CHAPTER XXII.
"IT must be done this evening, Fanny," said Mrs.Markland, firmly.
"The week has expired." "Wait until to-morrow, dear mother," was urged in a manner that was almost imploring.
"My promise was for one week.

Even against my own clear convictions of right, have I kept it.

This evening, your father must know all." Fanny buried her face, in her hands and wept violently.

The trial and conflict of that week were, to Mrs.Markland, the severest, perhaps, of her whole life.

Never before had her mind been in so confused a state; never had the way of duty seemed so difficult to find.