"Oh, mother! Don't! don't!" And lifting her head from the bosom of
her parent, she turned her face away, and buried it in the pillow.
As she did not move for the space of several minutes, Mrs. Markland
thought it unwise to intrude other remarks upon her, believing that
the distinct image she had already presented would live in her
memory and do its work. Soon after, she retired to her own room.
Half an hour later, and both were sleeping, in quiet
unconsciousness.






CHAPTER XI.





LATE on the following day, Mr. Markland arrived from New York. Eager
as all had been for his return, there was something of embarrassment
in the meeting. The light-hearted gladness with which every one
welcomed him, even after the briefest absence, was not apparent now.
In the deep, calm eyes of his wife, as he looked lovingly into them,
he saw the shadow of an unquiet spirit. And the tears which no
effort of self-control could keep back from Fanny's cheeks, as she
caught his hand eagerly, and hid her face on his breast, answered
too surely the question he most desired to ask. It was plain to him
that Mr. Lyon's letter had found its way into her hands.