recovery at Codrington the year before。 She was singing to him once more。
The old gentleman who had sat on her right hand at dinner came up now with his first remark。
〃Thank you； that was a real treat； and a very rare treat。 I wonder whether you would sing an old favorite of mine 'Oh； why did ye gang； lassie？'〃
Erica at once complied； and there was such pathos in her low； clear voice； that tears stood in the eyes of more than one listener。 She had never dared to sing that song at home since one evening some weeks before； when her father had just walked out of the room； unable to bear the mournful refrain 〃I never； never thought ye wad leave me！〃 The song was closely associated with the story of that summer； and she sang it to perfection。
Donovan Farrant came toward her again at the close。
〃I want to introduce my wife to you；〃 he said。
And Erica found that the young married lady in the pale…blue silk； whom she had singled out as the one approachable lady in the room； was Mrs。 Farrant。 She was very bright； and sunshiny； and talkative。 Erica liked her； and would have liked her still better had not the last week shown her so much of the unreality and insincerity of society that she half doubted whether any one she met in Greyshot could be quite true。 Mrs。 Farrant's manner was charming； but charming manners had often turned out to be exceedingly artificial； and Erica； who was in rather a hard mood； would not let herself be won over； but held her judgment in suspension； responding brightly enough to her companion's talk； but keeping the best part of herself in reserve。
At length the evening ended； and the guests gradually dispersed。 Mr。 Cuthbert walked across the road to his vicarage； still chuckling to himself as he thought of the general discomfiture caused by his question。 The musical old gentleman returned to his home revolving a startling new idea； after all； might not the Raeburns and such people be very much like the rest of the world？ Were they not probably as susceptible to pain and pleasure； to comfort and discomfort； to rudeness and civility？ He regretted very much that he had not broken the miserably uncomfortable silence at dinner。
Donovan Farrant and his wife were already far from Greyshot； driving along the quiet country road to Oakdene Manor。
〃A lovely girl；〃 Mrs。 Farrant was saying。 〃I should like to know her better。 Tonight I had the feeling somehow that she was purposely keeping on the surface of things； one came every now and then to a sort of wall； a kind of hard reserve。〃
〃Who can wonder！〃 exclaimed Donovan。 〃I am afraid； Gladys； the old proverb will have a very fair chance of being fulfilled。 That child has come out seeking wool； and as likely as not she'll go home shorn。〃
〃Society can be very cruel！〃 signed Gladys。 〃I did so long to get to her after dinner； but Lady Caroline kept me； I do believe； purposely。〃
〃Lady Caroline and Mr。 Cuthbert will little dream of the harm they have done；〃 said Donovan。 〃I think I understand as I never understood before the burning indignation of that rebuke to the Pharisees 'Full well ye reject the commandment of god that ye may keep your own traditions。'〃
In the meantime there was dead silence in the Fane…Smiths' carriage； an ominous silence。 There was an unmistakable cloud on Mr。 Fane…Smith's face； he had been exceedingly annoyed at what had taken place； and with native perversity； attributed it all to Erica。 His wife was miserable。 She felt that her intended kindness had proved a complete failure； she was afraid of her husband's clouded brow； still more afraid of her niece's firmly closed mouth； most afraid of all at the thought of Lady Caroline's displeasure。 Nervous and overwrought； anxious to conciliate all parties； and afraid of making matters worse； she timidly went into Erica's room； and after beating about the bush for a minute or two； plunged rashly into the sore subject。
〃I am so sorry； dear； about tonight；〃 she said。 I wish it could have been prevented。〃
Erica； standing up straight and tall in her velveteen dress； with a white shawl half thrown back from her shoulders； looked to her aunt terribly dignified and uncompromising。
〃I can't say that I thought them courteous；〃 she replied。
〃It was altogether unfortunate；〃 said Mrs。 Fane…Smith； hurriedly。 〃I hoped your name would not transpire； I ought to have suggested the change to you before； but〃
〃What change？〃 asked Erica； her forehead contracting a little。
