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Updated: June 19, 2025
"And what's more, I won't, as Uncle Luke has asked me to stay." Erica felt very uncomfortable; she could have spoken decidedly had she been alone with any of the three, but she could not, before them all, say: "Mr. Fane-Smith thinks father an incarnation of wickedness and would be horrified if he knew that you were here." Tom had in the meantime walked to the window and drawn aside the curtain.
Fane-Smith, leading Erica across a marble-paved hall, and even as she spoke a merry voice came from the staircase, and down ran a fair-haired girl, with a charmingly eager and naive manner.
Fane-Smith wished her goodbye with a sort of affectionate relief; then Donovan helped her into the pony carriage, and drove briskly off through the Greyshot streets. "That is the place where I first heard your father," he said, indicating with his whip the town Hall. "It must be sixteen years ago; I was quite a young fellow." "Sixteen years!
Fane-Smith, who had just joined them, took note of this answer, and it seemed to surprise and displease him, though he made no remark. "Did he think that atheists didn't wear socks? Or that their daughters couldn't knit?" thought Erica to herself, with a little resentful inward laugh. The fact was that Mr.
"You promised to renounce the devil and all his works." "I did." "Then how can you hesitate to renounce everything connected with your former life?" "Do you mean to imply that my father is the devil or one of his works?" Mr. Fane-Smith was silent. Erica continued: "God's Fatherhood does not depend on our knowledge of it, or acceptance of it, it is a fact a truth!
Being convinced of this when I was still young, I had to find some other system to take its place. That system I found in secularism. For thirty years I have lived as a secularist and have been perfectly content notwithstanding that my life has been a very hard one. As a secularist I now die content." Mr. Fane-Smith shuddered. This was of course inexpressibly painful to him.
In reality, he was taking in every particular about Erica. He looked at her broad forehead, overshadowed by the thick smooth waves of short auburn hair, observed her golden-brown eyes which were just now as clear as amber; noted the creamy whiteness and delicate coloring of her complexion, which indeed defied criticism even the criticism of such a critical man as Mr. Fane-Smith.
"You forget to whom you are speaking," she said quickly. "You forget that this is my father's house!" "I would give a good deal to be able to forget," said Mr. Fane-Smith. "I have tried to deal kindly with you, tried to take you from this accursed place, and you repay me by tempting Rose to stay with you!" Erica had recovered herself by this time.
She had lived all her life with people who were overwhelmed with work, and in a home where recreation was only the rare concession to actual health. Here recreation seemed to be the business of life, while work for the public was merely tacked on as a sort of ornamental fringe. Mr. Fane-Smith had, indeed, a few committee meetings to attend; Mrs.
Thank God there is a punishment which no one would wish to forego, such punishment, such drawing forth of the native good, such careful help in the rooting out of what is evil as all good fathers give to their children." They were interrupted by the opening of the door. Mr. Fane-Smith started and almost trembled when, on turning round, he saw Erica.
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