In A Face Illumined by Edward Payson Roe, Harold Van Berg is an artist attending a concert when he sees a striking young woman in the audience. He thinks her almost perfect face is so beautiful that he would love to paint it. But as he observes her, he finds that she is shallow and flirtatious. He’s disturbed that such beauty is ruined by her demeanor.

He overhears that she and her mother are going to a certain resort for the next few weeks. He decides to take his painting gear and go to the same resort. He wants to see if he can possibly awaken “thought, with womanly character and intelligence” in her.

He attempts his project first of all by expressing silent disapproval, which the girl, Ida, senses immediately. Rankled by his judgment, she determines to get back at him. But she realizes her usual way of handling men won’t work with him.

Then a pretty, sweet, kind teacher named Jenny comes to the resort. Isa sees how Harold, as well as others, respond to Jenny. She hears Jenny’s praises sung. She believes Harold is falling in love with Jenny. In fact, he seems to have forgotten Ida altogether.

Ida realizes her faults, but not knowing how to be any way other than what she is, she’s driven to despair and almost tragedy. Fortunately, a kind older man in a garden points her to One who loves her and can change her.

And Harold is stunned along the way to discover some of his own imperfections. “His confidence in his own sagacity received the severest shock it had ever experienced” (p. 203).

Edward Payson Roe was a Presbyterian pastor in the 1800s who also wrote fiction and horticulture books. I first read and loved He Fell In Love with His Wife by him when a friend mentioned it. I found some of his other books free for the Kindle app, but just got around to this one.

Of course, the language is old-fashioned. Some of the sentences are excessively long. I like to read books from this era partly so as not to lose the ability to.

The plot might seem a little odd in our day. We would notice that someone seems shallow, but I don’t think many of us would set ourselves a mission to try to improve that person n the way Harold did.

But setting all that aside, this ended up being a tender, lovely story.

Some of the quotes I marked:

He was less versed in human nature than art, and did not recognize in the forced and obtrusive gayety the effort to stifle the voice of an aroused conscience  (p. 31, Kindle app). 

Beauty without mind is like salad without dressing (p. 55).

The number of those who rise above their circumstances with a cheery courage are but few (p. 71).

A genuine man, such as she had not seen or at least not recognized before, had stepped out before the gilt and tinsel, and the miserable shams were seen in contrast in their rightful character (p. 106).

What a heaven it would be to look up into the eyes of a man I could trust, and who honored me (p. 120).

What an unknown mystery each life is, even to the lives nearest to it! (p. 150).

Mr. Mayhew was a tired, busy man, who visited at his own home rather than lived there (p. 154).

Was she not seeking to make her life an altar on which she laid as a gift to others the best treasures of her woman’s soul? (p. 160).

It is a fearful thing to permit a child to grow up ignorant of God, and of the sacred principles of duty which should be inwrought in the conscience, and enforced by the most vital considerations of well-being, both for this world and the world to come (p. 180).

When the storm was loudest and most terrible, his hand was on the helm, and now I am entering the quiet harbor (p. 194).

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! (p. 210).

The hopeless fools are those who never find themselves out (p. 245).

Roe says in his preface that seeing a “beautiful but discordant face” at a concert some years earlier became this story, though he doesn’t know that person’s fate. Also, “The old garden, and the aged man who grew young within it, are not creations, but sacred memories.” He writes his earnest wish is “That the book may tend to ennoble other faces than that of Ida.”