American fiction -- 19th century; Artists -- Fiction
"And yet she seems to have a kind of quickness and aptness. She is
not wanting in womanly intuition. I still am inclined to believe
she has been dwarfed by circumstances and her wretched associations.
Her mind has been given no better means of development than
the knowledge of her beauty, the general and superficial homage
that it always receives, the little round of thought that centres
about self, and the daily question of dress. That's narrowing the
world down to a cage large enough only for a poll-parrot. If the
bird within has a parrot's nature, what is the use of opening the
door and showing it larks singing in the sky? I fear that's what
I'm trying to do, and that I shall go back to my fall work with a
meagre portfolio and a grudge against nature, for mocking me with
the fairest broken promise ever made."
Chapter XIV. A Revelation.
The next day threatened to be a dreary one, for the rain fell so
steadily as to make all sunny, out-of-door pleasures impossible.
Many looked abroad with faces as dismal and cloudy as the sky;
for the number of those who rise above their circumstances with a
cheery courage are but few. Human faces can shine, although the
sun be clouded; but, as a rule, the shadow falls on the face also,
and the regal spirit succumbs like a clod of earth.
The people came straggling down late to breakfast in the dark
morning, and, with a childish egotism that considers only self and
immediate desires, the lowering weather which meant renewed beauty
and wealth to all the land, was berated as if it were a small spite
against the handful of people at the Lake House. Van Berg heard
Ida Mayhew exclaiming against the clouds as if this spite were
aimed at herself only.
"Some of her friends might not venture from the city," she said.
"They youths are not venturesome, then," remarked Stanton, who
never lost an opportunity to tease.
"Of course they don't wish to get wet," she pouted.
"And yet I'll wager any amount that they are not of the 'salt of
the earth' in any scriptural sense. Well, they had better stay
in town, for this would be an instance of 'much ventured, nothing
gained.'"
"You remind me of a certain fox who could not say enough hard things
about the grapes that were out of reach. But mark my words, Mr.
Sibley will come, if it pours."
"He wouldn't risk the spoiling of his clothes for any woman living."
"You judge him by yourself. Oh, dear, how shall I get through this
long, horrible day! You men can smoke like bad chimneys through
a storm, but for me there is no resource to-day, but a dull novel
that I've read once before. Let me see, I'll read an hour and
sleep three, and then it will be time to dress for dinner. Oh,
good-morning, Mr. Van Berg," she says to the artist who had been
listening to her while apparently giving close attention to Mrs.
Mayhew's interminable tirade against rainy days; "I have just been
envying you gentlemen who can kill stupid hours by smoking."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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