“Lottie has her good points, too,” said Mrs. Kenton.  “And, of course, I don’t blame Richard.  There are all kinds of girls, and Lottie means no more harm than Ellen does.  She’s the kind that can’t help attracting; but I always knew that Ellen was attractive, too, if she would only find it out.  And I knew that as soon as anything worth while took up her mind she would never give that wretch another thought.”

Kenton followed her devious ratiocinations to a conclusion which he could not grasp.  “What do you mean, Sarah?”

“If I only,” she explained, in terms that did not explain, “felt as sure of him as I do about him!”

Her husband looked densely at her.  “Bittridge?”

“No.  Mr. Breckon.  He is very nice, Rufus.  Yes, he is!  He’s been showing me the map of Holland, and we’ve had a long talk.  He isn’t the way we thought—­or I did.  He is not at all clerical, or worldly.  And he appreciates Ellen.  I don’t suppose he cares so much for her being cultivated; I suppose she doesn’t seem so to him.  But he sees how wise she is—­how good.  And he couldn’t do that without being good himself!  Rufus!  If we could only hope such a thing.  But, of course, there are thousands after him!”

“There are not thousands of Ellens after him,” said the judge, before he could take time to protest.  “And I don’t want him to suppose that she is after him at all.  If he will only interest her and help her to keep her mind off herself, it’s all I will ask of him.  I am not anxious to part with her, now that she’s all ours again.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Kenton soothingly assented.  “And I don’t say that she dreams of him in any such way.  She can’t help admiring his mind.  But what I mean is that when you see how he appreciates her, you can’t help wishing he could know just how wise, and just how good she is.  It did seem to me as if I would give almost anything to have him know what she had been through with that—­rapscallion!”

“Sarah!”

“Oh, you may Sarah me!  But I can tell you what, Mr. Kenton:  I believe that you could tell him every word of it, and only make him appreciate her the more.  Till you know that about Ellen, you don’t know what a character she is.  I just ached to tell him!”

“I don’t understand you, my dear,” said Kenton.  “But if you mean to tell him—­”

“Why, who could imagine doing such a thing?  Don’t you see that it is impossible?  Such a thing would never have come into my head if it hadn’t been for some morbid talk of Ellen’s.”

“Of Ellen’s?”

“Oh, about wanting to disgust him by telling him why she was such a burden to us.”

“She isn’t a burden!”

“I am saying what she said.  And it made me think that if such a person could only know the high-minded way she had found to get out of her trouble!  I would like somebody who is capable of valuing her to value her in all her preciousness.  Wouldn’t you be glad if such a man as he is could know how and why she feels free at last?”