Chester, still lingered.

"Father," said Lucy, "I had intended to introduce you to Elder Malby,
but I wanted you to hear, unprejudiced, what he had to say. What he has
been teaching is 'Mormonism,' and you'll admit now that it is not at all
bad. You never would listen nor read."

"Lucy--that will do. Good evening, gentlemen. Come Lucy."

Later that same evening when most of the passengers had retired, the
Rev. Mr. Strong came up on deck again. He took off his cap so that the
breeze might blow unhindered through the thin, gray locks. He paced
slowly the length of the promenade deck with hands behind his back and
eyes alternatingly looking into the dark sky and to the deck at his
feet. The old man's usual erect form was bent a little as he walked, his
step broke occasionally from the rhythmatical tread. There was war in
the minister's soul. Conflicting emotions fought desperately for
ascendency. Memories of the past mingled with the scenes of the present,
and these became confused with the future. As a minister of the gospel
for half a lifetime, he had never had quite such a wildly disordered
mind. He wiped the perspiration from his brow. He groaned in spirit so
that moans escaped from his lips. The sea was beautifully still, but
rather would he have had it as wild and as boisterous as that which was
within his heart.

The man paused now and then at the rail. The Irish coast was not far
away, and the lights of ships could be seen, westward bound. The
minister tried to follow in his mind these little floating worlds; but
they were too slow. Like the lightning he crossed the Atlantic and then
with the same speed flew half way across the American continent to a