At the end of three weeks from the day of their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson went down to the city to take possession of their new home.  On the eve of their departure from Ivy Cliff, Mr. Delancy had a long conference with his daughter, in which he conjured her, by all things sacred, to guard herself against that blindness of passion which had already produced such unhappy consequences.  She repeated, with many tears, her good resolutions for the future, and showed great sorrow and contrition for the past.

“It may come out right,” said the old man to himself; as he sat alone, with a pressure of foreboding on his mind, looking into the dim future, on the day of their departure for New York.  His only and beloved child had gone forth to return no more, unless in sorrow or wretchedness.  “It may come out right, but my heart has sad misgivings.”

There was a troubled suspense of nearly a week, when the first letter came from Irene to her father.  He broke the seal with unsteady hands, fearing to let his eyes fall upon the opening page.

“My dear, dear father!  I am a happy young wife.”

“Thank God!” exclaimed the old man aloud, letting the hand fall that held Irene’s letter.  It was some moments before he could read farther; then he drank in, with almost childish eagerness, every sentence of the long letter.

“Yes, yes, it may come out right,” said Mr. Delancy; “it may come out right.”  He uttered the words, so often on his lips, with more confidence than usual.  The letter strongly urged him to make her a visit, if it was only for a day or two.

“You know, dear father,” she wrote, “that most of your time is to be spent with us—­all your winters, certainly; and we want you to begin the new arrangement as soon as possible.”

Mr. Delancy sighed over the passage.  He had not set his heart on this arrangement.  It might have been a pleasant thing for him to anticipate; but there was not the hopeful basis for anticipation which a mind like his required.

Not love alone prompted Mr. Delancy to make an early visit to New York; a feeling of anxiety to know how it really was with the young couple acted quite as strongly in the line of incentive.  And so he went down to the city and passed nearly a week there.  Both Irene and her husband knew that he was observing them closely all the while, and a consciousness of this put them under some constraint.  Everything passed harmoniously, and Mr. Delancy returned with the half-hopeful, half-doubting words on his lips, so often and often repeated—­

“Yes, yes, it may come out right.”

But it was not coming out altogether right.  Even while the old man was under her roof, Irene had a brief season of self-willed reaction against her husband, consequent on some unguarded word or act, which she felt to be a trespass on her freedom.  To save appearances while Mr. Delancy was with them, Hartley yielded and tendered conciliation, all the while that his spirit chafed sorely.