A Face Illumined Part 74

"That's a truism that has become a little trite. Don't you think Mr. Eltinge will like my bouquet?"

"Here is a flower that to me is worth all that ever bloomed. Come and tell me if you still recognize it," and he took out the little note-book in which was pressed the imperfect and emblematic rose-bud.

"Poor little thing!" Ida sighed, looking over his shoulder, "how faded it has become!"

By a motion that was almost instantaneous he dropped the note-book and caught her hand. "Yes, Ida," he said eagerly, it is faded, but it grows dearer to me daily, as you will long after the exquisite color has faded from your face. Ida Mayhew, the brook has stopped now because it cannot help itself, nor will it ever go on again, even in spring or summer, unless it bears you away with it."

She turned and looked him full in his eyes, in accordance with her custom when she felt that she must know the innermost thoughts of the speaker.

"Mr. Van Berg," she said very gravely, "let that little emblem there remind you that you are speaking to a very faulty and ignorant girl. I cannot regain in a few weeks what I have lost in a wasted life. You may regret---"

"Hush, Ida; for once I will not listen to you. When I believed myself dying my chief thought was of you, and when I heard sounds near me, in my half unconscious state I called your name."

"Oh, that it had been my privilege to answer," she sighed.

"You saved me when I was in far worse peril," he resumed in words that flowed like a torrent. "You saved my honor, my manhood; you saved me from folly that would have blasted my life. I owe far more to you than to Jennie Burton, and I know at what cost to yourself.

Ida, I shall never hide anything from you. I came back last Monday for my sketch-book, and I heard you say: 'It would be easier for me to die than give him up for your sake, Jennie Burton.' Then only I learned your secret; then for the first I understood your self-sacrifice for the sake of honor and duty. Until then I thought the struggle to forget would be on my part only. From that moment never did a man honor a woman more than I honor and reverence you.

My mother gave me this ring and told me never to part with it until I found a woman that I could love and honor even more than her, and I never shall part with it till I put it on your hand," and she had scarcely time to glance down, before she saw a diamond glittering on her engagement finger.

"I gave up that which was life to me for His sake, and thus soon He gives back to me far more," Ida murmured, and she rested her head on Van Berg's shoulder with a look of infinite content. A moment later she added: "Oh, I'm so glad for father's sake."

"Are you not a little glad for your own?"

"Oh, Harold! compare this--G.o.d's way out of trouble with the one I chose!"

"The past has gone by forever, Ida, and you have received your woman's soul in the good old-fashioned way. In my heart of hearts I have changed your name from Ida to Ideal."

They had not noticed that Mr. Eltinge had come down the garden walk to summon them to dinner. The old gentleman discovered that there had been a transformation scene in his absence, although he took off his spectacles twice, and wiped them before he seemed fully satisfied of its reality.

"Ahem! I fear our plain dinner will be a very prosaic interruption; but---" he began.

"Oh, Mr. Eltinge," cried Ida, springing to him, her cheeks putting to shame any flower of his garden, "I owe all this to you!"

"Mr. Van Berg," said Mr. Eltinge, with the stately courtesy of the old school, "with your permission I now shall take full payment,"

and stooping down he kissed her tenderly, with a fervent "G.o.d bless you, my child! G.o.d bless you both! I thought it would all end in this way."

It was late in the day when Ida drove up to the steps of the Lake House and a.s.sisted Van Berg to alight with a care and solicitude that Stanton, who was grimly watching them, thought a trifle too apparent. She gave a hasty side-glance to her cousin, but would not trust herself to do more in the presence of others.

"Mr. Van Berg, I would like to see you alone a few moments," said Stanton in a low tone.

The artist hobbled cheerfully into one of the small private parlors, and stretched himself out very luxuriously on the sofa, saying as he did so, "Take the rocking-chair, Ik."

"No, sir," said Stanton stiffly. "I shall trespa.s.s but a few moments on your time--only long enough to keep a promise and perform a duty. In circ.u.mstances that you can scarcely have forgotten, you a.s.sured me that I was in honor bound to give my cousin, Miss Mayhew, a brother's care. You a.s.serted very emphatically that with her peculiar temperament she ought to be saved from any serious trouble. What I then promised from a sense of duty I now perform from warm affection. As far as a brother's love and care is concerned, Ida Mayhew is my sister, and as a brother I insist, in view of your relations with Miss Burton, that you do not give to her so much of your society. Not that I mean to insinuate in the faintest possible way, that my cousin entertains for you anything more than an ordinary and friendly regard. It is my intention only to remind you that your course has been a little peculiar of late, to say the least, and that it is often far better to prevent trouble than remedy it."

"The mischief is all done, Ik; you are too late."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, one thing at a time. Miss Burton has refused me absolutely."

"I don't wonder!" said Stanton indignantly.

"Nor I either, Ik. You are a hundredfold more worthy of her than I am or ever was. I once regarded myself as slightly your superior, Isaac, but circ.u.mstances have proved that you have enough good metal in you to make a dozen such men as I am."

