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 accord, began the conversation:

"Father, I want to talk to you."

The Elder put down the water-bucket he had been carrying, and drew the
shirt-sleeves over his nervous brown arms, whether out of unconscious
modesty or simple sense of fitness it would be impossible to say. She
went on hesitatingly, "I want to know--Do you think Mr. Bancroft's