 CHAPTER XVIII. FANNY WELCOMED BY MISSES CAMERON Contrary to his first intention, Stanton concluded to come north in July. He had, of course, learned from Nellie that her mysterious guardian had proved to be Judge Fulton, his sister's husband. And more recently she had written to him of Judge Fulton's removal to New York City. Mr. Miller was apprised of Stanton's return by a letter in which he was also informed that the wedding would take place in Grace Church on the morning of the 22nd. Not long after there came invitations for himself, wife, and Fanny to attend the bridal party at the residence of Judge Fulton and the evening of July 25. Frank, who was also invited, had his own reason for not wishing his mother or sister to see Fanny until they met her at Judge Fulton's. Consequently, he was not sorry when both ladies graciously informed him that Miss Middleton would not be invited by them to visit at their house. Of course, said Mrs. Cameron, we shall invite Kate and her husband and shall be glad to see them. If you choose you can in your own name invite Fanny, but if she knows anything she will not come. Frank knew there was no possible danger of Fanny's accepting an invitation, which came simply from himself, but he did not say so, and next day he started again for his uncle Wilmot's. To his cousin Kate he imparted a knowledge of his mother's and Gertrude's feelings and also told of his own plans. Kate readily fell in with them, and when Frank returned to the city he was accompanied by Mr. Miller, Kate and Fanny, who took rooms at the Aster House. As soon as Mrs. Cameron and Gertrude learned that Kate was in the city they called upon her. Fanny they of course did not see, neither did they mention her name. Kate expected as much, but nevertheless felt vexed, and when they urged her to spend the remainder of her time with them, she replied, I have a young friend from Kentucky with me, and unless you invite her to I do not feel at liberty to accept your polite invitation. In answer to this, Gertrude muttered something about not wishing to enlarge the circle of her acquaintance, while Mrs. Cameron said nothing, and the two ladies soon swept haughtily out of the room. Never mind, said Frank, to whom Kate related her adventure. They will both sing another tune ere long, and he was right, too. The twenty-fifth of July at last arrived. Frank had informed Gertrude that she must look to her father for a bow that evening, as he should be otherwise engaged, so she was not surprised when her brother, long before sunset, left the house all equipped for the party. She well knew where he was going, and for whose society she was deserted. One hour later found her seated in a large arm-chair before the mirror in her dressing-room. Gertrude was a tall, fine-looking girl, but in the expression of her handsome features there was something wanting. She lacked soul, and no one ever looked down the cold, proud face of Gertrude Cameron, without being convinced that she was altogether heartless and selfish. On this occasion, as she sat in the large arm-chair, she said to her waiting maid, I say, Jane, you must do your best tonight to have me splendidly dressed. Yes, ma'am, I understand, said Jane, and she proceeded to bedeck her young mistress with all sorts of binary. Her dress consisted of a rich white satin over which was thrown a skirt of handsomely embroidered lace, all the ornaments of gold and diamonds, for which a place could possibly be found, were heaped upon her, and when her toilet was completed she seemed one gorgeous mass of jewelry. There, that will do, said she, as Jane clasped the last diamond bracelet on her arm. I presume this fanny Middleton has never dreamed of so costly a dress as I shall appear in tonight. Meanwhile, in another part of the city, another toilet was being made, but of a different nature. Kate and Frank both were anxious that for once fanny should deviate from her usually simple style of dress, and adopt something more in keeping with her father's wealth. At first fanny hesitated, but was finally persuaded, and gave Kate permission to select for her anything she chose. As, on the evening of the party, she glanced at the image which her mirror reflected, she was pardonable for feeling a slight thrill of pleasure. Frank was in raptures, declaring nothing had ever been seen in New York so perfectly lovely. And truly fanny was beautiful as she stood there arrayed for the party. She was dressed in a French robe of white tarlatan, embroidered in bouquets of lilies of the valley in silver. A single japonica rested among the curls of her bright hair, while her neck was encircled by a necklace of pearls and costly bracelets of the same clasped her white slender wrists. Why, fanny, said Mr. Miller, how beautiful you look! What would your father say, could he see you now? At the mention of her father's name, the teardrops glistened for a