Mr. Delancy's hand shook so violently before he had finished reading that the paper rattled in the air. On finishing the last sentence he passed it, without a word, to his daughter. It was some moments before the strong agitation produced by the sight of this letter, and its effect upon her father, could be subdued enough to enable her to read a line. "What does it mean, father? I don't understand it," she said, in a hoarse, deep whisper, and with pale, quivering lips. "It means," said Mr. Delancy, "that your husband has taken you at your word." "At my word! What word?" "You have left the home he provided for you, I believe?" "Father!" Her eyes stood out staringly. "Let me read the letter for you." And he took it from her hand. After reading it aloud and slowly, he said-- "That is plain talk, Irene. I do not think any one can misunderstand it. You have, in his view, left him finally, and he now asks me to name a judicious friend to meet his friend, and arrange a basis of separation as favorable to you in its provisions as it can possibly be made." "A separation, father! Oh no, he cannot mean that!" And she pressed her hands strongly against her temples. "Yes, my daughter, that is the simple meaning." "Oh no, no, no! He never meant that." "You left him?" "But not in that way; not in earnest. It was only in fitful anger--half sport, half serious." "Then, in Heaven's name, sit down and write him so, and that without the delay of an instant. He has put another meaning on your conduct. He believes that you have abandoned him." "Abandoned him! Madness!" And Irene, who had risen from her chair, commenced moving about the room in a wild, irresolute kind of way, something like an actress under tragic excitement. "This is meant to punish me!" she said, stopping suddenly, and speaking in a voice slightly touched with indignation. "I understand it all, and see it as a great outrage. Hartley knows as well I do that I left as much in sport as in earnest. But this is carrying the joke too far. To write such a letter to you! Why didn't he write to me? Why didn't he ask me to appoint a friend to represent me in the arrangement proposed?" "He understood himself and the case entirely," replied Mr. Delancy. "Believing that you had abandoned him--" "He didn't believe any such thing!" exclaimed Irene, in strong excitement. "You are deceiving yourself, my daughter. His letter is calm and deliberate. It was not written, as you can see by the date, until yesterday. He has taken time to let passion cool. Three days were permitted to elapse, that you might be heard from in case any change of purpose occurred. But you remained silent. You abandoned him." "Oh, father, why will you talk in this way? I tell you that Hartley is only doing this to punish me; that he has no more thought of an actual separation than he has of dying." "Admit this to be so, which I only do in the argument," said Mr. Delancy, "and what better aspect does it present?"