short his sightseeing, and started for London by way of Rotterdam. The long ride alonewas somewhat tiresome, and he was glad to meet again some of the eldersin the land of canals and windmills. 

Just before the train rolled into Rotterdam, Chester thought of GlenCurtis. It came to him as a distinct shock when he realized that he hadentirely forgotten to enquire about Glen on his former visit. "Well, "said he to himself, "so easily do our interests change from one personto another. " But now he must find his old friend. He could freely talkto him now even about Julia Elston. 

Chester learned from the elder in charge at the office, that ElderCurtis was released to return home in a few days. He would be inRotterdam shortly. When? In a few days. But Chester could not wait thatlong, so he took train to the city where Glen was laboring, and foundhim making his farewell rounds. 

"Well of all things, " exclaimed the elder, as Chester took him firmly bythe hand. 

"I'm the last person on earth you expected to see here in Dutchland, Isuppose?"

"You certainly are. And what are you doing here?"

Chester told him as they walked arm in arm along the quiet streets ofthe town. 

"And now you're going home. We'll go together, " exclaimed Glen. 

"I wish we could, " said Chester, "but I fear that my party is not ready, and Lucy is not well enough to make the trip, I fear. "

"Lucy?"

Chester smiled goodnaturedly, then told him freely of Lucy. "And whenyou get home, you can tell Julia all about me and mine. It will pleaseher, I am sure. By the way, how is it between Julia and you? I haven'theard lately. "

"All right, " said Glen. 

"You're a lucky boy, " declared Chester, "to get such a girl. There'sjust _one_ other I would rather have. "

"I'm glad you think so. "

"Of course you are--for--oh, for everybody's sake. "

Chester had to return to Rotterdam the same day, so he claimed. Glencould not keep him longer, and reluctantly waved him off at the station. 

The boat was slow from the Hook, at least it seemed so to Chester, andthere was a high sea which nearly upset him. He got to London too latein the evening to call on the Strong's, but next morning he was outearly. 

Lucy met him in the hall with a cry of delight. 

"You've come, " she whispered as he pressed her close. "Oh, I thought younever would. "

"My dear, why did you not say? Why did you let me leave you at all?"

"I didn't want you to miss anything on my account--but never mind thatnow--come in. Papa and uncle will be glad to see you. Do you know, " sheadded with evident pleasure, "papa has been _nearly_ as anxious aboutyou as I have, --has continually asked me about you, --and I had to lethim read your lovely long letter. "

"You did? Well, it's all right. There's no harm done, I'm sure. He mightas well know everything. "

"Oh, he knows a lot already. "

They went into the house, and found seats until the others shouldappear. 

"Your face shows signs of suffering, Lucy; but otherwise you look quitewell. "

"That's just it with my trouble. I usually deceive my looks; but I feelbetter already; and now, let me tell you something else: Father hasnearly consented to my being baptized!"

"Lucy!"

"It's true. I've been pleading with him--and preaching to him too; andthe other day he said he would think about it. That's a concession, forhe has always said _he would not_ think of such a thing. "

"I'm so glad so very, very glad, Lucy. "

"And Chester, I believe it's you who have made the change in him. He'sbeen so different since you have been with us. He hasn't been so angrywith me when I talked of 'Mormonism. ' He has let me read my bookswithout any remonstrance. And do you know, even Uncle Gilbert isaffected. He and papa must have had some profound discussions about usand our religion for he has asked me to lend him some books. He'll nodoubt want to know from your all about Utah and the people out there. "

"And I shall be pleased to tell him, " said Chester. 

The father stood as if hesitating, in the doorway. 

"Come in, papa, " said Lucy. "Chester's come. "

"Yes; I see he has, " replied the father as he came to greet the youngman, and shake his hand warmly. 

"I'm glad, with Lucy to see you with us again. "

"And I am glad to be with you, " said Chester honestly. 

The morning was spent together. The beginnings of a London fog kept themin doors, which was no hardship, as the three seemed to have so much totalk about. After lunch, the fog changed its intentions, lifted, disappeared and let the sun have full sway. To be sure, some smoke stilllingered, but out where the Strongs were staying it only mellowed thedistances. 

That afternoon it occured to Chester that the relationship now existingbetween him and Lucy called for a further understanding with the father. He knew, of course, that the father's attitude toward him had changed;Lucy's words and the father's actions justified him in the thought. 

Chester managed to accompany the father in his stroll in the park thatafternoon, and without delay, he broached the subject so near his heart. The minister listened quietly to the young man plead his case, notinterrupting until he had finished. They seated themselves on a bench bythe grass. The father looked down at the figures he was drawing with hiscane on the ground and mused for a moment. Then he said:

"Yes; I have given my consent, by my actions, at least. I have noobjection to you. I like you very much. Lucy does too, and fathers can'tvery well stop such things. But there still remains the fact that Lucyis not well. There is no telling how long she can live, and yet I haveheard of cases like hers where marriage has been a great benefit. "

"I thank you for your kind words, " said Chester. "Let me assure you Ishall be controlled by your judgement as to marriage. We are neither ofus ready for that. Of course, I sincerely hope she will get stronger. Ithink she will; but meantime you have no objection to my loving her, anddoing all for her that my love can do?"

"Certainly not, my boy, certainly not. " The father placed his hand onthe young man's shoulder as he said it. Chester noted the faint tremorin voice and hand, and his heart went out to him. 

"You are a comfort and a strength to Lucy--and to me, " continued Mr. Strong. "We miss you very much when you are away. Can't you stay with usright along. Perhaps that's not fair to ask--your home and friends--"

"I have no home, my dear sir; and my friends, are few. I told you, did Inot, my history?"

"Yes, you told me, I remember. "

"And remembering, you think no less of me. "

"Not a bit--rather more. "

"Let me serve you then, you and Lucy. If you need me, I equally needyou. Let me give what little there is in me to somebody that wants me. My life, so far, has been full of change and somewhat purposeless. Ihave drifted about the world. Let me now anchor with you. I feel asthough I ought to do that--"

The man clung closer to Chester, who, feeling a thrill of dearcompanionship, continued:

"Let me be a son to you always, and a sister to Lucy, until it can besomething more. "

"Yes, yes, my boy!"

Others were out basking in the warm sun that afternoon. Those thatwalked leisurely and took notice of events about them, were impressed bythe affectionate behavior of the two men. Lucy Strong was herself out. She was curious to know what had become of Chester and her father, besides, the sun was inviting. She soon found them, herselfundiscovered. She paused, examined the flower beds, and becameinterested in the swans in the lake. Her face beamed with happiness whenshe saw them, for their shoulders were close together and Chester hadher father's hands clasped firmly in his own. She tiptoed up behind themon the grass, then slipped her hands over each of their eyes. 

"Guess, " she laughed. 

"A fairy princess, " said Chester. 

"Mother Goose, " responded the father. 

They moved apart and let her sit between them. 

"The rose between, " suggested Chester. 

"The tie that binds, " corrected the girl, placing an arm about each ofthem. 

Then they all laughed so merrily, that the infection reached a raggedurchin playing on the gravel-path near by. 

"My dear, " said the father. "Chester has promised to stay with us, andbe--"

"Your man--about--the--house, " finished Chester. 

"Which we certainly need, " agreed Lucy. "Two people, Strong by name, butmighty weak by nature, as my old nurse used to say, require some such aman. I'm glad father picked you. "

"He chose us, rather, Lucy, " said the father. 

"Well, either way. "

"Both, " affirmed Chester, at which they all laughed again. 

A carriage with liveried coachman and footman, and containing two ladiesdrove by. The little boy had to leave his gravel castle while the wheelsof the carriage crushed it to the level. The boy looked at the ruins amoment, then at the departing vehicle. Then he started his building anewsafely away from wheel tracks. 

"A young philosopher, " remarked the minister, observing the occurrence. 

"Papa, " said Lucy, after a pause of consideration, "you have made me sohappy to-day. You can make my joy complete by granting me one otherthing. "

"What's that?" asked he unthinkingly. 

"Let me be baptized, " she replied softly. 

The father's body stiffened perceptibly, and his face sobered. 

"Believe me, papa, I _am_ sorry to have to annoy you so much on thematter; but I can't help it. Something within me urges me on. I can'tget away from the testimony which I have, any more than I can get awayfrom my shadow. "

"You can get away from your shadow, " said the minister. 

"Yes; by going into the dark, and that I do not want to do. I want tolive in the light, --the beautiful gospel light always. "

Chester listened in pleased wonder to Lucy's pleadings. He added nothingas she seemed able to say all that was necessary. In time the father'sface softened again, and he turned to Chester to ask:

"What do you think of such arguments?"

"They're splendid--and reasonable--and true, sir. "

"Of course, you would say so. Well, I'll think about it, Lucy. "

"But, papa, you've been thinking about it a lot, and time is going. Sayyes today, now--here with Chester and me--and the Lord alone. Besides, papa, now I ought to be one with Chester in _everything_. That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes; that's right. "

"So you consent?"

"I didn't say that. "

"You must. I'm of age anyway, and could do it without your consent; butI don't want to. I want your blessing instead of your disapproval onsuch an important step. "

"Could she stand the ordeal, do you think?" asked the father of Chester. 

"In a few days when she gets a little stronger--yes. "

"Well, let's walk a bit. You two go ahead. I must think. "

The two did as they were told nor looked back. The one was not thinkingclearly and logically, so much as he was fighting over the eternalwarfare of conviction against policy. He also knew. He had received moreof a testimony than he ever admitted, even to himself. If he should doas his innermost conscience told him, he also would join Lucy in baptismof water for the remission of sins; but that thought he pushed fromhim. He, an old man in the ministry, to now change his faith--to cuthimself off from his life's work--no, that would never do. It wasdifferent with Lucy, quite another thing. She had set her heart on itand on Chester, and it would be best for her--yes, it would be best forher. 

When Chester was saying good-night to Lucy that evening, the father cameout into the hall to them. 

"Chester, " said he, "tell Elder Malby I should like to see him tomorrow. He is the one that attends to baptism into the Mormon Church, isn't he?"

"Yes, " replied Chester. "I shall tell him. "

"Oh, papa, you dear, good papa!" exclaimed Lucy throwing her arms abouthim. 

"There, there now, behave--say good-night to Chester. "

But she clung to him and kissed him through her tears of joy. Then shewent to Chester. 

The father turned to go. 

"Wait a moment, papa, " said Lucy: "I want to go with you. "

With a parting kiss for Chester, and a murmured good night, she took herfather's arm and led him in. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Lucy gained in strength so rapidly that within a week it was thoughtsafe to let her be baptized. Her father, Uncle Gilbert, Chester, thehousekeeper at headquarters and one other sister were present at theBaths. Elder Malby performed the ordinance. Three others were alsobaptized at the same time. 

Uncle Gilbert was very curious as also a little nervous at what hecalled the "dipping. " He couldn't see why the ceremony required a wholeswimming pool when a few drops sprinkled on the forehead, had, as longas he had any recollection, been sufficient. The father witnessed theordinance unmoved. Lucy went through the ordeal bravely, and when shecame out from the dressing room where the sisters had helped her, hekissed her placidly on the forehead. 

The party took a cab to the mission headquarters, where a simple servicewas held of singing and prayer, Elder Malby making a few remarks on themeaning and purpose of the ordinance of baptism. The newly baptized werethen confirmed members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-daySaints. Then the housekeeper invited them all down to the dining room, and again there were a few simple special features in celebration of thehappy occasion. 

And it was a happy time in the one only way which comes from duty done. A sweet, quiet peace abode in every heart. Was not the Heavenly Fatherwell pleased with these as He had been when the Son had done likewise. And the Holy Ghost, the Comforter from heaven rested upon them softly asa dove, --that was the secret of their supreme joy. 

As Lucy had predicted, Uncle Gilbert's curiosity brought him to Chesterfor more information regarding Utah and the "Mormons. " The very next dayafter the baptism, Uncle Gilbert met Chester before he entered thehouse. They greeted each other pleasantly, and then Chester inquiredabout Lucy, and how she was feeling. 

"Lucy seems to be all right, " was the reply, "though her father isn't sowell this morning. He had a bad night but is sleeping now. That's why Imet you here, so that he might not be disturbed by the bell. "

"I'm sorry, " said Chester. "These attacks seem to be coming frequently. "

"My brother has not been well for years. For a long time he has had tofight hard with himself and his nerves. Sometimes they get the best ofhim for a time, and, of course, as he gets older, he has less strength. I wish we could get him to Kildare Villa. He would be himself again downthere. "

"We were to have gone in a day or two, were we not?"

"Yes; but he can't leave yet--Do you want to see Lucy?"

"Just for a few moments; she'll be busy with her father. "

Uncle Gilbert went in the house, considerately sending her out alone. She was radiantly beautiful to Chester that morning in her soft whitedress, fluffy hair, and glowing eyes; but he only looked his love forher, and said:

"Good morning, _Sister_ Strong. "

"Good morning, _Brother_ Lawrence, " she responded. 

"How are you feeling?"

