a face illumined-第39章

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if　nothing　could　rouse　or　sting　her　out　of　the　dull　apathy　into　which

she　had　reacted　after　the　desperate　excitement　of　the　preceding　day。

She　pleaded　illness；　and　stubbornly　refused　to　go　down　to　dinner。

At　last　her　mother；　much　to　her　relief；　left　her　to　herself；　and

went　out　to　drive　with　Stanton；　hoping　that　she　might　hit　upon　some

plan　of　action　in　regard　to　the　two　difficult　problems　presented

in　her　husband　and　daughter。



Towards　evening　Ida　slowly　and　languidly　dressed　for　supper；　and

then　sauntered　down　to　the　main　piazza　for　a　little　fresh　air。



The　poor　girl　did　not　exaggerate　the　shadow　that　had　fallen　upon

her　association　with　Sibley；　and　her　supposed　grief　and　resentment

at　his　treatment。　　Two　or　three　whom　she　met　bowed　coldly　and

distantly；　and　one　passed　without　recognition。　　Even　Jennie　Burton

had　been　indignant　all　day　that　one　of　her　sex　could　be　infatuated

with　such　a　fellow；　and　in　her　charitable　thoughts　she　would　be

glad　to　explain　such　perversity　as　the　result　of　a　disordered　and

uncurbed　fancy；　rather　than　of　a　depraved　heart。



It　was　not　strange；　however；　that　she　should　suppose　Ida's　manner

and　indisposition　were　caused　by　Sibley's　ignominious　ejectment　from

the　house；　when　her　own　mother　and　cousin　shared　the　same　view。



What　an　unknown　mystery　each　life　is；　even　to　the　lives　nearest　to

it！



As　with　slow；　heavy　steps；　Ida　approached　the　main　entrance；　she

noted　the　distant　manner　of　those　she　met；　and　divined　the　cause；

but　her　apathy　was　so　great　that　neither　anger　nor　shame　brought

the　faintest　color　to　her　cheeks。



She　stood　in　the　doorway　and　looked　out　a　few　moments；　but　the

lovely　summer　landscape；　with　the　cool　shadows　lengthening　across

it；　was　a　weariness；　and　she　turned　from　it　as　the　miserable　do

from　sights　that　only　mock　by　their　pleasant　contrast。



The　piazza　was　nearly　empty；　but　before　she　stepped　out　upon　it

she　saw　not　far　away　a　gentleman　reading；　who　at　last　did　cause

the　blood　to　rush　tumultuously　into　her　face。



At　another　time　she　would　have　turned　hastily　from　him；　but　in　her

present　morbid　mood　she　acted　from　a　different　impulse。　　The　artist

had　not　observed　her　approach；　and　standing　a　little　back　in　the

shadow　of　the　hall…way　she　found　a　cruel　fascination　in　comparing

the　man　she　loved　with　the　low　fellow　whose　shadow　now　fell　so　darkly

across　her　own　character。　　She　looked　steadily　at　his　downcast　face

until　every　line　and　curve　in　his　strong　profile　was　impressed　on

her　memory。　　In　the　healthful　color　of　his　finely…chiseled　features

there　were　no　indications　of　that　excess　which　already　marred　Sibley's

countenance。　　The　decided　contour　corresponded　with　the　positive

nature。　　The　unhappy　girl　felt　instinctively　that　if　he　were　on　her

side；　he　would　be　a　faithful　ally；　but　if　against　her；　she　would

find　his　inflexible　will　a　granite　wall　against　all　the　allurements

of　her　beauty。　　The　face　before　her　indicated　a　man　controlled　by

his　higher；　not　lower　nature；　and　in　her　deep　humiliation　she　now

felt　that　even　if　he　knew　all　that　was　passing　in　her　heart；　he

would　bestow　only　transient　pity；　mingled　with　contempt。



She　believed　she　could　hope　for　nothing　from　him；　and　yet；　did　not

that　belief　leave　her　hopeless？　　To　what　else；　to　whom　else　could

she　turn？　　Nothing　else；　no　one　else　then　seemed　to　promise　any　help；

any　happiness。　　Her　wretched　experience　had　come　as　unexpectedly　as

one　of　those　mysterious　waves　that　sweep　the　sunny　shore　of　Peru。

Whither　it　would　carry　her　she　did　not　know；　but　every　moment　separated

