按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
n；〃 but 〃I AM the Resurrection。〃 And yet； according to her father； his humility had been excessive； carried almost to a fault。 Was he the most inconsistent man that ever lived； or what was he？ At last she thought she would get up and see whether there was any qualifying context； and when and where he had uttered this tremendous saying。
Lighting her candle； she crept； a little shivering； white…robed figure； round the book…lined room； scanning the titles on every shelf； but bibles were too much in use in that house to be relegated to the attics； she found only the least interesting and least serviceable of her father's books。 There was nothing for it but to go down to the study； so wrapping herself up； for it was a freezing winter's night； she went noiselessly downstairs； and soon found every possible facility for Biblical research。
A little baffled and even disappointed to find the words in that which she regarded as the least authentic of the gospels； she still resolved to read the account； she read it； indeed； in two or three translations； and compared each closely with the others； but in all the words stood out in uncompromising greatness of assertion。 This man claimed to BE the resurrection； of as Wyclif had it； 〃the agen risying and lyf。〃
And then poor Erica read on to the end of the story and was quite thrown back upon herself by the account of the miracle which followed。 It was a beautiful story； she said to herself； poetically written； graphically described； but as to believing it to be true； she could as soon have accepted the 〃Midsummer Night's Dream〃 as having actually taken place。
Shivering with cold she put the books back on their shelf； and stole upstairs once more to bear her comfortless sorrow as best she could。
CHAPTER VIII。 〃Why Do You Believe It？〃
Then the round of weary duties； cold and formal； came to meet her； With the life within departed that had given them each a soul； And her sick heart even slighted gentle words that came to greet her； For grief spread its shadowy pinions like a blight upon the whole。 A。 A。 Proctor
The winter sunshine which glanced in a side…long； half…and…half way into Persecution Alley； and struggled in at the closed blinds of Erica's little attic； streamed unchecked into a far more cheerful room in Guilford Square； and illumined a breakfast table； at which was seated one occupant only； apparently making a late and rather hasty meal。 He was a man of about eight…and…twenty； and though he was not absolutely good…looking； his face was one which people turned to look at again； not so much because it was in any way striking as far as features went； but because of an unusual luminousness which pervaded it。 The eyes； which were dark gray； were peculiarly expressive； and their softness； which might to some have seemed a trifle unmasculine； was counterbalanced by the straight； dark； noticeable eyebrows； as well as by a thoroughly manly bearing and a general impression of unfailing energy which characterized the whole man。 His hair； short beard； and mustache were of a deep nut…brown。 He was of medium height and very muscular looking。
On the whole it was as pleasant a face as you would often meet with； and it was not to be wondered at that his old grandmother looked up pretty frequently from her arm chair by the fire； and watched him with that beautiful loving pride which in the aged never seems exaggerated and very rarely misplaced。
〃You were out very late； were you not； Brian？〃 she observed； letting her knitting needles rest for a minute； and scrutinizing the rather weary…looking man。
〃Till half…past five this morning；〃 he replied； in a somewhat preoccupied voice。
There was a sad look in his eyes； too； which his grandmother partly understood。 She knitted another round of her sock and then said：
〃Have you seen Tom Craigie yet？〃
〃Yes； last night I came across him；〃 replied Brian。 〃He told me she had come home。 They traveled by night and got in early yesterday morning。〃
〃Poor little thing！〃 sighed old Mrs。 Osmond。 〃What a home…coming it must have been？〃
〃Grannie；〃 said Brian； pushing back his chair and drawing nearer to the fire 〃I want you to tell me what I ought to do。 I have a message to her from her mother； there was no one else to take it； you know； except the landlady； and I suppose she did not like that。 I want to know when I might see her； one has no right to keep it back； and yet how am I to know whether she is fit to bear it？ I can't write it down； it won't somehow go on to paper； yet I can hardly ask to see her。〃
