"You are a clergyman!" she almost gasped.

"Yes, why not?"

"I beg your pardon, I never thought--you seemed so much too--"

"Too what?"urged Charles Osmond. Then, as she still hesitated,
"Now, you must really let me hear the end of that sentence, or I
shall imagine everything dreadful."

"Too nice," murmured Erica, wishing that she could sink through the
floor.

But the confession so tickled Charles Osmond that he laughed aloud,
and his laughter was so infectious that Erica, in spite of her
confusion, could not help joining in it. She had a very keen sense
of the ludicrous, and the position was undoubtedly a laughable one;
still there were certain appalling recollections of the past
conversation which soon made her serious again. She had talked of
persecutions to one who was, at any rate, on the side of
persecutors; had alluded to bigots, and, worst of all, had spoken
in no measured terms of "tiresome Christians."

She turned, rather shyly, and yet with a touch of dignity, to her
visitor, and said:

"It was very careless of me not to notice more, but it was dark,
and I am not used to seeing any but our own people here. I am
afraid I said things which must have hurt you; I wish you had