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recognized before； had stepped out before the gilt and tinsel； and
the miserable shams were seen in contrast in their rightful character。
But； in bringing the revelation； it happened he had so deeply
wounded her pride； that she had assured herself； again and again；
she would hate his very name as long as she lived。 Did she hate him
as she saw him absorbed in conversation with Miss Burton whenever
he could obtain the opportunity？ Did she hate him as she saw that
his eyes consciously avoided her and rested approvingly on another
woman？ Were hate and love so near akin？ Could the belief that he
despised her make her so wretched if she only hated him？
During the early part of the present week she had struggled almost
fiercely to retain her hold on her old life。 Uniting herself to a
clique of thoughtless young people； who made amusement and excitement
their only pursuit； she seemed to be the gayest and most reckless
of them all； while her heart was sinking like lead。 Every glance
toward the cold； averted face of the artist； inspired her with more
than his own scorn toward what she was and the frivolities of her
life。 She tried to shut her eyes to the truth； and clung desperately
to every impeding trifle； but felt all the time that an irresistible
tide of events was carrying her toward the revelation that she
loved a man who despised her； and always would despise her。
And on this night； when she saw their dim forms and heard their low
tones as Miss Burton and Van Berg talked earnestly on the farther
end of the piazza； when she saw that they grasped hands in parting；
and noted the rapt look upon his face as he passed her by uncaringly
and unnotinglythe revelation came。 It was as sharply and painfully
distinct as if he had stopped and plunged a knife into her heart。
With all her faults and follies； Ida had never been a pale shadowy
creature； full of complex psychological moods which neither she
nor any one else could untangle。 She knew whom and what she liked
and disliked； and it was not her nature to do things by halves。
There had always been a kind of simplicity and straightforwardness
even in her wickedness； and she usually seemed to people quite as
bad； and indeed worse； than she really was。
Why of all others she loved this man； and how it all had come about；
was a mystery that puzzled her sorely； but she had no labyrinthine
heart in which to play hide and seek with her own consciousness。
And so vividly conscious was she now of this new and absorbing
passion； that she hastily turned her face from her companions toward
the cloudy sky； that looked as dark to her as it had to Jennie
Burton； and for a moment sought desperately to recover from a dizzy；
reeling sense of pain that was well…nigh overwhelming。 Then the
womanly instinct to hide her secret asserted itself； and a moment
later her laugh jarred discordantly on Van Berg's ears； and he
interpreted it as wisely as have thousands of others who fail to
recognize the truth that often no cry of pain is so bitter as a
reckless laugh。
A little later； however； her companions missed her。 Later still
her mother sought admission to her room in vain。
When she came down to breakfast the next morning； she was very
quiet and self…possessed； but her face was so pale and the traces
of suffering were so manifest； that her mother insisted that she
was not well。
She coldly admitted the fact。
The voluble lady launched out into an indefinite number of questions
and suggestions of remedies。
〃Mother；〃 said Ida； with a flash of her eyes and an accent which
caused not only that lady but several others to look toward her
with a little surprise； 〃if you have anything further to say to me
in regard to my health； please say it in my own room。〃
Van Berg glanced towards her several times after this； and was
compelled to admit that whatever fault he might justly find； the
face with which she confronted him that morning was anything but
weak and trivial in its expression。
But her icy reserve and coldness did not compare favorably with Miss
Burton； who had now fully regained her smiling reticence； acting
as usual as if the only law of her being was to utter genial words
and to bestow with consummate tact little gifts of attention and
kindness on every side； as the summer sun without was scattering
its vivifying rays。
Chapter XXI。 A Deliberate Wooer。
Miss Burton's bearing toward Van Berg was very friendly； but he
failed to detect in her manner the slightest proof that she had ever
thought of him otherwise than as a friend。 There was no sudden
drooping of her eyelashes； or heightening of color when he spoke to
her； or permitted his eyes to dwell upon her face with an expression
that was rather more than friendly。 He could detect no furtive
glances； nothing to indicate that she had caught a glimpse of that
secret so interesting to every woman that she would look again；
though cold as ice toward the man cherishing it。 Nor was there the
slightest trace of the constraint and reserve by which all women
who are not coquettes seek to check； as with an early frost； the
first growth of an unwelcome regard。 Her manner was simply what
would be natural toward a gentleman she thoroughly respected and
liked； with whom her thoughts； for no hidden cause； were especially
preoccupied。
Why then had she looked at him so strangely the preceding evening？
Why had she apparently shrunk from the expression of his face； as
if she had seen there a revelation so sudden and overwhelming that
she trembled at it as a shy； sensitive maiden might in recognizing the
fact that a strong； resolute man was seeking entrance to the very
citadel of her heart？ He felt himself utterly unable to explain
her action。
What was more； he was puzzled at himself。 The sympathy he felt
for Miss Burton the previous evening had not by any means left him；
but it was no longer a strong and absorbing emotion。 His pulse
was as calm and quiet as the breathless summer morning。 He was
conscious of no premonitory chills and thrills； which； according to
his preconceived notions of the 〃grand passion；〃 ought to be felt
even in its incipiency。 He even found himself criticising her
face； and wondering how features so ordinary in themselves could
combine in so winning and happy an effect； and then he mentally
cursed his cold…bloodedness； and positively envied Stanton in whose
manner； in spite of his efforts at concealment； an ardent affection
began to manifest itself。
During the day it occurred to him more than once that her course
was changing toward Stanton。 There was no less return on her part
of his light bantering style of conversation。 Indeed； she seemed
to take great pains to give a humorous twist to everything he said；
as if she regarded even the words in which he tried to unfold his
deeper thoughts as mere jests。 But Van Berg imagined