At which Raeburn smiled again, amused to think of the uneventful life in which such a trifling incident could seem an "adventure.""It seems very inhospitable," said Erica, "but don't you think, Rose, you had better go back to Greyshot?""No, you tiresome piece of prudence, I don't," said Rose perversely."And what's more, I won't, as Uncle Luke has asked me to stay."Erica felt very uncomfortable; she could have spoken decidedly had she been alone with any of the three, but she could not, before them all, say: "Mr.Fane-Smith thinks father an incarnation of wickedness and would be horrified if he knew that you were here."Tom had in the meantime walked to the window and drawn aside the curtain.
"The weather means to settle the question for you," he said."You really can't go off in such a fog as this; it would take you hours to get to Paddington, if you ever did get there, which is doubtful."They looked out and saw that he had not exaggerated matters; the fog had grown much worse since Rose's arrival, and it had been bad enough then to make traveling by no means safe.Erica saw that there was no help for it.Mr.Fane-Smith's anger must be incurred, and Rose must stay with them.She went away to see that her room was prepared, and coming back a little later found that in that brief time Rose had managed to enthrall poor Tom who, not being used to the genus, was very easily caught, his philosophy being by no means proof against a fair-haired, bright-looking girl who in a very few moments made him feel that she thought most highly of him and cared as no one had ever cared before for his opinion.She had not the smallest intention of doing harm, but admiration was what she lived for, and to flirt with every man she met had become almost as natural and necessary to her as to breathe.
Erica, out of loyalty to Mr.Fane-Smith and regard for Tom's future happiness, felt bound to be hard-hearted and to separate them at dinner.Tom used to sit at the bottom of the table as Raeburn did not care for the trouble of carving; Erica was at the head with her father in his usual place at her right hand.She put Rose in between him and the professor who generally dined with them on Saturday; upon the opposite side were Aunt Jean and M.Noirol.Now Rose, who had been quite in her element as long as she had been talking with Tom in the green room, felt decidedly out of her element when she was safely ensconced between her white-haired uncle and the shaggy-looking professor.If Erica had felt bewildered when first introduced to the gossip and small "society"talk of Greyshot, Rose felt doubly bewildered when for the first time in her life she came into a thoroughly scientific atmosphere.
She realized that there were a few things which she had yet to learn.She was not fond of learning so the discovery was the reverse of pleasant; she felt ignorant and humbled, liking to be AUFAIT at everything and to know things and do things just a little better than other people.Having none of the humility of a true learner, she only felt annoyed at her own ignorance, not raised and bettered and stimulated by a glimpse of the infinite greatness of science.
Raeburn, seeing that she was not in the least interested in the discussion of the future of electricity, left the professor to continue it with Tom, and began to talk to her about the loss of her purse, and to tell her of various losses which he had had.But Rose had the mortifying consciousness that all the time he talked he was listening to the conversation between Erica and M.Noirol.
As far as Rose could make out it was on French politics; but they spoke so fast that her indifferent school French was of very little service to her.By and by Raeburn was drawn into the discussion and Rose was left to amuse herself as well as she could by listening to a rapid flow of unintelligible French on one side, and to equally unintelligible scientific talk on the other.By and by this was merged into a discussion some recent book.They seemed to get deeply interested in a dispute as to whether Spinoza was or was not at any time in his life a Cartesian.
Rose really listened to this for want of something better to do, and Raeburn, thinking that he had been neglecting her, and much relieved at the thought that he had at length found some point of mutual interest, asked her whether she had read the book in question.
"Oh, I have no time for reading," said Rose.
He looked a little amused at this statement.Rose continued:
"Who was Spinoza? I never heard any of his music.""He was a philosopher, not a composer," said Raeburn, keeping his countenance with difficulty.
"What dreadfully learned people you are!" said Rose with one of her arch smiles."But do tell me, how can a man be a Cartesian? I've heard of Cartesian wells, but never--"She broke off for this was quite too much for Raeburn's gravity; he laughed, but so pleasantly that she laughed too.
"You are thinking of artesian wells, I fancy," he said in his kindly voice; and he began to give her a brief outline of Descartes' philosophy, which it is to be feared she did not at all appreciate.She was not sorry when Erica appealed to him for some disputed fact, in which they all seemed most extraordinarily interested, for when the discussion had lasted some minutes, Tom went off in the middle of dinner and fetched in two or three bulky books of reference; these were eagerly seized upon, to the entire disregard of the pudding which was allowed to get cold.
Presently the very informal meal was ended by some excellent coffee in the place of the conventional dessert, after which came a hurried dispersion as they were all going to some political meeting at the East End.Cabs were unattainable and, having secured a couple of link-boys, they set off, apparently in excellent spirits.
