think of quite coming to an end, I suppose because I am not so
unselfish as the others."

"Or may it not be a natural instinct, which is implanted in all,
which perhaps you have not yet crushed by argument."

Erica shook her head.

"More likely to be a little bit of one of my covenanting ancestors
coming out in me. Still, I own that the hope of the hereafter is
the one point in which you have the better of it. Life must seem
very easy if you believe that all will be made up to you and all
wrong set right after you are dead. You see we have rather hard
measure here, and don't expect anything at all by and by. But all
the same, I am always rather ashamed of this instinct, or
selfishness, or Scottish inheritance, whichever it is!"

"Ashamed! Why should you be?"

"It is a sort of weakness, I think, which strong characters like my
father are without. You see he cares so much for every one, and
thinks so much of making the world a little less miserable in this
generation, but most of my love is for him and for my mother; and
so when I think of death--of their death--" she broke off
abruptly.

"Yet do not call it selfishness," said Brian, with a slightly
choked feeling, for there had been a depth of pain in Erica's tone.
"My father, who has just that love of humanity of which you speak,
has still the most absolute belief in--yes, and longing for--