g down through a fearfully intervening space, and fell, with
scarcely a pulse of life remaining, on the rocky ground beneath. She
caught at no object in her quick descent, for none tempted her hand.
It was one swift plunge, and the shock was over.

"No, father," she said, in a calmer voice, lifting her face from his
bosom--"it is not pride, nor womanly indignation at a deep wrong. I
speak of him as he is now known to me. Oh, beware of him! Let not
his shadow fall darker on our household."

The effect of this conversation in no way quieted the apprehensions
of Mr. Markland, but made his anxieties the deeper. That Lyon had
been false to his child was clear even to him; and the searching
questions of Fanny he could not banish from his thoughts.

"All things confirm the necessity of my journey," he said, when
alone, and in close debate with himself on the subject. "I fear that
I am in the toils of a serpent, and that escape, even with life, is
doubtful. By what a strange infatuation I have been governed! Alas!
into what a fearful jeopardy have I brought the tangible good things
given me by a kind Providence, by grasping at what dazzled my eyes
as of supremely greater value! Have I not been lured by a shadow,
forgetful of the substance in possession?"

CHAPTER XXXI.

"I SHOULD have been contented amid so much beauty, and with even
more than my share of earthly blessings." Thus Mr. Markland communed
with himself, walking about alone, near the close of the day
preceding that on which his appointed journey was to begin. "Am I
not acting over again that old folly of the substance and shadow?
Verily, I believe it is so. Ah! will we ever be satisfied with any
achievement in this life? To-morrow I leave all by which I am here
surrounded, and more, a thousand-fold more--my heart's beloved ones;
and for what? To seek the fortune I was mad enough to cast from me
into a great whirlpool, believing that it would be thrown up at my
feet again, with every disk of gold changed into a sparkling
diamond. I have waited eagerly on the shore for the returning tide,
but yet there is no reflux, and now my last hope rests on the
diver's strength and doubtful fortune. I must make the fearful
plunge."

A cold shudder ran through the frame of Mr. Markland, as he
realized, too distinctly, the image he had conjured up. A feeling of
weakness and irresolution succeeded.

"Ah!" he murmured to himself, "if all had not been so blindly cast