a face illumined-第41章

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with　applause　on　the　stage；　with　all　the　melodramatic　accessories

with　which　it　is　produce　mere　effect。　　Indeed；　from　her　education；

she　might　also　think　self…destruction　was　the　only　dignified　and

high…spirited　thing　to　do。



For　a　time　her　thoughts　took　the　coloring　of　high　tragedy。　　She

would　teach　this　proud　artist　a　lessen；　even　though　at　supreme　cost

to　herself。　　If　he　would　never　love　her；　she　would　make　it　certain

that　he　could　not　longer　despise　her。　　She　would　write　him　a　letter

that　would　harrow　his　very　soul；　informing　him　that　she　had　taken

his　hint　and　followed　his　suggestion。　　Since　he　had　thrown　away

the　emblem　of　herself　as　a　worthless　and　unsightly　thing；　she　had

thrown　herself　away；　so　that　faultless　taste　and　faultless　people

might　be　no　more　offended　by　the　presence　of　so　much　imperfection。



For　a　moment　her　eyes　glowed　with　exultation　over　his　imagined

dismay　as　he　read　this　message　from　one　to　whom　no　reparation　could

be　made；　and　then　better　and　more　wholesome　feelings　resumed　their

sway。　　Perverted；　misguided；　and　uncounselled　as　she　was；　she　was

too　young；　too　near　the　mother　heart　of　nature；　not　to　react　from

the　false　and　the　evil　towards　the　simple　and　the　true。



She　threw　herself　upon　her　couch。　　〃Oh；　that　I　might　live　and　be

happy！〃　she　sobbed。　　〃If　in　the　place　of　the　bitter　frost　of　his

words　and　manner　he　would　give　me　but　one　ray　of　kindness；　I　would

try　to　bloom；　even　though　but　a　poor　worm…eaten　bud。〃



Frowns　blight　far　more　flowers　than　October　nights。











Chapter　XXXIII。　　〃Hope　dies　Hard。〃









When　alone　with　his　friend　after　supper；　Stanton　broke　out；　〃Since

Ida　can't　exist　without　the　sight　of　that　wretch；　Sibley；　I　wish

she　would　follow　him　to　New　York。　　If　she　dotes　on　such　scum；　they

had　better　be　married；　as　far　as　such　people　can　be；　and　so　relieve

her　relatives　of　an　incubus　that　is　well…nigh　intolerable。〃



〃Are　you　absolutely　sure　that　she　does　dote　on　Sibley；　and　that

he　is　the　cause　of　her　evident　trouble？〃　asked　Van　Berg；　with　a

perplexed　frown　lowering　on　his　brow。



〃I'm　not　sure　of　anything　concerning　her　save　that　she　was　born　to

make　trouble。　　I　know　she　was　with　him　all　the　time　he　was　here；

and　since　he　was　metaphorically　kicked　off　the　premises　she　has

sulked　in　her　room。　　I　suppose；　of　course；　that　she　is　mortified；

and　hates　to　meet　people。　　Indeed；　from　a　remark　she　made；　some

one　must　have　snubbed　her　vigorously　to…day；　but　her　course　makes

everything　a　hundredfold　worse。　　I　am　besmirched　because　of　my

relationship。　　I　can　see　this　in　the　bearing　of　more　than　one；　and

even　Miss　Burton；　who　could　not　be　consciously　unkind　to　any　one；

keeps　me　at　a　distance　by　barriers；　which；　although　seemingly

viewless；　are　so　real　I　cannot　pass　them。〃



Van　Berg　surmised　that　the　evasive　tact　which　Miss　Burton　exercised

towards　his　friend　was　not　caused　by　his　relationship　to　Ida；　and

yet　was　compelled　to　admit　that　her　frank　and　friendly　bearing

towards　himself　was　scarcely　less　dispiriting。　　Her　manner；　as　a

rule；　was　so　plainly　that　of　a　friend　only；　that　were　it　not　for

occasional　and　furtive　glances　which　he　intercepted；　he　would　deem

his　prospects　little　better　than　Stanton's；　in　spite　of　all　that

had　passed　between　them。　　Even　in　these　stolen；　questioning；　longing

glances；　there　was　an　element　that　trouble　and　perplexed　him；　and

the　strange　thought　crossed　his　mind　that　when　she　looked　most

intently　she　did　not　see　Harold　Van　Berg；　but　an　intervening　vision。

Her　mystery；　however；　rendered　her　only　the　more　attractive；　and

