A nice Christian world! A nice type of a clergyman! she thought to herself, as bitterly as in the old days, and with a touch of sorrow added.The old lines from "Hiawatha," which had been so often on her lips, now rang in her head:
"For his heart was hot within him, Like a living coal his heart was."She longed to get up and go, but that would have put her aunt in a yet more painful position, and might have annoyed Lady Caroline even more than her presence.She would have given anything to have fainted after the convenient fashion of the heroines of romance, but never had she felt so completely strung up, so conscious of intense vitality.There was nothing for it but endurance.And for two mortal hours she had to sit and endure! Mr.Cuthbert never spoke to her; her neighbor on the other side glanced at her furtively from time to time, but preserved a stony silence; there was an uncomfortable cloud on her hostess's brow; while her aunt, whom she could see at some distance on the other side of the table, looked very white and wretched.
It is wonderful how rude people can be, even in good society, and the looks of "blank amaze," "cold surprise," and "cool curiosity"which Erica received would hardly be credited.A greater purgatory to a sensitive girl, whose pride was by no means conquered, can hardly be conceived.
She choked down a little food, unable to reject everything, but her throat almost refused to swallow it.The glare of the lights, the oppressive atmosphere, the babel of tongues seemed to beat upon her brain, and a sick longing for home almost overmastered her.Oh, to get away from these so-called Christians, with their cruel judgments, their luxuries, their gayeties these hard, rich bigots, who yet belonged to the body she had just joined, with who, in the eyes of her old friends, she should be identified! Oh, for the dear old book-lined study at home! For one moment with her father!
One word from a being who loved and trusted her! Tears started to her eyes, but the recollection that even home was no longer a place of refuge checked them.There would be Aunt Jean's wearing remonstrances and sarcastic remarks; there would be Mr.Masterman's patronizing contempt, and Tom's studious avoidance of the matters she had most at heart.Was it worse to be treated as a well-meaning idiot, or as an outcast and semi-heretic? Never till now had she so thoroughly realized her isolation, and she felt so bruised and buffeted and weary that the realization at that particular time was doubly trying.
Isolation is perhaps the greatest of all trials to a sensitive and warm-hearted nature, and nothing but the truest and deepest love for the whole race can possibly keep an isolated person from growing bitter.Erica knew this, had known it ever since Brian had brought her the message from her mother; "It is only love that can keep from bitterness." All through these years she had been struggling hard, and though there had been constant temptations, though the harshness of the bigoted, the insults offered to her father in the name of religion, the countless slights and slanders had tried her to the utmost, she had still struggled upward, and in spite of all had grown in love.But now, for the first time, she found herself completely isolated.The injustice, the hardness of it proved too much for her.She forgot that those who would be peace-makers reconcilers, must be content to receive the treatment which the Prince of Peace received; she forgot that these rich, contemptuous people were her brothers and sisters, and that their hard judgment did not and could not alter their relationship; she forgot all in a burning indignation, in an angry revolt against the injustice of the world.
She would study these people, she would note all their little weaknesses and foibles.Mr.Bircham had given her carte blanche for these three weeks; she would write him a deliciously sarcastic article on modern society.The idea fixed her imagination, she laughed to herself at the thought; for, however sad the fact, it is nevertheless true that to ordinary mortals "revenge is sweet." Had she given herself time to think out matters calmly, she would have seen that boh Christianity and the rules of art were opposed to her idea.It is true that Michael Angelo and other painters used to revenge themselves on the cardinals or enemies they most hated by painting them in the guise of devils, but both they and their art suffered by such a concession to an animal passion.And Erica fell grievously that evening.This is one of the evils of social ostracism.It is unjust, unnatural, and selfish.To preserve what it considers the dignity of society, it drives human beings into an unnatural position; it fosters the very evils which it denounces.
