We Two [116]
laughed at the idea of being overtired by such a short journey.
"Oh, I have enjoyed it, thank you," she replied. "What a lovely line it is!"
"Is it?" said her aunt, a little surprised. "I didn't know it was considered specially pretty, and I myself am never able to look much at the scenery in traveling; it always gives me a headache."
"What a pity!" said Erica. "It is such a treat, I think. In fact, it is the only way in which I have seen what people call scenery. I never stayed in the country in my life."
"My dear, is it possible," exclaimed Mrs. Fane-Smith, in a horrified voice. "Yet you do not look pale. Do you mean that you have spent your whole life in town?"
"I was at Paris for two years," said Erica; "and twice I have spent a little time at the sea-side; and, years and years ago, father was once taken ill at Southampton, and we went to him there that was almost like the country I mean, one could get country walks. It was delightful; there was a splendid avenue, you know, and oh, such a common! It was in the spring time. I shall never forget the yellow gorse and the hawthorns, and such beautiful velvety grass."
Her enthusiasm pleased her aunt; moreover, it was a great relief to find the unknown niece well-bred and companionable, and not overburdened with shyness. Already Mrs. Fane-Smith loved her, and felt that the invitation, which she had given really from a strong sense of duty, was likely to give her pleasure instead of discomfort. All the way home, while Erica admired the Greyshot streets, and asked questions about the various buildings, Mrs. Fane-Smith was rejoicing that so fair a "brand," as she mentally expressed it, had been "plucked from the burning," and resolving that she would adopt her as a second daughter, and, if possible, induce her to take their name and drop the notorious "Raeburn." The relief was great, for on the way to the station, Mrs. Fane- Smith had been revolving the unpleasant thought in her mind that "really there was no knowing, Erica might be 'anything' since her mother was a 'nobody.'"
At last they drew up before a large house in the most fashionable of the Greyshot squares, the windows and balconies of which were gay with flowers.
"We shall find Rose at home, I expect," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, leading Erica across a marble-paved hall, and even as she spoke a merry voice came from the staircase, and down ran a fair-haired girl, with a charmingly eager and naive manner.
Erica had guessed what she must be from the quaint and kindly meant letter which she had sent her years before, and though five years in society had somewhat artificialized Rose, she still retained much of her childishness and impetuous honesty. She slipped her arm into her cousin's, and took her off to her room at once.
"I am so glad you have come!" she exclaimed. "I have been longing to see you for years and years. Mamma has been talking so much about your cleverness and my stupidity that just at the last I felt quite in a fright lest you should be too dreadfully 'blue.' I looked out of the drawing room window for you, and if you had been very forbidding I should have received you in state in the drawing room, but you were so charmingly pretty that I was obliged to rush down headlong to meet you."
Erica laughed and blushed, not being used to such broad compliments. In the meantime, they had traversed several flights of stairs, and Rose, opening a door, showed her into a spacious bedroom, most luxuriously fitted up.
"This great big room for me!" exclaimed Erica.
"It isn't at all ghostly," said Rose, reassuringly. "Will you be afraid if you have a night light?"
Erica laughed at the idea of being afraid; she was merely amused to think of herself established in such a palatial bedroom, such a contrast to the little book-lined room at home. There was a dainty little book case here, however, with some beautifully bound books, and in another minute she was delightedly scanning their titles, and, with a joyous exclamation, had caught up Browning's "Christmas-eve and
"Oh, I have enjoyed it, thank you," she replied. "What a lovely line it is!"
"Is it?" said her aunt, a little surprised. "I didn't know it was considered specially pretty, and I myself am never able to look much at the scenery in traveling; it always gives me a headache."
"What a pity!" said Erica. "It is such a treat, I think. In fact, it is the only way in which I have seen what people call scenery. I never stayed in the country in my life."
"My dear, is it possible," exclaimed Mrs. Fane-Smith, in a horrified voice. "Yet you do not look pale. Do you mean that you have spent your whole life in town?"
"I was at Paris for two years," said Erica; "and twice I have spent a little time at the sea-side; and, years and years ago, father was once taken ill at Southampton, and we went to him there that was almost like the country I mean, one could get country walks. It was delightful; there was a splendid avenue, you know, and oh, such a common! It was in the spring time. I shall never forget the yellow gorse and the hawthorns, and such beautiful velvety grass."
Her enthusiasm pleased her aunt; moreover, it was a great relief to find the unknown niece well-bred and companionable, and not overburdened with shyness. Already Mrs. Fane-Smith loved her, and felt that the invitation, which she had given really from a strong sense of duty, was likely to give her pleasure instead of discomfort. All the way home, while Erica admired the Greyshot streets, and asked questions about the various buildings, Mrs. Fane-Smith was rejoicing that so fair a "brand," as she mentally expressed it, had been "plucked from the burning," and resolving that she would adopt her as a second daughter, and, if possible, induce her to take their name and drop the notorious "Raeburn." The relief was great, for on the way to the station, Mrs. Fane- Smith had been revolving the unpleasant thought in her mind that "really there was no knowing, Erica might be 'anything' since her mother was a 'nobody.'"
At last they drew up before a large house in the most fashionable of the Greyshot squares, the windows and balconies of which were gay with flowers.
"We shall find Rose at home, I expect," said Mrs. Fane-Smith, leading Erica across a marble-paved hall, and even as she spoke a merry voice came from the staircase, and down ran a fair-haired girl, with a charmingly eager and naive manner.
Erica had guessed what she must be from the quaint and kindly meant letter which she had sent her years before, and though five years in society had somewhat artificialized Rose, she still retained much of her childishness and impetuous honesty. She slipped her arm into her cousin's, and took her off to her room at once.
"I am so glad you have come!" she exclaimed. "I have been longing to see you for years and years. Mamma has been talking so much about your cleverness and my stupidity that just at the last I felt quite in a fright lest you should be too dreadfully 'blue.' I looked out of the drawing room window for you, and if you had been very forbidding I should have received you in state in the drawing room, but you were so charmingly pretty that I was obliged to rush down headlong to meet you."
Erica laughed and blushed, not being used to such broad compliments. In the meantime, they had traversed several flights of stairs, and Rose, opening a door, showed her into a spacious bedroom, most luxuriously fitted up.
"This great big room for me!" exclaimed Erica.
"It isn't at all ghostly," said Rose, reassuringly. "Will you be afraid if you have a night light?"
Erica laughed at the idea of being afraid; she was merely amused to think of herself established in such a palatial bedroom, such a contrast to the little book-lined room at home. There was a dainty little book case here, however, with some beautifully bound books, and in another minute she was delightedly scanning their titles, and, with a joyous exclamation, had caught up Browning's "Christmas-eve and