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r eye。 All at once her benumbed faculties regained their power； her heart began to beat wildly； for there； in clearest print； in short； choppy； unequivocal sentences； was the hideous fear which she had contrived so long to banish。
〃Mr。 Raeburn is dying。 The bulletins have daily been growing less and less hopeful。 Yesterday doctor R______； who had been called in； could only confirm the unfavorable opinion of the other doctors。 In all probability the days of the great apostle of atheism are numbered。 It rests with the Hyde Park rioters； and those who by word and example have incited them； to bear the responsibility of making a martyr of such a man as Mr。 Luke Raeburn。 Emphatically disclaiming the slightest sympathy with Mr。 Raeburn's religious views； we yet〃
But Erica could read no more。 Whatever modicum of charity the writer ventured to put forth was lost upon her。 The opening sentence danced before her eyes in letters of fire。 That morning she met Brian in the passage and drew him into the sitting room。 He saw at once how it was with her。
〃Look；〃 she said； holding the newspaper toward him； 〃is that true？ Or is it only a sensation trap or written for party purposes？〃
Her delicate lips were closed with their hardest expression； her eyes only looked grave and questioning。 She watched his face as he read； lost her last hope； and with the look of such anguish as he had never before seen； drew the paper from him； and caught his hand in hers in wild entreaty。
〃Oh； Brian； Brian！ Is there no hope？ Surely you can do something for him。 There MUST be hope； he is so strong； so full of life。〃
He struggled hard for voice and words to answer her； but the imploring pressure of her hands on his had nearly unnerved him。 Already the grief that kills lurked in her eyes he knew that if her father died she would not long survive him。
〃Don't say what is untrue；〃 she continued。 〃 Don't let me drive you into telling a lie but only tell me if there is indeed no hope no chance。〃
〃It may be；〃 said Brian。 〃You must not expect； for those far wiser than I say it can not be。 But I hope yes； I still hope。〃
On that crumb of comfort she lived； but it was a weary day； and for the first time she noticed that her father； who was free from fever； followed her everywhere with his eyes。 She knew intuitively that he thought himself dying。
Toward evening she was sitting beside him； slowly drawing her fingers through his thick masses of snow…white hair in the way he liked best； when he looked suddenly right into her eyes with his own strangely similar ones； deep； earnest eyes； full now of a sort of dumb yearning。
〃Little son Eric；〃 he said； faintly； 〃you will go on with the work I am leaving。〃
〃Yes； father；〃 she replied firmly； though her heart felt as if it would break。
〃A harmful delusion；〃 he murmured； half to himself； 〃taking up our best men！ Swallowing up the money of the people。 What's that singing； Erica？〃
〃It is the children in the hospital；〃 she replied。 〃I'll shut the window if they disturb you； father。〃
〃No； 〃 he said。 〃One can tolerate the delusion for them if it makes their pain more bearable。 Poor bairns！ Poor bairns！ Pain is an odd mystery。〃
He drew down her hand and held it in his； seeming to listen to the singing； which floated in clearly through the open window at right angles with the back windows of the hospital。 Neither of them knew what the hymn was； but the refrain which came after every verse as if even the tinies were joining in it was quite audible to Luke Raeburn and his daughter；
〃Through life's long day； and death's dark night； Oh； gentle Jesus； be our light。〃
Erica's breath came in gasps。 To be reminded then that life was long and that death was dark！
She thought she had never prayed； she had never consciously prayed； but her whole life for the past three years had been an unspoken prayer。 Never was there a more true desire entirely unexpressed than the desire which now seemed to possess her whole being。 The darkness would soon hide forever the being she most loved。 Oh； if she could but honestly think that He who called Himself the Light of the world was indeed still living； still ready to help！
But to allow her distress to gain the mastery over her would certainly disturb and grieve her father。 With a great effort she stifled the sobs which would rise in her throat； and waited in rigid stillness。 When the last notes of the hymn had died away into silence； she turned to look at her father。 He had fallen asleep。
CHAPTER XVIII。 Answered or Unanswered？
