Mrs. Markland forced a smile, as she replied, "Why should I be
troubled? Have I not every good gift the heart can desire?"

"And yet, Agnes, your eyes are full of tears."

"Are they?" A light shone through their watery vail. "Only an April
shadow, Edward, that is quickly lost in April sunshine. But your
question is not so easily answered."

"I ought to be perfectly happy here; nothing seems wanting. Yet my
spirit is like a aged bird that flutters against its prison-bars."

"Oh, no, Edward; not so bad as that," replied Mrs. Markland. "You
speak in hyperbole. This lovely place, which everywhere shows the
impress of your hand, is not a prison. Call it rather, a paradise."

"A paradise I sought to make it. But I am content no longer to be an
idle lingerer among its pleasant groves; for I have ceased to feel
the inspiration of its loveliness."

Mrs. Markland made no answer. After a silence of some minutes, her
husband said, with a slight hesitation in his voice, as if uncertain
as to the effect of his words--

"I have for some time felt a strong desire to visit Europe."

The colour receded from Mrs. Markland's face; and there was a look
in her eyes that her husband did not quite understand, as they
rested steadily in his.