"
"Pride!" ejaculated Fanny--and her face, that had flushed, grew pale
again--"pride! Oh, father! how sadly you misjudge your child!
No--no. I was for months in the blinding mazes of a delicious dream;
but I am awake now--fully awake, and older--how much older it makes
me shudder to think--than I was when lulled into slumber by melodies
so new, and wild, and sweet, that it seemed as if I had entered
another state of existence. Yes, father, I am awake now; startled
suddenly from visions of joy and beauty into icy realities, like
thousands of other dreamers around me. Pride? Oh, my father!"
And Fanny laid her head down upon the breast of her parent, and wept
bitterly.
Mr. Markland was at a loss what answer to make. So entire a change
in the feelings of his daughter toward Mr. Lyon was unsuspected, and
he scarcely knew how to explain the fact. Fascinated as she had
been, he had looked for nothing else but a clinging to his image
even in coldness and neglect. That she would seek to obliterate that
image from her heart, as an evil thing, was something he had not for
an instant expected.
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