nd starting to his
feet, he hurried away to his daughter's apartment; he knocked, but all
was still; he tried the door, but it was locked.

"Go," said he, to a servant standing near, "and bring me the brass key
lying on my dressing-table; it fits this lock."

The key was brought, and Mr. Delancey entered the room, closing the door
behind him. All was silence and loneliness around him. He called his
daughter's name, there was no responsive voice; he rushed to her
sleeping-apartment, but the luxurious couch, unrumpled and unpressed,
told it had known no occupant during the night. The balcony, the garden,
belonging to her rooms, all were searched, but in vain; and the agonized
father threw himself upon the chair Della had so often occupied, with
all the terrible truth rushing across his heart. He buried his pallid
face in his hands, and _wept_; aye, _wept_ hot, burning tears, from
those steady eyes that had never wept for another's woe, and rarely for
his own. There was no note, no word, or line, left to tell him of her
flight, but he knew all without; and bitter, bitter was the crushing
weight upon his mighty pride.

He sent word to Mrs. Delancey, that she would breakfast without him;
and two hours passed before he again stood in the presence of his
anxious wife. None might know what fearful storms, what blighting
whirlwinds, what earthquakes of passion, had passed over that strong
heart in those two short hours. However fierce had been the struggle, it
had been conquered, not by prayer and pleading at that Throne whence all
mercy flows, but by the unbending power of that strong, indomitable
will.

When he broke the news to Mrs. Delancey, the voice was calm and quiet,
and no signs of emotion were visible. But with his wife it was
different. She shrieked, and screamed, and tore her hair, and wept with
a wild violence; Mr. Delancey looked upon her anguish with those same
cold eyes; and when she went off in a fit of violent hysterics, he
ordered her attendants to convey her to her own room, and then drove off
to the store, as though nothing had happened. But what a hidden fire was
scorching up the heart within! Shame and sorrow, remorse and wounded
pride, all struggling and battling there, with their volcanic fires
striving to burst forth, but smothered and kept down by the strength of
the proud heart they lacerated.

Arrived at the store, he seemed to take no notice of Wilkins' absence,
but went straight to his own hi