Erica, returning from the flower show late in the afternoon, found a note awaiting her, and opened it unconcernedly enough on her way up to her room.But the first glance at it brought a glow of color to her face and a nameless fear to her heart.She ran on quickly, locked her door, and by the ruddy firelight read in a sort of dumb dismay her first offer of marriage.This then was the meaning of it all.This was the cause of his hurried return to England; this had brought her the long talks which had been so pleasant, yes, strangely, unaccountably pleasant.Yet, for all that, she knew well enough that she had nothing to give in return for the love revealed in every word of the letter.She liked him, liked to talk to him, thought him clever and interesting, but that was all.His wife! Oh, no! Impossible! That could never be! And then, as usual, even in the midst of her strange sense of discomfort and perplexity, there came a flash of humor which made her laugh noiselessly in the dim light."Tom would call me Mrs.Sly Bacon!"But a second reading of the letter made her look grave.She was very much puzzled to know how to answer it; how, in refusing, to give him least pain.There was nothing else to hesitate about, of her own mind she was quite sure.There was only an hour till post time.She must write at once, and she must write in a way which could not be mistaken.There was not a grain of coquetry about Erica.After some thought she wrote the following lines:
"Dear Mr.Cunningham, Your letter surprised me very much and pained me, too, because in replying I fear I must give you pain.I thank you for the honor you have done me, but I can never be your wife.
Even if I could return your love, which I can not, it could never be right.People are so prejudiced that the connection of our names might greatly injure your public work, and, besides, you could not live in the circle in which I live, and nothing could ever make it right for me to leave my own people.I can not write as I should like to I can not say what I would, or thank you as Iwould but please understand me, and believe me yours very sincerely, Erica Raeburn."Strange enough the writing of that letter, the realization of the impossibility of accepting Leslie Cunningham's offer, opened out to Erica a new region, started her upon a new stage of her life progress.In spite of her trouble at the thought of the pain she must give, there was an indefinable sense that life and love meant much more than she had hitherto dreamed of; and, though for the next few days she was a little grave and silent, there rang in her ears the refrain:
"Oh, life, oh, beyond, Thou art strange, thou art sweet."She was not sorry that her visit was drawing to a close, although the last week had gone much more smoothly.Her vigorous nature began to long to return to the working day world, and though she could very honestly thank Mr.Fane-Smith for his kindness, she turned her back on his house with unmixed satisfaction.
"And you cannot change your ind as to my suggestion?" he asked sending off one parting arrow.
"I can not," said Erica, firmly, "he is my father.""You must of course make your own choice," he said with a sigh.
"But you are sadly wrong, sadly wrong! In my opinion your father is--""Forgive me for interrupting you," said Erica, "but by your own showing you have no right to have any opinion whatever about my father.Until you have either learned to know him personally, heard him speak, or fairly and carefully studied his writings, you have no grounds to form an opinion upon.""But the current opinion is--"
"The current opinion is no more an opnion than yours! It is the view of most bitter opponents.And, candidly, WOULD you accept the current opinion held of any prominent statesman by his adversaries?
Why, the best men living are represented as fiends in human shape by their enemies! And if this is so in political matters, how much more in such a case as my father's!"Mr.Fane-Smith, who was a well-meaning though narrow man, sighed again; it was always very painful to him to listen to views which did not coincide with his own.
"Well," he said at length, "there is, after all, the hope that you may convert him.""I hope you do not want me to turn into one of those hateful little prigs, who go about lamenting over their unregenerate parents,"said Erica, naughtily.Then, softening down, she added, "I think I know what you mean perhaps I was wrong to speak like that, only somehow, knowing what my father is, it does grate so to put it in that way.But don't think I would not give my life for him to come to the light here and now for I would! I would!"She clasped her hands tightly together, and turned quickly away.
Mr.Fane-Smith was touched.
"Well, my dear," he said."You may be right, after all, and I may be wrong.All my anxiety is only for your ultimate good."The train was on the point of starting, he gave her a warm hand shake, and in spite of all that jarred in their respective natures, Erica ended by liking him the best of her new relations.
