"Erica," he said, almost sternly, "you talk much about those who quote your father's words unfairly; but have you never misquoted the words of Christ? You deny Him and disbelieve in Him, yet you have never really studied His life.You have read the New Testament through a veil of prejudice.Mind, I am not saying one word in defense of those so-called Christians who treat you unfairly or uncharitably; but I do say that, as far as I can see, you are quite as unfair to Christ as they are to your father.Of course, you may reply that Jesus of Nazareth lived nearly nineteen hundred years ago, and that your father is still living; that you have many difficulties and doubts to combat, while our bigots can verify every fact or quotation with regard to Mr.Raeburn with perfect ease and certainty.That is true enough.But the difficulties, if honestly faced, might be surmounted.You don't honestly face them; you say to yourself, 'I have gone into all these matters carefully, and now I have finally made up my mind;there is an end of the matter!' You are naturally prejudiced against Christ; every day your prejudices will deepen unless you strike out resolutely for yourself as a truth-seeker, as one who insists on always considering all sides of the question.At present you are absolutely unfair, you will not take the trouble to study the life of Christ."Few people like to be told of their faults.Erica could just endure it from her father, but from no one else.She was, besides, too young yet to have learned even the meaning of the word humility.Had Charles Osmond been a few years younger, she would not even have listened to him.As it was, he was a gray-haired man, whom she loved and revered; he was, moreover, a guest.She was very angry with him, but she restrained her anger.
He had watched her attentively while he spoke.She had at first only been surprised; then her anger had been kindled, and she gave him one swift flash from eyes which looked like live coals.Then she turned her face away from him, so that he could only see one crimson cheek.There was a pause after he had said his say.
Presently, with a great effort, Erica faced him once more, and in a manner which would have been dignified had it not been a trifle too frigid, made some casual remark upon a different subject.He saw that to stay longer was mere waste of time.
When the door had closed behind him, Erica's anger blazed up once more.That he should have dared to accuse her of unfairness! That he should have dared actually to rebuke her! If he had given her a good shaking she could not have felt more hurt and ruffled.And then to choose this day of all others, just when life was so hard to her, just when she was condemned to a long imprisonment.It was simply brutal of him! If any one had told her that he would do such a thing she would not have believed them.He had said nothing of the sort to her before, though they had known each other so long; but, now that she was ill and helpless and unable to get away from him, he had seen fit to come and lecture her.Well, he was a parson! She might have known that sooner or later the horrid, tyrannical, priestly side of him would show! And yet she had liked him so much, trusted him so much! It was indescribably bitter to think that he was no longer the hero she had thought him to be.
That, after all, he was not a grand, noble, self-denying man, but a fault-finding priest!
She spent the rest of the afternoon in alternate wrath and grief.
In the evening Aunt Jean read her a somewhat dry book which required all her attention, and, consequently, her anger cooled for want of thoughts to stimulate it.Her father did not come in till late; but, as he carried her upstairs to bed, she told him of Charles Osmond's interview.
"I told him you like a little opposition," was his reply.
"I don't know about opposition, but I didn't like him, he showed his priestly side.""I am sorry," replied Raeburn."For my part I genuinely like the man; he seems to me a grand fellow, and I should have said not in the least spoiled by his Christianity, for he is neither exclusive, nor narrow-minded, nor opposed to progress.Infatuated on one point, of course, but a thorough man in spite of it."Left once more alone in her little attic room, Erica began to think over things more quietly.So her father had told him that she liked opposition, and he had doled out to her a rebuke which was absolutely unanswerable! But why unanswerable? She had been too angry to reply at the time.It was one of the few maxims her father had given her, "When you are angry be very slow to speak."But she might write an answer, a nice, cold, cutting answer, respectful, of course, but very frigid.She would clearly demonstrate to him that she was perfectly fair, and that he, her accuser, was unfair.
And then quite quietly, she began to turn over the accusations in her mind.Quoting the words of Christ without regard to the context, twisting their meaning.Neglecting real study of Christ's character and life.Seeing all through a veil of prejudice.
She would begin, like her father, with a definition of terms.What did he mean by study? What did she mean by study? Well such searching analysis, for instance, as she had applied to the character of Hamlet, when she had had to get up one of Shakespeare's plays for her examination.She had worked very hard at that, had really taken every one of his speeches and soliloquies, and had tried to gather his true character from them as well as from his actions.
At this point she wandered away from the subject a little and began to wonder when she should hear the result of the examination, and to hope that she might get a first.By and by she came to herself with a sudden and very uncomfortable shock.If the sort of work she had given to Hamlet was study, HAD she ever studied the character of Christ?
