It was at this time that Mr. Van Ness began to monopolize the house: the very air of it grew bland and decorous. He came early, and stayed until night. The captain treated him with reverential deference: Jane fell into the same habit. She was weak and suasible as a reed just now. She had lost all root and marrow out of her life. Every day her father dilated on Mr. Van Ness's virtues. She could not deny one of them. They began to fence her in as with smooth polished walls, with no breath inside. Bruno, alone inexorable, never allowed him to pass without a snap and growl, although he had yielded enough to the pressure of public opinion not to fly at his throat.
"Mr. Van Ness, my dear," said the captain one day, "has been good enough to look into the affairs of the farm. He says the income from it should be trebled. Ask his advice, Jane. Especially as to turnips. We failed there. What intellectual scope that man has! It grasps a vast theory one moment and the minutest detail the next."
"Yes, father." It mattered little to Jane who meddled with the farm now.
"Mr. Van Ness"—the next day—"was glancing over your book-shelves this morning, Jane. A course of reading such as he would dictate would be of immeasurable benefit to you."
"I know it," humbly. "I am shamefully ignorant."
"Why not put yourself wholly into his care, Jenny?" taking her hand tenderly. "He is one of the best of men."
"I believe he is," candidly.
At this moment the reformer came in sight on the lawn without, the full sunshine falling on him. They both looked at him.
"His intellect is of a high calibre, Jenny: he saw into that idea of mine for the gauge to-day in an instant."
Jane nodded dully.