th
and breadth of the land. Without him they would have relapsed, very
probably, into that fearfully widespread mass of indifference which is
not touched by any form of Christianity or religious revival, but which
had responded to the practical, secular teaching of the singularly
powerful secularist leader. He had a wonderful gift of stirring up the
heretofore indifferent, and making them take a really deep interest
in national questions. This was by far the happiest part of his
life because it was the healthy part of it. The sameness of his
anti-theological work, and the barrenness of mere down-pulling, were
distasteful enough to him; he was often heartily sick of it all, and
had he not thought it a positive duty to attack what he deemed a very
mischievous delusion, he would gladly have handed over this part of his
work to some one else, and devoted himself entirely to national work.

He had been away from home for several days, lecturing in the north of
England. Erica was not expecting his return till the following day, when
one evening a telegram was brought in to her. It was from her father to
this effect:

"Expect me home by mail train about two A.M. Place too hot to hold me."

He had now to a great extent lived down the opposition which had made
lecturing in his younger days a matter of no small risk to life and
limb; but Erica knew that there were reasons which made the people of
Ashborough particularly angry with him just now. Ashborough was one of
those strange towns which can never be depended upon. It was renowned
for its riots, and was, in fact (to use a slang word) a "rowdy" place.
More than once in the old days Raeburn had been roughly handled there,
and Erica bore a special grudge to it, for it was the scene of her
earliest recollection one of those dark pictures which, having been
indelibly traced on the heart of a child, influence the whole character
and the future life far more than some people think.

It was perhaps old memory which made her waiting so anxious that
evening. Moreover, she had at first no one to talk to, which made it
much worse. Aunt Jean had gone to bed with a bad toothache, and must on
no account be disturbed; and Tom had suddenly announced his intention
that morning of going down to Brighton on his bicycle, and had set off,
rather to Erica's dismay, since, in a letter to Charles Osmond, Donovan
happened to have mentioned that the Fane-Smiths had taken a house there
for six weeks