FTER a night that was sleepless to at least three members of the
family the morning of the day on which Mr. Markland was to start on
his journey came. Tearful eyes were around him. Even to the last,
Fanny begged him not to leave them, and almost clung to him at the
moment of parting. Finally, the separation was accomplished, and,
shrinking back in the carriage that conveyed him to the city, Mr.
Markland gave himself up to sad reveries. As his thoughts reached
forward to the point of his destination, and he tried to arrange in
his mind all the information he had relating to the business in
which he was now embarked, he saw more clearly than ever the feeble
hold upon his fortune that remained to him. Less confident, too, was
he of the good result of his journey. Now that he was fairly on the
way, doubt began to enter his mind.

This was Mr. Markland's state of feelings on reaching the city. His
first act was to drive to the post-office, to get any letters that
might have arrived for him. He received only one, and that was from
New York. The contents were of a startling character. Mr. Fenwick
wrote:

"Come on immediately. Your presence is desired by all the members of
the Company here. We have news of an unexpected and far from
pleasant character."

This was all; but it came with a painful shock upon the feelings of
Mr. Markland. Its very vagueness made it the more frightful to him;
and his heart imagined the worst.

Without communicating with his family, who supposed him on his
journey southward, Mr. Markland took the first train for New York,
and in a few hours arrived in that city, and called at the office of
Mr. Fenwick. A single glance at the agent's countenance told him
that much was wrong. A look of trouble shadowed it, and only a
feeble smile parted his lips as he came forward to meet him.

"What news have you?" eagerly inquired Mr. Markland.

"Bad news, I am sorry to say," was answered.

"What is its nature?" The face of Mr. Markland was of an ashen hue,
and his lips quivered.

"I fear we have been mistaken in our man," said Mr. Fenwick.

"In Lyon?"

"Yes. His last letters are of a very unsatisfactory character, and
little in agreement with previous communications. We have, besides,
direct information from a partly on the ground, that tends to
confirm our worst fears."

"Worst fears of what?" asked Markland, still strongly agitated.

"Unfair--nay, treacherous--dealing."

"Treachery!"

"That wor