After the Storm

Two or three times Emerson read the line--"I leave for Ivy Cliff

to-day"--and looked at the signature, before its meaning came fully

into his thought.

"Gone to Ivy Cliff!" he said, at last, in a low, hoarse voice.

"Gone, and without a word of intimation or explanation! Gone, and in

the heat of anger! Has it come to this, and so soon! God help us!"

And the unhappy man sunk into a chair, heart-stricken and weak as a

child.

For nearly the whole of the night that followed he walked the floor

of his room, and the next day found him in a feverish condition of

both mind and body. Not once did the thought of following his wife

to Ivy Cliff, if it came into his mind, rest there for a moment. She

had gone home to her father with only an announcement of the fact.

He would wait some intimation of her further purpose; but, if they

met again, she must come back to him. This was his first,

spontaneous conclusion; and it was not questioned in his thought,

nor did he waver from it an instant. She must come back of her own

free will, if she came back at all.

It was on the twentieth day of December that Irene left New York.

Not until the twenty-second could a letter from her reach Hartley,

if, on reflection or after conference with her father, she desired

to make a communication. But the twenty-second came and departed

without a word from the absent one. So did the twenty-third. By this

time Hartley had grown very calm, self-adjusted and resolute. He had

gone over and over again the history of their lives since marriage

bound them together, and in this history he could see nothing

hopeful as bearing on the future. He was never certain of Irene.

Things said and done in moments of thoughtlessness or excitement,

and not meant to hurt or offend, were constantly disturbing their

peace. It was clouds, and rain, and fitful sunshine all the while.

There were no long seasons of serene delight.

"Why," he said to himself, "seek to prolong this effort to blend

into one two lives that seem hopelessly antagonistic. Better stand

as far apart as the antipodes than live in perpetual strife. If I

should go to Irene, and, through concession or entreaty, win her

back again, what guarantee would I have for the future? None, none

whatever. Sooner or later we must be driven asunder by the violence

of our ungovernable passions, never to draw again together. We are

apart now, and it is well. I shall not take the first step toward a

reconciliation."

Hartley Emerson was a young man of cool purpose and strong will. For

all that, he was quick-tempered and undisciplined. It was from the

possession of these qualities that he was steadily advancing in his

profession, and securing a practice at the bar which promised to

give him a high position in the future. Persistence was another

element of his character. If he adopted any course of conduct, it

was a difficult thing to turn him aside. When he laid his hand upon

the plough, he was of those who rarely look back. Unfortunate

qualities these for a crisis in life such as now existed.