he could have answered him. And she knew not what to
think. Could it be right, in a position of power and responsibility, to
acknowledge evil and deal with it as evil? That was, in effect, the gist
of Mr. Flint's contention. She did not know. She had never (strangely
enough, she thought) sought before to analyze the ethical side of her
father's character. One aspect of him she had shared with her mother,
that he was a tower of defence and strength, and that his name alone had
often been sufficient to get difficult things done.

Was he right in this? And were his opponents charlatans, or dupes, or
idealists who could never be effective? Mr. Crewe wanted an office; Tom
Gaylord had a suit against the road, and Austen Vane was going to bring
that suit! What did she really know of Austen Vane? But her soul cried
out treason at this, and she found herself repeating, with intensity, "I
believe in him! I believe in him!" She would have given worlds to have
been able to stand up before her father and tell him that Austen would
not bring the suit at this time that Austen had not allowed his name to
be mentioned for office in this connection, and had spurned Mr. Crewe's
advances. But she had not seen Austen since February.

What was his side of it? He had never told her, and she respected
his motives--yet, what was his side? Fresh from the inevitably deep
impressions which her father's personality had stamped upon her, she
wondered if Austen could cope with the argument before which she had
been so helpless.

The fact that she made of each of these two men the embodiment of
a different and opposed idea did not occur to Victoria until that
afternoon. Unconsciously, each had impersonated the combatants in a
struggle which was going on in her own breast. Her father himself,
instinctively, had chosen Austen Vane for his antagonist without knowing
that she had an interest in him. Would Mr. Flint ever know? Or would the
time come when she would be forced to take a side? The blood mounted to
her temples as she put the question from her.

CHAPTER XIX. MR. JABE JENNEY ENTERTAINS

Mr. Flint had dropped the subject with his last remark, nor had Victoria
attempted to pursue it. Bewildered and not a little depressed (a new
experience for her), she had tried to hide her feelings. He, too,
was harassed and tired, and she had drawn him away from the bench and
through the pine woods to the pastures to look at his cattle and
the model b