hurried farewells to her aunt and Tom； the last long embrace from her mother； the drive to the station； her father's recognition on the platform； the rude staring and ruder comments to which they were subjected； then the one supreme wrench of parting； the look of pain in her father's face； the trembling of his voice； the last long look as the train moved off； and the utter loneliness of all that followed。 Then came dimmer recollections； not less real； but more confused； of a merry set of fellow passengers who were going to enjoy themselves in the south of France； of a certain little packet which her father had placed in her hand； and which proved to be 〃Mill on Liberty；〃 of her eager perusal of the first two or three chapters； of the many instances of the 〃tyranny of the majority〃 which she had been able to produce； not without a certain satisfaction。 And afterward more vividly she could recall the last look at England； the dreary arrival at Boulogne； the long weary railway journey； and the friendly reception at Mme Lemercier's school。 No one could deny that her new life had been bravely begun。
CHAPTER VI。 Paris
But we wake in the young morning when the light is breaking forth； And look out on its misty gleams； as if the moon were full； And the Infinite around； seems but a larger kind of earth Ensphering this； and measured by the self…same handy rule。 Hilda among the Broken Gods。
Not unfrequently the most important years of a life； the years which tell most on the character； are unmarked by any notable events。 A steady； orderly routine； a gradual progression； perseverance in hard work； often do more to educate and form than a varied and eventful life。 Erica's two years of exile were as monotonous and quiet as the life of the secularist's daughter could possibly be。 There came to her； of course； from the distance the echoes of her father's strife； but she was far removed from it all； and there was little to disturb her mind in the quiet Parisian school。 There is no need to dwell on her uneventful life； and a very brief description of her surroundings will be sufficient to show the sort of atmosphere in which she lived。
The school was a large one； and consisted principally of French provincial girls； sent to Paris to finish their education。 Some of them Erica liked exceedingly； every one of them was to her a curious and interesting study。 She liked to hear them talk about their home life； and； above all things； to hear their simple； naive remarks about religion。 Of course she was on her honor not to enter into discussions with them； and they regarded all English as heretics； and did not trouble themselves to distinguish between the different grades。 But there was nothing to prevent her from observing and listening； and with some wonder she used to hear discussions about the dresses for the 〃Premiere Communion；〃 remarks about the various services； or laments over the confession papers。 The girls went to confession once a month； and there was always a day in which they had to prepare and write out their misdemeanors。 One day； a little； thin； delicate child from the south of France came up to Erica with her confession in her hand。
〃Dear； good Erica；〃 she said； wearily； 〃have the kindness to read this and to correct my mistakes。〃
Erica took the little thing on her knee； and began to read the paper。 It was curiously spelled。 Before very long she came to the sentence； 〃J'ai trop mange。〃
〃Why； Ninette；〃 exclaimed Erica； 〃you hardly eat enough to feed a sparrow； it is nonsense to put that。〃
〃Ah； but it was a fast day；〃 signed Ninette。 〃And I felt hungry； and did really eat more than I need have。〃
Erica felt half angry and contemptuous； half amused； and could only hope that the priest would see the pale； thin face of the little penitent； and realize the ludicrousness of the confession。
Another time all the girls had been to some special service； on their return； she asked what it had been about。
〃Oh；〃 remarked a bright…faced girl； 〃it was about the seven joys or the seven sorrowsof Mary。〃
〃Do you mean to say you don't know whether it was very solemn or very joyful？〃 asked Erica； astonished and amused。
〃I am really not sure；〃 said the girl； with the most placid good…tempered indifference。
On the whole； it was scarcely to be wondered at that Erica was not favorably impressed with Roman Catholicism。
She was a great favorite with all the girls； but； though she was very patient and persevering； she did not succeed in making any of them fluent English speakers； and learned their language far better than they learned hers。 Her three special friends were not among the pupils； but among the teachers。 Dear old Mme。 Lemercier； with her good…humored black eyes； her kind； demonstrative ways； and her delightful stories about the time of the war and the siege； was a friend worth having。 So was her husband； M。 Lemercier the journalist。 He was a little dried…up man； with a fierce black mustache； he was sarcastic and witty； and he would talk politics by the hour together to any one who would listen to him； especially if they would now and then ask a pertinent and intelligent question which gave him scope for an oration。