her　more　hopelessly　from　him　who　appeared　like　an　immovable　rock

in　his　quiet　strength。



She　was　turning　despondently　away　when　she　heard　Jennie　Burton's

voice；　and　a　moment　later　that　young　lady　mounted　the　adjacent

steps　and　said　to　Van　Berg：



〃See　what　a　prize　I　captured　at　this　late　season。　　Roses　early　in

August　are　like　hidden　treasures。　　See；　they　are　genuine　hybrids。

Have　I　not　had　rare　good　fortune？〃



Van　Berg　rose　at　once；　and　met　her　at　the　top　of　the　steps；　and

Ida；　who　still　remained　unseen　in　the　hall；　now　stepped　forward

into　the　doorway；　so　that　she　might　not　seem　a　furtive　listener；

as　he　was　standing　with　his　back　towards　her。



〃Had　I　my　way；　Miss　Burton；〃　said　the　artist；　〃you　should　have　this

rare　good　fortune　every　day　of　the　year。〃



She　blushed　slightly；　and　said；　rather　coldly；　〃Good　evening；　Miss

Mayhew；〃　thus　rendering　Van　Berg　aware　of　the　latter's　presence。

The　artist　only　frowned；　and　gave　no　other　recognition　of　Ida's

proximity。



〃Since　you　can't　have　your　way；　I　shall　make　the　most　of　my　present

good　fortune。　　Is　not　that　a　beautiful　cluster？〃



〃It　is　indeed；　with　one　exception。　　Do　you　not　see　that　this

defective　bud　mars　the　beauty　of　all　the　others？〃



〃A　'worm　I'　the　bud　fell　on　its　damask　cheek。'　　I　took　it　out　and

killed　it；　and　was　in　hopes　that　if　I　placed　the　injured　flower　in

water　with　the　others　it　might　still　make　a　partial　bloom。　　You　will

think　me　absurd　when　I　tell　you　I　felt　sorry　for　it；　and　thought

how　many　roses　and　lives　would　be　more　perfect　were　it　not　for　some

gnawing　'worm　i'　the　bud。'〃



〃The　'worm'　in　Shakespeare's　allusion；〃　said　the　artist；　lightly；

〃is　redeemed　by　its　association　and　symbolism；　but　the　one　that

has　been　at　work　here　was　a　disagreeably　prosaic　thing　that　you

rightly　put　your　foot　upon。　　The　bud；　as　it　now　appears；　suggest

the　worm　more　than　anything　else。　　So；　please；　let　me　cut　it　out；

for　art　cannot　tolerate　anything　so　radically　marred　and　defective。

Its　worm…eaten　heart　spoils　the　beauty　of　the　entire　cluster。〃



〃I　fear　you　artists　become　too　critical　and　exacting。　　Well；　cut

it　out。　　I　will　submit　to　art　in　roses；　but　feel　that　marred　and

defective　lives　should　have　very　different　treatment。〃



〃That　depends。　　If　people　persist　in　cherishing　some　worm　of　evil；

they　cannot　expect　to　be　held　in　the　same　esteem　as　those　who　are

aiming　at　a　more　perfect　development。　　There；　now！　does　not　our

cluster　appear　much　better？〃



〃Yes；　and　yet　I　cannot　help　feeling　sorry　for　the　poor　little　bud

that　has　missed　its　one　chance　to　bloom；　and　all　will　wither　unless

I　hasten　to　my　room　and　put　them　in　water。〃



In　her　prejudice　against　Ida　she　had　not　looked　towards　her　while

talking　with　Van　Berg；　but　in　passing；　a　hasty　glance　almost　caused

her　to　stay　and　speak　to　her；　for　she　thought　she　saw　her　eyes

full　of　unshed　tears。　　But　her　glance　was　brief　and　her　prejudice

strong。　　Miss　Burton　had　not　a　little　of　the　wholesome　feminine

intolerance　for　certain　weaknesses　in　her　sex。　　She　would　counsel

a　wife　to　endure　a　bad　husband　with　a　meek　and　patient　spirit。　　But

gentle　as　she　was；　she　would　scorn　the　maiden　who　could　be　attracted

by　a　corrupt　man；　and　almost　loathe　her　for　indulging　in　such

an　affinity。　　She　could　pity　Idashe　could　pity　any　one；　but　the

poor　girl's　unfortunate　association　with　Sibley；　and　her　seeming

interest　in　him；　would　subordinate　pity　to　indignation　and　contempt。

Her　thought　was　this：



〃Miss　Mayhew　is　still　a　maiden　free　to　choose。　　Shame　on　her　that

she　chooses　so　ignobly！　　Shame　on　her　that　she　turns　her　eyes

longingly　to　fetid　pools；　instead　of　upward　to　the　breezy　hills。

