But Ida was not to be found.
She appeared at dinner, however, and not a few looked at her, and stole furtive glances again and again. Among these observers was the artist, and it was evident that he was both perplexed and troubled. Was this cold, marble-cheeked woman the b.u.t.terfly that had fluttered into the country a few weeks since?
"She may be a bad woman," he thought, "but she has become a woman in the last few days. She looks years older. I thought her shallow, but she"s too deep for me. For some reason I can"t a.s.sociate that face, as it now appears, with Sibley, and yet it is so full of mingled pain and defiance, that one might almost think she meditated a crime. She looks ill. She is ill--she is growing thin and hollow-eyed. What a magnificent study she would make of a half-famished captive; or of beauty chained--not married to a man hateful and hated; or, possibly, of innocence meditating guilt, and yet seeking vainly to disguise the dark thoughts by a marble mask. There is some transforming process going on in Ida Mayhew"s mind, and from her appearance I rather dread the outcome; but her face is becoming a rare study."
Although with the exception of a slight response to his formal bow she had sought to ignore his presence and to avoid his eyes, she was still conscious of this furtive scrutiny, and it hurt her cruelly. It seemed as if he were studying her as one might a peculiar specimen.
"His critical eyes are trying to look into me heart as they did into the poor little rose-bud," she thought; and her face grew more rigid and inscrutable under his gaze. as early as possible she left the table.
"I wish I knew just what her trouble was," thought the artist. "If not connected with that wretch Sibley, I could pity her with all my heart. Well, take all the good the G.o.ds send, I"ll sketch her face this afternoon as I have last seen it."
"Your cousin begins to look decidedly ill," he said to Stanton, after dinner.
His friend"s only reply was an imprecation.
"Your remark is emphatic enough, but I don"t understand it any better than I do Miss Mayhew."
"It"s to your credit you don"t. Her mother has reason to believe that there is some deviltry on foot between her and Sibley. I"m to find out and thwart her if I can. I suppose I shall have to say, in substance: "Since you will throw yourself away on the fellow, go through all the formalities that society demands. In such case your family will submit, if they can"t approve. You see I"m frank with you, as I"ve been from the first." Would to heaven she had never come here, and now think of it there has been a change in her for the worse ever since she came. It must be the influence of that cursed Sibley. Some women are fools to begin with; but from a fool infatuated with a villain, good Lord deliver us!"
"You fear an elopement then?" said Van Berg, his face darkening into his deepest frown.
"I fear worse than that. Sibley is as treacherous as a quagmire.
If a woman ventured into a false position with him he would marry her only when compelled to do so. I"m savage enough to shoot them both this afternoon. I see but one way out. I must warn her promptly, and in language so emphatic that she will understand it, that everything must be after the regulation style."
Van Berg made a gesture of contempt, but said to his friend:
"Stanton, I"m sorry for you. Such trouble as this would cut me deeper than any other kind. If I can do anything to help you, count on me. I"m in the mood myself to shoot Sibley, for he has spoiled for me the fairest face that evil ever perverted."
Van Berg did not sketch Ida Mayhew"s face that afternoon. On the contrary, he resolutely sought to banish her image from his mind.
When last he saw that face, it seemed made of Parian marble. Now it rose before him so blackened and besmirched that he thought of it only with anger and disgust.
Ida kept herself so secluded in the afternoon that Stanton could not find her, but this very seclusion, which the poor girl sought in order to hide her wounds, only increased his own and Mrs. Mayhew"s fears deepened their suspicions.
She was a little late in appearing at the super-table, for her return from the wanderings of the afternoon had required more time than she supposed. She was very weary; moreover, the hours spent in solitude with nature had quieted her overstrung nerves. The sun had shone upon her, though the world seemed to frown. Flowers had looked shyly and sweetly into her face as if they saw nothing there to criticise. She had plucked a few and fastened them into her breast-pin, and their faint perfume was like a low, soothing voice. She was in a softened and receptive mood, and a kind word, even a kind glance, might have tuned the scale in favor of better thoughts and better living.
But she did not receive them. Her coming to the table was greeted with an ominous silence, for each one was conscious of thoughts so greatly to her prejudice that they scarcely wished to meet her eye. Mrs. Mayhew looked excessively worried and anxious. Stanton was flushed and angry. The artist was icy as he only knew how to be when he deemed there was sufficient occasion; and in his opinion, the presence of the prospective and willing bride of the man who had attempted his life, and, what was far worse, insulted the woman he most honored, was occasion, indeed.
From time to time he gave her a cold, curious glance, as one might look at some strange, abnormal thing for which there is no accounting; but his slight scrutiny was no longer furtive. He looked at her openly as he would at an OBJECT, and not at a woman whose feelings he would not wound for the world. His thought was: "A creature akin to Sibley deserves no consideration, and can put in no just claim for delicacy."
Indeed he felt a peculiar vindictiveness towards her to-night, because she had so thwarted him, and was about to carry her extraordinary dower of beauty to the moral slough that seemingly awaited her. Therefore, his glance swept carelessly over her with a cold indifference that chilled her very soul.
But these transient glances caught enough to trouble him with a vague uneasiness. Although he was steeled against her by prejudice and anger, something in her appearance so pleaded in her favor that misgivings would arise. Once he thought she met his eyes with something like an appeal in her own, but he would not look long enough to be sure. A moment later he was vexed with himself that he had not.
