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she was acting under a delusion; you may admire the character of
Gotama without considering Buddhism the true religion; and so with
Christ, I may reverence and admire His character, while believing
Him to have been mistaken.
Charles Osmond smiled. He knew from many trifling signs, unnoticed
by others, that Erica would have given a great deal to see her way
to an honest acceptance of that teaching of Christ which spoke of
an unseen but everywhere present Father of all, of the
everlastingness of love, of a reunion with those who are dead. She
hardly allowed to herself that she longed to believe it, she
dreaded the least concession to that natural craving; she
distrusted her own truthfulness, feared above all things that she
might be deluded, might imagine that to be true which was in
reality false.
And happily, her prophet was too wise to attempt in any way to
quicken the work which was going on within her; he was one of those
rare men who can be, even in such a case, content to wait. He
would as soon have thought of digging up a seed to see whether he
could not quicken its slow development of root and stem as of
interfering in any way with Erica. He came and went, taught her
Greek, and always, day after day, week after week, month after
month, however much pressed by his parish work, however harassed by
private troubles, he came to her with the genial sympathy, the
broadhearted readiness to hear calmly all sides of the question,
which had struck her so much the very first time she had met him.
The other members of the family liked him almost as well, although
they did not know him so intimately as Erica. Aunt Jean, who had
at first been a little prejudiced against him, ended by singing his
praises more loudly than any one, perhaps conquered in spite of
herself by the man's extraordinary power of sympathy, his ready
perception of good even in those with whom he disagreed most.
Mrs. Craigie was in many respects very like her brother, and was a
very useful worker, though much of her work was little seen. She
did not speak in public; all the oratorical powers of the family
seemed to have concentrated themselves in Luke Raeburn; but she
wrote and worked indefatigably, proving a very useful second to her
brother. A hard, wearing life, however, had told a good deal upon
her, and trouble had somewhat imbittered her nature. She had not
the vein of humor which had stood Raeburn in such good stead.
Severely materoffact, and almost despising those who had any
poetry in their nature, she did not always agree very well with
Erica. The two loved each other sincerely, and were far too loyal

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