Rose was sitting at the piano playing Mendelssohn's "Christmas Pieces," and giving great pleasure to every one for art was in this house somewhat overshadowed by science, and it did not very often happen that they could listen to such playing as Rose's which was for that reason a double pleasure.Tom was sitting near her looking supremely peaceful.On one side of the fireplace Mrs.
Craigie and Mrs.MacNaughton were playing their weekly game of chess.On the other side Raeburn had his usual Sunday evening recreation, his microscope.Erica knelt beside him, her auburn head close to his white one as they arranged their specimens or consulted books of reference.The professor, who had looked in on his way home from the lecture to borrow a review, was browsing contentedly among the books on the table with the comfortable sense that he might justifiably read in a desultory holiday fashion.
It was upon this peaceful and almost Sabbatical group that a disturbing element entered in the shape of Mr.Fane-Smith.He stood for an instant at the door, taking in the scene, or rather taking that superficial view which the narrow-minded usually take.
He was shocked at the chessmen; shocked at that profane microscope, and those week-day sections of plants; shocked at the music, though he must have heard it played as a voluntary on many church organs, and not only shocked, but furious, at finding his daughter in a very nest of secularists.
Every one seemed a little taken aback when he entered.He took no notice whatever of Raeburn, but went straight up to Rose.
"Go and put on your things at once," he said; "I have come to take you home.""Oh, papa," began Rose, "how you--"
"Not a word, Rose.Go and dress, and don't keep me waiting."Erica, with a vain hope of making Mr.Fane-Smith behave at least civilly, came forward and shook hands with him.
"I don't think you have met my father before," she said.
Raeburn had come a few steps forward; Mr.Fane-Smith inclined his about a quarter of an inch; Raeburn bowed, then said to Erica:
"Perhaps Mr.Fane-Smith would prefer waiting in my study.""Thanks, I will wait where I am," said Mr.Fane-Smith, pointedly, ignoring the master of the house and addressing Erica."Thank you," as she offered him a chair, " I prefer to stand.Have the goodness to see that Rose is quick.""Thinks the chair's atheistical!" remarked Tom to himself.
Raeburn, looking a degree more stately than usual, stood on the hearth rug with his back to the fire, not in the least forgiving his enemy, but merely adopting for himself the most dignified role.
Mr.Fane-Smith a few paces off with his anger and ill-concealed contempt did not show to advantage.Something in the relative sizes of the two struck the professor as comically like Landseer's "Dignity and Impudence." He would have smiled at the thought had he not been very angry at the discourteous treatment his friend was receiving.Mrs.MacNaughton sat with her queen in her hand as though meditating her next move, but in reality absorbed in watching the game played by the living chess-men before her.Tom at last broke the uncomfortable silence by asking the professor about some of Erica's specimens, and at length Rose came down, much to every one's relief, followed by Erica, who had been helping her to collect the things.
"Are you ready?" said her father."Then come at once.""Let me at least say goodbye, papa," said Rose, very angry at being forced to make this undignified and, as she rightly felt, rude exit.
"Come at once," said Mr.Fane-Smith in an inexorable voice.As he left the room he turned and bowed stiffly.
"Go down and open the door for them, Tom," said Raeburn, who throughout Mr.Fane-Smith's visit had maintained a stern, stately silence.
Tom, nothing loth, obeyed.Erica was already half way downstairs with the guests, but he caught them up and managed to say goodbye to Rose, even to whisper a hope that they might meet again, to which Rose replied with a charming blush and smile which, Tom flattered himself, meant that she really cared for him.Had Rose gone quietly away the next morning, he would not have been goaded into any such folly.A cab was waiting; but, when Rose was once inside it, her father recovered his power of speech and turned upon Erica as they stood by the front door.
"I should have thought," he said in an angry voice, "that after our anxiety to persuade you to leave your home, you might have known that I should never allow Rose to enter this hell, to mix with blaspheming atheists, to be contaminated by vile infidels!"Erica's Highland hospitality and strong family loyalty were so outraged by the words that to keep silent was impossible.
"You forget to whom you are speaking," she said quickly."You forget that this is my father's house!""I would give a good deal to be able to forget," said Mr.
Fane-Smith."I have tried to deal kindly with you, tried to take you from this accursed place, and you repay me by tempting Rose to stay with you!"Erica had recovered herself by this time.Tom, watching her, could not but wonder at her self-restraint.She did not retaliate, did not even attempt to justify her conduct; at such a moment words would have been worse than useless.But Tom, while fully appreciating the common sense of the non-resistance, was greatly astonished.Was this his old playmate who had always had the most deliciously aggravating retort ready? Was this hot-tempered Erica?
That Mr.Fane-Smith's words were hurting her very much he could see; he guessed, too, that the consciousness that he, a secularist, was looking on at this unfortunate display of Christian intolerance, added a sting to her grief.
"It is useless to profess Christianity," stormed Mr.Fane-Smith, "if you openly encourage infidelity by consorting with these blasphemers.You are no Christian! A mere Socinian a Latitudinarian!"Erica's lips quivered a little at this; but she remembered that Christ had been called harder names still by religious bigots of His day, and she kept silence.