〃We cannot tell that the message might not comfort her；〃 said Mrs。 Osmond。 Then； after a few minutes' thought she added： 〃I think； Brian； if I were you； I would write her a little note； tell her why you want to see her； and let her fix her own time。 You will leave it entirely in her own hands in that way。〃
He mused for a minute； seemed satisfied with the suggestion； and moving across to the writing table； began his first letter to his love。 Apparently it was hard to write； for he wasted several sheets and much time that he could ill afford。 When it was at length finished； it ran as follows：
〃Dear Miss Raeburn；I hardly like to ask to see you yet for fear you should think me intrusive； but a message was entrusted to me on Tuesday night which I dare not of myself keep back from you。 Will you see me？ If you are able to； and will name the time which will suit you best； I shall be very grateful。 Forgive me for troubling you； and believe me； Yours faithfully； Brian Osmond。〃
He sent it off a little doubtfully； by no means satisfied that he had done a wise thing。 But when he returned from his rounds later in the day the reply set his fears at rest。
It was written lengthways across a sheet of paper； the small delicate writing was full of character； but betrayed great physical exhaustion。
〃It is good of you to think of us。 Please come this afternoon if you are able。 Erica。〃
That very afternoon！ Now that his wish was granted； now that he was indeed to see her； Brian would have given worlds to have postponed the meeting。 He was well accustomed to visiting sorrow…stricken people； but from meeting such sorrow as that in the Raeburns' house he shrunk back feeling his insufficiency。 Besides； what words were delicate enough to convey all that had passed in that death scene？ How could he dare to attempt in speech all that the dying mother would fain have had conveyed to her child？ And then his own love！ Would not that be the greatest difficulty of all？ Feeling her grief as he did； could he yet modify his manner to suit that of a mere outsideralmost a stranger？ He was very diffident； though longing to see Erica； he would yet have given anything to be able to transfer his work to his father。 This； however； was of course impossible。
Strange though it might seem； hethe most unsuitable of all men in his own eyeswas the man singled out to bear this message； to go to the death…visited household。 He went about his afternoon work in a sort of steady； mechanical manner； the outward veil of his inward agitation。 About four o'clock he was free to go to Guilford Terrace。
He was shown into the little sitting room； it was the room in which Mrs。 Raeburn had died； and the mere sight of the outer surroundings； the well…worn furniture； the book…lined walls made the whole scene vividly present to him。 The room was empty； there was a blazing fire but no other light； for the blinds were down； and even the winter twilight shut out。 Brian sat down and waited。 Presently the door opened； he looked up and saw Erica approaching him。 She was taller than she had been when he last saw her； and now grief had given her a peculiar dignity which made her much more like her father。 Every shade of color had left her face； her eyes wee full of a limitless pain； the eyelids were slightly reddened； but apparently rather from sleeplessness than from tears； the whole face was so altered that a mere casual acquaintance would hardly have recognized it； except by the unchanged waves of short auburn hair which still formed the setting as it were to a picture lovely even now。 Only one thing was unchanged； and that was the frank； unconventional manner。 Even in her grief she could not be quite like other people。
〃It is very good of you to let me see you；〃 said Brian； 〃you are sure you are doing right； it will not be too much for you today。〃
〃There is no great difference in says； I think；〃 said Erica； sitting down on a low chair beside the fire。 〃I do not very much believe in degrees in this kind of grief。 I do not see why it should be ever more or ever less。 Perhaps I am wrong； it is all new to me。〃
She spoke in a slow； steady； low…toned voice。 There was an absolute hopelessness about her whole aspect which was terrible to see。 A moment's pause followed； then； looking up at Brian； she fancied that she read in his face； something of hesitation； of a consciousness that he could ill express what he wished to say； and her innate courtesy made her even now hasten to relieve him。
〃Don't be afraid of speaking；〃 she said； a softer light coming into her eyes。 〃I don't know why people shrink from meeting trouble。 Even Tom is