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her better able to bear the small daily frets and annoyances, and
not unnaturally looked forward to the delicious rest of unity. A
Christian home ought to be delightful; she had never stayed in one,
and had a high ideal.
It was about six o'clock by the time she reached her journey's end,
and, waiting for her on the platform, she had no difficulty in
recognizing her aunt, a taller and fairer edition of Mrs. Craigie,
who received her with a kind, nervous diffident greeting, and
seemed very anxious indeed about her luggage, which was speedily
brought to light by the footman, and safely conveyed to the
carriage. Erica, used to complete independence, felt as if she
were being transformed into a sort of grownup baby, as she was
relieved of her bag and umbrella and guided down the steps, and
assisted into the open landau, and carefully tucked in with a
carriage rug.
I hope you are not overtired with the journey? inquired her aunt
with an air of the kindest and most anxious solicitude.
Accustomed to a really hard life in London, Erica almost laughed at
the idea of being overtired by such a short journey.
Oh, I have enjoyed it, thank you, she replied. What a lovely
line it is!
Is it? said her aunt, a little surprised. I didn't know it was
considered specially pretty, and I myself am never able to look
much at the scenery in traveling; it always gives me a headache.
What a pity! said Erica. It is such a treat, I think. In fact,
it is the only way in which I have seen what people call scenery.
I never stayed in the country in my life.
My dear, is it possible, exclaimed Mrs. FaneSmith, in a
horrified voice. Yet you do not look pale. Do you mean that you
have spent your whole life in town?
I was at Paris for two years, said Erica; and twice I have spent
a little time at the seaside; and, years and years ago, father was
once taken ill at Southampton, and we went to him there that was
almost like the country I mean, one could get country walks. It
was delightful; there was a splendid avenue, you know, and oh, such
a common! It was in the spring time. I shall never forget the
yellow gorse and the hawthorns, and such beautiful velvety grass.
Her enthusiasm pleased her aunt; moreover, it was a great relief to
find the unknown niece wellbred and companionable, and not
overburdened with shyness. Already Mrs. FaneSmith 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

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