a face illumined-第6部分

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nature。



He　asked　himself；　〃Can　it　be　that　here　is　a　character　in　which　the

elements　of　a　true　and　good　woman　do　not　exist？　　Has　she　no　heart；

no　mind；　no　conscience　worthy　of　the　name？　　At　her　age　she　cannot

have　lost　these　qualities。　　Have　they　never　been　awakened？　　Do

they　exist　to　that　degree　that　they　can　be　aroused　into　controlling

activity？　　I　suppose　there　can　be　pretty　idiots。　　As　people　are

born　blind　or　scrofulous；　so　I　suppose　others　can　be　born　devoid　of

heart　or　conscience；　inheriting　from　a　degenerate　ancestry　sundry

mean　and　vile　propensities　in　their　places。　　Human　nature　is

a　scale　that　runs　both　up　and　down；　and　it　is　astonishing　how　far

the　extremes　can　be　apart。〃



〃How　high　is　it　possible　for　the　same　individual　to　rise　in　this

scale？　　I　imagine　we　are　all　prone　to　judge　of　people　as　if　they

were　finished　pictures；　and　to　think　that　the　defects　our　first

scrutiny　discovers　will　remain　for　all　time。　　It　is　in　real　life

much　as　in　fiction。　　From　first　to　last　a　villain　is　a　villain；

as　if　he　had　been　created　one。　　The　heroine　is　a　moss　rose…bud　by

equal　and　unchanging　necessity。　　Is　this　girl　a　fool；　and　will　she

remain　one　by　any　innate　compulsion？　　By　Jove！　　I　would　like　to　see

her　again　in　the　searching　light　of　day。　　I　would　like　to　follow

her　career　sufficiently　long；　to　discover　whether　nature　has　been

guilty　of　the　grotesque　crime　of　associating　inseparably　with　that

fine　form　and　those　exquisite　features；　a　hideous　little　mind　that

must　go　on　intensifying　its　dwarfed　deformity；　until　death　snuffs

it　out。　　If　this　be　true；　the　beautiful　little　monster　that　is

bothering　me　so　suggests　a　knotty　problem　to　wiser　heads　than　mine。〃



Somewhat　later　his　musings　led　him　to　indulge　in　a　broad　laugh。



〃Possibly；〃　he　said　aloud；　〃she　is　a　modern　and　fashionable　Undine；

and　has　never　yet　received　a　woman's　soul。　　The　good　Lord　deliver

me　from　trying　to　awaken　it；　as　did　the　knight　of　old　in　the　story；

by　swelling　the　long　list　of　her　victims。　　I　can　scarcely　imagine

a　more　pitiable　and　abject　creature　than　a　man　（once　sane　and

sensible）　in　thraldom　to　such　a　tantalizing　semblance　of　a　woman。

She　would　no　more　appreciate　his　devotion　than　the　jackdaw　the

pearl　necklace　it　pecked　at。



〃I　fear　my　Undine　theory　won't　answer。　　Stanton　says　she　has　no　heart；

and　her　face　and　manner　confirm　his　words。　　But　now　I　think　of　it；

the　original　Undine　lived　a　long　time　agoin　the　age　of　primeval

simplicity；　when　even　cool…blooded　water　nymphs　had　hearts。　　One

is　induced　to　think；　in　our　age；　that　this　organ　will　eventually

disappear　with　the　other　characteristics　of　ancient　and　undeveloped

man；　and　that　the　brain；　or　what　stands　for　it；　will　become　all　in

all。　　In　the　first　instance　the　woman's　soul　came　in　through　the

heart；　but　I　suppose　that　in　the　case　of　a　modern　Undine　it　could

enter　most　readily　through　the　head。　　I　wonder　if　there　is　something

like　an　unawakened　mind；　sleeping　under　that　broad　low　brow　that

mocks　one　with　its　fair　intellectual　outline。　　I　wonder　if　it

would　be　possible　to　set　her　thinking；　and　so　eventually　render

her　capable　of　receiving　a　woman's　soul。　　As　it　is　now　she　seems

to　possess　only　certain　disagreeable　feminine　propensities。　　One

might　engage　in　such　an　experiment　as　a　philosopher　rather　than　a

lover；　or；　what　is　more　to　my　purpose；　as　an　artist。



〃By　Jove！　I　would　half　like　to　make　the　attempt；　it　would　give　zest

to　one's　summer　vacation。　　Well；　what　is　to　hinder？　　Now　I　think

of　it　she　remarked　that　she　was　to　spend　the　season　at　the　Lake

House；　not　far　from　the　Hudson；　a　place　well　suited　to　my　purposes。

There　are　the　wild　highlands　on　one　side；　and　a　soft　pastoral　country

on　the　other。　　I　could　there　find　abundant　opportunity　for　varied

studies　in　scenery；　and　at　the　same　time　beguile　my　idle　hours　at

the　hotel　with　this　face　of　marvellous　capabilities　and　possibilities。

The　features　already　exist；　and　would　be　beautiful　if　the　girl　were

dead；　and　they　could　be　no　longer　distorted　by　the　small　vices　of

the　spirit　back　of　them。　　They　might　become　transcendently　beautiful；

could　she　in　very　truth　receive　the　soul　of　a　true　and　thoughtful

womana　soul　such　as　makes　my　mother　beautiful　in　her　plain　old

age。



〃I'm　inclined　to　follow　this　odd　fancy。　　That　girl　is　a　'rara

avis'　such　as　has　never　flown　across　my　path　before。　　I　shall　have

