After the Storm

She followed him passively, closing the door behind her as she

entered.

"Sit down. There." And Mr. Delancy placed a chair for her, a little

way from the grate.

Irene dropped into the chair like one who moved by another's

volition.

"Now, daughter," said Mr. Delancy, taking a chair, and drawing it in

front of the one in which she was seated, "I am going to ask a plain

question, and I want a direct answer."

Irene rallied herself on the instant.

"Did you leave New York with the knowledge and consent of your

husband?"

The blood mounted to her face and stained it a deep crimson: "I left without his knowledge. Consent I never ask."

The old proud spirit was in her tones.

"I feared as much," replied Mr. Delancy, his voice falling. "Then

you do not expect Hartley to-day?"

"I expected him yesterday. He may be here to-day. I am almost sure

he will come."

"Does he know you are here?"

"Yes."

"Why did you leave without his knowledge?"

"To punish him."

"Irene!"

"I have answered without evasion. It was to punish him."

"I do not remember in the marriage vows you took upon yourselves

anything relating to punishments," said Mr. Delancy. "There were

explicit things said of love and duty, but I do not recall a

sentence that referred to the right of one party to punish the

other."

Mr. Delancy paused for a few moments, but there was no reply to this

rather novel and unexpected view of the case.

"Did you by anything in the rite acquire authority to punish your

husband when his conduct didn't just suit your fancy?"

Mr. Delancy pressed the question.

"It is idle, father," said Irene, with some sharpness of tone, "to

make an issue like this. It does not touch the case. Away back of

marriage contracts lie individual rights, which are never

surrendered. The right of self-protection is one of these; and if

retaliation is needed as a guarantee of future peace, then the right

to punish is included in the right of self-protection."

"A peace gained through coercion of any kind is not worth having. It

is but the semblance of peace--is war in bonds," replied Mr.

Delancy. "The moment two married partners begin the work of coercion

and punishment, that moment love begins to fail. If love gives not

to their hearts a common beat, no other power is strong enough to do

the work. Irene, I did hope that the painful experiences already

passed through would have made you wiser. It seems not, however. It

seems that self-will, passion and a spirit of retaliation are to

govern your actions, instead of patience and love. Well, my child,

if you go on sowing this seed in your garden now, in the spring-time

of life, you must not murmur when autumn gives you a harvest of

thorns and thistles. If you sow tares in your field, you must not

expect to find corn there when you put in your sickle to reap. You

can take back your morning salutation. It is not a 'merry Christmas'

to you or to me; and I think we are both done with merry

Christmases."