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Michael Paluszek and Stephanie Thomas
MATLAB Machine Learning
Michael Paluszek
New Jersey, USA
Stephanie Thomas
New Jersey, USA
Any source code or other supplementary materials referenced by the author in this text are available to
readers at www.apress.com . For detailed information about how to locate your book’s source code,
go to www.apress.com/source-code/mycopy . Readers can also access source code at
SpringerLink in the Supplementary Material section for each chapter.
ISBN 978-1-4842-2249-2 e-ISBN 978-1-4842-2250-8
DOI 10.1007/978-1-4842-2250-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016963347
© Michael Paluszek, Stephanie Thomas 2017
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For Marilyn and Matt.
Introduction
Machine learning is becoming important in every discipline. It is used in engineering for autonomous cars.
It is used in finance for predicting the stock market. Medical professionals use it for diagnoses. While
many excellent packages are available from commercial sources and open-source repositories, it is
valuable to understand how these algorithms work. Writing your own algorithms is valuable both because
it gives you insight into the commercial and open-source packages and also because it gives you the
background to write your own custom Machine Learning software specialized for your application.
MATLAB ®; had its origins for that very reason. Scientists who needed to do operations on matrices
used numerical software written in FORTRAN. At the time, using computer languages required the user to
go through the write-compile-link-execute process that was time consuming and error prone. MATLAB
presented the user with a scripting language that allowed the user to solve many problems with a few
lines of a script that executed instantaneously. MATLAB has built-in visualization tools that helped the
user better understand the results. Writing MATLAB was a lot more productive and fun than writing
FORTRAN.
The goal of MATLAB Machine Learning is to help all users harness the power of MATLAB to do a
wide range of learning problems. This book has two parts. The first part, Chapters 1 – 3 , provides
background on machine learning including learning control that is not often associated with machine
intelligence. We coin the term “autonomous learning” to embrace all of these disciplines.
The second part of the book, Chapters 4 – 12 , shows complete MATLAB machine learning
applications. Chapters 4 – 6 introduce the MATLAB features that make it easy to implement machine
learning. The remaining chapters give examples. Each chapter provides the technical background for the
topic and ideas on how you can implement the learning algorithm. Each example is implemented in a
MATLAB script supported by a number of MATLAB functions.
The book has something for everyone interested in machine learning. It also has material that will
allow people with interest in other technology areas to see how machine learning, and MATLAB, can
help them solve problems in their areas of expertise.
Contents
Part I Introduction to Machine Learning
Chapter 1: An Overview of Machine Learning
1.1 Introduction
1.2 Elements of Machine Learning
1.2.1 Data
1.2.2 Models
1.2.3 Training
1.2.3.1 Supervised Learning
1.2.3.2 Unsupervised Learning
1.2.3.3 Semisupervised Learning
1.2.3.4 OnlineLearning
1.3 The Learning Machine
1.4 Taxonomy of Machine Learning
1.5 Autonomous Learning Methods
1.5.1 Regression
1.5.2 NeuralNets
1.5.3 Support Vector Machines
1.5.4 Decision Trees
1.5.5 Expert System
References
Chapter 2: The History of Autonomous Learning
2.1 Introduction
2.2 Artificial Intelligence
2.3 Learning Control
2.4 Machine Learning
2.5 The Future
References
Chapter 3: Software for Machine Learning
3.1 Autonomous Learning Software
3.2 Commercial MATLAB Software
3.2.1 MathWorks Products
3.2.1.1 Statistics and Machine Learning Toolbox
3.2.1.2 Neural Network Toolbox
3.2.1.3 Computer Vision System Toolbox
3.2.1.4 System Identification Toolbox
3.2.2 Princeton Satellite Systems Products
3.2.2.1 Core Control Toolbox
3.2.2.2 Target Tracking
3.3 MATLAB Open-Source Resources
3.3.1 DeepLearn Toolbox
3.3.2 Deep Neural Network
3.3.3 MatConvNet
3.4 Products for Machine Learning
3.4.1 R
3.4.2 scikit-learn
3.4.3 LIBSVM
3.5 Products for Optimization
3.5.1 LOQO
3.5.2 SNOPT
3.5.3 GLPK
3.5.4 CVX
3.5.5 SeDuMi
3.5.6 YALMIP
References
Part II MATLAB Recipes for Machine Learning
Chapter 4: Representation of Data for Machine Learning in MATLAB
4.1 Introduction to MATLAB Data Types
4.1.1 Matrices
4.1.2 CellArrays
4.1.3 Data Structures
4.1.4 Numerics
4.1.5 Images
4.1.6 Datastore
4.1.7 Tall Arrays
4.1.8 Sparse Matrices
4.1.9 Tables andCategoricals
4.1.10 Large MAT-Files
4.2 Initializing a Data Structure Using Parameters
4.2.1 Problem
4.2.2 Solution
4.2.3 How It Works
4.3 Performing mapreduce on an Image Datastore
4.3.1 Problem
4.3.2 Solution
4.3.3 How It Works
4.4 Creating a Table fromaFile
Summary
Chapter 5: MATLAB Graphics
5.1 Two-Dimensional Line Plots
5.1.1 Problem
5.1.2 Solution
5.1.3 How It Works
5.2 General 2D Graphics
5.2.1 Problem
5.2.2 Solution
5.2.3 How It Works
5.3 Custom 2D Diagrams
5.3.1 Problem
5.3.2 Solution
5.3.3 How It Works
5.4 Three-Dimensional Box
5.4.1 Problem
5.4.2 Solution
5.4.3 How It Works
5.5 Draw a 3D Object with a Texture
5.5.1 Problem
5.5.2 Solution
5.5.3 How It Works
5.6 General 3D Graphics
5.6.1 Problem
5.6.2 Solution
5.6.3 How It Works
5.7 Building a Graphical User Interface
5.7.1 Problem
5.7.2 Solution
5.7.3 How It Works
Summary
Chapter 6: Machine Learning Examples in MATLAB
6.1 Introduction
6.2 Machine Learning
6.2.1 Neural Networks
6.2.2 Face Recognition
6.2.3 Data Classification
6.3 Control
6.3.1 Kalman Filters
6.3.2 Adaptive Control
6.4 Artificial Intelligence
6.4.1 Autonomous Driving and Target Tracking
Chapter 7: Face Recognition with Deep Learning
7.1 Obtain DataOnline: For Training a Neural Network
7.1.1 Problem
7.1.2 Solution
7.1.3 How It Works
7.2 Generating Data for Training a Neural Net
7.2.1 Problem
7.2.2 Solution
7.2.3 How It Works
7.3 Convolution
7.3.1 Problem
7.3.2 Solution
7.3.3 How It Works
7.4 Convolution Layer
7.4.1 Problem
7.4.2 Solution
7.4.3 How It Works
7.5 Pooling
7.5.1 Problem
7.5.2 Solution
7.5.3 How It Works
7.6 Fully Connected Layer
7.6.1 Problem
7.6.2 Solution
7.6.3 How It Works
7.7 Determining the Probability
7.7.1 Problem
7.7.2 Solution
7.7.3 How It Works
7.8 Test the NeuralNetwork
7.8.1 Problem
7.8.2 Solution
7.8.3 How It Works
7.9 Recognizing an Image
7.9.1 Problem
7.9.2 Solution
7.9.3 How It Works
Summary
Reference
Chapter 8: Data Classification
8.1 Generate Classification Test Data
8.1.1 Problem
8.1.2 Solution
8.1.3 How It Works
8.2 Drawing Decision Trees
8.2.1 Problem
8.2.2 Solution
8.2.3 How It Works
8.3 Decision Tree Implementation
8.3.1 Problem
8.3.2 Solution
8.3.3 How It Works
8.4 Implementing a Decision Tree
8.4.1 Problem
8.4.2 Solution
8.4.3 How It Works
8.5 Creating a Hand-Made Decision Tree
8.5.1 Problem
8.5.2 Solution
8.5.3 How It Works
8.6 Training and Testing the Decision Tree
8.6.1 Problem
8.6.2 Solution
8.6.3 How It Works
Summary
Reference
Chapter 9: Classification of Numbers Using Neural Networks
9.1 Generate Test Images with Defects
9.1.1 Problem
9.1.2 Solution
9.1.3 How It Works
9.2 Create the Neural Net Tool
9.2.1 Problem
9.2.2 Solution
9.2.3 How It Works
9.3 Train a Network with One Output Node
9.3.1 Problem
9.3.2 Solution
9.3.3 How It Works
9.4 Testing the Neural Network
9.4.1 Problem
9.4.2 Solution
9.4.3 How It Works
9.5 Train a Network with Multiple Output Nodes
9.5.1 Problem
9.5.2 Solution
9.5.3 How It Works
Summary
References
Chapter 10: Kalman Filters
10.1 A State Estimator
10.1.1 Problem
10.1.2 Solution
10.1.3 How It Works
10.1.4 Conventional Kalman Filter
10.2 Using the Unscented Kalman Filter for State Estimation
10.2.1 Problem
10.2.2 Solution
10.2.3 How It Works
10.3 Using the UKF for Parameter Estimation
10.3.1 Problem
10.3.2 Solution
10.3.3 How It Works
Summary
References
Chapter 11: Adaptive Control
11.1 Self-Tuning: Finding the Frequency of an Oscillator
11.1.1 Problem
11.1.2 Solution
11.1.3 How It Works
11.2 Model Reference Adaptive Control
11.2.1 Generating a Square Wave Input
11.2.1.1 Problem
11.2.1.2 Solution
11.2.1.3 How It Works
