None will approve
your discretion more than your parents, I know, when all the grave
reasons for this concealment are disclosed. Dear Fanny! how
ever-present to me you are. It seems, often, as if you were moving
by my side. In lonely moments, how like far off, sweet music, comes
your voice stealing into my heart. Beloved one!--"

A sudden sound of approaching feet caused Fanny to crumple the
letter, scarcely half read, in her hand, and thrust it into her
bosom. Turning towards the point from whence the noise came, she
perceived the form of her mother, who was only a few paces distant.
Mrs. Markland saw the letter in Fanny's hand, and also saw the hasty
motion of concealment. When she entered the summer-house where her
daughter, who had risen up hurriedly, stood in the attitude of one
suddenly alarmed, she marked with deep concern the agitated play of
her countenance, and the half-guilty aversion of her eyes.

"My dear child!" she said, in a low, serious voice, as she laid a
hand upon her, "what am I to understand by the singular change that
has passed over you, and particularly by the strong disturbance of
this moment? Why are you here alone? And why are you so startled at
your mother's appearance?"

Fanny only bowed her face upon her mother's bosom, and, sobbed
violently.

As the wildness of her emotion subsided, Mrs. Markland said:--

"Speak freely to your best friend, my darling child! Hide nothing
from one who loves you better than any human heart can love you."

But Fanny answered not, except by a fresh gush of tears.

"Have you nothing to confide to your mother?" inquired Mrs. Markland
in as calm a voice as she could assume, after waiting long enough
for the heart of her daughter to beat with a more even stroke.

"Nothing," was answered in a voice as calm as that in which the
interrogation was asked.

"Nothing, Fanny? Oh, my child! Do not deceive your mother!"

Fanny drew her slight form up into something of a proud attitude,
and stood for an instant looking at her mother almost defiantly. But
this was only for an instant. For scarcely was the position assumed,
ere she had flung herself forward, again sobbing violently, into her
arms.

But, for all this breaking down of her feelings, Fanny's lips
remained sealed. She was not yet prepared to give up her lover's
secret--and did not do so.

CHAPTER XVIII.

ALL doubt in regard to the presence of Mr. Lyon in the neighborhood,
as affirmed by M