Chapter XLIII. A "Heavenly Mystery."
While Ida's manner at the breakfast-table was quiet and self-possessed,
she still maintained the same distant bearing which had been
characteristic the evening before. It was evident to Van Berg,
however, that pride, wounded vanity, and resentment were no longer
the motives for the seclusion in which she sought to remain, even
while under the eyes of others. It was the natural shrinking of
one who would hide weakness, trouble, and imperfection. It was
the bearing of one who had been deeply humiliated, and who was
conscious of a partial estrangement towards those having a knowledge
of this humiliation. Thus far he could understand her; and in the
proportion she was depressed and withdrew from social recognition
and encouragement, his sympathy and respect were drawn out towards
her.
"She is not trivial and superficial, as I supposed," he thought
twenty times that morning. "There is not a sudden calm after
the storm that has been raging, as would be the case were she in
character like a shallow pool. Her manner now proves daily the
largeness of the nature that has been so deeply moved, and which,
like the agitated sea, regains its peace but slowly;" and the sagacious
Van Berg, whose imagination was not under very good control began
to react into the other extreme, and query whether Ida Mayhew's
moral nature, now that it was aroused, was not her chief characteristic.
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