"He disapproved. Ivan was ignored, after that. He was quietly crowded out. My father," she could not resist saying,—"my father was very intolerant of new leadership."
"Naturally! He thought of the general good."
Rose sighed.
"Perhaps he did, Electra; I should like to think he did."
But she had told Electra nothing yet, she realized, to keep her from going forth with an ignorant intent. She tried once more, not to destroy the image of MacLeod, but to make it a just one. Yet if it were better to have the image broken, that, too, must be done.
"My father," she said, "took life like a great play."
"A game!" put in Electra quickly. She had heard him use the word, though as he said it, it seemed noble.
"Yes. He was always rearranging scenes on the big stage, ringing down the curtain and putting it up on another act. But what Ivan Gorof wanted—that silent spread of good—that he couldn't understand. He wanted war and himself a big figure in the midst."
"He was a leader!" cried Electra jealously, "the greatest of all."
Rose smiled wistfully.