man--Chester Lawrence?"

"Father," she cried, "what do you mean?"

"Just what I say. I am not blind. I made him promise not to seek your
company or talk religion to you. Tomorrow I shall relieve him from that
promise."

"O, father!"

"There now, child,--and Lucy, he may talk of religion and love all he
wants. I think those two things, when they are of the right kind and
properly blended, are good for the heart, don't you?"

"Yes, thank you, dear daddy--we are so near England now that I may call
you daddy."

"Then good-night, my girl;" and he kissed her again in the doorway.

CHAPTER VII.

But next morning there was no time to talk of either love or religion
for Chester and Lucy.

The coast of Ireland had been sighted earlier than had been expected,
and there was the usual straining of eyes landward. Chester was among
the first to see the dark points on the horizon which the seamen said
was the Irish coast, and which as the vessel approached, expanded to
green hills, dotted with whitened houses. This then was Europe, old,
historic Europe, land of our forefathers, land of the stories and the
songs that have come down to us from the distant past.

"Good morning. What do you think of Ireland?" Lucy touched his arm.

"Oh, good morning. You are up early."

"I am feeling so fine this morning that I had to get up and join in the
cry of 'Land ho.' No matter how pleasant an ocean voyage has been, we
are always pleased to see the land. Besides, we get off at Queenstown."

"What!" exclaimed Chester. "I thought you were bound for Liverpool?"

"Yes, later; but we are to visit some of our people in Ireland first.
Papa has a brother in Cork. We intend to remain there a few days, then
go on to Dublin, Liverpool, London, Paris, etc., etc.," laughed the
girl.

Chester's heart sank. The separation was coming sooner than he had
thought. Only a few more hours, and this little sun-kissed voyage would
end. He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo.
Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning. Perhaps it was the Irish
blood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers.
Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with the
somewhat disheveled hair. There was a press of people along the rail
which caused Lucy's shoulders to snuggle closely to his side. Chester
was silent.

"Yes;" she went on, "there's dear old Ireland. You see, this is my
second visit, and it'