xed with a greater
variety of people. In fact, in every way she was anxious about the
child's future, for Erica's was a somewhat perplexing character, and
seemed very ill fitted for her position.

Eric Haeberlein had once compared her to a violin, and there was a good
deal of truth in his idea. She was very sensitive, responding at once to
the merest touch, and easily moved to admiration and devoted love, or
to strong indignation. Naturally high-spirited, she was subject, too, to
fits of depression, and was always either in the heights or the depths.
Yet with all these characteristics was blended her father's indomitable
courage and tenacity. Though feeling the thorns of life far more keenly
than most people, she was one of those who will never yield; though
pricked and wounded by outward events, she would never be conquered by
circumstances. At present her capabilities for adoration, which were
very great, were lavished in two directions; in the abstract she
worshipped intellect, in the concrete she worshipped her father.

From the grief and indignation of the afternoon she had passed with
extraordinary rapidity to a state of merriment, which would have been
incomprehensible to one who did not understand her peculiarly complex
character. Mrs. Raeburn listened with a good deal of amusement to her
racy description of Charles Osmond.

"Strange that this should have happened so soon after our talk this
afternoon," she said, musingly. "Perhaps it is as well that you should
have a glimpse of the other side, against which you were inveighing, or
you might be growing narrow."

"He is much too good to belong to them!" said Erica enthusiastically.

As she spoke Raeburn entered, bringing the visitor with him, and they
all sat down to their meal, Erica pouring out tea and attending to every
one's wants, fondling her cat, and listening to the conversation, with
all the time a curious perception that to sit down to table with one of
her father's opponents was a very novel experience. She could not help
speculating as to the thoughts and impressions of her companions. Her
mother was, she thought, pleased and interested for about her worn face
there was the look of contentment which invariably came when for a
time the bitterness of the struggle of life was broken by any sign
of friendliness. Her father was--as he generally was in his own
house--quiet, gentle in manner, ready to be both an attentive and an
interested listener. Thi