Towards evening Ida slowly and languidly dressed for supper, and
then sauntered down to the main piazza for a little fresh air.
The poor girl did not exaggerate the shadow that had fallen upon
her association with Sibley, and her supposed grief and resentment
at his treatment. Two or three whom she met bowed coldly and
distantly, and one passed without recognition. Even Jennie Burton
had been indignant all day that one of her sex could be infatuated
with such a fellow; and in her charitable thoughts she would be
glad to explain such perversity as the result of a disordered and
uncurbed fancy, rather than of a depraved heart.
It was not strange, however, that she should suppose Ida's manner
and indisposition were caused by Sibley's ignominious ejectment from
the house, when her own mother and cousin shared the same view.
What an unknown mystery each life is, even to the lives nearest to
it!
As with slow, heavy steps, Ida approached the main entrance, she
noted the distant manner of those she met, and divined the cause;
but her apathy was so great that neither anger nor shame brought
the faintest color to her cheeks.
She stood in the doorway and looked out a few moments; but the
lovely summer landscape, with the cool shadows lengthening across
it, was a weariness, and she turned from it as the miserable do
from sights that only mock by their pleasant contrast.
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