All Monday forenoon, Chester sat on deck reading a book which he had
obtained from the ship's library. It was a most interesting story, and
yet the world of gray-green water and changing clouds drew his attention
from the printed page. He was beginning to realize what the fascination
for the sea was which took hold of men. It would have been difficult for
him to analyze or explain this feeling, but it was there; and it seemed
to him that he would have been content to live out his life on that
boundless ocean which presented a symbol of eternity continually before
his eyes.
"Good morning."
Chester started, then turned. It was Lucy's father who found a chair and
drew 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 to
the distance. "Our universe is now but water and air, and we are but
specks floating between the two layers."
"But we know that ocean and air are not all. We know there are plains
and mountains, forests and growing fields; so after all our universe
must include not only all we can see with our eyes, but all that comes
within view of our comprehension. Do you know," resumed Chester after a
pause, "I have come to this conclusion, that our universe is limited
only within the bounds of our faith. As we believe, and strive to
convert that belief into a living faith, so shall we know and realize."
The preacher looked keenly at the "Mormon," as if he would see the
fountain 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 will
listen"--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 in
influence and knowledge and power, as you so beautifully put it
yesterday at the services, is everywhere in the universe. There is no
place in heaven or hell, or in the uttermost bounds of space but God is
there. As you also stated, we may not fully understand this infinite
magnificence of God, but this has been done to help us: the Father has
revealed Himself to us through his Son. The Son we can comprehend, for
He was one of us. We learn from scripture that this Son had all power
both in heaven and earth given him; that He was, in fact, 'heir of all
things.' Now, when that fact is fixed in my mind, I connect this other
with it, that we, God's children also, are joint heirs with Christ; and
in 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 may
follow in the footsteps of God, and where He has gone, or shall go, we
may go. Think of it--no, we can't. Only for an instant can our minds
dwell 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 had
evidently also dropped to the "common level;" or perhaps he had not
soared with his companion.
"This? O, this is Kipling's 'Plain Tales from the Hills.' I like
Kipling, but I wish he hadn't written some very untruthful things about
my people."
"Has he?"
"Yes. It seems he made a flying visit through Salt Lake City, and took
for gospel truth the lurid stories hack drivers tell to tourists so that
they may get their money's worth."
"Well, I don't know;--but that brings me to the point of my errand. I
sought you out especially today to ask you not to talk religion to my
daughter. I understand she and you had a discussion on 'Mormonism' last
evening, and she slept very little all night as a result."
"You are mistaken, sir; I said nothing to her about 'Mormonism.' She
told me a little about--"
"Well, whatever it was, she was and is still ill over it. Let me tell
you,--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 doctors
said; and that's the main reason for this trip. She has always been
interested in religious questions, which I naturally encouraged her in;
but when she got mixed up somewhat with the 'Mormons,' that was quite
another matter."
"Why, may I ask?"
"Well, it excited her. It brought her in contact with undesirable
people, 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 anything
that would unfavorably affect your daughter."
"I knew you would look at the matter sensibly. Perhaps it would be for
the best if you did not meet her oftener than possible. I know it is
difficult 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 have
met 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 I
say again plainly, that you may understand, I regard your daughter
highly."
"Young man, I thank you for your open manner and speech, but I beseech
of you not to encourage any deeper feeling towards my daughter. She can
never marry. She lives, as it were, on the brink of the grave. Now, I
have been plain also with you."
"I appreciate it, sir; believe me; I am profoundly sorry for her and for
you; but, let me say this, seeing we are speaking plainly, if I loved
your daughter, and we all knew she would die tomorrow, or next month,
that knowledge would make only this difference, that my love would
become all the holier. If she returned that love, we would be happy in
knowing that in the life beyond we would go on and bring that love to a
perfect consummation."
The minister looked closely again at the young man. Then, giving voice
to his thoughts, asked: "Have you studied for the ministry? Are you now
a 'Mormon' missionary?"
"I am not an authorized 'Mormon' missionary. My studying has been no
more than is expected of every 'Mormon.' Every member of our Church is
supposed to be able to give a reason for the hope that is within
him,--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 the
people; and they are a good people, I tell you, sir. I know--"
"Yes, well, Mr.----, Lucy did tell me your name, but I have forgotten
it."
"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 lips
or the pallor of his face. What had he said or done to agitate the man
so 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 just
something 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 had
arisen--"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 it
was when I went out west and met the 'Mormons' that things happened to
me."
"Yes, yes."
"I don't mean that I had any adventures or narrow escapes in a physical
way. I lived in the mountains as a miner for a time, but there are no
wild animals or Indians there now, so my adventures were those of the
spirit, if I may use that expression,--and of the heart. Isn't that your
daughter coming this way?"
Sure enough, Lucy had found them, and came up to them beaming. Chester
failed to see in her any symptoms for the worse, as her father had
indicated. In fact, there certainly was a spring to her step which he
had not seen before.
"Well, I've found you at last, you run-away papa. Good morning," she
nodded to Chester, who returned the greeting. "Don't you know, papa, you
have 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 believe
someone 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 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.