moment in fanny's eye, and she felt how gladly she would have foregone all the expected pleasure of that night, for the pleasure of again seeing her distant father. She, however, dashed the tears away and replied, I fear he would think his sunshine wholly covered up and spoiled by trempary as he calls fashionable dress. Frank noticed her emotion when speaking of her father, and he thought how priceless must be the love of one who's thus so truly honoured her parents. A feeling of sadness was blended with his admiration of fanny, for constantly in his heart was the knowledge that she never would be his. And here Frank showed how truly noble he was, for he could still love and cling to fanny, although he knew that for him there was no hope. Let us now transport our readers to the elegant residence of Judge Fulton, which was situated upon Fifth Avenue. Stanton, with his fair bride, had returned from visiting his parents near Geneva, and now in the large parlours of Judge Fulton they were receiving the congratulations of their friends, whose numbers each moment increased until the rooms were filled to overflowing. Frank and his party had not yet arrived. He designed to be late, for he well knew his mother and sister would not be early, and he wished to give them the full benefit of fanny's introduction into the drawing-room. But a part of his scheme was frustrated, for his mother, who was suffering with a violent headache, was obliged to remain above stairs for a time, and Gertrude alone witnessed her brother's triumph. She was standing near Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, carelessly twirling a costly bouquet, which one of her obsequious bows had given her, when she overheard Nellie say to her husband, I do hope she will come, for I am all impatient to see one whom you have praised until I am half jealous. Gertrude wondered much whom Mrs. Stanton could mean, but her wonder soon ceased, for there was a stirrer at the door. The crowd around it fell back as Frank Cameron walked proudly into the room, bearing upon his arm Fanny Middleton. Her fame had preceded her, for many of those present had learned that a Kentucky bell and heiress was stopping at the aster, and would be present at the party. As she advanced into the room, Gertrude felt, rather than heard, the murmur of admiration which ran round the room, and her quick ear caught the words, Yes, that's she, that's the heiress, that's Miss Middleton from Frankfurt. Gladly would Gertrude have escaped her brother's eye which instantly sought her out, but she felt unable to move and stood watching the animated face and graceful manners of Fanny, who, in being presented to Mrs. Fulton and Stanton, passed near her. Every article of Fanny's dress was noted and an estimate made as to its probable cost. She must be wealthy, thought she, or she could not dress so expensively. Suddenly one of Gertrude's acquaintances touched her elbow and said, Come, Miss Gertrude, to gratify her curiosity and tell us about this Kentucky bell. Of course you know her, as she is attended by your brother. Deeply mortified, Gertrude was obliged to confess that she had no acquaintance with her. That's strange, said the lady. We all suppose she stopped at your father's with your cousin. A new idea entered Gertrude's mind, and instead of replying to this last remark, she said, I shall know her well, though, for Frank has proposed to her. Did she accept him? asked the lady eagerly. Of course, was Gertrude's haughty answer. Do you think he would offer himself unless sure of success? Ten minutes more and dozens of persons were gossiping about the engagement between Frank Cameron and the beautiful Kentucky in. Scores of questions were poured in upon Gertrude relative to her future sister-in-law, but none of them could she answer. Vexed at her own ignorance, she ran upstairs to her mother, whom she told to, come down immediately and see what fools they had made of themselves. Why, what is the matter, child? said Mrs. Cameron, much alarmed at Gertrude's excited looks and manners. All the city is ready to fall down and worship this fanny Middleton whom we've treated with such neglect, said Gertrude, and then she added what was of more consequence than all the rest. Why, mother, she's the most elegantly dressed lady in the room. In a moment Mrs. Cameron was descending the broad staircase. There was the sound of the piano and someone singing. Gertrude pressed forward until she caught sight of the singer, then pulling her mother's sleeve she whispered, This way, mother, that is Miss Middleton playing. Mrs. Cameron's first emotion, unbeholding fanny and the flattering attention she everywhere received, was one of intense mortification, to think she had not been first to notice and chaperone her. I will, however, make all possible amends now, thought she, and finding Frank she desired for herself and Gertrude an introduction