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s；　she　had　been　right　truth　was　self…revealing。　　A　few　minutes　ago　those　words　had　been　to　her　an　unfulfilled；　a　vain　promise　the　speaker；　broad…hearted　and　loving　as　he　was；　had　doubtless　been　deluded。　　But　now　the　voice　spoke　to　her；　called　her　by　name；　told　her　what　she　wanted。

〃Dolly；〃　became　to　her　a　parable　of　life。　　She　had　been　like　that　little　child；　for　years　and　years　she　had　been　toiling　up　over　rough　stones　and　slippery　pebbles；　but　at　last　she　had　heard　the　voice。　　Was　this　the　coming　to　the　Father？

That　which　often　appears　sudden　and　unaccountable　is；　if　we　did　but　know　it；　a　slow；　beautiful　evolution。　　It　was　now　very　nearly　seven　years　since　the　autumn　afternoon　when　the　man　〃too　nice　to　be　a　clergyman；〃　and　〃not　a　bit　like　a　Christian；〃　had　come　to　Erica's　home；　had　shown　her　that　at　least　one　of　them　practiced　the　universal　brotherliness　which　almost　all　preached。　　It　was　nearly　seven　years　since　words　of　absolute　conviction；　words　of　love　and　power；　had　first　sounded　forth　from　Christian　lips　in　her　father's　lecture　hall；　and　had　awakened　in　her　mind　that　miserably　uncomfortable　question　〃supposing　Christianity　should　be　true？〃

All　the　most　beautiful　influences　are　quiet；　only　the　destructive　agencies；　the　stormy　wind；　the　heavy　rain　and　hail；　are　noisy。　　Love　of　the　deepest　sort　is　wordless；　the　sunshine　steals　down　silently；　the　dew　falls　noiselessly；　and　the　communion　of　spirit　with　spirit　is　calmer　and　quieter　than　anything　else　in　the　world　quiet　as　the　spontaneous　turning　of　the　sunflower　to　the　sun　when　the　heavy　clouds　have　passed　away；　and　the　light　and　warmth　reveal　themselves。　　The　subdued　rustle　of　leaves；　the　hushed　footsteps　sounded　as　usual　in　the　great　library；　but　Erica　was　beyond　the　perception　of　either　place　or　time。

Presently　she　was　recalled　by　the　arrival　of　another　student；　who　took　the　chair　next　to　hers　a　little　deformed　man；　with　a　face　which　looked　prematurely　old；　and　sad；　restless　eyes。　　A　few　hours　before　she　would　have　regarded　him　with　a　sort　of　shuddering　compassion；　now　with　the　compassion　there　came　to　her　the　thought　of　compensation　which　even　here　and　now　might　make　the　poor　fellow　happy。　　Was　he　not　immortal？　Might　he　not　here　and　now　learn　what　she　had　just　learned；　gain　that　unspeakable　joy？　　And　might　not　the　knowledge　go　on　growing　and　increasing　forever？　　She　took　up　her　pen　once　more；　verified　the　dates；　rolled　up　her　manuscript；　and　with　one　look　at　Livingstones's　journal；　returned　it　to　the　clerk　and　left　the　library。

It　was　like　coming　into　a　new　world；　even　dingy　Bloomsbury　seemed　beautiful。　　Her　face　was　so　bright；　so　like　the　face　of　a　happy　child；　that　more　than　one　passer…by　was　startled　by　it；　lifted　for　a　moment　from　sordid　cares　into　a　purer　atmosphere。　　She　felt　a　longing　to　speak　to　some　one　who　would　understand　her　new　happiness。　　She　had　reached　Guilford　Square；　and　looked　doubtfully　across　to　the　Osmonds'　house。　　They　would　understand。　　But　no　she　must　tell　her　father　first。　　And　then；　with　a　fearful　pang；　she　realized　what　her　new　conviction　meant。　　It　meant　bringing　the　sword　into　her　father's　house；　it　meant　grieving　him　with　a　life…long　grief；　it　meant　leaving　the　persecuted　minority　and　going　over　to　the　triumphant　majority；　it　meant　unmitigated　pain　to　all　those　she　loved　best。

