he door, and made things dimly
visible. He moved about, for a time, with an uncertain air, and then
rung for a light. The first object that met his eyes, when the
servant brought in a lamp, was a small, unopened package, lying on
the table. He knew its contents. What a strong shudder ran through
his frame! Seizing it the instant the attendant left the room, he
flung it through the open window. Then, sinking on his knees, he
thanked God fervently for a timely deliverance.

The fierce struggle with pride was now over. Weak, humbled, and
softened in feeling almost to tears, Markland sat alone, through the
remainder of that evening, with his thoughts reaching forward into
the future, and seeking to discover the paths in which his feet must
walk. For himself he cared not now. Ah! if the cherished ones could
be saved from the consequences of his folly! If he alone were
destined to move in rough and thorny ways! But there was for them no
escape. The paths in which he moved they must move. The cup he had
made bitter for himself would be bitter for them also.

Wretched man! Into what a great deep of misery had he plunged
himself!

CHAPTER XXXIV.

IT was near the close of the fifth day since Mr. Markland left his
home to commence a long journey southward; and yet, no word had come
back from him. He had promised to write from Baltimore, and from
other points on his route, and sufficient time had elapsed for at
least two letters to arrive. A servant, who had been sent to the
city post-office, had returned without bringing any word from the
absent one; and Mrs. Markland, with Fanny by her side, was sitting
near a window sad and silent.

Just one year has passed since their introduction to the reader. But
what a change one year has wrought! The heart's bright sunshine
rested then on every object. Woodbine Lodge was then a paradise.
Now, there is scarcely a ray of this warm sunshine. Yet there had
been no bereavement--no affliction; nothing that we refer to a
mysterious Providence. No,--but the tempter was admitted. He came
with specious words and deceiving pretences. He vailed the present
good, and magnified the worth of things possessing no power to
satisfy the heart. Too surely has he succeeded in the accomplishment
of his evil work.

At the time of the reader's introduction to Woodbine Lodge, a bright
day was going down in beauty; and there was not a pulse in nature
that did not beat in unison with the hearts of i