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Indian　rezai；　Erica　slept　very　little　that　night。　　Perhaps　the　long　talk　about　her　father's　early　days　had　taken　too　great　a　hold　of　her。　　At　any　rate；　she　tossed　about　very　restlessly　in　her　luxurious　quarters；　and　when；　for　brief　intervals；　she　slept；　it　was　only　to　dream　of　her　father　taking　leave　of　his　Scottish　home；　and　always　he　bore　that　flint…like　face；　that　look　of　strong　endurance　and　repressed　passion　which　Elspeth　had　described；　and　which；　in　times　of　trouble　and　injustice；　Erica　had　learned　to　know　so　well。


CHAPTER　XXV。　Lady　Caroline's　Dinner

The　blank　of　amaze　of　your　haughty　gaze；　The　cold　surprise　of　patrician　eyes。　　Lewis　Morris

But　the　paucity　of　Christians　is　astonishing；　considering　the　number　of　them。　　Leigh　Hunt。

The　irritation；　or；　at　any　rate；　the　novelty　of　the　luxury　in　the　Fane…Smith's　household　wore　off　after　Erica　had　spent　a　few　days　at　Greyshot。　She　became　accustomed　to　the　great　rooms；　and　being　artistic　by　nature　and　the　reverse　by　education；　she　began　very　much　to　enjoy　the　pictures；　the　charming　variety　of　foreign　treasures；　and　particularly　all　the　lovely　things　of　Indian　workmanship　with　which　the　drawing　room　was　crowded。　　The　long；　formal　meals　she　learned　to　endure。　　The　absurdly　large　retinue　of　servants　ceased　to　oppress　her；　she　used　to　amuse　herself　by　speculating　as　to　the　political　views　of　the　men…servants！　　while　the　luxury　of　a　daily　drive　with　her　aunt　she　very　much　appreciated。

But；　though　the　mere　externals　were　soon　familiar　enough；　she　found　that　every　day　increased　the　difficulty　she　felt　in　becoming　accustomed　to　the　atmosphere　of　this　family。　　She　had　lived　all　her　life　with　people　who　were　overwhelmed　with　work；　and　in　a　home　where　recreation　was　only　the　rare　concession　to　actual　health。　　Here　recreation　seemed　to　be　the　business　of　life；　while　work　for　the　public　was　merely　tacked　on　as　a　sort　of　ornamental　fringe。

Mr。　Fane…Smith　had；　indeed；　a　few　committee　meetings　to　attend；　Mrs。　Fane…Smith　visited　her　district　once　a　fortnight；　and　distributed　tracts；　and　kind　words；　and　soup　tickets；　and　blanket　tickets；　besides　the　most　lavish　gifts　from　her　own　purse。　　Rose；　to　please　her　mother；　taught　a　class　of　little　girls　on　　Sunday　afternoon　that　is　to　say；　she　did　NOT　teach　them；　but　she　sat　in　a　chair　and　heard　them　say　collects；　and　enforced　orderly　behavior　upon　them；　and　read　them　a　good　little　story　book。　　But　these　were　merely　rather　tiresome　duties　which　came　in　very　often　as　provoking　interruptions　to　the　great　business　of　life；　namely　eating；　drinking；　dining　out；　giving　dinners；　or　attending　the　endless　succession　of　at…homes；　dances；　musical　evenings；　amateur　theatricals；　by　which　Greyshot　people　tried　to　kill　time。

