"
Stanton and Mrs. Mayhew now appeared, and the conversation became
general, in which the former made rather futile efforts to conceal
his dejection. His aunt had told him that Ida had merely said she
had spent the day with a friend, and that she would explain her
absence at the proper time. "She has such a dignified way of speaking,
that you are made to feel it is an insult to ask a question, so I
shall just take her at her word, and leave her to herself," concluded
the lady.
"She'll never forgive me," muttered Stanton.
A little later than the others, the object of his thoughts came
down to supper. The deep color which the unexpected episode with
the artist had caused now lingered only as a faint glow in her
cheeks. She had fastened a few pear leaves in her hair, and wore
no other ornament. Her thin white dress suggested rather than
reveated the exquisite symmetry of her neck and arms, and Van Berg
was compelled to admit to himself that his trained and critical
eyes could scarcely detect a flaw in her marvellous beauty, or in
the taste shown in her costume.
But there was something about her manner which appealed to him more
than her beauty even.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493