a　quarrel　with　nature　all　my　life　if　I　must　believe　she　can　fashion

a　face　capable　of　meaning　so　much　and　yet　actually　meaning　so

little；　and　that　little　disgusting。〃



After　a　few　moments　of　deep　thought；　he　again　started　to　his　feet

and　commenced　pacing　his　studio。



〃Suppose；〃　he　soliloquized；　〃I　attempt　a　novel　bit　of　artistic　work

as　my　summer　recreation。　　Suppose　I　take　the　face　of　this　stranger

instead　of　a　piece　of　canvas　and　try　to　illumine　it　with　thought；

with　womanly　character　and　intelligence。　　If　I　fail；　as　I　probably

shall；　no　harm　will　be　done。　　If　her　silliness　and　vanity　are

ingrained　and　essential　parts　of　her　nature；　she　shall　learn　that

there　is　at　least　one　man　who　can　see　her　as　she　is；　and　whose

heart　is　not　wax　on　which　to　stamp　her　pretty　and　senseless　image。

If　I　only　partially　succeed；　if　I　discern　she　has　a　mind；　but

so　feeble　that　it　can　only　half　reclaim　her　from　her　weakness　and

folly；　still　something　will　be　accomplished。　　Her　features　are　so

beautiful；　that　should　they　come　to　express　even　the　glimmerings

of　that　which　is　admirable；　the　face　will　be　in　part　redeemed。

But　if　by　some　happy　miracle；　as　in　the　instance　of　the　original

Undine；　a　mind　can　be　awakened　that　will　gradually　prepare　a　place

for　the　soul　of　a　true　woman；　I　shall　accomplish　the　best　work　of

my　life；　even　estimated　from　an　artistic　point　of　view。　　Possibly；

for　my　reward；　she　will　permit　me　to　paint　her　portrait　as　a　souvenir

of　our　summer's　acquaintance。〃



It　did　not　take　Van　Berg　long　to　complete　his　arrangements　for

leaving　town。　　He　wrote　a　line　to　his　friend　Stanton；　saying　that

he　proposed　spending　a　few　weeks　in　the　vicinity　of　the　Highlands

on　the　Hudson；　and　that　he　could　not　say　when　he　would　be　at　his

rooms　or　at　home　again。　　The　afternoon　of　the　following　day　found

him　a　passenger　on　a　fleet　steamboat；　and　fully　bent　upon　carrying

out　his　odd　artistic　freak。











Chapter　IV。　　A　Parthian　Arrow。











As；　in　the　quiet　June　evening；　Harold　Van　Berg　glided　through　the

shadows　of　the　Highlands；　there　came　a　slight　change　over　his　spirit

of　philosophical　and　artistic　experiment。　　The　season　comported

with　his　early　manhood；　and　the　witching　hour　and　the　scenery　were

not　conducive　to　cold　philosophy。　　He　who　prided　himself　on　his

steady　pulse　and　a　devotion　to　art　so　absorbing　that　it　even　prompted

his　impulses　and　gave　character　to　his　recreation；　was　led　to　feel；

on　this　occasion；　that　his　mistress　was　vague　and　shadowy；　and　to

half　wish　for　that　companionship　which　the　most　self…reliant　natures

have　craved　at　times；　ever　since　man　first　felt；　and　God　knew；　that

it　was　〃not　good　for　him　to　be　alone。〃　　If　he　could　turn　from　the

beauty　of　the　sun…tipped　hills　and　rocks　and　the　gloaming　shadows

to　an　appreciative　and　sympathetic　face；　such　as　he　could　at

least　imagine　the　visage　of　Ida　Mayhew　might　become；　would　not　his

enjoyment　of　the　beauty　he　saw　be　doubly　enhanced？　　In　his　deepest

consciousness　he　was　compelled　to　admit　that　it　would。　　He　caught

a　glimpse　of　the　truth　that　he　would　never　attain　in　his　highest

manhood　until　he　had　allied　himself　to　a　womanhood　which　he　should

come　to　believe　supremely　true　and　beautiful。



The　ringing　of　the　bell　announced　his　landing；　and　in　the　hurry　and

bustle　of　looking　after　his　luggage　and　obtaining　a　ticket　which　he

had　forgotten　to　procure；　he　speedily　became　again；　in　the　world's

estimation；　and　perhaps　in　his　own；　a　practical；　sensible　man。　　An

hour　or　two's　ride　among　he　hills　brought　him　at　last　to　the　Lake

House；　where　he　selected　a　room　that　had　a　fine　prospect　of　the

mountains；　the　far　distant　river；　and　the　adjacent　open　country；

engaging　it　only　for　a　brief　time　so　that　he　might　depart　when　he

chose；　in　case　the　object　of　his　pursuit　should　not　appear；　or　he

should　weary　of　the　effort；　or　despair　of　its　success。



A　few　days　passed；　but　the　face　which　had　so　haunted　his　fancy

presented　no　actual　appearance。　　The　scenery；　however；　was　beautiful；

the　weather　so　perfect；　and　he　enjoyed　his　rambles　among　the　hills

and　his　excursions　on　the　water　so　thoroughly　that　he　was　already

growing　slightly　forgetful　of　his　purpose　and　satisfied　that　he

could　enjoy　himself　a　few　weeks　without　the　zest　of　artistically

redeeming　the　face　of　Ida　Mayhew。　　But　one　day；　while　at　dinner；

he　overheard　some　gossip　concerning　a　〃great　belle〃　who　was　to　come

that　evening；　and　he　at　once　surmised　that　it　was　the　fair　stranger

he　had　seen　at　the　concert。



At　the　ti