After the Storm

"I will try, father, for your sake, to guard myself," she answered.

"No, no, Irene. Not for my sake, but for the sake of right,"

returned Mr. Delancy.

They were sitting in the vine-covered portico that looked down, over

a sloping lawn toward the river.

"There is Hartley now!" exclaimed Irene, as the form of her lover

came suddenly into view, moving forward along the road that

approached from the landing, and she sprung forward and went rapidly

down to meet him. There an ardent kiss, a twining of arms, warmly

spoken words and earnest gestures. Mr. Delancy looked at them as

they stood fondly together, and sighed. He could not help it, for he

knew there was trouble before them. After standing and talking for a

short time, they began moving toward the house, but paused at every

few paces--sometimes to admire a picturesque view--sometimes to

listen one to the other and respond to pleasant sentiments--and

sometimes in fond dispute. This was Mr. Delancy's reading of their

actions and gestures, as he sat looking at and observing them

closely.

A little way from the path by which they were advancing toward the

house was a rustic arbor, so placed as to command a fine sweep of

river from one line of view and West Point from another. Irene

paused and made a motion of her hand toward this arbor, as if she

wished to go there; but Hartley looked to the house and plainly

signified a wish to go there first. At this Irene pulled him gently

toward the arbor; he resisted, and she drew upon his arm more

resolutely, when, planting his feet firmly, he stood like a rock.

Still she urged and still he declined going in that direction. It

was play at first, but Mr. Delancy saw that it was growing to be

earnest. A few moments longer, and he saw Irene separate from

Hartley and move toward the arbor; at the same time the young man

came forward in the direction of the house. Mr. Delancy, as he

stepped from the portico to meet him, noticed that his color was

heightened and his eyes unusually bright.

"What's the matter with that self-willed girl of mine?" he asked, as

he took the hand of Emerson, affecting a lightness of tone that did

not correspond with his real feelings.

"Oh, nothing serious," the young man replied. "She's only in a

little pet because I wouldn't go with her to the arbor before I paid

my respects to you."

"She's a spoiled little puss," said the father, in a fond yet

serious way, "and you'll have to humor her a little at first,

Hartley. She never had the wise discipline of a mother, and so has

grown up unused to that salutary control which is so necessary for

young persons. But she has a warm, true heart and pure principles;

and these are the foundation-stones on which to build the temple of

happiness."