To what purpose do you profess to believe in the unity of the human race, which is the necessary consequence of the unity of God, if you do not strive to verify it by destroying the arbitrary divisions and enmities that still separate the different tribes of humanity? Why do we talk of fraternity while we allow any of our brethren to be trampled on, degraded or despised? The earth is our workshop.We may not curse it, we are bound to sanctify it...
We must strive to make of humanity one single family.Mazzini Erica's appearance at Lady Caroline's dinner party had caused a sort of storm in a tea cup; the small world of Greyshot was in a state of ferment, and poor Mrs.Fane-Smith suffered a good deal from the consciousness that she and her family were the subject of all the gossip of the place.Her little expedients had failed, and she began to reflect ruefully that perfect sincerity, plain honesty, would have been the best policy, after all.By the time that a week had passed, however, censure and harsh comments began to give place to curiosity, and the result of this was that on Monday, which was Mrs.Fane-Smith's "at home" day, Greyshot found it convenient to call in large numbers.
Erica, returning from Oakdene in the afternoon, found her work awaiting her.Her heart beat rather quickly when, on entering the drawing room she found it full of visitors; she half smiled to herself to find such an opportunity of beginning Donovan's work.
And very bravely she set about it.Those who had come from curiosity not unmixed with malice were won in spite of themselves;even Mr.Cuthbert, who bore down upon her with the full intention of making her uncomfortable, found himself checkmated as effectually as at Lady Caroline's dinner table, though in a very different way.
"I think I saw you in church yesterday morning!" he remarked, by way of introducing a discordant subject.
"Yes," replied Erica, "I have been staying at Oakdene Manor, and had a most delicious time.""Sharing Mr.Farrant's philanthropic labors?" asked Mr.Cuthbert, with his unpleasant smile.
She laughed.
"No; I have been thoroughly lazy, and September is their holiday month, too.You would have been amused to see us the other evening all hard at work making paper frogs like so many children.""Paper frogs!" said Mr.Cuthbert, with an intonation that suggested sarcasm.
"Yes; have you ever seen them?" asked Erica."I don't think many people know how to make them.Feltrino taught me when I was a little girl I'll show you, if you like.""Did you ever meet Feltrino?" asked Lady Caroline.
She knew very little of the Italian patriot.In his life time he had been despised and rejected, but he was now dead; his biography a well-written one was in all the circulating libraries, and even those who were far from agreeing with his political views, had learned something of the nobility of his character.So there was both surprise and envy in Lady Caroline's tone; she had a weakness for celebrities.
"I saw him once when I was seven years old," said Erica."He knew my father, and one day we were overtaken by a tremendous shower, and happened to meet Feltrino, who made us come into his rooms and wait till it was over.And while they talked Italian politics Isat and watched him.He had the most wonderful eyes I ever saw, and presently, looking up and seeing me, he laughed and took me on his knee, saying that politics must not spoil my holiday, and that he would show me how to make Japanese frogs.Once, when he was imprisoned, and was hardly allowed to have any books, the making of those frogs kept him from going mad, he said."While she spoke she had been deftly folding a sheet of paper, and several people were watching curiously."Before very long, the frog was completed, and the imitation proved so clever that there was an unanimous chorus of approval and admiration.Every one wanted to learn how to make them; the Feltrino frogs became the topic of the afternoon, and Erica fairly conquered the malicious tongues.She was superintending Lady Caroline's first attempt at a frog, when a familiar name made her look up.
"Mr.Cunningham Mr.Leslie Cunningham."
"I thought you were in Switzerland!" she exclaimed, as he crossed the room and shook hands with her.
"I never got further than Paris," he said, smiling.""My brother has gone instead, and I am going to follow your example and study the beauties of English scenery."Perhaps Greyshot opinion was more conciliated by the long talk with Mr.Leslie Cunningham, M.P., than even by the Feltrino frogs.To have Luke Raeburn's daughter suddenly thrust into the midst of their select society at Lady Caroline's dinner was one thing they had one and all shunned her.But when she proved to be, after all, clever and fascinating, and original, when they knew that she had sat on Feltrino's knee as a little child, above all, when they saw that Leslie Cunningham was talking to her with mingled friendliness and deference, they veered round.Politically, they hated Sir Michael Cunningham, but in society they were pleased enough to meet him, and in Greyshot, naturally enough, his son was a "lion."Greyshot made much of him during his stay at Blachingbury, and he found it very convenient just then to be made much of.
