Late on the following day, Mr. Markland arrived from New York.  Eager as all had been for his return, there was something of embarrassment in the meeting.  The light-hearted gladness with which every one welcomed him, even after the briefest absence, was not apparent now.  In the deep, calm eyes of his wife, as he looked lovingly into them, he saw the shadow of an unquiet spirit.  And the tears which no effort of self-control could keep back from Fanny’s cheeks, as she caught his hand eagerly, and hid her face on his breast, answered too surely the question he most desired to ask.  It was plain to him that Mr. Lyon’s letter had found its way into her hands.

“I wish it had not been so!” was the involuntary mental ejaculation.  A sigh parted his lips—­a sigh that only the quick ears of his wife perceived, and only her heart echoed.

During the short time the family were together that evening, Mr. Markland noticed in Fanny something that gave him concern.  Her eyes always fell instantly when he looked at her, and she seemed sedulously to avoid his gaze.  If he spoke to her, the colour mounted to her face, and she seemed strangely embarrassed.  The fact of her having received a letter from Mr. Lyon, the contents of which he knew, as it came open in one received by himself from that gentleman, was not a sufficient explanation of so entire a change in her deportment.

Mr. Markland sought the earliest opportunity to confer with his wife on the subject of Fanny’s altered state of mind, and the causes leading thereto; but the conference did not result in much that was satisfactory to either of them.

“Have you said any thing to her about Mr. Lyon?” asked Mr. Markland.

“Very little,” was answered.  “She thought it would only be courteous to reply to his letter; but I told her that, if he were a true man, and had a genuine respect for her, he would not wish to draw her into a correspondence on so slight an acquaintance; and that the only right manner of response was through you.”

“Through me!”

Yes.  Your acknowledgment, in Fanny’s name, when you are writing to Mr. Lyon, will be all that he has a right to expect, and all that our daughter should be permitted to give.”

“But if we restrict her to so cold a response, and that by second-hand, may she not be tempted to write to him without our knowledge?”

“No, Edward.  I will trust her for that,” was the unhesitating answer.

“She is very young,” said Mr. Markland, as if speaking to himself.

“Oh, yes!” quickly returned his wife.  “Years too young for an experience—­or, I might say, a temptation—­like this.  I cannot but feel that, in writing to our child, Mr. Lyon abused the hospitality we extended to him.”

“Is not that a harsh judgment, Agnes?”

“No, Edward.  Fanny is but a child, and Mr. Lyon a man of mature experience.  He knew that she was too young to be approached as he approached her.”