not saying one word in defense of those so-called
Christians who treat you unfairly or uncharitably; but I do say that, as
far as I can see, you are quite as unfair to Christ as they are to your
father. Of course, you may reply that Jesus of Nazareth lived nearly
nineteen hundred years ago, and that your father is still living; that
you have many difficulties and doubts to combat, while our bigots can
verify every fact or quotation with regard to Mr. Raeburn with perfect
ease and certainty. That is true enough. But the difficulties, if
honestly faced, might be surmounted. You don't honestly face them; you
say to yourself, 'I have gone into all these matters carefully, and now
I have finally made up my mind; there is an end of the matter!' You
are naturally prejudiced against Christ; every day your prejudices will
deepen unless you strike out resolutely for yourself as a truth-seeker,
as one who insists on always considering all sides of the question.
At present you are absolutely unfair, you will not take the trouble to
study the life of Christ."

Few people like to be told of their faults. Erica could just endure it
from her father, but from no one else. She was, besides, too young
yet to have learned even the meaning of the word humility. Had Charles
Osmond been a few years younger, she would not even have listened to
him. As it was, he was a gray-haired man, whom she loved and revered; he
was, moreover, a guest. She was very angry with him, but she restrained
her anger.

He had watched her attentively while he spoke. She had at first only
been surprised; then her anger had been kindled, and she gave him one
swift flash from eyes which looked like live coals. Then she turned her
face away from him, so that he could only see one crimson cheek. There
was a pause after he had said his say. Presently, with a great effort,
Erica faced him once more, and in a manner which would have been
dignified had it not been a trifle too frigid, made some casual remark
upon a different subject. He saw that to stay longer was mere waste of
time.

When the door had closed behind him, Erica's anger blazed up once more.
That he should have dared to accuse her of unfairness! That he should
have dared actually to rebuke her! If he had given her a good shaking
she could not have felt more hurt and ruffled. And then to choose this
day of all others, just when life was so hard to her, just when she was
condemned to a long imprisonment. It wa