We Two Part 62

As for the counsel for the defense, he prudently accepted his defeat and, as Raeburn would not ask a single question of his daughter in cross-examination, another witness was called.

Long after, it was a favorite story among the young barristers of how Mr. Cringer was checkmated by Raeburn's daughter.

The case dragged on its weary length till August. At last, when two months of the public time had been consumed, when something like 20,000 pounds had been spent, when most bitter resentment had been stirred up among the secularists, Mr. Pogson's defense came to an end. Raeburn's reply was short, but effective; and the jury returned a verdict in his favor, fixing the damages, however, at the very lowest sum, not because they doubted that Raeburn had been most grossly libeled, but because the plaintiff had the misfortune to be an atheist.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI. Rose's Adventure

If Christians would teach Infidels to be just to Christianity, they should themselves be just to infidelity.

John Stuart Mill

The green room was one of those rooms which show to most advantage on a winter evening; attractive and comfortable at all times, it nevertheless reached its highest degree of comfort when the dusky green curtains were drawn, when the old wainscoted walls were lighted up by the red glow from the fire, and the well-worn books on the shelves were mellowed by the soft light into a uniform and respectable brown. One November evening, when without was the thickest of London fogs, Erica was sitting at her writing table with Friskarina on her lap, and Tottie curled up at her feet, preparing for one of her science cla.s.ses, when she was interrupted by the sound of a cab drawing up, speedily followed by a loud ring at the bell.

"Surely Monsieur Noirol can't have come already!" she said to herself, looking at her watch. It was just six o'clock, a whole hour before dinner time. Steps were approaching the door, however, and she was just inhospitably wis.h.i.+ng her guest elsewhere, when to her intense amazement the servant announced "Miss Fane-Smith."

She started forward with an exclamation of incredulity for it seemed absurd to think of Rose actually coming to see her in her father's house. But incredulity was no longer possible when Rose herself entered, in ulster and traveling hat, with her saucy laughing face, and her invariable content with herself and the world in general.

"Why, Erica!" she cried, kissing her on both cheeks, "I don't believe you're half properly glad to see me! Did you think it was my wraith? I a.s.sure you it's my own self in the flesh, and very cold flesh, too. What a delightful room! I'd no idea atheists' homes were so much like other people's. You cold-hearted little cousin, why don't you welcome me?"

"I am very glad to see you," said Erica, kissing her again. "But, Rose, what did bring you here?"

"A fusty old cab, a four-wheeler, a growler, don't you call them? But, if you knew why I have come to you in this unexpected way, you would treat me like the heroine I am, and not stand there like an incarnation of prudent hesitation. I've bee treated like the man in the parable, I've fallen among thieves, and am left with my raiment, certainly, but not a farthing besides in the world. And now, of course, you'll enact the good Samaritan.."

"Come and get warm," said Erica, drawing a chair toward the fire, but still feeling uncomfortable at the idea of Mr. Fane-Smith's horror and dismay could he have seen his daughter's situation.

"How do you come to be in town, Rose, and where were you robbed?"

"Why, I was going to stay with the Alburys at Sandgale, and left home about three, but at Paddington, when I went to get my ticket, lo and behold my purse had disappeared, and I was left lamenting, like Lord Ullin in the song."

"Have you any idea who took it?"

"Yes, I rather think it must have been a man on the Paddington platform who walked with a limp. I remember his pus.h.i.+ng up against me very roughly, and I suppose that was when he took it. The porters were all horrid about it, though, I could get no one to help me, and I hadn't even the money to get my ticket. At last an old lady, who had heard of my penniless condition, advised me to go to any friends I might happen to have in London, and I bethought me of my cousin Erica. You will befriend me, won't you? For it is impossible to get to Sandgale tonight; there is no other train stopping there."

"I wish I knew what was right," said Erica, looking much perplexed. "You see, Rose, I'm afraid Mr. Fane-Smith would not like you to come here."

"Oh, nonsense," said Rose, laughing. "He couldn't mind in such a case as this. Why, I can't stay in the street all night. Besides, he doesn't know anything about your home, how should he?"

This was true enough, but still Erica hesitated.

"Who was that white-haired patriarchal-looking man whom I met in the hall?" asked Rose. "A sort of devotional quaker-kind of man."

Erica laughed aloud at this description.

"That's my father!" she said; and, before she had quite recovered her gravity, Raeburn came into the room with some papers which he wanted copied.

"Father," said Erica, "this is Rose, and she has come to ask our help because her purse has been stolen at Paddington, and she is stranded in London with no money."

"It sounds dreadfully like begging," said Rose, looking up into the brown eyes which seemed half kindly, half critical.

They smiled at this, and became at once only kind and hospitable.

"Not in the least," he said; "I am very glad you came to us."

And then he began to ask her many practical questions about her adventure, ending by promising to put the matter at once into the hands of the police. They were just discussing the impossibility of getting to Sandgale that evening when Tom came into the room.

"Where is mother?" he asked. "She has kept her cab at the door at least ten minutes; I had to give the fellow an extra sixpence."

"That wasn't auntie's cab," said Erica, "she came home half an hour ago; it was Rose's cab. I hope you didn't send away her boxes?"

"I beg your pardon," said Tom, looking much surprised and a little amused. "The boxes are safe in the hall, but I'm afraid the cab is gone beyond recall."

"You see it is evidently meant that I should quarter myself upon you!"

said Rose, laughing.

Upon which Raeburn, with a grave and slightly repressive courtesy, said they should be very happy if she would stay with them.

"That will make my adventure perfect!" said Rose, her eyes dancing.

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 Sat.u.r.day; 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 s.h.a.ggy-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 AU FAIT 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."