"My real, live, long lost brother?" "Yes." "Now I see what you have been driving at all this time. You say you are my brother, that my father is your father. Now explain." "That's not so easy, Lucy. I would much rather your father would do that. But I can tell you a little, for it's very little I know--and, Lucy, that little is not pleasant." "But I must know." Her face was serious again. She was bracing herself bravely too. "I was born outside the marriage relation, and your father was my father!" That was plain enough--brutally plain. The girl turned to marble. Had he killed her? "Go on," she whispered. "No more now--some other time." "Go on, Chester." Chester told her in brief sentences the simple facts, and what had led to his discovery of the truth just the other day. It was this that had caused the change she had noticed in him. "Lucy, I was not sure," he said, "so I went to your father last night and asked him pointedly, directly, and he said 'Yes.' That explains the situation you found us in. My heart went out to my father, Lucy; and his heart went out to his son." "The son to which his heart has been reaching for many long years, Chester. Yes, I see it plainly.... You have told the truth ... you are my brother--you--" She trembled, then fell into his arms; but she controlled herself again, and when he kissed her pale face and stroked her hair, she opened her eyes and looked steadily up into his face. Thus they remained for a time, heedless of the few passers-by who but looked at a not uncommon sight. She closed her eyes again, and when she opened them Chester was struggling hard to keep back the tears. To tell the truth, both of them cried a little about that time, and it did them good too. They got up, walked about on the grass for a time until they could look more unmovedly at their changed standing to each other. Then they talked more freely, but things were truly so newly mixed that it was difficult to get them untangled. At last Lucy said she would have to go back to her father--our father, she corrected. "And he knows, remember," said Chester to her. "I and you also know. We know too," he added, "that the Lord is above, and will take care of us all." "Yes," said Lucy. Then they went back. The father was still very ill. Chester did not try to see him, for Uncle Gilbert had not relented. "I'm going to see Elder Malby this afternoon," said Chester. "This evening I shall call again. Meanwhile"--they were alone in the hall now--"you must keep up your courage and faith. I feel as though everything will yet turn out well." He took her as usual in his arms, and she clung to him closer than she had ever done before. "Chester," she said, "I can't yet _feel_ that there is any difference in our relationship. You are yet my lover, are you not?" "Yes, Lucy; and you are my sweetheart. Somehow, I am not condemned when I say it. What can it be--" "Something that whispers peace to our hearts."