It is over now.

The first bitterness is past.

Let us be thankful for that, and gather up our strength for the future.
Dear father! Speak to me!" Mr.Delancy tried to rally himself, but he was too much broken down by the shock.

He said a few words, in which there was scarcely any connection of ideas, and then, getting up from the sofa, walked about the room, turning one of his hands within the other in a distressed way.
"Oh dear, dear, dear!" he murmured to himself, in a feeble manner.
"I have dreaded this, and prayed that it might not be.

Such wretchedness and disgrace! Such wretchedness and disgrace! Had they no patience with each other--no forbearance--no love, that it must come to this?
Dear! dear! dear! Poor child!" Irene, with her white, wretched face, sat looking at him for some time, as he moved about, a picture of helpless misery; then, going to him again, she drew an arm around his neck and tried to comfort him.