"I am feeling fine. But poor papa--"

"Yes; Uncle Gilbert told me. "

"We'll have to remain here until he gets over the attack. Uncle isanxious to get home, and I must admit I'd rather be at Kildare Villathan here. "

Then Uncle Gilbert came out with hat and cane. He was going for a walkwith Chester, he said, for it would be wiser not to disturb the sleeper. He explained to Lucy that her father was getting a much needed rest, andthat she was to see to it that he was not disturbed. Chester would"keep" with his Uncle Gilbert for a few hours. 

The morning was fair, so the two men struck out for Hyde Park. Theywalked across the big stretches of grass, then rested on a seat by theSerpentine. As yet, not many people were about, and the London hum hadnot risen to its highest pitch. 

Uncle Gilbert wanted to know about Utah, and Chester entered into adetailed description of the state and her people. 

"I have, of course, heard of the Mormon people; but I will admit myideas are somewhat vague. My brother, as a preacher, must of course, have come in contact with all sorts of religious professions. He seemsto know considerable about Mormonism. Where did he learn that?"

Chester explained what part Lucy had played in this. 

"Well, he agrees very much with her belief, for I have heardconversations which lead me to that conclusion. Of course, all that istheir business, not mine particularly. Let's walk out in the middle ofthe park where we can make believe we are not in London, but out in thebeautiful green country which God has made. "

The grass being dry, they could sit down on it to rest. 

"As you are, I presume, to become a member of the family some day, " saidUncle Gilbert, "I am going to tell you something about my brother. It isnot a pleasant subject, but I have concluded that you can be told. It isa family secret, you must understand, and must be treated as such. It isonly because I believe your knowledge of the truth may help my brotherthat I am telling you this. 

Chester thanked him for his confidence. He would be glad to help in anyway he could. 

"Well, the story is this: My brother in his younger days before he wasmarried, had an unfortunate experience with a young woman. There was achild as the result. The woman, as nearly as I can make out, marriedwell enough, and later, joined the Mormons and went to Utah. She did nottake the child with her, for some reason unknown to me, at least; andso the boy--for it was a boy--became lost to his father, and as far as Iknow, to his mother also. I don't suppose all this worried my brother asa young man; but recently, within the past few years, I should say, hisconscience seems to have pricked him severely. He has some vigorousviews of fatherhood and the obligations flowing therefrom--and I can'tsay but he is right--and now he worries about his own great neglect. Hehas talked to me about it, so I know. Sometimes he worries himself sick, and then his nervous trouble gets the overhand. "

Chester lay on the grass looking up into the sky, complacently chewing aspear of grass, while Uncle Gilbert was talking. 

"What was the woman's name?" asked Chester. 

"I can't recall it just now. In fact, I don't think I ever heard it. Now, another thing that you must know, and you must not be annoyed atthis: at times, I believe he imagines you to be that boy of his. "

Chester sat up, and exactly at the moment when he looked into the faceof Uncle Gilbert a cog in the machinery of his own thoughts caught intoa cog of the wheel within wheels which the man at his side had beenrevealing. The cog caught, then slipped, then caught again. Wheels beganto revolve, bringing into motion and view other possible developments. 

"That's only when his illness makes him delerious, " continued UncleGilbert. "As I said, you must pay no attention to him under thoseconditions, but I thought you ought to know. "

"Yes; yes, " whispered the young man--"Thank you. " For him, Hyde Park andLondon had disappeared: all earthly things had become mist out of whichhe was trying to emerge. 

"You don't know the woman's name, " Chester asked again, with drylips--"Tell me her name. "

"I don't remember. I'm not sure, but I believe I have heard my brother, in his times of delerium speak of Anna. "

"Anna. Anna, " repeated Chester, as he stared into space. Uncle Gilbertlooked at the young man, and then repented of telling him. He was alittle annoyed at his manner. He arose, brushed the grass from hisclothes, and said:

"Well, let's be going. "

Chester went along mechanically. At the Marble Arch Uncle Gilbert wasabout to hail a bus, when Chester stopped him. 

"You'll excuse me, wont you for not returning with you--I--I--"

"But I gave my word to Lucy that I would bring you back. "

"Yes; I know, I'll come after a while--but not now--you goon, --I--I--there's your bus now; you had better take it. "

Uncle Gilbert, still a little annoyed, climbed on the bus and left hiscompanion looking vacantly at the line of moving busses. 

Chester went back into the park. There was room to breathe there andsome freedom from fellow beings. He left the beaten paths. Oh, that hecould get away from everybody for a time! Old Thunder out among theRocky Mountains would be an ideal place just now. 

The wheels of thought went surely and correctly. There was no slippingof cogs now. _The Rev. Thomas Strong was his father. _

Every link in the chain of evidence fitted. There was no break. He wentover the ground again and again. There came to him now facts andincidents which he had heard from his foster parents, and they allfitted in other facts and strengthened his conclusions. Now he alsoremembered and understood some of his mother's remarks about ministers. Yes, Thomas Strong was his father! Lucy's father! Why, he and Lucy werebrother and sister!

It is quite useless to try to tell all that was in Chester Lawrence'sthoughts and heart from then on all that afternoon. He did not know, neither did he care how long he lay on the grass in the park, but therecame a time when his solitude became unbearable, so he walked withfeverish haste into the crowded streets. The lamps were being lightedwhen he came to the Thames Embankment, where he watched for a time theblack, sluggish water being sucked out to sea by the outgoing tide. Thenhe walked on. St. Paul loomed high in the murky darkness. He got intothe ridiculously narrow streets of Paternoster Row, where he had on hisfirst visit bought a Bible. The evening was far spent and the crowdswere thinning when he recognized the Bank of England corner. 

Realizing at last that he was tired, he climbed on top of a bus going inthe direction of his lodgings, where he arrived somewhere near midnight. He went to bed, but not to sleep for many hours. 

"Lucy, you are my sister. I love you as that--but my wife you never canbe--" yes; he would have to tell her that. But why had this father ofhis let him and Lucy go on as they had? He had told his father thesecret of his life. He remembered distinctly his father's actions how hehad even called him "son, " which he had thought at the time was forLucy's sake. Knowing him and Lucy to be brother and sister, why had hepermitted them to form ties such as had been formed? Was it a plot onhis father's part to again bring misery to human souls, to make tosuffer those that were of his own flesh and blood? No, no; that wasimpossible. Surely he was not that kind of man. 

More clearly now the panorama of his life came before him. Where was theLord in all this? He had thought the Lord had led his steps wonderfullyto so meet one who made his life supremely happy--but now--the darknessand the despair of soul came again--was this not a hideous nightmare?The day would bring light and peace. 

Towards morning, Chester dozed fitfully, and at last when he awoke theday was well advanced. He and Uncle Gilbert had been in the park--unclein reality now. Yes; it all came to him again. It had been no dream. 

Chester got up, soused himself in cold water, then as he was dressingsaid to himself. "Well, what's to be done? I must make this thing sureone way or another. " Perhaps there may be a mistake, though he could notunderstand how. He would go direct to Thomas Strong and ask him. 

He had no appetite for breakfast, so he ate none. As early as he thoughtwise, he set out. How should he meet Lucy? What could he say? If hecould only evade her. 

No; Lucy was watching for him, with a worried expression on her face, which deepened when she saw Chester's. 

"I must see your father, " he said with no effort to even take her hand. 

"Papa is not any better, I fear. "

"But I must see him. Where is Uncle Gilbert?"

"Shall I call him?"

"Yes, _please_. "

Lucy returned, and Uncle Gilbert met Chester in the hall. 

"He is very nervous again this morning, and I don't think you ought toexcite him, " explained the brother. 

"I must see him--just for a minute. I'll not engage him in any extendedconversation. "

"That you cannot do as he can hardly speak. His trouble affects him inthat way. "

"Let me see him just for a moment--alone, please. Is he awake?"

"Oh yes; he's not that bad. Go in a moment, then, but be careful. "

Chester passed in where the minister sat in an arm chair, propped upwith pillows, signs of Lucy's tender care. As Chester entered, the mansmiled and reached out his hand. The resentment in the young man's heartvanished, when he saw the yearning in the suffering man's face. Yet hestood for some time rooted to the spot, looking at the man who was nodoubt his father. Every line of that face stood out boldly to Chester. How often, in his boyhood days he had pictured to himself what hisfather was like--and here he was before him. In those days he had nurseda hatred against that unknown sire, but now there was no more of that. If only, --Chester kneeled by the side of the minister's chair, lettingthe old man cling to his hand. He looked without wavering into the drawnface and said:

"Are you my father?"

The man's hand dropped as if lifeless, but Chester picked it up again, holding it close. 

"Tell me, " he repeated, "are you my father?"

"Yes, " came slowly and with effort, as tremblingly the father put hishands first on Chester's shoulders as he kneeled before him, then raisedthem to his head, asking, "Do--you--hate--me? Don't--" That seemed to beall he was able to articulate. 

"No, no; I do not hate you; for are you not--are you not my father!"

"Yes. "

The son put his arms around his father's neck and kissed him. The fatherpatted contentedly the head of the young man, as a parent fondlycaresses a child. They were in that position when Lucy tapped lightly onthe door, opened it, and came in. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Chester got away from Lucy and Uncle Gilbert that morning, withoutbetraying his father's secret, which had now also become his own. If hisfather had kept the secret so long, it was evidently for a purpose; hewould try not to be the first to reveal it. He kissed Lucy somewhathurriedly, she thought, as he left. 

The sooner he got away the fewer of his strange actions he would have toexplain. He did not look back when he walked away for fear that Lucywould be watching him from window or door. 

He went back to his own lodgings rather more by instinct than bythought. He slipped into his room, looked aimlessly about, then went outagain. He must be alone, yet not confined within walls. The park was notfar away, but he walked by it also, on, on. This London is limitless, hethought. One could never escape it by walking. He met other men somehurrying as if stern duty called, others sauntering as if they had nopurpose in life but quiet contemplation. He met women, and if he couldhave read through their weary eyes their life's story, he would notperhaps, have thought his own was the most cruel. A little boy wasgathering dust from the pavement, and Chester was reminded of that otherlittle fellow's structure which the carriage wheels had demolished. Well, he was under the wheel of fate himself. He had heard of thiswheel, but never had he been under it until now!

Chester found himself a street or two from the mission office. He wouldcall and perhaps have a talk with Elder Malby. Why had he not thought ofthat sooner? He quickened his steps, and in a few minutes he was ringingthe bell. He heard it tingle within, but no one responded. He rangagain, and this time steps were heard coming up from the basement. Thehousekeeper opened the door. 

"Good morning, " she greeted him with a smile. 

"Good morning, is Elder Malby in?"

"No; none of the elders are in. They are out tracting, I think--butwon't you come in?"

"No, thank you, I wanted to see Elder Malby. "

"Well, _he_ might be back at any time--come in and rest. You looktired. "

"Well--I believe I will. "

He followed the motherly housekeeper into the office parlor, where shebade him be seated. She excused herself as her work could not beneglected--Would he be interested in the London papers, or the latest_Deseret News_. She pointed to the table where these papers lay, thenwent about her work. 

Chester looked listlessly at the papers, but did not attempt to read. Presently, the housekeeper came back. 

"I'm having a bite to eat down in the dining room. Come and keep mecompany. The Elders don't eat till later, but I must have something inthe middle of the day. "

Chester went with her into the cool, restful room below, and partookwith her of the simple meal. Not having had breakfast, he ate withrelish. Besides, there was a spirit of peace about the place. His achingheart found some comfort in the talk of the good woman. 

Shortly afterwards, Elder Malby arrived, and he saw in a moment thatsomething was the matter with his young friend. 

"How are the folks, " he asked, "Lucy and her father?"

"He is not well, " Chester replied. 

"That's too bad. And you are worried?"

"Yes; but not altogether over that. There is something else, BrotherMalby. I'll have to tell you about it. Will we be uninterrupted here?"

"Come with me, " said the elder and he took him into his own room up aflight of stairs. "Now, then, what can I do to help you?"

"You will pardon me, I know; but somehow, I was led to tell you my storyon ship-board, and you're the only one I can talk to now. " Then Chestertold the elder what he had learned. When he had finished, the elder'sface was very grave. 

"What ought I to do?" asked Chester; "what can I do?"

The other shook his head. "This is a strange story, " he said; "but therecan be no doubt that you are his son. You look like him. I noticed it onship-board, but of course said nothing about it. But you _do_ look likehim. "

"Do I?"

"Yes; but why he encouraged you to make love to your sister--that isbeyond me--I--I don't know what to say. "

"Oh, what _can_ I do?"

There was a pause. Then the elder as if weighing well every word, said:

"My boy, you can pray. "

"No; I can't even do that. I haven't said my prayers since this thingcame to me. What can I pray about? What can I ask of God?"

"Listen. It is easy to pray when everything is going along nicely, andwe are getting everything we ask for; but when we seem to be up againsthard fate; when despair is in our hearts and the Lord appears to havedeserted us, then it is not so easy; but then is when we need most topray. "

"Yes, yes, brother, true enough; but what's the use?"

