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The boats had all drawn to shore on the northern side of the fiord, where, no doubt, the bishop had a visit to pay before proceeding to Erlingsen's. The cheese-making might yet be done in time, even if Frolich should be sent for home, to see and be seen by the good bishop. The day after Erica's departure to the dairy, Peder was sitting alone in his house, weaving a frail-basket.
The "garden" was Erica's favorite resort, her own particular property. It was about fifteen feet square, and no one but a Londoner would have bestowed on it so dignified a name.
They invariably smoothed down all such roughnesses in his presence, and probably in any case he would have been unable to see such microscopic grievances; unless, indeed, they left any shade of annoyance on Erica's face, and then his fatherhood detected at once what was wrong.
But remember this, Eric, we are only a struggling minority, and let me quote to you one of our Scottish proverbs: 'Hawks shouldna pick out hawks' een. You are still a hawk, are you not?" "Of course," she said, earnestly. "Well, then be leal to your brother hawks." A cloud of perplexed thought stole over Erica's face. Raeburn noted it and did his best to divert her attention.
He spoke rather abruptly, but Erica's thoughts had been following much the same bent, and she understood him. "Trust is easy on such a day as this and in such a place," she said, looking down to the beautiful valley and up to the green, encircling hills. Donovan smiled, and touched up the ponies.
He would spend whole days on the river, too tired even to speak, or would drag himself as far as the neighboring wood and stretch himself at full length under the trees while she sat by sketching or writing. Bur Brian was satisfied with his improvement when he came down on one of his periodical visits, and set Erica's mind at rest about him.
Brian, a little flushed with quick walking, looked into Erica's face searchingly, and was satisfied with what he read there satisfied with the soft glow of color that came to her cheeks, and with the bright look of happiness that came into her eyes which, as a rule, were grave, and when in repose even sad in expression.
If Erica's name should transpire, it might be very awkward, but she had not broached the suggested change of name to her, and every day her courage dwindled every day that resolute mouth frightened her more. She was quite aware that Erica's steady, courageous honesty would unsparingly condemn all her small weaknesses and little expedients.
"My dear Erica," said Mr. Fane-Smith, feeling his theological arguments worsted, "we must discuss this matter on practical grounds. In plain words, your father is a very bad man, and you ought to have nothing more to do with him." Erica's lips turned white with anger; but she answered, calmly: "That is a very great accusation. How do you know it is true?" "I know it well enough," said Mr.
"I will do thirty more strokes!" he said to himself. And he did them. "I will do ten more!" And he forced himself to keep on. "Ten more!" He was gasping now. Erica's weight seemed to be dragging him down, down, into nothingness. Six strokes painfully made! Seven! After all nothingness would mean rest. Eight! No pain to either, since they were together. Nine!
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