gs of Irene into antagonism.

There was no guarantee of happiness in such a state of things.
Mutual forbearance existed, not from self-discipline and tender
love, but from fear of consequences. They were burnt children, and
dreaded, as well they might, the fire.

With little change in their relations to each other, and few events
worthy of notice, a year went by. Mr. Delancy came down to New York
several times during this period, spending a few days at each visit,
while Irene went frequently to Ivy Cliff, and stayed there,
occasionally, as long as two or three weeks. Hartley always came up
from the city while Irene was at her father's, but never stayed
longer than a single day, business requiring him to be at his office
or in court. Mr. Delancy never saw them together without closely
observing their manner, tone of speaking and language. Both, he
could see, were maturing rapidly. Irene had changed most. There was
a style of thinking, a familiarity with popular themes and a womanly
confidence in her expression of opinions that at times surprised
him. With her views on some subjects his own mind was far from being
in agreement, and they often had warm arguments. Occasionally, when
her husband was at Ivy Cliff a difference of sentiment would arise
between them. Mr. Delancy noticed, when this was the case, that
Irene always pressed her view with ardor, and that her husband,
after a brief but pleasant combat, retired from the field. He also
noticed that in most cases, after this giving up of the contest by
Hartley, he was more than usually quiet and seemed to be pondering
things not wholly agreeable.

Mr. Delancy was gratified to see that there was no jarring between
them. But he failed not at the same time to notice something else
that gave him uneasiness. The warmth of feeling, the tenderness, the
lover-like ardor which displayed itself in the beginning, no longer
existed. They did not even show that fondness for each other which
is so beautiful a trait in young married partners. And yet he could
trace no signs of alienation. The truth was, the action of their
lives had been inharmonious. Deep down in their hearts there was no
defect of love. But this love was compelled to hide itself away; and
so, for the most part, it lay concealed from even their own
consciousness.

During the second year of their married life there came a change of
state in both Irene and her husband. They had each grown weary of
constraint when