"Why, my little girl," he said, tenderly."You are trembling all over.What is the matter?""The matter is that what I have to say will pain you, and it half kills me to do that.But there is no choice tell you I must.You would not wish me not to be true, not to be honest."Utter perplexity filled Raeburn's mind.What phantom trouble was threatening him? Had she been commissioned to tell him of some untoward event? Some business calamity? Had she fallen in love with some one he could not permit her to marry? He looked questioningly at her, but her expression only perplexed him still more; she was trembling no longer, and her eyes were clear and bright, there was a strong look about her whole face.
"Father," she said, quietly, "I have learned to believe in Jesus Christ."He wrenched away his arm; he started back from her as if she had stabbed him.For a minute he looked perfectly dazed.
At last, after a silence which seemed to each of them age-long, he spoke in the agitated voice of one who has just received a great blow.
"Do you know what you are saying, Erica? Do you know what such a confession as you have made will involve? Do you mean that you accept the whole of Christ's teaching?
"Yes," she replied, firmly, "I do."
"You intend to turn Christian?"
"Yes, to try to."
"How long have you and Mr.Osmond been concocting this?""I don't know what you mean," said Erica, terribly wounded by his tone.
"Did he send you down here to tell me?"
"Mr.Osmond knows nothing about it," said Erica."How could I tell any one before you, father?"Raeburn was touched by this.He took several turns up and down the room before speaking again, but the more he grasped the idea the deeper grew his grief and the hotter his anger.He was a man of iron will, however, and he kept both under.When at length he did speak, his voice was quiet and cold and repressed.
"Sit down," he said, motioning her to a chair."This is not a subject that we can dismiss in five minutes' talk.I must hear your reasons.We will put aside all personal considerations.Iwill consider you just as an ordinary opponent."His coldness chilled her to the heart.Was it always to be like this? How could she possibly endure it? How was she to answer his questions how was she to vindicate her faith when the mere tone of his voice seemed to paralyze her heart? He was indeed treating her with the cold formality of an opponent, but never for a single instant could she forget that he was her father the being she loved best in the whole world.
But Erica was brave and true; she knew that this was a crisis in their lives, and, thrusting down her own personal pain, she forced herself to give her whole heart and mind to the searching and perplexing questions with which her father intended to test the reality of her convictions.Had she been unaccustomed to his mode of attack he would have hopelessly silenced her, as far as argument goes in half an hour; but not only was Erica's faith perfectly real, but she had, as it were, herself traversed the whole of his objections and difficulties.Though far from imagining that she understood everything, she had yet so firmly grasped the innermost truth that all details as yet outside her vision were to her no longer hindrances and bugbears, but so many new possibilities other hopes of fresh manifestations of God.
She held her ground well, and every minute Raeburn realized more keenly that whatever hopes he had entertained of reconvincing her were futile.What made it all the more painful to him was that the thoroughness of the training he had given her now only told against him, and the argument which he carried on in a cold, metallic voice was really piercing his very heart, for it was like arguing against another self, the dearest part of himself gone over to the enemy's side.
At last he saw that argument was useless, and then, in his grief and despair, he did for a time lose his self-control.Erica had often felt sorry for the poor creatures who had to bear the brunt of her father's scathing sarca**.But platform irony was a trifle to the torrent which bore down upon her today.When a strong man does lose his restraint upon himself, the result is terrific.
Raeburn had never sufficiently cared for an adversary as to be moved beyond an anger which could be restricted and held within due bounds; he of course cared more for the success of his cause and his own dignity.But now his love drove him to despair; his intolerable grief at the thought of having an opponent in his own child burst all restraining bonds.Wounded to the quick, he who had never in his life spoken a harsh word to his child now poured forth such a storm of anger, and sarca**, and bitter reproach, as might have made even an uninterested by-stander tremble.
Had Erica made any appeal, had she even begun to cry, his chivalry would have been touched; he would have recognized her weakness, and regained his self control.But she was not weak, she was strong she was his other self gone over to the opposite side; that was what almost maddened him.The torrent bore down upon her, and she spoke not a word, but just sat still and endured.Only, as the words grew more bitter and more wounding, her lips grew white, her hands were locked more tightly together.At last it ended.
"You have cheated yourself into this belief," said Raeburn, "you have given me the most bitter grief and disappointment of my whole life.Have you anything else you wish to say to me?""Nothing," replied Erica, not daring to venture more; for, if she had tried to speak, she knew she must have burst into tears.
But there was as much pain expressed in her voice as she spoke that one word as there had been in all her father's outburst.It appealed to him at once.He said no more, but stepped out of the French window, and began to pace to an fro under the veranda.