As　to　taking　any　intelligent　interest　in　the　political　world；　no　one　seemed　to　dream　of　such　a　thing；　except　Mr。　Fane…Smith；　who　read　the　paper　at　breakfast；　and　hurled　anathemas　at　all　the　statesmen　whom　Erica　had　learned　to　love　and　revere。　　It　taxed　her　patience　to　the　utmost　to　sit　through　the　daily　diatribe　against　Sir　Michael　Cunningham；　her　hero　of　heroes。　　But　even　the　violent　opposition　seemed　preferable　to　the　want　of　interest　shown　by　the　others。　　Mrs。　Fane…Smith　had　time　to　fritter　away　at　least　half　an　hour　after　breakfast　in　the　most　desultory　conversation；　the　most　fruitless　discussions　with　Rose　as　to　some　detail　of　dress；　but　she　always　made　the　excuse　that　she　〃had　no　time〃　to　read　the　papers；　and　amused　Erica　not　a　little　by　asking　her　husband　if　〃anything　particular　had　been　happening　lately；〃　when　they　were　just　starting　for　a　dinner　party。　　Out　of　his　little　rechauffe　of　the　week's　news　she　probably　extracted　enough　information　to　enable　her　to　display　that　well…bred　interest；　that　vague　and　superficial　acquaintance　with　the　subject　which　will　pass　muster　in　society；　and　which　probably　explains　alike　the　very　vapid　talk　and　the　wildly　false　accusations　which　form　the　staple　of　ordinary　conversation。

Rose　was　even　more　perplexing。　　She　was　not　only　ignorant；　but　she　boasted　of　her　ignorance。　　Again　and　again　Erica　heard　her　deprecate　the　introduction　of　any　public　question。

〃Oh；　don't　begin　to　talk　of　that！〃　she　would　exclaim。　　〃I　know　nothing　about　it；　and　never　mean　to　know　anything。〃

Or　there　would　be　an　imploring　appeal。

〃Why　do　you　waste　your　time　in　talking　politics　when　you　have　never　told　me　a　word　about　so…and…so's　wedding？〃

She　occasionally　read　the　〃Court　Circular；〃　and　was　rather　fond　of　one　or　two　of　the　〃society〃　papers　from　which　she　used　to　glean　choice　little　paragraphs　of　personal　gossip。

Once　one　of　these　papers　gave　Erica　an　uncomfortable　experience。　The　elders　of　the　party　being　out　for　the　evening；　Rose　and　Erica　had　the　drawing　room　to　themselves；　and　Erica　was　really　enjoying　the　rare　novelty　of　talking　with　a　girl　of　her　own　age。　　Rose；　although　the　most　arrant　little　flirt；　was　fond；　too；　of　her　girl　friends；　and　she　really　liked　Erica；　and　enjoyed　the　fun　of　initiating　her　into　all　the　mysteries　and　delights　of　society。

〃How　did　you　get　your　name？〃　she　asked；　suddenly。　　〃It　is　so　pretty　and　so　uncommon。〃

〃Oh；〃　said　Erica；　without　thinking；　〃I　was　called　after　my　father's　friend；　Eric　Haeberlein。〃

〃Eric　Haeberlein？〃　exclaimed　Rose。　　〃Why；　I　was　reading　something　about　him　this　afternoon。　　Here　it　is　look！〃　　And　after　searching　the　columns　of　her　favorite　〃society〃　paper；　she　pointed　to　the　following　paragraph：

〃It　is　now　known　as　a　positive　fact　that　the　notorious　Eric　Haeberlein　was　actually　in　London　last　week　in　connection　with　the　disgraceful　Kellner　business。　　ON　DIT　that　he　escaped　detection　through　the　instrumentality　of　one　of　the　fair　sex；　whose　audacity　outweighed　her　modesty。〃

Erica　could　hardly　have　restrained　her　indignation　had　not　two　real　dangers　drawn　off　her　attention　from　her　own　wounded　feelings。　　Her　father　was　there　any　hateful　hint　that　he　was　mixed　up　with　Herr　Kellner？　　She　glanced　anxiously　down　the　page。　　No；　at　least　that　falsehood　had　not　been　promulgated。　　She　breathed　more　freely；　but　there　was　danger　still；　for　Rose　was　watching　her；　and　feminine　curiosity　is　hard　to　baffle。

