I played the agreeable to nearly every lady in the hotel,and perspired on picnics and boating parties that I did not enjoy.Iplayed croquet and other games till I was half bored to death,and all in the effort to produce such a genial atmosphere of enjoyment and good-feeling that you would thaw a little towards me;but you wouldn't speak to me,nor even look at me.At last I gave up in despair and went off among the hills with my sketch-book,and when returning that blessed old stage overtook me.Wasn't I pleased when I found you were a fellow-passenger!and let me now express my thanks that you looked so resolutely away from me,for it gave me a chance to contrast a profile in which I could detect no fault with the broad,sultry visage of the stout woman opposite me.And then,thank heaven,the horses ran away.Whoever heard of stage horses running away before?It was a smile of fortune--a miracle.
Submit to destiny,Miss Mayhew,for it's decreed that we should be good friends,"and he laughed again in huge enjoyment of the whole scene.
In spite of herself Ida found his humor contagious and irresistible,and she laughed also till the tears came into her eyes.
"Mr.Van Berg,"she exclaimed,"I ought to be indignant,or I ought to be ashamed to look you in the face.I don't know what I ought to do,only I'm sure it isn't the proper thing at all for me to be laughing in this way.I think I'll go home at once,for I'm only wasting your time.
His answer was not very relevant,for he said impetuously,"Oh,Miss Ida,I would give five years of my life to be able to paint your portrait as you now appear,for the picture would cure old melancholy himself and fill a prison-cell with light.""I won't come here any more if you laugh at me so,"she said,putting on her hat.
"See,"he said,"I'm as grave as a judge.I will never laugh AT you,but I hope to laugh WITH you many a time,for to tell you the truth the experience has reminded me of the 'inextinguishable laughter of the Gods.'Please don't go yet.""If I must come so often my visits must be brief.""Then you will come?"
"I haven't promised anything except for to-morrow.Good-morning.""Let me walk home with you."
"No,positively.You have wasted too much time already.""You will at least shake hands in token of peace and amity before we part?""Oh,certainly,if you think it worth the while when we are to meet so soon again.Oh!you hurt me.You did that once before."His face suddenly became grave and even tender in its expression,as he said,in a low,deep voice,"More than once,Miss Ida.Don't think I forget or forgive myself because you treat me so generously."She would not look up and meet his eyes,but replied,in tones that trembled with repressed feeling,"I could forgive anything after your manner towards father this morning.Never think I can forget such favors,"and then she snatched away her hand and went swiftly out.Her tears fell fast as she sought her home by quiet streets with bowed head and vail drawn tightly down,and she murmured:
"I cannot give him up--I cannot,indeed,I cannot.If I lose him it must be because there is no help for it."Then conscience uttered its low,faint protest and her tears fell faster still.
When reaching her room she threw herself on the sofa and sobbed,"Would it be so very,very wrong to win him if I could?she can't love him as much as I do.Why,I was ready to die even to win his respect,and now in these visits he gives me a chance to win his love.Is he pledged to Miss Burton yet?If he is,I do not know it.He does seem to care for me--there is often something in his face and tone that whispers hope.If he loves her as I love him he could not be here in New York all this week.But it's her love that troubles me--I've seen it in her eyes when he was not observing,and I fear she just worships him.Alas,he gave her reason.His manner has been that of a lover,and no one--he least of all--would think of flirting with Jennie Burton.But does he lover her so deeply that I could not win him if I had a chance?Would it be very wicked if I did?Must I give up my happiness for her happiness?
I came to New York to get away from danger and temptation and here I am right in the midst of it.What shall I do!Oh,my Saviour,I'm half afraid to speak to thee about this.""If I could only see Mr.Eltinge,"she murmured,after an hour of distracted thought and indecision."There is no time to write--indeed,I could not write on such a subject,and--and--I'm afraid he'd advise me against it.He can't understand a woman's feelings in a case like this,at least he could not understand a passionate,faulty girl like me.I've no patience--no fortitude.
I could die for my love--I think,I hope,I could for my faith,--but I feel no power within me to endure patiently year after year.Iwould be like the poor,weak women they shut up in the Inquisition and who suffered on to the end only through remorseless compulsion,because the walls were too thick for escape,and the tormentor's hands and the rack were irresistible.My soul would succumb as well as my body.This would seem wild,wicked talk to Mr.Eltinge;it would seem weak and irrational to any man.But I'm only Ida Mayhew,and such is my nature.I've been made all the more incapable of patient self-sacrifice by self-indulgence from my childhood up.
Oh,will it be very,very wrong to win him if I can?"and the passionate tears and sobs that followed these words would seem to indicate that she understood her nature only too well.
At last she concluded,in weariness and exhaustion,"I'm too weak and distracted to think any more.I hardly know whether it's right or wrong.I hope it isn't very wrong.I won't decide now.Let matters take their own course as they have done and I may see clearer by and by."But deep in her heart she felt that this was about the same as yielding to the temptation.