Chester stepped back to Lucy. It was dark where she lay, but he passed his hand over her form to her face, touching tenderly her cheek and closed eyes. The flesh was not yet cold, but he felt that the soul whom he had come to know as Lucy Strong was not there. Captain Brown called through the darkness. Chester groped into the open again. Was that the captain's figure on the bridge, looming black against the faint light in the eastern sky? If it was, Chester was in no condition to know, for just then there came a great sinking. A roar of waters sounded in his ears, there was a struggle, a moment of agony, and then the darkness of oblivion. When he awoke again, he had passed over the storm-whipped bar into still waters. There Lucy met him, and together they sailed, guided by the unerring Light of God into the Harbor of Eternal Peace and Rest. CHAPTER XXI. Thomas Strong was a guest at Piney Ridge Cottage. It had taken him a full year to get over the effects of that dreadful sea disaster wherein a son, a daughter, and a dear friend had been lost, and to finally make his way westward to the people to whom both son and daughter had belonged. He had arrived during apple-blossom time, and the white-haired, sad-faced man who seemed to have had all mortality burned from him by fiery trials, was kindly received by Mr. Elston, his daughter Julia and her husband, Bishop Glen Curtis. These listened to his strange story, and were profoundly moved by its tragic ending. They urged him to remain with them, Julia giving him the room on the attic floor which previously was hers. He was grateful for all these kindnesses, saying he would be pleased to visit with them for a time. Out under the apple trees in the growing orchard Hugh Elston made for their guest a seat, where during the day he would sit as one alone, listening and waiting here in this spot away from the noise and traffic of the world for a final message which the God of the Universe might send him. As far as his strength would allow, he liked to walk along the country roads, which now extended for many miles from Piney Ridge, and chat with the neighbors about the country and its prospects. He also made some minor excursions up the hillsides, but in this direction he could not go far. Frequently he stopped to rest by the enclosed graves, where he sat on the grass, and with hands on cane, looked wonderingly at the two graves, side by side. But whispered messages from out the blue or storms of heaven did not come to this man. Neither were there angels sent to tell him what to do; but the Lord had one more thing--simple indeed--to bear upon the reluctant heart of Thomas Strong.