"Well, I don't know;--but that brings me to the point of my errand. I sought you out especially today to ask you not to talk religion to my daughter. I understand she and you had a discussion on 'Mormonism' last evening, and she slept very little all night as a result." "You are mistaken, sir; I said nothing to her about 'Mormonism.' She told me a little about--" "Well, whatever it was, she was and is still ill over it. Let me tell you,--and I am sure you will believe me,--my little girl is all I have. She has been ailing for years, heart trouble mostly, with complications. A comfortable voyage with no over-excitement might help, the doctors said; and that's the main reason for this trip. She has always been interested in religious questions, which I naturally encouraged her in; but when she got mixed up somewhat with the 'Mormons,' that was quite another matter." "Why, may I ask?" "Well, it excited her. It brought her in contact with undesirable people, people not of her class and standing--" "Like me, for instance." "I did not say that." "You inferred it. But pardon me. I would not, for the world, do anything that would unfavorably affect your daughter." "I knew you would look at the matter sensibly. Perhaps it would be for the best if you did not meet her oftener than possible. I know it is difficult on ship-board, but for her sake you might try." "For her sake, why certainly, I'll do anything--for I want to tell you, Mr. Strong, you have a good, sweet daughter." "I'm glad you think so." "And I think a whole lot of her, I may just as well tell you. We have met but a few times, but some souls soon understand each other." "What! You don't mean--!" "That we have been making love to each other," laughed Chester. "O, no; not that I know; but there is such a thing as true affinity of souls, nevertheless, the affinity which draws by the Spirit of God. And so I say again plainly, that you may understand, I regard your daughter highly." "Young man, I thank you for your open manner and speech, but I beseech of you not to encourage any deeper feeling towards my daughter. She can never marry. She lives, as it were, on the brink of the grave. Now, I have been plain also with you." "I appreciate it, sir; believe me; I am profoundly sorry for her and for you; but, let me say this, seeing we are speaking plainly, if I loved your daughter, and we all knew she would die tomorrow, or next month, that knowledge would make only this difference, that my love would become all the holier. If she returned that love, we would be happy in knowing that in the life beyond we would go on and bring that love to a perfect consummation." The minister looked closely again at the young man. Then, giving voice to his thoughts, asked: "Have you studied for the ministry? Are you now a 'Mormon' missionary?"