"About Mr. Lyon." Mrs. Markland's whole manner changed, her usual quiet aspect giving place to strongly manifested interest. Her eyes, as well as those of her husband, turned to-ward Fanny, who, by partial aversion, sought to hide from close observation her suffused countenance. "What of Mr. Lyon?" asked Mrs. Markland. "At least two persons have affirmed, quite positively, that they saw Mr. Lyon, as well in the city as in this neighbourhood, on the day before yesterday," said Mr. Markland. The colour suddenly receded from the face of his wife, who looked half-frightened at so unexpected an announcement. Fanny turned herself further away from observation. "Saw Mr. Lyon! Can it be possible he did not go South at the time he said that he would leave?" Mrs. Markland's voice was troubled. "He went, of course," was the cheerful, confident answer of Mr. Markland. "You are sure of it?" "Oh, yes!" "How do you explain the mystery, if it may so be called?" "After hours of doubt, perplexity, and uneasiness, I met the man himself." "Not Mr. Lyon?" Fanny started at her father's announcement, and partly turned toward him a face that was now of a pallid hue. "No; not Mr. Lyon," said Mr. Markland, in answer to his wife's ejaculation, "but a person so nearly resembling him, that, for a few moments, even I was deceived." "How singular! Who was the man?" "Our new neighbour, Mr. Willet." "Why, Edward! That is remarkable." "Yes, it is really so. I had just parted from Mr. Allison, who was certain of having seen Mr. Lyon in this neighbourhood, on the day before yesterday, when I met Mr. Willet. I can assure you that I was startled when my eyes first rested upon him. For a few moments, pulsation was suspended. A nearer approach corrected my error; and a brief conversation with our new neighbour, gave me a strong prepossession in his favour." Before this sentence was completed, Fanny had arisen and gone quietly from the room. For a few moments after her departure, the father's and mother's eyes rested upon the door through which her graceful form had vanished. Then they looked at each other, sighed, and were silent. The moment Fanny was beyond the observation of her parents, wings seemed added to her feet, and she almost flew to her chamber. "Bless the child! What's the matter? She looks frightened to death!" exclaimed Aunt Grace, who met her on the way, and she followed her quickly. But, when she tried to open the chamber door, she found it locked within. "Fanny! Fanny, child!" She rattled at the lock, as she thus called the name of her niece. But no sound came from within. "Fanny! Fanny!" The sound of feet was on the floor. "Fanny!" "What is wanted, aunt?" said a low, husky voice, close to the door within. It did not seem like the voice of Fanny. "I wish to see you for a few moments. Let me in." "Not now, Aunt Grace. I want to be alone," was answered, in the same altered voice.