"I want explanations, not compliments," said Stanton sternly.

"Sit down, and I'll tell you everything. Then you can brain me with one of the crutches, if you wish," and Van Berg related to Stanton substantially all that occurred between himself and Jennie Burton. "She said I could tell you after she was gone, but I think it is best you should know before. She understands and honors you, and you should understand her. Her heart is buried so deep in some unnamed, unmarked grave that it will find, I fear, no resurrection on earth. I told you the first day she came to this house that she had had an experience that separated her from ordinary humanity, and also predicted that she would wake you up and make a man of you. She has made you a prince among men. You are my elder brother, Ik, from this time forth, and I won't put on any more airs with you. As I said, your remarks in regard to your cousin came a little late. You see, my ring is gone, and you know I have often laughingly told you that my mother gave it to me on conditions that made it very safe property. I have parted with it, however, and very honestly too; but you will see it again, soon."

"Van," said Stanton, with a slight quaver in his voice, and a very sickly attempt at his old humor, "I have forfeited my wager that followed your prediction, which I thought so absurd at the time; but I'll forgive you everything, and bestow my blessing on you and Ida, if you will paint me a portrait of Miss Burton."

"The best I can possibly make, Ik, and she shall look as she did when she called you a true, n.o.ble-hearted gentleman."

Van Berg now found no difficulty in bringing about a friendship between Ida and Jennie Burton, and the two maidens spent the greater part of Sabbath afternoon together. Ida hid nothing in her full confidence, not even the crime that had been in her thoughts, and which might have destroyed the life that now was growing so rich and beautiful. When her pathetic story was completed, Jennie said:

"Mr. Van Berg has told me some things in your favor that you have omitted. I cannot flatter myself now that my love is stronger than yours, but you are stronger, you are braver. What is the secret of your strength? Your religion seems to do you more good than mine does me."

"Well, Jennie," said Ida musingly, there seems to me this difference.

"You have a G.o.d, I have a Saviour; you have a faith, I have a tender and helpful Friend. Jesus Christ has said to those who love and trust him: 'Let not your hearts be troubled.' He said these words to men who were to suffer all things, and did so, Mr. Eltinge told me. It's just the same as if he said, You don't know, I do; leave everything to me, and it shall all be for the best in the end. See how all my trouble this summer has just prepared for this happiness, and I believe, Jennie, that your eternity of happiness will be made all the richer for every sad day of your unselfish life. The souls of such men as Harrold Fleetwood are G.o.d's richest treasures, and he whose name is Love surely kindled such love as yours and his. The G.o.d that the Bible reveals to me will not permit it to be lost," and with Jennie's head on her bosom she sang low and sweetly:

No hope, 'tis said, though buried deep, But angels o'er it vigils keep; No love in sepulchre shall stay, For Christ our Friend has rolled away The heavy stone of death.

"Oh, sing me those words again," sobbed Jennie: "sing them again and again, till they fill my heart with hope."

Ida did so.

"O Ida! G.o.d's good angel to me as well as to Harold Van Berg,"

said Jennie, smiling through her tears. "I bless you for those hopeful words. They will repeat themselves in my heart till all is clear and our souls that G.o.d mated are joined again. My Harrold was not one who said 'Lord, Lord' very often, but I know that he tried to 'do the will of his Father which is in heaven.' I am going to your Friend, Ida, for if ever a poor mortal needed more than mortal help and cheer, I do. I shall just give up everything into his hands, and wait patiently."

"The life he will give you again, Jennie, will be infinitely richer than the one you have lost."

Early in the following week Miss Burton returned to her college duties. Before parting she said to Ida: "I do not think I shall ever give way again to my old, bitter, heart-breaking grief."

Almost every one in the house wanted to shake hands with her in farewell. Poor Mr. Burleigh tried to disguise his feelings by putting crepe on his hat and tying black shawl of his wife's around his arm; but he blew his nose so often that he finally said he was "taking cold on the piazza," and so made a hasty retreat.

Ida and Van Berg accompanied Jennie to the depot, but Stanton was not to be found till they reached the station, when he quietly stepped forward and handed Jennie her checks. She was trying to say something that she meant should show her appreciation, when the train thundered up, and he handed her into a palace car, in which she found he had secured her a seat, and before she had time to say a word her tickets were in her hands and he was gone.

When, after several hours' riding, she approached a station at which she must change cars and recheck her trunks, a friendly voice said to her:

"Miss Burton, if you will give me your checks I will attend to this little matter for you."

"Mr. Stanton!" she exclaimed. "What does this mean?"

"It means that since I am on the same train with you, I can do no less than offer so slight a service."

She looked at him very doubtfully, as she said: "I don't know what to think of this journey of yours. Let me now pay you for my ticket."

"Mr. Van Berg handed me the money you gave him for that purpose.