Dear Agnes!--wife of my
heart--what does it mean?"
An answer was on the lip of Mrs. Markland, but words so unlooked
for, swelled, suddenly, the wave of emotion in her heart, and she
could not speak. A few moments her hand trembled on the arm of her
husband. Then it was softly removed, and without a word, she passed
into the house, and going to her own room, shut the door, and sat
down in the darkness to commune with her spirit. And first, there
came a gush of tears. These were for herself. A shadow had suddenly
fallen upon the lovely home where she had hoped to spend all the
days of her life--a shadow from a storm-boding cloud. Even from the
beginning of their wedded life, she had marked in her husband a
defect of character, which, gaining strength, had led to his giving
up business, and their retirement to the country. That defect was
the common one, appertaining to all, a looking away from the present
into the future for the means of enjoyment. In all the years of his
earnest devotion to business, Mr. Markland had kept his eye steadily
fixed upon the object now so completely attained; and much of
present enjoyment had been lost in the eager looking forward for
this coveted time.
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