We Two [112]
was saying.
"What station do you go to?" asked Erica.
"I thought of trying Cannon Street," replied the German.
"Because," continued Erica, "I think you had better let me see you off. You will look like a young Englishman, and I shall do all the talking, so that you need not betray your accent. They would never dream of Herr Haeberlein laughing and talking with a young girl."
"They would never dream that a young girl would be brave enough to run such a risk!" said Haeberlein. "No, my sweet Herzblattchen, I could not bring thee into danger."
"There will be none for me," said Erica, "and it may save you from evil and my father from suspicion. Father, if you will let me, it would be more of a disguise than anything."
"You might meet some one you know," said Raeburn.
"Very unlikely," she replied. "And even if I did, what would it matter? I need not tell them anything, and Herr Haeberlein would get off all the same."
He saw that she was too pure and too unconventional to understand his objection, but his whole heart rebelled against the idea of letting her undertake the task, and it was only after much persuasion that she drew from him a reluctant consent. After all, it would be a great safeguard to Haeberlein, and Haeberlein was his dearest friend. For no one else could he have risked what was so precious to him. There was very little time for discussion. The instant his permission was given, Erica ran upstairs to Tom's private den, lighted his gas stove, and made a cup of chocolate, at the same time blackening a cork very carefully. In a few minutes she returned to the study, carrying the chocolate and a plate of rusks, which she remembered were a particular weakness of Herr Haeberlein's. She found that in her absence the two had been discussing matters again, for Haeberlein met her with another remonstrance.
"Liebe Erica," he began, "I yielded just now to thy generous proposal; but I think it will not do. For myself I can be rash, but not for thee. Thou art too frail and lovely, my little one, to get mixed up with the grim realities of such a life as mine."
She only laughed. "Why, I have been mixed up with them ever since I was a baby!"
"True; but now it is different. The world might judge thee harshly, people might say things which would wound thee."
"They say! LET them say!'" quoted Erica, smiling. "mens conscia recti will carry one through worse things than a little slander. No, no, you must really let me have my own way. It is right, and there's an end of it!"
Raeburn let things run their course; he agreed with Erica all the time, though his heart impelled him to keep her at home. And as to Eric Haeberlein, it would have needed a far stronger mind than that of the sweet-tempered, quixotic German to resist the generous help offered by such a lovely girl.
There was no time to lose; the latest train for the Continent left at 9:25, and before Haeberlein had adjusted his new disguise the clock struck nine. Erica very carefully blackened his eyebrows and ruthlessly sheared the long black wig to an ordinary and unnoticeable length, and, when Tom's ulster and hat were added, the disguise was so perfect, and made Haeberlein look so absurdly young, that Raeburn himself could not possibly have recognized him.
In past years Raeburn had often risked a great deal for his friend. At one time his house had been watched day and night in consequence of his well-known friendship with the Republican Don Quixote. Unfortunately, therefore, it was only too probable that Haeberlein in risking his visit this evening might have run into a trap. If he were being searched for, his friend's house would almost inevitably be watched.
They exchanged farewells, not without some show of emotion on each side, and just at the last Raeburn hastily bent down and kissed Erica's forehead, at his heart a sickening sense of anxiety. She too was anxious, but she was very happy to have found on the evening of her baptism so unusual a service to render to her father, and, besides, the consciousness
"What station do you go to?" asked Erica.
"I thought of trying Cannon Street," replied the German.
"Because," continued Erica, "I think you had better let me see you off. You will look like a young Englishman, and I shall do all the talking, so that you need not betray your accent. They would never dream of Herr Haeberlein laughing and talking with a young girl."
"They would never dream that a young girl would be brave enough to run such a risk!" said Haeberlein. "No, my sweet Herzblattchen, I could not bring thee into danger."
"There will be none for me," said Erica, "and it may save you from evil and my father from suspicion. Father, if you will let me, it would be more of a disguise than anything."
"You might meet some one you know," said Raeburn.
"Very unlikely," she replied. "And even if I did, what would it matter? I need not tell them anything, and Herr Haeberlein would get off all the same."
He saw that she was too pure and too unconventional to understand his objection, but his whole heart rebelled against the idea of letting her undertake the task, and it was only after much persuasion that she drew from him a reluctant consent. After all, it would be a great safeguard to Haeberlein, and Haeberlein was his dearest friend. For no one else could he have risked what was so precious to him. There was very little time for discussion. The instant his permission was given, Erica ran upstairs to Tom's private den, lighted his gas stove, and made a cup of chocolate, at the same time blackening a cork very carefully. In a few minutes she returned to the study, carrying the chocolate and a plate of rusks, which she remembered were a particular weakness of Herr Haeberlein's. She found that in her absence the two had been discussing matters again, for Haeberlein met her with another remonstrance.
"Liebe Erica," he began, "I yielded just now to thy generous proposal; but I think it will not do. For myself I can be rash, but not for thee. Thou art too frail and lovely, my little one, to get mixed up with the grim realities of such a life as mine."
She only laughed. "Why, I have been mixed up with them ever since I was a baby!"
"True; but now it is different. The world might judge thee harshly, people might say things which would wound thee."
"They say! LET them say!'" quoted Erica, smiling. "mens conscia recti will carry one through worse things than a little slander. No, no, you must really let me have my own way. It is right, and there's an end of it!"
Raeburn let things run their course; he agreed with Erica all the time, though his heart impelled him to keep her at home. And as to Eric Haeberlein, it would have needed a far stronger mind than that of the sweet-tempered, quixotic German to resist the generous help offered by such a lovely girl.
There was no time to lose; the latest train for the Continent left at 9:25, and before Haeberlein had adjusted his new disguise the clock struck nine. Erica very carefully blackened his eyebrows and ruthlessly sheared the long black wig to an ordinary and unnoticeable length, and, when Tom's ulster and hat were added, the disguise was so perfect, and made Haeberlein look so absurdly young, that Raeburn himself could not possibly have recognized him.
In past years Raeburn had often risked a great deal for his friend. At one time his house had been watched day and night in consequence of his well-known friendship with the Republican Don Quixote. Unfortunately, therefore, it was only too probable that Haeberlein in risking his visit this evening might have run into a trap. If he were being searched for, his friend's house would almost inevitably be watched.
They exchanged farewells, not without some show of emotion on each side, and just at the last Raeburn hastily bent down and kissed Erica's forehead, at his heart a sickening sense of anxiety. She too was anxious, but she was very happy to have found on the evening of her baptism so unusual a service to render to her father, and, besides, the consciousness