The silence or the forced remarks at the table were equally oppressive, and Ida immediately felt that she was the cause of the restraint.
She was about to leave the table in order to relieve them of her presence, when Miss Burton unexpectedly entered and took her chair, which hitherto had been vacant. She was a little pale and wan, but this only made her look the more interesting, and both Stanton and Van Berg welcomed her as they would the sunshine after a dreary storm. Even Mrs. Mayhew seemed to find a wonderful relief in her coming, and added her voluble congratulations.
"I have had nervous headaches myself, and know how to sympathize with you," she concluded.
"She does not know how to sympathize with me," sighed her daughter.
The sigh caught Van Berg"s attention, and he was surprised to see that the maiden"s eyes were full of tears. She bowed her head a moment to hide them, and then abruptly left the table and the room.
The artist"s misgivings ended in something like compunction, as he thought: "Her tears are caused by the contrast between the icy reception we gave her, and the cordial welcome we have just given Miss Burton. Confound it all! I wish I knew the exact truth, or that she would leave for parts unknown where I could never see her again."
Miss Burton glanced wistfully after the retreating maiden, but no explanation was offered. Then, as if feeling that she had lost a day"s opportunity for diffusing sunshine, she became more genial and brilliant than Van Berg had ever known her to be. They lingered long at the table; Mr. Burleigh and others joined them. Their laughter rang out and up to the dusky room in which poor Ida was sobbing,
"I wish I were dead and out of every one"s way."
Van Berg laughed with the others, but never for a moment did he lose the uneasy consciousness that he might possibly be misjudging Ida Mayhew. Although Mr. Burleigh"s portly form occupied her chair, it did not prevent him from seeing a pale tearful face that was far too beautiful, far too free from all gross and sensual elements, to harmonize with the character he was supposing her to possess. He re-called what she had said about the "fragrance" of the rose-bud he had torn and tossed away, rising to him like "a low, timid appeal for mercy." Had she shyly and timidly appealed to him for a kinder judgement that evening, and had he been too blind and prejudiced to see anything save the stains left by Sibley"s name? If she proposed to go to Sibley, why was she not like him in manner? It was strange that one akin to such a fellow should fasten wild flowers on her bosom, and still more strange that they should be so becoming.
The cool and sagacious Van Berg, who so prided himself on his correct judgment, was decidedly perplexed and perturbed.
Chapter x.x.xV. Desperately Wounded.
Stanton basked in Miss Burton"s smiles until a significant look from Mrs. Mayhew reminded him of his disagreeable task, for the performance of which there seemed a greater urgency than ever.
Ida"s rather precipitate withdrawal from the supper-room was another proof in their eyes that some mischief was brewing.
He listened at her door for a moment, and could not fail to hear the stifled sound of her pa.s.sionate grief; then knocked, but there was no response.
"Ida," he said, in a kinder tone than usual, "I want to see you."
She tried to quiet her sobbing, and after a moment faltered: "You had better leave me to myself."
"No, I must see you," he said kindly but firmly. "I have something to say to you."
The poor girl was so lonely and heart-broken, that she was ready for the least ray of comfort. She now saw that she was ignorant and exceedingly faulty. She was ready to admit the fact that she had acted very foolishly and unwisely, and that circ.u.mstances were against her. Ill-omened circ.u.mstances have brought to condemnation and death innocent men. Ida would not now claim that she was innocent of blame, but events had seemed so unfortunate of late, that she was half ready to think that some vindictive hand was shaping them.
But she did not feel that she was now worse than she had been.
On the contrary, she had longings for a better life and a broader culture such as she had never experienced before. The artist"s eyes, in searching for her woman"s soul, revealed to her that she had been a fool; but now she would gladly become a woman if some one would only point out the way.
"Mother and Ik might learn that I am not wholly bad if they would only take the trouble to find out," she murmured. "Ik used to be kind-hearted, and I thought he cared a little for me, in spite of our sparing. Why is he so hard on me of late? Why can"t he believe that I am just as capable of detesting Sibley as he is? Perhaps he does mean to say a kind word, and give me a chance to explain."
These thoughts pa.s.sed through her mind as she lighted the gas and bathed her face, that she might, to some extent, remove the evidences of grief.
Stanton misunderstood her wholly. The new Ida, that deep feeling and recent events were developing, was unknown to him, and he had been too preoccupied to see the changes, even had they been more apparent. He did feel a sort f commiseration for her evident suffering, for he was too kind-hearted not to sympathize even when he believed pain to be well-deserved. But he thought he must still deal with her as a wayward, pa.s.sionate child, as he had in the past, when she cried till she obtained what she wished, right or wrong. He now believed that she was as fully bent on carrying out her own unreasonable will, but remembered that she was no longer a child, and might be guilty of folly that society would not forgive as childish. Therefore he wished to see her face, and was disposed to be wary and observant.
He gave her a quick, keen glance as he entered and then said:
"What"s the matter, Ida? Why do you sit here in the shadows? It"s as dark as a pocket;" and he turned the gas higher.
She did not answer, but sat down with her face averted from him and the light. "He has come here as a spy, and not as a comforter,"