s hand for hers and hold it
for a moment. Poor, dear father, she thought, as she stroked his hair
softly. What could Chester mean to leave his father, even for a few
days? He ought to be here.... She could not understand. Was it all just
an excuse to get away from them? to get away from this newly-found
father and sister? She would not believe that of Chester. That couldn't
be true, and yet, and yet--

She turned lower the light, went to the window, and looked out on the
river. A crescent moon hung above the mist. The water lay still as if
asleep, only broken now and then by some passing craft. The breeze
played in the trees near the window and the perfumes of the rich flower
beds were wafted to her. The girl stood by the window a long time as if
she 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 acted
wisely.

The father lay as if sleeping, so she continued to look out at the moon
and the water. Her heart burned, but out of it came a prayer. Then she
quietly kneeled by the window sill, and still looking out into the night
she poured out the burden of her heart to the Father whose power to
bless 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 were
deep lines traced by twenty years on the sea. Ten years on the bridge
basking in the sun, facing storm and danger had told their tale. He was
in the employ of a great navigation company whose ships went to the ends
of 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 port
and on any sea. Three years ago wife and child had taken passage over
the eternal sea. Now he came back only occasionally, between trips. His
housekeeper always kept the house as nearly as possible like it was when
wife and child were there.

"I have a week, perhaps ten days ashore," explained Captain Brown next
morning at the breakfast table, "and I was just wondering what I could
do 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 to
worry any longer about business. Aren't we making you good money? Oh, I
see! Aunt Sarah; well, we'll send for her. Your father can't possibly be
moved, can he, Miss Lucy?"

"He's very comfortable here," replied Lucy.

"To be sure