Van Berg assisted her down to the gangway and out on the wharf with a grave and scrupulous politeness, but she felt even more than she saw that her words had stung his very soul. It was their apparent truth which he could never explain away that gave them their power to wound so deeply, and every moment brought to him a clearer realization of the fact that he had tried to win, and was pledged to win a woman whom to wrong even unwittingly would be an act for which he could never forgive himself. And yet his heart sank at the thought of meeting her; indeed, so guilty and embarrassed did he become in his feelings that he decided he would not meet her before others, and sprang out of the stage, saying to the driver that he preferred walking the remainder of the way. Mr. Mayhew looked at him in some surprise, for his manner had changed so now as to attract his attention and excite disagreeable surmises.
To Ida's great relief Stanton had come down to meet her with his light-wagon. He had seen Van Berg at her side again with surprise, and, after his fast horses had whirled them well away by themselves, he asked a little abruptly:
"Ida, have you seen Van this week?"
She hesitated a moment, and then said briefly: "Yes. We met at the concert-garden again, and he dined with us last evening."
Stanton turned and looked at her earnestly, and her color rose swiftly under his questioning eyes.
"My poor little Ida, we are in the same boat, I fear," he said compassionately.
She hid her face on his shoulder. "Oh, Ik, spare me," she faltered.
"It's just as I feared," Stanton resumed, with a deep sigh. "Maledictions on such a world as ours! The devil rules it, sure enough."
"Oh, hush, hush," Ida sobbed.
"I see it all, now; indeed, I've thought it all out this past week.
You Sibley used only as a blind, poor child."