After the Storm

Mrs. Everet looked at Irene wonderingly as she spoke. She had never

before thus unveiled her thoughts.

"He struck me," was her reply, "as a man who had passed through

years of discipline and gained the mastery of himself."

"I trust that it may be so," Irene answered, rather as if speaking

to herself than to another.

"As I grow older," she added, after a long pause, now looking with

calm eyes upon her friend, "and life-experiences correct my judgment

and chasten my feelings, I see all things in a new aspect. I

understand my own heart better--its needs, capacities and yearnings;

and self-knowledge is the key by which we unlock the mystery of

other souls. So a deeper self-acquaintance enables me to look deeper

into the hearts of all around me. I erred in marrying Mr. Emerson.

We were both too hasty, self-willed and tenacious of rights and

opinions to come together in a union so sacred and so intimate. But,

after I had become his wife, after I had taken upon myself such holy

vows, it was my duty to stand fast. I could not abandon my place and

be innocent before God and man. And I am not innocent, Rose."

The face of Irene was strongly agitated for some moments; but she

recovered herself and went on: "I am speaking of things that have hitherto been secrets of my own

heart. I could not bring them out even for you to look at, my

dearest, truest, best of friends. Now it seems as if I could not

bear the weight of my heavy thoughts alone; as if, in admitting you

beyond the veil, I might find strength to suffer, if not ease from

pain. There is no such thing as living our lives over again and

correcting their great errors. The past is an irrevocable fact. Ah,

if conscience would sleep, if struggles for a better life would make

atonement for wrong--then, as our years progress, we might lapse

into tranquil states. But gradually clearing vision increases the

magnitude of a fault like mine, for its fatal consequences are seen

in broader light. There is a thought which has haunted me for a year

past like a spectre. It comes to me unbidden; sometimes to disturb

the quiet of my lonely evenings, sometimes in the silent

night-watches to banish sleep from my pillow; sometimes to place

silence on my lips as I sit among cherished friends. I never

imagined that I would put this thought in words for any mortal ear;

yet it is coming to my lips now, and I feel impelled to go on. You

believe that there are, as you call them 'conjugal partners,' or men

and women born for each other, who, in a true marriage of souls,

shall become eternally one. They do not always meet in this life;

nay, for the sake of that discipline which leads to purification,

may form other and uncongenial ties in the world, and live

unhappily; but in heaven they will draw together by a

divinely-implanted attraction, and be there united for ever. I have

felt that something like this must be true; that every soul must

have its counterpart. The thought which has so haunted me is, that

Hartley Emerson and unhappy _I_ were born for each other."