American fiction -- 19th century; Artists -- Fiction
Excitement and her strong will kept her up for a long time, but as
the evening advanced despondency and weariness began to gain the
mastery. Sibley came to her and said: "Miss Ida, I have your hand
for the next waltz, but I see you are worn and tired. Let us go
out on the cool piazza instead of dancing."
Listlessly she took his arm and passed through one of the open
windows near. Van Berg had disappeared some time before, and there
was no longer any motive to keep up the illusion of gayety.
Hardly had she stepped on the piazza before she heard her father
say:
"Miss Burton, if it will give you any pleasure to know that you have
made this evening memorably bright to one whose life is peculiarly
clouded, you can certainly enjoy that assurance in the fullest
measure. You have kept your word and have not preached at me at
all; and yet I feel I ought to be a better man for this interview."
"O, Miss Ida," exclaimed Sibley, "this is the opportunity that I
have been wishing for all the evening. I cannot tell you how gladly
I exchange the glare of that room for the light of your eyes only.
Would that life were but one long summer evening, and your eyes
the only starts in my sky."
"Absurd," she carelessly replied; and then they passed out of
hearing.
"Good-night, Miss Burton," said Mr. Mayhew abruptly; and he hastily
descended the steps and was soon lost from view in the darkness.
His daughter and the man who seemed to be the companion of her
choice, brought back at once the old conditions of his life. The
prison walls closed around him again, the air seemed all the more
foul and stifling in contrast with the pure atmosphere which he had
been breathing, and the gloom of the night was light in comparison
with his thoughts as he muttered:
"If Ida were only like this good angel she might save even me; but
after my long absence she leaves me wholly to myself for the sake
of a man who ought to be an offence to her. If I tell her and
her mother what his reputation in New York is they will not listen
to me. Although he is the known slave of every vice, my daughter
smiles upon him. Froth and mud we are now and ever will be. After
a glimpse into the life of that pure, good woman who has tried to
be God's messenger to me to-night, I can find no words to express
my loathing of the slough in which I and mine have mired. My only
child, by the force of natural selection, bids fair to add to our
number a drunkard and a libertine; and I am powerless to prevent
it. The mother that should guard and guide her child, is blind to
everything save that he is rich. Froth and mud! Froth and mud!"
Unable to endure his thoughts, he went to his room and found oblivion
in the stupor of intoxication.
On reaching the end of the long piazza, Sibley led Ida to a veranda
little frequented at that hour, saying, as he did so:
"Let us get away from prying eyes. I always feel when with you
that three is an enormous crowd."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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