she　seemed　like　a　good　angel　that　had　come　from　an　unknown　world

concerning　which　she　could　not　speak；　and　perhaps　he　could　not

understand。



Her　society　was　like　a　delicate　wine；　delightfully　exhilarating

while　enjoyed；　but　whose　effect　is　transient。　　He　was　provoked　at

himself　to　find　how　well　he　endured　her　absence；　and　how　content

he　was　with　the　genuine　friendship　she　was　evidently　forming　for

him。　　Sometimes　he　even　longed　for　more　of　the　absorbing　passion

which　he　saw　had　wholly　mastered　Stanton；　but　tried　to　satisfy

himself　by　reasoning　that　his　love　was　in　accordance　with　his　nature；

which　was　calm　and　constant；　rather　than　impulsive　and　passionate。



〃All　the　higher　faculties　of　my　soul　are　her　allies；〃　he　thought；

complacently。　　〃I　admire　honor；　and　even　reverence　her。　　She　could

walk　through　life　as　my　companion；　my　equal；　and　in　many　respects；

my　superior；〃　and　so　with　all　the　delicate　and　unobtrusive　tact　of

which　he　was　the　master　he　proposed　to　press　his　suit。



Since　Jennie　Burton　had　plainly　intimated　that；　like　King　Lear；

she　had　lost　her　woman's　kingdomher　heartand　so　was　not　able

to　reward　such　suit　and　service；　how　came　it　she　kept　poor　Stanton

at　a　distance；　but　welcomed　the　society　of　Van　Berg？　　Possibly　her

intuition　recognized　the　fact　that　in　the　case　of　Stanton　she　had

touched　the　heart；　but　had　won　the　mind　of　the　artist。　　The　first

seemed　disposed　to　give　all　and　to　demand　all。　　Stanton's　all

did　not　count　for　very　much　thus　far　in　her　estimation。　　She　had

recognized　the　character　he　had　brought　to　the　Lake　Housethat　of

a　pleasure…loving　man　of　the　worldand　she　was　far　too　modest　to

suppose　that　she　could　work　any　material　change　in　this　character。

Self…indulgent　by　nature；　she　believed　that　he　had　proposed　to

enjoy　a　summer　flirtation　with　one　whom　he　would　easily　forget　in

the　autumn；　and；　while　this　impression　lasted；　she　punished　him　by

requiring　that　he　should　be　the　chivalric　attendant　of　every　forlorn

female　in　the　house。　　When　she　believed；　however；　that　such　heart

as　he　possessed　was　truly　interested；　she　became　as　unapproachable

as　the　afternoon　horizon；　whose　rich　glow　is　seemingly　near；　but

can　never　be　reached。　　While　she　recognized　the　genuineness　of

his　passion；　she　did　not；　as　before　intimated；　regard　it　as　a　very

serious　affair。



〃Good　dinners　and　fairer　faces　than　mine　will　comfort　him　before

Christmas；〃　she　thought。



Few　know　themselvestheir　own　capabilities　of　joy；　suffering；　or

achievement。　　As　with　Ida；　Stanton　was　at　a　loss　to　understand　the

changes　in　his　own　character。　　It　was　quite　possible；　therefore；

that　Miss　Burton　should　misunderstand　him。　　Indeed　he　had；　as　yet；

but　little　place　in　her　sad　and　preoccupied　thoughts。



For　some　reason；　however；　Van　Berg's　society　had　for　her　a　peculiar

fascination　that　she　could　not　resist。　　She　scarcely　knew　whether

she　derived　from　it　more　of　pleasure　than　of　pain。　　She　often　asked

herself　this　question：



〃Which　were　better　for　a　traveller　in　the　desertto　see　a　mirage；

or　the　sands　only　in　all　their　barren　reality？〃



Her　judgment　said；　the　latter；　but　when　the　elusive　mirage　appeared；

she　looked　often　with　a　longing　wistfulness　that　might　well　suggest

a　pilgrim　that　was　athirst　and　famishing。



In　spite　of　her　quickness；　Van　Berg　occasionally　caught　something

of　this　expression；　and　while　he　drew　encouragement　from　it；　he

was　too　free　from　vanity　and　too　acute　an　observer　to　conclude　that

all　would　result　as　he　hoped。　　The　unwelcome　thought　would　come

that　he　was　only　the　occasion　and　not　the　cause；　of　these　furtive

glances。　　Was　her　heart　already　wedded　to　a　memory；　and　was　she

