"Confound you,Van,"said Stanton,as the artist escaped from the thanks of the audience into the hall,"What did you put in that last verse for?You made her think of seeing her dead friends again,and so she was in no mood to speak to us poor mortals who are still plodding on in this 'vale of tears.'I'd give my ears for a quiet chat with her to-night.By Jove,I never was so stirred up before,and could turn Christian,Mohammedan,Buddhist,or anything else,if she asked me to.""In either case,Ik,"said Van Berg,"your worship would be the same,I imagine,and would never rise higher than the priestess.""Curse it all,"exclaimed Stanton impetuously,"I feel to-night as if that were higher than I can ever rise.I never was afraid of a woman before;but no 'divinity'ever 'hedged a king'like that which fills me with an indescribable awe when I approach this unassuming little woman who usually seems no more formidable than a flickering sunbeam.I agree with you now.She has evidently had some deep experience in the past that gives to her character a power and depth that we only half understand.I wish I knew her better.""Good-night,"said Van Berg,a little abruptly;"I think that after this evening's experience,neither of us is in the mood for further talk."Stanton looked after him with a lowering brow and muttered:"Is he so sensitive on this subject?By Jove.I'm sorry!I fear we must become rivals,Van.And yet,"he added with a despairing gesture,"what chance would I have with him against me?""I could not hear distinctly,"Sibley had remarked as Ida took his arm and walked away from her post of observation."Were you disgusted with his pious wail on general principles,or did something in his theology offend you?""It's enough that I was not pleased,"she replied briefly.
"Little wonder.I'm surprised you stood it so long.Van Berg and Stanton are nice fellows to lead a conventicle.I think I'll take a hand at it myself next Sunday evening,and certainly would with your support.I'll say nothing of the singer,but if you will go with me to the rustic seat in yonder shady walk,I'll sing you a song that I know will be more to your taste than any you have heard this evening.""Please excuse me,Mr.Sibley;I'm afraid of the night air.""You are unusually prudent,"he said,a little tauntingly.
"Which proves that I possess at least one good quality,"she replied.
"Perhaps if Mr.Van Berg asked you to go you would take the risk.""Perhaps I might,"she admitted,half unconsciously and from the mere force of habit,giving the natural answer of a coquette.
"He had better not cross my path,"said Sibley,with sudden vindictiveness.
"Come,come!"replied Miss Mayhew,with a careless laugh,"let's have no high tragedy.I'm in no mood for it to-night,and you have no occasion for alarm.If he crosses your path he will step daintily over it at right angles."At that moment Van Berg came out on the piazza.Although he could not hear her words,her laugh and tones jarred unpleasantly on his ear.
"Yonder is a genuine affinity,"he muttered,"which I was a fool to think I could break up;"and with a slight contemptuous gesture he turned on his heel and went to his room.
"I cannot altogether understand you this evening,Miss Mayhew,"said Sibley,with some resentment in his tone.
"You are not to blame for that,Mr.Sibley,for I do not understand myself.I have not felt well to-day,and so had better say good-night."But before she could leave him he seized her hand and exclaimed,in his soft,insinuating tones:
"That then is the only trouble between us.Next Saturday evening I shall find you your old charming self?""Perhaps,"was her unsatisfactory answer.
With a step that grew slower and heavier every moment,she went to her room,turned up the light,and looked fixedly at herself in the glass,"I wish that outward beauty Were the mirror of the heart,"she repeated inaudibly,and the her exquisite lip curled in self-contempt.
"Ida,what IS the matter with you?"drawled her mother,looking through the open door-way of her adjacent room."You act as if you were demented.""Why did you make me what I am?"she exclaimed,turning upon her mother in a sudden passion.
"Good gracious!what are you?"ejaculated that matter-of-fact lady.
"I'm as good as you are--as good as our set averages,I suppose,"she answered in a weary,careless tone."Good night;"and she closed and locked her door.
"Oh,pshaw!"said Mrs.Mayhew,petulantly;"those hymns have made her out of sorts with herself and everything.They used to stir me up in the same way.Why can't people learn to perform their religious duties properly and then let the matter rest;"and with a yawn she retired at peace with herself and all the world.
Ida threw herself on a lounge and looked straight before her with that fixed,vacant stare which indicates that nothing is seen save by the eye of the mind.
"Father's drunk to-night,"she moaned;"I know it as surely as if I saw him.I also know that I'm in part to blame for it.Could outward beauty mask a blacker heart than mine?It does not mask it from him who sang those words,"and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed,until,exhausted and disheartened,she sough such poor rest and respite as a few hours of troubled sleep could bring.
