r from expressing her emotions. She had inherited it,
doubtless enough, from him. Perhaps one day, between them, they would
break down the barrier, the strength of which seemed to lie in its very
flimsiness, its impalpability.

And then during college vacations, returning home with growing notions
and views of her own, she had found herself so often in antagonism with
him. His fierce puritanism, so opposed to all her enthusiasms. Arguing
with him, she might almost have been listening to one of his Cromwellian
ancestors risen from the dead. There had been disputes between him and
his work-people, and Joan had taken the side of the men. He had not been
angry with her, but coldly contemptuous. And yet, in spite of it all, if
he had only made a sign! She wanted to fling herself crying into his
arms and shake him--make him listen to her wisdom, sitting on his knee
with her hands clasped round his neck. He was not really intolerant and
stupid. That had been proved by his letting her go to a Church of
England school. Her mother had expressed no wish. It was he who had
selected it.

Of her mother she had always stood somewhat in fear, never knowing when
the mood of passionate affection would give place to a chill aversion
that seemed almost like hate. Perhaps it had been good for her, so she
told herself in after years, her lonely, unguided childhood. It had
forced her to think and act for herself. At school she reaped the
benefit. Self-reliant, confident, original, leadership was granted to
her as a natural prerogative. Nature had helped her. Nowhere does a
young girl rule more supremely by reason of her beauty than among her
fellows. Joan soon grew accustomed to having her boots put on and taken
off for her; all her needs of service anticipated by eager slaves,
contending with one another for the privilege. By giving a command, by
bestowing a few moments of her conversation, it was within her power to
make some small adoring girl absurdly happy for the rest of the day;
while her displeasure would result in tears, in fawning pleadings for
forgiveness. The homage did not spoil her. Rather it helped to develop
her. She accepted it from the beginning as in the order of things. Power
had been given to her. It was her duty to see to it that she did not use
it capriciously, for her own gratification. No conscientious youthful
queen could have been more careful in the distribution of her
favours--that they