interested　in　him　chiefly　because　for　some　reason　he　gave　vividness

and　reality　to　that　memory？　　If　this　were　true；　what　more　had　he　to

hope　for　than　Stanton？　　If　this　were　true；　was　he　not　in　a　certain

sense　pursuing　a　shadow？　　Woud　success　be　success？　　Would　he　wish

to　clasp；　as　his　wife；　a　woman　whose　heart　had　been　buried　in　a

sepulchre　from　which　the　stone　might　never　be　rolled　away？



His　first　impression；　that　Miss　Burton　had　passed　through

some　experience；　some　ordeal　of　suffering　that　separated　her　from

ordinary　humanity；　often　reasserted　itself　more　strongly　than　ever。

At　times　her　flame…like　spirit　would　flash　up　with　a　glow　and

brilliancy　that　lighted　and　warmed　his　very　soul；　but　the　feeling

began　to　grow　upon　him　that　this　genial　fire　consumed　the　costliest

of　all　offeringsself。　　Did　not　her　own　broken　heart　and　shattered

hopes　supply　the　fuel？　　Instead　of　brooding　apart　over　some　misfortune

that　would　have　crushed　most　natures；　was　she　not　seeking　to　make

her　life　an　altar　on　which　she　laid　as　a　gift　to　others　the　best

treasures　of　her　woman's　soul？



The　more　closely　he　studied　her　character；　and　the　controlling

impulses　of　her　life；　the　more　sincere　became　his　admiration；

and　the　deeper　his　reverence。　　He　felt　with　truth　that　she　WAS　of

different　and　finer　clay　from　himself。



So　strong　was　this　impression；　that　the　thought　occurred　to　him　that

in　this　and　kindred　reasons　might　be　found　the　explanation　of　the

peculiar　regard　he　felt　for　her。　　He　had　virtually　offered　himself；

and　would　again　if　he　could　find　the　opportunity。　　If　he　were　sure

the　he　would　win　her；　he　would　exult　as　one　might　who　had　secured

the　revenue　of　a　kingdom；　the　purest　and　largest　gem　in　the　world；　or

some　other　possession　that　was　unique　and　priceless。　　The　whole　of

his　strong　intellectual　nature　would　be　jubilant　over　the　great

success　of　his　life。　　He　was　also　conscious　that　some　of　the

deepest　feelings　of　his　soul　were　interested。　　She　was　becoming

like　a　religion　to　him；　and　he　imagined　that　his　regard　for　her

was　somewhat　akin　to　that　of　a　devout　Catholic　for　a　patron　saint。



And　yet　he　was　compelled　to　admit　to　himself　that　he　did　not

lover　her　as　he　supposed　he　would　love　the　woman　he　hoped　to　make

his　wife。　　Why　was　his　heart　so　tranquil　and　his　pulse　so　steady？

Certainly　not　because　of　assured　success。　　Why　did　his　regard　differ

so　radically　from　Stanton's　consuming　passion？　　Should　Stanton

win　her　he　felt　that　he　could　still　seek　her　society　and　enjoy　her

friendship。　　The　prospect　of　never　winning　her　himself　did　not　rob

life　of　its　zest　and　color。　　On　the　contrary；　he　believed　that　she

would　ever　be　an　inspiration；　an　exquisite　ideal　realized　in　actual

life。　　As　such　he　could　not　lose　her　any　more　than　those　women　whom

poetry；　fiction；　and　history　had　placed　as　stars　in　his　firmament；

and　this　belief　so　contented　him　as　to　awaken　surprise。



As　he　returned　from　a　long　and　solitary　stroll　on　Monday　evening

he　soliloquized　complacently；　〃I　am　making　too　great　a　mystery　of

it　all。　　She　is　not　an　ordinary　woman。　　Why　should　I　feel　towards

her　the　ordinary　and　conventional　love　which　any　woman　might　evoke？

There　is　more　of　spirit　than　of　flesh　and　blood　in　her　exquisite

organization。　　Sorrow　has　refined　away　every　gross　and　selfish

element；　and　left　a　saint　towards　whom　devotion　is　far　more　seemly

and　natural　than　passion。　　She　awakens　in　me　a　regard　corresponding

to　her　own　nature；　and　I　thank　heaven　that　I　am　at　least　finely

enough　organized　to　understand　her　and　so　can　seek　to　win　her　in

accordance　with　the　subtle　laws　of　her　b