a face illumined-第49部分

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

truth　a　modern　Undine。　　She　had　feminine　qualities　and　vices；　but

not　a　woman's　soul。　　She　was　not　capable　of　any　strong；　womanly

action　or　feeling。　　Her　scheme　of　life　was　simple　indeed；　although

she　was　learning　to　be　very　artful　in　carrying　it　out。　　It　was　to

have　〃a　good　time；〃　as　she　would　phrase　it；　and　at　any　and　every

cost　to　others。　　After　wearying　of　the　life　of　a　belle；　she　proposed

to　marry　the　best　establishment　that　came　her　way；　and　became　a

leader　of　fashion。



It　would　seem　that　not　a　few　fine　ladies　carry　out　this　simple　scheme

of　life；　and　never　receive　a　woman's　soul。　　There　are　Undines　at

sixty　as　well　as　at　sixteen。



The　artist　had　been　attracted　by　her　beauty；　like　so　many　others；

but　unlike　others　he　had　not　（as　was　the　case　with　not　a　few　sensible

men）　given　an　admiring　glance　at　the　face；　and　then；　recognizing　the

fact　that　there　was　not　a　woman　back　of　it；　passed　on　indifferently；

nor　had　he　bestowed　upon　her　imaginary　virtues；　and　much　less　had

he　been　satisfied　with　more　flesh　and　blood。



His　manner　had　been　exploring；　questioning。　　He　was　looking　for

her　woman's　soul；　even　though　he　might　find　it　unawakened；　like

the　fabled　beauty　in　the　mythical　castle。



His　keen　eyes　had　disturbed　her　equanimity　from　the　first。　　As　he

pursued　his　quest；　her　undefined　fears　and　misgivings　increased。

At　last　she　was　compelled　to　follow　his　questioning　glances；　and

look　past　outward　beauty　to　her　real　self　within。　　From　that　hour

the　rank　and　evil　weeds　of　pride　and　vanity　began　to　wither。　　Honest

self…scrutiny　was　like　a　knife　at　their　roots。



But　these　traits　give　a　transient　support　like　a　false　stimulant。

As　they　failed　there　was　nothing　to　take　their　placeno　faith　in

God；　no　self…respect　or　self…reliance。　　She　could　not　turn　to　her

own　family　for　sustaining　sympathy；　such　as　many　fin　din　their

homes；　and　which　is　all　the　more　grateful　because　not　inquisitive

nor　expressed　in　formal　terms。　　In　her　selfish　pleasure…seeking

life　she　found　that　she　had　made　an　endless　number　of　acquaintances；

but　no　friends。　　She　had　not　even　the　resources　of　a　cultivated

mind　that　could　exist　upon　its　own　stores　through　this　sudden　famine

which　had　impoverished　her　world；　nor　could　she　think　of　a　single

innocent；　attractive；　pursuit　by　which　she　could　fill　the　weary

days。　　She　was　like　a　child　that　had　dwelt　in　a　tropical　oasis；　the

flowers　and　fruits　of　which　had　seemed　as　limitless　as　its　extent。

She　had　supposed　that　the　whole　world　would　be　like　this　oasis；

and　the　only　necessity　ever　imposed　on　her　would　be　that　of　choice

from　its　rich　profusion。　　But　ere　she　was　aware　she　had　lost

herself　in　a　desert；　the　oasis　had　vanished　like　a　mirage；　and　she

had　no　choice　at　all。　　That　which　her　heart　craved　with　an　intensity

which　fairly　made　it　ache；　seemed　as　hopeless　as　a　sudden　bloom

and　fruitage　from　arid　sands。



Instead　of　going　down　to　supper　she　returned　to　the　solitude　of

her　own　room；　but　the　apathy　of　the　earlier　part　of　the　day　had

vanished　utterly。　　Indeed；　body　ad　soul　seemed　to　quiver　with　pain

like　a　wounded　nerve。　　Anger；　which　had　given　a　brief　support；

faded　out；　and　left　only　shame　and　despair　as　in　memory　she　saw

the　emblem；　representing　herself；　tossed　contemptuously　into　the

carriage…way　by　the　man　she　loved。



〃I　remember　reading；〃　she　groaned；　〃when　at　school；　how　conquerors

put　their　feet　on　the　necks　of　their　captives。　　He　has　put　his

spurning　foot　on　my　heart。　　Oh；　hateful　riddle！　　Why　should　I　love

the　man　that　despises　me？〃



Her　mother；　and　then　Stanton；　called　at　her　door　and　asked　her　to

come　down　to　supper。



〃No；〃　she　said；　briefly　to　each。



〃If　you　knew　what　people　were　saying　and　surmising　you　would　not

continue　to　make　a　spectacle　of　yourself；〃　said　her　cousin；　through

the　closed　door。



〃That　is　one　reason　why　I　do　not　come　down；〃　she　replied。　　〃I'm

not　in　the　mood　to　make　a　spectacle　of　myself。　　I　have　been　shown

how　one　perfect　member　of　society　regards　me；　and　I　am　not　equal

to　meeting　any　more　faultless　people　to…night。〃



〃Oh；　nonsense！〃　cried　Stanton；　irritably。　　〃You　must　come　down。〃



〃Break　in　the　door　then；　and　carry　me　down；〃　was　the　sharp　reply。



With　a　muttered　oath　he　descended　to　the　supper…room；　and　his

moody　and　absent　manner　revealed　to　Mrs。　Mayhew　and　Van　Berg　that

his　interview　with　his　cousin　had　been　anything　but　satisfactory。



