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after all, you are dreadfully blue. Fancy snatching up a Browning
like that!
Erica began to unlock her trunk.
Do you want your things out? said Rose. I'll ring for Gemma;
she'll unpack for you.
Oh, thank you, said Erica, I would much rather do it myself.
But it is nearly dinner time, we are dining early this evening,
and you will want Gemma to help you to dress.
Oh, no, said Erica, laughing, I never had a maid in my life.
How funny, said Rose, I shouldn't know what to do without one.
Gemma does everything for me, at least everything that Elspeth will
let her.
Is she Italian? asked Erica.
Oh, no, her name is really Jemima; but that was quite too
dreadfully ugly, you know, and she is such a pretty girl.
She chattered on while Erica unpacked and put on her white serge,
then they went down to the drawing room where Erica was introduced
to her host, a small elderly man, who looked as if the Indian sun
had partially frizzled him. He received her kindly, but with a
sort of ceremonious stiffness which made her feel less perfectly at
her east than before, and after the usual remarks about the length
of the journey, and the beauty of the weather, he relapsed into
silence, surveying every one from his arm chair as though he were
passing mental judgments on every foolish or trifling remark
uttered. In reality, he was taking in every particular about
Erica. He looked at her broad forehead, overshadowed by the thick
smooth waves of short auburn hair, observed her goldenbrown eyes
which were just now as clear as amber; noted the creamy whiteness
and delicate coloring of her complexion, which indeed defied
criticism even the criticism of such a critical man as Mr.
FaneSmith. The nose was perhaps a trifle too long, the chin too
prominent, for ideal beauty, but greater regularity of feature
could but have rendered less quaint, less powerful, and less
attractive the strangely winsome face. It was only the mouth which
he did not feel satisfied with it added character to the face, but
he somehow felt that it betokened a nature not easily led, not so
gentle and pliable as he could have wished. It shut so very firmly
and the under lip was a little thinner and straighter than the
other and receded a little from it, giving the impression that
Erica had borne much suffering, and had exercised great
selfrestraint.
Mrs. FaneSmith saw in her a sort of miniature and feminine edition
of the Luke Raeburn whom she remembered eightandtwenty years
before in their Scottish home. When Rose had gone into the back
drawing room to fetch her crewels, she drew Erica toward her, and

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