that man so loving?" she thought to herself. "He reminded me
almost of father, yet I am no child of his. I am opposed to all that he
teaches. I have spoken my mind out to him in a way which must sometimes
have pained him. Yet he cares for me so much that it pained him
exceedingly to give me pain yesterday."

His character puzzled her. The loving breath, the stern condemnation of
whatever was not absolutely true, the disregard of what the world
said, the hatred of shams, and most puzzling of all, the often apparent
struggle with himself, the unceasing effort to conquer his chief fault.
Yet this noble, honest, intellectual man was laboring under a great
delusion, a delusion which somehow gave him an extraordinary power of
loving! Ah, no! It could not be his Christianity, though, which made him
loving, for were not most Christians hard and bitter and narrow-minded?

"I wish," she said, abruptly, "you would tell me what makes you willing
to be friends with us. I know well enough that the 'Church Chronicle'
has been punishing you for your defense of my father, and that there
must be a thousand disagreeables to encounter in your own set just
because you visit us. Why do you come?"

"Because I care for you very much."

"But you care, too, perhaps, for other people who will probably cut you
for flying in the face of society and visiting social outcasts."

"I don't think I can explain it to you yet," he replied. "You would only
tell me, as you told me once before, that I was talking riddles to you.
When you have read your Greek Testament and really studied the life of
Christ, I think you will understand. In the meantime, St. Paul, I think,
answers your question better than I could, but you wouldn't understand
even his words, I fancy. There they are in the Greek," he opened a
Testament and showed her a passage. "I believe you would think the
English almost as great gibberish as this looks to you in its unknown
characters."

"Do you advise every one to learn Greek?"

"No, many have neither time nor ability, and those who are not apt at
languages would spend their time more usefully over good translations, I
think. But you have time and brains, so I am very glad to teach you."

"I am afraid I would much rather it were for any other purpose!" said
Erica. "I am somehow weary of the very name of Christianity. I have
heard wrangling over the Bible till I am tired to death of it,
and discussions about the Atonement and the Inca