"You must do it with your eyes open, and in full view of the consequences." "What are the consequences?" Beware, rash man! Put a seal on your lips! Do not let the thought so sternly held find even a shadow of utterance! "Speak, Hartley Emerson. What are the consequences?" "You cannot return!" It was said without a quiver of feeling. "Well." She looked at him with an unchanged countenance, steadily, coldly, piercingly. "I have said the words, Irene; and they are no idle utterances. Twice you have left me, but you cannot do it a third time and leave a way open between us. Go, then, if you will; but, if we part here, it must be for ever!" The eyes of Irene dropped slowly. There was a slight change in the expression of her face. Her hands moved one within the other nervously. For ever! The words are rarely uttered without leaving on the mind a shade of thought. For ever! They brought more than a simple shadow to the mind of Irene. A sudden darkness fell upon her soul, and for a little while she groped about like one who had lost her way. But her husband's threat of consequences, his cold, imperious manner, his assumed superiority, all acted as sharp spurs to pride, and she stood up, strong again, in full mental stature, with every power of her being in full force for action and endurance. "I go." There was no sign of weakness in her voice. She had raised her eyes from the floor and turned them full upon her husband. Her face was not so pale as it had been a little while before. Warmth had come back to the delicate skin, flushing it with beauty. She did not stand before him an impersonation of anger, dislike or rebellion. There was not a repulsive attitude or expression; no flashing of the eyes, nor even the cold, diamond glitter seen a little while before. Slowly turning away, she left the room; but, to her husband, she seemed still standing there, a lovely vision. There had fallen, in that instant of time, a sunbeam which fixed the image upon his memory in imperishable colors. What though he parted company here with the vital form, that effigy would be, through all time, his inseparable companion! "Gone!" Hartley Emerson held his breath as the word came into mental utterance. There was a motion of regret in his heart; a wish that he had not spoken quite so sternly--that he had kept back a part of the hard saying. But it was too late now. He could not, after all that had just passed between them--after she had refused to answer his questions touching Major Willard--make any concessions. Come what would, there was to be no retracing of steps now.