"Look here, once before, in your life, you felt as you do now; and youtold me yourself that not until you said both in your heart and to God'Thy will be done' did you get peace. Try it again, brother. There is nodarkness but the Light of Christ can penetrate, there is no seeming evilbut the Lord can turn to your good. What did Job say of the Lord?"

"I don't know. "

"'Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him. ' And you are not yet asJob. He lost everything. You have gained a father and a sister. That, certainly, is something. "

"Yes, it is; and yet in the finding of these two, I have lost--well--youknow--"

"Yes; I know; but the Lord can even make that right. Trust Him, trustHim, always and in everything. That's my motto for life. I can not getalong without it. "

"Thank you so very much. "

They talked for some time, then they went out for a walk. 

"But you haven't time to spend on me like this, " remonstrated Chester. 

"I am here to do all the good I can, and why should my services not begiven to those of the faith as well as to those who have no use for menor my message? Come along; I want to tell you of another letter which Ireceived from home, --yes, the twin calves are doing fine. "

Chester smiled, which was just what his companion wanted. "You remainhere today, " continued the elder. "The boys will be in after a while, and then we shall have dinner. After that, if you are still thinking toomuch of your own affairs, we'll take you out on the street and let youpreach to the crowd. "

"That might help, " admitted Chester. 

"Help! It's the surest kind of cure. "

Chester remained with the elders during the afternoon and evening, evengoing out with them on the street. He was not called on to preach, however, though he would have attempted it had he been asked. 

Chester slept better that night. He felt so sure of himself next morningthat he could call on Lucy, and do the right thing. He did not forget orneglect his prayers any more, and he was well on the way of sayingagain, "Thy will be done, " in the right spirit. 

Uncle Gilbert met Chester at the door, not very graciously, however. Hereplied to Chester's inquiries sharply:

"My brother is quite ill, brought about, I have no doubt, by your unwiseactions of yesterday morning. What was the matter with you? I don'tunderstand you. "

Chester did not attempt any explanation or defense. 

"And Lucy, too, was quite ill yesterday--no; she is not up yet--no; Idon't think you had better come in. I shall not permit you to see mybrother again until he is better. "

"I'm very sorry, " said Chester. "I must see Lucy, however, and so I'llcall again after a while. " He walked away. He did not blame UncleGilbert, who was no doubt doing the best he knew, although somewhat inthe dark. He walked in the park for an hour and then came back. 

Lucy met him at the gate. She was dressed as if for walking. Her facebetrayed the disturbance in her soul, and Chester's heart went out inpity for her. 

"Yes, " she said simply, "I was going out to find you, I heard UncleGilbert send you away. Shall we walk in the park?"

"Yes; I am glad you came out. Is your father worse this morning?"

"I don't think he is worse. He is simply in the stage of his attackswhen he can't talk. I'm sure he'll be all right in a day or two; butUncle Gilbert don't understand. "

"And you, Lucy--you must not worry. "

"How can I help it? Something is the matter with you. Why do you act sostrangely?"

They found the bench on which they were wont to rest, and seatedthemselves. 

Chester could not deny that he had changed; yet how could he tell herthe truth? She must know it, the sooner the better. It might be manydays before her father could tell her, even if he were inclined to doso. The situation was unbearable. She must know, and he must tell her. 

"Lucy, " he said after a little struggle with his throat, "I havesomething to tell you, --something strange. Oh, no, nothing evil or bad, or anything like that. "

He took her hands which were trembling. 

"You must promise me that you will take this news quietly. "

"Just as quietly as I can, Chester. "

"Well, you know how excitement affects your heart, so I shall not tellyou if you will not try to be calm. "

"And now, of course, I can be indifferent, can I, even if you shouldsay no more? Oh, Chester, what is it? The suspense is a thousand timesharder than the truth. What have you got to tell me? What passed betweenyou and papa last evening? Is it--have you ceased to love me?"

"No, no, Lucy, not that. I love you as much as ever, more than ever forsomething has been added to my first love--that of a love for a sister. "

"Yes, Chester I know. When I was baptized--"

"No; you don't know. I don't mean that. "

"What _do_ you mean?"

Oh, it was so hard to go on. One truth must lead to another. If he toldher he was her brother in the flesh as well as in the spirit, she wouldwant to know how, why; and the explanation would involve her father. Hehad not thought of that quite so plainly. But he could not now stop. Hemust go on. He felt about for a way by which to approach the revelationgradually. 

"You have never had a brother, have you?" he asked. 

"No. "

"Would you like to have one?"

"I've always wanted a brother. "

"How would I do for one?"

She looked at him curiously, then the sober face relaxed and she smiled. 

"Oh, you'd make a fine one. "

"You wouldn't object. "

"I should think not. "

"But, now, what would you think if I _was_ your real brother, if my namewas Chester Strong?"

"I'd think you were just joking a little. "

"But I'm not joking, Lucy; I am in earnest. Take a good look at me, hereat this profile. Do I look like your father?"

She looked closely. "I believe you do, " she said, still without a guessat the truth. "Your forehead slopes just like his, and your nose has thesame bump on it. I never noticed that before. "

"What might that mean, Lucy?"

"What might what mean?"

"That I look like your father. "

He had turned his face to her now, but she still gazed at him, as if thetruth was just struggling for recognition. The smile vanished for aninstant from her face, and then returned. She would not entertain theadvance messenger. 

"I don't object to your looking like my papa, for he's a mighty finelooking man. "

"Lucy, you saw what your father and I were doing last night?"

"Yes. "

"What did you think--what do you now think of us?"

"Again, Chester, I don't object to you and father spooning a bit. Infact, I think that's rather nice. "

Chester laughed a little now, which loosened the tension considerably;but he returned to the attack:

"Lucy, what would you think if your father had a son who had been lostwhen a baby, and that now he should return to him as a grown man?"

"Well, I would think that would be jolly, as the English say. "

"And that his son's name was Chester Lawrence?" he continued as if therehad been no interruption. 

Now the cog in Lucy's mental make-up caught firmly into the machinerythat had been buzzing about her for some time. 

"Are you my brother?" she asked. 

"Yes; I am your brother. "

"My real, live, long lost brother?"

"Yes. "

"Now I see what you have been driving at all this time. You say you aremy brother, that my father is your father. Now explain. "

"That's not so easy, Lucy. I would much rather your father would dothat. But I can tell you a little, for it's very little I know--and, Lucy, that little is not pleasant. "

"But I must know. " Her face was serious again. She was bracing herselfbravely too. 

"I was born outside the marriage relation, and your father was myfather!"

That was plain enough--brutally plain. The girl turned to marble. Had hekilled her?

"Go on, " she whispered. 

"No more now--some other time. "

"Go on, Chester. "

Chester told her in brief sentences the simple facts, and what had ledto his discovery of the truth just the other day. It was this that hadcaused the change she had noticed in him. 

"Lucy, I was not sure, " he said, "so I went to your father last nightand asked him pointedly, directly, and he said 'Yes. ' That explains thesituation you found us in. My heart went out to my father, Lucy; and hisheart went out to his son. "

"The son to which his heart has been reaching for many long years, Chester. Yes, I see it plainly. . . . You have told the truth . . . You aremy brother--you--"

She trembled, then fell into his arms; but she controlled herself again, and when he kissed her pale face and stroked her hair, she opened hereyes and looked steadily up into his face. Thus they remained for atime, heedless of the few passers-by who but looked at a not uncommonsight. She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them Chester wasstruggling hard to keep back the tears. 

To tell the truth, both of them cried a little about that time, and itdid them good too. They got up, walked about on the grass for a timeuntil they could look more unmovedly at their changed standing to eachother. Then they talked more freely, but things were truly so newlymixed that it was difficult to get them untangled. At last Lucy said shewould have to go back to her father--our father, she corrected. 

"And he knows, remember, " said Chester to her. "I and you also know. Weknow too, " he added, "that the Lord is above, and will take care of usall. "

"Yes, " said Lucy. 

Then they went back. The father was still very ill. Chester did not tryto see him, for Uncle Gilbert had not relented. 

"I'm going to see Elder Malby this afternoon, " said Chester. "Thisevening I shall call again. Meanwhile"--they were alone in the hallnow--"you must keep up your courage and faith. I feel as thougheverything will yet turn out well. "

He took her as usual in his arms, and she clung to him closer than shehad ever done before. 

"Chester, " she said, "I can't yet _feel_ that there is any difference inour relationship. You are yet my lover, are you not?"

"Yes, Lucy; and you are my sweetheart. Somehow, I am not condemned whenI say it. What can it be--"

"Something that whispers peace to our hearts. "

"The Comforter, Lucy, the Comforter from the Lord. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

The delay in getting back to Kildare Villa was making Uncle Gilbertnervous. In his own mind, he blamed Chester Lawrence for being the causeof much of the present trouble, though in what way he could not clearlytell. The young man's presence disturbed the usual placid life of theminister. Why such a disturber should be so welcomed into the family, the brother could not understand. Perhaps this new-fangled religioncalled "Mormonism" was at the root of all the trouble. 

In his confusion, Uncle Gilbert determined on a very foolish thing: hewould get his brother and Lucy away with him to Ireland, leaving Chesterbehind, for at least a few days. Of course, a young fellow in love asdeeply as Chester seemed to be, would follow up and find them again, butthere would be a respite for a time. With this idea in mind, UncleGilbert, the very next day, found Chester at his lodgings; andapparently taking him into his confidence, told him of his plan. Chesterwas willing to do anything that Uncle Gilbert and "the others" thoughtwould be for the best. Chester was made to understand that "the others"agreed to the plan, and although the thought sent a keen pang throughthe young man's heart, he did not demur. 

It must also be admitted that Uncle Gilbert was not quite honest withLucy, for when he proposed to her to get her father to Ireland as soonas possible, she understood that Chester was lawfully detained, butwould meet them perhaps in Liverpool. Though she, too, felt keenly theparting, yet she mistrusted no one. 

So it came about that Lucy and her father were hurried to the stationearly next morning to catch a train for Liverpool. The minister wasphysically strong enough to stand the journey, but he mutely questionedthe reason for this hasty move. Chester had absented himself all theprevious day, and he did not even see them off at the station. Lucycould not keep back the tears, though she tried to hide them as shetucked her father comfortably about with cushions in the first classcompartment which they had reserved. 

Uncle Gilbert's victory was short lived, however; no sooner did theailing man realize that Chester was not with them than he become visiblyaffected. He tried hard to talk, but to no avail. He looked pleadinglyat Lucy and at his brother as if for information, but without results. Lucy's pinched, tear-stained face added to his restlessness, and therewas a note of insincerity in Uncle Gilbert's reassuring talk that hisbrother did not fail to discern. 

That ride, usually so pleasant over the beautiful green country, was amost miserable one. It was so painful to see the expression on theminister's face that Uncle Gilbert began to doubt the wisdom of the planhe was trying. Lucy became quite alarmed, and asked if they ought not tostop at one of the midland cities; but Uncle Gilbert said they couldsurely go on to Liverpool. 

"But we can't cross over to Ireland. Father could not possibly stand thetrip, " she said. 

The uncle agreed to that. "We'll have to stop at Liverpool for a day orso--I have it!" he exclaimed, "Captain Andrew Brown is now at home. Hetold me to be sure to call, and bring you all with me. He has a verynice house up the Mersey--a fine restful place. We'll go there. "

And they did. Lucy could say nothing for or against, and the father wasso ill by the time they reached Liverpool that he did not seem torealize what he was doing or where he was going. A cab took them all outfrom the noises of the city to the quiet of the countryside. It wasafternoon, and the sun shone slantingly on the waters of the river, above which on the hills amid trees and flowering gardens stood thehouse of Captain Andrew Brown. 

As the carriage rolled along the graveled path to the house, the captainhimself came to meet them, expressing his surprise and delight, andwelcoming them most heartily. The minister was helped out and into thehouse, where he was made comfortable. Lucy was shown to her room by thehousekeeper. Uncle Gilbert made explanations to the captain of thereason for this untoward raid on his hospitality. 

"I'm mighty glad you came, " said the captain. "You couldn't possiblehave gone on, and as for stopping at a hotel--if you had, I should neverhave forgiven you. "

The sick man would not take anything to eat. He lay as if half asleep, so he was put to bed. Lucy remained with him during the evening. Once ina while he would open his eyes, reach out his hand for hers and hold itfor a moment. Poor, dear father, she thought, as she stroked his hairsoftly. What could Chester mean to leave his father, even for a fewdays? He ought to be here. . . . She could not understand. Was it all justan excuse to get away from them? to get away from this newly-foundfather and sister? She would not believe that of Chester. That couldn'tbe true, and yet, and yet--

She turned lower the light, went to the window, and looked out on theriver. A crescent moon hung above the mist. The water lay still as ifasleep, only broken now and then by some passing craft. The breezeplayed in the trees near the window and the perfumes of the rich flowerbeds were wafted to her. The girl stood by the window a long time as ifshe expected her lover-brother to come to her through the half darkness. Perhaps, after all, it was better he did not come. Perhaps he had actedwisely. 

