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killed it; and was in hopes that if I placed the injured flower in

water with the others it might still make a partial bloom。  You will

think me absurd when I tell you I felt sorry for it; and thought

how many roses and lives would be more perfect were it not for some

gnawing 'worm i' the bud。'〃



〃The 'worm' in Shakespeare's allusion;〃 said the artist; lightly;

〃is redeemed by its association and symbolism; but the one that

has been at work here was a disagreeably prosaic thing that you

rightly put your foot upon。  The bud; as it now appears; suggest

the worm more than anything else。  So; please; let me cut it out;

for art cannot tolerate anything so radically marred and defective。

Its worm…eaten heart spoils the beauty of the entire cluster。〃



〃I fear you artists become too critical and exacting。  Well; cut

it out。  I will submit to art in roses; but feel that marred and

defective lives should have very different treatment。〃



〃That depends。  If people persist in cherishing some worm of evil;

they cannot expect to be held in the same esteem as those who are

aiming at a more perfect development。  There; now! does not our

cluster appear much better?〃



〃Yes; and yet I cannot help feeling sorry for the poor little bud

that has missed its one chance to bloom; and all will wither unless

I hasten to my room and put them in water。〃



In her prejudice against Ida she had not looked towards her while

talking with Van Berg; but in passing; a hasty glance almost caused

her to stay and speak to her; for she thought she saw her eyes

full of unshed tears。  But her glance was brief and her prejudice

strong。  Miss Burton had not a little of the wholesome feminine

intolerance for certain weaknesses in her sex。  She would counsel

a wife to endure a bad husband with a meek and patient spirit。  But

gentle as she was; she would scorn the maiden who could be attracted

by a corrupt man; and almost loathe her for indulging in such

an affinity。  She could pity Idashe could pity any one; but the

poor girl's unfortunate association with Sibley; and her seeming

interest in him; would subordinate pity to indignation and contempt。

Her thought was this:



〃Miss Mayhew is still a maiden free to choose。  Shame on her that

she chooses so ignobly!  Shame on her that she turns her eyes

longingly to fetid pools; instead of upward to the breezy hills。

What kind of nature is that which prompts such a choice?〃



The artist was more capable of Jennie Burton's indignation and

contempt than of her pity; and although he knew Ida still stood

in the doorway he did not turn to speak to her。  His very attitude

seemed to indicate to the unhappy girl a haughty indifference; and

yet she was so unhappy; so in need of a kind word or reassuring

glance that she could not turn away。



〃What a wretched mystery it all is;〃 she thought。  〃I ought to hate;

yet I love him。  Proud as I have thought myself; I could kneel at

his feet for one such word and glance as he just gave Miss Burton。

For contempt I return him honor and admiration。  I cannot help

myself。  By some strange perversity of my heart; I have become

his very slave。  How can he be so blind!  He thinks me pining for

a man that I despise and hate more than he ever can; though the

fellow attempted his life。  Sibley has come between me and that

which is more than lifemy chance for happiness and right living。

I shall become desperate and bad; like him; if this continues。

How strange it is that some sense; some instinct does not tell him

there that the girl who stands so near is lavishing every treasure

of her soul upon him!



〃That poor little rose…bud represents me to his mind。  How ruthlessly

he is pulling open its heart!  Will he see anything else there save

the work of the destroyer?  Can it not awaken a thought of pity?

I willI must speak to him。〃



She took a hesitating step or two towards him。  She could almost

hear her heart beat。  Twice; thrice; words died upon her lips。

When was she ever so timid before!  If he would only give her an

encouraging glance!  If he would only turn a little towards her

and relax that haughty; unbending attitude…



〃Mr。 Van Berg;〃 she said at last; in a voice that was constrained

and hard from her effort to be calm; 〃you seem very vindictive

towards that poor little flower。〃



He turned partially towards her and coldly said; 〃Good evening Miss

Mayhew;〃 then; after a second; added carelessly:  〃I admit that

this worm…eaten bud is rather vexatious。  It haswhat is left

of itexquisite color; and in form nature had designed it to be

perfect; but〃 (with a slight contemptuous shrug) 〃you see what it

is;〃 and he tossed it down into the roadway。



Her face was very pale and her voice low; as she answered:  〃And

so you condemn it to be trampled under foot。〃



〃I condemn it!  Not at all。  Its own imperfection condemns it。〃



〃The result is all the same;〃 she replied; with sudden change

of manner。  〃It is tossed contemptuously away to be trodden under

foot。  Dull and ignorant as you discovered me to be; Mr。 Van Berg;

I am not so stupid but that I can understand you this evening。

Imperfect as I am I could pity that unfortunate flower whose

fragrance rose to you like a low appeal for a little consideration;

at least。  Would it not have bloomed as perfectly as the others if

the worm had let it alone?  But; I suppose; with artist; if roses

or human lives are imperfect; that is the end of them。  Misfortune

counts for nothing。〃



Van Berg listened in surprise to these words; and his haughty

complacency was decidedly disturbed。  He was about to reply that

〃Evil chosen and cherished was not a misfortune but a fault;〃 when

she turned from him with more than her former coldness and entered

the house。



An impulse that he would have found difficult to analyze led him

to descend the steps and pick up the symbolic bud; now torn and

withering fast; and to place it between the leaves of his note…book。



If she had only seen this act it would have made a great difference;

but; ever present to her thought; it lay where he had tossed it;

the emblem of herself。











Chapter XXXII。  The Dangers of Despair。









Discouragement and despair are dangerous and often destructive to

character。  This would be especially true of one like Ida Mayhew;

for even in her imperfection she possessed a simplicity and unity

which made it impossible for a part of such moral nature as she

possessed to stand; if another part were undermined or broken down。

The whole fabric would stand or fall together。



She had been a wayward child; more neglected than petted; and

had naturally developed a passion for having her own will; right

or wrong。  As she grew older; her extraordinary dower of beauty

threatened to be a fatal one。  It brought her attention continuous

admiration and flattery from those who cared nothing for her

personally。  She had received in childhood but little of the praise

which love prompts; the tender; indulgent idolatry which; although

dangerous indeed to one's best development; sometimes softens and

humanizes; instead of rendering selfish and arrogant。



Mrs。 Mayhew petted and scolded her child according to her mood;

but was quite consistent in her general neglect。  Mr。 Mayhew was

a tired; busy man; who visited at his own home rather than lived

there。  Thus the growing girl was left chiefly to her own impulses;

and average human nature ensured that the habit of thinking of

herself first and of pleasing herself at all times should be early

formed。  Then; as she saw and became capable of understanding the

homage that waits on mere beauty; the world over; pride and vanity

grew in overshadowing rankness。  The attention she received; however;

was chiefly made up of the bold stare of strangers; and the open

flattery of those who admired her beauty as they would that of a

picture; unconsciously but correctly leaving the impression that

they cared for her only because of her beauty。  That the girl's

nature should grow hard and callous under such influences was what

might have been expected。



Neglect and a miserable sham of an education had dwarfed her mind。

She had been 〃finished〃 by an ultra fashionable school before she

understood the meaning of the studies which she passed over in a

dainty quickstep; scarcely touching the surface。



Her heart and moral nature were almost equally undeveloped。  Hitherto

she had known but little experience tending to evoke gentle feeling

or generous action。  She had confounded the few genuine admirers;

who; infatuated with her beauty; endowed her with all heavenly

graces; awaiting only the awakening hand of their love; with the

heartless or brainless fellows who were not particular about heavenly

graces; provided a girl had a fine figure and a fair face。



When the artist first met her at the concert garden; she was in

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