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She smiled。
〃Ernst ist das leben；〃 she replied quietly。 〃One can't forget that even at such a time as this； and in such a place。〃
〃How is it that some never forget that for a moment； while others never remember it at all？〃 he said musingly。
〃Some of us have no excuse for ever forgetting；〃 she answered 〃hardly a chance either。〃
And though the words were vague； they shadowed out to him much of her life a life never free from sorrow； burdened with constant care and anxiety； and ever confronted by some of the most perplexing world problems。 A longing to shield； and protect； and comfort her rose in his heart； yet all the time he instinctively knew that hers was the stronger nature。
It seemed that the seriousness of life was to be borne in upon them specially that evening； for； returning to the drawing room； they found Donovan released from his interview； and relating with some indignation the pitiable story he had just heard。 It only reached Leslie Cunningham in fragments； however over crowding； children sleeping six in a bed； two of them with scarlet fever； no fever hospital； no accommodation for them； an inspector； medical officer； the board how drearily dry all the details seemed to him。 He could do nothing but watch Erica's eager face with its ever…varying play of expression。 He hardly knew whether to be angry with Donovan Farrant for alluding to matters which brought a look of sadness to her eyes； or to thank him for the story which made her face light up with indignation and look； if possible； more beautiful than before。
〃Don't offer to put up a fever shanty on the lawn；〃 said Gladys when her husband paused。
〃I wish we had an empty cottage where we could put them〃 said Donovan； 〃but I am afraid all I can do is to bring pressure to bear upon the authorities。 We'll ride over together； Cunningham； and Jack Trevethan； our manager； shall show you the tavern while I rout out this medical officer。〃
They had had tea； there was no longer any excuse for delaying。 Leslie； with an outward smile and an inward sigh； turned to take leave of Erica。 She was bending over a basket in which was curled up the invalid fox terrier。 For a moment she left off stroking the white and tan head； and held out her hand。
〃Goodbye；〃 she said frankly。
That was all。 And yet it made Leslie's heart bound。 Was he indeed to go to Switzerland tomorrow？ He MUST manage to get out of it somehow。
And all the way to Greyshot he listened to schemes for the work to be done next session from the ardent sanitary reformer； though just then the devastation of all England would scarcely have roused him so long as he was assured of the safety of Luke Raeburn's daughter。
CHAPTER XXVIII。 The Happiest of Weeks
He went in the strength of dependence To tread where his Master trod； To gather and knit together The Family of God。
With a conscience freed from burdens； And a heart set free from care； To minister to every one Always and everywhere。 Author of Chronicles of the Schonberg Cotta Family
After this came a happy； uneventful week at the manor。 Erica often thought of the definition of happiness which Charles Osmond had once given her 〃Perfect harmony with your surroundings。〃 She had never been so happy in her life。 Waif； who was slowly recovering； grew pathetically fond of his rescuer。 The children were devoted to her； and she to them。 She learned to love Gladys very much； and from her she learned a good deal which helped her to understand Donovan's past life。 Then； too； it was the first time in her life that she had ever been in a house where there were little children； and probably Ralph and Dolly did more for her than countless sermons or whole libraries of theology could have done。
Above all； there was Donovan； and the friendship of such a man was a thing which made life a sort of wordless thanksgiving。 At times even in those she loved best； even in her father or Charles Osmond； she was conscious of something which jarred a little； but so perfect was her sympathy with Donovan； so closely and strangely were their lives and characters linked together； that never once was the restfulness of perfect harmony broken Nature and circumstances had； as it were turned them to each other。 He could understand； as no one else could understand； the reversal of thought and feeling which she had passed through during the last few months。
He could understand the perplexities of her present position； suddenly confronted with the world of wealth and fashion and conventional religion； and fresh from a circle where； whatever the errors held and promulgated； the life was so desperately earnest； often so nobly self…denying。 He knew that Mr。 Fane…Smith； good man as he was； must have been about the severest of trials to a new…born faith。 He understood how Mr。 Cuthbert's malice would tend to reawaken the harsh class judgment against which； as a Christian； Erica was bound to struggle。 He could fully realize the irritated； ruffled state she was in she was overdone； and wanted perfect rest and quiet； perfect love and sympathy。 He and his wife gave her all these； took her not only to their house； but right into their home； and how to do this no one knew so well as Donovan； perhaps because he had once been in much the same position himself。 It was his most leisure month； the time he always devoted to home and wife and children； so that Erica saw a great deal of him。 He seemed to her the ideal head of an ideal yet real home。 It was one of those homes and thank God there are such！ where belief in the Unseen reacts upon the life in the seen； making it so beautiful； so lovable； that； when you go out once more into the ordinary world you go with a widened heart； and the realization that the kingdom of Heaven of which Christ spoke does indeed begin upon earth。
It is strange； in tracing the growth of spontaneous love； to notice how independent it is of time。 Love annihilates time with love； as with God； time is not。 Like the miracles； it brings into use the aeonial measurement in which 〃one day is a thousand years； and a thousand years is one day。〃 A week； even a few hours； may give us love and knowledge and mutual sympathy with one which the intercourse of many years fails to give with another。
The week at Oakdene was one which all her life long Erica looked back to with the loving remembrance which can gild and beautify the most sorrowful of lives。 It is surely a mistake to think that the memory of past delights makes present pain sharper。 If not； why do we all so universally strive to make the lives of children happy？ Is it not because we know that happiness in the present will give a sort of reflected happiness even in the saddest future？ Is it not because we know how in life's bitterest moments； its most barren and desolate paths； we feel a warmth about our heart； a smile upon our lips； when we remember the old home days with their eager childish interests and hopes； their vividly recollected pleasures； their sheltered luxuriance of fatherly and motherly love？ For how many thousands did the poet speak when he wrote
〃The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction。〃
A benediction which outliv