came a gush of tears. These were for herself. A shadow had suddenly
fallen upon the lovely home where she had hoped to spend all the
days of her life--a shadow from a storm-boding cloud. Even from the
beginning of their wedded life, she had marked in her husband a
defect of character, which, gaining strength, had led to his giving
up business, and their retirement to the country. That defect was
the common one, appertaining to all, a looking away from the present
into the future for the means of enjoyment. In all the years of his
earnest devotion to business, Mr. Markland had kept his eye steadily
fixed upon the object now so completely attained; and much of
present enjoyment had been lost in the eager looking forward for
this coveted time. And now, that more than all his fondest
anticipations were realized, only for a brief period did he hold to
his lips the cup full of anticipated delight. Already his hand felt
the impulse that moved him to pour its crystal waters upon the
ground.

Mrs. Markland's clear appreciation of her husband's character was
but a prophecy of the future. She saw that Woodbine Lodge--now grown
into her affections, and where she hoped to live and die--even if it
did not pass from their possession--bartered for some glittering
toy--could not remain their permanent home. For this flowed her
first tears; and these, as we have said, were for herself. But her
mind soon regained its serenity; and from herself, her thoughts
turned to her husband. She was unselfish enough not only to be able
to realize something of his state of mind, but to sympathize with
him, and pity his inability to find contentment in the actual. This
state of mind she regarded as a disease, and love prompted all
self-denial for his sake.