ce up and down the little
room, his eyes not altogether free from tears, for, pachydermatous as he
was accounted by his enemies, this man was very tender over his child,
he could hardly endure to see her pain. Yet after all, though she had
given him a sharp pang, she had brought him happiness which any father
might envy. He came back to her, his stern face inexpressibly softened.

"And I am ready to be helped, my child; it shall be as you say."

There was something in his voice and in the gentle acceptance of help
from one so strong and self-reliant which touched Erica more than any
praise or demonstrative thanks could have done. They were going to work
together, he had promised that she should fight side by side with him.

"Lawsuits may ruin us," said Raeburn, "but, after all, the evil has a
way of helping out the good." He put his arm round her and kissed her.
"You have taught me, little one, how powerless and weak are these petty
persecutions. They can only prick and sting us! Nothing can really hurt
us while we love the truth and love each other."

That was the happiest moment Erica had ever known, already her loss had
brought a rapturous gain.

"I shall never go to sleep tonight," she said. "Let me help you with
your letters."

Raeburn demurred a little, but yielded to her entreaties, and for the
next two hours the father and daughter worked in silence. The bitterness
which had lurked in the earlier part of the pamphlet that Raeburn had in
hand was quite lacking in its close; the writer had somehow been lifted
into a higher, purer atmosphere, and if his pen flew less rapidly over
the paper, it at any rate wrote words which would long outlive the mere
overflow of an angry heart.

Coming back to the world of realities at last somewhere in the small
hours, he found his fire out, a goodly pile of letters ready for
his signature, and his little amanuensis fast asleep in her chair.
Reproaching himself for having allowed her to sit up, he took her in his
strong arms as though she had been a mere baby, and carried her up
to her room so gently that she never woke. The next morning she found
herself so swathed in plaids and rugs and blankets that she could hardly
move, and, in spite of a bad headache, could not help beginning the day
with a hearty laugh.

Raeburn was not a man who ever let the grass grow under his feet, his
decisions were made with thought, but with very rapid thought, and his
action was always prom