She could pity Ida--she could pity any one; but the
poor girl's unfortunate association with Sibley, and her seeming
interest in him, would subordinate pity to indignation and contempt.
Her thought was this:
"Miss Mayhew is still a maiden free to choose. Shame on her that
she chooses so ignobly! Shame on her that she turns her eyes
longingly to fetid pools, instead of upward to the breezy hills.
What kind of nature is that which prompts such a choice?"
The artist was more capable of Jennie Burton's indignation and
contempt than of her pity; and although he knew Ida still stood
in the doorway he did not turn to speak to her. His very attitude
seemed to indicate to the unhappy girl a haughty indifference, and
yet she was so unhappy, so in need of a kind word or reassuring
glance that she could not turn away.
"What a wretched mystery it all is," she thought. "I ought to hate,
yet I love him. Proud as I have thought myself, I could kneel at
his feet for one such word and glance as he just gave Miss Burton.
For contempt I return him honor and admiration. I cannot help
myself. By some strange perversity of my heart, I have become
his very slave. How can he be so blind! He thinks me pining for
a man that I despise and hate more than he ever can, though the
fellow attempted his life.
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