FANNY had not hesitated a moment on the question of communicating to her father the singular occurrence at Mr. Willet’s; and Mr. Markland was prompt not only in writing to two or three of the principal sufferers by Lyon in New York, but in drawing the attention of the police to the stranger who had so boldly made propositions to his daughter.  Two men were engaged to watch all his movements, and on no pretence whatever to lose sight of him.  The New York members of the Company responded instantly to Markland’s suggestion, and one of them came on to confer and act in concert with him.  A letter delivered at the post office to the stranger, it was ascertained, came by way of New Orleans.  A requisition from the governor of New York to deliver up, as a fugitive from justice, the person of Lee Lyon, was next obtained.  All things were thus brought into readiness for action, the purpose being to keep two police officers ever on the track of his accomplice, let him go where he would.  Inquiries were purposely made for this man at the hotel, in order to excite a suspicion of something wrong, and hasten his flight from the city; and when he fled at last, the officers, unknown to him, were in the cars.  The telegraph gave intelligence to the police at New Orleans, and all was in readiness there for the arrival of the party.  How promptly action followed has been seen.  On the day after Lyon’s arrest, he was on his way northward, in custody of two officers, who were already well enough acquainted with his character to be ever on the alert.  Several attempts at escape were made, but they succeeded in delivering him safely in New York, where he was committed to prison.

On the day, and almost at the very hour, when the iron doors closed drearily on the criminal, Fanny Markland was alone with Mr. Willet.  At the earnest desire of Flora, she had gone over to spend the afternoon at Sweetbriar.  The brother came out from the city at dinner-time, and did not return again—­the attractions of his fair guest being more than he could resist.  There had been music and conversation during the afternoon, and all had been done by the family to render the visit of Fanny as agreeable as possible; but she did not seem in as good spirits as usual—­her eyes were dreamy, and her voice had in it a shade of sadness.

Toward evening, she walked out with Flora and her brother.  The conversation turned on the beautiful in nature, and Mr. Willet talked in his earnest way—­every sentence full of poetry to the ears of at least one absorbed listener.  In a pause of the conversation, Flora left them and went back to the house.  For a little while the silence continued, and then Mr. Willet said, in a tone so changed that its echo in the maiden’s heart made every pulse beat quicker,—­

“Fanny, there is one question that I have long desired to ask.”

She lifted her eyes to his face timidly, and looked steadily at him for a few moments; then, as they fell to the ground, she replied—­