Not many hours of sleep brought forgetfulness of suffering through the night that followed.  Sometimes the unhappy girl heaped mountains of reproaches upon her own head; and sometimes pride and indignation, gaining rule in her heart, would whisper self-justification, and throw the weight of responsibility upon her lover.

Her pale face and troubled eyes revealed too plainly, on the next morning, the conflict through which she had passed.

“Write him a letter of apology or explanation,” said Mr. Delancy.

But Irene was not in a state of mind for this.  Pride came whispering too many humiliating objections in her ear.  Morning passed, and in the early hours of the afternoon, when the New York boat usually came up the river, she was out on the portico watching for its appearance.  Hope whispered that, repenting of his hasty return on the day before, her lover was now hurrying back to meet her.  At last the white hull of the boat came gliding into view, and in less than half an hour it was at the landing.  Then it moved on its course again.  Almost to a second of time had Irene learned to calculate the minutes it required for Hartley to make the distance between the landing and the nearest point in the road where his form could meet her view.  She held her breath in eager expectation as that moment of time approached.  It came—­it passed; the white spot in the road, where his dark form first revealed itself, was touched by no obscuring shadow.  For more than ten minutes Irene sat motionless, gazing still toward that point; then, sighing deeply, she arose and went up to her room, from which she did not come down until summoned to join her father at tea.

The next day passed as this had done, and so did the next.  Hartley neither came nor sent a message of any kind.  The maiden’s heart began to fail.  Grief and fear took the place of accusation and self-reproach.  What if he had left her for ever!  The thought made her heart shiver as if an icy wind had passed over it.  Two or three times she took up her pen to write him a few words and entreat him to come back to her again.  But she could form no sentences against which pride did not come with strong objection; and so she suffered on, and made no sign.

A whole week at last intervened.  Then the enduring heart began to grow stronger to bear, and, in self-protection, to put on sterner moods.  Hers was not a spirit to yield weakly in any struggle.  She was formed for endurance, pride and self-reliance giving her strength above common natures.  But this did not really lessen her suffering, for she was not only capable of deep affection, but really loved Hartley almost as her own life; and the thought of losing him, whenever it grew distinct, filled her with terrible anguish.

With pain her father saw the color leave her cheeks, her eyes grow fixed and dreamy, and her lips shrink from their full outline.

“Write to Hartley,” he said to her one day, after a week had passed.