Eric Haeberlein had once compared her to a violin, and there was a good deal of truth in his idea.She was very sensitive, responding at once to the merest touch, and easily moved to admiration and devoted love, or to strong indignation.Naturally high-spirited, she was subject, too, to fits of depression, and was always either in the heights or the depths.Yet with all these characteristics was blended her father's indomitable courage and tenacity.Though feeling the thorns of life far more keenly than most people, she was one of those who will never yield; though pricked and wounded by outward events, she would never be conquered by circumstances.
At present her capabilities for adoration, which were very great, were lavished in two directions; in the abstract she worshipped intellect, in the concrete she worshipped her father.
From the grief and indignation of the afternoon she had passed with extraordinary rapidity to a state of merriment, which would have been incomprehensible to one who did not understand her peculiarly complex character.Mrs.Raeburn listened with a good deal of amusement to her racy description of Charles Osmond.
"Strange that this should have happened so soon after our talk this afternoon," she said, musingly."Perhaps it is as well that you should have a glimpse of the other side, against which you were inveighing, or you might be growing narrow.""He is much too good to belong to them!" said Erica enthusiastically.
As she spoke Raeburn entered, bringing the visitor with him, and they all sat down to their meal, Erica pouring out tea and attending to every one's wants, fondling her cat, and listening to the conversation, with all the time a curious perception that to sit down to table with one of her father's opponents was a very novel experience.She could not help speculating as to the thoughts and impressions of her companions.Her mother was, she thought, pleased and interested for about her worn face there was the look of contentment which invariably came when for a time the bitterness of the struggle of life was broken by any sign of friendliness.Her father was--as he generally was in his own house--quiet, gentle in manner, ready to be both an attentive and an interested listener.This gift he had almost as markedly as the gift of speech; he at once perceived that his guest was no ordinary man, and by a sort of instinct he had discovered on what subjects he was best calculated to speak, and wherein they could gain most from him.Charles Osmond's thoughts she could only speculate about; but that he was ready to take them all as friends, and did not regard them as a different order of being, was plain.
The conversation had drifted into regions of abstruse science, when Erica, who had been listening attentively, was altogether diverted by the entrance of the servant, who brought her a brown-paper parcel.Eagerly opening it, she was almost bewildered by the delightful surprise of finding a complete edition of Longfellow's poems, bound in dark blue morocco.Inside was written: "From another admirer of 'Hiawatha.'"She started up with a rapturous exclamation, and the two men paused in their talk, each unable to help watching the beautiful little face all aglow with happiness.Erica almost danced round the room with her new treasure.
"What HEAVENLY person can have sent me this?" she cried."Look, father! Did you ever see such a beauty?"Science went to the winds, and Raeburn gave all his sympathy to Erica and Longfellow."The very thing you were wishing for.Who could have sent it?""I can't think.It can't be Tom, because I know he's spent all his money, and auntie would never call herself an admirer of 'Hiawatha,' nor Herr Haeberlein, nor Monsieur Noirol, nor any one I can think of.""Dealings with the fairies," said Raeburn, smiling."Your beggar-child with the scones suddenly transformed into a beneficent rewarder.""Not from you, father?"
Raeburn laughed.
"A pretty substantial fairy for you.No, no, I had no hand in it.
I can't give you presents while I am in debt, my bairn.""Oh, isn't it jolly to get what one wants!" said Erica, with a fervor which made the three grown-up people laugh.
"Very jolly," said Raeburn, giving her a little mute caress.
"But now, Erica, please to go back and eat something, or I shall have my reporter fainting in the middle of a speech."She obeyed, carrying away the book with her, and enlivening them with extracts from it; once delightedly discovering a most appropriate passage.
"Why, of course," she exclaimed, "you and Mr.Osmond, father, are smoking the Peace Pipe." And with much force and animation she read them bits from the first canto.
Raeburn left the room before long to get ready for his meeting, but Erica still lingered over her new treasure, putting it down at length with great reluctance to prepare her notebook and sharpen her pencil."Isn't that a delightful bit where Hiawatha was angry," she said; "it has been running in my head all day--"'For his heart was hot within him, Like a living coal his heart was.'
That's what I shall feel like tonight when Mr.Randolph attacks father."She ran upstairs to dress, and, as the door closed upon her, Mrs.
Raeburn turned to Charles Osmond with a sort of apology.
"She finds it very hard not to speak out her thoughts; it will often get her into trouble, I am afraid.""It is too fresh and delightful to be checked, though," said Charles Osmond; "I assure you she has taught me many a lesson tonight."The mother talked on almost unreservedly about the subject that was evidently nearest her heart--the difficulties of Erica's education, the harshness they so often met with, the harm it so evidently did the child--till the subject of the conversation came down again much too excited and happy to care just then for any unkind treatment.Had she not got a Longfellow of her very own, and did not that unexpected pleasure make up for a thousand privations and discomforts?
Yet, with all her childishness and impetuosity, Erica was womanly, too, as Charles Osmond saw by the way she waited on her mother, thinking of everything which the invalid could possibly want while they were gone, brightening the whole place with her sunshiny presence.Whatever else was lacking, there was no lack of love in this house.The tender considerateness which softened Erica's impetuosity in her mother's presence, the loving comprehension, between parent and child, was very beautiful to see.
