Lyon had made
advances toward her daughter--yet far too young to have her mind
bewildered by love's mazy dream--absent from her mind. It haunted
even her sleeping hours. And the more she thought of it, the more
deeply it disturbed her. As an interesting, and even brilliant,
companion, she had enjoyed his society. With more than usual
interest had she listened to his varied descriptions of personages,
places, and events; and she had felt more than a common admiration
for his high mental accomplishments. But, whenever she imagined him
the husband of her pure-hearted child, it seemed as if a heavy hand
lay upon her bosom, repressing even respiration itself.
Enough was crowding into the mind of this excellent woman to drive
slumber from her eyelids. The room adjoining was occupied by Fanny,
and, as the communicating door stood open, she was aware that the
sleep of her child was not sound. Every now and then she turned
restlessly in her bed; and sometimes muttered incoherently. Several
times did Mrs. Markland raise herself and lean upon her elbow, in a
listening attitude, as words, distinctly spoken, fell from the lips
of her daughter.
Pages:
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125