What had been the extent of the understanding with Rose, Erica never learned, but she feared that it must have been equivalent to a promise in Tom's eyes, and much more serious than mere flirtation in Rose's, otherwise the regret in the letter was, from one of Rose's way of thinking, inexplicable.From that time there was a marked change in Tom; Erica was very unhappy about him, but there was little to be done except, indeed, to share all his interests as much as she could, and to try to make the home life pleasant.But this was by no means easy.To begin with, Raeburn himself was more difficult than ever to work with, and Tom, who was in a hard, cynical mood, called him overbearing where, in former times, he would merely have called him decided.The very best of men are occasionally irritable when they are nearly worked to death; and under the severe strain of those days, Raeburn's philosophic calm more than once broke down, and the quick Highland temper, usually kept in admirable restraint, made itself felt.
It was not, however, for two or three days after Haeberlein's funeral that he showed any other symptoms of illness.One evening they were all present at a meeting at the East End at which Donovan Farrant was also speaking.Raeburn's voice had somewhat recovered, and he was speaking with great force and fluency when, all at once in the middle of a sentence, he came to a dead pause.For half a minute he stood motionless; before him were the densely packed rows of listening faces, but what they had come there to hear he had not the faintest notion.His mind was exactly like a sheet of white paper; all recollection of the subject he had been speaking on was entirely obliterated.Some men would have pleaded illness and escaped, others would have blundered on.But Raeburn, who never lost his presence of mind, just turned to the audience and said quietly: "Will some one have the goodness to tell me what I was saying? My memory has played me a trick.""Taxation!" shouted the people.
A short-hand writer close to the platform repeated his last sentence, and Raeburn at once took the cue and finished his speech with perfect ease.Every one felt, however, that it was an uncomfortable incident, and, though to the audience Raeburn chose to make a joke of it, he knew well enough that it boded no good.
"You ought to take a rest," said Donovan to him when the meeting was over.
"I own to needing it," said Raeburn."Pogson's last bit of malice will, I hope, be quashed in a few days and, after that, rest may be possible.He is of opinion that 'there are mony ways of killing a dog though ye dinna hang him,' and, upon my word, he's not far wrong."He was besieged here by two or three people who wanted to ask his advice, and Donovan turned to Erica.
"He has been feeling all this talk about Herr Haeberlein; people say the most atrocious things about him just because he gave him shelter at the last," she said."Really sometimes the accusations are so absurd that we ourselves can't help laughing at them.But though I don't believe in being 'done to death by slanderous tongues,' there is no doubt that the constant friction of these small annoyances does tell on my father very perceptibly.After all, you know the very worst form of torture is merely the perpetual falling of a drop of water on the victim's head.""I suppose since last summer this sort of thing has been on the increase?""Indeed it has," she replied."It is worse, I think, than you have any idea of.You read your daily paper and your weekly review, but every malicious, irritating word put forth by every local paper in England, Scotland, or Ireland comes to us, not to speak of all that we get from private sources."On their way home they did all in their power to persuade Raeburn to take an immediate holiday, but he only shook his head.
"'Dree out the inch when ye have thol'd the span,'" he said, leaning back wearily in the cab but taking care to give the conversation an abrupt turn before relapsing into silence.
At supper, as ill luck would have it, Aunt Jean relieved her fatigue and anxiety by entering upon one of her old remonstrances with Erica.Raeburn was not sitting at the table; he was in an easy chair at the other side of the room, and possibly she forgot his presence.But he heard every word that passed, and at last started up with angry impatience.
"For goodness' sake, Jean, leave the child alone!" he said."Is it not enough for me to be troubled with bitterness and dissension outside without having my home turned into an arguing shop?""Erica should have thought of that before she deserted her own party," said Aunt Jean; "before, to quote Strauss, she had recourse to 'religious crutches.' It is she who has introduced the new element into the house."Erica's color rose, but she said nothing.Aunt Jean seemed rather baffled by her silence.Tom watched the little scene with a sort of philosophic interest.Raeburn, conscious of having spoken sharply to his sister and fearing to lose his temper again, paced the room silently.Finally he went off to his study, leaving them to the unpleasant consciousness that he had been driven out of his own dining room.But when he had gone, the quarrel was forgotten altogether; they forgot differences of creed in a great mutual anxiety.Raeburn's manner had been so unnatural, he had been so unlike himself, that in their trouble about it they entirely passed over the original cause of his anger.Aunt Jean was as much relieved as any one when before long he opened his door and called for Erica.
"I have lost my address book," he said;"have you seen it about?"She began to search for it, fully aware that he had given her something to do for him just out of loving consideration, and with the hope that it would take the sting from her aunt's hard words.
When she brought him the book, he took her face between both his hands, looked at her steadily for a minute, and then kissed her.
