told
her his surname because they knew that some day he would be a public
character. With instinctive delicacy she refrained from making any
reference to his speech, or any inquiry as to his identity with the
"Donovan" of whose inner life she had heard. Very soon after that, too,
she went down to the sea side with her father, and when they came back
to town the Osmonds had gone abroad, so it was not until the autumn that
they again met.

Her stay at Codrington wonderfully refreshed her; it was the first time
in her life that she had taken a thorough holiday, with change of scene
and restful idleness to complete it. The time was outwardly uneventful
enough, but her father grew strong in body and she grew strong in mind.

One absurd little incident she often laughed over afterward. It happened
that in the "On-looker" there was a quotation from some unnamed medieval
writer; she and her father had a discussion as to whom it could be,
Raeburn maintaining that it was Thomas a Kempis. Wishing to verify it,
Erica went to a bookseller's and asked for the "Imitation of Christ." A
rather prim-looking dame presided behind the counter.

"We haven't that book, miss," she said, "it's quite out of fashion now."

"I agree with you," said Erica, greatly amused. "It must be quite out
of fashion, for I scarcely know half a dozen people who practice it."
However, a second shop appeared to think differently, for it had Thomas
a Kempis in every conceivable size, shape, and binding. Erica bought
a little sixpenny copy and went back to the beach, where she made her
father laugh over her story.

They verified the quotation, and by and by Erica began to read the
book. On the very first page she came to words which made her pause and
relapse into a deep reverie.

"But he who would fully and feelingly understand the words of Christ,
must study to make his whole life conformable to that of Christ."

The thought linked itself in her mind with some words of John Stuart
Mill's which she had heard quoted till she was almost weary of them.

"Nor even now would it be easy, even for an unbeliever, to find a better
translation for the rule of virtue from the abstract into the concrete,
than to endeavor so to live that Christ would approve our life."

While she was still musing, a sound of piteous crying attracted her
notice. Looking up she saw a tiny child wandering along the beach,
trailing a wooden spade after her, and sobbing as if her heart wo