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Updated: May 19, 2025
It shut so very firmly and the under lip was a little thinner and straighter than the other and receded a little from it, giving the impression that Erica had borne much suffering, and had exercised great self-restraint. Mrs. Fane-Smith saw in her a sort of miniature and feminine edition of the Luke Raeburn whom she remembered eight-and-twenty years before in their Scottish home.
Fane-Smith had time to fritter away at least half an hour after breakfast in the most desultory conversation, the most fruitless discussions with Rose as to some detail of dress; but she always made the excuse that she "had no time" to read the papers, and amused Erica not a little by asking her husband if "anything particular had been happening lately," when they were just starting for a dinner party.
At length the dreary repast came to an end, and she had just taken up a newspaper, with a sort of gasp of relief at the thought of escaping for a moment into a larger world, when she was recalled to the narrow circle of Greyshot by a word from Mr. Fane-Smith. "I wish to have a talk with you, my dear; will you come to the library at ten o'clock?" An interview by appointment!
And after that he only spoke to Erica, who, seeing that the chemist had annoyed him undertook all the fetching and carrying, never once shrinking though the sight was a horrible one. At length the footman brought word that Mrs. Fane-Smith was waiting, and she was obliged to go, reluctantly enough. "You'll let me know how he gets on?" she said.
"Is that the clergyman you told me of?" interposed Mrs. Fane-Smith, anxious to turn the conversation. But her husband threw in a question, too. "What, Charles Osmond, do you mean the author of 'Essays on Modern Christianity?" "Yes," replied Erica. "I don't know that he is much more orthodox than Mr. Farrant," said Mr. Fane-Smith; "I consider that he has Noetian tendencies."
"Least of all to one who has adopted the religion which Miss Fane-Smith has been brought up in a religion which of necessity debases and degrades its votaries." Her eyes filled with tears, but she new that Christianity would in this case be better vindicated by silence than by words however eloquent. She just kissed him and wished him good night. But as she reached the door, his heart smote him.
"Not a word has been said of that miserable Sunday since though I'm afraid a good deal has been thought. After all, you know, there was a ludicrous side to it as well. I shall never forget the look of them all when Rose and I came down again: Mr. Fane-Smith standing there by the table, the very incarnation of contemptuous anger, and father just here, looking like a tired thunder cloud!
Cuthbert had certainly got his malicious wish; he had succeeded in making Mrs. Fane-Smith miserable, in making his hostess furious, in putting his little neighbor into the most uncomfortable of positions. Of course he was not going to demean himself by talking to "that atheist's daughter."
"My dear Erica," said Mr. Fane-Smith, feeling his theological arguments worsted, "we must discuss this matter on practical grounds. In plain words, your father is a very bad man, and you ought to have nothing more to do with him." Erica's lips turned white with anger; but she answered, calmly: "That is a very great accusation. How do you know it is true?" "I know it well enough," said Mr.
He took no notice whatever of Raeburn, but went straight up to Rose. "Go and put on your things at once," he said; "I have come to take you home." "Oh, papa," began Rose, "how you " "Not a word, Rose. Go and dress, and don't keep me waiting." Erica, with a vain hope of making Mr. Fane-Smith behave at least civilly, came forward and shook hands with him.
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