But he held his opinions honestly and had suffered much for them;he had a real love for humanity and an almost passionate desire to better his generation.To such a man it was no light thing to be deemed everything that is vile; like poor Shelley, he found it exceedingly bitter to let "murderers and traitors take precedence of him in public opinion." People in general took into account all his harsh utterances (and some of them were very harsh), but they rarely thought anything about the provocation received, the excessively hard life that this man had lived, the gross personal insults which he had had to put up with, the galling injustice he had had to fight against.Upon this side of the question they just turned their backs, pooh-poohed it, or, when it was forced upon their notice, said (unanswerable argument!): "It wouldn't be so!"When, as they were making the descent, Erica found the strong hand stretched out for hers the moment the way grew dark, when she was warned of the slightest difficulty by, "Take care, little one, a narrow step," or, "'Tis rather broken here," she almost trembled to think that, in spite of all her efforts, he might have learned how matters really were.But by and by his serenity reassured her; had he thought that she was in trouble his face would not have been so cloudless.
And in truth Raeburn, spite of his keen observation, never thought for a moment of the true state of the case.He was a very literal unimaginative man, and having once learned to regard Brian as an old family friend and as his doctor, he never dreamed of regarding him in the light of his daughter's lover.Also, as is not unfrequently the case when a man has only one child, he never could take in the fact that she was quite grown up.Even when he read her articles in the "Daily Review," or discussed the most weighty topics with her, she was always "little son Eric," or his "little one." And Erica's unquenchable high spirits served to keep up the delusion.She would as often as not end a conversation on Darwinism by a romp with Friskarina, or write a very thoughtful article on "Scrutin de Liste," and then spring up from her desk and play like any child with an India-rubber ball nominally kept for children visitors.
She managed to tide over those days bravely and even cheerfully for her father's sake.It was easier when they had left Florence with its overbright and oversad memories.Peaceful old Verona was more in accordance with her state of mind; and from thence they went to Trento, and over the Brenner, passing Botzen and Brixen in their lovely valley, gaining a brief glimpse of the spire-like Dolomito, and gradually ascending the pass, leaving the river and its yellow reeds, and passing through the rich pasture land where the fields were bright with buttercups and daisies gold and silver of the people's property as Raeburn called them.Then on once more between crimson and purple porphyry mountains, nearer and nearer to the snowy mountain peaks; and at last, as the day drew to an end, they descended again, and saw down below them in the loveliest of valleys a little town, its white houses suffused by a crimson sunset glow.
"Innsbruck, madame, Innsbruck!" said a fat old Tyrolean man who had been showing them all the beauties of his beloved country throughout the journey.
And, though nothing could ever again have for Erica the sweet glamour of an Italian city, yet she was glad now to have seen the last of that sunny land, and welcomed the homely little place with its matter-of-fact houses and prosperous comfort.She felt somehow that it would be easier to endure now that she was fairly out of Italy.
The day after their arrival at Innsbruck was Sunday.There was no English service as yet for the season had not begun, but Erica went to the little Lutheran church, and Raeburn, who had never been to a Lutheran service, went with her for the sake of studying the congregation, the preacher, and the doctrine.Also, perhaps, because he did not want her to feel lonely in a foreign place.
All her life long Erica remembered that Sunday.The peaceful little church with its high pews, where they sat to sing and stood to pray, the homely German pastor with his plain yet forcible sermon on "Das Gebet,": the restful feeling of unity which so infinitely outweighed all the trifling differences, and the comfort of the sweet old German chorales.The words of one of them lingered always in her memory.
"Fuhlt Seel und Leib ein Wohl ergehen So treib es mich zum Dank dafur;Last du mich deine Werke sehen, So sey mein Ruhmen stets von dir;Und find ich in der Welt nicht Ruh, So steig mein Schmen Hinmel zu."After the service was ended, they wandered out into the public gardens where birds were singing round the statue of Walter von der Vogelveice, and a sparrow, to Erica's great delight, perched on his very shoulder.Then they left the town altogether and roamed out into the open country, crossing the river by a long and curiously constructed plank bridge, and sauntering along the valley beneath the snowy mountains, the river flowing smoothly onward, the birds singing, and a paradise of flowers on every side.It was quite the hottest day they had had, and they were not sorry to rest in the first shady place they came to.
"This is the right way to take pleasure," said Raeburn, enjoying as only an ardent lover of Nature can enjoy a mountain view."Brief snatches in between hard work.More than that is hardly admissible in such times as ours." His words seemed to them prophetic later on for their pleasure was destined to be even briefer than they had anticipated.The hotel at which they were staying was being painted, Erica had a room on the second floor, but Raeburn had been put at the top of the house.They had just returned from a long drive and were quietly sitting in Erica's room writing letters, thinking every moment that the gong would sound for the six-o'clock TABLE D'HOTE, when a sound of many voices outside made Raeburn look up.He went to the window.
