as a little surprised at the way in which
Irene put this interrogation. He looked for a different reply.

"I have said it," was his cold answer.

"Well." She said no more, but looked down and sat thinking for the
space of more than a minute.

"I will go back to Ivy Cliff." She looked up, with something strange
in the expression of her face. It was a blank, unfeeling, almost
unmeaning expression.

"Well." It was Emerson's only response.

"Well; and that is all?" Her tones were so chilling that they came
over the spirit of her husband like the low waves of an icy wind.

"No, that is not all." What evil spirit was blinding his
perceptions? What evil influence pressing him on to the brink of
ruin?

"Say on." How strangely cold and calm she remained! "Say on," she
repeated. Was there none to warn him of danger?

"If you go a third time to your father--" He paused.

"Well?" There was not a quiver in her low, clear, icy tone.

"You must do it with your eyes open, and in full view of the
consequences."

"What are the consequences?"

Beware, rash man! Put a seal on your lips! Do not let the thought so
sternly held find even a shadow of utterance!

"Speak, Hartley Emerson. What are the consequences?"

"You cannot return!" It was said without a quiver of feeling.

"Well." She looked at him with an unchanged countenance, steadily,
coldly, piercingly.

"I have said the words, Irene; and they are no idle utterances.
Twice you have left me, but you cannot do it a third time and leave
a way open between us. Go, then, if you will; but, if we part here,
it must be for ever!"

The 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
her eyes from the floor and turned them full upon her husband. Her
face was not so pale as it had been a little while bef