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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