“Dear Irene!” he murmured in her ears; and then her hand tightened on his.

And thus she remained until conscious life regained its full activity.  Then the trial came.

Suddenly lifting herself from the bosom of her husband, Irene gave a hurried glance around the well-known chamber, then turned and looked with a strange, fearful questioning glance into his face: 

“Where am I?  What does this mean?”

“It means,” replied Emerson, “that the dream, thank God! is over, and that my dear wife is awake again.”

He placed his arms again around her and drew her to his heart, almost smothering her, as he did so, with kisses.

She lay passive for a little while; then, disengaging herself, she said, faintly—­

“I feel weak and bewildered; let me lie down.”

She closed her eyes as Emerson placed her back on the pillow, a sad expression covering her still pallid face.  Sitting down beside her, he took her hand and held it with a firm pressure.  She did not attempt to withdraw it.  He kissed her, and a warmer flush came over her face.

“Dear Irene!” His hand pressed tightly upon hers, and she returned the pressure.

“Shall I call your father?  He is very anxious about you.”

“Not yet.”  And she caught slightly her breath, as if feeling were growing too strong for her.

“Let it be as a dream, Hartley.”  Irene lifted herself up and looked calmly, but with a very sad expression on her countenance, into her husband’s face.

“Between us two, Irene, even as a dream from which both have awakened,” he replied.

She closed her eyes and sunk back upon the pillow.

Mr. Emerson then went to the door and spoke to Mr. Delancy.  On a brief consultation it was thought best for Dr. Edmundson not to see her again.  A knowledge of the fact that he had been called in might give occasion for more disturbing thoughts than were already pressing upon her mind.  And so, after giving some general directions as to the avoidance of all things likely to excite her mind unpleasantly, the doctor withdrew.

Mr. Delancy saw his daughter alone.  The interview was long and earnest.  On his part was the fullest disapproval of her conduct and the most solemnly spoken admonitions and warnings.  She confessed her error, without any attempt at excuse or palliation, and promised a wiser conduct in the future.

“There is not one husband in five,” said the father, “who would have forgiven an act like this, placing him, as it does, in such a false and humiliating position before the world.  He loves you with too deep and true a love, my child, for girlish trifling like this.  And let me warn you of the danger you incur of turning against you the spirit of such a man.  I have studied his character closely, and I see in it an element of firmness that, if it once sets itself, will be as inflexible as iron.  If you repeat acts of this kind, the day must come when forbearance will cease; and then, in turning from you, it will be never to turn back again.  Harden him against you once, and it will be for all time.”