Ida's expression and manner when she came down to breakfast on Sabbath morning,reminded Miss Burton of the time when the poor girl believed that the man she loved,both despised and misjudged her.And yet there was a vital difference.Then she was icy and defiant;now,with all and more than the old sadness,there was an aspect of humility and gentleness which had never been seen in former times,but the woman who should have been so glad to cheer her and remove all misunderstandings found that she was absolutely unapproachable except by a sort of social violence of which Jennie Burton was not capable.Ida's effort--which was but partially successful--to be brave and even cheerful for her father's sake,caused Mr.Mayhew more than once to go away by himself in order to hide his feelings.Mrs.Mayhew became more and more mystified and uncomfortable.She had enjoyed,in her cold-blooded way,a tranquil,gossipy week during her daughter's and husband's absence,but now she felt as if some kind of a domestic convulsion might occur any moment.
"I don't see why people have to make such a fuss over life,"she complained."If they would only do what was stylish,proper and religious they wouldn't have any trouble,"and the strong and not wholly repressed feeling of Ida and her father,of which she was uncomfortably conscious,seemed to her absurd and uncalled for.
Like the majority of matter-of-fact people,she had no patience or charity for emotion or deep regret."Do the proper thing under the circumstances and let that end the matter,"was one of her favorite sayings.
Stanton learned from Mr.Burleigh that Van Berg had gone on a mountain tramp,and,when he told Ida,hope whispered to her,"If he loved Jennie Burton or felt that he could return to her side,he would not do that after his long absence."But when he did not return to supper she began to droop and become pale like a flower growing in too dense a shade.She was glad when the interminable day came to an end and she could shut herself away from every one,for there are wounds which the heart would hide even from the eyes of love and sympathy.It had been arranged during the day that Mr.Mayhew should find another place at which to spend his vacation,and that as early in the week as possible Stanton should take his wife and daughter thither.
When at last poor Ida slept she dreamt that she was sailing on a beautiful yacht with silver canvas and crimson flags--that Van Berg stood at her side pointing to a lovely island which they were rapidly approaching.Then a sudden gust of wind swept her overboard and she was sinking,sinking till the waters became so cold and dark that she awoke with a cry of terror."Oh,"she sobbed,"my dream is true!my dream is true!"Mr.Mayhew returned to the city in the morning,leaving his daughter very reluctantly,and Ida,as early as possible,set out again in the low phaeton to visit Mr.Eltinge,for never before had she felt a greater need of his counsel and help.Tears came into her eyes when informed of his absence."Everything is against me,"she murmured;but she decided to spend some time in the garden before she returned.She had almost reached the rustic seat when a turn in the walk revealed that it was occupied.Her first impulse was to retreat hastily,but observing that Van Berg had not heard her light step,she hesitated.Then,his attitude of utter dejection so won her sympathy that she could not leave him without speaking,for she remembered how sorely in need she once had been of a reassuring word.Moreover,her heart said,"Speak to him;"hope cried,"Stay;"and her temptation to win him if possible,right or wrong,sprang up with tenfold power and whispered:"The man whom Jennie Burton welcomed so cordially Saturday evening would not wear this aspect if he had the power to return readily to her side again."Still she hesitated and found it almost as hard to obtain words or courage now as when she saw him pulling apart the worm-eaten rosebud.At last she faltered:
"Mr.Van Berg,are you ill?"
He started to his feet with a dazed look and passed his hand across his brow--the same gesture she so well remembered seeing him make at the close of the happy evening he had spent at her home.As he realized that the maiden before him was flesh and blood,and not a creation of his morbid fancy,the hot blood rushed swiftly into his face,and his eyes fell before her.
"Yes,Miss Mayhew,I am,"he said,briefly.
"I am very sorry.Can I not do anything for you?"she asked,kindly.
He looked up at her in strong surprise,and was still more perplexed by the sympathetic expression of her face,but he only said,"Iregret to say you cannot."
"Mr.Van Berg,"said Ida,in tones full of distress,"your words and appearance pain me exceedingly.You look as if you had been ill a month.What has happened?"His aspect might trouble one less interested in him than herself,for his eyes were blood-shot,and he had become so haggard that she could scarcely realize that he was the man who but four days previous had compared his hearty merriment with the "laughter of the gods.""Miss Mayhew,"he said,bitterly and slowly,too,as if he were carefully choosing his words,"you had a presentiment last Saturday that some evil was about to happen.As far as I am concerned the worst has happened.I have lost my self-respect.I have no right to stand here in your presence.I have no right to be in this place even.I once tossed away a little flower that had been sadly marred,through no fault of its own,and as I did so I said in my pride and self-complacency that its imperfection justified my act.
