“The son to which his heart has been reaching for many long years, Chester.  Yes, I see it plainly....  You have told the truth ... you are my brother—­you—­”

She trembled, then fell into his arms; but she controlled herself again, and when he kissed her pale face and stroked her hair, she opened her eyes and looked steadily up into his face.  Thus they remained for a time, heedless of the few passers-by who but looked at a not uncommon sight.  She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them Chester was struggling hard to keep back the tears.

To tell the truth, both of them cried a little about that time, and it did them good too.  They got up, walked about on the grass for a time until they could look more unmovedly at their changed standing to each other.  Then they talked more freely, but things were truly so newly mixed that it was difficult to get them untangled.  At last Lucy said she would have to go back to her father—­our father, she corrected.

“And he knows, remember,” said Chester to her.  “I and you also know.  We know too,” he added, “that the Lord is above, and will take care of us all.”

“Yes,” said Lucy.

Then they went back.  The father was still very ill.  Chester did not try to see him, for Uncle Gilbert had not relented.

“I’m going to see Elder Malby this afternoon,” said Chester.  “This evening I shall call again.  Meanwhile”—­they were alone in the hall now—­“you must keep up your courage and faith.  I feel as though everything will yet turn out well.”

He took her as usual in his arms, and she clung to him closer than she had ever done before.

“Chester,” she said, “I can’t yet feel that there is any difference in our relationship.  You are yet my lover, are you not?”

“Yes, Lucy; and you are my sweetheart.  Somehow, I am not condemned when I say it.  What can it be—­”

“Something that whispers peace to our hearts.”

“The Comforter, Lucy, the Comforter from the Lord.”

CHAPTER XVII.

The delay in getting back to Kildare Villa was making Uncle Gilbert nervous.  In his own mind, he blamed Chester Lawrence for being the cause of much of the present trouble, though in what way he could not clearly tell.  The young man’s presence disturbed the usual placid life of the minister.  Why such a disturber should be so welcomed into the family, the brother could not understand.  Perhaps this new-fangled religion called “Mormonism” was at the root of all the trouble.

In his confusion, Uncle Gilbert determined on a very foolish thing:  he would get his brother and Lucy away with him to Ireland, leaving Chester behind, for at least a few days.  Of course, a young fellow in love as deeply as Chester seemed to be, would follow up and find them again, but there would be a respite for a time.  With this idea in mind, Uncle Gilbert, the very next day, found Chester at his lodgings; and apparently taking him into his confidence, told him of his plan.  Chester was willing to do anything that Uncle Gilbert and “the others” thought would be for the best.  Chester was made to understand that “the others” agreed to the plan, and although the thought sent a keen pang through the young man’s heart, he did not demur.