Her enthusiasm pleased her aunt; moreover, it was a great relief to find
the unknown niece well-bred and companionable, and not overburdened
with shyness. Already Mrs. Fane-Smith loved her, and felt that the
invitation, which she had given really from a strong sense of duty, was
likely to give her pleasure instead of discomfort. All the way home,
while Erica admired the Greyshot streets, and asked questions about the
various buildings, Mrs. Fane-Smith was rejoicing that so fair a “brand,”
as she mentally expressed it, had been “plucked from the burning,”
and resolving that she would adopt her as a second daughter, and,
if possible, induce her to take their name and drop the notorious
“Raeburn.” The relief was great, for on the way to the station, Mrs.
Fane-Smith had been revolving the unpleasant thought in her mind that
“really there was no knowing, Erica might be 'anything' since her mother
was a 'nobody.'”
At last they drew up before a large house in the most fashionable of
the Greyshot squares, the windows and balconies of which were gay with
flowers.
“We shall find Rose at home, I expect,” said Mrs. Fane-Smith, leading
Erica across a marble-paved hall, and even as she spoke a merry voice
came from the staircase, and down ran a fair-haired girl, with a
charmingly eager and naive manner.
Erica had guessed what she must be from the quaint and kindly meant
letter which she had sent her years before, and though five years in
society had somewhat artificialized Rose, she still retained much of
her childishness and impetuous honesty. She slipped her arm into her
cousin's, and took her off to her room at once.
“I am so glad you have come!” she exclaimed. “I have been longing to
see you for years and years. Mamma has been talking so much about your
cleverness and my stupidity that just at the last I felt quite in a
fright lest you should be too dreadfully 'blue.' I looked out of the
drawing room window for you, and if you had been very forbidding I
should have received you in state in the drawing room, but you were so
charmingly pretty that I was obliged to rush down headlong to meet you.”
Erica laughed and blushed, not being used to such broad compliments. In
the meantime, they had traversed several flights of stairs, and Rose,
opening a door, showed her into a spacious bedroom, most luxuriously
fitted up.
“This great big room for me!” exclaimed Erica.
“It isn't at all ghostly,” said Rose, reassuringly. “Will you be afraid
if you have a night light?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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