he was a chilly
Indian mortal. Erica had never been into the library before. It was a
delightful room, furnished with old carved oak and carpeted with soft
Indian rugs. Though dignified by the name of library, it was not nearly
so crowded with books as the little study at home; all the volumes were
beautifully bound in much-begilt calf or morocco, but they had not the
used, loved look of her father's books. On the mantel piece there were
some models of Indian idols exquisitely carved in soft, greenish-gray
soapstone, and behind these, as if in protest, lurked the only
unornamental thing in the room, a very ordinary missionary box, covered
with orange-colored paper and impressively black negroes.

"I am sure, my dear," said Mr. Fane-Smith, "that after what occurred
last night you will see the desirability of thinking seriously about
your plans for the future. I have been intending to speak to you, but
waited until we had learned to know each other a little. However, I
regret now that I delayed. It is naturally far from desirable that you
should remain an inmate of your father's house, and my wife and I should
be very glad if you would make your home with us. Of course when it was
fully understood in Greyshot that you had utterly renounced your father
and your former friends, such unpleasantness as you encountered
last night would not again occur; indeed, I fancy you would become
exceedingly popular. It would perhaps have been wiser if you would have
taken our name, but your aunt tells me you object to that."

"Yes," said Erica, who was writhing with anger, and relieved herself by
the slight sarcasm, "I do object to be Miss Feign-Fane-Smith."

"Well, that must be as you please," he resumed; "but I really think if
you will accept our offer it will be for your ultimate good."

He proceeded to enumerate all the benefits which would accrue to her;
then paused.

Erica was silent for a minute. When she spoke it was in the low voice of
one who is struggling to restrain passion.

"I am sure you mean this very kindly," she said. "I have tried to listen
to your offer patiently, though, of course, the moment you began, I knew
that I must entirely emphatically, decline it. I will NEVER leave my
father!"

The last words were spoken with a sort of half-restrained outburst, as
if the pent-up passion must find some outlet.

Mr. Fane-Smith was startled. He so seldom thought of Luke Raeburn as a
fellow-being at all that perhaps i