The next morning the sky was clear and the sea was much smoother. The
sun shone bright and warm; more people came on deck, rejoicing that they
could live in the vigor of the open rather than in their stuffy state
rooms. The two seasick elders thought it wiser to remain quietly in
their berths for another day, so Chester and Elder Malby had the day to
themselves. As the accident of the night before became known to the
passengers, it was the topic of conversation for some time.
That afternoon Chester and his companion found a cosy corner on deck
away from the cigar smoke, and had a long heart to heart talk. The fact
of the matter was that the young man found comfort in the society of his
older brother. For the first time in nearly two years Chester could pour
out 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 about
myself. 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 of
Chicago, and lived in and near that city most of my life. My mother's
name 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 the
thoughts of my earthly origin and my childhood days, but I have gotten
over that. I have learned to face the world and all the truth it has for
me.
"When I was but a child, my mother married Hugh Elston. Shortly after,
they both heard the gospel preached by a 'Mormon' elder, and they
accepted it. I had been placed in the care of some of my relatives, and
when my mother now wished to take me, they would not give me up. They
were, 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 a
fairly good education, and while yet a young man, was conducting a
successful business.
"I had nearly forgotten that I had a parent at all, when one day, my
mother, 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 she
had been abused among the 'terrible Mormons.' After a time I took a trip
out to Utah to see about it, meaning to find this Mr. Elston and compel
him to do the right thing for my mother. Well, I went, I saw, and was
conquered. Mr. Elston was a widower living in a spot of green called
Piney Ridge Cottage amid the sage-brush desert,--living there alone with
his 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. He
soon found out who I was and invited me to his home. Julia was mistress
there. In the midst of the desert, these two had created a beautiful
home. I went to their Sunday School and their meetings. I read Mormon
books. 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 Julia
mixed up with the finding of it. But Julia helped. She was a living
example of what 'Mormonism' can do for a person, and when I looked at
her, learned her thoughts through her words, and saw her life by her
every-day deeds, I said to myself, 'A system of religion that produces
such a soul, cannot be bad.' Yes; she was a wonderful help; but I repeat
that had the truth come to me by other means and other ways, I believe I
should 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 Cottage
and its influence. I pondered and prayed. I found the elders there and
was baptized. Then I went to Salt Lake City, where Julia had gone to
attend school while her father was away on a mission to England."
Chester paused, looking out on the sea. "You don't blame me for falling
in 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 a
neighbor to her. He also went on a mission, and then I believe Julia
discovered that she thought more of Glen Curtis than of me. I do not now
blame Julia for that. She told me plainly her feelings. I persisted for
a time, but in vain--then I went away, and have never been to Utah
since."
"And that's the end of your story?"
"Oh, no; while I was roaming aimlessly about the country trying to mend
a broken heart, mother, becoming uneasy about me, and thinking I was yet
in Utah, journeyed out west to find me. The team on the stage-coach
which 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 a
dug-way, and mother was mortally hurt. She died under Julia's care, and
now lies in Mr. Elston's private graveyard near Piney Ridge Cottage
beside Mr. Elston's other wife. Let us walk a little."
The older man linked his arm into Chester's as they paced the long reach
of the promenade deck. They walked for a few minutes, then sat down
again.
