Then came a wild, desolate part of the road, which passed through a valley shut in on all sides by mountains, some of them snowy, all wild and precipitous, and looking strangely desolate in the falling light. Erica could not help contrasting it with the view from the amphitheatre at Fiesole, of that wider amphitheatre of green hills all glowing with light and love. But presently came more peaceful glimpses; pretty little Schellenburg with its serpentine river winding again and again through the village street, and the happy-looking peasants chatting at their doors with here and there a white-capped baby made much of by all.
At last in the cool of the evening they reached Salsburg once more. But the pleasures of the day were not yet over for as they drew up at the door of their hotel a well-known figure suddenly emerged from the porch and hurried toward the carriage.
“Unexpected as a meteor,” said a hearty voice in slightly foreign accents. “Well, my good friend, well my guardian angel, how are you both? We meet under more auspicious circumstances this time!”
It was Eric Haeberlein.
CHAPTER XXXIV. The Most Unkindest Cut of All
Those who persecuted them supposed of course that they were
defending Christianity, but Christianity can be defended in
no such way. It forbids all persecution all persecution for
the sake of religion. Force cannot possibly propagate the
truth or produce the faith, or promote the love in which the
gospel consists.... Persecution can never arise from zeal
for the Gospel as truth from zeal for the Gospel properly
understood. If ever due to zeal in any measure, and not to
pride, selfishness, anger, ambition, and other hateful lusts
... It must be to a zeal which is in alliance with error.
... The men (atheists) therefore, who, by their courage
and endurance were specially instrumental in convincing
their countrymen that persecution for the avowal and
advocacy even of atheism is a folly and a crime, have really
rendered a service to the cause of Christian truth, and
their names will not be recorded without honor when the
history of our century is impartially written. Baird
Lectures, 1877. R. Flint, D.D., Professor of Divinity,
Edinburgh.
A few days later the brief holiday ended, and father and daughter were both hard at work again in London. They had crossed from Antwerp by night and had reached home about ten o'clock to find the usual busy life awaiting them.
Tom and Aunt Jean, who had been very dull in their absence, were delighted to have them back again; and though the air was thick with coming troubles, yet it was nevertheless a real home coming, while Erica, in spite of her hidden sorrow, had a very real enjoyment in describing her first foreign tour. They were making a late breakfast while she talked, Raeburn being more or less absorbed in the “Daily Review.”
“You see, such an early newspaper is a luxury now,” said Erica. “Not that he's been behaving well abroad. He promised me when we started that he'd eschew newspapers altogether and give his brain an entire rest; but there is a beguiling reading room at Florence, and there was no keeping him away from it.”