be what I was when you were here; and you will find me, on your
return, so changed as to be no longer worthy of your love. Oh, sir!
pity the child you have awakened from a peaceful, happy dream, into
a real life of mingled pain and joy. From the cup you have placed to
my lips, I drink with an eager thirst. The draught is delicious to
the taste, but it intoxicates--nay, maddens me!

"Write back to me at once, dear Mr. Lyon! I shall count the minutes
as hours, until your letter comes. Let the first words be--'Tell all
to your mother.' If you cannot write this, we must be as strangers,
for I will not bind myself to a man who would make me untrue to my
parents. You say that you love me. Love seeks another's happiness.
If you really love me, seek my happiness.

FANNY."

Many times did Fanny read over this letter before resolving to send
it. Far, very far, was it from satisfying her. She feared that it
was too cold--too repellant--too imperative. But it gave the true
alternative. She was not yet ready to abandon father and mother for
one who had thrown a spell over her heart almost as strong as the
enchantment of a sorcerer; and she wished him distinctly to
understand this.

Mr. Lyon was in a southern city when this letter came into his
hands. He was sitting at a table covered with various documents, to
the contents of which he had been giving a long and earnest
attention, when a servant brought in a number of letters from the
post-office. He selected from the package one post-marked Baltimore,
and broke the seal in a hurried and rather nervous manner. As he
opened it, an enclosure fell upon the table. It was superscribed
with his name, in the delicate hand of a woman. This was Fanny's
letter.

A careful observer would have seen more of selfish triumph in the
gleam that shot across his face, than true love's warm delight. The
glow faded into a look of anxiety as he commenced unfolding the
letter, which he read with compressed lips. A long breath, as if a
state of suspense were relieved, followed the perusal. Then he sat,
for some moments, very still, and lost in thought.

"We'll see about that," he murmured at length, laying the letter of
Fanny aside, and taking up sundry other letters which had come by
the same mail. For more than an hour these engrossed his attention.
Two of them, one from Mr. Markland, were answered during the time.

"Now, sweetheart," he said, almost lightly, as he took Fanny's
letter from the