The fierce struggle with pride was now over. Weak, humbled, and
softened in feeling almost to tears, Markland sat alone, through the
remainder of that evening, with his thoughts reaching forward into
the future, and seeking to discover the paths in which his feet must
walk. For himself he cared not now. Ah! if the cherished ones could
be saved from the consequences of his folly! If he alone were
destined to move in rough and thorny ways! But there was for them no
escape. The paths in which he moved they must move. The cup he had
made bitter for himself would be bitter for them also.
Wretched man! Into what a great deep of misery had he plunged
himself!
CHAPTER XXXIV.
IT was near the close of the fifth day since Mr. Markland left his
home to commence a long journey southward; and yet, no word had come
back from him. He had promised to write from Baltimore, and from
other points on his route, and sufficient time had elapsed for at
least two letters to arrive. A servant, who had been sent to the
city post-office, had returned without bringing any word from the
absent one; and Mrs.
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