"How beautiful!" said Mr. Delancy, as he sat down and turned his eyes upon the attractive landscape. Irene did not trust her voice in reply. "Now go in and finish your breakfast, child. I feel better; I don't know what came over me." He added the last sentence in an undertone. Irene returned into the house, but not to resume her place at the table. Her mind was in an agony of dread. She had reached the dining-room, and was about to ring for a servant, when she heard her name called by her father. Running back quickly to the portico, she found him standing in the attitude of one who had been suddenly startled; his face all alive with question and suspense. "Oh, yes! yes! I thought you were here this moment! And so it's all true?" he said, in a quick, troubled way. "True? What is true, father?" asked Irene, as she paused before him. "True, what you told me yesterday." She did not answer. "You have left your husband?" He looked soberly into her face. "I have, father." She thought it best to use no evasion. He groaned, sat down in the chair from which he had arisen, and let his head fall upon his bosom. "Father!" Irene kneeled before him and clasped his hands. "Father! dear father!" He laid a hand on her head, and smoothed her hair in a caressing manner. "Poor child! poor daughter!" he said, in a fond, pitying voice, "don't take it so to heart. Your old father loves you still." She could not stay the wild rush of feeling that was overmastering her. Passionate sobs heaved her breast, and tears came raining from her eyes. "Now, don't, Irene! Don't take on so, daughter! I love you still, and we will be happy here, as in other days." "Yes, father," said Irene, holding down her head and calming her voice, "we will be happy here, as in the dear old time. Oh we will be very happy together. I won't leave you any more." "I wish you had never left me," he answered, mournfully; "I was always afraid of this--always afraid. But don't let it break your heart; I'm all the same; nothing will ever turn me against you. I hope he hasn't been very unkind to you?" His voice grew a little severe. "We wont say anything against him," replied Irene, trying to understand exactly her father's state of mind and accommodate herself thereto. "Forgive and forget is the wisest rule always." "Yes, dear, that's it. Forgive and forget--forgive and forget. There's nothing like it in this world. I'm glad to hear you talk so."