Pardon me, Ik; I am not speaking of
your cousin but in the abstract. In regard to that young lady,
as you saw, I was very much struck with the face. Indeed, to tell
the honest truth, I never saw so much beauty spoiled before, and
the fact has put me in so bad a humor that you, no doubt, are glad
I have reached my corner and so must say good-night."
"Ida Mayhew can realize all such abstractions," muttered Ik Stanton,
as he walked on alone.
The reader will be apt to surmise, however, that some resentment,
resulting from his former and unrequited sentiment towards the
girl, gave an unjust bias to his judgement.
Chapter III. An Artist's Freak.
Van Berg's night-key admitted him to a beautiful home, which he
now had wholly to himself, since his parents and sister had sailed
for Europe early in the spring, intending to spend the summer
abroad. The young man had already travelled and studied for years
in the lands naturally attractive to an artist, and it was now his
purpose to familiarize himself more thoroughly with the scenery of
his own country.
On reaching his own apartment he took down a prosy book, that he
might read himself into that condition of drowsiness which would
render sleep possible; but sleep would not come, and the sentences
were like the passers-by in the street, whom we see but do not note,
and for whose coming and going we know not the reasons.
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