After the Storm

The strong man broke down. His voice fell into low sobs--tears

blinded his vision. He groped about for the hand of Irene, found it,

and held it wildly to his lips.

Was it for a loving woman to hold back coldly now? No, no, no! That

were impossible.

"My husband!" she said, tenderly and reverently, as she placed her

saintly lips on his forehead.

There was a touching ceremonial at Ivy Cliff on the next day--one

never to be forgotten by the few who were witnesses. A white-haired

minister--the same who, more than twenty years before, had said to

Hartley Emerson and Irene Delancy, "May your lives flow together

like two pure streams that meet in the same valley,"--again joined

their hands and called them "husband and wife." The long, dreary,

tempestuous night had passed away, and the morning arisen in

brightness and beauty.