He felt the old tenderness toward his wife returning, dwelt on her beauty, accomplishments, virtues and high mental endowments with a glow of pride, and called her defects of character light in comparison.
"If I were more a man, and less a child of feeling and impulse," he said to himself, "I would be more worthy to hold the place of husband to a woman like Irene.

She has strong peculiarities--who has not peculiarities?
Am I free from them?
She is no ordinary woman, and must not be trammeled by ordinary tame routine.

She has quick impulses; therefore, if I love her, should I not guard them, lest they leap from her feebly restraining hand in the wrong direction?
She is sensitive to control; why, then, let her see the hand that must lead her, sometimes, aside from the way she would walk through the promptings of her own will?
Do I not know that she loves me?
And is she not dear to me as my own life?
What folly to strive with each other! What madness to let angry feelings shadow for an instant our lives!" It was in this state of mind that Emerson returned home.

There were a few misgivings in his heart as he entered, for he was not sure as to the kind of reception Irene would offer his overtures for peace; but there was no failing of his purpose to sue for peace and obtain it.

With a quick step he passed through the hall, and, after glancing into the parlors to see if his wife were there, went up stairs with two or three light bounds.