After the Storm

Alas, that all this sweet promise was but a mockery of hope! A

sudden cold, how taken it was almost impossible to tell--for Irene

guarded her father as tenderly as if he were a new-born

infant--disturbed life's delicate equipoise, and the scale turned

fatally the wrong way.

Poor Irene! She had only staggered under former blows--this one

struck her down. Had life anything to offer now? "Nothing! nothing!"

she said in her heart, and prayed that she might die and be at rest

with her father.

Months of stupor followed this great sorrow; then her heart began to

beat again with some interest in life. There was one friend, almost

her only friend--for she now repelled nearly every one who

approached her--who never failed in hopeful, comforting, stimulating

words and offices, who visited her frequently in her recluse life at

Ivy Cliff, and sought with untiring assiduity to win her once more

away from its dead seclusion. And she was at last successful. In the

winter after Mr. Delancy's death, Irene, after much earnest

persuasion, consented to pass a few weeks in the city with Mrs.

Everet. This gained, her friend was certain of all the rest.