11.2.2 Implement Model Reference Adaptive Control
11.2.2.1 Problem
11.2.2.2 Solution
11.2.2.3 How It Works
11.2.3 Demonstrate MRAC for a Rotor
11.2.3.1 Problem
11.2.3.2 Solution
11.2.3.3 How It Works
11.3 Longitudinal Control of an Aircraft
11.3.1 Write the Differential Equations for the Longitudinal Motion of an Aircraft
11.3.1.1 Problem
11.3.1.2 Solution
11.3.1.3 How It Works
11.3.2 Numerically Finding Equilibrium
11.3.2.1 Problem
11.3.2.2 Solution
11.3.2.3 How It Works
11.3.3 Numerical Simulation of the Aircraft
11.3.3.1 Problem
11.3.3.2 Solution
11.3.3.3 How It Works
11.3.4 Find a Limiting and Scaling function for a Neural Net
11.3.4.1 Problem
11.3.4.2 Solution
11.3.4.3 How It Works
11.3.5 Find a Neural Net for the Learning Control
11.3.5.1 Problem
11.3.5.2 Solution
11.3.5.3 How It Works
11.3.6 Enumerate All Sets of Inputs
11.3.6.1 Problem
11.3.6.2 Solution
11.3.6.3 How It Works
11.3.7 Write a General Neural Net Function
11.3.7.1 Problem
11.3.7.2 Solution
11.3.7.3 How It Works
11.3.8 Implement PID Control
11.3.8.1 Problem
11.3.8.2 Solution
11.3.8.3 How It Works
11.3.9 Demonstrate PID control of Pitch for the Aircraft
11.3.9.1 Problem
11.3.9.2 Solution
11.3.9.3 How It Works
11.3.10 Create the Neural Net for the Pitch Dynamics
11.3.10.1 Problem
11.3.10.2 Solution
11.3.10.3 How It Works
11.3.11 Demonstrate the Controller in a Nonlinear Simulation
11.3.11.1 Problem
11.3.11.2 Solution
11.3.11.3 How It Works
11.4 Ship Steering: Implement Gain Scheduling for Steering Control of a Ship
11.4.1 Problem
11.4.2 Solution
11.4.3 How It Works
Summary
References
Chapter 12: Autonomous Driving
12.1 Modeling the Automobile Radar
12.1.1 Problem
12.1.2 How It Works
12.1.3 Solution
12.2 Automobile Autonomous Passing Control
12.2.1 Problem
12.2.2 Solution
12.2.3 How It Works
12.3 Automobile Dynamics
12.3.1 Problem
12.3.2 How It Works
12.3.3 Solution
12.4 Automobile Simulation and the Kalman Filter
12.4.1 Problem
12.4.2 Solution
12.4.3 How It Works
12.5 Perform MHT on the Radar Data
12.5.1 Problem
12.5.2 Solution
12.5.3 How It Works
12.5.4 Hypothesis Formation
12.5.4.1 Problem
12.5.4.2 Solution
12.5.4.3 How It Works
12.5.5 Track Pruning
12.5.5.1 Problem
12.5.5.2 Solution
12.5.5.3 How It Works
12.5.5.4 Simulation
Summary
References
Index
Contents at a Glance
About the Authors
About the Technical Reviewer
Introduction
Part I Introduction to Machine Learning
Chapter 1: An Overview of Machine Learning
Chapter 2: The History of Autonomous Learning
Chapter 3: Software for Machine Learning
Part II MATLAB Recipes for Machine Learning
Chapter 4: Representation of Data for Machine Learning in MATLAB
Chapter 5: MATLAB Graphics
Chapter 6: Machine Learning Examples in MATLAB
Chapter 7: Face Recognition with Deep Learning
Chapter 8: Data Classification
Chapter 9: Classification of Numbers Using Neural Networks
Chapter 10: Kalman Filters
Chapter 11: Adaptive Control
Chapter 12: Autonomous Driving
Index
About the Authors and About the Technical Reviewer
About the Authors
Michael Paluszek
is president of Princeton Satellite Systems, Inc. (PSS) in Plainsboro, New
Jersey. Mr. Paluszek founded PSS in 1992 to provide aerospace consulting
services. He used MATLAB to develop the control system and simulation for
the Indostar-1 geosynchronous communications satellite, resulting in the launch
of Princeton Satellite Systems’ first commercial MATLAB toolbox, the
Spacecraft Control Toolbox, in 1995. Since then he has developed toolboxes
and software packages for aircraft, submarines, robotics, and nuclear fusion
propulsion, resulting in Princeton Satellite Systems’ current extensive product
line. He is currently leading a U.S. Army research contract for precision
attitude control of small satellites and working with the Princeton Plasma Physics Laboratory on a
compact nuclear fusion reactor for energy generation and space propulsion.
Prior to founding PSS, Mr. Paluszek was an engineer at GE Astro Space in East Windsor, NJ. At GE
he designed the Global Geospace Science Polar despun platform control system and led the design of the
GPS IIR attitude control system, the Inmarsat-3 attitude control systems, and the Mars Observer Delta-V
control system, leveraging MATLAB for control design. Mr. Paluszek also worked on the attitude
determination system for the DMSP meteorological satellites. Mr. Paluszek flew communication satellites
on more than 12 satellite launches, including the GSTAR III recovery, the first transfer of a satellite to an
operational orbit using electric thrusters. At Draper Laboratory Mr. Paluszek worked on the Space
Shuttle, Space Station, and submarine navigation. His Space Station work included design of control
moment gyro-based systems for attitude control.
Mr. Paluszek received his bachelor’s degree in electrical engineering and master’s and engineer’s
degrees in aeronautics and astronautics from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He is the author of
numerous papers and has over a dozen U.S. patents. Mr. Paluszek is the coauthor of “MATLAB Recipes”
published by Apress.
Stephanie Thomas
is vice president of Princeton Satellite Systems, Inc. in Plainsboro, New
Jersey. She received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in aeronautics and
astronautics from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1999 and 2001,
respectively. Ms. Thomas was introduced to PSS’ Spacecraft Control Toolbox
for MATLAB during a summer internship in 1996 and has been using MATLAB
for aerospace analysis ever since. In her nearly 20 years of MATLAB
experience, she has developed many software tools including the Solar Sail
Module for the Spacecraft Control Toolbox; a proximity satellite operations
toolbox for the Air Force; collision monitoring Simulink blocks for the Prisma
satellite mission; and launch vehicle analysis tools in MATLAB and Java. She
has developed novel methods for space situation assessment such as a numeric
approach to assessing the general rendezvous problem between any two satellites implemented in both
MATLAB and C++. Ms. Thomas has contributed to PSS’ Attitude and Orbit Control textbook, featuring
examples using the Spacecraft Control Toolbox (SCT), and has written many software user guides. She
has conducted SCT training for engineers from diverse locales such as Australia, Canada, Brazil, and
Thailand and has performed MATLAB consulting for NASA, the Air Force, and the European Space
Agency. Ms. Thomas is the coauthor of MATLAB Recipes published by Apress. In 2016, Ms. Thomas was
named a NASA NIAC Fellow for the project “Fusion-Enabled Pluto Orbiter and Lander.”
About the Technical Reviewer
Jonah Lissner
is a Research Scientist advancing PhD and DSc programs, scholarships, applied projects and academic
journal publications in Theoretical Physics, Power Engineering, Complex Systems, Metamaterials,
Geophysics, and Computation Theory. He has strong cognitive ability in empiricism and scientific reason
for the purpose of hypothesis building, theory learning, mathematical and axiomatic modeling and testing
for abstract problem-solving. His Dissertations, Research Publications and Projects, CV, Journals, Blog,
Novels, System are listed at http://Lissnerresearch.weebly.com .
Joseph Mueller, Dr.
specializes in control systems and trajectory optimization. For his doctoral
thesis, he developed optimal ascent trajectories for stratospheric airships. His
active research interests include robust optimal control, adaptive control,
applied optimization and planning for decision support systems, and intelligent
systems to enable autonomous operations of robotic vehicles.
Prior to joining SIFT in early 2014, Dr. Mueller worked at Princeton
Satellite Systems for 13 years. In that time, he served as the principal
investigator for eight Small Business Innovative Research contracts for NASA,
Air Force, Navy and MDA. He has developed algorithms for optimal guidance
and control of both formation flying spacecraft and high altitude airships, and
developed a course of action planning tool for DoD communication satellites.
In support of a research study for NASA Goddard Space Flight Center in 2005, Dr. Mueller
developed the Formation Flying Toolbox for Matlab, a commercial product that is now used at NASA,
ESA, and several universities and aerospace companies around the world.
In 2006, Dr. Mueller developed the safe orbit guidance mode algorithms and software for the Swedish
Prisma mission, which has successfully flown a 2-spacecraft formation flying mission since it launch in
2010.
Dr. Mueller also serves as an adjunct professor in the Aerospace Engineering & Mechanics
Department at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities campus.
Derek Surka
has over 20 years of professional experience in the aerospace field, specializing in space situational
awareness, guidance, navigation, and control, distributed system autonomy, and formation flying. Mr.
Surka has applied his expertise in astrodynamics, data fusion, estimation and control systems, and
software development to over 20 satellites and payloads for a variety of military, civil, and commercial
space customers. Mr. Surka is an active runner and triathlete and is a former National Mixed Curling
Champion.
Part I
Introduction to Machine Learning
© Michael Paluszek, Stephanie Thomas 2017
Michael Paluszek and Stephanie Thomas, MATLAB Machine Learning, DOI 10.1007/978-1-4842-2250-8_1
1. An Overview of Machine Learning
Michael Paluszek1 and Stephanie Thomas1
(1) New Jersey, USA
1.1 Introduction
Machine learning is a field in computer science where existing data are used to predict, or respond to,
future data. It is closely related to the fields of pattern recognition, computational statistics, and artificial
intelligence. Machine learning is important in areas like facial recognition, spam filtering, and others
where it is not feasible, or even possible, to write algorithms to perform a task.
For example, early attempts at spam filtering had the user write rules to determine what was spam.
Your success depended on your ability to correctly identify the attributes of the message that would
categorize an email as spam, such as a sender address or subject keyword, and the time you were willing
to spend to tweak your rules. This was only moderately successful as spam generators had little difficulty
anticipating people’s rules. Modern systems use machine learning techniques with much greater success.
Most of us are now familiar with the concept of simply marking a given message as “spam” or “not
spam,” and we take for granted that the email system can quickly learn which features of these emails
identify them as spam and prevent them from appearing in our inbox. This could now be any combination
of IP or email addresses and keywords in the subject or body of the email, with a variety of matching
criteria. Note how the machine learning in this example is data-driven, autonomous, and continuously
updating itself as you receive email and flag it.
In a more general sense, what does machine learning mean? Machine learning can mean using
machines (computers and software) to gain meaning from data. It can also mean giving machines the
ability to learn from their environment. Machines have been used to assist humans for thousands of years.
Consider a simple lever, which can be fashioned using a rock and a length of wood, or the inclined plane.
Both of these machines perform useful work and assist people, but neither has the ability to learn. Both
are limited by how they are built. Once built, they cannot adapt to changing needs without human
interaction. Figure 1.1 shows early machines that do not learn.
Figure 1.1 Simple machines that do not have the capability to learn.
Both of these machines do useful work and amplify the capabilities of people. The knowledge is inherent
in their parameters, which are just the dimensions. The function of the inclined plane is determined by its
length and height. The function of the lever is determined by the two lengths and the height. The
dimensions are chosen by the designer, essentially building in the designer’s knowledge.
Machine learning involves memory that can be changed while the machine operates. In the case of the
two simple machines described above, knowledge is implanted in them by their design. In a sense they
embody the ideas of the builder; thus, they are a form of fixed memory. Learning versions of these
machines would automatically change the dimensions after evaluating how well the machines were
working. As the loads moved or changed, the machines would adapt. A modern crane is an example of a
machine that adapts to changing loads, albeit at the direction of a human being. The length of the crane can
be changed depending on the needs of the operator.
In the context of the software we will be writing in this book, machine learning refers to the process
by which an algorithm converts the input data into parameters it can use when interpreting future data.
Many of the processes used to mechanize this learning derive from optimization techniques and in turn are
related to the classic field of automatic control. In the remainder of this chapter we will introduce the
nomenclature and taxonomy of machine learning systems.
1.2 Elements of Machine Learning
This section introduces key nomenclature for the field of machine learning.
1.2.1 Data
All learning methods are data driven. Sets of data are used to train the system. These sets may be
collected by humans and used for training. The sets may be very large. Control systems may collect data
from sensors as the systems operate and use that to identify parameters—or train the system.
■ Note When collecting data from training, one must be careful to ensure that the time variation of the
system is understood. If the structure of a system changes with time, it may be necessary to discard old
data before training the system. In automatic control this is sometimes called a “forgetting factor” in an
estimator.
1.2.2 Models
Models are often used in learning systems. A model provides a mathematical framework for learning. A
model is human derived and based on human observations and experiences. For example, a model of a
car, seen from above, might be that it is rectangular shaped with dimensions that fit within a standard
parking spot. Models are usually thought of as human derived and providing a framework for machine
learning. However, some forms of machine learning develop their own models without a human-derived
structure.
1.2.3 Training
A system that maps an input to an output needs training to do this in a useful way. Just as people need to be
trained to perform tasks, machine learning systems need to be trained. Training is accomplished by giving
the system an input and the corresponding output and modifying the structure (models or data) in the
learning machine so that mapping is learned. In some ways this is like curve fitting or regression. If we
have enough training pairs, then the system should be able to produce correct outputs when new inputs are
introduced. For example, if we give a face recognition system thousands of cat images and tell it that
those are cats, we hope that when it is given new cat images, it will also recognize them as cats. Problems
can arise when you don’t give it enough training sets or the training data are not sufficiently diverse, that
is, do not represent the full range of cats in this example.
1.2.3.1 Supervised Learning
Supervised learning means that specific training sets of data are applied to the system. The learning is
supervised in that the “training sets” are human derived. It does not necessarily mean that humans are
actively validating the results. The process of classifying the system’s outputs for a given set of inputs is
called labeling. That is, you explicitly say which results are correct or which outputs are expected for
each set of inputs.
The process of generating training sets can be time consuming. Great care must be taken to ensure that
the training sets will provide sufficient training so that when real-world data are collected the system will
produce correct results. They must cover the full range of expected inputs and desired outputs. The
training is followed by test sets to validate the results. If the results aren’t good, then the test sets are
cycled into the training sets and the process repeated.
A human example would be a ballet dancer trained exclusively in classical ballet technique. If she
were then asked to dance a modern dance, the results might not be as good as required because the dancer
did not have the appropriate training sets; her training sets were not sufficiently diverse.
1.2.3.2 Unsupervised Learning
Unsupervised learning does not utilize training sets. It is often used to discover patterns in data for which
there is no “right” answer. For example, if you used unsupervised learning to train a face identification
system, the system might cluster the data in sets, some of which might be faces. Clustering algorithms are
generally examples of unsupervised learning. The advantage of unsupervised learning is that you can learn
things about the data that you might not know in advance. It is a way of finding hidden structures in data.
1.2.3.3 Semisupervised Learning
With the semisupervised approach, some of the data is in the form of labeled training sets and other data
are not [1]. In fact, typically only a small amount of the input data is labeled while most is not, as the
labeling may be an intensive process requiring a skilled human. The small set of labeled data is leveraged
to interpret the unlabeled data.
1.2.3.4 Online Learning
The system is continually updated with new data [1]. This is called “online” because many of the learning
systems use data collected online. It could also be called “recursive learning.” It can be beneficial to
periodically “batch” process data used up to a given time and then return to the online learning mode. The
spam filtering systems from the introduction utilize online learning.
1.3 The Learning Machine
Figure 1.2 shows the concept of a learning machine. The machine absorbs information from the
environment and adapts. Note that inputs may be separated into those that produce an immediate response
and those that lead to learning. In some cases they are completely separate. For example, in an aircraft a
measurement of altitude is not usually used directly for control. Instead, it is used to help select
parameters for the actual control laws. The data required for learning and regular operation may be the
same, but in some cases separate measurements or data will be needed for learning to take place.
Measurements do not necessarily mean data collected by a sensor such as radar or a camera. It could be
data collected by polls, stock market prices, data in accounting ledgers, or data gathered by any other
means. The machine learning is then the process by which the measurements are transformed into
parameters for future operation.
Figure 1.2 A learning machine that senses the environment and stores data in memory.
Note that the machine produces output in the form of actions. A copy of the actions may be passed to the
learning system so that it can separate the effects of the machine actions from those of the environment.
This is akin to a feedforward control system, which can result in improved performance.
A few examples will clarify the diagram. We will discuss a medical example, a security system, and
spacecraft maneuvering.
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who sat at his side, was listening with the most perfect air of
attention and pleasure, while Arbuthnot stood near, apparently bent
upon losing nothing of the history. He ended the story with some
natural precipitation and rose to go, a trifle of his embarrassment
returning as he found himself once more, as it were, exposed to the
glare of day. He was not quite sure what conventionality demanded
of him in the way of adieus; but when Mrs. Sylvestre relieved him by
extending her hand, nature got the better of him, and he seized it
with ardor.
"I've had a splendid time," he said, blushing. "This is the nicest
reception I've been to yet. The house is so pretty and—and
everything. I was thinking I shouldn't go anywhere else; but I
believe I shall now."
When he shook hands with Arbuthnot he regarded him with
admiration and awe.
"I'm much obliged to you," he said, his vague sense of indebtedness
taking form. "If you ever come to Whippleville I'm sure my father
would like to—to see you."
And he retired with his young relatives, blushing still, and
occasionally treading on their feet, but his modesty, notwithstanding,
bearing with him an inoffensive air of self-respect, which would be
more than likely to last him through the day, and perhaps a little
beyond it.
Mrs. Sylvestre's eyes met Arbuthnot's when he was gone.
"You were very kind to him," she said.
"I am obliged to confess," he replied, "that it was nothing but the
low promptings of vanity which inspired me. It dawned upon me
that he was impressed by my superior ease and elegance, and I
seized the opportunity of exhibiting them."
"You knew just what to say to him," she added.
"That," he replied, "was entirely owing to the fact that I was a boy
myself in the early part of the last century."
"He was an appreciative boy," she said, "and a grateful one; but I
am sure I could not have made him comfortable if you had not been
so kind."
And she once again bestowed upon him the subtle flattery of
appearing to lose herself an instant in reflection upon him.
There were no more callers after this. Later on an unconventional
little dinner was served, during which Mrs. Sylvestre was placed
between Arbuthnot and Tredennis, Planefield loomed up massive
and florid at Bertha's side, and Richard devoted himself with
delightful ardor to discussing French politics with the young woman
who fell to his share.
This young woman, whose attire was perfect and whose manner
was admirable, and who was furthermore endowed with a piquant,
irregular face and a captivating voice, had attracted Tredennis's
attention early in the evening. She had been talking to Richard when
he had seen her first, and she had been talking to Richard at
intervals ever since, and evidently talking very well.
"I don't know your friend," he said to Bertha, after dinner, "and I did
not hear her name when I was presented."
"Then you have hitherto lived in vain," said Bertha, glancing at her.
"That is what Richard would tell you. Her name is Helen Varien."
"It is a very pretty name," remarked Tredennis.
"Ah!" said Bertha. "You certainly might trust her not to have an ugly
one. She has attained that state of finish in the matter of her
appendages which insures her being invariably to be relied on. I
think she must even have invented her relatives—or have ordered
them, giving carte blanche."
She watched her a moment with a smile of interest.
"Do you see how her sleeves fit?" she asked. "It was her sleeves
which first attracted my attention. I saw them at a luncheon in New
York, and they gave me new theories of life. When a woman can
accomplish sleeves like those, society need ask nothing further of
her."
Tredennis glanced down at her own.
"Have you accomplished"—he suggested.
"In moments of rashness and folly," she answered, "I have
occasionally been betrayed into being proud of my sleeves; but now
I realize that the feeling was simply impious."
He waited with grim patience until she had finished, and then turned
his back upon Miss Varien's sleeves.
"Will you tell me about Janey?" he said.
"When last I saw her, which was this morning," she replied, "she was
as well as usual, and so were the others. Now I have no doubt they
are all in bed."
"May I come and see them to-morrow, or the day after?"
"Yes," she answered. "And at anytime. I hope you will come often.
Mrs. Sylvestre will be with me until her house is ready for her, and,
as I said before, I wish you to know her well."
"I shall feel it a great privilege," he responded.
She leaned back a little in her chair, and regarded her with an
expression of interest even greater than she had been aroused to by
the contemplation of Miss Varien's sleeves.
"Have you found out yet," she inquired, "what her greatest charm
is?"
"Is it by any chance a matter of sleeves?" he asked; and he made
the suggestion stolidly.
"No," she answered, "it is not sleeves. One's difficulty is to decide
what it is. A week ago I thought it was her voice. Yesterday I was
sure it was her eyelashes and the soft shadow they make about her
eyes. About an hour ago I was convinced it was her smile, and now
I think it must be her power of fixing her attention upon you. See
how it flatters Mr. Arbuthnot, and how, though he is conscious of his
weakness, he succumbs to it. It will be very pleasant occupation
during the winter to watch his struggles."
"Will he struggle?" said Tredennis, still immovably. "I don't think I
would in his place."
"Oh, no," she answered. "You mustn't struggle."
"I will not," he returned.
She went on with a smile, as if he had spoken in the most
responsive manner possible.
"Mr. Arbuthnot's struggles will not be of the usual order," she
remarked. "He will not be struggling with his emotions, but with his
vanity. He knows that she will not fall in love with him, and he has
no intention of falling in love with her. He knows better—and he
does not like affairs. But he will find that she is able to do things
which will flatter him, and that it will require all his self-control to
refrain from displaying his masculine delight in himself and the good-
fortune which he has the secret anguish of knowing does not
depend upon his merits. And his struggles at a decently composed
demeanor, entirely untinged by weak demonstrations of pleasure or
consciousness of himself, will be a very edifying spectacle."
She turned her glance from Arbuthnot and Mrs. Sylvestre, whom she
had been watching as she spoke, and looked up at Tredennis. She
did so because he had made a rather sudden movement, and placed
himself immediately before her.
"Bertha," he said, "I am going away."
Her Jacqueminot roses had been lying upon her lap. She picked
them up before she answered him.
"You have made too many calls," she said. "You are tired."
"I have not made too many calls," he replied; "but I am tired. I am
tired of this."
"I was afraid you were," she said, and kept her eyes fixed upon the
roses.
"You were very fair to me," he said, "and you gave me warning. I
told you I should not profit by it, and I did not. I don't know what I
expected when I came here to-day, but it was not exactly this. You
are too agile for me; I cannot keep up with you."
"You are not modern," she said. "You must learn to adjust yourself
rapidly to changes of mental attitude."
"No, I am not modern," he returned; "and I am always behindhand.
I do not enjoy myself when you tell me it is a fine day, and that it
was colder yesterday, and will be warmer to-morrow; and I am at a
loss when you analyze Mr. Arbuthnot's struggles with his vanity."
"I am not serious enough," she interrupted. "You would prefer that I
should be more serious."
"It would avail me but little to tell you what I should prefer," he said,
obstinately. "I will tell you a simple thing before I go,—all this counts
for nothing."
She moved slightly.
"All this," she repeated, "counts for nothing."
"For nothing," he repeated. "You cannot change me. I told you that.
You may give me some sharp wounds,—I know you won't spare
those,—and because I am only a man I shall show that I smart
under them; but they will not move me otherwise. Be as frivolous as
you like, mock at everything human if you choose; but don't expect
me to believe you."
She put the flowers to her face and held them there a second.
"The one thing I should warn you against," she said, "would be
against believing me. I don't make the mistake of believing myself."
She put the flowers down.
"You think I am trying to deceive you," she said. "There would have
to be a reason for my doing it. What should you think would be the
reason?"
"So help me God!" he answered, "I don't know."
"Neither do I," she said.
Then she glanced about her over the room,—at Planefield, rather
restively professing to occupy himself with a pretty girl; at Miss
Varien, turned a trifle sidewise in her large chair so that her beautiful
sleeve was displayed to the most perfect advantage, and her
vivacious face was a little uplifted as she spoke to Richard, who
leaned on the high back of her seat; at Arbuthnot, talking to Agnes
Sylvestre, and plainly at no loss of words; at the lights and flowers
and ornamented tables seen through the portières,—and then she
spoke again.
"I tell you," she said, "it is this that is real—this. The other was only
a kind of dream."
She made a sudden movement and sat upright on her chair, as if she
meant to shake herself free from something.
"There was no other," she said. "It wasn't even a dream. There
never was anything but this."
She left her chair and stood up before him, smiling.
"The sky was not blue," she said, "nor the hills purple; there were no
chestnut trees, and no carnations. Let us go and sit with the rest,
and listen to Mr. Arbuthnot and admire Miss Varien's sleeves."
But he stood perfectly still.
"I told you I was going away," he said, "and I am going. To-morrow
I shall come and see the children—unless you tell me that you do
not wish to see me again."
"I shall not tell you that," she returned, "because it would be at once
uncivil and untrue."
"Then I shall come," he said.
"That will be kind of you," she responded, and gave him her hand,
and after he had made his bow over it, and his adieus to the rest of
the company, he left them.
Bertha crossed the room and stood near the fire, putting one foot on
the fender, and shivering a little.
"Are you cold?" asked Miss Varien.
"Yes—no," she answered. "If I did not know better, I should think I
was."
"Allow me," said Miss Varien, "to make the cheerful suggestion that
that sounds quite like malaria."
"Thank you," said Bertha; "that seems plausible, and I don't rebel
against it. It has an air of dealing with glittering generalities, and yet
it seems to decide matters for one. We will call it malaria."
CHAPTER XXII.
The room which Mrs. Sylvestre occupied in her friend's house was a
very pretty one. It had been one of Mrs. Amory's caprices at the
time she had fitted it up, and she had amused herself with it for two
or three months, arranging it at her leisure, reflecting upon it, and
making additions to its charms every day as soon as they suggested
themselves to her.
"It is to be a purely feminine apartment," she had said to Richard
and Arbuthnot. "And I have a sentiment about it. When it is
complete you shall go and stand outside the door and look in, but
nothing would induce me to allow you to cross the threshold."
When this moment had arrived, and they had been admitted to the
private view from the corridor, they had evidently been somewhat
impressed.
"It is very pretty," Mr. Arbuthnot had remarked, with amiable
tolerance; "but I don't approve of it. Its object is plainly to pamper
and foster those tendencies of the feminine temperament which are
most prominent and least desirable. Nothing could be more apparent
than its intention to pander to a taste for luxury and self-indulgence,
combined in the most shameless manner with vanity and lightness of
mind. It will be becoming to the frivolous creatures, and will exalt
and inflate them to that extent that they will spend the greater
portion of their time in it, utterly ignoring the superior opportunities
for cultivating and improving their minds they might enjoy
downstairs on occasions when Richard remains at home, and my
own multifarious duties permit me to drop in. It strikes me as
offering a premium to feminine depravity and crime."
"That expresses it exactly," agreed Richard.
Arbuthnot turned him round.
"Will you," he said, "kindly give your attention to the length and
position of that mirror, and the peculiar advantages to be derived
from the fact that the light falls upon it from that particular point,
and that its effects are softened by the lace draperies and
suggestions of pink and blue? The pink and blue idea is merely of a
piece with all the rest, and is prompted by the artfulness of the
serpent. If it had been all pink the blondes would have suffered, and
if it had been all blue the brunettes would have felt that they were
not at their best; this ineffably wily combination, however, truckles to
either, and intimates that each combines the attractions of both.
Take me away, Richard; it is not for the ingenuous and serious mind
to view such spectacles as these. Take me away,—first, however,
making a mental inventory of the entirely debasing sofas and chairs
and the flagrant and openly sentimental nature of the pictures, all
depicting or insinuating the drivelling imbecility and slavery of man,
—'The Huguenot Lovers,' you observe, 'The Black Brunswicker,' and
others of like nature."
Mrs. Sylvestre had thought the room very pretty indeed when she
had first taken possession of it, and its prettiness and comfort
impressed her anew when, the excitement of the New Year's day at
last at an end, she retired to it for the night.
When she found herself within the closed doors she did not go to
bed at once. Too many impressions had been crowded into the last
ten hours to have left her in an entirely reposeful condition of mind
and body, and, though of too calm a temperament for actual
excitement, she was still not inclined to sleep.
So, having partly undressed and thrown on a loose wrap, she turned
down the light and went to the fire. It was an open wood-fire, and
burned cheerily behind a brass fender; a large rug of white fur was
spread upon the hearth before it; a low, broad sofa, luxurious with
cushions, was drawn up at one side of it, and upon the rug, at the
other, stood a deep easy-chair. It was this chair she took, and,
having taken it, she glanced up at an oval mirror which was among
the ornaments on the opposite wall. In it she saw reflected that
portion of the room which seemed to have arranged itself about her
own graceful figure,—the faint pinks and blues, the flowered
drapery, the puffed and padded furniture, and the hundred and one
entirely feminine devices of ornamentation; and she was faintly
aware that an expression less thoughtful than the one she wore
would have been more in keeping with her surroundings.
"I look too serious to harmonize," she said. "If Bertha were here she
would detect the incongruity and deplore it."
But she was in a thoughtful mood, which was not an uncommon
experience with her, and the faint smile the words gave rise to died
away as she turned to the fire again. What she thought of as she sat
and looked into it, it would have been difficult to tell; but there was
evidence that she was mentally well occupied in the fact that she sat
entirely still and gazed at its flickering flame for nearly half an hour.
She would not have moved then, perhaps, if she had not been
roused from her reverie by a sound at the door,—a low knock, and a
voice speaking to her.
"Agnes!" it said. "Agnes!"
She knew it at once as Bertha's, and rose to reply to the summons
almost as if she had expected or even waited for it. When she
unlocked the door, and opened it, Bertha was standing on the
threshold. She had partly undressed, too. She had laid aside the red
dress, and put on a long white negligée, bordered with white fur;
there was no color about her, and it made her look cold. Perhaps she
was cold, for Agnes thought she seemed to shiver a little.
"May I come in?" she asked. "I know it is very inconsiderate, but I
had a sort of conviction that you would not be asleep."
"I was not thinking of going to sleep yet," said Agnes. "I am glad
you have come."
Bertha entered, and, the door being closed, crossed the room to the
fire. She did not take a chair, but sat down upon the hearth-rug.
"This is very feminine," she said, "and we ought to be in bed; but
the day would not be complete without it."
Then she turned toward Agnes.
"You must have a great deal to think of to-night," she said.
Agnes Sylvestre looked at the fire.
"Yes," she answered, "I have a great deal to think of."
"Are they things you like to think of?"
"Some of them—not all."
"It must be a curious experience," said Bertha, "to find yourself here
again after so many years—with all your life changed for you."
Mrs. Sylvestre did not reply.
"You have not been here," Bertha continued, "since you went away
on your wedding journey. You were nineteen or twenty then,—only a
girl."
"I was young," said Mrs. Sylvestre, "but I was rather mature for my
years. I did not feel as if I was exactly a girl."
Then she added, in a lower voice:
"I had experienced something which had ripened me."
"You mean," said Bertha, "that you knew what love was."
She had not intended to say the words, and their abrupt directness
grated upon her as she spoke; but she could not have avoided
uttering them.
Mrs. Sylvestre paused a moment.
"The experience I passed through," she said, "did not belong to my
age. It was not a girl's feelings. I think it came too soon."
"You had two alternatives to choose from," said Bertha,—"that it
should come too soon or too late."
Mrs. Sylvestre paused again.
"You do not think," she said, "that it ever comes to any one at the
right time?"
Bertha had been sitting with her hands folded about her knee. She
unclasped and clasped them with a sharply vehement movement.
"It is a false thing from beginning to end," she said. "I do not believe
in it."
"Ah," said Mrs. Sylvestre, softly, "I believe it. I wish I did not."
"What is there to be gained by it?" said Bertha; "a feeling that is not
to be reasoned about or controlled; a miserable, feverish emotion
you cannot understand, and can only resent and struggle against
blindly. When you let it conquer you, how can you respect yourself
or the object of it? What do women love men for? Who knows? It is
like madness! All you can say is, 'I love him. He is life or death to
me.' It is so unreasoning—so unreasoning."
She stopped suddenly, as if all at once she became conscious that
her companion was looking at herself instead of at the fire.
"You love a man generally," said Mrs. Sylvestre, in her tenderly
modulated voice,—"at least I have thought so,—because he is the
one human creature who is capable of causing you the greatest
amount of suffering. I don't know of any other reason, and I have
thought of it a great deal."
"It is a good reason," said Bertha,—"a good reason."
Then she laughed.
"This is just a little tragic, isn't it?" she said. "What a delightfully
emotional condition we must be in to have reached tragedy in less
than five minutes, and entirely without intention! I did not come to
be tragic; I came to be analytical. I want you to tell me carefully
how we strike you."
"We?" said Mrs. Sylvestre.
Bertha touched herself on the breast.
"We," she said,—"I, Richard, Laurence Arbuthnot, Colonel Tredennis,
Senator Planefield, the two hundred men callers,—Washington, in
short. How does Washington strike you, now that you have come to
it again?"
"Won't you give me two weeks to reflect upon it?" said Agnes.
"No. I want impressions, not reflections. Is it all very much
changed?"
"I am very much changed," was the reply.
"And we?" said Bertha. "Suppose—suppose you begin with Laurence
Arbuthnot."
"I do not think I could. He is not one of the persons I have
remembered."
"Agnes," said Bertha, "only wait with patience for one of those
occasions when you feel it necessary to efface him, and then tell him
that, in exactly that tone of voice, and he will in that instant secretly
atone for the crimes of a lifetime. He won't wince, and he will
probably reply in the most brilliant and impersonal manner; but,
figuratively speaking, you will have reduced him to powder and cast
him to the breeze."
"We shall not be sufficiently intimate to render such a thing
possible," said Mrs. Sylvestre. "One must be intimate with a man to
be angry enough with him to wish to avenge one's self."
Bertha smiled.
"You don't like him," she said. "Poor Larry!"
"On the contrary," was her friend's reply. "But it would not occur to
me to 'begin with him,' as you suggested just now."
"With whom, then," said Bertha, "would you begin."
Her guest gave a moment to reflection, during which Bertha
regarded her intently.
"If I were going to begin at all," she said, rather slowly, "I think it
would be with Colonel Tredennis."
There was a moment of silence, and then Bertha spoke, in a
somewhat cold and rigid voice,
"What do you like about him?" she asked.
"I think I like everything."
"If you were any one else," said Bertha, "I should say that you
simply like his size. I think that is generally it. Women invariably fall
victims to men who are big and a little lumbering. They like to
persuade themselves that they are overawed and subjected. I never
understood it myself. Big men never pleased me very much—they
are so apt to tread on you."
"I like his eyes," said Agnes, apparently reflecting aloud; "they are
very kind. And I like his voice"—
"It is rather too deep," remarked Bertha, "and sometimes I am a
little afraid it will degenerate into a growl, though I have never
heard it do so yet."
Mrs. Sylvestre went on:
"When he bends his head a little and looks down at you as you talk,"
she said, "he is very nice. He is really thinking of you and regarding
you seriously. I do not think he is given to trifling."
"No," returned Bertha; "I do not think he is given to anything special
but being massive. That is what you are thinking,—that he is
massive."
"There is no denying," said her friend, "that that is one of the things
I like."
"Ah!" said Bertha, "you find the rest of us very flippant and trivial.
That is how we strike you!"
A fatigued little sigh escaped her lips.
"After all," she said, "it is true. And we have obliged ourselves to be
trivial for so long that we are incapable of seriousness. Sometimes—
generally toward Lent, after I have been out a great deal—I wonder
if the other would not be interesting for a change; but, at the same
time, I know I could not be serious if I tried."
"Your seriousness will be deeper," said Mrs. Sylvestre, "when you
accomplish it without trying."
She was serious herself as she spoke, but her seriousness was
extremely gentle. She looked at Bertha even tenderly, and her clear
eyes were very expressive.
"We are both changed since we met here last," she said, with simple
directness, "and it is only natural that what we have lived through
should have affected us differently. We are of very different
temperaments. You were always more vivid and intense than I, and
suffering—if you had suffered"—
Her soft voice faltered a little, and she paused. Bertha turned and
looked her unflinchingly in the face.
"I—have not suffered," she said.
Agnes spoke as simply as before.
"I have," she said.
Bertha turned sharply away.
"I was afraid so," was her response.
"If we are to be as near to each other as I hope," Agnes continued,
"it would be useless for me to try to conceal from you the one thing
which has made me what I am. The effort to hide it would always
stand between us and our confidence in each other. It is much
simpler to let you know the truth."
She put her hands up to her face an instant, and Bertha broke the
silence with a curiously incisive question.
"Was he very cruel to you?"
Agnes withdrew her hands, and if her shadow of a smile had not
been so infinitely sad, it would have been bitter.
"He could not help it," she said; "and when I was calm enough to
reason I knew he was not to blame for my imagination. It was all
over in a few months, and he would have been quite content to bear
what followed philosophically. When the worst came to the worst, he
told me that he had known it could not last, because such things
never did; but that he had also known that, even after the inevitable
termination, I should always please him and display good taste. He
had lived through so much, and I had known so little. I only spoke
openly to him once,—one awful day, and after that I scarcely know
what happened to me for months. I asked him to let me go away
alone, and I went to the sea-side. Since then the sound of the sea
has been a terror to me, and yet there are times when I long to hear
it. I used to tell myself that, on one of those days when I sat on the
sand and looked at the sea, I died, and that I have never really lived
since. Something happened to me—I don't know what. It was one
brilliant morning, when the sun beat on the blue water and the
white sand, and everything was a dazzling glare. I sat on the beach
for hours without moving, and when I got up and walked away I
remember hearing myself saying, 'I have left you behind,—I have
left you behind,—I shall never see you again.' I was ill for several
days afterward, and when I recovered I seemed to have become a
new creature. When my husband came I was able to meet him so
calmly that I think it was even a kind of shock to him."
"And that was the end?" said Bertha.
"Yes, that was the end—for me."
"And for him?"
"Once or twice afterward it interested him to try experiments with
me, and when they failed he was not pleased."
"Were you never afraid," said Bertha, "that they would not fail?"
"No. There is nothing so final as the ending of such a feeling. There
is nothing to come after it, because it has taken everything with it,—
passion, bitterness, sorrow,—even regret. I never wished that it
might return after the day I spoke of. I have thought if, by stretching
forth my hand, I could have brought it all back just as it was at first,
I should not have wished to do it. It had been too much."
"It is a false thing," said Bertha,—"a false thing, and there must
always be some such end to it."
Agnes Sylvestre was silent again, and because of her silence Bertha
repeated her words with feverish eagerness.
"It must always end so," she said.
"You know that—you must know it."
"I am only one person," was the characteristic answer. "And I do not
know. I do not want to know. I only want quiet now. I have learned
enough."
"Agnes," said Bertha, "that is very pathetic."
"Yes," Agnes answered. "I know it is pathetic, when I allow myself to
think of it." And for the first time her voice broke a little, and was all
the sweeter for the break in it. But it was over in a moment, and she
spoke as she had spoken before.
"But I did not mean to be pathetic," she said. "I only wanted to tell
you the entire truth, so that there should be nothing between us,
and nothing to avoid. There can be nothing now. You know of me all
that is past, and you can guess what is to come."
"No, I cannot do that," said Bertha.
Agnes smiled.
"It is very easy," she responded. "I shall have a pretty house, and I
shall amuse myself by buying new or old things for it, and by moving
the furniture. I shall give so much thought to it that after a while it
will be quite celebrated, in a small way, and Miss Jessup will refer to
it as 'unique.' Mrs. Merriam will be with me, and I shall have my
reception day, and perhaps my 'evening,' and I shall see as many of
the charming people who come to Washington as is possible. You
will be very good to me, and come to see me often, and—so I hope
will Mr. Arbuthnot, and Colonel Tredennis"—
"Agnes," interposed Bertha, with an oddly hard manner, "if they do,
one or both of them will fall in love with you."
"If it is either," responded Mrs. Sylvestre, serenely, "I hope it will be
Mr. Arbuthnot, as he would have less difficulty in recovering."
"You think," said Bertha, "that nothing could ever touch you again,—
nothing?"
"Think!" was the response; "my safety lies in the fact that I do not
think of it at all. If I were twenty I might do so, and everything
would be different. Life is very short. It is not long enough to run
risks in. I shall not trifle with what is left to me."
"Oh," cried Bertha, "how calm you are—how calm you are!"
"Yes," she answered, "I am calm now."
But she put her hands up to her face again for an instant, and her
eyelashes were wet when she withdrew them.
"It was a horribly dangerous thing," she said, brokenly. "There were
so many temptations; the temptation to find excitement in avenging
myself on others was strongest of all. I suppose it is the natural
savage impulse. There were times when I longed to be cruel. And
then I began to think—and there seemed so much suffering in life—
and everything seemed so pitiful. And I could not bear the thought
of it." And she ended with the sob of a child.
"It is very womanish to cry," she whispered, "and I did not mean to
do it, but—you look at me so." And she laid her cheek against the
cushioned back of her chair, and, for a little while, was more pathetic
in her silence than she could have been in any words she might have
uttered. It was true that Bertha had looked at her. There were no
tears in her own eyes. Her feeling was one of obstinate resistance to
all emotion in herself; but she did not resent her friend's; on the
contrary, she felt a strange enjoyment of it.
"Don't stop crying because I am here," she said. "I like to see you
do it."
Mrs. Sylvestre recovered herself at once. She sat up, smiling a little.
There were no disfiguring traces of her emotion on her fair face.
"Thank you," she answered; "but I do not like it myself so much,
and I have not done it before for a long time."
It was, perhaps, because Mr. Arbuthnot presented himself as an
entirely safe topic, with no tendency whatever to develop the
sensibilities, that she chose him as the subject of her next remarks.
"I do not see much change in your friend," she observed.
"If you mean Laurence," Bertha replied, "I dare say not. He does not
allow things to happen to him. He knows better."
"And he has done nothing whatever during the last seven years?"
"He has been to a great many parties," said Bertha, "and he has
read a book or so, and sung several songs."
"I hope he has sung them well," was her friend's comment.
"It always depends upon his mood," Bertha returned; "but there
have been times when he has sung them very well indeed."
"It can scarcely have been a great tax to have done it occasionally,"
said Mrs. Sylvestre; "but I should always be rather inclined to think it
was the result of chance, and not effort. Still"—with a sudden
conscientious scruple brought about by her recollection of the fact
that these marks of disapproval had not expressed themselves in her
manner earlier in the day—"still he is very agreeable, one cannot
deny that."
"It is always safe not to attempt to deny it, even if you feel inclined,"
was Bertha's comment, "because, if you do, he will inevitably prove
to you that you were in the wrong before he has done with you."
"He did one thing I rather liked," her companion proceeded. "He was
very nice—in that peculiar, impartial way of his—to a boy"—
"The boy who came with the Bartletts?" Bertha interposed. "I saw
him, and was positively unhappy about him, because I could not
attend to him. Did he take him in hand?" she asked, brightening
visibly. "I knew he would, if he noticed him particularly. It was just
like him to do it."
"I saw him first," Mrs. Sylvestre explained; "but I am afraid I should
not have been equal to the occasion if Mr. Arbuthnot had not
assisted me. It certainly surprised me that he should do it. He knew
the Bartletts, and had met the boy's sister, and in the most
wonderful, yet the most uneffusive and natural, way he utilized his
material until the boy felt himself quite at home, and not out of
place at all. One of the nicest things was the way in which he talked
about Whippleville,—the boy came from Whippleville. He seemed to
give it a kind of interest and importance, and even picturesqueness.
He did not pretend to have been there; but he knew something of
the country, which is pretty, and he was very clever in saying neither
too much nor too little. Of course that was nice."
"Colonel Tredennis could not have done it," said Bertha.
Agnes paused. She felt there was something of truth in the
statement, but she was reluctant to admit it.
"Why not?" she inquired.
"By reason of the very thing which is his attraction for you,—because
he is too massive to be adroit."
Agnes was silent.
"Was it not Colonel Tredennis who went to Virginia when your little
girl was ill?" she asked, in a few moments.
"Yes," was Bertha's response. "He came because Richard was away
and papa was ill."
"It was Janey who told me of it," said Agnes, quietly. "And she made
a very pretty story of it, in her childish way. She said that he carried
her up and down the room when she was tired, and that when her
head ached he helped her not to cry. He must be very gentle. I like
to think of it. It is very picturesque; the idea of that great soldierly
fellow nursing a frail little creature, and making her pain easier to
bear. Do you know, I find myself imagining that I know how he
looked."
Bertha sat perfectly still. She, too, knew how he had looked. But
there was no reason, she told herself, for the sudden horrible
revulsion of feeling which rushed upon her with the remembrance. A
little while before, when Agnes had told her story, there had been a
reason why she should be threatened by her emotions; but now it
was different,—now that there was, so to speak, no pathos in the
air; now that they were merely talking of commonplace, unemotional
things. But she remembered so well; if she could have forced herself
to forget for one instant she might have overcome the passion of
unreasoning anguish which seized her; but it was no use, and as she
made the effort Agnes sat and watched her, a strange questioning
dawning slowly in her eyes.
"He looked—very large"—
She stopped short, and her hands clutched each other hard and
close. A wild thought of getting up and leaving the room came to
her, and then she knew it was too late.
A light flickered up from the wood-fire and fell upon her face as she
slowly turned it to Agnes.
For an instant Agnes simply looked at her, then she uttered a terror-
stricken exclamation.
"Bertha!" she cried.
"Well," said Bertha; "well!" But at her next breath she began to
tremble, and left her place on the hearth and stood up, trembling
still. "I am tired out," she said. "I must go away. I ought not to have
come here."
But Agnes rose and went to her, laying her hand on her arm. She
had grown pale herself, and there was a thrill of almost passionate
feeling in her words when she spoke.
"No," she said. "You were right to come. This is the place for you."
She drew her down upon the sofa and held both her hands.
"Do you think I would let you go now," she said, "until you had told
me everything? Do you think I did not know there was something
you were struggling with? When I told you of my own unhappiness,
it was because I hoped it would help you to speak. If you had not
known that I had suffered you could not have told me. You must tell
me now. What barrier could there be between us,—two women who
have—who have been hurt, and who should know how to be true to
each other?"
Bertha slipped from her grasp and fell upon her knees by the sofa,
covering her face.
"Agnes," she panted, "I never thought of this—I don't know how it
has come about. I never meant to speak. Almost the worst of it all is
that my power over myself is gone, and that it has even come to
this,—that I am speaking when I meant to be silent. Don't look at
me! I don't know what it all means! All my life has been so different
—it is so unlike me—that I say to myself it cannot be true. Perhaps it
is not. I have never believed in such things. I don't think I believe
now; I don't know what it means, I say, or whether it will last, and if
it is not only a sort of illness that I shall get better of. I am trying
with all my strength to believe that, and to get better; but while it
lasts"—
"Go on," said Agnes, in a hushed voice.
Bertha threw out her hands and wrung them, the pretty baubles she
had not removed when she undressed jingling on her wrists.
"It is worse for me than for any one else," she cried. "Worse, worse!
It is not fair. I was not prepared for it. I was so sure it was not true;
I can't understand it. But, whether it is true or not, while it lasts,
Agnes, while it lasts"—And she hid her face again and the bangles
and serpents of silver and gold jingled more merrily than ever.
"You think," said Agnes, "that you will get over it?"
"Get over it!" she cried. "How often do you suppose I have said to
myself that I must get over it? How many thousand times? I must
get over it. Is it a thing to trifle with and be sentimental over? It is a
degradation. I don't spare myself. No one could say to me more than
I say to myself. I cannot spare it, and I must get over it; but I don't
—I don't—I don't. And sometimes the horrible thought comes to me
that it is a thing you can't get over, and it drives me mad, but—
but"—
"But what?" said Agnes.
Her hands dropped away from her face.
"If I tell you this," she said, breathlessly, "you will despise me. I
think I am going to tell it to you that you may despise me. The
torture of it will be a sort of penance. When the thought comes to
me that I may get over it, that it will go out of my life in time, and
be lost forever, then I know that, compared to that, all the rest is
nothing—nothing; and that I could bear it for an eternity, the
anguish and the shame and the bitterness, if only it might not be
taken away."
"Oh!" cried Agnes, "I can believe it! I can believe it!"
"You can believe it?" said Bertha, fiercely. "You? Yes. But I—I
cannot!"
For some minutes after this Agnes did not speak. She sat still and
looked down at Bertha's cowering figure. There came back to her,
with terrible distinctness, times when she herself must have looked
so,—only she had always been alone,—and there mingled with the
deep feeling of the moment a far-away pity for her own helpless
youth and despair.
"Will you tell me," she said, at last, "how it began?"
She was struck, when Bertha lifted her face from its cushions, by the
change which had come upon her. All traces of intense and
passionate feeling were gone; it was as if her weeping had swept
them away, and left only a weariness, which made her look
pathetically young and helpless. As she watched her Agnes
wondered if she had ever looked up at Tredennis with such eyes.
"I think," she said, "that it was long before I knew. If I had not been
so young and so thoughtless I think I should have known that I
began to care for him before he went away the first time. But I was
very young, and he was so quiet. There was one day, when he
brought me some heliotrope, when I wondered why I liked the quiet
things he said; and after he went away I used to wonder, in a sort of
fitful way, what he was doing. And the first time I found myself face
to face with a trouble I thought of him, and wished for him, without
knowing why. I even began a letter to him; but I was too timid to
send it."
"Oh, if you had sent it!" Agnes exclaimed, involuntarily.
"Yes—if I had sent it! But I did not. Perhaps it would not have made
much difference if I had, only when I told him of it"—
"You told him of it?" said Agnes.
"Yes—in Virginia. All the wrong I have done, all the indulgence I
have allowed myself, is the wrong I did and the indulgence I allowed
myself in Virginia. There were days in Virginia when I suppose I was
bad enough"—
"Tell me that afterward," said Agnes. "I want to know how you
reached it."
"I reached it," answered Bertha, "in this way: the thing that was my
first trouble grew until it was too strong for me—or I was too weak
for it. It was my own fault. Perhaps I ought to have known, but I did
not. I don't think that I have let any one but myself suffer for my
mistake. I couldn't do that. When I found out what a mistake it was,
I told myself that it was mine, and that I must abide by it. And in
time I thought I had grown quite hard, and I amused myself, and
said that nothing mattered; and I did not believe in emotion, and
thought I enjoyed living on the surface. I disliked to hear stories of
any strong feeling. I tried to avoid reading them, and I was always
glad when I heard clever worldly speeches made. I liked Laurence
first, because he said such clever, cold-blooded things. He was at his
worst when I first knew him. He had lost all his money, and some
one had been false to him, and he believed nothing."
"I did not know," said Agnes, "that he had a story." And then she
added, a trifle hurriedly, "But it does not matter."
"It mattered to him," said Bertha. "And we all have a story—even
poor Larry—and even I—even I!"
Then she went on again.
"There was one thing," she said, "that I told myself oftener than
anything else, and that was that I was not unhappy. I was always
saying that and giving myself reasons. When my dresses were
becoming, and I went out a great deal, and people seemed to
admire me, I used to say, 'How few women are as happy! How many
things I have to make me happy!' and when a horrible moment of
leisure came, and I could not bear it, I would say, 'How tired I must
be to feel as I do; and what nonsense it is!' The one thing Richard
has liked most in me has been that I have not given way to my
moods, and have always reasoned about them. Ah! Agnes, if I had
been happier I might have given way to them just a little sometimes,
and have been less tired. If I were to die now I know what they
would remember of me: that I laughed a great deal, and made the
house gay."
She went on without tears.
"I think," she said, "that I never felt so sure of myself as I did last
winter,—so sure that I had lived past things and was quite safe. It
was a very gay season, and there were several people here who
amused me and made things seem brilliant and enjoyable. When I
was not going out the parlors were always crowded with clever men
and women; and when I did go out I danced and talked and
interested myself more than I had ever seemed to do before. I shall
never forget the inauguration ball. Laurence and Richard were both
with me, and I danced every dance, and had the most brilliant night.
I don't think one expects to be actually brilliant at an inauguration
ball, but that night I think we were, and when we were going away
we turned to look back, and Laurence said, 'What a night it has
been! We couldn't possibly have had such a night if we had tried. I
wonder if we shall ever have such a night again'; and I said, 'Scores
of them, I haven't a doubt'; but that was the last night of all."
"The last night of all?" repeated Agnes.
"There have been no more nights at all like it, and no more days.
The next night but one the Winter Gardners gave a party, and I was
there. Laurence brought me some roses and heliotrope, and I
carried them; and I remember how the scent of the heliotrope
reminded me of the night I sat and talked to Philip Tredennis by the
fire. It came back all the more strongly because I had heard from
papa of his return. I was not glad that he had come to Washington,
and I did not care to see him. He seemed to belong to a time I
wanted to forget. I did not know he was to be at the Gardners' until
he came in, and I looked up and saw him at the door. You know how
he looks when he comes into a room,—so tall, and strong, and
different from all the rest. Does he look different from all the rest,
Agnes—or is it only that I think so?"
"He is different," said Agnes. "Even I could see that."
"Oh!" said Bertha, despairingly, "I don't know what it is that makes it
so; but sometimes I have thought that, perhaps, when first men
were on earth they were like that,—strong and earnest, and simple
and brave,—never trifling with themselves or others, and always
ready to be tender with those who suffer or are weak. If you only
knew the stories we have heard of his courage and determination
and endurance! I do not think he ever remembers them himself; but
how can the rest of us forget!
"The first thought I had when I saw him was that it was odd that the
mere sight of him should startle me so. And then I watched him
pass through the crowds, and tried to make a paltry satirical
comment to myself upon his size and his grave face. And then,
against my will, I began to wonder what he would do when he saw
me, and if he would see what had happened to me since he had
given me the flowers for my first party; and I wished he had stayed
away—and I began to feel tired—and just then he turned and saw
me."
She paused and sank into a wearied sitting posture, resting her
cheek against the sofa cushion.
"It seems so long ago—so long ago," she said; "and yet it is not one
short year since."
She went on almost monotonously.
"He saw the change in me,—I knew that,—though he did not know
what it meant. I suppose he thought the bad side of me had
developed instead of the good, because the bad had predominated
in the first place."
"He never thought that," Agnes interposed. "Never!"
"Don't you think so?" said Bertha. "Well, it was not my fault if he
didn't. I don't know whether it was natural or not that I should
always make the worst of myself before him; but I always did. I did
not want him to come to the house; but Richard brought him again
and again, until he had been so often that there must have been
some serious reasons if he had stayed away. And then—and then"—
"What then?" said Agnes.
She made a gesture of passionate impatience.
"Oh, I don't know," she said, "I don't know! I began to be restless
and unhappy. I did not care for going out, and I dared not stay at
home. When I was alone I used to sit and think of that first winter,
and compare myself with the Bertha who lived then as if she had
been another creature,—some one I had been fond of, and who had
died in some sad, unexpected way while she was very young. I used
to be angry because I found myself so easily moved,—things
touched me which had never touched me before; and one day, as I
was singing a little German song of farewell,—that poor little,
piteous 'Auf Wiedersehn' we all know,—suddenly my voice broke,
and I gave a helpless sob, and the tears streamed down my cheeks.
It filled me with terror. I have never been a crying woman, and I
have rather disliked people who cried. When I cried I knew that
some terrible change had come upon me, and I hated myself for it. I
told myself I was ill, and I said I would go away; but Richard wished
me to remain. And every day it was worse and worse. And when I
was angry with myself I revenged myself on the person I should
have spared. When I said things of myself which were false he had a
way of looking at me as if he was simply waiting to hear what I
would say next, and I never knew whether he believed me or not,
and I resented that more than all the rest."
She broke off for an instant, and then began again hurriedly.
"Why should I make such a long story of it?" she said. "I could not
tell it all, nor the half of it, if I talked until to-morrow. If I had been
given to sentiments and emotions I could not have deceived myself
so long as I did, that is all. I have known women who have had
experiences and sentiments all their lives, one after another. I used
to know girls, when I was a girl, who were always passing through
some sentimental adventure; but I was not like that, and I never
understood them. But I think it is better to be so than to live
unmoved so long that you feel you are quite safe, and then to
waken up to face the feeling of a lifetime all at once. It is better to
take it by instalments. If I had been more experienced I should have
been safer. But I deceived myself, and called what I suffered by
every name but the right one. I said it was resentment and wounded
vanity and weakness; but it was not—it was not. There was one
person who knew it was not, though he let me call it what I
pleased"—
"He?" said Agnes.
"It was Laurence Arbuthnot who knew. He had been wretched
himself once, and while he laughed at me and talked nonsense, he
cared enough for me to watch me and understand."
"It would never have occurred to me," remarked Agnes, "to say he
did not care for you. I think he cares for you very much."
"Yes, he cares for me," said Bertha, "and I can see now that he was
kinder to me than I knew. He stood between me and many a
miserable moment, and warded off things I could not have warded
off myself. I think he hoped at first that I would get over it. It was
he who helped me to make up my mind to go away. It seemed the
best thing, but it would have been better if I had not gone."
"Better?" Agnes repeated.
"There was a Fate in it," she said. "Everything was against me.
When I said good-by to—to the person I wished to escape from—
though I did not admit to myself then that it was from him I wished
to escape—when I said good-by, I thought it was almost the same
thing as saying good-by forever. I had always told myself that I was
too superficial to be troubled by anything long, and that I could
always forget anything I was determined to put behind me. I had
done it before, and I fancied I could do it then, and that when I
came back in the winter I should have got over my moods, and be
stronger physically, and not be emotional any more. I meant to take
the children and give them every hour of my days, and live out-of-
doors in a simple, natural way, until I was well. I always called it
getting well. But when he came to say good-by—it was very hard. It
was so hard that I was terrified again. He spent the evening with us,
and the hours slipped away—slipped away, and every time the clock
struck my heart beat so fast that, at last, instead of beating, it
seemed only to tremble and make me weak. And at last he got up to
go; and I could not believe that it was true, that he was really going,
until he went out of the door. And then so much seemed to go with
him, and we had only said a few commonplace words—and it was
the last—last time. And it all rushed upon me, and my heart leaped
in my side, and—and I went to him. There was no other way. And, O
Agnes"—
"I know—I know!" said Agnes, brokenly. "But—try not to do that! It
is the worst thing you can do—to cry so."
"He did not know why I came," Bertha said. "I don't know what he
thought. I don't know what I said. He looked pale and startled at
first, and then he took my hand in both his and spoke to me. I have
seen him hold Janey's hand so—as if he could not be gentle enough.
And he said it was always hard to say good-by, and would I
remember—and his voice was quite unsteady—would I remember
that if I should ever need any help he was ready to be called. I had
treated him badly and coldly that very evening, but it was as if he
forgot it. And I forgot, too, and for just one little moment we were
near each other, and there was nothing in our hearts but sadness
and kindness, as if we had been friends who had the right to be sad
at parting. And we said good-by again—and he went away.
"I fought very hard in those next two months, and I was very
determined. I never allowed myself time to think in the daytime. I
played with the children and read to them and walked with them,
and when night came I used to be tired out; but I did not sleep. I
laid awake trying to force my thoughts back, and when morning
broke it seemed as if all my strength was spent. And I did not get
well. And, when it all seemed at the worst, suddenly Janey was
taken ill, and I thought she would die, and I was all alone, and I
sent for papa"—
She broke off with the ghost of a bitter little laugh.
"I have heard a great deal said about fate," she went on. "Perhaps it
was fate; I don't know. I don't care now—it doesn't matter. That
very day papa was ill himself, and Philip Tredennis came to me—
Philip Tredennis!"
"Oh!" cried Agnes, "it was very cruel!"
"Was it cruel?" said Bertha. "It was something. Perhaps it would do
to call it cruel. I had been up with Janey for two or three nights. She
had suffered a great deal for a little creature, and I was worn out
with seeing her pain and not being able to help it. I was expecting
the doctor from Washington, and when she fell asleep at last I went
to the window to listen, so that I might go down and keep the dogs
quiet if he came. It was one of those still, white moonlight nights—
the most beautiful night. After a while I fancied I heard the far-away
hoof-beat of a horse on the road, and I ran down. The dogs knew
me, and seemed to understand I wished them to be quiet when I
spoke to them. As the noise came nearer I went down to the gate. I
was trembling with eagerness and anxiety, and I spoke before I
reached it. I was sure it was Doctor Malcolm; but it was some one
larger and taller, and the figure came out into the moonlight, and I
was looking up at Philip Tredennis!"
Agnes laid her hand on her arm.
"Wait a moment before you go on," she said. "Give yourself time."
"No," said Bertha, hurrying, "I will go on to the end. Agnes, I have
never lied to myself since that minute—never once. Where would
have been the use? I thought he was forty miles away, and there he
stood, and the terror, and joy, and anguish of seeing him swept
everything else away, and I broke down. I don't know what he felt
and thought. There was one strange moment when he stood quite
close to me and touched my shoulder with his strong, kind hand. He
seemed overwhelmed by what I did, and his voice was only a
whisper. There seemed no one in all the world but ourselves, and
when I lifted my face from the gate I knew what all I had suffered
meant. As he talked to me afterward I was saying over to myself, as
if it was a lesson I was learning, 'You are mad with joy just because
this man is near you. All your pain has gone away. Everything is as it
was before, but you don't care—you don't care.' I said that because
I wished to make it sound as wicked as I could. But it was of no use.
I have even thought since then that if he had been a bad man,
thinking of himself, I might have been saved that night by finding it
out. But he was not thinking of himself—only of me. He came, not
for his own sake, but for mine and Janey's. He came to help us and
stand by us and care for us; to do any common, simple service for
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