Then the minister—­Chester’s minister—­arose.  He had been asked, he said, to add a few words to the regular service, and he was pleased to do so.  He called attention to the accident which had happened on their voyage, and felt to say something on the providence of God, and His watch-care over His children.  The preacher’s voice was pleasant, the ministerial tone not being so pronounced as to make his speech unnatural.  Chester listened attentively, as also did Lucy who, Chester observed, was sitting well up towards the front.

“God is the source of the being of all men,” said the preacher.  “He has brought us all into existence, and made us in His own likeness, and is a Father to us in fact and in feeling.  He owns us and owns His responsibility for us.  He cares for us and overrules all things for our good.  He is worthy of our love and confidence.  Since we are His children, God desires us to be such in very deed—­in fellowship and character, and is satisfied with us only as we are giving ourselves to the filial life.  This relationship which we bear to God cannot be fully explained.  There is a mystery in it beyond the understanding of finite minds; but of this we are sure that the God of Creation has brought us all forth into being, and He will take care of us if we will let Him.  We cannot reasonably and reverently think otherwise of Him.

“Is it not a comfort to think that we cannot get away from the ever-present watchfulness of God?  As the Psalmist puts it:  ’Whither shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence?  If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there:  if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.  If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.  If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.  Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day:  the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.’  Yes, yes, my friends, ’God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.  Therefore will not we fear—­’”

Somehow, what the minister said after that came very indistinctly to Chester Lawrence.  He heard the words, but was aware only of a peculiar feeling, a dim perception of where he was and what he was hearing.  There seemed to him to be a genuine feeling in the voice that uttered those beautiful words of scripture.  They clung to his heart, and the minister himself became transfigured for an instant into some other being,—­stern of countenance, yet loveliness in the depths of his soul, spiritually far away, yet heart yearning with nearness of love.  Chester came fully to himself only when Elder Malby took his arm and together they paced a few turns around the deck.

That same Sunday evening as Chester stood alone on the promenade deck watching the moonlight lay as a golden coverlet on the placid sea, his attention was attracted to the figure of a girl mounting the steps leading to the deck where he stood.  She paused half way as if to rest, then came slowly up to where he was standing.  Her breath came heavily, and she looked around to find a place to rest.  Chester instinctively took her arm and led her to a deck chair.