The father lay as if sleeping, so she continued to look out at the moonand the water. Her heart burned, but out of it came a prayer. Then shequietly kneeled by the window sill, and still looking out into the nightshe poured out the burden of her heart to the Father whose power tobless and to comfort is as boundless as the love of parent for child. 

Captain Brown was not an old man, yet in his fine strong face there weredeep lines traced by twenty years on the sea. Ten years on the bridgebasking in the sun, facing storm and danger had told their tale. He wasin the employ of a great navigation company whose ships went to the endsof the earth for trade. He had built this home-nest for wife and child, to which and to whom he could set the compass of his heart from any portand on any sea. Three years ago wife and child had taken passage overthe eternal sea. Now he came back only occasionally, between trips. Hishousekeeper always kept the house as nearly as possible like it was whenwife and child were there. 

"I have a week, perhaps ten days ashore, " explained Captain Brown nextmorning at the breakfast table, "and I was just wondering what I coulddo all that time--when here you are! You are to remain a week. Tut, tut, business"--this to Uncle Gilbert who had protested--"you ought not toworry any longer about business. Aren't we making you good money? Oh, Isee! Aunt Sarah; well, we'll send for her. Your father can't possibly bemoved, can he, Miss Lucy?"

"He's very comfortable here, " replied Lucy. 

"To be sure he is--and you, too, look as though a rest would help you. "

"I have to get back soon--ought to be in Cork tomorrow, in fact, " saidUncle Gilbert. 

"Well, now Gilbert, if you _have_ to, I've no more to say--about you. Go, of course; but Lucy and her father are going to stay with me. I'mthe doctor and the nurse. You go to Aunt Sarah, for that's your'business reason' and it's all right--I'm not blaming you--and in a weekcome back for your well brother. "

"Yes, that might do, " agreed Uncle Gilbert, with much relief in hismanner of saying it. "I don't like to impose on you--"

"Look here--if you want to do me a favor, you go to your wife and let metake care of these people. In fact, " he laughed, "I don't want youaround bothering. The steamer sails for Dublin this evening. "

Out of this pleasant banter came the fact that Uncle Gilbert could verywell go on his way to Ireland. His brother was in no immediatedanger--in fact that morning he was resting easily and his power ofspeech was returning. Gilbert spoke to his brother about the plan, andno protest was made. So that evening, sure enough, Uncle Gilbert wasdriven in to Liverpool by the captain, where he set sail for home. 

No sooner was his brother well out of the way than Lucy's father calledto her. He had been up and dressed all afternoon. He was now recliningin the captain's easy chair by the window. Lucy came to him. 

"Yes, father, " she said. 

He motioned to her to sit down. She fetched a stool and seated herselfby him, so that he could touch her head caressingly as he seemed todesire. 

"Where is Chester?" he asked slowly, as was his wont when his speechcame back. 

"In London, " she replied. "He could not come with us. "

"So--Gilbert said;--but I--want him. "

"Shall we send for him?"

"Yes. "

The father looked out of the window where shortly the moon would againshine down on the river. He stroked the head at his knee. 

"Lucy, you--love me?"

"Oh, father, dear daddy, what a question!"

"I--must--tell you--something--should--have told you--long ago--"

It was difficult for the man to speak; more so, it appeared, because hewas determined to deliver a message to the girl--something that couldnot wait, but must be told now. Impatient of his slow speech, he walkedto the table and seated himself by it. 

"Light, " he said; and while Lucy brought the lamp and lighted it hefound pencil and paper. She watched him curiously, wondering what wasabout to happen. Was he writing a message to Chester?

From the other side of the table she watched him write slowly andlaboriously until the page was full. Then he paused, looked up at Lucyopposite, reached for another sheet and began again. That sheet was alsofilled, and the girl's wonder grew. Then he pushed them across thetable, saying, "Read;" and while she did so, he turned from her, hishead bowed as if awaiting a sentence of punishment. 

A little cry came from the reader as her eyes ran along the penciledlines. Then there was silence, broken only by her hard breathing, andthe ticking of the clock on the mantel. Then while the father still satwith bowed head, the girl arose softly, came up to him, kneeled beforehim, placed a hand on each of his cheeks, kissed him, and said:

"You are my father anyway--always have been, always will be--the onlyone I have ever known. Thank you for taking me an outcast, orphaned babyand adopting me as your own. Oh, I _love you daddy for that_!

Just a few days before a son had found a father at this man's knee; nowby the same knee Lucy first realized that this man was her father onlyin the fact that he had fathered her from a child; but as that, afterall, is what counts most in this world, she thought none the less ofhim; rather, her heart went out to the man in a way unknown before. 

"Chester doesn't know this?" she asked. "Chester is _not_ my brother?"

"No. "

"Oh, he must know this--he must know right away, " she panted. 

"Yes--I meant to tell--but I couldn't--" said he. 

"I know daddy dear; I know, don't worry. We'll send for him rightaway--poor boy. There's Captain Brown now. I'll run down and ask him tosend a telegram. Yes, I have his address. "

She kissed him again, holding his head between her palms, and sayingsoftly, "Daddy, dear daddy. " Then she sped down to where the Captain wastalking in the hall. The Rev. Thomas Strong looked up, listened to theirconversation, and then smiled. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The reason why Chester permitted Lucy and his father to set out forIreland without him was because he trusted Uncle Gilbert--and the Lord;however, it was no easy matter to be thus left behind. Surely, he wouldbe more of a help than a hindrance on the journey. He forced himself tolie abed the morning they were to be off, until after the train left. Then, knowing he was safe from doing that which his Uncle had desiredhim not to do, he leisurely arose, very late for breakfast. 

The problem with the young man now was what to do while he was waiting. London sights, even those he had not seen before, were tame now. Thenewly-found father and sister had already left him. Had it not been adream, and was he not now awake to the reality of his old life?

He found himself once more attracted to the Mission headquarters. ElderMalby was at home that morning. Chester told him the latest development. 

"Has she--have they--deserted me, do you think?" asked Chester. 

"No--I don't think so, " replied the elder thoughtfully. "Lucy did notimpress me as a girl who would do that. I see no reason for suchactions, but perhaps Uncle Gilbert was right. Your father needed to getaway from you to readjust himself to the new condition. "

"Well, perhaps, --but what can I now do? this waiting will be terrible. "

"You'll come with me this morning. I have some calls to make. "

And so all that day Chester remained with Elder Malby, visiting Saintsand investigators, adjusting difficulties, and explaining principles ofthe gospel. It was a splendid thing for the young man, this getting histhoughts from self; and before evening, he had obtained so much of themissionary spirit that he asked to be permitted to bear his testimony atthe street meeting. "The louder the mob howls and interrupts, the betterfor me, " he declared. "You remember the other evening when a youngfellow stood within a few feet of you and kept repeating: 'Liars, liars, from Utah'?"

"Yes; I remember. "

"I'd like to talk to that fellow tonight. "

So Chester talked at the street-meeting that evening, but to a veryorderly lot of people. After the services, many pressed around him andasked him questions. One young man walked with him and the elders to themission office. They talked on the gospel, and Chester forgot his ownheartache in ministering to another heart hungering for the truth. 

The next morning, Chester tried again to remain in bed, but this timewithout success. He was up in the gray awakening city, walking in thepark, listening to the birds near by and the rumbling beginnings ofLondon life. After breakfast, he went again to the Church office. 

"You must excuse me for thus being such a bother, " he explained to ElderMalby, "but--but I can't keep away. "

"I hope you never will, " replied the elder, encouragingly. "It is whenmen like you keep away that there is danger. "

"What's the program today?"

"Tracting. Do you want to try?"

"Yes; I want to keep going. Yesterday was not bad. I felt fine all day. "

That afternoon Chester had his first trial in delivering gospel tractsfrom door to door. He approached his task timidly, but soon caught thespirit of the work. He had a number of interesting experiences. One oldgentleman invited him into the house, that he might more freely tell theyoung man what he thought of him and his religion, and this was by nomeans complimentary. An old lady, limping to the door and learning thatthe caller was from America, told him she had a son there--and did heknow him? Then there were doors slammed in his face, and some gracioussmiles and "thank you"--altogether Chester was so busy meeting thesevarious people that he had no time to worry over those who now should benearly to Kildare Villa in green Ireland. 

While he was eating supper with the elders, which Elder Malby said hehad well earned, a messenger came to the door. Was one Chester Lawrencethere? Yes. 

"A telegram for him, please. "

Chester opened the message and read:

"Come to Liverpool in morning. All well. Tell me when and where to meetyou--Lucy. "

Chester handed the message to Elder Malby. 

"Once more, don't you see, " said the elder, smiling, "all is well. "

"Yes; yes, " replied Chester in a way which was more of a prayer ofthanksgiving than common speech. 

Early the following morning Captain Brown was rewarded for his gallantlack of inquisitiveness regarding the sending and the receiving oftelegrams by Lucy coming to him with her sweetest smile and saying:

"Captain Brown, was that horse and carriage you used yesterday yours?"

"Oh no; that belongs to my neighbor--only when I am not using it. Do youwish a drive this morning?"

"I want to meet the noon train from London at Lime Street Station; andif it wouldn't be too much trouble--"

"Not at all. My neighbor is very glad to have me exercise the horse abit. Can you drive him alone?"

"I'm a little nervous. "

"Will I do for coachman?"

"If you would, Captain?"

"Then that's settled. I'll go immediately and make arrangements;" whichhe did. 

"Papa, " said Lucy to her father, "the captain will drive me to thestation. You'll be all right until we get back?"

"All right, yes; don't worry more about me. I'm getting strong fasterthan I ever did before. See. "

He paced back and forth with considerable vim in his movements. "Why, "he continued, stopping in front of Lucy and kissing her gently on thecheek, "I feel better right now than I have for a long time--betterinside, you know. "

Lucy did not understand exactly what he meant by the "inside, " but shedid not puzzle her head about it. She was happy to know that her fatherwas so well and that Chester was speeding to her. The day promised to befair, and the drive to the station would be delightful. She was lookingout of the window. 

"Lucy, " said her father, placing his hand on her shoulder, "you need nottell Captain Brown the little secrets you have learned; and I think yourUncle Gilbert need not know any more than he does. It is just as wellfor all concerned that these things remain to outward appearances justas they have in the past. "

"All right, papa. "

"We--Chester and you and I will know and understand and be happy. Whatelse matters?"

"What, indeed. "

"Now, there's the captain already. He's early; but perhaps he intendsdriving you about a bit first. "

That was just it. The morning air was so invigorating, Captain Brownexplained, that it was a pity not to feel it against one's face. He knewof a number of very pretty drives, round-about ways, to the station, andthe fields were delightfully green just then. 

In a short time away they rattled down the graveled road, the fatherwaving after them. It was a good thing, said Lucy, that strong hands hadthe reins, for the horse was full of life. They sped over the smooth, hedge-bordered roads, winding about fields and gardens until theyarrived at Calderstone Park. Here the captain pointed out the CalderStones, ruins of an ancient Druid place of worship or sacrifice. Thenthey drove leisurely through Sefton Park, thence townward to thestation. 

They had a few moments to wait, during which the driver stroked thehorse's nose, talking to him all the while not to be afraid of the noisycars. The whistle's shrill pipe sounded and the train rolled in. Thecaptain stood by his horse, while Lucy went to the platform, and metChester as he leaped from the car. 

"Oh, ho, " said the captain to his horse, when he saw the meeting. Apartial explanation was given him of the "certain young man" whom theywere to meet. 

The captain held the carriage door open to them like a true coachman. "Take the back seat, please, " he commanded, after the introduction; "inthese vehicles, the driver sits in front. "

The captain drove straight home, so in a very-short time they were setdown at the steps. 

"Go right in, " he said. "I'll take the horse back, and be with youshortly. "

The housekeeper met them in the hall, took wraps and hats, and directedthem upstairs where the "gentleman" was waiting. Lucy had had noopportunity to tell Chester the secret about herself, so she would haveto let his father do so. They walked quietly to the father's room andopened the door softly. He appeared to be sleeping in his chair, so theytip-toed into another room. 

"Is he better?" asked Chester. 

"Nearly well again. " They did not seat themselves, but stood by thetable. She came close to him, smiling up into his face and said, "_Everything's_ all right, Chester. "

"Yes, of course, " he replied. "You are looking so rosy and well, Iforget you are an invalid. "

"Don't think of it. I'm going to live a long, long time, Chester--withyou. Listen, dear, and don't look so worried. Things have changed again. I don't need to break good news gently, so I may tell you now, papa--Imean, your father, has been telling me something I never dreamedof--Chester, listen. I'm not your father's child--only byadoption--you're not my brother, only of course in the brotherhood ofthe faith. "

"Lucy, what are you saying?"

