transparently sincere about her, that she seldom gave offense. But
the mother could not help wondering how it would be as she grew
older and mixed with a greater variety of people. In fact, in
every way she was anxious about the child's future, for Erica's was
a somewhat perplexing character, and seemed very ill fitted for her
position.

Eric Haeberlein had once compared her to a violin, and there was a
good deal of truth in his idea. She was very sensitive, responding
at once to the merest touch, and easily moved to admiration and
devoted love, or to strong indignation. Naturally high-spirited,
she was subject, too, to fits of depression, and was always either
in the heights or the depths. Yet with all these characteristics
was blended her father's indomitable courage and tenacity. Though
feeling the thorns of life far more keenly than most people, she
was one of those who will never yield; though pricked and wounded
by outward events, she would never be conquered by circumstances.
At present her capabilities for adoration, which were very great,
were lavished in two directions; in the abstract she worshipped
intellect, in the concrete she worshipped her father.

From the grief and indignation of the afternoon she had passed
with extraordinary rapidity to a state of merriment, which would
have been incomprehensible to one who did not understand her
peculiarly complex character. Mrs. Raeburn listened with a good
deal of amusement to her racy description of Charles Osmond.

"Strange that this should have happened so soon after our talk this
afternoon," she said, musingly. "Perhaps it is as well that you
should have a glimpse of the other side, against which you were