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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 violinlike 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 presencechamber full of sunshine and rejoicing. But
already the shadow of a lifelong 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

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