nt me in the
arrangement proposed?"
"He understood himself and the case entirely," replied Mr. Delancy.
"Believing that you had abandoned him--"
"He didn't believe any such thing!" exclaimed Irene, in strong
excitement.
"You are deceiving yourself, my daughter. His letter is calm and
deliberate. It was not written, as you can see by the date, until
yesterday. He has taken time to let passion cool. Three days were
permitted to elapse, that you might be heard from in case any change
of purpose occurred. But you remained silent. You abandoned him."
"Oh, father, why will you talk in this way? I tell you that Hartley
is only doing this to punish me; that he has no more thought of an
actual separation than he has of dying."
"Admit this to be so, which I only do in the argument," said Mr.
Delancy, "and what better aspect does it present?"
"The better aspect of sport as compared with earnest," replied
Irene.
"At which both will continue to play until earnest is reached--and a
worse earnest than the present. Take the case as you will, and it is
one of the saddest and least hopeful that I have seen."
Irene did not reply.
"You must elect some course of action, and that with the least
possible delay," said Mr. Delancy. "This letter requires an
immediate answer. Go to your room and, in communion with God and
your own heart, come to some quick decision upon the subject."
Irene turned away without speaking and left her father alone in the
library.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FLIGHT AND THE RETURN.
_WE_ will not speak of the cause that led to this serious rupture
between Mr. and Mrs. Emerson. It was light as vanity--an airy
nothing in itself--a spark that would have gone out on a baby's
cheek without leaving a sign of its existence. On the day that Irene
left the home of her husband he had parted from her silent, moody
and with ill-concealed anger. Hard words, reproaches and accusations
had passed between them on the night previous; and both felt
unusually disturbed. The cause of all this, as we have said, was
light as vanity. During the day Mr. Emerson, who was always first to
come to his senses, saw the folly of what had occurred, and when he
turned his face homeward, after three o'clock, it was with the
purpose of ending the unhappy state by recalling a word to which he
had given thoughtless utterance.
The moment our young husband came to this sensible conclusion his
heart beat with a freer motion an
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