ht 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?"