But next morning there was no time to talk of either love or religion for Chester and Lucy.
The coast of Ireland had been sighted earlier than had been expected, and there was the usual straining of eyes landward. Chester was among the first to see the dark points on the horizon which the seamen said was the Irish coast, and which as the vessel approached, expanded to green hills, dotted with whitened houses. This then was Europe, old, historic Europe, land of our forefathers, land of the stories and the songs that have come down to us from the distant past.
"Good morning. What do you think of Ireland?" Lucy touched his arm.
"Oh, good morning. You are up early."
"I am feeling so fine this morning that I had to get up and join in the cry of 'Land ho.' No matter how pleasant an ocean voyage has been, we are always pleased to see the land. Besides, we get off at Queenstown."
"What!" exclaimed Chester. "I thought you were bound for Liverpool?"
"Yes, later; but we are to visit some of our people in Ireland first. Papa has a brother in Cork. We intend to remain there a few days, then go on to Dublin, Liverpool, London, Paris, etc., etc.," laughed the girl.
Chester's heart sank. The separation was coming sooner than he had thought. Only a few more hours, and this little sun-kissed voyage would end. He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo. Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning. Perhaps it was the Irish blood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers. Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with the somewhat disheveled hair. There was a press of people along the rail which caused Lucy's shoulders to snuggle closely to his side. Chester was silent.
"Yes;" she went on, "there's dear old Ireland. You see, this is my second visit, and it's like coming home. You go on to Liverpool, I understand."