"A spirit of overbearing self-will!' said Emerson. "Yes, if you choose. That is what my soul revolts against. I gave you my heart and my hand--my love and my confidence--not my freedom. The last is a part of my being, and I will maintain it while I have life." "Perverse girl! What insane spirit has got possession of your mind?" exclaimed Emerson, chafed beyond endurance. "Say on," retorted Irene; "I am prepared for this. I have seen, from the hour of our marriage, that a time of strife would come; that your will would seek to make itself ruler, and that I would not submit. I did not expect the issue to come so soon. I trusted in your love to spare me, at least, until I could be bidden from general observation when I turned myself upon you and said, Thus far thou mayest go, but no farther. But, come the struggle early or late--now or in twenty years--I am prepared." There came at this moment a rap at their door. Mr. Emerson opened it. "Carriage is waiting," said a servant. "Say that we will be down in a few minutes." The door closed. "Come, Irene," said Mr. Emerson. "You spoke very confidently to the servant, and said we would be down in a few minutes." "There, there, Irene! Let this folly die; it has lived long enough. Come! Make yourself ready with all speed--our party is delayed by this prolonged absence." "You think me trifling, and treat me as if I were a captious child," said Irene, with chilling calmness; "but I am neither." "Then you will not go?" "I will not go." She said the words slowly and deliberately, and as she spoke looked her husband steadily in the face. She was in earnest, and he felt that further remonstrance would be in vain. "You will repent of this," he replied, with enough of menace in his voice to convey to her mind a great deal more than was in his thoughts. And he turned from her and left the room. Going down stairs, he found the riding-party waiting for their appearance.