Erica made a delightful listener； for she was always anxious to learn and to understand； and before long she was quite AU FAIT； and understood a great deal about that exceedingly complicated thing； the French political system。 M。 Lemercier was a fiery； earnest little man； with very strong convictions； he had been exiled as a communist but had now returned； and was a very vigorous and impassioned writer in one of the advanced Republican journals。 He and his wife became very fond of Erica； Mme。 Lemercier loving her for her brightness and readiness to help； and monsieur for her beauty and her quickness of perception。 It was surprising and gratifying to meet with a girl who； without being a femme savante； was yet capable of understanding the difference between the Extreme Left and the Left Center； and who took a real interest in what was passing in the world。
But Erica's greatest friend was a certain Fraulein Sonnenthal； the German governess。 She was a kind…eyed Hanoverian； homely and by no means brilliantly clever； but there was something in her unselfishness and in her unassuming humility that won Erica's heart。 She never would hear a word against the fraulein。
〃Why do you care so much for Fraulein Sonnenthal？〃 she was often asked。 〃She seems uninteresting and dull to us。〃
〃I love her because she is so good；〃 was Erica's invariable reply。
She and the fraulein shared a bedroom； and many were the arguments they had together。 The effect of being separated from her own people was； very naturally； to make Erica a more devoted secularist。 She was exceedingly enthusiastic for what she considered the truth and not unfrequently grieved and shocked the Lutheran fraulein by the vehemence of her statements。 Very often they would argue far on into the night； they never quarreled； however hot the dispute； but the fraulein often had a sore time of it； for； naturally； Luke Raeburn's daughter was well up in all the debatable points； and she had； moreover； a good deal of her father's rapidity of thought and gift of speech。 She was always generous； however； and the fraulein had in some respects the advantage of her； for they spoke in German。
One scene in that little bedroom Erica never forgot。 They had gone to bed one Easter…eve； and had somehow fallen into a long and stormy argument about the resurrection and the doctrine of immortality。 Erica； perhaps because she was conscious of the 〃weakness〃 she had confessed to Brian Osmond； argued very warmly on the other side； the poor little fraulein was grieved beyond measure； and defended her faith gallantly； though； as she feared； very ineffectually。 Her arguments seemed altogether extinguished by Erica's remorseless logic； she was not nearly so clever； and her very earnestness seemed to trip her up and make all her sentences broken and incomplete。 They discussed the subject till Erica was hoarse； and at last from very weariness she fell asleep while the Lutheran was giving her a long quotation from St。 Paul。
She slept for two or three hours； when she woke； the room was flooded with silvery moonlight； the wooden cross which hung over the German's bed stood out black and distinct； but the bed was empty。 Erica looked round the room uneasily； and saw a sight which she never forgot。 The fraulein was kneeling beside the window； and even the cold moonlight could not chill or hide the wonderful brightness of her face。 She was a plain； ordinary little woman； but her face was absolutely transformed； there was something so beautiful and yet so unusual in her expression that Erica could not speak or move； but lay watching her almost breathlessly。 The spiritual world about which they had been speaking must be very real indeed to Thekla Sonnenthal！ Was it possible that this was the work of delusion？ While she mused； her friend rose； came straight to her bedside； and bent over her with a look of such love and tenderness that Erica； though not generally demonstrative； could not resist throwing her arms round her neck。
〃Dear Sunnyvale！ You look just like your name！〃 she exclaimed； 〃all brightness and humility！ What have you been doing to grow so like Murillo's Madonna？〃
〃I thought you were asleep；〃 said the fraulein。 〃Good night； Herzolattchen； or rather good morning； for the Easter day has begun。〃
Perhaps Erica liked her all the better for saying nothing more definite； but in the ordinary sense of the word she did not have a good night； for long after Thekla Sonnenthal was asleep； and dreaming of her German home； Luke Raeburn's daughter lay awake； thinking of the faith which to some was such an intense reality。 Had there been anything excited or unreal about her companion's manner； she would not have thought twice about it； but her tranquillity and sweetness seemed to her very remarkable。 Moreover； Fraulein Sonnenthal was strangely devoid of imagination； she was a matter…of…fact little person； not at all a likely subject for visions and delusions。 Erica was perplexed。 Once more there came to her that uncomfortable questio