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 butterfly 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 associate 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 gods 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.