After the Storm
Page 87The eyes of Irene dropped slowly. There was a slight change in the
expression of her face. Her hands moved one within the other
nervously.
For ever! The words are rarely uttered without leaving on the mind a
shade of thought. For ever! They brought more than a simple shadow
to the mind of Irene. A sudden darkness fell upon her soul, and for
a little while she groped about like one who had lost her way. But
her husband's threat of consequences, his cold, imperious manner,
his assumed superiority, all acted as sharp spurs to pride, and she
stood up, strong again, in full mental stature, with every power of
her being in full force for action and endurance.
"I go." There was no sign of weakness in her voice. She had raised
face was not so pale as it had been a little while before. Warmth
had come back to the delicate skin, flushing it with beauty. She did
not stand before him an impersonation of anger, dislike or
rebellion. There was not a repulsive attitude or expression; no
flashing of the eyes, nor even the cold, diamond glitter seen a
little while before. Slowly turning away, she left the room; but, to
her husband, she seemed still standing there, a lovely vision. There
had fallen, in that instant of time, a sunbeam which fixed the image
upon his memory in imperishable colors. What though he parted
company here with the vital form, that effigy would be, through all
time, his inseparable companion!
utterance. There was a motion of regret in his heart; a wish that he
had not spoken quite so sternly--that he had kept back a part of the
hard saying. But it was too late now. He could not, after all that
had just passed between them--after she had refused to answer his
questions touching Major Willard--make any concessions. Come what
would, there was to be no retracing of steps now.
"And it may be as well," said he, rallying himself, "that we part
here. Our experiment has proved a sad failure. We grow colder and
more repellant each day, instead of drawing closer together and
becoming more lovingly assimilated. It is not good--this life--for
either of us. We struggle in our bonds and hurt each other. Better
into dangerous companionship, and will not be advised or governed. I
have heard her name fall lightly from lips that cannot utter a
woman's name without leaving it soiled. She is pure now--pure as
snow. I have not a shadow of suspicion, though I pressed her close.
But this contact is bad; she is breathing an impure atmosphere; she
is assorting with some who are sensual and evil-minded, though she
will not believe the truth. Mrs. Lloyd! Gracious heavens! My wife
the intimate companion of that woman! Seen with her in Broadway! A
constant visitor at my house! This, and I knew it not!"