"I am telling you the truth--as I was told it. He adopted me as ababy--I was an orphan--I am not your sister. Chester--I--"

He seized her hands, and held her at arms length, while his eyes seemedto devour her. She could not repress the tears, and when he saw them, hedrew her close and kissed her. 

"Lucy, not my sister, but my sweetheart again, my little wife tobe--what--does it all mean?"

There came a loud knock at the door, and the father entered withoutbeing bidden. He walked firmly up to them, placed a hand on eachshoulder, and said:

"My son, I have to ask your forgiveness again. I intended to tell youabout Lucy as soon as you learned the truth about yourself, but I washindered. Don't think, my boy, that I would purposely cause yousuffering. What Lucy has told you is true, and I am so glad that themisunderstanding and the mixups no longer exist between us. "

The three now found seats and talked over the new situation in whichthey found themselves, not forgetting the part Uncle Gilbert had takenin recent events, until the strenuous voice of Captain Brown had tosupplement the housekeeper's bell, before the three would come down forluncheon. 

Those were golden days to Chester, Lucy, and the Rev. Thomas Strong. Outof restless uncertainty, doubts, fears, and heart-aching experiencesthey now had come to a period of peaceful certainty. Out of straits theyhad come to a quiet sun-kissed harbor. 

Captain Brown looked on all this happiness approvingly. His shore leavewas going splendidly. The neighbor's horse and carriage were oftenbrought into requisition, and the father would not be denied his shareof these drives. The captain's own boat, long since unused, was put intocommission, and with the captain at the tiller the whole family sailedover the placid Mersy. The moon grew rounder, and as the evenings werewarm, the boat often lingered in the moonlight. Then songs were sung, Chester and Lucy singing some which the father recognized as "Mormon, "but which the captain knew only as beautiful and full of sweet spirit. 

During those days when the visitors remained with the captain rathermore for his own sake than for any other reason, there was just onelittle cloud in Chester's and Lucy's sunlight. That was that the fathertook no abiding interest in the religion which now meant so much tothem. Once or twice the subject had been carefully broached by Chester, but each time the father had not responded. He made no objections. Theyoung man sometimes thought there would be more hope if he did. However, he and Lucy were not discouraged. They reasoned, with justice, that itwas no easy matter to change a life-long habit of belief and practice. They comforted each other by the hope that all would be well in the end. Had they not already ample evidence of God's providence shaping allthings right. 

It was plainly to be seen, however, that the father took great comfortin his new-found son; and well any father might, for Chester was astrong, open-spirited, clean young man. Father and son strolled outtogether, Lucy sometimes peeping at them from behind the curtain, butdenying herself of their company. Chester, by his father's request, toldhim more of his life's story. The father wished to live as much as couldbe by word-telling the years he had missed in the life of his son; andthe father, for his part, acquainted Chester with his more recent years. "I married quite late in life, " said the father, "a sweet girl who didmuch for me. That we had no children was a great disappointment to bothof us, and when we saw that very likely we never would have any of ourown, we found and adopted Lucy. She would never have known the truthabout that had not you come and compelled me to tell it. But it's allright now, and the Lord has been kinder to me than I deserve. "

 "'God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform, '"

quoted Chester. 

 "'He plants his footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm, '"

mused the father. 

At another time the father said to Chester:

"My boy, it would please me if you would take my name. You need notdiscard the one you already have, but add mine to it--yours by allthat's right. "

"Yes, father. "

"I have no great fortune, but I have saved a little; and when I am gone, it will be yours and Lucy's--I'll hear no objections to that--for can'tyou see, all that I can possibly do for you will only in part pay forthe wrong I have done. You say you have no definite plans for thefuture. Then you will come with us to Kansas City, where I expect totake up again my labors in the ministry, at least for a time. "

Lucy came upon them at this point. 

"Chester has promised to take my name, " explained the father. 

"That will make it unnecessary for you to change yours, " said Chester, as he put his arm around her. 

A week passed as rapidly as such golden days do. Chester sent the latestnews to Elder Malby. Uncle Gilbert, always impatient, wrote from KildareVilla, asking when they were "coming home. " Captain Brown had made anumber of trips of inspection to the docks to see how the loading of hisship was progressing. 

At the captain's invitation they all visited the vessel one afternoon. 

"Why, " exclaimed Lucy in surprise, when she saw the steamer at the dock, "you have a regular ocean liner here. I thought freight boats were smallconcerns. "

"Small! well, now, you know better. Come aboard. "

He led the way on deck, and then below. 

"This ship is somewhat old, " explained Captain Brown, "but she is stillstaunch and seaworthy. As you see, she has once been a passenger boat, and in fact, she still carries passengers--when we can find some whowould rather spend twelve days in comfort than be rushed across in sixor seven by the latest greyhounds. I say, when we can find such sensiblepeople, " repeated the captain, as he looked curiously at his guests. 

The dining room was spacious, the berths of the large, roomy kind whichthe grasp for economy and capacity had not yet cut down. 

"This is a nicer state room than I had coming over, " declared Lucy. "Whycan't we return with Captain Brown?"

"I should be delighted, " said the captain. "The booking offices are onWater Street. "

"When do you sail?" asked the father. 

"In three days, I believe we shall be ready. "

"And your port?"

"New York. "

"Your cargo?"

"Mixed. "

"Any passengers?"

"A dozen or so--plenty of room, you see. We'll make you comfortable, more so than on a crowded liner. Think about it, Mr. Strong. "

"We shall, " said Lucy and her father in unison. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

And thus it came about that the party of three visiting with CaptainAndrew Brown, decided to sail with him to New York. A few more days onthe water was of no consequence, except as Chester said to Lucy, toenjoy a little longer the after-seasickness period of the voyage. As forChester himself, he was very pleased with the proposition. 

A visit to the company's office in Water Street completed thearrangement. "Yes, " said the agent, "we can take care of you. There willbe a very small list of passengers, which gives you all the more room. Besides, it's worth while to cross with Captain Brown. "

As the boat did not lay up to the Landing Stage, but put directly to seafrom the dock, the passengers were stowed safely away into theircomfortable quarters the evening before sailing. When they awoke nextmorning, they were well out into the Irish sea, the Welsh hills slowlydisappearing at the left. Chester was the first on deck. He tipped hiscap to Captain Brown on the bridge as they exchanged their morninggreetings. The day was bright and warm, the sea smooth. Chester stoodlooking at the vanishing hills, glancing now and then at thecompanionway, for Lucy. As he stood there, he thought of the time, onlya few days since, when he had caught his first sight of those same greenhills. What a lot had happened to him between those two points of time!A journey begun without distinct purpose had brought to him father andsweetheart. Outward bound he had been alone, empty and void in his life;and now he was going home with heart full of love and life rich withnoble purpose. 

Chester's father appeared before Lucy. The son met him and took his armas they paced the deck slowly. The father declared to Chester that hewas feeling fine; and, in fact, he looked remarkably well. 

"I am sorry we did not hear from Gilbert before we sailed, " said thefather; "but I suppose the fault was ours in not writing to him sooner. "

"He barely had time to get the letter, " said Chester. 

"I suppose so. But it doesn't matter. We should only have just stoppedoff at Kildare Villa to say goodbye, any way. "

"It's a pity we don't stop at Queenstown. He could have come out on thetender. "

"Perhaps he would, and then perhaps he wouldn't. It would depend on justhow he felt--halloo, Lucy--you up already?"

"I couldn't lay abed longer this beautiful morning, " exclaimed Lucy asshe came up to them. "Isn't this glorious! Is Wales below the sea yet?"

"No; there's a tip left. See, there, just above the water. "

"Goodbye, dear old Europe, " said Lucy, as she waved her handkerchief. "I've always loved you--I love you now more than ever. "

Father and son looked and smiled knowingly at her. Then they all wentdown to breakfast. 

Just about that same time of day, Thomas Strong's delayed letterreached his brother in Cork. Uncle Gilbert read the letter while he atehis breakfast, and Aunt Sarah wondered what could be so disturbing inits contents; for he would not finish his meal. 

"What is it, Gilbert?" she asked. 

"Thomas, Lucy, and that young fellow, Chester Lawrence are goingto--yes, have already sailed from Liverpool with Captain Brown. "

"And they're not coming to see us before they leave?"

"Didn't I say, they're already on the water--or should be--off to NewYork with Captain Brown--and he doesn't touch at Queenstown, and in thatboat--"

Uncle Gilbert wiped his forehead. 

"I'm sorry that they did not call, " commented Aunt Sarah complacently;"but I suppose they were in a hurry, and Captain Brown will take care ofthem. "

"In a hurry! No. Captain Brown--" but the remark was lost to his wife. He cut short his eating, hurried to town, and, in faint hopes that itmight be in time, sent a telegram to his brother in Liverpool whichread:

"Don't sail with Captain Brown. Will explain later. "

This telegram was delivered to Captain Brown's housekeeper, who sent itto the steamship company's office, where it was safely pigeon-holed. 

The morning passed at Kildare Villa. The telegram brought no reply. Infoolish desperation, hoping against hope, Uncle Gilbert took the firstfast train northward, crossed by mail steamer to Holyhead, thence on toLiverpool, where he arrived too late. The boat had sailed. He went tothe steamship company's office in Water Street, and passed, withoutasking leave, into the manager's office. That official was alone, whichwas to Gilbert Strong's purpose. 

"Why did you permit my brother to sail with Captain Brown?" asked heabruptly. 

"My dear Mr. Strong, " said the manager, "calm yourself. I do notunderstand. "

"Yes, you do. You know as well as I do that his ship is--is not in thebest condition. You ought not to have allowed passengers at all. "

"Sit down, Mr. Strong. The boat is good for many a trip yet, though itis true, as you know, that she is to go into dry dock for overhauling onher return. Has your brother sailed on her?"

"He has, my brother, his daughter and her young man. I suppose therewere other passengers also?"

"Yes; a few--perhaps twenty-five all told. Don't worry; Captain Brownwill bring them safely through. "

"Yes, " said Gilbert Strong, as he left the office, "yes, if the Lordwill give him a show--but--"

He could say no more, for did he not know full well that at a meeting ofcompany directors at which he had been present, it had been decided totry one more trip with Captain Brown in command, and the fact that theboat was not in good condition was to be kept as much as possible fromthe captain. A little tinkering below and a judicious coat of paintabove would do much to help the appearance of matters, one of thesmiling directors had said. And so--well, he would try not to worry. Ofcourse, everything would be well. Such things were done right along, with only occasionally a disaster or loss--fully covered by theinsurance. 

But for all his efforts at self assurance, when he went home to AuntSarah he was not in the most easy frame of mind. 

 * * * * *

The little company under Captain Brown's care was having a delightfultime. The weather was so pleasant that there was very little sickness. Chester again escaped and even his father and Lucy were indisposed for aday or two only. After that the long sunny days and much of the starrynights were spent on deck. The members of the company soon became wellacquainted. Captain Brown called them his "happy family. "

And now Chester and Lucy had opportunity to get near to each other inheart and mind. With steamer chairs close together up on the promenadedeck where there usually were none but themselves, they would sit forhours, talking and looking out over the sea. "Shady bowers 'mid treesand flowers" may be ideal places for lovers; but a quiet protectedcorner of a big ship which plows majestically through a changeless, yetever-changing sea, has also its charms and advantages. 

On the fourth day out. The water was smooth, the day so warm that theshade was acceptable. Chester and Lucy had been up on the bridge withCaptain Brown, who had told them stories of the sea, and had showed thempictures of his wife and baby, both safe in the "Port of Forever, " hehad said. All this had had its effect on the two young people, and sowhen they went down to escape the glare of the sun on the exposedbridge, they sought a shady corner amid-ships. When they found chairs, Chester always saw that she was comfortable, for though well as sheappeared, she was never free from the danger of a troublesome heart. Thelight shawl which she usually wore on deck, hung loosely from hershoulders across her lap, providing a cover behind which two hands couldclasp. They sat for some time that afternoon, in silence, then Lucyasked abruptly:

"Chester, you haven't told me much about that girl out West. You likedher very much, didn't, you?"

"Yes, " he admitted, after a pause. "I think I can truthfully say I did;but this further I can say, that my liking for her was only a sort ofintroduction to the stronger, more matured love which was to follow, --mylove for you. I think I have told you before that you bear a closeresemblence to her; and it occurs to me now that therein is another ofGod's wonderful providences. "

"How is that?"

"Had you not looked like her I would not have been attracted to you, and very likely, would have missed you and my father, and all this. "

"I'm glad your experience has been turned to such good account. Now, Ifor example, never had a beau until you came. "

"What?"

"Oh, don't feign surprise. You know, I'm no beauty, and I never waspopular with the boys. Someone once told me it was because I was tooreligious. What do you think of that?"

"Too religious! Nonsense. The one thing above another, if there is such, that I like about you is that your beauty of heart and soul correspondsto your beauty of face--No; don't contradict. You have the highest typeof beauty--"

"Beauty is in the eyes that see, " she interrupted. 

