bstraction.

"Do you want anything, Miss Irene?"

"No, thank you, Margaret."

She answered in as cheerful a tone as she could assume, and the kind
old waiting-woman retired.

From that time every one noted a change in Irene. But none knew, or
even guessed, its cause or meaning. Not even to her friend, Mrs.
Everet, did she speak of her meeting with Hartley Emerson. Her face
did not light up as before, and her eyes seemed always as if looking
inward or gazing dreamily upon something afar off. Yet in good deeds
she failed not. If her own heart was heavier, she made other hearts
lighter by her presence.

And still the years went on in their steady revolutions--one, two,
three, four, five more years, and in all that time the parted ones
did not meet again.

CHAPTER XXV.

BORN FOR EACH OTHER.

"_I SAW_ Mr. Emerson yesterday," said Mrs. Everet. She was sitting
with Irene in her own house in New York.

"Did you?" Irene spoke evenly and quietly, but did not turn her face
toward Mrs. Everet.

"Yes. I saw him at my husband's store. Mr. Everet has engaged him to
conduct an important suit, in which many thousands of dollars are at
stake."

"How does he look?" inquired Irene, without showing any feelings but
still keeping her face turned from Mrs Everet.

"Well, I should say, though rather too much frosted for a man of his
years."

"Gray, do you mean?" Irene manifested some surprise.

"Yes; his hair and beard are quite sprinkled with time's white
snow-flakes."

"He is only forty," remarked Irene.

"I should say fifty, judging from his appearance."

"Only forty." And a faint sigh breathed on the lips of Irene. She
did not look around at her friend but sat very still, with her face
turned partly away. Mrs. Everet looked at her closely, to read, if
possible, what was passing in her mind. But the countenance of Irene
was too much hidden. Her attitude, however, indicated intentness of
thought, though not disturbing thought.

"Rose," she said at length, "I grow less at peace with myself as the
years move onward."

"You speak from some passing state of mind," suggested Mrs. Everet.

"No; from a gradually forming permanent state. Ten years ago I
looked back upon the past in a stern, self-sustaining,
martyr-spirit. Five years ago all things wore a different aspect. I
began to have misgivings; I could not so clearly make out my case.
New thoughts on the subject--and not very welcome ones--began to
intrude.