ed that he saw, Mr. Lyon?"

"Mr. Allison."

"Mr. Allison!"

"Yes."

"Where did he see him?"

"He didn't see him at all," confidently answered Mr. Markland. "He
saw Mr. Willet."

"He believed that the person he saw was Mr. Lyon."

"So did I, until a nearer approach convinced me that I was in error.
If I could be deceived, the fact that Mr. Allison was also deceived
is by no means a remarkable circumstance."

"Was it in this neighbourhood that he saw the person he believed to
be Mr Lyon?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Markland's eyes fell to the ground, and she sat, for a long
time, so entirely abstracted, as almost to lose her consciousness of
external things.

"The dew is rather heavy this evening," said her husband, arousing
her by the words. She arose, and they went together into the
sitting-room, where they found all but Fanny. Soon after, Mr.
Markland went to his library, and gave up his thoughts entirely to
the new business in which he was engaged with Mr. Lyon. How, golden
was the promise that lured him on! He was becoming impatient to
tread with swift feet the path to large wealth and honourable
distinction that was opening before him. A new life had been born in
his mind--it was something akin to ambition. In former times,
business was regarded as the means by which a competency might be
obtained; and he pursued it with this end. Having secured wealth, he
retired from busy life, hoping to find ample enjoyment in the
seclusion of an elegant rural home. But, already, restlessness had
succeeded to inactivity, and now his mind was gathering up its
latent strength for new efforts, in new and broader fields, and
under the spur of a more vigorous impulse.

"Edward!" It was the low voice of his wife, and the soft touch of
her hand, that startled the dreaming enthusiast from visions of
wealth and power that dazzled him with their brilliancy.

"Come, Edward, it is growing late," said his wife.

"How late?" he replied, looking up from the paper he had covered
with various memoranda, and clusters of figures.

"It is past eleven o'clock."

"That cannot be, Agnes. It is only a short time since I left the
table.

"Full three hours. All have retired and are sleeping. Ah, my
husband! I do not like this new direction your thoughts are taking.
To me, there is in it a prophecy of evil to us all."

"A mere superstitious impression, Agnes dear: nothing more, you may
depend upon it. I am in the vigour of manhood. My mind is