“Not by any means,” he answered quickly, eager to do away the impression.  “Not by any means,” he repeated.  “The day of mere auguries, omens and signs is over.  Whatever natural phenomena appear are dependent on natural causes, and men of science are beginning to study the so-called superstitions of farmers and seamen, to find out, if possible, the philosophical elucidation.  Already a number of curious results have followed investigation in this field.”

Irene leaned on his arm still, but she did not respond.  A little cloud had come up and lay just upon the verge of her soul’s horizon.  Her husband knew that it was there; and this knowledge caused a cloud to dim also the clear azure of his mind.  There was a singular correspondence between their mental sky and the fair cerulean without.

Fearing to pursue the theme on which they were conversing, lest some unwitting words might shadow still further the mind of Irene, Emerson changed the subject, and was, to all appearance, successful in dispelling the little cloud.

The hour came, at length, when the bridal party must leave.  After a tender, tearful partings with her father, Irene turned her steps away from the home of her childhood into a new path, that would lead her out into the world, where so many thousands upon thousands, who saw only a way of velvet softness before them, have cut their tended feet upon flinty rocks, even to the verve end of their tearful journey.  Tightly and long did Mr. Delancy hold his child to his heart, and when his last kiss was given and his fervent “God give you a happy life, my daughter!” said, he gazed after her departing form with eyes front which manly firmness could not hold back the tears.

No one knew better than Mr. Delancy the perils that lay before his daughter.  That storms would darken her sky and desolate her heart, he had too good reason to fear.  His hope for her lay beyond the summer-time of life, when, chastened by suffering and subdued by experience, a tranquil autumn would crown her soul with blessings that might have been earlier enjoyed.  He was not superstitious, and yet it was with a feeling of concern that he saw the white and golden clouds gathering like enchanted land along the horizon, and piling themselves up, one above another, as if in sport, building castles and towers that soon dissolved, changing away into fantastic forms, in which the eye could see no meaning; and when, at last, his ear caught a far-distant sound that jarred the air, a sudden pain shot through his heart.

“On any other day but this!” he sighed to himself, turning from the window at which he was standing and walking restlessly the floor for several minutes, lost in a sad, dreamy reverie.

Like something instinct with life the stately steamer, quivering with every stroke of her iron heart, swept along the gleaming river on her upward passage, bearing to their destination her freight of human souls.  Among theme was our bridal party, which, as the day was so clear and beautiful, was gathered upon the upper deck.  As Irene’s eyes turned from the closing vision of her father’s beautiful home, where the first cycle of her life had recorded its golden hours, she said, with a sigh, speaking to one of her companions—­