Meanwhile, the subject of his many-colored speculations had driven
away in the low basket phaeton, having first explained briefly to
her mother that she intended to spend the morning again with the
two old people she had visited the previous day.
Stanton volunteered this amount of information to his friend, and
there was much surmise and curiosity in their minds in regard to
these "old people," and her motive in seeking them. But even Mrs.
Mayhew had begun to realize that they must take Ida at her word
and leave her to herself.
It was with something even more than hopefulness that Ida drew near
to the garden again. She was alive; that fact, in contrast with
what might have been, was like solid ground beneath her feet. Then,
again, in the place of the cold, distant manner of the guests, after
the departure of Sibley, she had already noticed friendly glances
and an evident disposition to make amends. It also gave her not a
little satisfaction that her cousin and the artist were experiencing
such sincere compunctions, and were realizing the enormity of their
offence. Ida was very human, and always would be. She was also
a little elated over the fact that she had been able to tell the
truth the evening before.
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