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

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

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

To those who can possess their souls in peace, life on ship-board in pleasant weather is restful, and may be thoroughly enjoyed. A little world is here compactly put together, and human nature may be studied at close range. From the elegant apartments of the saloon to the ill-smelling quarters of the steerage, there is variety enough.

Representatives are here from nearly "every nation under heaven:" every creed, every color; every grade of intelligence and worldly position, from the prince who occupies exclusively the finest suite of rooms, to the begrimed half-naked stoker in the furnace room in the depths of the vessel; every occupation; every disposition. And yet, even in this compact city in a shell of steel, one may seclude himself from his fellows and commune solely with his own thoughts or his books.

The three "Mormon" elders, reticent and quiet, had made few acquaintances. The Rev. Mr. Strong and his daughter, not being very well, had not been active in the social proceedings of the ship's company.

Chester Lawrence had formed an acquaintance which seemed to him to fill all requirements, so that he cared not whether he learned to know any more of his fellow travelers. And now further association with this pleasant acquaintance must stop. Well, once again he said to himself, he would be glad at sight of Liverpool, and again some deeply hidden voice protested.

Chester tried to keep his word with Mr. Strong. He made no efforts to see 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 deck during those beautiful days, and twice on Tuesday Lucy and Chester and the 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 in his conduct towards her. The pained expression on the girl's face when she realized this change, went to Chester's heart and he could have cried out in explanation.

That evening Lucy found Chester in a corner of the library pretending to read. There was no escape for him as she approached. What a sweet creature 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 book on the table. He would be plain and open with this girl. In the end nothing is gained by mystery and silence. He told her plainly what had taken place between himself and her father. She listened quietly, the tears welling in her eyes as he progressed. Then for a moment she hid her face in her hands while she cried softly.

"I shall not ask you to break your promise," she said at last, "but I did so want to learn more of the gospel--the true restored gospel. It isn't true that a discussion of these things affects me unfavorably. I am 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 should not 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 better than 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 to listen in silence. Good night."

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

Their conversation began with the common ship-board topics. Then the minister asked his companion more about himself and his life. It seemed to Chester that he purposely led up to his personal affairs, and he wondered why. There were some parts of his history that he did not desire to talk about. What did this man wish to know?

"How long did you live in Utah?" asked the minister, after receiving little 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 of opportunity."

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

"I knew a man once by the name of Lawrence," said the minister. "I wonder 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 grown man. My mother had lived there many years before, but had left. She lived in Chicago the latter part of her life; but she made a trip to Utah when she was old and feeble,--and she died there. * * * * Her grave is there now."

The minister now was silent. His lips twitched again. Chester once more wondered why such things should affect him. The man's arm clung to Chester firmly as if he wished support; and Chester's heart warmed to him. Was he not Lucy's father? Should he not know all he desired to know about 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 mother and his child the way he did. No; much as I have longed to know a father's love and care, I cannot but despise a man who becomes a father, then shirks from the responsibility which follows--who leaves the burden and the disgrace which follow parenthood outside the marriage relation to the poor woman alone. Such baseness, such cowardice, such despicable littleness 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 dishonorable beginning. This highly cultured Christian minister was no doubt shocked into silence by his outburst of confidence. But he must know also that this occurred among a Christian community, long before either of the parties concerned knew of or were connected with the "Mormons." So Chester explained this to the man at his side, who sat as if deaf to what was being said. His gaze was fixed far out to sea. His lips did not now 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 and rest."

"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 go down with me, Lucy?"

The daughter took his arm and was about to lead him away. He stopped and turned 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 to sea 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 forward engaged in an earnest discussion. Just as Chester Lawrence came up and paused to listen, for it seemed to be a public, free-for-all affair, he noticed that Elder Malby was talking, directing his remarks to a young man in the group.

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

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