He always interested her, for he meant power. Ellis, Pease, Fenno: such was their rank in the town; but Judith felt, as she welcomed him, that he was as a king about to abdicate, looking back on his reign with weary eyes, and measuring by a standard of his own. He was one to whom others were aggregations of forces—potentialities, not men. His heavy head with its thick hair and deep eyes reminded her more than ever of an old lion; the rumble of his voice gave force to his slightest word.
Judith told him she would send for Beth. "No, my dear," he said, "I am glad Beth is not here. I came to see you." With some wonder she led him into the parlour, where Mr. Fenno handed her a note and watched her while she read it. It was the usual short formula: "Mr. and Mrs. William Fenno regret that they cannot accept——," etc.
"I am sorry," said Judith as she folded up the paper.
"That is my wife's answer," explained Mr. Fenno. "I came to give you my own in person." But then he gazed at her in silence until she became restive under the scrutiny. "My dear Miss Judith," he said suddenly, "I like you very much."
"Mr. Fenno," she returned, "you scarcely know me."
"I have watched you a great deal," he replied. "I like your spirit, your rebellion against the stupid life we lead. Upon my word, I don't know what business your father has with two such daughters; he doesn't appreciate you, I'm sure. I'll change with him and welcome.—There, don't be offended with me. I come to beg you to be moderate. Remember that I speak to you with the voice of generations. Not even you can afford to disregard the wisdom of the fathers."
"I do not wish to," she answered, puzzled.
"My wife," he said, "would write that note and let the matter pass. But I want to thank you, first, for so frankly putting your purpose in your invitation. 'To meet Mr. Ellis.' We might have come, indeed we should have come, but for that. But we can't mix with him, Miss Judith."
"It seems to me," she returned, "that the wisdom of the fathers usually means crystallisation, sir."
"My wife," he said, "is beyond crystallisation: she is dead. Of course she goes through the form of living. She called you 'that young woman' when she received the invitation, and wrote as you see, from the dead in heaven to the dead in—limbo. But, my dear girl, did you ever hear of me agreeing with my wife? Almost never! This time I did."