“I need no assistance in managing my family,” said Clearwater, in cold fury. He bowed, “Good day, sir.”
Helm hesitated, then bowed with simple dignity and withdrew. Clearwater watched at one of the windows until he saw him walking slowly out of the grounds and down the street--tall and lean, awkwardly dressed. Said Clearwater aloud with an angry sneer: “He looks as if he belonged at the servants’ entrance.” The remark was not without justification, yet Clearwater knew--and the knowledge enraged him--that there was in the air of that figure, in the expression of that face, a quality, far removed from the menial, or even the humble. And it was that quality that made the arrogant and confident old man a little nervous as he awaited the coming of the daughter for whom he had sent as soon as Helm disappeared round the corner.
As Eleanor came in, radiant, expectant, she gave a quick glance round and exclaimed:
To “papa” George had up to this time been simply what one man is to another--simply a specimen of the male sex. In this case, not a specimen likely to appeal strongly to the female sex, according to Clearwater’s notion of female likes and dislikes in males. But Eleanor’s look and tone put a sudden very different complexion on the matter. Clearwater abruptly realized that his daughter--this lovely, delicate creature of fine manners, speech and raiment--was in love with the lanky, baggily-dressed fellow, half crank, half knave and altogether detestable.
This discovery, thus all in an instant made real to the father, instead of angering him, threw him into a panic. And out of panic, with its chaos of fermenting emotions, any emotion is as likely to emerge as any other. No one, in a panic, can predict whether he will emerge furious and implacable or trembling and abject. The reason for the panic was his adoration of his daughter. Rarely is there any greater intimacy between father and daughter than friendly acquaintance. But almost always there is a tenacious and worshipful admiration--which, naturally, forbids the frankness of intimacy because each fears that the delusion of the other would be impaired, if not destroyed, should the truth of human weakness come out. The daughter adores the father as the superior type of the superior sex; the father adores the daughter as the embodiment of the female sex’s two awe-inspiring charms, beauty and purity. Clearwater thought his daughter the most beautiful woman in the world, and an angel for purity--certainly, such purity could have no place in the mud-geyser of the world as he knew it. And he was now in terror lest she, idealist, ignorant of the realities, should not understand his attitude toward Helm. No doubt the fellow had talked his theories to her--and they were just the sort of stuff that would appeal to idealism and worldly-ignorance.