〃We thought we hoped that perhaps； if you adopted our name； it might prevent unpleasantness。 Such things are done； you know； and then； too； we might make some arrangement about your grandfather's money； a part of which I feel is now yours by right。 Even now the change would show people the truth； would save many disagreeables。〃
During this speech Erica's face had been a study； an angry glow of color rushed to her cheeks； her eyes flashed dangerously。 She was a young girl； but there was a good deal of the lion about her at that minute； and her aunt trembled listening perforce to the indignant outburst。
〃What truth would it show？〃 she cried。 〃I don't believe there is such a thing as truth among all these wretched shams！ I will never change my name to escape from prejudice and bigotry； or to win a share in my grandfather's property！ What！ Give up my father's name to gain the money which might have kept him from pain and ruin and semi…starvation？ Take the money that might have brought comfort to my mother that might have kept me with her to the end。 I couldn't take it。 I would rather die than touch one penny of it。 It is too late now。 If you thought I would consent if that is the reason you asked me here； I can go at once。 I would not willingly have brought shame upon you； but neither will I dishonor myself nor insult my father by changing my name。 Why； to do so would be to proclaim that I judged him as those Pharisees did tonight。 The hypocrites！ Which of them can show one grain of love for the race； to set against my father's life of absolute devotion？ They sit over their champagne and slander atheists； and then have the face to call themselves Christians。〃
〃My dear！〃 said Mrs。 Fane…Smith； nervously。 〃Our only wish is to do what is best for you； but you are too tired and excited to discuss this now。 I will wish you good night。〃
〃I never wish to discuss it again； thank you；〃 said Erica； submitting to a particularly warm embrace。
Mrs。 Fane…Smith was right in one way。 Erica was intensely excited。 When people have been riding rough…shod over one's heart； one is apt to be excited； and Luke Raeburn's daughter had inherited that burning sense of indignation which was so strongly marked a characteristic in Raeburn himself。 Violins can be more sweet and delicate in tone than any other instrument； but they can also wail with greater pathos； and produce a more fearful storm of passion。
Declining any assistance from Gemma； Erica locked her door； caught up some sheets of foolscap； snatched up her pen； and began to write rapidly。 She knew well enough that she ought not to have written。 But when the heart is hot with indignation； when the brain produces scathing sentences； when the subject seems to have taken possession of the whole being； to deny its utterance is quite the hardest thing in the world。
Erica struggled to resist； but at length yielded； and out rushed sarcasms； denunciations； return blows innumerable！ The relief was great。 However； her enjoyment was but short for by the time her article was rolled up for the post； stamped and directed； her physical powers gave way； such blank exhaustion ensuing that all she could do was to drag herself across the room； throw herself； half dressed； on the bed； draw the rezai over her； and yield to the heavy； overpowering slumber of great weariness。
It seemed to her that she slept about five minutes； and was then roused by a knocking at her door。 She started up； and found that it was morning。 Then she recollected bolting her door； and sprung out of bed to undo it； but was reminded at once that she had a spine。 She had quite recovered from the effects of her illness； but over…fatigue always brought back the old pain； and warned her that she must be more careful in the future。 The house maid seemed a little surprised not to find her up and dressed as usual； for Erica generally got through an hour's writing before the nine o'clock breakfast。
〃Are you ill； miss？〃 she asked； glancing at the face which seemed almost as colorless as the pillow。
〃Only very tired； thank you；〃 said Erica； glad enough today of the cup of tea and the thin bread and butter which before had seemed to her such an absurd luxury。
〃Letters for the early post； miss； I suppose？〃 said the house maid； taking up the fiery effusion。
〃Please；〃 replied Erica； not turning her head； and far too weary to give a thought to her last night's work。 All she could think of just then was the usual waking reflection of a sufferer 〃How in the world shall I get through the day？〃
The recollection； however； of her parting conversation with her aunt made her determined to be down to breakfast。 Her absence might be misconstrued。 And though feeling ill…prepare