第78章 What it Involved (4)

Now, for two or three days Erica had been enduring Tom's coldness and Mrs.Craigie's unceasing remonstrances; all the afternoon she had been having a long and painful discussion with her friend, Mrs.

MacNaughton; this evening she had seen plainly enough what her position would be for the future among all her old acquaintances, and an aching sense of isolation filled her heart.She was just going to run upstairs and yield to her longing for darkness and quiet, when Tom called her back.She could not refuse to hear, for the coldness of her old playmate had made her very sad, but she turned back rather reluctantly, for her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Don't go," said Tom, quite in his natural voice."Have you any coffee for me, or did the old fogies finish it?"Erica went back to the table and poured him out a cup of coffee, but her hand trembled, and, before she could prevent it, down splashed a great tear into the saucer.

"Come!" said Tom, cheerfully."Don't go and spoil my coffee with salt water! All very well for David, in a penitential psalm, to drink tears, but in the nineteenth century, you know--"Erica began to laugh at this, a fatal proceeding, for afterward came a great sob, and the tears came down in good earnest.

Philosophical Tom always professed great contempt for tears, and he knew that Erica must be very much moved indeed to cry in his presence, or, indeed, to cry at all; for, as he expressed it: "It was not in her line." But somehow, when for the first time he saw her cry, he did not feel contemptuous; instead, he began to call himself a "hard-hearted brute," and a narrow-minded fool, and to feel miserable and out of conceit with himself.

"I say, Erica, don't cry," he pleaded."Don't, I say, I can't bear to see you.I've been a cold-blooded wretch I'm awfully sorry!""It's very cowardly of me," sobbed Erica."But--but--"with a rush of tears, "you don't know how I love you all it's like being killed by inches.""You're not cowardly," said Tom, warmly."You've been brave and plucky; I only wish it were in a better cause.Look here, Erica, only stop crying, and promise me that you'll not take this so dreadfully to heart.I'll stand by you I will, indeed, even though I hate your cause.But it sha'n't come between us any longer, the hateful delusion has spoiled enough lives already.It sha'n't spoil ours.""Oh, don't!" cried Erica, wounded anew by this.

"Well," said Tom, gulping down his longing to inveigh against Christianity, "it goes hard with me not to say a word against the religion that has brought us all our misery, but for your sake I'll try not when talking with you.Now let us begin again on the old footing.""Not quite on the old footing either," said Erica, who had conquered her tears."I love you a thousand times more, you dear old Tom."And Tom, who was made of sterling stuff, did from that day forward stand by her through everything, and checked himself when harsh words about religious matters rose to his lips, and tried his best to smooth what could not fail to be a rough bit of walking.

The first meeting between Charles Osmond and Erica, after her return from Codrington, did not come about till the morning after her conversation with Tom.They had each called on the other, but had somehow managed to miss.When at length Erica was shown into the study, connected in her mind with so many warm discussions, she found it empty.She sat down in the great arm chair by the window, wondering if she were indeed the same Erica who had sat there years before, on the day when her "prophet" had foretold her illness.

What changes had come about since then!

But her "Prophet" was unchanged, his brisk, "Well Erica!" was exactly what it had been when she had come to him in the days of her atheism.It had always been full of welcome and sympathy, and now the only difference was that a great happiness shone in his eyes as he came forward with his soft, steady tread and took her hand in both his.

They sat silent for awhile, then talked a little but reservedly, for both felt that the subject which filled their thoughts was at once too sacred and too personal to be altogether put into words.

Then by and by they began to discuss the practical consequences of the change, and especially the great difficulty as to Erica's means of supporting herself.

"Could you not try teaching?" said Charles Osmond.

"The market is already overstocked."

"True, but I should think that your brains and certificates ought to secure you work in spite of that.""I should like it in many ways," said Erica, "but, you see, except at the night school it is out of the question, and I could not live upon my grant even if every one of my class passed the examination.

For any other sort of teaching who do you imagine would have the courage to employ any one bearing the name of Raeburn? Why, Ican't give an order in a shop without being looked all over by the person who takes the address.No, governessing would be all very well if one might assume a nom de guerre, but that would not do, you see.""You couldn't find work of that sort among your own set, Isuppose?"

"Not now," said Erica."You see, naturally enough, I am very much out of favor with them all.""Falling between two stools," said Charles Osmond, half to himself.

"But don't lose heart, Erica: 'A stone that is fit for the wall will not be left in the way;' there is work for you somewhere.By the way, I might see old Crutchley he knows all the literary folk, and might get you an introduction to some one, at any rate."Just as Erica was leaving Brian came in from his rounds, and they met at the door.Had he known her trouble and perplexity as to work, no power on earth could have induced him to keep silence any longer; but he knew nothing.She looked a little pale, but that was natural enough, and in her eyes he could see a peace which he had never seen there before.Then deep unselfish happiness filled his heart again, and Erica recognized in his greeting a great deal more than an ordinary by-stander would have seen.She went away feeling bettered by that handclasp.

"That is a downright good man!" she thought to herself."Perhaps by the time he's fifty-five, he'll be almost equal to his father."