k, is just the real state of the case.
He has deliberately and resolutely entered upon the work of unwinding
from his heart the cord which love his thrown around it in so many
intertwisted folds. So I read him. To break it by sudden force, would
leave so many unwound portions behind, that the memory of her might
sadden the whole of his after-life. And so he is learning to grow
indifferent towards her. To search in her for such things as repel,
instead of for those that charm the heart."

"A dangerous experiment," said my wife, "for one who has loved so
deeply."

"It would be to most men," I remarked. "But there is stuff about
Henry--the stuff that strong, persistent, successful men are made of. If
he has begun this work, he will complete it certainly."

A few weeks afterwards, I had an opportunity of seeing them together,
and I improved it to observe them closely. It was in a mixed company
at the house of Judge Bigelow. Wallingford came in rather late. I
was conversing with Delia when he entered the room, and we were at an
interesting point in the subject under consideration. I noticed, all at
once, a hesitation and confusion of thought, as her eyes rested, with a
sudden interest, on some object in the room. Glancing around, I saw the
young man. We went on with our conversation, Delia rallying herself, as
I could see, with an effort. But she talked no longer from thought, only
from memory--uttering mere truisms and common-places. She put on more
animation, and affected a deeper interest; but I was not deceived.

We were still in conversation, when Wallingford joined us. I saw him fix
his eyes, as they met, searchingly upon her face, and saw her eyes droop
away from his. He was fully self-possessed; she not at ease. His mind
was clear; hers in some confusion. I remained some time near them,
listening to their conversation, and joining in occasionally. Never
before had I seen him appear so well, nor her to such poor advantage.
She tried to act a part--he was himself. I noticed, as he led the
conversation, that he kept away from the esthetic, and held her thought
in the region of moral causes; that he dwelt on the ends and purposes
of life, as involving everything. Now and then she essayed a feeble
argument, or met some of his propositions with light banter. But with
a word he obliterated the sophism--and with a glance repressed the
badinage. I think she could never before have so felt the superiority of
this man, whos