第66章 At The Museum (1)

Methought I heard one calling: "Child,"And I replied: 'My Lord!'"

George Herbert A favorite pastime with country children is to watch the gradual growth of the acorn into the oak tree.They will suspend the acorn in a glass of water and watch the slow progress during long months.

First one tiny white thread is put forth, then another, until at length the glass is almost filled with a tangle of white fibers, a sturdy little stem raises itself up, and the baby tree, if it is to live, must be at once transplanted into good soil.The process may be botanically interesting, but there is something a little sickly about it, too there is a feeling that, after all, the acorn would have done better in its natural ground hidden away in darkness.

And, if we have this feeling with regard to vegetable growth, how much more with regard to spiritual growth! To attempt to set up the gradually awakening spirit in an apparatus where it might be the observed of all observers would be at once repulsive and presumptuous.Happily, it is impossible.We may trace influences and suggestions, just as we may note the rain or drought, the heat or cold that affect vegetable growth, but the actual birth is ever hidden.

To attempt even to shadow forth Erica's growth during the next year would be worse than presumptuous.As to her outward life it was not greatly changed, only intensified.October always began their busiest six months.There was the night school at which she was able to work again indefatigably.There were lectures to be attended.Above all there was an ever-increasing amount of work to be done for her father.In all the positive and constructive side of secularism, in all the efforts made by it to better humanity, she took an enthusiastic share.Naturally she did not see so much of Charles Osmond now that she was strong again.In the press of business, in the hard, every-day life there was little time for discussion.They met frequently, but never for one of their long tete-a-tetes.Perhaps Erica purposely avoided them.She was strangely different now from the little impetuous girl who had come to his study years ago, trembling with anger at the lady superintendent's insult.Insults had since then, alas, become so familiar to her, that she had acquired a sort of patient dignity of endurance, infinitely sad to watch in such a young girl.

One morning in early June, just a year after the memorable Hyde Park meeting, Charles Osmond happened to be returning from the death bed of one of his parishioners when, at the corner of Guilford Square, he met Erica.It might have been in part the contrast with the sad and painful scene he had just quitted, but he thought she had never before looked so beautiful.Her face seemed to have taken to itself the freshness and the glow of the summer morning.

"You are early abroad," he said, feeling older and grayer and more tired than ever as he paused to speak to her.

"I am off to the museum to read," she said, "I like to get there by nine, then you don't have to wait such an age for your books; Ican't bear waiting."

"What are you at work upon now?"

"Oh, today for the last time I am going to hunt up particulars about Livingstone.Hazeldine was very anxious that a series of papers on his life should be written for our people.What a grand fellow he was!""I heard a characteristic anecdote of him the other day," said Charles Osmond."He was walking beside one of the African lakes which he had discovered, when suddenly there dawned on him a new meaning to long familiar words: 'The blood of Christ,' he exclaimed.'That must be Charity! The blood of Christ that must be Charity!' A beautiful thought, too seldom practically taught."Erica looked grave.

"Characteristic, certainly, of his broad-heartedness, but I don't think that anecdote will do for the readers of the 'Idol-Breaker.'"Then, looking up at Charles Osmond, she added in a rather lower tone: "Do you know, I had no idea when I began what a difficult task I had got.I thought in such an active life as that there would be little difficulty in keeping the religious part away from the secular, but it is wonderful how Livingstone contrives to mix them up.""You see, if Christianity be true, it must, as you say, 'mix up'

with everything.There should be no rigid distinction between secular and religious," said Charles Osmond.

"If it is true," said Erica, suddenly, and with seeming irrelevance, "then sooner or later we must learn it to be so.

Truth MUST win in the end.But it is worse to wait for perfect certainty than for books at the museum," she added, laughing."It is five minutes to nine I shall be late."Charles Osmond walked home thoughtfully; the meeting had somehow cheered him.

"Absolute conviction that truth must out that truth must make itself perceptible.I've not often come across a more beautiful faith than that.Yes, little Undine, right you are.'Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.' Here or there, here or there "'All things come round to him who will but wait.'

There's one for yourself, Charles Osmond.None of your hurrying and meddling now, old man; you've just got to leave it to your betters."Soliloquizing after this fashion he reached home, and was not sorry to find his breakfast awaiting him, for he had been up the greater part of the night.