"My daughter!" he exclaimed, so surprised that he could not move
from where he was sitting.
"Dear father!" she answered with a loving smile, throwing her arms
around his neck and kissing him.
"Where is Hartley?" asked the old man, looking past Irene toward the
door through which she had just entered.
"Oh, I left him in New York," she replied.
"In New York! Have you come alone?"
"Yes. Christmas is only five days off, you know, and I am here to
help you prepare for it. Of course, Hartley cannot leave his
business."
She spoke in an excited, almost gay tone of voice. Mr. Delancy
looked at her earnestly. Unpleasant doubts flitted through his mind.
"When will your husband come up?" he inquired.
"At Christmas," she answered, without hesitation.
"Why didn't you write, love?" asked Mr. Delancy. "You have taken me
by surprise, and set my nerves in a flutter."
"I only thought about it last evening. One of my sudden
resolutions."
And she laughed a low, fluttering laugh. It might have been an
error, but her father had a fancy that it did not come from her
heart.
"I will run up stairs and put off my things," she said, moving away.
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