After the Storm

"Shall I call your father? He is very anxious about you."

"Not yet." And she caught slightly her breath, as if feeling were

growing too strong for her.

"Let it be as a dream, Hartley." Irene lifted herself up and looked

calmly, but with a very sad expression on her countenance, into her

husband's face.

"Between us two, Irene, even as a dream from which both have

awakened," he replied.

She closed her eyes and sunk back upon the pillow.

Mr. Emerson then went to the door and spoke to Mr. Delancy. On a

brief consultation it was thought best for Dr. Edmundson not to see

her again. A knowledge of the fact that he had been called in might

give occasion for more disturbing thoughts than were already

pressing upon her mind. And so, after giving some general directions

as to the avoidance of all things likely to excite her mind

unpleasantly, the doctor withdrew.

Mr. Delancy saw his daughter alone. The interview was long and

earnest. On his part was the fullest disapproval of her conduct and

the most solemnly spoken admonitions and warnings. She confessed her

error, without any attempt at excuse or palliation, and promised a

wiser conduct in the future.

"There is not one husband in five," said the father, "who would have

forgiven an act like this, placing him, as it does, in such a false

and humiliating position before the world. He loves you with too

deep and true a love, my child, for girlish trifling like this. And

let me warn you of the danger you incur of turning against you the

spirit of such a man. I have studied his character closely, and I

see in it an element of firmness that, if it once sets itself, will

be as inflexible as iron. If you repeat acts of this kind, the day

must come when forbearance will cease; and then, in turning from

you, it will be never to turn back again. Harden him against you

once, and it will be for all time."

Irene wept bitterly at this strong representation, and trembled at

thought of the danger she had escaped.

To her husband, when she was alone with him again, she confessed her

fault, and prayed him to let the memory of it pass from his mind for

ever. On his part was the fullest denial of any purpose whatever, in

the late misunderstanding, to bend her to his will. He assured her

that if he had dreamed of any serious objection on her part to the

ride, he would not have urged it for a moment. It involved no

promised pleasure to him apart from pleasure to her; and it was

because he believed that she would enjoy the drive that he had urged

her to make one of the party.