"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 prompt.His case excited a good deal of attention; but long before the newspapers had ceased to wage war either for or against him, long before the weekly journals had ceased to teem with letters relating to the lawsuit, he had formed his plans for the future.His home was to be completely broken up, Erica was to go to Paris, his wife was to live with his sister, Mrs.Craigie, and her son, Tom, who had agreed to keep on the lodgings in Guilford Terrace, while for himself he had mapped out such a programme of work as could only have been undertaken by a man of "Titanic energy" and "Herculean strength," epithets which even the hostile press invariably bestowed on him.How great the sacrifice was to him few people knew.As we have said before, the world regarded him as a target, and would hardly have believed that he was in reality a man of the gentlest tastes, as fond of his home as any man in England, a faithful friend and a devoted father, and perhaps all the more dependent on the sympathies of his own circle because of the bitter hostility he encountered from other quarters.
But he made his plans resolutely, and said very little about them either one way or the other, sometimes even checking Erica when she grumbled for him, or gave vent to her indignation with regard to the defendant.
"We work for *******, little one," he used to say; "and it is an honor to suffer in the cause of liberty.""But every one says you will kill yourself with overwork," said Erica, "and especially when you are in America."'"They don't know what stuff I'm made of," said Raeburn; "and, even if it should use me up, what then? It's better to wear out than to rust out, as a wise man once remarked.""Yes," said Erica, rather faintly.
"But I've no intention of wearing out just yet," said Raeburn, cheerfully."You need not be afraid, little son Eric; and, if at the end of those two years you do come back to find me gray and wrinkled, what will that matter so long as we are free once more.
There's a good time coming; we'll have the coziest little home in London yet.""With a garden for you to work in," said Erica, brightening up like a child at the castle in the air."And we'll keep lots of animals, and never bother again about money all our lives."Raeburn smiled at her ides of felicity--no cares, and plenty of dogs and cats! He did not anticipate any haven of rest at the end of the two years for himself.He knew that his life must be a series of conflicts to the very end.Still he hoped for relief from the load of debt, and looked forward to the reestablishment of his home.
Brian Osmond heard of the plans before long, but he scarcely saw Erica; the Christmas holidays began, and he no longer met her each afternoon in Gower Street, while the time drew nearer and nearer for her departure for Paris.At length, on the very last day, it chanced that they were once more thrown together.
Raeburn was a great lover of flowers, and he very often received floral offerings from his followers.It so happened that some beautiful hot-house flowers had been sent to him from a nursery garden one day in January, and, unwilling to keep them all, he had suggested that Erica should take some to the neighboring hospitals.
Now there were two hospitals in Guilford Square; Erica felt much more interested in the children's hospital than in the one for grown-up people; but, wishing to be impartial she arranged a basketful for each, and well pleased to have anything to give, hastened on her errand.Much to her delight, her first basket of flowers was not only accepted very gratefully, but the lady superintendent took her over the hospital, and let her distribute the flowers among the children.She was very fond of children, and was as happy as she could be passing up and down among the little beds, while her bright manner attracted the little ones, and made them unusually affectionate and responsive.
