"It certainly is," said Lucy, unconscious to all else but the spirit of the Elder's words.
"In this world," said the Elder, "the God-given power of creation is exercised unthoughtfully, unwisely, and often wickedly. A good-for-nothing scamp may become a father in name; but he who attains to that holy title in fact, must do as God does,—must love, cherish, sustain and make sacrifices for his child until his offspring becomes old enough and strong enough to stand for himself,—Don't you think so, Mr. Strong?"
All eyes were turned to the minister who was appealed to so directly. Had the reverend gentleman been listening, or had his thoughts been with his eyes, out to sea? His face was a study. But that was not to be wondered at. Was he not a dispenser of the Word himself, and had he not been listening to strange doctrine? However, he soon shifted his gaze from the horizon to his questioner.
"Certainly, I agree with you," he replied. "Father and fathering are distinct things. Happy the man who combines them in his life—happy, indeed."
The afternoon was growing to a close. The sun sank into the western sea. The Elder, carried along by the awakened missionary spirit, continued his talk. He explained that the Father had by means of the Son pointed out the way of life, called the plan of salvation, or gospel of Jesus Christ. He spoke of faith, repentance, and baptism for the remission of sins; for, said the Elder to himself, even the minister has need of these things.
Lucy drank eagerly the words of life. Her father sat unmoved, making no comment or objection. He had never been one to wrangle over religion; had prided himself, in fact, on being liberal and broad-minded; so he would not dispute even though he could not altogether agree. The Elder's words came to him in a strange way. Had he heard all this before? If so, it had been in some long-forgotten past; and this man's discourse only awakened a faint remembrance as of a distant bell tolling across the hills. Away back in his youth, he must have heard something like this; or was it an echo of some pre-existent world—he had heard of such things before. Perhaps it was the man's tone of voice, his mannerism that recalled, in some way, some past impression.
The Elder stopped. Lucy touched her father's arm.
"Father," she said, "I believe you are cold. I had better get your coat."
The minister arose, as if stiffened in the joints by long sitting. He reached out his hand to the Elder. "I have enjoyed your gospel talk," he said. "May I ask your name, and to what Church you belong, for evidently you are a preacher."
"My name is George Malby, and I am an elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, commonly known as 'Mormons.'"