At last she became too anxious to read or think to any purpose; she drew aside the curtain, and, in spite of the cold, curled herself upon the window seat with her face pressed close to the glass.
Watching, in a literal sense, was impossible, for there was a dense fog, if possible, worse than the fog of the preceding Saturday, but she had the feeling that to be by the window made her in some unaccountable way nearer to her father, and it certainly had the effect of showing her that there was a very good reason for unpunctuality.
The old square was as quiet as death.Once a policeman raised her hopes for a minute by pacing slowly up the pavement, but he passed on, and all was still once more except that every now and then the furniture in the room creaked, making the eerie stillness all the more noticeable.Erica began to shiver a little, more from apprehension than from cold.She wished the telegram had come from any other town in England, and tried in vain not to conjure up a hundred horrible visions of possible catastrophes.At length she heard steps in the distance, and straining her eyes to penetrate the thick darkness of the murky night, was able to make out just beneath the window a sort of yellow glare.She ran downstairs at full speed to open the door, and there upon the step stood a link-boy, the tawny light from his torch showing up to perfection the magnificent proportions of the man in a shaggy brown Inverness, who stood beside him, and bringing into strong relief the masses of white hair and the rugged Scottish face which, spite of cold and great weariness, bore its usual expression of philosophic calm.
"I thought you were never coming," said Erica."Why, you must be half frozen! What a night it is!""We've been more than an hour groping our way from the station,"said Raeburn; "and cabs were unattainable." Then, turning to the link-boy, "Come in, you are as cold and hungry as I am.Have you got something hot, Eric?""Soup and coffee," said Erica."Which would he like best?"The boy gave his vote for soup, and, having seen him thoroughly satisfied and well paid, they sent him home, and to his dying day he was proud to tell the story of the foggy night when the people's tribune had given him half of his own supper.The father and daughter were soon comfortably installed beside the green room fire, Raeburn making a hearty meal though it was past three o'clock.
"I never dreamed of finding you up, little son Eric," he said when the warmth and the food had revived him."I only telegraphed for fear you should lock up for the night and leave me to shiver unknown on the doorstep.""But what happened?" asked Erica."Why couldn't you lecture?""Ashborough had worked itself up into one of its tumults, and the fools of authorities thought it would excite a breach of the peace, which was excited quite as much and probably more by my not lecturing.But I'm not going to be beaten! I shall go down there again in a few weeks.""Was there any rioting?"
"Well, there was a roughish mob, who prevented my eating my dinner in peace, and pursued me even into my bedroom; and some of the Ashborough lambs were kind enough to overturn my cab as I was going to the station.But, having escaped with nothing worse than a shaking, I'll forgive them for that.The fact is they had burned me in effigy on the 5th and had so much enjoyed the ceremony that, when the original turned up, they really couldn't be civil to him, it would have been so very tame.I'm told the effigy was such a fearful-looking monster that it frightened the bairnies out of their wits, specially as it was first carried all round the place on a parish coffin!""What a hateful plan that effigy-burning is!" said Erica."Were you not really hurt at all when they upset your cab?""Perhaps a little bruised," said Raeburn, "and somewhat angry with my charitable opponents.I didn't so much mind being overturned, but I hate being balked.They shall have the lecture, however, before long; I'm not going to be beaten.On the whole, they couldn't have chosen a worse night for their little game.Iseriously thought we should never grope our way home through that fog.It has quite taken me back to my young days when this sort of thing met one on every hand; and there was no little daughter to cheer me up then, and very often no supper either!""That was when you were living in Blank Street?""Yes, in a room about the size of a sentry box.It was bearable all except the black beetles! I've never seen such beetles before or since twice the size of the ordinary ones.I couldn't convince the landlady that they even existed; she always maintained that they never rose to the attics; but one night I armed myself with Cruden's Concordance and, thanks to its weight and my good aim, killed six at a time, and produced the corpses as evidence.Ishall never forget the good lady's face! 'You see, sir,' she said, 'they never come by day; they 'ates the light because their deeds is evil.'""Were the beetles banished after that?" asked Erica, laughing.
"No, they went on to the bitter end," said Raeburn with one of his bright, humorous looks."And I believe the landlady put it all down to my atheistical views a just retribution for harboring such a notorious fellow in her house! But there, my child, we mustn't sit up any longer gossiping; run off to bed.I'll see that the lights are all out."
