. Conklin all about her early life. Her father had been a
large farmer in Amherst County, Massachusetts; her childhood had been
comfortable and happy: "We always kept one hired man right through the
winter, and in summer often had eight and ten; and, though you mightn't
think it now, I was the belle of all the parties." Dave (her husband)
had come to work for her father, and she had taken a likin' to him,
though he was such a "hard case." She told of Dave's gradual conversion
and of the Revivalist Minister, who was an Abolitionist as well, and had
proclaimed the duty of emigrating to Kansas to prevent it from becoming
a slave state. Dave, it appeared, had taken up the idea zealously, and
had persuaded her to go with him. Her story became pathetic in spite
of her self-pity as she related the hardships of that settlement in
the wilds, and described her loneliness, her shivering terror when her
husband was away hauling logs for their first home, and news came that
the slave-traders from Missouri had made another raid upon the scattered
Abolitionist farmers. The woman had evidently been unfit for such
rude transplanting. She dwelt upon the fact that her husband had never
understood her feelings. If he had, she wouldn't have minded so much.
Marriage was not what girls thought; she had not been happy since
she left her father's house, and so forth. The lament was based on
an unworthy and futile egoism, but her whining timidity appeared to
Bancroft inexplicable. He did not see that just as a shrub pales and
dies away under the branches of a great tree, so a weak nature is apt
to be further enfeebled by association with a strong and self-contained
character. In those early days of loneliness and danger the Elder's
steadfastness and reticence had prevented him from affording to his wife
the sympathy which might have enabled her to overcome her fears. "He
never talked anythin' over with me," was the burden of her complaint.
Solitude had killed every power in her save vanity, and the form her
vanity took was peculiarly irritating to her husband, and in a lesser
degree to her daughter, for neither the Elder nor Loo would have founded
self-esteem on adventitious advantages of upbringing. Accordingly, Mrs.
Conklin was never more than an uncomfortable shadow in her own house,
and this evening her repeated attempts to bring about a semblance of
conversation only made the silence and preoccupation of the others
painfully evident.

As so