The Kentons | Page 7

illustrative
documents of the history.
The interview that resulted in the 'Intelligencer' was the least evil that
came of this error. Kenton was amazed, and then consoled, and then
afflicted that Ellen was not disgusted with it; and in his conferences
with his wife he fumed and fretted at his own culpable folly, and tried
to get back of the time he had committed it, in that illusion which
people have with trouble that it could somehow be got rid of if it could
fairly be got back of; till the time came when his wife could no longer
share his unrest in this futile endeavor.
She said, one night when they had talked late and long, "That can't be
helped now; and the question is what are we going to do to stop it."
The judge evaded the point in saying, "The devil of it is that all the nice
fellows are afraid of her; they respect her too much, and the very thing
which ought to disgust her with this chap is what gives him his power
over her. I don't know what we are going to do, but we must break it off,
somehow."
"We might take her with us somewhere," Mrs. Kenton suggested.
"Run away from the fellow? I think I see myself! No, we have got to
stay and face the thing right here. But I won't have him about the house
any more, understand that. He's not to be let in, and Ellen mustn't see
him; you tell her I said so. Or no! I will speak to her myself." His wife
said that he was welcome to do that; but he did not quite do it. He
certainly spoke to his daughter about her, lover, and he satisfied
himself that there was yet nothing explicit between them. But she was
so much less frank and open with him than she had always been before
that he was wounded as well as baffled by her reserve. He could not get
her to own that she really cared for the fellow; but man as he was, and
old man as he was, he could not help perceiving that she lived in a fond

dream of him.
He went from her to her mother. "If he was only one-half the man she
thinks he is!"--he ended his report in a hopeless sigh.
"You want to give in to her!" his wife pitilessly interpreted. "Well,
perhaps that would be the best thing, after all."
"No, no, it wouldn't, Sarah; it would be the easiest for both of us, I
admit, but it would be the worst thing for her. We've got to let it run
along for a while yet. If we give him rope enough he may hang himself;
there's that chance. We can't go away, and we can't shut her up, and we
can't turn him out of the house. We must trust her to find him out for
herself."
"She'll never do that," said the mother. "Lottie says Ellen thinks he's
just perfect. He cheers her up, and takes her out of herself. We've
always acted with her as if we thought she was different from other
girls, and he behaves to her as if she was just like all of them, just as
silly, and just as weak, and it pleases her, and flatters her; she likes it."
"Oh, Lord!" groaned the father. "I suppose she does."
This was bad enough; it was a blow to his pride in Ellen; but there was
something that hurt him still worse. When the fellow had made sure of
her, he apparently felt himself so safe in her fondness that he did not
urge his suit with her. His content with her tacit acceptance gave the
bitterness of shame to the promise Kenton and his wife had made each
other never to cross any of their children in love. They were ready now
to keep that promise for Ellen, if he asked it of them, rather than answer
for her lifelong disappointment, if they denied him. But, whatever he
meant finally to do, he did not ask it; he used his footing in their house
chiefly as a basis for flirtations beyond it. He began to share his
devotions to Ellen with her girl friends, and not with her girl friends
alone. It did not come to scandal, but it certainly came to gossip about
him and a silly young wife; and Kenton heard of it with a torment of
doubt whether Ellen knew of it, and what she would do; he would wait
for her to do herself whatever was to be done. He was never certain
how much she had heard of the gossip when she came to her mother,
and said with the gentle