After the characteristic act by which Ida had identified the tree--once so bruised and broken--with herself,she sat down again at its foot and thought long and deeply.The deep hush and quiet of the quaint old garden was just what she needed after the delirium of her passion and despair.Her pulse began to grow more even,and her beautiful face sweet and noble with the better thoughts she now was entertaining.As she sat there leaning her head against the bole of the tree,the shadows of the leaves above deepening and brightening across her pale features,and her large,dark eyes often growing humid with sympathy with her thoughts,she made as fair a picture as could Eve herself,were she dreaming over her lost garden-home.At last she said slowly:
"I wonder if it will be possible for a Divine love gradually to supplant a human love?'Whom to know is eternal life.'This hope seems to be my only hope--my only remedy,my one chance.I must soon go back to the city,where I cannot see good old Mr.Eltinge,where I will no longer have the excitement of occasionally meeting Mr.Van Berg,where I shall be fact to face with only the hard,prosaic difficulties that will abound in the world without,but especially in my own home.I plainly foresee that I shall become bitter,selfish,and reckless again,unless I find such a Friend as Mr.Eltinge describes,who will give me daily and positive help;a mere decorous,formal religion will be of no more use to me than pictures of bread to the famishing.I must have a strong,patient Friend who will see me through my troubles,or I'm lost.I may even grow as desperate and wicked as I have been again,"and she buried her face in her hands and fairly trembled with apprehension.
"Come,my child,cheer up!All will end well yet.Take an old man's word for it.I've lived through several troubles that I thought would finish me,thanks to the good Lord,and here I am now,safe and sound and in the possession of two good homes--this one and the better one over the river they say is so dark.I don't believe it's much more of a river to the Christian than yonder little brook;but I can tell you,my child,we'll find a wonderful difference between the two shores."Ida found that the old gentleman had joined her unperceived,and she told him of her fears.
"Now,don't worry,"he answered,"about what will happen when you go back to the city.Christ himself has said:'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'Your whole duty is to do your best now,and he'll take care of the future.He did not call himself the 'Good Shepherd'for nothing,as I and millions of others,know from experience.He'll see you over all the hard places,if you ask him to,and just follow patiently.You may not be able to see the way or know where he is leading you,any more than the sheep;but the path,however flinty and thorny,will end in the fold.Of that be assured."And he gave her one or two sad chapters from his own life of which he could now speak calmly and understandingly.
As they were about to part,Ida said:"Mr.Eltinge,I'm so ignorant that I have not the remotest idea how to commence this Christian life.I greatly wish to form a character worthy of respect,but I don't know how to set about it.""Commence by living simple and true,my dear.Truthfulness is the corner-stone of the character that men most respect and God will honor.None of us can be perfect,but we can all be honest,and pretend to be no better than we are.Just simply follow your conscience,pray daily for light and guidance,and do the best you can.Live up to the light as you get it,and remember the good Lord will be as patient with you as a mother with her baby that is just learning to walk.Be truthful and sincere as you have been with me to-day,and all will be well."Then he brought a step-ladder,and filled a little basket with pears.
"They'll ripen nicely in your drawer,"he said,"and I shouldn't wonder if you found 'em kind of nourishing to your soul as well as body,now you know how they grew."With a promise to come on the morrow Ida drove away more cheered and comforted than she had thought it possible ever to be again.
But as she approached the hotel piazza,and saw the artist talking with Jennie Burton,she experienced a sinking of heart that taught her how difficult her path must be at best.
Van Berg hastened down eagerly to assist her to alight,for her reappearance lifted a terrible load of anxiety from his mind.In spite of herself the color rushed into the cheeks which of late had become so pale,and the hand she gave him trembled as he helped her from the phaeton.
"I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again.I've been oppressed with fear all day,"he could not forbear saying,in a low tone.
"I suppose you naturally felt that you could not trust me,"she replied,averting her face."I've been spending the day with a friend.""Forgive me,"he said eagerly."I seem fated to wound you,but Iwish they might hereafter be the wounds of a friend."She would not trust herself to look up till she became more composed,but could not resist the impulse to say:"Do friends give only wounds?"Van Berg bit his lip and followed her slowly up the steps.
"I see from your basket,"said Miss Burton,kindly,"that you have been foraging.I hope you had good success.""Yes,I think I've been successful,"replied Ida,who was desperately sorry that Miss Burton had intercepted her and must see her burning cheeks."I have not found roses,as you did,but perhaps these are more in keeping with my prosaic and material nature;"and she lifted the cover and offered the fruit.
"You treat me better than I did you,"said Miss Burton,smilingly,and ignoring an implied satire which Ida had not intended."I did not give you any of my roses."Ida shot a side glance at the artist which said to him plainly:
"But Mr.Van Berg did,"and he flushed deeply.
Then she selected a superb pear,and after looking at it keenly a moment,handed it to him with the low words:
