After the Storm

Yes, Irene had looked for this--looked for it daily for now more

than a year. Still it came upon her with a shock that sent a

strange, wild shudder through all her being. A divorce! She was less

prepared for it than she had ever been.

What was beyond? Ah! that touched a chord which gave a thrill of

pain. What was beyond? A new alliance, of course. Legal disabilities

removed, Hartley Emerson would take upon himself new marriage vows.

Could she say, "Yea, and amen" to this? No, alas! no. There was a

feeling of intense, irrepressible anguish away down in heart-regions

that lay far beyond the lead-line of prior consciousness. What did

it mean? She asked herself the question with a fainting spirit. Had

she not known herself? Were old states of tenderness, which she had

believed crushed out and dead along ago, hidden away in secret

places of her heart, and kept there safe from harm?

No wonder she sat pale and still, crumpling nervously that fatal

document which had startled her with a new revelation of herself.

There was love in her heart still, and she knew it not. For a long

time she sat like one in a dream.

"God help me!" she said at length, looking around her in a wild,

bewildered manner. "What does all this mean?"

There came at this moment a gentle tap at her door. She knew whose

soft hand had given the sound.

"Irene," exclaimed Rose Carman, as she took the hand of her friend

and looked into her changed countenance, "what ails you?"

Irene turned her face partly away to get control of its expression.

"Sit down, Rose," she said, as soon as she could trust herself to

speak.

They sat down together, Rose troubled and wondering. Irene then

handed her friend the notice which she had received. Miss Carman

read it, but made no remark for some time.

"It has disturbed you," she said at length, seeing that Irene

continued silent.

"Yes, more than I could have believed," answered Irene. Her voice

had lost its familiar tones.

"You have expected this?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were prepared for it."

"And I am," replied Irene, speaking with more firmness of manner.

"Expectation grows so nervous, sometimes, that when the event comes

it falls upon us with a painful shock. This is my case now. I would

have felt it less severely if it had occurred six months ago."

"What will you do?" asked Rose.

"Do?"

"Yes."

"What can I do?"

"Resist the application, if you will."

"But I will not," answered Irene, firmly. "He signifies his wishes

in the case, and those wishes must determine everything. I will

remain passive."

"And let the divorce issue by default of answer?"

"Yes."

There was a faintness of tone which Rose could not help remarking.