hwarted. In this there is mercy, and not unkindness;
for the fruition of these desires would often be most exquisite
misery."

"Hark!" exclaimed Fanny, starting up at this moment, and leaning
close to the window. The sound that had fallen upon her ear had also
reached the ears of the mother.

"Oh! it's father!" fell almost wildly from the daughter's lips, and
she sprang out into the hall, and forth to meet him in the drenching
rain. Mrs. Markland could not rise, but sat, nerveless, until the
husband entered the room.

"Oh, Edward! Edward!" she then exclaimed, rising, and staggering
forward to meet him. "Thank our kind Father in heaven that you are
with us again!" And her head sunk upon his bosom, and she felt his
embracing arms drawn tightly around her. How exquisitely happy she
was for the moment! But she was aroused by the exclamation of
Fanny:--

"Oh, father! How pale you look!"

Mrs. Markland raised herself quickly, and gazed into her husband's
face. What a fearful change was there! He was pale and haggard; and
in his bloodshot eyes she read a volume of wretchedness.

"Oh, Edward! what has happened?" she asked, eagerly and tenderly.

"More than I dare tell you!" he replied, in a voice full of despair.

"Perhaps I can divine the worst."

Markland had turned his face partly away, that he might conceal its
expression. But the unexpected tone in which this sentence was
uttered caused him to look back quickly. There was no foreboding
fear in the countenance of his wife. She had spoken firmly--almost
cheerfully.

"The worst? Dear Agnes!" he said, with deep anguish in his voice.
"It has not entered into your imagination to conceive the worst!"

"All is lost!" she answered, calmly.

"All," he replied, "but honour, and a heart yet brave enough and
strong enough to battle with the world for the sake of its beloved
ones."

Mrs. Markland hid her face on the breast of her husband, and stood,
for some minutes, silent. Fanny approached her father, and laid her
head against him.

"All this does not appal me," said Mrs. Markland, and she looked up
and smiled faintly through tears that could not be repressed.

"Oh, Agnes! Agnes! can you bear the thought of being driven out from
this Eden?"

"Its beauty has already faded," was the quiet answer. "If it is ours
no longer, we must seek another home. And home, you know, dear
Edward, is where the heart is, and the loved ones dwell."

But not so calmly could Fanny be