After the Storm

At least once a week Emerson left the city, and his books and cases,

to spend a day with Irene in her tasteful home; and sometimes he

lingered there for two or three days at a time. It happened, almost

invariably, that some harsh notes jarred in the music of their lives

during these pleasant seasons, and left on both their hearts a

feeling of oppression, or, worse, a brooding sense of injustice.

Then there grew up between them an affected opposition and

indifference, and a kind of half-sportive, half-earnest wrangling

about trifles, which too often grew serious.

Mr. Delancy saw this with a feeling of regret, and often interposed

to restore some broken links in the chain of harmony.

"You must be more conciliating, Irene," he would often say to his

daughter. "Hartley is earnest and impulsive, and you should yield to

him gracefully, even when you do not always see and feel as he does.

This constant opposition and standing on your dignity about trifles

is fretting both of you, and bodes evil in the future."

"Would you have me assent if he said black was white?" she answered

to her father's remonstrance one day, balancing her little head

firmly and setting her lips together in a resolute way.

"It might be wiser to say nothing than to utter dissent, if, in so

doing, both were made unhappy," returned her father.

"And so let him think me a passive fool?" she asked.

"No; a prudent girl, shaming his unreasonableness by her

self-control."

"I have read somewhere," said Irene, "that all men are self-willed

tyrants--the words do not apply to you, my father, and so there is

an exception to the rule." She smiled a tender smile as she looked

into the face of a parent who had ever been too indulgent. "But,

from my experience with a lover, I can well believe the sentiment

based in truth. Hartley must have me think just as he thinks, and do

what he wants me to do, or he gets ruffled. Now I don't expect, when

I am married, to sink into a mere nobody--to be my husband's echo

and shadow; and the quicker I can make Hartley comprehend this the

better will it be for both of us. A few rufflings of his feathers

now will teach him how to keep them smooth and glossy in the time to

come."

"You are in error, my child," replied Mr. Delancy, speaking very

seriously. "Between those who love a cloud should never interpose;

and I pray you, Irene, as you value your peace and that of the man

who is about to become your husband, to be wise in the very

beginning, and dissolve with a smile of affection every vapor that

threatens a coming storm. Keep the sky always bright."