Erica's first thought, as she glanced at Leslie Cunningham, was one of disappointment.He was not the least like his father.However, by degrees she began to like him--for his own sake.He could not have been more than five-and-twenty, and looked even younger; for he was fair-complexioned and clean-shaven.His thick, flaxen hair, and rather pallid face were decidedly wanting in color, but were relieved by very dark gray eyes.His features were well cut and regular, and the face was altogether a clever as well as an attractive one.
Erica felt as if she had got into a very delicious new word.The novelty of a meal AL FRESCO, the lovely view, the beautifully laid out grounds were charming externals; and then there were the deeper enjoyments the lovability of her host and hostess; the delightful atmosphere of broad-hearted sympathy in which they seemed to live and move, and, above all, the restfulness, the freedom of not living in momentary expectation of being rubbed the wrong way by a vexing conversation on religious, or political, or personal topics.
It was like a beautiful dream quite unlike any part of real, waking existence that she had ever before known.The conversation was bright and lively.They talked because they had something to say, and wished to say it, and the artificial element so prevalent in society talk was entirely absent.
Presently Ralph came out of the house, leading a fairy-like little girl of four years old.
"Here come the children," said Gladys."The hour before dinner is their special time.You have not seen Dolly, have you?""Dolly!" The name awoke some recollection of the past in Erica, and, as she kissed the little girl, she looked at her closely.
Yes, it was the same fascinating little baby face, with its soft, pink cheeks and little pointed chin, its innocent, blue-gray eyes, its tiny, sweet-tempered mouth.The sunny brown hair was longer and Dolly was an inch or two taller, but she was undoubtedly the same.
"Now I know why I always felt that I knew your face!" exclaimed Erica, turning to Donovan."Was not Dolly lost at Codrington last year?""On the beach," replied Donovan."Yes! Why, could it have been you who brought her back? Of course it was! Now it all comes back to me.I had exactly the same feeling about knowing your face the other evening at Lady Caroline's, but put it down to your likeness to Mr.Raeburn.There is another bond between us."They both laughed.Donovan took Dolly upon his knee.
"Do you remember, Dolly, when you were lost on the beach once?""Yes," said Dolly, promptly, "I clied."
"Who found you?"
"Farver," said Dolly.
"Who brought you to father?"
Dolly searched her memory.
"An old gentleman gave Dolly sweets!"
"My father," said Erica, smiling.
"And who helped you up the beach?" asked Gladys.
"A plitty lady did," said Dolly.
"Was it this lady, do you think?" said Donovan, indicating Erica.
Dolly trotted round with her dear little laughing face to make the scrutiny.
"I fink vis one is plittier," she announced.Whereupon every one began to laugh.
"The most charming compliment I ever heard!" said Leslie Cunningham."Dolly ought to be patted on the back."Erica smiled and colored; but as she looked again at Donovan and little Dolly, her thoughts wandered away to that June day in the museum when they had been the parable which shadowed forth to her such a wonderful reality.Truly, there were links innumerable between her and Donovan.
Leslie Cunningham seemed as if he intended to stay forever;however, every one was quite content to sit out on the lawn talking and watching the children at their play.It was one of those still, soft September evenings when one is glad of any excuse to keep out of doors.
At last the dressing bell rang, and Leslie took out his watch with an air of surprise.
"The afternoon has flown!" he exclaimed."I had no idea it was so late.I wanted to ask you, by the bye, whether I could see the coffee tavern at Greyshot.We are going to start one down at our place, and I want to see one or two well-managed ones first.
Whereabouts is it? I think I'll ride on now, and have a look at it.""Dine with us first," said Donovan, "and I'll ride over with you between eight and nine, that is the best time for seeing it in full swing."So Leslie Cunningham stayed to dinner, and talked a great deal about temperance work, but did not succeed in blinding his host, who knew well enough that Erica had been the real cause of his desire to go over to Greyshot.
Temperance, however, proved a fortunate subject, for it was, of course, one in which she was deeply interested, all the more so now that it formed one of the strongest bonds remaining between herself and her father's followers.A large number of the Raeburnites were either teetotalers or very strong temperance advocates, and Erica, who was constantly out and about in the poorer parts of London, had realized forcibly the terrible national evil, and was an enthusiastic temperance worker.
Donovan, perhaps out of malice prepense, administered a good many dry details about the management of coffee taverns, personal supervision, Etzenberger's machines, the necessity of a good site and attractive building, etc., etc.Erica only wished that Tom could have been there, he would have been so thoroughly in his element.By and by the conversation drifted away to other matters.