Erica　had　had　her　full　share　of　pain；　but　never　had　she　known　anything　so　agonizing　as　that　moment's　sharp　revulsion。　　Mechanically　she　walked　on　until　she　reached　home；　nobody　was　in。　　She　looked　into　the　little　sitting　room　but；　only　Friskarina　sat　purring　on　the　rug。　　The　table　was　strewn　with　the　Saturday　papers；　the　midday　post　had　just　come。　　She　turned　over　the　letters　and　found　one　for　herself　in　her　father's　handwriting。　　It　was　the　one　thing　needed　to　complete　the　realization　of　her　pain。　　She　snatched　it　up　with　a　stifled　sob；　ran　upstairs　to　her　room；　and　threw　herself　down　on　the　bed　in　silent　agony。

A　new　joy　had　come　to　her　which　her　father　could　not　share；　a　joy　which　he　would　call　a　delusion；　which　he　spent　a　great　part　of　his　life　in　combating。　　To　tell　him　that　she　was　convinced　of　the　truth　of　Christianity　why；　it　would　almost　break　his　heart。

And　yet　she　must　inflict　this　terrible　pain。　　Her　nature　was　far　too　noble　to　have　dreamed　for　a　single　instant　of　temporizing；　of　keeping　her　thoughts　to　herself。　　A　Raeburn　was　not　likely　to　fail　either　in　courage　or　in　honesty；　but　with　her　courage　and　honesty；　Erica　had　the　violin…like　sensitiveness　of　nature　which　Eric　Haeberlein　had　noticed　even　in　her　childhood。　　She　saw　in　the　future　all　the　pain　she　must　bring　to　her　father；　intensified　by　her　own　sensitiveness。　　She　knew　so　well　what　her　feelings　would　have　been　but　a　short　time　ago；　if　any　one　she　greatly　loved　had　〃fallen　back〃　into　Christianity。　　How　could　she　tell　him？　　How　COULD　she！

Yet　it　was　a　thing　which　must　be　done。　　Should　she　write　to　him？　　No；　the　letter　might　reach　him　when　he　was　tired　and　worried　yet；　to　speak　would　be　more　painful。

She　got　up　and　went　to　the　window；　and　let　the　summer　wind　blow　on　her　heated　forehead。　　The　world　had　seemed　to　her　just　before　one　glorious　presence…chamber　full　of　sunshine　and　rejoicing。　　But　already　the　shadow　of　a　life…long　pain　had　　fallen　on　her　heart。　　A　revealed　Christ　meant　also　a　revealed　cross；　and　a　right　　heavy　one。

It　was　only　by　degrees　that　she　grew　strong　again；　and　Livingstone's　text　came　back　to　her　once　more；　〃I　am　with　you　always。〃

By　and　by　she　opened　her　father's　letter。　　It　ran　as　follows：

〃I　have　just　remembered　that　Monday　will　be　your　birthday。　　Let　us　spend　it　together；　little　son　Erica。　　A　few　days　at　Codrington　would　do　us　both　good；　and　I　have　a　tolerably　leisure　week。　　If　you　can　come　down　on　Saturday　afternoon；　so　much　the　better。　　I　will　meet　you　there；　if　you　will　telegraph　reply　as　soon　as　you　get　this。　　I　have　three　lectures　at　Helmstone　on　Sunday；　but　you　will　probably　prefer　a　quiet　day　by　the　sea。　　Bring　me　Westcott's　new　book；　and　you　might　put　in　the　chisel　and　hammer。　　We　will　do　a　little　geologizing　for　the　professor；　if　we　have　time。　　Meeting　here　last　night　a　great　success。　　Your　loving　father；　　Luke　Raeburn。〃