"Certainly; and in the heart that understands. As I said, the highesttype of beauty is where the inner and the outer are harmoniouslycombined. I think that is another application of the truth that thespiritual and the mortal, or 'element' as the revelation calls it, mustbe eternally connected to insure a perfect being. Somehow, I alwayssympathize with one whose beautiful spirit is tabernacled in a plainbody. And yet, my pity is a hundred times more profound for one whom Godhas given a beautiful face and form, but whose heart and soul have beenmade ugly by sin--but there, if I don't look out, I'll be preaching. "

"Well, your congregation likes to hear you preach. "

Space will not permit the recording of the number of times emphasis wasgiven to various expressions in this conversation by the hand pressureunder the shawl. 

"Now, " continued he, "I can't conceive of your not having any admirers. "

"I didn't say admirers--I said beaux. "

"Well, I suppose there is a difference, " he laughed. 

"Of course, I have known a good many young men in my time, but thosematrimonially inclined usually passed by on the other side. "

"Perhaps they knew I was coming on this side. "

"Perhaps--There's papa. He looks lonesome. We ought to be ashamed ofourselves to hide from him as we did yesterday. "

"I agree; but he'll find us now. "

Lucy drew the father's attention, and he found a chair near them. 

"Isn't the sea beautiful, " said Lucy, by way of beginning theconversation properly, now a third person was present. "And what a lotof water there is!" she continued. "What did Lincoln say about thecommon people? The Lord must like them, because he made so many of them. Well, the Lord must like water also, as He has made so much of it. "

"Water is a very necessary element in the economy of nature, " said thefather. "Like the flow of blood in the human body, so is water to thisworld. As far as we know, wherever there is life there is water. "

"And that reminds me, " said Lucy eagerly, as if a new thought had cometo her, "that water is also a sign of purity. Water is used, not onlyto purify the body, but as a symbol to wash away the sins of the soul. Paul, you remember, was commanded to 'arise, and be baptized, and washaway thy sins'. " Lucy looked at Chester as if giving him a cue. 

"In the economy of God, " said Chester, "it seems necessary that we mustpass through water from one world to another. In like manner, thegateway to the kingdom of heaven is through water. 'Except a man be bornof water and of the spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God' isdeclared by the Savior himself. "

Whether or not the father understood that this brief sermonizing wasintended primarily for him, he did not show any resentment. He listenedattentively, then added:

"Yes; water has always held an important place among nations. Cicerotells us that Thales the Milesian asserted God formed all things fromwater--Out in Utah, Chester, " said the father, turning abruptly to theyoung man, "you have an illustration of what water can do in the way ofmaking the desert to blossom. "

"Yes; it is truly wonderful, what it has done out there, " agreedChester. Then being urged by both his father and Lucy, he told of theWest and its development. He was adroitly led to talk of Piney RidgeCottage and the people who lived there, their home and community life, their trials, their hopes, their ideals. Ere he was aware, Chester wasagain in the canyons, and crags and mountain peaks, whose wildness wasakin to the wildness of the ocean. Then when his story was told, Lucysaid:

"I know where I could get well. "

"Where?" asked Chester. 

"At Piney Ridge Cottage. "

Chester neither agreed nor denied. Just then a steamer came into sight, eastward bound. It proved to be an "ocean grayhound, " and Captain Browncoming up, let them look at it through his glass. 

"She's going some, " remarked the captain; "but I'll warrant thepassengers are not riding as easy as we. "

"Somehow, " said the father, "a passing steamer always brings to meprofound thoughts. Now, there, for example, is a spot on the vastexpanse of water. It is but a speck, yet within it is a little world, teeming with life. The ship comes into our view, then passes away. Again, the ship is just a part of a great machine--I use this figure forwant of a better one. Every individual on the ship bears a certainrelationship to the vessel; the steamer is a part of this world; thisworld is a cog in the machinery of the solar system; the solar system isbut a small group of worlds, which is a part of and depends on, something as much vaster as the world is to this ship. This men call theUniverse; but all questions of what or where or when pertaining to thisuniverse are unanswerable. We are lost--we know nothing about it--it isbeyond our finite minds. "

Captain Brown stood listening to this exposition. His eyes were on thespeaker, then on the passing steamer, then on the speaker again. 

"Mr. Strong, " said he, "at the last church service I attended inLiverpool, the minister was trying to explain what God is, --and justthat which you have said is beyond us, that vast, unknown, unknowablesomething he called God. "

"Oh, " exclaimed Lucy, involuntarily. 

"I'll admit the definition is not very plain, " continued the captain. "We get no sense of nearness from it. I would not know how to pray to orworship such a God; but what are we to do? I have never heard anythingmore satisfactory, except--well, only when I read my Bible. "

"Why not take the plain statement of the Bible, then?" suggestedChester. 

"I try to, but my thinking of these things is not clear, because of theinterpretation the preachers put upon them--excuse the statement, Mr. Strong; but perhaps you are an exception. I have never heard youpreach. "

The minister smiled good-naturedly. Then he said, "Chester here, isquite a preacher himself. Ask his opinion on the matter. "

"I shall be happy to listen to him. However, I have an errand just now. Will you go with me?" this to Chester. 

Chester, annoyed for a moment at this unexpected turn, arose andfollowed the captain into his quarters. 

"Sit down, " said the captain. "I was glad Mr. Strong gave me anopportunity to get you away, for I have a matter I wish to speak to youabout, a matter which I think best to keep from both Mr. Strong andLucy--but which you ought to know. "

"Yes. "

The officer seated himself near his table on which were outspread chartsand maps. About the table hung a framed picture of the captain's wifeand child, a miniature of which he carried in his breast pocket. 

"In the first place, " began Captain Brown, "I want you to keep thiswhich I tell you secret until I deem it wise to be published. I cantrust you for that?"

"Certainly. "

Always in the company of the passengers, Captain Brown's bearing was oneof assurance. He smiled readily. But now his face was serious, andChester saw lines of care and anxiety in it. 

"I am sorry that I ever suggested to you and your friends--and my dearfriends they are too, " continued the captain, "that you take this voyagewith me, for if anything should happen, I should never forgive myself. However, there is no occasion for serious alarm--yet. "

"What is the matter, captain?"

"I have been deceived regarding the condition of this ship. I was madeto understand that she was perfectly sea-worthy--this is my first tripwith her--but I now learn that the boilers are in a bad state and thepumps are hardly in a working condition. There is--already a small leakwhere it is nearly impossible to be reached. We are holding our ownvery well, and we can jog along in this way for some time, so there isno immediate danger. "

Chester experienced a sinking at the heart. From the many questionswhich thronged into his mind, he put this:

"When might there be danger?"

"If the leak gets bad and the pumps can not handle it. Then a rough seais to be dreaded. "

"What can we do?"

"At present, nothing but keep cool. You are the only one of thepassengers that knows anything about this, and I am telling you becauseI can trust you to be wise and brave, if necessary. If things do notimprove, we shall soon be getting our boats in shape. We shall do thisas quietly as possible, but someone might see and ask questions. Weshall depend on you--and I'll promise to keep you posted on the ship'strue condition. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"And now, " said the captain as his face resumed its cheerful expression, "I must make a trip below. When you see me on the bridge again, come upand make that explanation which Mr. Strong said you were able to do. Ishall be mighty glad to listen to you. "

Chester protested, but the captain would not hear it. "I'll be up in thecourse of half an hour, " said the seaman. "Promise me you'll come?"

"Of course, if you really wish it?"

"I was never more earnest in my life. My boy, let me tell yousomething'. I have listened at times to your conversation on religiousthemes--you and Lucy have talked when I could not help hearing--and Iwant to hear more--I believe you have a message for me. "

There was a smile on the captain's face as he hurried away. AndChester's heart also arose and was comforted, as he lingered for a fewmoments on the deck and then joined Lucy and his father. 

CHAPTER XX. 

In blissful ignorance of any danger, the passengers and most of the crewwent the daily round of pleasure or duty. The games on deck, the smokingand card-playing in the gentlemen's room, the sleeping and the eatingall went on uninterrupted. Captain Brown, though quieter than usual, wasas pleasant and thoughtful as ever. The sea was smooth, the weatherfine, and the ship plowed on her course with no visible indication thatshe was slowly being crippled. 

Lucy had for her use, one of the largest and best ventilated rooms inthe ship. It was so pleasant there, that she spent much of her time inits seclusiveness. It is needless to state that Chester shared thatcomfort and seclusion. Reading, talking, building castles which reachedinto the heavens, these two basked in the warm light of a perfect love. After a little buffeting about in worldly storms, two hearts had come torest; and how penetratingly sweet was that serene peace of soul. In himshe saw her highest ideals realized, her fondest hopes and dreams cometrue. In her he found the composite perfectness of woman. All hisvisions from early youth to the present materialized in the sweet face, gentle spirit and pure soul of Lucy Strong!

Chester, the day after Captain Brown had told him about the condition ofthe ship, found Lucy in her room. She was not well, the father hadsaid, so Chester sought her out. She was reclining on the couch. Hisheart, burdened with what he knew melted towards the girl. He drew astool up to her, and kissed his good-morning. 

"Not so well today?" he asked. 

"No; my heart has been troubling me all night; but I'm better now. "

"Now, see here, my girl, I'm the one that ought to be ill. "

"How's that?" she smiled at him. 

"Have we not exchanged hearts?"

"Oh, I see. Yes; but the strength only went with mine. The weakness Iretained. It would not have been fair otherwise. "

She sat up and pushed back her hair. He seated himself near her and drewher in his arm. He held her close. 

"Some things, " said he, "we can not give, much as we would like. Someburdens we must carry ourselves. "

"Which I take it, is a very wise provision, " she added. 

There was silence after that. It was not easy for either of them totalk, each being constrained with his own crowded thoughts. Chesterlistened to the rhythmic beat of the machinery, and wondered vaguely howlong it would continue thus, and what would happen if it had to stop. 

"Chester, " said Lucy at last, "what if I should die?" She clung to himas she said it. 

"But, my dear, you're not going to die. You're going to get completelywell again--You're going to stay with me, you know. "

"That's the worst, when I think of it--the thought of separating fromyou--O Chester, I can't do that--All my life I've waited and watched foryou, and now to leave you, to lose you again--and we've been togethersuch a short time! I can't bear to think of it. " The tears welled in hereyes. 

"Then, my sweetheart mustn't think of it. We are going to be together, we two. 'Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I willlodge . . . Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried!'quoted the young man, knowing not the prophetic import of his words. Sheleaned on his shoulder, and he stroked the hair from her forehead. 

"Did you have a talk with Captain Brown?" she asked. "Did you answer hisquestions?"

Chester started, then understood. "Oh, yes, " he replied. "Yesterday onthe bridge we talked for an hour. He asked me all manner of questions, and I think I satisfied him. He had heard of Mormonism, ' of course, butnever of its message of salvation. I believe he's converted already. "

"I'm so glad, for he is such a nice man. Chester, I wish your fatherwere more susceptible to the gospel. I can't understand him. He neveropposes, nor does he now find fault with me; but as for himself--well, he says he's going back to the pulpit. "

"I am just as sorry as you, on that score; but we can but do our best, and let the Lord take care of the rest. "

Now when their thoughts ranged from self to others, Lucy felt so muchbetter that she declared she was ready for the deck. So leaning onChester's arm, they carefully climbed the stairs, and came to the open. There was a breeze, and a bank of clouds hung low to windward. Chesteradjusted Lucy's wrap closely as they paced the deck slowly. The cloudslifted into the sky, shutting out the sun. On the horizon, winkings oflightning flashed. Evidently, a storm was coming. 

Captain Brown was quiet at the luncheon table. Chester noted it, andafterwards, followed the captain to the bridge. 

"How goes it?" asked Chester. 

"Not well, " was the reply. "Do you see that list to larboard. "

"I don't understand. "

Without pointing, which action others might see, the captain explainedthat the ship tilted to one side, also that there was a slight "settlingby the head, " that is, the ship was deeper in the water forward than atany other part. Chester noticed it now, and asked what it meant. 

"It means, " explained the captain, "that we are slowlysettling--sinking, in plain words. The pumps can not manage the watercoming into the hold. There is also some trouble with the cargo, whichcauses the list or leaning to one side. From now on, I shall be on thelookout for assistance, which I think, will come in ample time--Nowtell me more about this new prophet, Joseph Smith. "

For an hour they conversed. Then the captain had to go below again, andChester went in search of Lucy. A number of the passengers were standingnear the larboard rail. They noticed the slope of the deck, but did notrealize its meaning, and Chester did not enlighten them. A peculiarheart-sinking feeling persisted with him, which the coming storm did notalleviate. 

The captain was not in his place at dinner, which was all the morenoticeable, because it was the first time he had been absent. Some ofthe passengers were beginning to feel the effects of the higher seas, and they did not eat much. Very few went back to the deck from thetable. Lucy and the minister were among those who went to bed, butChester, clad in water proofs was easier on deck. 

The wind was blowing hard, increasing in time to quite a gale. The wavesbroke over the ship's prow, slushing the forward deck and driving allwho were out either back or to an upper deck. Chester kept away fromCaptain Brown on the bridge, where he no doubt would remain throughoutthe night. 

