Elder Conklin | Page 5

but in knowledge and in manners--he
didn't stand in the corner of the room like the rest and stare till all the
girls became uncomfortable. What did looks matter after all? Besides,
he wasn't homely, he was handsome; so he was. His eyes were
lovely--she had always liked dark eyes best--and his moustache was
dark, too, and she liked that. To be sure it wasn't very long yet, or thick,
but it would grow; and here she sighed with content. Most girls in her
place would be sorry he wasn't taller, but she didn't care for very tall
men; they sorter looked down on you. Anyway, he was strong--a pang
of fear shot suddenly through her--he might be hurt by that brute. Seth
Stevens on the morrow. Oh, no. That was impossible. He was brave,

she felt sure, very brave. Still she wished they weren't going to fight; it
made her uneasy to think that she had provoked the conflict But it
couldn't be helped now; she couldn't interfere. Besides, men were
always fightin' about somethin' or other.
Mr. Crew, the Minister, had said right off that he'd make his mark in
the world; all the girls thought so too, and that was real good. She'd
have hated a stupid, ordinary man. Fancy being married to Seth Stevens,
and she shuddered; yet he was a sight better than any of the others; he
had even seemed handsome to her once. Ugh! Then Bancroft's face
came before her again, and remembering his kisses she flushed and
grew hot from head to foot. They would be married soon--right off. As
George hadn't the money, her father must give what he could and they'd
go East. Her father wouldn't refuse, though he'd feel bad p'r'aps; he
never refused her anythin'. If fifteen hundred dollars would be enough
for George alone, three thousand would do for both of them. Once
admitted as a lawyer, he would get a large practice: he was so clever
and hard-working. She was real glad that she'd be the means of giving
him the opportunity he wanted to win riches and position. But he must
begin in New York. She would help him on, and she'd see New York
and all the shops and elegant folk, and have silk dresses. They'd live in
a hotel and get richer and richer, and she'd drive about with--here she
grew hot again. The vision, however, was too entrancing to be shut out;
she saw herself distinctly driving in an open carriage, with a negro
nurse holding the baby all in laces in front, "jest too cute for anythin',"
and George beside her, and every one in Fifth Avenue starin'.
Sleep soon brought confusion into her picture of a happy future; but
when she awoke, the glad confidence of the previous night had given
place to self-reproach and fear. During the breakfast she scarcely spoke
or lifted her eyes. Her silent preoccupation was misunderstood by
Bancroft; he took it to mean that she didn't care what happened to him;
she was selfish, he decided. All the morning she went about the house
in a state of nervous restlessness, and at dinner-time her father noticed
her unusual pallor and low spirits. To the Elder, the meal-times were
generally a source of intense pleasure. He was never tired of feasting
his eyes upon his daughter when he could do so without attracting

attention, and he listened to her fluent obvious opinions on men and
things with a fulness of pride and joy which was difficult to divine
since his keenest feelings never stirred the impassibility of his features.
He had small power of expressing his thoughts, and even in youth he
had felt it impossible to render in words any deep emotion. For more
than forty years the fires of his nature had been "banked up." Reticent
and self-contained, he appeared to be hard and cold; yet his personality
was singularly impressive. About five feet ten in height, he was lean
and sinewy, with square shoulders and muscles of whipcord. His face
recalled the Indian type; the same prominent slightly beaked nose, high
cheek bones and large knot of jaw. But there the resemblance ended.
The eyes were steel-blue; the upper lip long; the mouth firm; short,
bristly, silver hair stood up all over his head, in defiant contrast to the
tanned, unwrinkled skin. He was clean-shaven, and looked less than his
age, which was fifty-eight.
All through the dinner he wondered anxiously what could so affect his
daughter, and how he could find out without intruding himself upon her
confidence. His great love for his child had developed in the Elder
subtle delicacies of feeling which are as the fragrance of love's humility.
In the afternoon Loo, dressed for walking, met him, and, of her own