By and by they talked of Switzerland and of Brian, Donovan telling her just what she wanted to know about him though he never let her feel that he knew all about the day at Fiesole. And from that they passed to the coming trial of which he spoke in exactly the most helpful way, not trying to assure her, as some well-meaning people had done, that there was really nothing to be grieved or anxious about; but fully sympathizing with the pain while he somehow led her on to the thought of the unseen good which would in the long run result from it. “I do believe that now, with all my heart.” she said. “I knew you did,” he replied, smiling a little. “You have learned it since you were at Greyshot last year. And once learned it is learned forever.” “Yes,” she said musingly. “But, oh! How slowly one learns in such little bits. It's a great mistake to think that we grasp the whole when the light first comes to us, and yet it feels then like the whole.” “Because it was the whole you were then capable of,” said Donovan. “But, you see, you grow.” “Want to grow, at any rate,” said Erica. “Grow conscious that there is an Infinite to grow to.” Then, as in a few minutes he rose to go: “Well, you have done me good, you and Dolly, and this blessed little dog. Thank you very much for coming.” She went out with them to the door and stood on the steps with Tottie in her arms, smiling a goodbye to little Dolly. “That's the bravest woman I know,” thought Donovan to himself, “and the sweetest save one. Poor Brian! Though, after all, it's a grand thing to love such as Erica even without hope.” And all the afternoon there rang in his ears the line “A woman's soul, most soft, yet strong.” The next day troubles began in good earnest. They were all very silent at breakfast. Raeburn looked anxious and preoccupied, and Erica, not feeling sure that conversation would not worry him, did not try to talk. Once Aunt Jean looked up for a moment from her paper with a question. “By the bye, what are you going to wear, Erica?” “Sackcloth, I think,” said Erica; “it would be appropriate.” Raeburn smiled a little at this. “Something cool, I should advise,” he said. “The place will be like a furnace today.” He pushed back his chair as he spoke and went away to his study. Tom had to hurry away, too, being due at his office by nine o'clock; and Erica began to rack her brains to devise the nicest of dinners for them that evening. She dressed in good time, and was waiting for her father in the green room when just before ten o'clock the front door opened, quick steps came up the stairs, and, to her amazement, Tom entered. “Back again!” she exclaimed. “Have you got a holiday?” “I've got my conge',” he said in a hoarse voice, throwing himself down in a chair by the window. “Tom! What do you mean?” she cried, dismayed by the trouble in his face. “Got the sack,” he said shortly. “What! Lost your situation? But how? Why?”