The colour suddenly receded from the face of his wife, who looked
half-frightened at so unexpected an announcement. Fanny turned
herself further away from observation.

"Saw Mr. Lyon! Can it be possible he did not go South at the time he
said that he would leave?" Mrs. Markland's voice was troubled.

"He went, of course," was the cheerful, confident answer of Mr.
Markland.

"You are sure of it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"How do you explain the mystery, if it may so be called?"

"After hours of doubt, perplexity, and uneasiness, I met the man
himself."

"Not Mr. Lyon?"

Fanny started at her father's announcement, and partly turned toward
him a face that was now of a pallid hue.

"No; not Mr. Lyon," said Mr. Markland, in answer to his wife's
ejaculation, "but a person so nearly resembling him, that, for a few
moments, even I was deceived."

"How singular! Who was the man?"