"Well," said Erica, "it was rather curious to hear everything reversed, and there was a good deal of fun altogether.They talked a great deal about the numbers of bibles, testaments, and portions which had been sent out.There was one man who spoke very broadly, and kept on speaking of the 'PORTIONS,' and there was another whom we called the 'Great Door,' because eight times in his speech he said that a great door had been opened for them in Italy and other places.Altogether, I thought them rather smug and self-satisfied, especially one man whose face shone on the slightest provocation, and who remarked, in broad Lincolnshire, that they had been 'aboondantly blessed.' After his speech a little short, sleek oily man got up, and talked about Providence.Apparently it had been very kind to him, and he thought the other sort of thing did best for those who got it.But there were one or two really good speakers, and I dare say they were all in earnest.Still, you know, Tom and I felt rather like fish out of water, and especially when they began to sing, 'Oh, Bible, blessed Bible!' and a lady would make me share her hymn book.Then, too, there was a collection, and the man made quite a pause in front of us, and of course we couldn't give anything.Altogether, I felt rather horrid and hypocritical for being there at all.""Is that your only experience of one of our meetings?""Oh, no, father took me with him two or three times to Westminster Abbey a good many years ago.We heard the dean; father admired him very much.I like Westminster Abbey.It seems to belong a little to us, too, because it is so national.And then it is so beautiful, and I liked hearing the music.I wonder, though, that you are not little afraid of having it so much in your worship.Iremember hearing a beautiful anthem there once, which just thrilled one all through.I wonder that you don't fear that people should mistake that for what you call spiritual fervor.""I think, perhaps, there is a danger in any undue introduction of externals, but any one whose spirit has ever been awakened will never mistake the mere thrill of sensuous rapture for the quickening of the spirit by the Unseen.""You are talking riddles to me now!" said Erica; "but I feel sure that some of the people who go to church regularly only like it because of that appeal to the senses.I shall never forget going one afternoon into Notre Dame with Mme.Lemercier.A flood of crimson and purple light was shining in through the south transept windows.You could see the white-robed priests and choristers--there was one boy with the most perfect voice you can conceive.Idon't know what they were singing, something very sweet and mournful, and, as that one voice rang up into the vaulted roof, Isaw Mme.Lemercier fall down on her knees and pray in a sort of rapture.Even I myself felt the tears come to my eyes, just because of the loveliness, and because the blood in one's veins seemed to bound.And then, still singing, the procession passed into the nave, and the lovely voice grew more and more distant.It was a wonderful effect; no doubt, the congregation thought they felt devout, but, if so, then I too felt devout--quite as religious as they.Your spiritual fervor seems to me to resolve itself into artistic effect produced by an appeal to the senses and emotions.""And I must repeat my riddle," said Charles Osmond, quietly."No awakened spirit could ever mistake the one for the other.It is impossible! How impossible you will one day realize.""One evil prophesy is enough for today!" said Erica laughing."If I stay any longer, you will be prophesying my acceptance of Christianity.No, no, my father will be grieved enough if your first prediction comes true, but, if I were to turn Christian, Ithink it would break his heart!"
She rose to go, and Charles Osmond went with her to the door, extracting a promise that she would discuss things with her aunt, and if she approved send for Mr.Osmond at once.He watched her across the square, then turning back into his study paced to and fro in deep thought.Erica's words rang in his ears."If I were to turn Christian, I think it would break his heart." How strangely this child was situated! How almost impossible it seemed that she could ever in this world come to the light! And yet the difficulty might perhaps be no hindrance to one so beautifully sincere, so ready to endure anything and everything for the sake of what she now considered truth.She had all her father's zeal and self-devotion; surely the offering up of self, even in a mistaken cause, must sooner or later lead to the Originator of all self-sacrifice.Surely some of those who seem only to thwart God, honestly deeming Christianity a mischievous delusion, are really acting more in His spirit, unconsciously better doing His will than many who openly declare themselves on His side! Yet, as Charles Osmond mused over the past lives of Luke Raeburn and his daughter, and pictured their probable future, a great grief filled his heart.
They wee both so lovable, so noble! That they should miss in a great measure the best of life seemed such a grievous pity! The chances that either of them would renounce atheism were, he could not but feel, infinitesimally small.Much smaller for the father than for the child.
It was true, indeed, that she had never fairly grasped any real idea of the character of Christ.He had once grasped it to a certain extent, and had lost the perception of its beauty and truth.It was true also that Erica's transparent sincerity, her quick perception of the beautiful might help very greatly to overcome her deeply ingrained prejudices.But even then what an agony--what a fearful struggle would lie before her; "I think it would break his heart!" Charles Osmond felt his breath come fast and hard at the mere thought of such a difference between the father and daughter! Could human strength possibly be equal to such a terrible trial? For these two were everything to each other.Erica worshipped her father, and Raeburn's fatherhood was the truest, deepest, tenderest part of his character.No, human strength could not do it, but--"I am; nyle ye drede!"
His eye fell on a little illuminated scroll above his mantelpiece, Wycliff's rendering of Christ's reassuring words to the fearful disciples.Yes, with the revelation of Himself, He would give the strength, make it possible to dread nothing, not even the infliction of grief to one's nearest and dearest.Much pain, much sacrifice there would be in his service, but dread--never.The strength of the "I am," bade it forever cease.In that strength the weakest could conquer.
But he had wondered on into a dim future, had pictured a struggle which in all probability would not take place.Even were that the case, however, he needed these words of assurance all the more himself.They wove themselves into his reverie as he paced to an fro; they led him further and further away from perplexed surmises as to the future of Raeburn and Erica, but closer to their souls, because they took him straight to the "God and father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in all."The next morning as he was preparing a sermon for the following Sunday, there came a knock at his study door.His brother came in.
He was a fine looking man of two or three-and-fifty.
"I can't stay," he said, "I've a long round, but I just looked in to tell you about your little heretic."Charles Osmond looked up anxiously.
"It is as you thought," continued his brother."Slight curvature of the spine.She's a brave little thing; I don't wonder you are interested in her.""It means a long rest, I suppose?"
"Yes, I told her a year in a recumbent posture; for I fancy she is one of those restless beings who will do nothing at all unless you are pretty plain with them.It is possible that six or eight months may be sufficient.""How did she take it?"
"Oh, in the pluckiest way you can conceive! Tried to laugh at the prospect, wanted me to measure her to see how much she grew in the time, and said she should expect at least three inches to reward her.""A Raeburn could hardly be deficient in courage.Luke Raeburn is without exception the bravest man I ever met.""And I'd back his daughter against any woman I know," said the doctor.
He left the room, but the news he had brought caused a long pause in his brother's sermon.
