If only as the result of the pique originating on the evening of
the concert, Ida Mayhew had stood aloof from him, he could hope to
remove this early prejudice by better acquaintance. But if fuller
acquaintance increased her aversion, then he must believe that
the defects in her character were radical, inwrought through the
whole web and woof of her nature. He could not assume the "Sibley
style" if he would, and would not if he could, were her beauty a
hundred-fold greater, were that possible.
He was fast coming to the conclusion, therefore, that he must abandon
the project which had so fascinated him, and whose success had so
strongly kindled his imagination. And yet he did so reluctantly,
very regretfully, chafing as only the strong-willed do, when
confronted and thwarted by that which is only apparently impossible,
and which they still feel might and ought to be accomplished.
"I feel as the old alchemists must have done," he often thought.
"Here is a base metal. Why can I not transmute it into gold?"
But as the conviction of his impotence grew upon him he felt something
like resentment toward the one who had thwarted his purpose; and so
it naturally happened that when they met again at the supper-table,
his cool and indifferent manner corresponded with that of Miss Mayhew
to a degree that gave her a deeper pain than she could understand.
Pages:
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235