For　a　time　the　artist　seemed　rather　〃distrait〃　also；　as　if　a　memory

were　troubling　him。　　He　often　looked　around　when　any　one　entered；

and　his　eyes　at　times　rested　on　Ida's　vacant　chair。　　But　he

soon　passed　under　the　spell　of　Jennie　Burton's　genial　talk；　which

seemingly　glowed　with　the　sunshine　that　had　enveloped　her　during

her　quest　of　the　roses；　and　the　poor　girl；　who　was　fairly　quivering

with　pain　because　of　his　significant　act　and　words　on　the　piazza；

was　forgotten。



She　knew　she　was　forgotten。　　The　hum　of　voices；　the　cheerful　clatter

from　the　lighted　supper…room；　came　up　to　her　darkening　apartment；

and　only　increased　her　sense　of　loneliness　and　isolation。　　Her　quick

ear　caught　Van　Berg's　mellow　laugh；　evoked　by　one　of　Miss　Burton's

sallies。



It　is　a　dreary　sensation　to　find　one's　self　wholly　forgotten　by　mere

acquaintances；　but　to　find　that　we　have　no　place　in　the　thoughts

of　those　we　love；　seems　in　a　certain　sense　like　being　annihilated。

But　for　poor　Ida　was　reserved　a　deeper　suffering　still；　since　she

believed　that　the　man　she　loved　did　not　dismiss　her　from　his　mind

indifferently；　but　rather　with　aversion　and　disgust。



She　felt　her　isolation　terribly。　　To　whom　could　she　turn　in

her　trouble？　　The　thought　of　her　father　was　both　a　reproach　and　a

humiliation。　　He　was　drifting　hopelessly；　and　almost　unresistingly；

towards　final　wreck；　and；　so　far　from　seeking　to　restrain；　she

had　added　to　the　evil　impetus。　　She　shrank　from　the　very　idea　of

confiding　in　her　garrulous；　superficial　mother。　　She　felt　that　her

cousin　detested　as　well　as　despised　her。　　The　flattered　girl；　who

a　little　before　thought　the　world　was　at　her　feet；　now　felt　friendless

and　alone；　scarcely　tolerated　by　her　own　family；　and　scorned　by

others。



Of　course　she　exaggerated　the　evil　of　her　lot。　　The　young　an

inexperienced　are　ever　prone　to　look；　for　the　time；　on　the　earlier

misfortunes　of　their　lives　as　irretrievable。　　In　after　years　they

may　smile　at　their　causeless　despair；　but　the　world　is　full　of

tragedies　that　to　the　wise　and　sober　minded　had　slight　cause。



Ida's　troubles；　however；　were　scarcely　slight；　and　she；　above　all

others；　was　the　least　fitted　to　bear　trouble　and　thwarting。　　To　be

refused　anything　would　be　a　new　and　disagreeable　experience；　but

to　be　denied　that　which　her　heart　craved　supremely；　tended　to　call

out　all　the　passionate　recklessness　of　her　ungoverned；　undisciplined

nature。　　The　child　from　whom　something　is　taken；　will　often　cast

away　in　anger　all　that　is　offered　in　its　place；　and　in　like　hasty

folly　many　a　man　and　woman；　to　their　eternal　regret；　have　thrown

away　life　itself。　　Suicide　is　often　the　product　of　passion　as　well

as　of　despair；　the　irritable；　headlong　protest　against　evils　that

might　have　been　and　should　have　been　remedied。



As　Ida　sat　alone　in　her　desolation　and　shame；　the　thought

of　self…destruction　had　surged　up　in　the　lava　of　other　tumultuous

thoughts　occasioned　by　the　artist's　scorn；　and　at　first　she　had

shrunk　from　it　with　natural　and　instinctive　dread。　　But　the　awful

thought　began　to　fascinate　her　like　a　dizzy　height　from　which　it

seems　so　easy　to　fall　and　end　everything。



In　her　morbid　condition　and　to　her　poisoned　imagination　the　act

did　not　appear　so　revolting　after　all。　　She　had　been　made　familiar

with　it　in　her　favorite　novels。　　She　had　often　seen　it　simulated

with　applause　on　the　stage；　with　all　the　melodramatic　accessories

with　which　it　is　produce　mere　effect。　　Indeed；　from　her　education；

she　might　also　think　self…destruction　was　the　only　dignified　and

high…spirited　thing　to　do。



For　a　time　her　thoughts　took　the　coloring　of　high　tragedy。　　She

would　teach　this　proud　artist　a　lessen；　even　though　at　supreme　cost

to　herself。　　If　he　would　never　love　her；　she　would　make　it　certain

that　he　could　not　longer　despise　her。　　She　would　write　him　a　letter

that　would　harrow　his　very　soul；　informing　him　that　she　had　taken

his　hint　and　followed　his　suggestion。　　Since　he　had　thrown　away

the　emblem　of　herself　as　a　worthless　and　unsightly　thing；　she　had

thrown　herself　away；　so　that　faultless　taste　and　faultless　people

might　be　no　more　offended　by　the　presence　of　so　much　imperfection。



For　a　moment　her　eyes　glowed　with　exultation　over　his　imagined

dismay　as　he　read　this　message　from　one　to　whom　no　reparation　could

be　made；　and　then　better　and　more　wholesome　feelings　resumed　their

sway。　　Perverted；　misguided；　and　uncoun