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She wished above all things to win her niece's love and confidence, and she wisely reserved her proposal as to the matter of a home for another time. It was necessary, however, that she should give Erica a hint as to the topics likely to irritate Mr. Fane-Smith. "I think, dear," she began, "it would be as well if, when my husband and Rose are present, you are careful not to speak of your father.
Fane-Smith, on the other hand, though convinced that the motto of all atheists was "Let us eat and drink for tomorrow we die," criticized his food almost as severely as he criticized human beings. The mulligatawny was not to his taste. The curry was too not.
Was this hot-tempered Erica? That Mr. Fane-Smith's words were hurting her very much he could see; he guessed, too, that the consciousness that he, a secularist, was looking on at this unfortunate display of Christian intolerance, added a sting to her grief. "It is useless to profess Christianity," stormed Mr. Fane-Smith, "if you openly encourage infidelity by consorting with these blasphemers.
Fane-Smith found herself on her way to Lady Caroline's; but her developing breadth of view was destined to receive a severe shock. They were the last guests to arrive, and at the very moment of their entrance Lady Caroline was talking in her most vivacious way to Mr. Cuthbert, a young clergyman, the vicar of one of the Greyshot churches. "I am going to give you a treat, Mr.
Which of them can show one grain of love for the race, to set against my father's life of absolute devotion? They sit over their champagne and slander atheists, and then have the face to call themselves Christians." "My dear!" said Mrs. Fane-Smith, nervously. "Our only wish is to do what is best for you; but you are too tired and excited to discuss this now. I will wish you good night."
Fane-Smith colored, and at once made the move to go. On the plea of fetching some work, Erica escaped to her own room, and there tried to cool her cheeks and her temper; but the idea of such a man as Mr. Fane-Smith sitting in judgment on such men as Mr. Farrant and Charles Osmond had thoroughly roused her, and she went down still in a dangerous state a touch would make her anger blaze up.
"Mamma always thinks I am going to die if I'm at all out of sorts," she remarked, when Mrs. Fane-Smith had left the room to write to the doctor. "I believe you want doctoring much more than I do. What is the matter? You are as white as a sheet!" "I am tired and rather worried, and my back is troublesome," said Erica. "Then you'll just lie down on my sofa," said Rose, peremptorily.
Erica, standing up straight and tall in her velveteen dress, with a white shawl half thrown back from her shoulders, looked to her aunt terribly dignified and uncompromising. "I can't say that I thought them courteous," she replied. "It was altogether unfortunate," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, hurriedly. "I hoped your name would not transpire; I ought to have suggested the change to you before, but "
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.
Where was the sense of restful unity which she had looked forward to? The new atmosphere felt strange, the new order of life this luxurious easy life was hard to comprehend. To add to her dislike Mr. Fane-Smith was something of an epicure and had a most fastidious palate.
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