Darkness came on thick and black. The wind howled hideously aroundsmoke-stack and rigging. The rain came in storms, then ceased only togather more strength for the next squall. How well the ship was standingthe rough weather, Chester did not know, and certainly the otherpassengers had no fears, as most of them were asleep. Chester went downthe companion-way, glanced into the vacant saloon and hallways, andpaused at Lucy's door All was quiet, so she was no doubt asleep. Hisfather was also resting easily. He went on deck again. 

As he mounted the steps to the tipper deck, he saw a brilliant lightshine from the bridge. It flashed for an instant, flooding the ship withlight, then went out. "The captain is signalling, " thought Chester. Infive minutes the light flashed again, thus at regular intervals. The fewpassengers who saw this, becoming alarmed, rushed to the bridge withanxious questions. The captain met them at the foot of the stairs. 

"My friends, " he said in wonderfully calm tones "there is no occasionfor alarm. The weather is very thick, and as we are in the path ofsteamers, these lights are set off as a warning. " This explanation, asChester knew, was not all the truth, but the captain did not want apanic so early in the trouble. The passengers seemed satisfied, but theylingered for some time watching the lights and the remarkable effectsthey had on the ship and the heaving sea. The captain touched Chesterwho was still standing near the steps. 

"You go to bed and get some rest, " he said. "You may need all yourstrength later. There is no danger tonight. Go to bed. "

Chester took the captain's advice. He went to bed, but it was not easyto go to sleep, so he did not do this until well towards morning. 

The storm was still on next morning when Chester awoke. He dressedhurriedly, listened again at Lucy's and his father's doors, but hearingnothing went on deck. The day was well advanced. The wind seemed not sostrong as the night before, and the waves were not so high. However, thesea was rough enough to add to the danger of a sinking ship. Chesternoticed the "list to larboard, " and the "settling at the head, " andfound both of these dangerous conditions worse. The most carelessobserver would not now fail to see that something was the matter. And, in fact, as the passengers came on deck that morning, most of them lateand looking bad from threatened attacks of sea-sickness, theyimmediately remarked on the slanting deck. Anxious enquiries fromofficers and seamen brought no satisfactory reply. Had there been alarge number of passengers, there would likely have been an unpleasantpanic that morning. 

The breakfast was late, and very few of the passengers were there topartake of it. Captain Brown was in his place, greeting the few whoslipped carefully into their seats. As the meal progressed and not overhalf of the usual company put in an appearance, the captain consultedwith the second officer and the steward. Then at the close of the meal, the captain arose and said:

"My friends, I wish you to remain until we can get all who are able tojoin us here. I have something to say which I want all of you to hear. So please remain seated. The steward will see that no one leaves theroom. "

One by one the absent passengers were brought in. Thomas Strong wasamong them, but not Lucy, for which Chester was thankful. The stewardreported that all who were able were present, and then amid a tensesilence, emphasized only by the creaking of the ship and the subduednoise of the sea without, the captain said:

"I am sorry to have to tell you that the ship is in a sinking condition. There is a leak which we have been unable to stop. Two of our boilersare already useless and it is only a matter of time when the water willreach the others. I have not said anything about this until now, for Ihave been hoping to meet with some vessel that could take us off. Sofar, none has appeared. However, we are in the steamer zone, and we havemany chances yet. Today sometime or tonight we must take to the boats, and what I want to impress upon you especially is that you, all of you, must control yourselves. Do not give way to excitement or fear whichmight hinder you from doing what is best. I tell you plainly, that theworst we have to fear on that score is the crew. They are already nearto mutiny. The first officer and others are guarding their exits andkeeping the stokers at their posts. They are a rough lot of men, and itwill not do to let them get beyond our control. I shall, therefore, askthe help of every man present. When it comes to launching the boats, itmust be done in order. There are boats enough, but there must not be anycrowding. With the present rough water it will be difficult to get theboats off. It is necessary, therefore, that the greatest care be taken. Now, then, that is all. Go about quietly. Each man and woman get a lifebelt ready, but you need not put them on until you are told. The stewardwill give the order. "

He ceased, turned, and hurried up the companionway. There was silencefor a moment, then a woman screamed, which signaled a general uproar ofcries and talk. Out of the confusion came quiet, assuring commands, andin time the little company had scattered. Chester and his father wentout together, along the hallway to Lucy's room. They looked mutely ateach other, not knowing what best to say. 

When they stopped at Lucy's door, Chester asked of his father if she wasup. 

"Yes, " he replied; "but she is not well. How shall we tell her the evilnews?"

"We must manage it somehow, for she must know--poor little girl!"

Between them, they managed to tell Lucy of the situation they were in. During the telling, she looked at one and then at the other in a dazedway, as if she could not believe there were any actual danger. Theyrepeated to her the assurances the captain had given. 

"Can we go on deck?" asked Lucy at last. "I want to get into the airwhere the sky is above me. "

They found a protected corner in the smoking-room where Lucy was contentto sit and look out of the open door to see what was going on about thedeck. Officers were inspecting the boats to see that all were ready incase of need. The work of the crew and the movements of the passengerswere accompanied by a certain nervousness. That the ship was slowlysettling could plainly be seen by all on board. 

Towards noon, the forward hatch was opened, and soon there was a rattleof chains and clang of machinery. Then up from the hold come bales, boxes, and barrels which were unceremoniously dropped into the sea. Thecargo must go. No help had yet been sighted, and if they were to remainafloat much longer, the ship would have to be lightened. "What a pity towaste so much, " said some, forgetting their own peril for the moment;but human life is worth more than ships or cargos. 

Very few cared to respond to the call for luncheon which the stewardsbravely kept up. The women who were too frightened to go below wereserved on deck, being urged to eat by solicitous friends. 

All afternoon the unloading went on. The ship moved slowly leaving atrain of floating merchandise in its wake. On the bridge the captain orone of the officers paced back and forth with glass in hand eager tocatch the call of the man in the crow's nest if he should catch sight ofother vessels. But none were seen. The afternoon closed; darkness cameon. Then the light burned again from the bridge and the fog-horn addedits din to the dreariness. 

Lucy kept to her position near the open deck. She would not go below, sowraps and pillows were brought her and she was made as comfortable aspossible. Chester remained with her most of the time, the father cameand went in nervous uncertainty. Captain Brown stopped long enough totell Chester that since most of the cargo was overboard, they wouldfloat a little longer, but they were to be ready at any time now toleave the ship. The boats were provisioned, it was explained, and thepassengers would be allowed to take with them only what could be carriedin a small bundle. Very likely, they would not need to desert the shipbefore morning, so they had better rest. 

But there was neither rest nor sleep that night. Chester tucked hisfather into a seat, placed a pillow for his head, then, seeing that Lucywas comfortable, sat down by her. She lifted the cover from hershoulders, and extended it to his. It dropped to his lap also, so thusthey sat in the dim glow of the electric light. Life belts were withineasy reach. 

It was well past midnight when the lights went out. Then the beat, beatof the engines grew less, became fainter, and then like a great heart, ceased. The ship was dead, and lifeless it must float at the mercy ofwind and wave. Then from below came the cries of men, and there werehurried steps and sharp commands on deck. Chester stepped out to seewhat it was. Captain Brown and the first officer stood by the entranceto the boiler rooms with gleaming revolvers in their hands, holding backan excited crowd of stokers. 

"Back, every one of you!" shouted the captain. "I shall kill the firstman who comes out until he is given permission. "

The mass of half-naked, grimy men slunk back with curses andprotestations. "The ship is sinking, " they cried, "let us get out. "

"Steady there now. " commanded Captain Brown. "There is plenty of time. We shall let you out, but it must be done orderly. One at a time now, and go get your clothes. Then stand by, ready for orders from theengineer. Do you agree?"

"Yes, yes. " They filed out one and two at a time, disappearing in thedarkness. Lanterns, prepared for this emergency, flashed here and there. Chester obtained one and placed it on the table of the smoking room. 

Presently the stewards could be heard running about the ship saying:"Ready for the boats, ready for the boats--Everybody on the boat deck!"The frightened passengers crowded up the steps in the half-darkness, thegleam of lanterns showing the way. Men were clearing the davits, andpresently the first boat was ready to be filled. 

Captain Brown was in command. He now looked out into the night, thendown to the rough sea, hesitating for a moment whether or not the timehad come. He did not wish to set these men and women afloat in smallboats on such a sea if he could possibly help it; but a settlingmovement of the ship, which perhaps he only felt, decided him. Hedetailed six sailors to the boat that was ready, then said:

"The women first--no crowding, please--stand back you!"--this to a manwhom panic had seized and who was crowding forward. 

Sharp, clear, came the orders, and everyone understood. Some husbandswere permitted to go with their hysterical wives. Presently, "That willdo, " ordered the captain. "There are plenty of boats, and there need beno overloading. Lower away. "

The first boat went down and was safely floated and rowed away from thesinking ship. The sailors were busy with the second boat. Captain Browncaught sight of Chester. "Where is Mr. Strong and Lucy. This is yourboat. Bring them along. "

"When do you go, Captain?"

"I? On the last boat. Hurry them along, my boy. "

Just as Chester turned, there came from the other side of the ship thenoise of shouting, rushing men. The commands of officers were drowned inthe confusion. The frantic stokers had got beyond the control of theofficer, and they rushed for the boats. Davits creaked, as the boatswere swung out. The crazed men pushed pell mell into them. One boat waslowered when only half full, and by the time Captain Brown reached thescene, the second boat was full, ready to be loosened. 

"Hold, " he commanded, as he held aloft his lantern and his revolverpointed directly at the man who held one of the ropes. 

"Out of there, every one of you--out I say--you first, " to a man justclimbing in. 

The stokers were not sailors--the riff-raff of many ports they were; andnow with them it was every man for himself. This feeling without properknowledge worked their undoing. The ropes were released, one before theother, and the loaded boat bumped down the side of the vessel, one enddropping before the other, spilling the screaming, cursing men into thewater. Down the boat slid until one end touched the waves, the rope endsflying loosely so that they could not be reached by those on the deck. Awave hit the boat as it hung and swamped it. 

"My God, " exclaimed the captain, "two of our boats are lost. There isonly one more left. "

Chester Lawrence stood still and watched by the lantern's light what wasgoing on. He pressed forward in time to hear Captain Brown's remarkabout the boats. Then together they crossed to the other side where thatlast boat hung ready to be filled. And there was need for hurry now. Slowly, but surely, the ship was sinking, and any moment might bring thefinal plunge. 

"Load the boat, " shouted the Captain, "women first. " The half dozenwomen found places. 

"Where's Lucy?" he enquired, looking around for Chester who haddisappeared. Lucy was not in the boat. The Captain was sure she had notgotten away with the first boat. Chester would bring her. 

"Now, fill in, " was the order. "Mr. Strong, where are you? Is Mr. Stronghere?" But he was not to be found. 

One by one the few remaining passengers took their places, then thecrew. 

"Is there room for more?" asked the Captain of the officer in the boat. 

"I fear not, sir, " came the reply. 

"Some of the men get under the seats, " ordered the Captain. "Now, thenin with you men. Don't go yet. There is yet a woman aboard. Hold fastthere, officer, until I find her. " He rushed down the stairs with hislantern, calling for Chester. "Where are you--for God's sake comequick!"

"Here I am sir, " replied Chester as he came nearly carrying his father. 

"Where is Lucy?"

"Lucy is not coming, sir. She does not need to--she has gonealready--she--"

"What? What is it? We need to hurry, my boy!"

"Lucy is dead!"

"Dead!--Bring Mr. Strong along. The boat is waiting. "

The boat hung by its davits, ready for lowering. 

"We are full, " said the officer, "and the deck is cleared. There is needfor hurry, sir. "

"There is, " replied Captain Brown. "Make room for two more. "

"We can't do it sir--not in this sea--we are overcrowded now. "

"You must--close up, lie down, make room. "

One of the officers offered to get out, then another did the same, butthe captain would not hear. "No, " he said, "you men have families. "

Still the boat hung there in the darkness. What could be done? The wavesrolled beneath, the wind moaned in the rigging. 

"We might risk one more, sir, " came from the boat. 

The captain looked at Chester, big, strong, full of youth, and then atthe slender, gray-haired man. What a pity, and yet he knew the youngerman would have to remain. That is the law of the sea. 

"I'll not go, " said the father. "You go, Chester. "

"No, no; we'll manage somehow; but you must take the chance. Here, helphim in. "

Captain Brown stood by with lifted lantern. He did not dictate which ofthe two should go. He had no need of that. He saw Chester lift the oldman in his arms, hold him for an instant close to him, kiss him andmurmur, "Goodby father, and God bless and preserve you"--then he handedhim over to outstretched hands in the boat. 

Captain Brown and Chester Lawrence stood by the railing and watched theboat lowered. Then when they knew it was safely riding the waves, theyturned to each other. 

"Where is your life-belt?" asked the Captain. "Get it, and put it on. "

"Is there a chance?"

