"I recollect now, we spoke of this two or three years ago," said Erica."You said that the highest good was attained by passing through struggles and temptations.""Think of it in this way," said Charles Osmond."The Father is educating His children; what education was ever brought about without pain? The wise human father does not so much shield his child from small pains, but encourages him to get wisdom from them for the future, tries to teach him endurance and courage.Pain is necessary as an element in education, possibly there is no evolution possible without it.The father may regret it, but, if he is wise, knows that it must be.He suffers twice as much as the child from the infliction of the pain.The All-Father, being at once all-knowing and all-loving, can see the end of the education while we only see it in process, and perhaps exclaim: 'What a frightful state of things,' or like your favorite 'Stephen Blackpool,' 'It's all a muddle.'""And the end you consider to be perfection, and eternal union with God.How can you think immortality probable?""It is the necessary outcome of belief in such a God, such a Father as we have spoken of.What! Could God have willed that His children whom He really loves should, after a time, fade utterly away? If so, He would be less loving than an average earthly father.If He did indeed love them, and would fain have had them ever with Him, but could not, then He would not be all-powerful.""I see you a universalist, a great contrast to my Early Father here, who gloats over the delightful prospect of watching from his comfortable heaven the tortures of all unbelievers.But, tell me, what do you think would be our position in your unseen world? Isuppose the mere realization of having given one's life in a mistaken cause would be about the most terrible pain conceivable?""I think," said Charles Osmond, with one of his grave, quiet smiles, "that death will indeed be your 'gate of life," that seeing the light you will come to your true self, and exclaim, 'Who'd have thought it?'"The every day language sounded quaint, it made Erica smile; but Charles Osmond continued, with a brightness in his eyes which she was far from understanding: "And you know there are to be those who shall say: 'Lord when saw we Thee in distress and helped Thee?'
They had not recognized Him here, but He recognized them there?
They shared in the 'Come ye blessed of my Father.'""Well," said Erica, thoughtfully, "if any Christianity be true, it must be your loving belief, not the blood-thirsty scheme of the Calvinists.If THAT could by any possibility be true, I should greatly prefer, like Kingsley's dear old 'Wulf,' to share hell with my own people."The words had scarcely left her lips when, with a startled cry, she sprung to her feet and hurried to the door.The next moment Charles Osmond saw Tom pass the window; he was unmistakably the bearer of bad news.
His first panting words were reassuring "Brian says you are not to be frightened;" but they were evidently the mere repetition of a message.Tom himself was almost hopeless; his wrath and grief become more apparent every minute as he gave an incoherent account of the afternoon's work.
The brutes, the fiends, had half killed the chieftain, had set on him like so many tigers.Brian and Hazeldine were bringing him home had sent him on to prepare.
Erica had listened so far with a colorless face, and hands tightly clasped, but the word "prepare" seemed to bring new life to her.
In an instant she was her strongest self.
"They will never try to take him up that steep narrow staircase.
Quick, Tom! Help me to move this couch into the study."The little Irish servant was pressed into the service, too, and sent upstairs to fetch and carry, and in a very few minutes the preparations were complete, and Erica had at hand all the appliances most likely to be needed.Just as all was done, and she was beginning to feel that a minute's pause would be the "last straw," Tom heard the sound of wheels in the square, and hurried out.Erica stood in the doorway watching, and presently saw a small crowd of helpers bearing a deathly looking burden.Whiteness of death redness of blood.The ground seemed rocking beneath her feet, when a strong hand took hers and drew her into the house.
"Don't be afraid," said a voice, which she knew to be Brian's though a black mist would not let her see him."He was conscious a minute ago; this is only from the pain of moving.Which room?""The study," she replied, recovering herself."Give me something to do, Brian, quickly."He saw that in doing lay her safety, and kept her fully employed, so much so, indeed, that from sheer lack of time she was able to stave off the faintness which had threatened to overpower her.
After a time her father came to himself, and Erica's face, which had been the last in his mind in full consciousness, was the first which now presented itself to his awakening gaze.He smiled.
"Well, Erica! So, after all, they haven't quite done for me.Nine lives like a cat, as I always told you."His voice was faint, but with all his wonted energy he raised himself before they could remonstrate.He was far more injured, however, than he knew; with a stifled groan he fell back once more in a swoon, and it was many hours before they were able to restore him.
After that, fever set in, and a shadow as of death fell on the house in Guilford Terrace.Doctors came and went; Brian almost lived with his patient; friends Raeburn had hosts of them came with help of every description.The gloomy little alley admitted every day crowds of inquirers, who came to the door, read the bulletin, glanced up at the windows, and went away looking graver than when they came.
