only two facts,--Flip
_had_ a brother who was missing; she had a lover present in the flesh.

How much of the substance of this and previous letters Flip had
confided to her father I cannot say. If she suppressed anything it was
probably that which affected Lance's secret alone, and it was doubtful
how much of that she herself knew. In her own affairs she was frank
without being communicative, and never lost her shy obstinacy even with
her father. Governing the old man as completely as she did, she
appeared most embarrassed when she was most dominant; she had her own
way without lifting her voice or her eyes; she seemed oppressed by
_mauvaise honte_ when she was most triumphant; she would end a
discussion with a shy murmur addressed to herself, or a single gesture
of self-consciousness.

The disclosure of her strange relations with an unknown man, and the
exchange of presents and confidences, seemed to suddenly awake Fairley
to a vague, uneasy sense of some unfulfilled duties as a parent. The
first effect of this on his weak nature was a peevish antagonism to the
cause of it. He had long, fretful monologues on the vanity of
diamond-making, if accompanied with "pestering" by "interlopers;" on
the wickedness of concealment and conspiracy, and their effects on
charcoal-burning; on the nurturing of spies and "adders" in the family
circle, and on the seditiousness of dark and mysterious councils in
which a gray-haired father was left out. It was true that a word or
look from Flip generally brought these monologues to an inglorious and
abrupt termination, but they were none the less lugubrious as long as
they lasted. In time they were succeeded by an affectation of contrite
apology and self-depreciation. "Don't go out o' the way to ask the old
man," he would say, referring to the quantity of bacon to be ordered;
"it's nat'ral a young gal should have her own advisers." The state of
the flour-barrel would also produce a like self-abasement. "Unless
ye're already in correspondence about more flour, ye might take the
opinion o' the first tramp ye meet ez to whether Santa Cruz Mills is a
good brand, but don't ask the old man." If Flip was in conversation
with the butcher, Fairley would obtrusively retire with the hope "he
wasn't intrudin' on their secrets."

These phases of her father's weakness were not frequent enough to
excite her alarm, but she could not help noticing they were accompanied
with a seriousness unusual to him