shone bright above, she thought of the clouds that were gathering
somewhere, and destined ere long to darken the whole horizon.

On the day following, Mr. Markland went again to the city, and was
gone until late in the evening. His mind was as much occupied as on
the evening previous, and he spent the hours from tea-time until
eleven o'clock in the library, writing. If Mrs. Markland did not
appear to notice any change in her husband since Mr. Lyon came to
Woodbine Lodge, it was not that the change had escaped her. No--she
was too deeply interested in all that concerned him to fail in
noting every new aspect of thought or feeling. He had said nothing
of awakened purpose, quickened into activity by long conferences
with his guest, but she saw that such purposes were forming. Of
their nature she was in entire ignorance. That they would still
further estrange him from Woodbine Lodge, she had too good reason,
in a knowledge of his character, to fear. With him, whatever became
a pursuit absorbed all others; and he looked to the end with a
visions so intent, that all else was seen in obscurity. And so, with
a repressed sigh, this gentle, true-hearted, loving woman, whose
thought rarely turned in upon herself, awaited patiently the time
when her husband would open to her what was in his thoughts. And the
time, she knew, was not distant.






CHAPTER VI.