" Thus Mr. Markland communed
with himself, walking about alone, near the close of the day
preceding that on which his appointed journey was to begin. "Am I
not acting over again that old folly of the substance and shadow?
Verily, I believe it is so. Ah! will we ever be satisfied with any
achievement in this life? To-morrow I leave all by which I am here
surrounded, and more, a thousand-fold more--my heart's beloved ones;
and for what? To seek the fortune I was mad enough to cast from me
into a great whirlpool, believing that it would be thrown up at my
feet again, with every disk of gold changed into a sparkling
diamond. I have waited eagerly on the shore for the returning tide,
but yet there is no reflux, and now my last hope rests on the
diver's strength and doubtful fortune. I must make the fearful
plunge."
A cold shudder ran through the frame of Mr. Markland, as he
realized, too distinctly, the image he had conjured up. A feeling of
weakness and irresolution succeeded.
"Ah!" he murmured to himself, "if all had not been so blindly cast
upon this venture, I might be willing to wait the issue, providing
for the worst by a new disposition of affairs, and by new efforts
here.
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