"
Van Berg was about to reply, when his attention was caught by a
vivid gleam in the face of Ida, who looked up as if she wished to
speak.
"I think Miss Mayhew has an opinion on this subject," he said, with
a bow.
She looked steadily at him as she replied promptly, "I have a
decided opinion, though I base it on such poor and narrow grounds
as personal experience. I think art is by far the most potent.
It has accomplished for me much more than science or religion ever
did, or could."
"What has it done for you, Miss Mayhew?" he asked, dreading the
answer.
"It has filled me with despair," she replied with a glance and
tone which he never afterwards forgot. Then, with the same cold,
quiet manner in which she had come, she left the table.
Van Berg turned very pale, for he at once understood her reference
to the emblematic rose-bud he had thrown away, and his remark, "Art
can tolerate no such imperfection."
Her words and manner hopelessly perplexed the others, but Van
Berg believed he had found light on the problem that had hitherto
baffled him, but so far from being reassured, he had never been at
such bitter odds with himself before.
He also soon after left the table, hoping to find an opportunity
to express his regret that he had been so harsh by prejudice; but
Miss Mayhew was not to be found.
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