〃He　is　only　thinking　how　he　can　give　me　pleasure；〃　sighed　Erica。　　〃And　I　have　nothing　to　give　him　but　pain。〃

She　went　at　once；　however；　for　the　〃Bradshaw；〃　and　looked　out　the　afternoon　trains　to　Codrington。


CHAPTER　XX。　Storm

And　seems　she　mid　deep　silence　to　a　strain　To　listen；　which　the　soul　alone　can　know；　Saying：　〃Fear　naught；　for　Jesus　came　on　earth；　Jesus　of　endless　joys　the　wide；　deep　sea；　To　ease　each　heavy　load　of　mortal　birth。　His　waters　ever　clearest；　sweetest　be　To　him　who　in　a　lonely　bark　drifts　forth　On　His　great　deeps　of　goodness　trustfully。　　From　Vittoria　Colonna

Codrington　was　one　of　the　very　few　sea…side　places　within　fairly　easy　reach　of　London　which　had　not　been　vulgarized　into　an　ordinary　watering　place。　　It　was　a　primitive　little　place　with　one　good；　old…established　hotel；　and　a　limited　number　of　villas　and　lodging　houses；　which　only　served　as　a　sort　of　ornamental　fringe　to　the　picturesque　little　fishing　town。

The　fact　was　that　it　was　just　midway　between　two　large　and　deservedly　popular　resorts；　and　so　it　had　been　overlooked；　and　to　the　regret　of　the　thrifty　inhabitants　and　the　satisfaction　of　the　visitors　who　came　there　for　quiet；　its　peaceful　streets　and　its　stony　beach　were　never　invaded　by　excursionists。　　No　cockneys　came　down　for　the　Sunday　to　eat　shrimps；　the　shrimps　were　sent　away　by　train　to　the　more　favored　watering　places；　and　the　Codrington　shop　keepers　shook　their　heads　and　gave　up　expecting　to　make　a　fortune　in　such　a　conservative　little　place。　　Erica　said　it　reminded　her　of　the　dormouse　in　〃Alice　In　Wonderland；〃　tyrannized　over　by　the　hatter　on　one　side　and　the　March　hare　on　the　other；　and　eventually　put　head　foremost　into　the　teapot。　　Certainly　Helmstone　on　the　east　and　Westport　on　the　west　had　managed　to　eclipse　it　altogether；　and　its　peaceful　sleepiness　made　the　dormouse　comparison　by　no　means　inapt。

It　all　looked　wonderfully　unchanged　as　she　walked　from　the　station　that　summer　afternoon　with　her　father。　　The　square；　gray　tower　of　St。　Oswald's　Church；　the　little；　winding；　irregular　streets；　the　very　shop　windows　seemed　quite　unaltered；　while　at　every　turn　familiar　faces　came　into　sight。　　The　shrewd　old　sailor　with　the　telescope；　the　prim　old　lady　at　the　bookseller's；　who　had　pronounced　the　〃Imitation　of　Christ〃　to　be　quite　out　of　fashion；　the　sturdy　milkman；　with　white　smock…frock；　and　bright　pails　fastened　to　a　wooden　yoke；　and　the　coast…guardsman；　who　was　always　whistling　〃Tom　Bowling。〃

The　sea　was　as　calm　as　a　mill　pond；　Raeburn　suggested　an　hour　or　two　on　the　water　and　Erica；　who　was　fond　of　boating；　gladly　assented。　　She　had　made　up　her　ind　not　to　speak　to　her　father　that　evening；　he　had　a　very　hard　day's　work　before　him　on　the　Sunday；　they　must　have　these　few　hours　in　peace。　　She　did　not　in　the　least　dread　any　subject　coming　up　which　might　put　her　into　difficulty；　for；　on　the　rare　days　when　her　father　allowed　himself　any　recreation；　he　entirely　banished　all　controversial　topics　from　his　mind。　　He　asked　no　single　question　relating　to　the　work　or　to　business