After the Storm

As the party was in couples, and as Mr. Emerson had made up his mind

to go without his young wife, he had to ride alone. The absence of

Irene was felt as a drawback to the pleasure of all the company.

Miss Carman, who understood the real cause of Irene's refusal to

ride, was so much troubled in her mind that she sat almost silent

during the two hours they were out. Mr. Emerson left the party after

they had been out for an hour, and returned to the hotel. His

excitement had cooled off, and he began to feel regret at the

unbending way in which he had met his bride's unhappy mood.

"Her over-sensitive mind has taken up a wrong impression," he said,

as he talked with himself; "and, instead of saying or doing anything

to increase that impression, I should, by word and act of kindness,

have done all in my power for its removal. Two wrongs never make a

right. Passion met by passion results not in peace. I should have

soothed and yielded, and so won her back to reason. As a man, I

ought to possess a cooler and more rationally balanced mind. She is

a being of feeling and impulse,--loving, ardent, proud, sensitive

and strong-willed. Knowing this, it was madness in me to chafe

instead of soothing her; to oppose, when gentle concession would

have torn from her eyes an illusive veil. Oh that I could learn

wisdom in time! I was in no ignorance as to her peculiar character.

I knew her faults and her weaknesses, as well as her nobler

qualities; and it was for me to stimulate the one and bear with the

others. Duty, love, honor, humanity, all pointed to this."

The longer Mr. Emerson's thoughts ran in this direction, the deeper

grew his feeling of self-condemnation, and the more tenderly yearned

his heart toward the young creature he had left alone with the

enemies of their peace nestling in her bosom and filling it with

passion and pain. After separating himself from his party, he drove

back toward the hotel at a speed that soon put his horses into a

foam.