A week of comparative quiet brought little change for the better to
Lucy, so it was decided that they would by easy stages, get back to
London, thence to Cork and Kildare Villa. Lucy kept Chester informed of
their doings, saying as little as possible about her health. As she did
not wish to deprive him of the full enjoyment of his visit to
Switzerland, she did not send him word of their intentions, until they
were ready to leave. They would go by way of Calais and Dover, the
short-water route, she wrote him.
When Chester received this information he hastily cut short his sight
seeing, and started for London by way of Rotterdam. The long ride alone
was somewhat tiresome, and he was glad to meet again some of the elders
in the land of canals and windmills.
Just before the train rolled into Rotterdam, Chester thought of Glen
Curtis. It came to him as a distinct shock when he realized that he had
entirely forgotten to enquire about Glen on his former visit. "Well,"
said he to himself, "so easily do our interests change from one person
to another." But now he must find his old friend. He could freely talk
to him now even about Julia Elston.
Chester learned from the elder in charge at the office, that Elder
Curtis was released to return home in a few days. He would be in
Rotterdam shortly. When? In a few days. But Chester could not wait that
long, so he took train to the city where Glen was laboring, and found
him making his farewell rounds.
"Well of all things," exclaimed the elder, as Chester took him firmly by
the hand.
"I'm the last person on earth you expected to see here in Dutchland, I
suppose?"
"You certainly are. And what are you doing here?"
Chester told him as they walked arm in arm along the quiet streets of
the 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 when
you get home, you can tell Julia all about me and mine. It will please
her, I am sure. By the way, how is it between Julia and you? I haven't
heard lately."
"All right," said Glen.
"You're a lucky boy," declared Chester, "to get such a girl. There's
just _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. Glen
could 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, and
there was a high sea which nearly upset him. He got to London too late
in the evening to call on the Strong's, but next morning he was out
early.
Lucy met him in the hall with a cry of delight.
"You've come," she whispered as he pressed her close. "Oh, I thought you
never 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 that
now--come in. Papa and uncle will be glad to see you. Do you know," she
added with evident pleasure, "papa has been _nearly_ as anxious about
you as I have,--has continually asked me about you,--and I had to let
him read your lovely long letter."
"You did? Well, it's all right. There's no harm done, I'm sure. He might
as well know everything."
"Oh, he knows a lot already."
They went into the house, and found seats until the others should
appear.
"Your face shows signs of suffering, Lucy; but otherwise you look quite
well."
"That's just it with my trouble. I usually deceive my looks; but I feel
better already; and now, let me tell you something else: Father has
nearly consented to my being baptized!"
"Lucy!"
"It's true. I've been pleading with him--and preaching to him too; and
the other day he said he would think about it. That's a concession, for
he 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's
been so different since you have been with us. He hasn't been so angry
with me when I talked of 'Mormonism.' He has let me read my books
without any remonstrance. And do you know, even Uncle Gilbert is
affected. He and papa must have had some profound discussions about us
and our religion for he has asked me to lend him some books. He'll no
doubt 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 young
man, 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 them
in doors, which was no hardship, as the three seemed to have so much to
talk about. After lunch, the fog changed its intentions, lifted,
disappeared and let the sun have full sway. To be sure, some smoke still
lingered, but out where the Strongs were staying it only mellowed the
distances.
That afternoon it occured to Chester that the relationship now existing
between 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 that
afternoon, and without delay, he broached the subject so near his heart.
The minister listened quietly to the young man plead his case, not
interrupting until he had finished. They seated themselves on a bench by
the grass. The father looked down at the figures he was drawing with his
cane on the ground and mused for a moment. Then he said:
"Yes; I have given my consent, by my actions, at least. I have no
objection to you. I like you very much. Lucy does too, and fathers can't
very well stop such things. But there still remains the fact that Lucy
is not well. There is no telling how long she can live, and yet I have
heard of cases like hers where marriage has been a great benefit."
"I thank you for your kind words," said Chester. "Let me assure you I
shall be controlled by your judgement as to marriage. We are neither of
us ready for that. Of course, I sincerely hope she will get stronger. I
think she will; but meantime you have no objection to my loving her, and
doing all for her that my love can do?"
"Certainly not, my boy, certainly not." The father placed his hand on
the young man's shoulder as he said it. Chester noted the faint tremor
in 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 us
right 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 I
not, 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 need
you. 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. I
have drifted about the world. Let me now anchor with you. I feel as
though I ought to do that--"
The man clung closer to Chester, who, feeling a thrill of dear
companionship, continued:
"Let me be a son to you always, and a sister to Lucy, until it can be
something more."
"Yes, yes, my boy!"
Others were out basking in the warm sun that afternoon. Those that
walked leisurely and took notice of events about them, were impressed by
the 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, herself
undiscovered. She paused, examined the flower beds, and became
interested in the swans in the lake. Her face beamed with happiness when
she saw them, for their shoulders were close together and Chester had
her father's hands clasped firmly in his own. She tiptoed up behind them
on 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 of
them.
Then they all laughed so merrily, that the infection reached a ragged
urchin playing on the gravel-path near by.
"My dear," said the father. "Chester has promised to stay with us, and
be--"
"Your man--about--the--house," finished Chester.
"Which we certainly need," agreed Lucy. "Two people, Strong by name, but
mighty weak by nature, as my old nurse used to say, require some such a
man. 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 ladies
drove by. The little boy had to leave his gravel castle while the wheels
of the carriage crushed it to the level. The boy looked at the ruins a
moment, then at the departing vehicle. Then he started his building anew
safely 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 so
happy to-day. You can make my joy complete by granting me one other
thing."
"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 the
matter; but I can't help it. Something within me urges me on. I can't
get away from the testimony which I have, any more than I can get away
from 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 to
live in the light,--the beautiful gospel light always."
Chester listened in pleased wonder to Lucy's pleadings. He added nothing
as she seemed able to say all that was necessary. In time the father's
face 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. Say
yes 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; but
I don't want to. I want your blessing instead of your disapproval on
such 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 thinking
clearly and logically, so much as he was fighting over the eternal
warfare of conviction against policy. He also knew. He had received more
of a testimony than he ever admitted, even to himself. If he should do
as his innermost conscience told him, he also would join Lucy in baptism
of water for the remission of sins; but that thought he pushed from
him. He, an old man in the ministry, to now change his faith--to cut
himself off from his life's work--no, that would never do. It was
different with Lucy, quite another thing. She had set her heart on it
and on Chester, and it would be best for her--yes, it would be best for
her.
When Chester was saying good-night to Lucy that evening, the father came
out into the hall to them.
"Chester," said he, "tell Elder Malby I should like to see him to
morrow. 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 about
him.
"There, there now, behave--say good-night to Chester."
But she clung to him and kissed him through her tears of joy. Then she
went 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 her
father's arm and led him in.