 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
