An impatient answer was on her tongue; but she checked its

utterance, and spoke from a better spirit.

Not even as a lover had Hartley shown more considerate tenderness

than marked all his conduct toward Irene this evening. His mind was

in a clear-seeing region, and his feelings tranquil. The sphere of

her antagonism failed to reach him. He did not understand the

meaning of her opposition to his wishes, and so pride, self-love and

self-will remained quiescent. How peacefully unconscious was he of

the fact that his feet were standing over a mine, and that a single

spark of passion struck from him would have sprung that mine in

fierce explosion! He read to Irene from a volume which he knew to be

a favorite; talked to her about Ivy Cliff and her father; suggested

an early visit to the pleasant old river home; and thus charmed away

the evil spirits which had found a lodgment in her bosom.

But how different it might have been!




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