After the Storm

A clatter of machinery, a rush of waters, and the boat glanced

onward but still Hartley Emerson stood motionless and statue-like,

his eyes fixed upon the shore, until the swiftly-gliding vessel bore

him away, and the object which had held his vision by a kind of

fascination was concealed from view.

"An angel, if there ever was one on this side of heaven!" said a

voice close to his ear. Emerson gave a start and turned quickly. A

man plainly dressed stood beside him. He was of middle age, and had

a mild, grave, thoughtful countenance.

"Of whom do you speak?" asked Emerson, not able entirely to veil his

surprise.

"Of the lady we saw go ashore at the landing just now. She turned

and looked at us. You could not help noticing her."

"Who is she?" asked Emerson, and then held his breath awaiting the

answer. The question was almost involuntary, yet prompted by a

suddenly awakened desire to bear the world's testimony regard to

Irene.

"You don't know her, then?" remarked the stranger.

"I asked who she was." Emerson intended to say this firmly, but his

voice was unsteady. "Let us sit down," he added, looking around, and

then leading the way to where some unoccupied chairs were standing.

By the time they were seated he had gained the mastery over himself.

"You don't know her, then?" said the man, repeating his words. "She

is well known about these parts, I can assure you. Why, that was old

Mr. Delancy's daughter. Did you never hear of her?"

"What about her?" was asked.

"Well, in the first place, she was married some ten or twelve years

ago to a lawyer down in New York; and, in the second place, they

didn't live very happily together--why, I never heard. I don't

believe it was her fault, for she's the sweetest, kindest, gentlest

lady it has ever been my good fortune to meet. Some people around

Ivy Cliff call her the 'Angel,' and the word has meaning in it as

applied to her. She left her husband, and he got a divorce, but

didn't charge anything wrong against her. That, I suppose, was more

than he dared to do, for a snow-flake is not purer."

"You have lived in the neighborhood?" said Emerson, keeping his face

a little averted.

"Oh yes, sir. I have lived about here pretty much all my life."

"Then you knew Miss Delancy before she was married?"

"No, sir; I can't say that I knew much about her before that time. I

used to see her now and then as she rode about the neighborhood. She

was a gay, wild girl, sir. But that unhappy marriage made a great

change in her. I cannot forget the first time I saw her after she

came back to her father's. She seemed to me older by many years than

when I last saw her, and looked like one just recovered from a long

and serious illness. The brightness had passed from her face, the

fire from her eyes, the spring from her footsteps. I believe she

left her husband of her own accord, but I never knew that she made

any complaint against him. Of course, people were very curious to

know why she had abandoned him. But her lips must have been sealed,

for only a little vague talk went floating around. I never heard a

breath of wrong charged against him as coming from her."