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Once in the social eye it would be Mrs。 Mayhew's strongest impulse
to make a good impression； and she behaved beautifully。 Something
in Ida's manner puzzled her father； but she smiled so reassuringly
that he gave himself up to the quiet enjoyment of the situation
that was so natural and yet so novel。 He listened with a pleased
expression to the music； and noted； with deep satisfaction； the
friendly and respectful bearing of those near； towards both his
wife and himself； but he exulted in the evident admiration that
his daughter excited。 The people at the Lake House had already
discovered that there was a decided change for the better in the
Mayhew family； and they greeted the improvement with a kindly but
well…bred and unobtrusive welcome that was creditable to human
nature。 Of course there was a great deal of whispered surmise；
but nothing offensive to the eye。
Stanton came and asked Ida to join in the singing at the piano；
but she shook her head decidedly。
〃Who has been hurting your feelings？〃 he asked； in a low tone。
By a scarcely perceptible gesture； she put her finger on her lips
and said quietly； 〃They are waiting for you； Cousin Ik。〃 Then she
added； with a smile； 〃Somewhere I've heard a proverb expressing
surprise that Saul should be among the prophets。 I hardly think
it will be in good taste for me to appear among them just yet。〃
〃And I once believed her to be a fool；〃 thought Stanton as he
returned to his place。
Again； on this Sunday evening； keen eyes were watching her from
the dusky piazza； but so far from being wolfish and ravenous； they
were full of sympathy and admiration。
As Van Berg approached the parlor windows after his return； he saw
Stanton standing by the piano at Jennie Burton's side； and she was
looking up to him and speaking in a very friendly manner。 He was
not conscious of any appropriate pangs of jealousy； and indeed
did not miss their absence； but he looked eagerly around for the
problem his philosophical mind was so bent on solving。
At first the favorable impression made by the reunited family caught
his attention； and he muttered； 〃There is some more of her magic。
But what is the matter with Miss Mayhew herself。 Her eyes are
burning with a fire that is anything but tender and sacred； and
there are moments when her face is almost stern； and again it is
full of trouble。〃
Some one discovered him on the piazza； and there was a general
wish expressed that he should sing with Miss Burton a duet that
had become a favorite。 After this and one or two other pieces；
he again sought his place of observation。 The color and fire had
now wholly faded from Miss Mayhew's face； and she looked pale and
sad。 Her father turned to her； and said：
〃Ida； I fear you don't feel well。〃
〃I'm very tired； and think I had better go to my room。〃
He rose instantly； and gave her his arm； but on the way she reassured
him： 〃A night's sleep； and the rest I shall have with you in the
city are just what I need； so don't worry； for I shall be ready to
take the train with you in the morning；〃 and Mr。 Mayhew rejoined
his wife； and completed a happier day than he ever expected to see
again。
But poor Ida； when left alone； buried her face in her hands
and sobbed； 〃I've wounded HIS feelings； I've given way to my old
passionate anger； I've spoken to mother as a daughter never should。
What will ever become of faulty Ida Mayhew？ The worm…eaten emblem
is true of me still。〃
Then； as if whispered to her by some good angel； the words Mr。
Eltinge had spoken recurred to her。 〃Your Saviour will be as tender
and patient with you as a mother with her baby that is learning to
walk。〃
〃Oh；〃 she cried； in a low； passionate tone； 〃that is the kind of
a God I need！〃
She also remembered the reassuring words that Mr。 Eltinge had
quoted〃As one whom his mother comforteth so will I comfort you；〃
and the promise was made good to her。
〃Stanton；〃 said Van Berg； a little abruptly； before they parted
that evening； 〃I fear； from your cousin's appearance； she was ill
when she left the parlor。〃
〃I've given up trying to understand Ida。 When she came down with
her mother； she looked like an incensed goddess； and when she
returned she reminded me of the fading white lily she wore in her
hair。 I give it up；〃 concluded Stanton； whose language had become
a trifle figurative and poetic of late。
〃I don't；〃 muttered the artist； after smoking the third consecutive
cigar in solitude。
Chapter XLVII。 The Concert Garden Again。
Van Berg had scarcely ever known a day to pass more slowly and
heavily than Monday。 He had taken pains to be present at Ida's
departure with her father； and it had depressed him unaccountably
that she had been so quiet as to seem even a little cold in her
farewell。 She would not look towards him； nor could he catch her
eye or obtain one friendly expression。 He did not know that the
poor girl dared not smile or speak lest she should be too friendly；
and that she avoided him with the instinct of self…preservation。
His conclusion was： 〃She finds； after thinking it all over； that
she has far more to forgive than she thought； and my presence
reminds her of everything she would be glad to forget。〃
He tried once or twice to find Jennie Burton； but did not succeed。
She made no apparent effort to avoid him； and was so cordial in
her manner when they met that he had severe compunctions that he
did not seek her society resolutely and press his suit。 〃The summer
is drawing to a close；〃 he muttered； 〃and nothing is settled。 Confound
it all！ I'm the least settled of anything。 The best chance I shall
ever have is passing swiftly。 Ever faculty I possess assures me
that she is the one woman of all the world。 I honor her； I reverence
her； I admire her and everything she does and says。 I trust her
implicitly； even though she is so shrouded in mystery。 What the
mischief is the matter with my old water…logged heart that it should
be so heavy and dumpish？〃
But so it was。 Jennie Burton smiled on him and others as brightly
as ever； and yet he knew her heart was breaking； for she was growing
slighter and more spirit…like daily。 His desire to comfort her；
however； by a life…long effort ebbed away； till he was cursing himself
for a fickle； cold…blooded wretch。 〃I had better shut myself up
in my studio；〃 he said to himself。 〃I may make a painter； but I
never will anything else；〃 and early on Tuesday he went doggedly
to work on Mr。 Eltinge's picture。
His perplexed and jarring thoughts gradually ceased their discord
as he became absorbed in his loved and familiar tasks。 Sweet and
low at first； and in the faint； broken suggestion of his kindling
fancy； the symphonic poem he had heard in the garden began again；
but at last his imagination made it almost real。 He listened once
more to Ida's girlish； plaintiv