We Two [15]
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.
CHAPTER IV. "Supposing it is true!"
A man who strives earnestly and perseveringly to convince others, at least convinces us that he is convinced himself. Guesses at Truth.
The rainy afternoon had given place to a fine and starlit night. Erica, apparently in high spirits, walked between her father and Charles Osmond.
"Mother won't be anxious about us," she said. "She has not heard a word about Mr. Randolph's plans. I was so afraid some one would speak about it at tea time, and then she would have been in a fright all the evening, and would not have liked my going."
"Mr. Randolph is both energetic and unscrupulous," said Raeburn. "But I doubt if even he would set his roughs upon you, little one, unless he has become as blood thirsty as a certain old Scotch psalm we used to sing."
"What was that?" questioned Erica.
"I forget the beginning, but the last verse always had a sort of horrible fascination for us--
"'How happy should that trooper be Who, riding on a naggie, Should take thy little children up, And dash them 'gin the craggie!'"
Charles Osmond and Erica laughed heartily.
"They will only dash you against metaphorical rocks in the nineteenth century," continued Raeburn. "I remember wondering why the old clerk in my father's church always sung that verse lustily; but you see we have exactly the same spirit now, only in a more civilized form, barbarity changed to polite cruelty, as for instance the way you were treated this afternoon."
"Oh, don't talk about that," said Erica, quickly, "I am going to enjoy my Longfellow and forget the rest."
In truth, Charles Osmond was struck with this both in the father and daughter; each had a way of putting back their bitter thoughts, of dwelling whenever it was possible on the brighter side of life. He knew that Raeburn was involved in most harassing litigation, was burdened with debt, was confronted everywhere with bitter and often violent opposition, yet he seemed to live above it all, for there was a wonderful repose about him, an extraordinary serenity in his aspect, which would have seemed better fitted to a hermit than to one who has spent his life in fighting against desperate odds. One thing was quite clear, the man was absolutely convinced that he was suffering for the truth, and was ready to endure anything in what
"'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.
CHAPTER IV. "Supposing it is true!"
A man who strives earnestly and perseveringly to convince others, at least convinces us that he is convinced himself. Guesses at Truth.
The rainy afternoon had given place to a fine and starlit night. Erica, apparently in high spirits, walked between her father and Charles Osmond.
"Mother won't be anxious about us," she said. "She has not heard a word about Mr. Randolph's plans. I was so afraid some one would speak about it at tea time, and then she would have been in a fright all the evening, and would not have liked my going."
"Mr. Randolph is both energetic and unscrupulous," said Raeburn. "But I doubt if even he would set his roughs upon you, little one, unless he has become as blood thirsty as a certain old Scotch psalm we used to sing."
"What was that?" questioned Erica.
"I forget the beginning, but the last verse always had a sort of horrible fascination for us--
"'How happy should that trooper be Who, riding on a naggie, Should take thy little children up, And dash them 'gin the craggie!'"
Charles Osmond and Erica laughed heartily.
"They will only dash you against metaphorical rocks in the nineteenth century," continued Raeburn. "I remember wondering why the old clerk in my father's church always sung that verse lustily; but you see we have exactly the same spirit now, only in a more civilized form, barbarity changed to polite cruelty, as for instance the way you were treated this afternoon."
"Oh, don't talk about that," said Erica, quickly, "I am going to enjoy my Longfellow and forget the rest."
In truth, Charles Osmond was struck with this both in the father and daughter; each had a way of putting back their bitter thoughts, of dwelling whenever it was possible on the brighter side of life. He knew that Raeburn was involved in most harassing litigation, was burdened with debt, was confronted everywhere with bitter and often violent opposition, yet he seemed to live above it all, for there was a wonderful repose about him, an extraordinary serenity in his aspect, which would have seemed better fitted to a hermit than to one who has spent his life in fighting against desperate odds. One thing was quite clear, the man was absolutely convinced that he was suffering for the truth, and was ready to endure anything in what