And then, all at once, there flashed into her mind M.Noirol's teasing suggestion that she should go to Paris.Here was a way in which, free of all expense, she might finish her education, might practically earn her living! In this way she might indeed help to lighten the load, but it would be at the cost of absolute self-sacrifice.She must leave home, and father and mother, and country!
Erica was not exactly selfish, but she was very young.The thought of the voluntary sacrifice seemed quite unbearable, she could not make up her mind to it.
"Why should I give up all this? Why should prejudice and bigotry spoil my whole life?" she thought, beginning to pace up and down the room with quick, agitated steps."Why should we suffer because that wretch has gone bankrupt? It is unfair, unjust, it can't be right."She leaned her arms on the window sill and looked out into the silent night.The stars were shining peacefully enough, looking down on this world of strife and struggle; Erica grew a little calmer as she looked; Nature, with its majesty of calmness, seemed to quiet her troubled heart and "sweep gradual-gospels in."From some recess of memory there came to her some half-enigmatical words; they had been quoted by Charles Osmond in his speech, but she did not remember where she had heard them, only they began to ring in her ears now:
"There is no gain except by loss, There is no life except by death, Nor glory but by bearing shame, Nor justice but by taking blame."She did not altogether understand the verse, but there was a truth in it which could hardly fail to come home to one who knew what persecution meant.What if the very blame and injustice of the present brought in the future reign of justice! She seemed to hear her father's voice saying again, "We must bear up, child; injustice won't triumph in the end.""There is no gain except by loss!"
What if her loss of home and friends brought gain to the world!
That was a thought which brought a glow of happiness to her even in the midst of her pain.There was, after all, much of the highest Christianity about her, though she would have been very much vexed if any one had told her so, because Christianity meant to her narrow-mindedness instead of brotherly love.However it might be, there was no denying that the child of the great teacher of atheism had grasped the true meaning of life, had grasped it, and was prepared to act on it too.She had always lived with those who were ready to spend all in the promotion of the general good; and all that was true, all that was noble in her creed, all that had filled her with admiration in the lives of those she loved, came to her aid now.
She went softly down the dark staircase to Raeburn's study; it was late, and, anxious not to disturb the rest of the house, she opened the door noiselessly and crept in.Her father was sitting at his desk writing; he looked very stern, but there was a sort of grandeur about his rugged face.He was absorbed in his work and did not hear her, and for a minute she stood quite still watching him, realizing with pain and yet with a happy pride how greatly she loved him.Her heart beat fast at the thought of helping him, lightening his load even a little.
"Father," she said, softly.
Raeburn was the sort of a man who could not be startled, but he looked up quickly, apparently returning from some speculative region with a slight effort.He was the most practical of men, and yet for a minute he felt as if he were living in a dream, for Erica stood beside him, pale and beautiful, with a sort of heroic light about her whole face which transformed her from a merry child to a high-souled woman.Instinctively he rose to speak to her.
"I will not disturb you for more than a minute, father," she said, "it is only that I have thought of a way in which I think I could help you if you would let me.""Well, dear, what is it?" said Raeburn, still watching half dreamily the exceeding beauty of the face before him.Yet an undefined sense of dread chilled his heart.Was anything too hard or high for her to propose? He listened without a word to her account of M.Noirol's Parisian scheme, to her voluntary suggestion that she should go into exile for two years.At the end he merely put a brief question."Are you ready to bear two years of loneliness?""I am ready to help you," she said, with a little quiver in her voice and a cloud of pain in her eyes.
Raeburn turned away from her and began to pace up and down the little room, his eyes not altogether free from tears, for, pachydermatous as he was accounted by his enemies, this man was very tender over his child, he could hardly endure to see her pain.
Yet after all, though she had given him a sharp pang, she had brought him happiness which any father might envy.He came back to her, his stern face inexpressibly softened.
"And I am ready to be helped, my child; it shall be as you say."There was something in his voice and in the gentle acceptance of help from one so strong and self-reliant which touched Erica more than any praise or demonstrative thanks could have done.They were going to work together, he had promised that she should fight side by side with him.
"Lawsuits may ruin us," said Raeburn, "but, after all, the evil has a way of helping out the good." He put his arm round her and kissed her."You have taught me, little one, how powerless and weak are these petty persecutions.They can only prick and sting us! Nothing can really hurt us while we love the truth and love each other."That was the happiest moment Erica had ever known, already her loss had brought a rapturous gain.