〃Glory to God to God！〃 he saith； 〃Knowledge by suffering entereth； And life is perfected by death。〃 E。 B。 Browning
〃Mr。 Raeburn is curiously like the celebrated dog of nursery lore； who appertained to the ancient and far…famed Mother Hubbard。 All the doctors gave him up； all the secularists prepared mourning garments； the printers were meditating black borders for the 'Idol…Breaker；' the relative merits of burial and cremation were already in discussion； when the dog we beg pardon the leader of atheism； came to life again。
〃'She went to the joiners to buy him a coffin； But when she came back the dog was laughing。'
〃History；〃 as a great man was fond of remarking； 'repeats itself。'〃
Raeburn laughed heartily over the accounts of his recovery in the comic papers。 No one better appreciated the very clever representation of himself as a huge bull…dog starting up into life while Britannia in widow's weeds brought in a parish coffin。 Erica would hardly look at the thing； she had suffered too much to be able to endure any jokes on the subject； and she felt hurt and angry that what had given her such anguish should be turned into a foolish jest。
At length； after many weeks of weary anxiety； she was able to breathe freely once more； for her father steadily regained his strength。 The devotion of her whole time and strength and thought to another had done wonders for her； her character had strangely deepened and mellowed。 But no sooner was she free to begin her ordinary life than new perplexities beset her on every side。
During her own long illness she had of course been debarred from attending any lectures or meetings whatever。 In the years following； before she had quite regained her strength； she had generally gone to hear her father； but had never become again a regular attendant at the lecture hall。 Now that she was quite well； however； there was nothing to prevent her attending as many lectures as she pleased； and naturally； her position as Luke Raeburn's daughter made her presence desirable。 So it came to pass one Sunday evening in July that she happened to be present at a lecture given by a Mr。 Masterman。
He was a man whom they knew intimately。 Erica liked him sufficiently well in private life； and he had been remarkably kind and helpful at the time of her father's illness。 It was some years； however； since she had heard him lecture； and this evening； by the virulence of his attack on the character of Christ； he revealed to her how much her ground had shifted since she had last heard him。 It was not that he was an opponent of existing Christianity her father was that； she herself was that； and felt bound to be as long as she considered it a lie but Mr。 Masterman's attack seemed to her grossly unfair； almost willfully inaccurate； and； in addition； his sarcasm and pleasantries seemed to her odiously vulgar。 He was answered by a most miserable representative of Christianity； who made a foolish； weak； blustering speech； and tried to pay the atheist back in his own coin。 Erica felt wretched。 She longed to get up and speak herself； longing flatly to contradict the champion of her own cause； then grew frightened at the strength of her feelings。 Could this be mere love of fair play and justice？ Was her feeling merely that of a barrister who would argue as well on one side as the other？ And yet her displeasure in itself proved little or nothing。 Would not Charles Osmond be displeased and indignant if he heard her father unjustly spoken of？ Yes； but then Luke Raeburn was a living man； and Christ was she even sure that he had ever lived？ Well； yes； sure of that； but of how much more？
When the assembly broke up； her mind was in a miserable chaos of doubt。
It was one of those delicious summer evenings when even in East London the skies are mellow and the air sweet and cool。
〃Oh； Tom； let us walk home！〃 she exclaimed； longing for change of scene and exercise。
〃All right；〃 he replied； 〃I'll take you a short cut； if you don't mind a few back slums to begin with。〃
Now Erica was familiar enough with the sight of poverty and squalor； she had not lived at the West End； where you may entirely forget the existence of the poor。 The knowledge of evil had come to her of necessity much earlier than to most girls； and tonight； as Tom took her through a succession of narrow streets and dirty courts； misery； and vice； and hopeless degradation met her on every side。 Swarms of filthy little children wrangled and fought in the gutters； drunken women shouted foul language at one another everywhere was wickedness everywhere want。 Her heart felt as if it would break。 What was to reach the