“Not yet.  Go on.”

“Mr. Elston is a fine, good-hearted man,—­a gentleman in very deed.  He soon found out who I was and invited me to his home.  Julia was mistress there.  In the midst of the desert, these two had created a beautiful home.  I went to their Sunday School and their meetings.  I read Mormon books.  My eyes were opened to the truth, and I was ready to accept it.”

“Thanks to Julia,” suggested the listener with a sly glance at Chester.

“Yes; thanks to Julia, Brother Malby; but not in the sense you hint at.  I think I would have accepted the gospel, even had there been no Julia mixed up with the finding of it.  But Julia helped.  She was a living example of what ‘Mormonism’ can do for a person, and when I looked at her, learned her thoughts through her words, and saw her life by her every-day deeds, I said to myself, ’A system of religion that produces such a soul, cannot be bad.’  Yes; she was a wonderful help; but I repeat that had the truth come to me by other means and other ways, I believe I should have accepted it.”

“Forgive me for the thoughtless remark,” said Elder Malby.

“O, I know how justifiable you are for it, so you are forgiven.”

“Did you join the Church in Utah?”

“No; I went back to Chicago.  Away from Utah, from Piney Ridge Cottage and its influence.  I pondered and prayed.  I found the elders there and was baptized.  Then I went to Salt Lake City, where Julia had gone to attend school while her father was away on a mission to England.”  Chester paused, looking out on the sea.  “You don’t blame me for falling in love with Julia, do you?” asked he.

“I don’t blame you a bit.”

“But there was someone else, a young fellow who had grown up as a neighbor to her.  He also went on a mission, and then I believe Julia discovered that she thought more of Glen Curtis than of me.  I do not now blame Julia for that.  She told me plainly her feelings.  I persisted for a time, but in vain—­then I went away, and have never been to Utah since.”

“And that’s the end of your story?”

“Oh, no; while I was roaming aimlessly about the country trying to mend a broken heart, mother, becoming uneasy about me, and thinking I was yet in Utah, journeyed out west to find me.  The team on the stage-coach which took her out to Julia’s home, ran away from the drunken driver, and just before they got to Piney Ridge Cottage the wagon upset on a dug-way, and mother was mortally hurt.  She died under Julia’s care, and now lies in Mr. Elston’s private graveyard near Piney Ridge Cottage beside Mr. Elston’s other wife.  Let us walk a little.”

The older man linked his arm into Chester’s as they paced the long reach of the promenade deck.  They walked for a few minutes, then sat down again.

“I hope you’ll not think I’m a bore, to continue my personal history; but there is something in here,” said Chester, striking his breast, “that finds relief in expression to one who understands.”