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peacemakers reconcilers, must be content to receive the treatment
which the Prince of Peace received; she forgot that these rich,
contemptuous people were her brothers and sisters, and that their
hard judgment did not and could not alter their relationship; she
forgot all in a burning indignation, in an angry revolt against the
injustice of the world.
She would study these people, she would note all their little
weaknesses and foibles. Mr. Bircham had given her carte blanche
for these three weeks; she would write him a deliciously sarcastic
article on modern society. The idea fixed her imagination, she
laughed to herself at the thought; for, however sad the fact, it is
nevertheless true that to ordinary mortals revenge is sweet. Had
she given herself time to think out matters calmly, she would have
seen that boh Christianity and the rules of art were opposed to her
idea. It is true that Michael Angelo and other painters used to
revenge themselves on the cardinals or enemies they most hated by
painting them in the guise of devils, but both they and their art
suffered by such a concession to an animal passion. And Erica
fell grievously that evening. This is one of the evils of social
ostracism. It is unjust, unnatural, and selfish. To preserve what
it considers the dignity of society, it drives human beings into an
unnatural position; it fosters the very evils which it denounces.
And society is grossly unfair. A word, a breath, a false libel in
a newspaper is quite sufficient. It will never trouble itself to
inquire minutely into the truth, but will pronounce its hasty
judgment, and then ostracize.
Erica began to listen attentively to the conversation, and it must
be owned that it was not very edifying. Then she studied the faces
and manners of her companions, and, being almost in the middle of
the table, she had a pretty good view. Every creature she studied
maliciously, keenly, sarcastically, until she came to the end of
the table, and there a most beautiful face brought her back to
herself for a minute with a sort of shock. Where had she seen it
before? A strong, manly face of the Roman type, cleanshaven, save
for a very slight mustache, which did not conceal the firm yet
sensitive mouth; dark eyes, which even as she wondered met hers
fully for an instant, and gave her a strange feeling of protection.
She knew that at least one person in the room did not shudder at
the idea of sitting at table with Luke Raeburn's daughter.
Better thoughts returned to her, she grew a little ashamed of her
malice, and began to wonder who that ideal man could be.
Apparently he was one of the distinguished guests, for he had taken

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