When I realized that Julia Elston had been the instrument of the Lord in doing that, I had to put away resentment and acknowledge the hand of God in it. I read in the parables of our Lord that a certain merchantman had to sell all he had in order to get the purchase money to buy the Pearl of Great Price. Why should it be given me without cost?"

"We all have to pay for it."

"And I who had made no sacrifice, railed against fate because I had been asked to pay a trifle—no it was not a trifle; but I have paid, and hope to continue to pay to the last call. Now, what do you say, brother? Tell me what you think."

"Well, you have an interesting story, my brother, and I am glad you look on your experiences in the right light. To get the woman one thinks he ought to get, is, after all, not the whole of life. There are other blessings. To have one's life changed from darkness into light; to have one's journey turned from a downward course to one of eternal exaltation; to obtain a knowledge of the plan of salvation,—these are important. If one is on the right way, and keeps on that way to the end, He who rules the world and the destinies of men, will see to it that all is right. Sometime, somewhere, every man and every woman will come to his own, whether in life or death, in this world, or the next."

"Thank you for saying that. Do you know, I am now glad that Julia did not yield to my entreaties, and marry me out of pity. Think how I would have felt when the realization of that had come to me. * * * * I found this expression of Stevenson the other day, purporting to be a test of a man's fortitude and delicacy: 'To renounce where that shall be necessary, and not to be embittered.' Thank the Lord, I am not embittered. Some time ago I chose this declaration of Paul for my motto: 'But this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.'"

The light of a soul of peace shone from the countenance of the young man. The smile on the lips added only beauty to the strength of the face. He arose, shook himself as if to get rid of all past unpleasantness and weakness, and faced the east as though he were meeting the world with new power. Then the smile changed to a merry laugh as he ran to the railing and cried:

"See, sure enough, there is a school of porpoises!"

The ship was in mid-ocean. The rough weather had wholly ceased. The sea lay glinting like a vast jewel under the slant of the afternoon sun. It was a day of unflecked beauty. The decks were gay with people, some walking, some leaning idly on the rail, some sitting with books in their hands. A few were reading, but most sat with finger in closed book. Why bother to read about life when it could be seen so full and interesting all around.

A day on ship-board is longer than one on shore, and provision must be made to pass it pleasantly. If the weather is fair, this is quite a problem. Of course, there are the meals in the well-appointed dining saloon. They break pleasantly into the long monotony. Then there are the deck games; the watching for "whales" and passing vessels; the looking at the spinning log in the foaming water at the stern; the marking of the chart, which indicates the distance traversed during the twenty-four hours; the visit to the steerage and the "stoke hole," or boiler room in the depths of the ship; and last, but not least, the getting acquainted with one's fellow passengers. "Steamer friendships" are easily made, and in most cases, soon forgotten. The little world of people speeding across the deep from shore to shore, is bound together closely for a few days, and then, its inhabitants scatter.

Chester Lawrence was enjoying every hour of the voyage. On that day practically all sea-sickness had gone. The vacant places at the tables were being filled and the company looked around at each other with pleasant contentment. The steamship company no longer saved on the provisions. The chatty old gentleman at Chester's right was back again after a short absence, and the power of speech had come to the demure lady on his left, with the return of her appetite.

Two places opposite Chester were still vacant at the table. That day as the crowd hastily answered the dinner gong, Chester, being a little tardy, encountered an elderly man and what appeared to be his daughter making their way slowly down the companionway towards the dining room. Chester saw at a glance that neither of them was strong, but both tried to appear able and were bound to help each other. He smiled at their well-meaning endeavors, then without asking leave, took the man's free arm and helped him down the steps, saying,

"You haven't quite got your sea-legs yet—Now then, steady, and we'll soon be there. Get a good dinner, and that will help."

The steward showed them to the two seats opposite Chester which had been vacant so long.

"Thank you very much," said the girl to Chester, with a smile, when the elderly man was well seated. Chester bowed without replying, then went around the table to his own seat.

Somehow that gracious little smile had made Chester's heart flutter for an instant. As he realized it, he said to himself, "What's the matter with me? Am I getting foolish? It was, certainly a sweet smile, and the thanks were gracious, too; but what of it?" The first courses were being served. She was sitting opposite him, just a few feet away. He might take a good look at the girl to see if there was anything uncommon about her. He looked down the table, glancing just for an instant opposite. No; there was nothing striking, or to be disturbed about. The girl was still solicitous over her companion, meanwhile eating a little herself. "I musn't be rude, thought Chester, and then looked again across the table. The man was past middle age. His face was clean shaven, and he was dressed in the garb of a minister. He was a preacher, then. The girl had evidently suffered much from sea-sickness, because her face was pale and somewhat pinched, though there was a tinge of red in her cheeks. That's a pretty chin, and a lovely mouth—and, well, now, what is the matter! Chester Lawrence, attend to your chicken."

The minister and his daughter did not remain for the dessert. As they arose, he said:

"Now, that's pretty good for the first time, isn't it?"

"Yes, father, it is," she replied. "You're getting on famously. Shall we try the deck for a while?"

"Yes; it will do us both good to get into the air. Run along into your room for a wrap."

Chester was tempted to leave his dinner to help them again; but he resisted the temptation. They walked quite firmly now, and as they entered the passageway, the girl glancing back into the room, met Chester's eyes and smiled once more. Again Chester's heart fluttered. It would have been a cold, hardened heart indeed not to have responded to such an appeal.

CHAPTER III.

On the morning of the fourth day out, Chester Lawrence stood watching the antics of a young man, who, coatless and hatless, and made brave by too many visits to the bar, was running up the rope ladders of the mast to a dangerous height. He climbed up to where the ladder met the one on the other side, down which he scrambled with the agility of a monkey. The ladies in the group on deck gasped in fright at his reckless daring. The fellow jumped to the deck from the rail, and made a sweeping bow to the spectators:

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "'tis nothing at all, I assure you. On shore I am a circus performer, an' I was just practicing a little. Have no fear. See—"

He was about to make a second exhibition when a ship's officer seized him, threatening to lock him up if he did not desist.