good and honourable, she believed; and, therefore, had faith in him.
Yet had his sudden appearance and injunction of silence disturbed
her, as we have seen, very deeply. Her guileless heart shrunk from
concealment, as if it were something evil. How bewildered were all
her perceptions, usually so calm! A sense of relief had been felt,
the instant she saw that her father's mind was no longer in doubt on
the question of Mr. Lyon's return from the South--relief, that he
was deceived in a matter which might involve the most serious
consequences. But this feeling did not very long remain; and she
became the subject of rapidly alternating states.

Fanny remained alone until the summons to tea startled her from a
sad, half-dreaming state of mind.

Not to meet her father and mother at the tea-table would, she saw,
attract toward her a closer attention than if she mingled with the
family at their evening meal; and so she forced herself away from
the congenial seclusion of her own apartment. As she took her place
at the table, she was conscious that the eyes of her father and
mother, as well as those of Aunt Grace, were fixed scrutinizingly
upon her; and she felt the blood growing warmer in her cheeks, and
flushing her whole countenance. An unusual restraint marked the
intercourse of all during their meal. Two or three times Mr.
Markland sought to draw his daughter into a conversation; but she
replied to his remarks in the briefest manner, and evidently wished
to escape all notice.

"I'm really troubled about Fanny," said Mrs. Markland to her
husband, as they sat looking out upon the fading landscape, as the
twilight deepened.