American fiction -- 19th century; Artists -- Fiction
"She may be a bad woman," he thought, "but she has become a woman
in the last few days. She looks years older. I thought her shallow,
but she's too deep for me. For some reason I can't associate
that face, as it now appears, with Sibley, and yet it is so full
of mingled pain and defiance, that one might almost think she
meditated a crime. She looks ill. She is ill--she is growing
thin and hollow-eyed. What a magnificent study she would make of
a half-famished captive; or of beauty chained--not married to a
man hateful and hated; or, possibly, of innocence meditating guilt,
and yet seeking vainly to disguise the dark thoughts by a marble
mask. There is some transforming process going on in Ida Mayhew's
mind, and from her appearance I rather dread the outcome; but her
face is becoming a rare study."
Although with the exception of a slight response to his formal
bow she had sought to ignore his presence and to avoid his eyes,
she was still conscious of this furtive scrutiny, and it hurt
her cruelly. It seemed as if he were studying her as one might a
peculiar specimen.
"His critical eyes are trying to look into me heart as they did
into the poor little rose-bud," she thought; and her face grew
more rigid and inscrutable under his gaze. as early as possible
she left the table.
"I wish I knew just what her trouble was," thought the artist. "If
not connected with that wretch Sibley, I could pity her with all
my heart. Well, take all the good the gods send, I'll sketch her
face this afternoon as I have last seen it."
"Your cousin begins to look decidedly ill," he said to Stanton,
after dinner.
His friend's only reply was an imprecation.
"Your remark is emphatic enough, but I don't understand it any
better than I do Miss Mayhew."
"It's to your credit you don't. Her mother has reason to believe
that there is some deviltry on foot between her and Sibley. I'm to
find out and thwart her if I can. I suppose I shall have to say,
in substance: 'Since you will throw yourself away on the fellow,
go through all the formalities that society demands. In such case
your family will submit, if they can't approve. You see I'm frank
with you, as I've been from the first.' Would to heaven she had
never come here, and now think of it there has been a change in
her for the worse ever since she came. It must be the influence of
that cursed Sibley. Some women are fools to begin with; but from
a fool infatuated with a villain, good Lord deliver us!"
"You fear an elopement then?" said Van Berg, his face darkening
into his deepest frown.
"I fear worse than that. Sibley is as treacherous as a quagmire.
If a woman ventured into a false position with him he would marry
her only when compelled to do so. I'm savage enough to shoot
them both this afternoon. I see but one way out. I must warn her
promptly, and in language so emphatic that she will understand it,
that everything must be after the regulation style."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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