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.”