"There is always a chance. Come. We shall go together, one way oranother--the way God wills. "

They walked along the slanting deck down to where Lucy lay on the couchin the smoking room. Chester did not notice the life-belt on the table, but he lifted a lantern to Lucy's face, kneeled by it, and kissed ittenderly. "Lucy, " he said, "my sweetheart, where are you? Don't you wantme to come too?" He stroked the still face, and smoothed back the hairas he was wont. "Aren't you afraid in that new world to which you havegone--aren't you as lonesome as--I am? O Lucy, Lucy!"

"Come put on this belt, " said the captain, touching him on the shoulder. 

"I'm coming with you, Lucy, " continued the young man. "Nothing shallpart us--as I have told you--we two, --O, my God, what can I do?"

The captain led Chester away from the dead, out to the open deck, andbuckled around him a life-belt. "Wait here" said the officer. "There isa chance--I'm going to see. I'll be back in a minute. "

Chester was alone, and in those few minutes the wonderful panorama oflife passed before him. He lived in periods, each period ending withLucy Strong. His boyhood, and his awakening to the world abouthim--then Lucy; his schooldays, with boys and girls--out from them cameLucy; his early manhood, his forming ideals--completed in Lucy; hisexperiences in the West, and at Piney Ridge Cottage, and then came, notJulia, but Lucy; then the gospel with its new light and assurance ofsalvation; and this coupled with Lucy, her faith and love, burned as asweet incense in the soul of Chester Lawrence. Fear left him now. Heheard sounds as if they were songs from distant angel-choirs. Words ofcomfort and strength were whispered to his heart: "Though I walk throughthe valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou artnear me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. . . . " Eternity! Why, animmortal soul is always in eternity; and God is always at hand in lifeor in death. . . . Death! what is it but the passing to the other side of acurtain, where our loved ones are waiting to meet and greet us!

Chester stepped back to Lucy. It was dark where she lay, but he passedhis hand over her form to her face, touching tenderly her cheek andclosed eyes. The flesh was not yet cold, but he felt that the soul whomhe had come to know as Lucy Strong was not there. 

Captain Brown called through the darkness. Chester groped into the openagain. Was that the captain's figure on the bridge, looming blackagainst the faint light in the eastern sky? If it was, Chester was in nocondition to know, for just then there came a great sinking. A roar ofwaters sounded in his ears, there was a struggle, a moment of agony, and then the darkness of oblivion. 

When he awoke again, he had passed over the storm-whipped bar into stillwaters. There Lucy met him, and together they sailed, guided by theunerring Light of God into the Harbor of Eternal Peace and Rest. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Thomas Strong was a guest at Piney Ridge Cottage. It had taken him afull year to get over the effects of that dreadful sea disaster whereina son, a daughter, and a dear friend had been lost, and to finally makehis way westward to the people to whom both son and daughter hadbelonged. He had arrived during apple-blossom time, and thewhite-haired, sad-faced man who seemed to have had all mortality burnedfrom him by fiery trials, was kindly received by Mr. Elston, hisdaughter Julia and her husband, Bishop Glen Curtis. These listened tohis strange story, and were profoundly moved by its tragic ending. Theyurged him to remain with them, Julia giving him the room on the atticfloor which previously was hers. He was grateful for all thesekindnesses, saying he would be pleased to visit with them for a time. 

Out under the apple trees in the growing orchard Hugh Elston made fortheir guest a seat, where during the day he would sit as one alone, listening and waiting here in this spot away from the noise and trafficof the world for a final message which the God of the Universe mightsend him. As far as his strength would allow, he liked to walk along thecountry roads, which now extended for many miles from Piney Ridge, andchat with the neighbors about the country and its prospects. He alsomade some minor excursions up the hillsides, but in this direction hecould not go far. Frequently he stopped to rest by the enclosed graves, where he sat on the grass, and with hands on cane, looked wonderingly atthe two graves, side by side. 

But whispered messages from out the blue or storms of heaven did notcome to this man. Neither were there angels sent to tell him what to do;but the Lord had one more thing--simple indeed--to bear upon thereluctant heart of Thomas Strong. 

In the little attic room which Julia had turned over to her guest weremany books, papers, and magazines. She had told him that everything inthe room was at his service, and so the visitor made good use of thekind offer. One day he found a small book which had the name AnnaLawrence--Chester's mother--written on the fly-leaf. Curiously turningover the pages of the volume, which was simply a school book of the kindhe remembered in his youth, he found between the leaves an old letter. He unfolded the deeply creased sheets, looked at the strangehandwriting, saw that it was dated thirty years ago, and addressed to"Miss Anna Lawrence" and signed by a name unknown to him. There could noharm come from reading this message from the past, so he drew his chairup to the window, and read:

"_Dear Friend Anna_:

"It is three months now since I left home for this mission, and nothaving heard anything yet from you, I thought a few lines from me mighthelp you get started in the letter-writing direction. I am enjoying mymission very much, which perhaps you cannot understand, but it is true, nevertheless. I came to this place yesterday and have already deliveredsome tracts. Most of the people are against us, specially is this thecase with preachers. They get after us roughly. My companion isn't asold as I am, and goodness knows, I'm young and green enough; but we'reboth studying hard, and the Lord is with us, which, after all, is ourchief concern. 

"I hope you are getting along at school. Do you remember the fun we hadlast vacation? I heard that our friend Sue is about to be married, but Isuppose you know all about that. 

"But I must tell you about something that happened to us before cominghere. It was in a place not far from Chicago, and my companion and Iwere tracting as usual. I took one side of the street and he took theother. Well, along about noon when it was time we should quit, mycompanion didn't make his appearance. I waited a long time, then crossedthe street to look for him. The weather was warm and people were mostlyout of doors in the shade. I heard what sounded like a big discussion ona porch behind some vines. I went up, and sure enough, there was mycompanion and another young fellow having it out in great shape. Theyoung man sat in his shirt sleeves on a table, and the way he was givingit to that poor friend of mine was a caution. I learned that the youngfellow was studying for the ministry, and because of that, he consideredhimself just the person to give it good and hard to a 'Mormon'missionary. 

"Well, the fellow sat there on the table, his legs swinging as if hedidn't care a--rap. There was a Bible and some other books on the table, but they had got beyond the use of books. The young fellow ridiculed theProphet, poked fun at his revelations, and said the 'Mormons' were a badlot altogether. Said they deserved to be driven from decent society intothe desert as they had been. He kept it up like that, and then he saidsomething odd. 'I wouldn't have your religion at any price, ' he said. 'Get out with you. '

"My companion sat there, not saying a word. I saw the tears come intohis eyes. He wiped them away hurriedly. Then his face became pale, andit seemed to me that a light actually shone from it. As I told you, heis just a boy, and as I looked on him then, I thought of the boyprophet, and what my father has told me so often about him. Well, whenthe fellow got through with his abuse, and jumped from the table as ifwe were dismissed, my companion arose and in a voice wonderfully gentleyet vibrant with power, said:

"'Yes, we will go, but not before I tell you this: You know not what yousay, therefore, you are forgiven, as far as I am concerned. My parentswere driven from this state. All they had was destroyed by mobs. Mymother died on the plains and her body lies there to this day. All thatmortal man can suffer and live my people have suffered, and all for thesake of the truth, the gospel that I have brought to you this day, andwhich you so scornfully reject. And now I tell you in the name of theLord, some day you will receive this gospel--but not until you have paidfor it, and paid for it dearly. Like the merchantman in the parable, _all that you have_ will you pay for this Pearl of Great Price! Goodday, sir. '

"We both left him standing somewhat dazed, but I tell you--"

The letter dropped to Thomas Strong's knee, as he looked up and out atthe closing day. He arose, went to the glass door which opened on to thelittle porch, stepped out into the air that he might breathe easier. What he saw was not Old Thunder Mountain, or the wide extent of theFlat, dim now in the twilight, but a vine-enclosed porch and the pale, peculiar face of a boy telling him the words he had just read. * * * *There had been other boy prophets besides the first great one; and yes, oh Great God, one old, broken man had paid the price. 

The vines on the upper porch of Piney Ridge Cottage now also formed acover, and in their shadow Thomas Strong kneeled and prayed as he hadnever prayed before. 

An hour later, Julia, wondering what their guest was doing in his roomso long without a light, called to him softly at the foot of the stairs. 

"Yes, " he replied, as if he did not realize for the moment who wascalling, "I'm coming--I'm coming now. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

The first Sunday in the month was Fast Day at Piney Ridge the same as inall wards of the Church. The Bishop had some visiting to do that morningso he did not get to Sunday School; but he returned about eleven o'clockand found the horses hitched to the white-top buggy ready to take allthe household to meeting. 

"Are we all ready?" he asked as he came into the house. 

"Just about, " replied his wife who was putting the finishing touches tothe baby's bonnet. "Here, hold him. " She placed the baby in Glen's arms. The father somewhat awkwardly tossed him up and down. 

"Now be careful, " admonished the mother, "don't muss his clothes up likethat. Today is his first public appearance, you know. "

"Your coming out, eh?" he asked of the baby. "Well, we'll have to begood, won't we. "

This was in the front room. Thomas Strong sat, hat in hand, ready, whilehe smiled at the bear-like antics of the happy father with his firstbaby. Then when the mother came in with hat on, the old man aroseslowly, went to the organ and looked at a photograph of ChesterLawrence, which had recently been framed and now held the place of honoron the organ. The Bishop, seeing the movement, lifted the baby to thepicture. 

"I believe there _is_ a resemblance, " he remarked. The old man onlysmiled. 

Hugh Elston now drove up to the door. The young mother climbed into thefront seat, and then was given the baby. Grandpa Elston took a back seatby Thomas Strong, while the Bishop sat by his wife to drive. Then theywere off. 

"Did I tell you, " said Mr. Strong to his companion, "that I got a letterfrom my brother last evening?"

"No; you did not. "

"Well, he's been recently to London and visiting with Elder Malby. Itseems he can't keep away from that man, and I must say Elder Malby is awonder. Such a spirit he has with him--"

"The missionary spirit, Brother Strong--the spirit of the Lord. "

"Yes, yes, " mused the man--"strange--and he but a hard-working farmer--Iwouldn't be surprised if Brother Gilbert came to America and out westhere. He intimated as much in his letter. Poor brother, he also hassuffered. "

"If he comes, give him our invitation to visit with us. "

"Thank you, that I shall. "

"Perhaps he will accompany Elder Malby when he is released. "

"Invite them both, " said the other. "We shall all like to see them verymuch. "

There was a brief silence, as the horses trotted along. Thomas Strong'sgaze roved across the Flat to the mountains, then rested again on hiscompanion. Presently, he said:

"Brother Elston, the other day you were speaking of vicarious work forthe dead, 'temple work' you called it. I understand the doctrine ofbaptism for the dead, but some other things are not quite plain--forinstance, having the dead married, made husband and wife, which theywould have been had they lived and had the chance--well, youunderstand. "

Yes; Hugh Elston understood, and made his explanations to his companion, who listened attentively and exclaimed at its close:

"I am so glad--for Chester's and Lucy's sake--so glad!"

In good time they arrived at the meeting house. The Bishop busiedhimself with the business before him. The good people of the ward camein, exchanged the usual greetings, then found seats. There were flowerson the sacrament table as usual, and the meeting house looked sweet andclean--a fit place in which to worship the Lord. 

The opening hymn in which the congregation joined was:

 "God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. "

At the close of the song, Thomas Strong nodded his head and whispered, "Amen. "

Then after prayer and the sacrament, the Bishop announced, "All motherswho have babies to be blessed will please bring them forward, and allwho were baptized yesterday will kindly take their places on the frontseat. "

Julia, with rosy face, bore her baby to the front, followed by anothermother with less timidity. A little girl tip-toed along the aisle, and aboy, "just turned eight" trod heavily forward. Then Thomas Strong alsoarose, and silently took his place on the front seat alongside themothers with the babies and the children. 

The sun shone through the uncurtained window and lay as a broad strip oflight along the front seat. The little boy was nervously twitching hisfeet, the little girl's hands were folded serenely, the babies cooed. The white-haired man sat with the children, now one with them and ofthem in very deed. His face was as a child's, as was indeed his heart. The meeting was still, silenced by the strange, solemn occasion. Thenthe Bishop, assisted by his counselors and Patriarch Hugh Elston laidtheir hands on the three who had been baptized in water for theremission of sins and now bestowed on them the Holy Ghost. Then theofficiating Elders came to the mothers. 

"Brother Elston, " said the Bishop, "bless the baby. "

Hugh Elston took Julia's baby into his arms, where he lay cooing intothe men's faces as they gathered around. The Patriarch, in slow, carefully chosen words, gave the babe its name and a blessing:

"Chester Lawrence--for this is the name by which you shall be knownamong the children of men--"

There was a moment's pause in the blessing. Thomas Strong glanced up tothe men, then looked at Julia in surprise. 

"Oh, " said he softly, "my boy's name shall live--Thank God. "

THE END.