, give me Thy pure hatred of
sin. Melt my coldness with Thy burning charity, and if it be possible
make me fit to be Luke Raeburn's friend."

While he still stood by the window a visitor was announced. He had been
too much absorbed to catch the name, but it seemed the most natural
thing that on turning round he should find himself face to face with the
prophet of atheism.

There he stood, a splendid specimen of humanity; every line in his
rugged Scottish face bespoke a character of extraordinary force, but the
eyes which in public Charles Osmond had seen flashing with the fire
of the man's enthusiasm, or gleaming with a cold metallic light which
indicated exactly his steely endurance of ill treatment, were now
softened and deepened by sadness. His heart went out to him. Already
he loved the man, only hitherto the world's opinions had crept into his
heart between each meeting, and had paralyzed the free God-like love.
But it was to do so no longer. That afternoon he had dealt it a final
blow, there was no more any room for it to rear its fair-speaking
form, no longer should its veiled selfishness, its so-called virtuous
indignation turn him into a Pharisaical judge.

He received him with a hand shake which conveyed to Raeburn much of the
warmth, the reality, the friendliness of the man. He had always liked
Charles Osmond, but he had generally met him either in public, or when
he was harassed and preoccupied. Now, when he was at leisure, when, too,
he was in great trouble, he instinctively perceived that Osmond had in a
rare degree the broad-hearted sympathy which he was just now in need of.
From that minute a life-long friendship sprung up between the two men.

"I came really to see your son," said Raeburn, "but they tell me he is
out. I wish to know the whole truth about Erica." It was not his way to
speak very much where he felt deeply, and Charles Osmond could detect
all the deep anxiety, the half-indulged hope which lay hidden behind the
strong reserved exterior. He had heard enough of the case to be able to
satisfy him, to assure him that there was no danger, that all must
be left to time and patience and careful observance of the doctor's
regulations. Raeburn sighed with relief at the repeated assurance that
there was no danger, that recovery was only a question of time. Death
had so recently visited his home that a grisly fear had taken possession
of his heart. Once free of that, he could speak almost cheerfull