“Sit down.  There.”  And Mr. Delancy placed a chair for her, a little way from the grate.

Irene dropped into the chair like one who moved by another’s volition.

“Now, daughter,” said Mr. Delancy, taking a chair, and drawing it in front of the one in which she was seated, “I am going to ask a plain question, and I want a direct answer.”

Irene rallied herself on the instant.

“Did you leave New York with the knowledge and consent of your husband?”

The blood mounted to her face and stained it a deep crimson: 

“I left without his knowledge.  Consent I never ask.”

The old proud spirit was in her tones.

“I feared as much,” replied Mr. Delancy, his voice falling.  “Then you do not expect Hartley to-day?”

“I expected him yesterday.  He may be here to-day.  I am almost sure he will come.”

“Does he know you are here?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you leave without his knowledge?”

“To punish him.”

“Irene!”

“I have answered without evasion.  It was to punish him.”

“I do not remember in the marriage vows you took upon yourselves anything relating to punishments,” said Mr. Delancy.  “There were explicit things said of love and duty, but I do not recall a sentence that referred to the right of one party to punish the other.”

Mr. Delancy paused for a few moments, but there was no reply to this rather novel and unexpected view of the case.

“Did you by anything in the rite acquire authority to punish your husband when his conduct didn’t just suit your fancy?”

Mr. Delancy pressed the question.

“It is idle, father,” said Irene, with some sharpness of tone, “to make an issue like this.  It does not touch the case.  Away back of marriage contracts lie individual rights, which are never surrendered.  The right of self-protection is one of these; and if retaliation is needed as a guarantee of future peace, then the right to punish is included in the right of self-protection.”

“A peace gained through coercion of any kind is not worth having.  It is but the semblance of peace—­is war in bonds,” replied Mr. Delancy.  “The moment two married partners begin the work of coercion and punishment, that moment love begins to fail.  If love gives not to their hearts a common beat, no other power is strong enough to do the work.  Irene, I did hope that the painful experiences already passed through would have made you wiser.  It seems not, however.  It seems that self-will, passion and a spirit of retaliation are to govern your actions, instead of patience and love.  Well, my child, if you go on sowing this seed in your garden now, in the spring-time of life, you must not murmur when autumn gives you a harvest of thorns and thistles.  If you sow tares in your field, you must not expect to find corn there when you put in your sickle to reap.  You can take back your morning salutation.  It is not a ‘merry Christmas’ to you or to me; and I think we are both done with merry Christmases.”