en
annoying and insulting your father, that in withstanding their attacks
he has often received bodily injury, and that the atheists have so often
driven him into the law courts that he has been pretty nearly beggared.
All his privations you have shared for instance, you went with him and
lived for years in a poky little lodging, and denied yourself every
single luxury. But now you have, in spite of all these persecutions
carried on in the name of secularism, learned to see that the highest
form of secularism is true. The archbishop feels this terribly. However,
being a very loving father, he wisely refuses to indulge in perpetual
controversy with his child. You agree still to live together, and each
try with all your might to find all the possible points of union still
left you. Probably, if you are such a child as I imagine, you love your
father ten times more than you did before. Then just as you have made up
your mind to try to be more to him, when all you care about in life is
to comfort and help him, and when your heart is much occupied with your
new opinions, a friend of yours a secularist comes to you, and says: 'A
miserable life lies before you. The atheists will never thoroughly
take up with you while you live with your father the archbishop, and
of course it is wretched for you to be surrounded by those of another
creed. Come with me. I love you I will make you happy, and save you from
persecution."

In spite of himself Brian had smiled many times at this putting of an
Archbishop of Canterbury into the position of Luke Raeburn. But the
conclusion arrived at seemed to him to admit of only one answer, and
left him very grave.

"You may be right," he said, very sadly. "But to stand still and watch
her suffer--"

He broke off, unable to finish his sentence.

Charles Osmond took it up.

"To stand still and watch her suffer will be the terribly hard work of
a brave man who takes a true, deep view. To rush in with offers of help
would be the work of an impetuous man who took a very superficial view.
If Erica were selfish, I would say go and appeal to her selfishness, and
marry her at once; for selfishness will never do any good in Guilford
Terrace. But she is one of the most devoted women I know. Your appeal
would be rejected. I believe she will feel herself in the right place
there, and, as long as that is the case, nothing will move her."

"Father," said Brian, rather desperately, "I would take your opinion