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Deep in her heart she was conscious that hope was reviving again that the end had not yet come. The gay young party, touched and subdued, passed out quietly with the others. But Ida lingered. "Who is that old gentleman?" she asked of a lady near her. "That is Mr. Eltinge Mr. James Eltinge," was the reply.
Well, on that dreadful night the party I was with went into a prayer-meeting, more by the way of frolic than anything else. I did not wish to go in, but, strange as it may seem to you, I was afraid to walk home, and so had to follow my company. Good old Mr. Eltinge spoke to us.
Eltinge, and so many others do have faith, with good reasons for it, and are able to say, "I KNOW that my Redeemer liveth. The testimony of other people counts for something in most matters. Why must such men as Mr. Eltinge be set down either as deceivers or deceived, when they state some of the most certain facts of their experience?"
Eltinge all that makes the picture valuable to him." Ida's cheeks began to burn, for the artist's words suggested a powerful temptation that; in accordance with her impetuous nature, came in the form of an impulse rather than an insidious and lurking thought. The impulse was to accept of the opportunities he pressed upon her, and, if possible, win him away from Jennie Burton.
But poor Ida, when left alone, buried her face in her hands and sobbed, "I've wounded HIS feelings, I've given way to my old passionate anger, I've spoken to mother as a daughter never should. What will ever become of faulty Ida Mayhew? The worm-eaten emblem is true of me still." Then, as if whispered to her by some good angel, the words Mr. Eltinge had spoken recurred to her.
Perhaps it will I hope so. I feel that I know so little about myself and everything else that I can never be sure of anything again. Mr. Eltinge, I have been so unfortunate as to give my whole heart's love to a man who despises me. At first he seemed somewhat attracted, but he soon discovered how imperfect and ignorant I was, and coldly withdrew.
"Now, isn't that just like the devil's work!" exclaimed Mr. Eltinge. "It was our imperfection and wickedness that brought Christ to our rescue, and yet you have been made to believe that your chief claim upon our Divine Friend is a hopeless barrier against you!" "Mr.
Would it be possible, in painting her likeness for Mr. Eltinge, to make her face so noble, womanly, and pure, that she would recognize my present estimate of her character, and so forgive me in very truth?" The care and earnestness with which he filled in the outlines of his sketch proved how zealously he would make the effort.
The gate stood hospitably open, and she drove in under the shade of an enormous silver poplar, whose leaves fluttered in the breathless summer air, as if each one possessed a separate life of its own. As she drew near to the house she saw old Mr. Eltinge coming from his garden to greet her. "I had about given you up," he said, "and so you are doubly welcome.
Here Ida shook her head in protest against Van Berg being classed with Sibley, and at the same time could not forbear the glimmer of a smile at the old man's homely imagery. "Well, according to my creed," continued Mr. Eltinge, "'while there's life there's hope, so I lifted up the poor, prostrate little tree, and tied it to a stout stake.
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