Janet McIvor Character Analysis

The struggle between them was fierce. Till Lachlan came, [Janet] had been used to going her own way, unconditioned and free. She had no limit to herself. Now she resented his easy assumption that he was superior, should take the lead in all their doings, and that she must naturally yield to him.

[Ellen] lived in the demands of the moment, in the girls, in Lachlan, and was too high-spirited, too independent, to care whether other women approved of her.

[Janet] saw something else as well. That in playing his part, Mr. Abbot had no more to do than Hector had. They only thought they were playing, because Leona managed things so cleverly, putting words into their mouths they they had never in fact spoken, and taking both parts herself.

[Janet] loved the way, while you were dealing with [the bees], you had to submit yourself to their side of things.

[Janet] was surprised, reading his letter, by its courtesy, its tentativeness, its tenderness she might have said, and recalling her own prickly tone felt foolish.

“I sometimes think that that was all I ever knew of him: what struck me in that moment before I knew him at all. When he was up there [on the fence] before he fell, poor fellow, and became just—there’s nothing clear in my head of what he might have been before that, and afterwards he was just Gemmy, someone we loved.”

The struggle between them was fierce. Till Lachlan came, [Janet] had been used to going her own way, unconditioned and free. She had no limit to herself. Now she resented his easy assumption that he was superior, should take the lead in all their doings, and that she must naturally yield to him.

[Ellen] lived in the demands of the moment, in the girls, in Lachlan, and was too high-spirited, too independent, to care whether other women approved of her.

[Janet] saw something else as well. That in playing his part, Mr. Abbot had no more to do than Hector had. They only thought they were playing, because Leona managed things so cleverly, putting words into their mouths they they had never in fact spoken, and taking both parts herself.

[Janet] loved the way, while you were dealing with [the bees], you had to submit yourself to their side of things.

[Janet] was surprised, reading his letter, by its courtesy, its tentativeness, its tenderness she might have said, and recalling her own prickly tone felt foolish.

“I sometimes think that that was all I ever knew of him: what struck me in that moment before I knew him at all. When he was up there [on the fence] before he fell, poor fellow, and became just—there’s nothing clear in my head of what he might have been before that, and afterwards he was just Gemmy, someone we loved.”