That Stanton was so distant was explained by the fact that he was an unsuccessful rival.Both Van Berg and Ida puzzled Stanton as far as he gave them thought,but in his honest loyalty his heart was in the darkened room in which poor Jennie was resting,more from her long passionate struggle with a sorrow she could not bury than from the exhaustion caused by her rescue of Van Berg.
Friday morning happened to be very warm,and Ida did not visit Mr.
Eltinge,but ensconced herself in a distant corner of the piazza with a book,the pages of which were not turned very regularly.
"I wonder,"she thought,"when,if ever,we shall have another friendly talk.What a strange,deep hush,as it were,has come after the passionate joy and desperate sorrow and fear of the past week!It is the type of what my inner life will be.But I must not complain;thousands of hearts,no doubt,are the burial-places of as dear a hope as mine;and One is pledged to give me back my life in some way,and at some time.
"Miss Ida,"said a voice that made her start and crimson in spite of herself,"may I come out and talk with you a little while?"and she saw that Van Berg was speaking to her through the window blinds of one of the private parlors.
"Yes,"she said hesitatingly,"if you think it is best."He went around and came openly to her side,bringing a small camp-chair with him.as he steadied himself against a piazza column in taking his seat,and leaned his crutches on the railing,her looks were very sympathetic.With a smile he took on of his crutches in his hands as he said:
"I have come to these very properly at last,and you must have seen their significance.It is my spiritual and moral lameness,however,that now troubles me most,Miss Mayhew.When lying at the bottom of that ravine,expecting death,I vowed,like most sinners in similar circumstances,I suppose,that if I ever escaped Iwould become a Christian man.I intend to keep the vow if it is a possible thing.But I make no progress.I prayed then,and Ihave prayed and read my Bible since,but everything is forced and formal,and the thought will come to me continually,that I might as well pray to Socrates or Plato as to Christ.I wish you could teach me your faith.""Mr.Van Berg,"replied Ida,with a troubled face,"I'm not wise enough to guide you in such a matter.I would much rather you would talk with Mr.Eltinge or some learned,good man.""I shall be glad to see Mr.Eltinge,but I don't care to go to the learned man just yet.We might get into an argument,in which of course I should be worsted,but I fear not convinced.I have never known anything so real as your faith has seemed,but I can obtain nothing that in the least corresponds with it.I ask,but receive no more response than if I spoke to the empty air.Then comes the strong temptation to relapse into the old materialistic philosophy,which I had practically accepted,and to believe that religious experiences are imaginary,or the result of education and temperament.At the same time I have found this philosophy such a wretched support,either in life or in the prospect of death,that I would be glad to throw it away as worthless.""I fear to speak to you on this subject,"she said,"and shall not for a moment attempt to teach you anything.They say facts are stubborn things,and I'll tell you a few,which to my simple,homely common-sense are conclusive.To a man's reason they may count for little.My religious experiences are not the result of education or temperament,but are contrary to both;and if they are imaginary,all my experiences are imaginary.Perhaps I can best tell you what I mean by an illustration that is a pleasant one to me.There is a partially finished picture in your studio that I hope to hang some day in my own sanctum at home.How shall I ever know that Ihave that picture?How shall I ever know that you have given it to me?I shall know it because you keep your promise and send it to me.I shall have it in my possession,and I shall enjoy it daily.
Are not hope,patience,peace,when the world could give no peace,as real as your picture?Is not the honest purpose to overcome a nature that you know is so very faulty,as real a gift as any Icould receive?If the Friend I have found promises me such things,and at once begins to keep his word,why should I not trust him?