Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of us; but what he, the one man who has understanding of just and unjust, will say, and what the truth will say.And therefore you begin in error when you suggest that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and unjust, good and evil, honorable and dishonorable.
--Plato.
In the drawing room Erica found the ostracism even more complete and more embarrassing.Lady Caroline who was evidently much annoyed, took not the slightest notice of her, but was careful to monopolize the one friendly looking person in the room, a young married lady in pale-blue silk.The other ladies separated into groups of two and threes, and ignored her existence.Lady Caroline's little girl, a child of twelve, was well bred enough to come toward her with some shy remark, but her mother called her to the other side of the room quite sharply, and made some excuse to keep her there, as if contact with Luke Raeburn's daughter would have polluted her.
A weary half hour passed.Then the door opened, and the gentlemen filed in.Erica, half angry, half tired, and wholly miserable, was revolving in her brain some stinging sentences for her article when the beautiful face again checked her.Her "Roman," as she called him, had come in, and was looking round the room, apparently searching for some one.At last their eyes met, and, with a look which said as plainly as words: "Oh, there you are! It was you Iwanted," he came straight towards her.
"You must forgive me, Miss Raeburn, for dispensing with an introduction," he said; "but I hardly think we shall need any except the name of our mutual fried, Charles Osmond."Erica's heart gave a bound.The familiar name, the consciousness that her wretched loneliness was at an end, and above all, the instantaneous perception of the speaker's nobility and breadth of mind, scattered for the time all her resentful thoughts made her again her best self.
"Then you must be Donovan!" she exclaimed, with the quaint and winsome frankness which was one of her greatest charms."I knew Iwas sure you were not like other people."He took her hand in his, and no longer wondered at Brian's seven years' hopeless waiting.But Erica began to realize that her exclamation had been appallingly unconventional, and the beautiful color deepened in her cheeks.
"I beg your pardon," she said, remembering with horror that he was not only a stranger but an M.P., "I I don't know what made me say that, but they have always spoken of you by your Christian name, and you have so long been 'Donovan' in my mind that somehow it slipped out you didn't feel like a stranger.""I am glad of that," he said, his dark and strangely powerful eyes looking right into hers.Something in that look made her feel positively akin to him.Like a stranger! Of course he had not felt like one.Never could be like anything but a friend."You see," he continued, "we have known of each other for years, and we know that we have one great bond of union which others have not.
Don't retract the 'Donovan' I like it.Let it be the outward sign of the real and unusual likeness in the fight we have fought."She still half hesitated.He was a man of five-and-thirty, and she could not get over the feeling that her impulsive exclamation had been presumptuous.He saw her uncertainty, and perhaps liked her the better for it, though the delicious naturalness, the child-like recognition of a real though scarcely known friend, had delighted him.
"We are a little more brother and sister than the rest of the world," he said, with the chivalrous manner which seemed to belong naturally to his peculiarly noble face."And if I were to confess that I had not always thought of you as 'Miss Raeburn'--"He paused, and Erica laughed.It was absurd to stand on ceremony with this kindred spirit.
"Have you seen the conservatory?" he asked."Shall we come in there? I want to hear all about the Osmonds."The relief of speaking with one who knew and loved Charles Osmond, and did not, for want of real knowledge, brand him with the names of half a dozen heresies, was very great.It was not for some time that Erica even glanced at the lovely surroundings, though she had inherited Raeburn's great love of flowers.At last, however, an exquisite white flower attracted her notice, and she broke off in the middle of a sentence.
"Oh, how lovely! I never saw anything like that before.What is it?""It is the EUCHARIS AMAZONICA," replied her companion "About the most exquisite flower in the world, I should think the 'dove flower,' as my little ones call it.Ir you look at it from a distance the stamens really look like doves bending down to drink.""It is perfect! How I wish my father could see it!""We have a fairly good one at Oakdene, though not equal to this.
We must persuade you and Mr.Raeburn to come and stay with us some day."The tears came into Erica's eyes, so great was the contrast between his friendliness and the chilling discourtesy she had met with from others that evening.
"You are very good," she said."If you only knew how hard it is to be treated as if one were a sort of semi-criminal!""I do know," he said."It was this very society which goaded me into a sort of wild rebellion years ago.I deserved its bad opinion in a measure, and you do not, but it was unfair enough to make one pretty desperate.""If they were actual saints one might endure it," cried Erica.