What　kind　of　nature　is　that　which　prompts　such　a　choice？〃



The　artist　was　more　capable　of　Jennie　Burton's　indignation　and

contempt　than　of　her　pity；　and　although　he　knew　Ida　still　stood

in　the　doorway　he　did　not　turn　to　speak　to　her。　　His　very　attitude

seemed　to　indicate　to　the　unhappy　girl　a　haughty　indifference；　and

yet　she　was　so　unhappy；　so　in　need　of　a　kind　word　or　reassuring

glance　that　she　could　not　turn　away。



〃What　a　wretched　mystery　it　all　is；〃　she　thought。　　〃I　ought　to　hate；

yet　I　love　him。　　Proud　as　I　have　thought　myself；　I　could　kneel　at

his　feet　for　one　such　word　and　glance　as　he　just　gave　Miss　Burton。

For　contempt　I　return　him　honor　and　admiration。　　I　cannot　help

myself。　　By　some　strange　perversity　of　my　heart；　I　have　become

his　very　slave。　　How　can　he　be　so　blind！　　He　thinks　me　pining　for

a　man　that　I　despise　and　hate　more　than　he　ever　can；　though　the

fellow　attempted　his　life。　　Sibley　has　come　between　me　and　that

which　is　more　than　lifemy　chance　for　happiness　and　right　living。

I　shall　become　desperate　and　bad；　like　him；　if　this　continues。

How　strange　it　is　that　some　sense；　some　instinct　does　not　tell　him

there　that　the　girl　who　stands　so　near　is　lavishing　every　treasure

of　her　soul　upon　him！



〃That　poor　little　rose…bud　represents　me　to　his　mind。　　How　ruthlessly

he　is　pulling　open　its　heart！　　Will　he　see　anything　else　there　save

the　work　of　the　destroyer？　　Can　it　not　awaken　a　thought　of　pity？

I　willI　must　speak　to　him。〃



She　took　a　hesitating　step　or　two　towards　him。　　She　could　almost

hear　her　heart　beat。　　Twice；　thrice；　words　died　upon　her　lips。

When　was　she　ever　so　timid　before！　　If　he　would　only　give　her　an

encouraging　glance！　　If　he　would　only　turn　a　little　towards　her

and　relax　that　haughty；　unbending　attitude…



〃Mr。　Van　Berg；〃　she　said　at　last；　in　a　voice　that　was　constrained

and　hard　from　her　effort　to　be　calm；　〃you　seem　very　vindictive

towards　that　poor　little　flower。〃



He　turned　partially　towards　her　and　coldly　said；　〃Good　evening　Miss

Mayhew；〃　then；　after　a　second；　added　carelessly：　　〃I　admit　that

this　worm…eaten　bud　is　rather　vexatious。　　It　haswhat　is　left

of　itexquisite　color；　and　in　form　nature　had　designed　it　to　be

perfect；　but〃　（with　a　slight　contemptuous　shrug）　〃you　see　what　it

is；〃　and　he　tossed　it　down　into　the　roadway。



Her　face　was　very　pale　and　her　voice　low；　as　she　answered：　　〃And

so　you　condemn　it　to　be　trampled　under　foot。〃



〃I　condemn　it！　　Not　at　all。　　Its　own　imperfection　condemns　it。〃



〃The　result　is　all　the　same；〃　she　replied；　with　sudden　change

of　manner。　　〃It　is　tossed　contemptuously　away　to　be　trodden　under

foot。　　Dull　and　ignorant　as　you　discovered　me　to　be；　Mr。　Van　Berg；

I　am　not　so　stupid　but　that　I　can　understand　you　this　evening。

Imperfect　as　I　am　I　could　pity　that　unfortunate　flower　whose

fragrance　rose　to　you　like　a　low　appeal　for　a　little　consideration；

at　least。　　Would　it　not　have　bloomed　as　perfectly　as　the　others　if

the　worm　had　let　it　alone？　　But；　I　suppose；　with　artist；　if　roses

or　human　lives　are　imperfect；　that　is　the　end　of　them。　　Misfortune

counts　for　nothing。〃



Van　Berg　listened　in　surprise　to　these　words；　and　his　haughty

complacency　was　decidedly　disturbed。　　He　was　about　to　reply　that

〃Evil　chosen　and　cherished　was　not　a　misfortune　but　a　fault；〃　when

she　turned　from　him　with　more　than　her　former　coldness　and　entered

the　house。



An　impulse　that　he　would　have　found　difficult　to　analyze　led　him

to　descend　the　steps　and　pick　up　the　symbolic　bud；　now　torn　and

withering　fast；　and　to　place　it　between　the　leaves　of　his　note…book。



If　she　had　only　see