"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 with
Julia. I even went so far as to play devilishly near to sin, but thank
the Lord, I came to my senses before I was overcome, and I escaped that
horror. Oh, but I was storm-tossed for a while--I thought of it
yesterday when we had the rough sea--but in time I came out into the
calm again, just as we are coming today on this voyage. But not until I
had said more than once 'not my will, but thine, O Lord, be done,' and
said it from my heart, did I get peace. Then I began to see that the
girl had come into my life, not to be my wife, but to turn my life into
new channels. I, with the rest of the world of which I was a part, had
no definite views or high ideals of life, death, 'and that vast
forever;' and something was needed to change my easy-going course. When
I realized that Julia Elston had been the instrument of the Lord in
doing that, I had to put away resentment and acknowledge the hand of God
in it. I read in the parables of our Lord that a certain merchantman had
to sell all he had in order to get the purchase money to buy the Pearl
of 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 been
asked to pay a trifle--no it was not a trifle; but I have paid, and hope
to 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 look
on your experiences in the right light. To get the woman one thinks he
ought to get, is, after all, not the whole of life. There are other
blessings. To have one's life changed from darkness into light; to have
one's journey turned from a downward course to one of eternal
exaltation; to obtain a knowledge of the plan of salvation,--these are
important. 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 all
is right. Sometime, somewhere, every man and every woman will come to
his 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 did
not yield to my entreaties, and marry me out of pity. Think how I would
have felt when the realization of that had come to me. * * * * I found
this expression of Stevenson the other day, purporting to be a test of a
man's fortitude and delicacy: 'To renounce where that shall be
necessary, and not to be embittered.' Thank the Lord, I am not
embittered. Some time ago I chose this declaration of Paul for my motto:
'But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and
reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the
mark 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 young
man. The smile on the lips added only beauty to the strength of the
face. He arose, shook himself as if to get rid of all past
unpleasantness and weakness, and faced the east as though he were
meeting the world with new power. Then the smile changed to a merry
laugh 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 sea
lay glinting like a vast jewel under the slant of the afternoon sun. It
was a day of unflecked beauty. The decks were gay with people, some
walking, some leaning idly on the rail, some sitting with books in their
hands. A few were reading, but most sat with finger in closed book. Why
bother to read _about_ life when it could be seen so full and
interesting all around.
A day on ship-board is longer than one on shore, and provision must be
made to pass it pleasantly. If the weather is fair, this is quite a
problem. Of course, there are the meals in the well-appointed dining
saloon. They break pleasantly into the long monotony. Then there are the
deck games; the watching for "whales" and passing vessels; the looking
at the spinning log in the foaming water at the stern; the marking of
the chart, which indicates the distance traversed during the twenty-four
hours; the visit to the steerage and the "stoke hole," or boiler room in
the depths of the ship; and last, but not least, the getting acquainted
with one's fellow passengers. "Steamer friendships" are easily made, and
in most cases, soon forgotten. The little world of people speeding
across the deep from shore to shore, is bound together closely for a few
days, and then, its inhabitants scatter.
Chester Lawrence was enjoying every hour of the voyage. On that day
practically all sea-sickness had gone. The vacant places at the tables
were being filled and the company looked around at each other with
pleasant contentment. The steamship company no longer saved on the
provisions. The chatty old gentleman at Chester's right was back again
after a short absence, and the power of speech had come to the demure
lady on his left, with the return of her appetite.
Two places opposite Chester were still vacant at the table. That day as
the crowd hastily answered the dinner gong, Chester, being a little
tardy, encountered an elderly man and what appeared to be his daughter
making their way slowly down the companionway towards the dining room.
Chester saw at a glance that neither of them was strong, but both tried
to appear able and were bound to help each other. He smiled at their
well-meaning endeavors, then without asking leave, took the man's free
arm and helped him down the steps, saying,
"You haven't quite got your sea-legs yet--Now then, steady, and we'll
soon be there. Get a good dinner, and that will help."
The steward showed them to the two seats opposite Chester which had been
vacant so long.
"Thank you very much," said the girl to Chester, with a smile, when the
elderly man was well seated. Chester bowed without replying, then went
around the table to his own seat.
Somehow that gracious little smile had made Chester's heart flutter for
an instant. As he realized it, he said to himself, "What's the matter
with me? Am I getting foolish? It was, certainly a sweet smile, and the
thanks were gracious, too; but what of it?" The first courses were being
served. She was sitting opposite him, just a few feet away. He might
take a good look at the girl to see if there was anything uncommon about
her. He looked down the table, glancing just for an instant opposite.
No; there was nothing striking, or to be disturbed about. The girl was
still solicitous over her companion, meanwhile eating a little herself.
"I musn't be rude, thought Chester, and then looked again across the
table. The man was past middle age. His face was clean shaven, and he
was dressed in the garb of a minister. He was a preacher, then. The girl
had evidently suffered much from sea-sickness, because her face was pale
and 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_ the
matter! Chester Lawrence, attend to your chicken."
The minister and his daughter did not remain for the dessert. As they
arose, 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 we
try the deck for a while?"
"Yes; it will do us both good to get into the air. Run along into your
room for a wrap."
Chester was tempted to leave his dinner to help them again; but he
resisted the temptation. They walked quite firmly now, and as they
entered the passageway, the girl glancing back into the room, met
Chester's eyes and smiled once more. Again Chester's heart fluttered. It
would have been a cold, hardened heart indeed not to have responded to
such an appeal.