a face illumined-第87节
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I'm fairly enraged with myself at times。〃
〃They say blushes are love's trail;〃 said Mr。 Mayhew with a laugh;
〃and since he is around I suppose he must leave his tracks。 If
you wish for a more scientific reason let me add that physiology
teaches us that the blood comes from the heart。 I can assure you;
however; that there are but few gentlemen who admire ladies that
cannot blush; and Mr。 Van Berg is not one of them。〃
Ida spent the evening at her piano instead of over the encyclopaedia;
but she sighed again and again。
〃Simple and true! I fear Jennie Burton and Mr。 Eltinge would say
I was neither if they knew what was in my heart。 But I can't help
itI can't give him up after what has happened since I came to
the city; unless I must。〃
But the music she selected was simple and true。 Tossing her brilliant
and florid pieces impatiently aside; she played or sang only that
which was plaintive; low; and in harmony with her thoughts。 It
also seemed to have a peculiar attractiveness to a tall gentleman
who lingered some moments beneath the windows; and even took one
or two steps up towards the door; and then turned and strode away
as if conscious that he must either enter or depart at once。
Chapter XLIX。 The Blind God。
The Miss Mayhew that crossed the artist's threshold the following
morning might have been taken as a model of graceful self…possession;
but she disguised a maiden with as fluttering a heart and trembling
a soul as ever faced one of the supreme moments of destiny。 Her
father; however; proved a faithful and intelligent ally; and his
manner towards Van Berg was a fine blending of courtesy and dignity;
suggesting a man as capable of conferring as of receiving favors。
His host would indeed have been blind and stupid if he had tried
to patronize Mr。 Mayhew that morning。
Although unconscious of the fact; Van Berg was for a time subjected
to the closest scrutiny。 Love had deep if not dark designs against
him; and the glances he bent on Ida might suggest that he was only
too ready to become a victim。 He had welcomed to his study two
conspirators who were committed to their plot by the strongest of
motives; and yet they were such novel conspirators that a word; a
glance; an expression even of 〃ennui〃 or indifference would have
so touched their pride that they would have abandoned their wiles
at every cost to themselves。 Were they trying to ensnare him?
Never were such films and gossamer threads used in like entanglement
before。 He could have brushed them all away by one cold sweep
of his eyes; and the maiden who had not scrupled at death to gain
merely his respect; would have left the studio with a colder glance
than his; nor would her womanly strength have failed her until she
reached a refuge which his eye could not penetrate; but thenGod
pity her。 The tragedies over which the angels weep are the bloodless
wounds of the spirit。
But it would seem that the atmosphere of Van Berg's studio that
summer morning was not at all conducive to tragedy of any kind; nor
were there in his face or manner any indications of comedy; which
to poor Ida would have been far worse; for an air of careless
〃bonhomie〃 on his part when she was so desperately in earnest would
have made his smiles and jests like heartless mockery。
And yet; in spite of his manner the previous day; the poor girl had
come to the studio fearing far more than she hoped; and burdened
also with a troubled conscience。 She was almost sure she was not
doing right; and yet the temptation was too strong to be resisted。
But when he took her hand in greeting that morning; and said with
a smile that seemed to flash out from the depths of his soul;
〃I won't hurt you any more if I can help it;〃 all scruples; all
hesitancy vanished for a time; like frostwork in the sun。 His
magnetism was irresistible; and she felt that it would require
all her tact and resolution to keep him by some careless; random
word or act; from brushing aside the veil behind which shrank her
trembling; and as yet; unsought love。
But Van Berg was even a rarer study than the maiden; and his manner
towards both Ida and her father might well lead one to think that
he was inclined to become the chief conspirator in the design
against himself。 He had scarcely been conscious of time or place
since parting the previous day with the friend he was so bent
on securing; and when at last he slept in the small hours of the
morning he dreamt that he had been caught by a mighty tidal wave
that was bearing him swiftly towards heaven on its silver crest。
When he awoke; the wave; so far from being a bubble; seemed a
grand spiritual reality; and he felt as if he had already reached
a seventh heaven of vague; undefined exhilaration。 Never before
had life appeared so rich a possession and so full of glorious
possibilities。 Never in the past had he felt his profession to
be so noble and worthy of his devotion; and never had the fame he
hoped to grasp by means of it seemed so near。 Beauty became to him
so infinitely beautiful and divine that he felt he could worship
it were it only embodied; and then with a strange and exquisite
thrill of exultation he exclaimed: 〃Right or wrong; to my eye it
is embodied in Ida Mayhew; and she will fill my studio with light
again to…day and many days to come。 If ever an artist was fortunate
in securing as a friend; as an inspiration; a perfect and budding
flower of personal and spiritual loveliness; I am that happy man。〃
The Van Berg of other days would have called the Van Berg that
waited impatiently for his guests that morning a rhapsodical fool;
and the greater part of the world would offer no dissent。 The
world is very prone to call every man who is possessed by a little
earnestness or enthusiasm a fool; but it is usually an open question
which is the more foolishthe world or the man; and perhaps we shall
all learn some day that there was more of sanity in our rhapsodies
than in the shrewd calculations that verged towards meanness。 Be
this as it may in the abstract; Van Berg regarded himself as the most
rational man in the city that morning。 He did not try to account
for his mental state by musty and proverbial wisdom or long…established
principles of psychology。 The glad; strong consciousness of his
own soul satisfied him and made everything appear natural。 Since
he HAD this strong and growing friendship for this maiden; who was
evidently pleased to come again to his studio; though so coy and
shy in admitting it; why should he not have it? There was nothing
in his creed against such a friendship; and everything for it。
Men of talent; not to mention genius; had ever sought inspiration
from those most capable of imparting it; and this girl's beauty
and character were kindling his mind to that extent that he began
to hope he could now do some of the finest work of his life。 The
fact that he felt towards her the strongest friendly regard was
in itself enough; and Van Berg was too good a modern thinker to
dispute with facts; especially agreeable ones。
The practical outcome of the friendship which he lost no chance of
manifesting that morning; was that Mr。 Mayhew; in an easy; informal
manner; extended his invitation; and the artist accepted in a way
that proved he was constrained by something more than courtesy or
a sense of duty; and Conspirator Number Two walked down Broadway
muttering (as do all conspirators): 〃Those young people are liable
to stumble into paradise at any moment。〃
〃How did you manage to get through a hot August day in town after
you were released from durance here?〃 asked Van Berg。
〃I do not know that it required any special management;〃 replied
Ida demurely。 〃I suppose YOU took a nap after your severe labors
of the morning。〃
〃Now you are satirical。 My labor was all in the afternoon; for I
worked from the time you left me till dusk。〃
〃Didn't you stop for lunch or dinner?〃 exclaimed Ida; with surprise。
〃Not a moment。〃
〃Why; Mr。 Van Berg; what was the matter with you? It will never
do for me to come here and waste your forenoons if you try to make
up so unmercifully after I'm gone。〃
〃You were indeed altogether to blame。 Some things; like fine music
or a great painting orit happened to be yourself yesterdayoften
cause what I call my working moods; when I feel able to do the best
things of which I'm capable。 Not that they are wonderful or ever
will bethey are simply my best effortsand I assure you I'm not
foolish enough to waste such moments in the prosaic task of eating。〃
〃I'm only a matter…of…fact person。 Plain food at regular intervals
is very essential to me。〃
He looked up at her quickly and said: 〃Now you are mentally laughing
at me again。 I assure you I ate like an ostrich after my work was
over。 I even upset the dignity of an urbane Delmoni