〃Did　you　know　about　it？〃　she　asked。

Erica　did　not　reply　for　a　moment；　but　read　on；　to　gain　time；　then　she　threw　down　the　paper　with　an　exclamation　of　disgust。

〃How　can　you　read　such　stuff？〃

〃Yes；　but　is　that　the　Eric　Haeberlein　you　were　named　after？　　Did　he　really　come　to　London　and　escape？〃

〃There　is　only　one　Eric　Haeberlein　in　the　world　that　I　know　of；〃　said　Erica。　　〃But　I　think；　Rose；　I　was　wrong　and　foolish　to　mention　him。　　I　can't　tell　you　anything　about　him；　and；　even　if　I　could；　there　is　my　promise　to　Aunt　Isabel。　　If　I　am　not　to　talk　to　you　about　my　father；　I　certainly　ought　not　to　talk　about　his　friends。〃

Rose　acquiesced；　and　never　suspected　any　mystery。　　She　chatted　on　happily　for　the　rest　of　the　evening；　brought　down　a　great　collection　of　old　ball…cards；　and　with　a　sort　of　loving　recollection　described　each　very　minutely；　just　as　some　old　nurses　have　a　way　of　doing　with　the　funeral　cards　of　their　deceased　friends。　　This　paved　the　way　for　a　spontaneous　confession　that　she　really　preferred　Mr。　Torn；　the　curate　of　St。　Matthew's；　to　Captain　Golightly；　though　people　were　so　stupid；　and　would　say　she　was　in　love　with　him　just　because　they　flirted　a　little　sometimes。　　Rose　had　already　imagined　herself　in　love　with　at　least　a　dozen　people；　and　was　quite　ready　to　discuss　every　one　of　her　flirtations；　but　she　was　disappointed　to　find　that　her　cousin　was　either　very　reserved　on　the　subject；　or　else　had　nothing　to　say。

Erica　sat　listening　with　a　sort　of　wonder；　not　unmixed　with　disgust。　　Perhaps　she　might　have　shown　her　disapprobation　had　she　not　been　thankful　to　have　the　conversation　diverted　from　the　dangerous　topic；　besides；　the　cruel　words　were　still　rankling　in　her　heart；　and　woven　in　with　Rose's　chatter　she　heard　continually；　〃whose　audacity　outweighed　her　modesty。〃　　For　the　first　time　she　fully　understood　why　her　father　had　so　reluctantly　consented　to　her　scheme；　she　began　to　feel　the　sting　which　lay　beneath　the　words；　the　veiled　〃hints；〃　the　implied　evil；　more　wounding；　more　damaging　than　an　outspoke　lie。　　Now　that　she　understood　the　ways　of　society　better；　she　saw；　too；　that　what　had　seemed　to　her　an　unquestionable　duty　would　be　regarded　as　a　grave　breach　of　custom　and　etiquette。　　She　began　to　question　herself。　　Had　she　been　right？　　It　mattered　very　little　what　the　writer　of　a　〃society〃　paper　said　of　her；　if　she　had　done　the　really　right　thing。　　What　had　she　done？　　To　save　her　father's　friend　from　danger；　to　save　her　father　from　unmerited　suspicion；　she　had　gone　out　late　in　the　evening　with　a　man　considerably　over　fifty；　whom　she　had　known　from　her　babyhood。　　He　had；　it　is　true；　been　in　the　disguise　of　a　young　man。　　She　had　talked　to　him　on　the　platform　much　as　she　would　have　talked　to　Tom；　and　to　save　his　almost　certain　detection；　had　sprung　into　the　carriage；　thrown　her　arms　round　his　neck；　and　kissed　him。　　HAD　audacity　outweighed　her　modesty？　　Why；　all　the　time　she　had　been　thanking　God　for　having　allowed　her　to　undertake　the　difficult　task　for　her　father　on　that　particular　evening。　　She　had　done　it　in　the　sight　of　God；　and