to Miss Middleton, but Frank did not feel disposed to grant his mother's request immediately, and he said, Pardon me, mother, but you see Miss Middleton is very much engaged at present with some of her friends, so you must wait a while. Mrs. Cameron was too proud to ask anyone else to introduce her, and it seemed that she and Gertrude were not likely to make fanny's acquaintance at all. Before the close of the party, however, Frank thought proper to introduce them. Mrs. Cameron determined to do her best, and she overwhelmed fanny with so much flattery that the poor girl longed for some way of escape, thinking to herself, is it possible that Frank Cameron's mother is such a silly woman? Once Mrs. Cameron went so far as to hint the probability that Miss Middleton would one day be her daughter. What can she possibly mean, thought fanny, at the same time gracefully excusing herself she ran upstairs after her shawl and veil, as Kate had signified her intention of returning home. But Mrs. Cameron was not to be thus foiled. She started in pursuit, and reaching the bonnet room as soon as fanny insisted that she and Kate should stop with her during the remainder of her stay in the city. As Frank soon appeared, and joined his entreaties with those of his mother, fanny said she would do just as Mrs. Miller thought proper. Kate, who had expected a similar day-new-maw, expressed her perfect willingness to visit at her uncle's. Accordingly, the next morning they left their rooms at the Astor House and repaired to Mrs. Cameron's, where they were most affectionately received by Mrs. Cameron and Gertrude. And now commenced a series of toadiesm which was vastly amusing to their acquaintances, many of whom had witnessed Mrs. Cameron's manner at the party and had since learned a part of the story. It was strange how soon Mrs. Cameron and Gertrude discovered how many fine qualities fanny possessed. Even the odious scarecrow of a father was transformed into an odd old gentleman. And in speaking of him to one of her acquaintances, Mrs. Cameron said, he was a very generous, wealthy, but eccentric old man, and was one of the first citizens in Frankfurt. The good lady forgot that Uncle Joshua did not reside in Frankfurt but twelve miles from that city. Her word, however, was not questioned, for of course she would know all about the family of her son's intended wife. Meanwhile, the report of Frank's engagement was circulated freely and the whole matter would undoubtedly have been arranged, marriage ceremony and all, had not Frank put an end to the matter by utterly denying the story. Some young gentleman were one morning congratulating him on his future prospects and declaring their intention of going to Kentucky, if there were any more fannies there, when Frank asked upon whose authority they were repeating a story for which there was no foundation. Why? answered one of them. My sister heard it from your sister Gertrude. From Gertrude, said Frank an amazement. From Gertrude? Well, I cannot answer for what Gertrude says, but I assure you I am not engaged to Miss Middleton and have never been. This was in the morning, and that evening when Frank entered the sitting-room where his mother and sister were, they beset him to know why he had denied his engagement with Fanny. Because, he said rather indignantly, there is no engagement between us. Oh, Frank, said Gertrude, you told us so. I never told you so, answered he rather warmly. I told you I had proposed, and I did propose, and was refused. But why didn't you tell us, continued Gertrude, because you didn't ask me, replied Frank. You supposed, of course, none could refuse me, so jumped at conclusions and have got yourself into a fine spot. There was no need of telling this, for Mrs. Cameron readily sought, and went off into a fit of hysterics while Gertrude burst into tears. What a strange girl you are, said Frank. Once you cried because you thought I was engaged to Fanny, and now you cry because I am not. So saying he gave a low-mocking whistle and left his mother and sister to console themselves as best they could. We will not weary the reader by repeating the conversation between Gertrude and her mother. We will only say that Mrs. Cameron decided to go as soon as possible to Saratoga. And when once there, said she, I will use all my influence with Miss Middleton. Nay, if necessary I will even beg her to marry Frank, for I know she likes him. Gertrude was delighted with this idea. She had forgotten how determined she once was not to visit Saratoga with Fanny Middleton. Next morning Mrs. Cameron proposed to her guests that as the weather was getting warm they should start directly for the springs. The visitors, of course, could make no objections, and as Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, who were to accompany them, also acquiesced in the plan, two days more found our friends at Saratoga, together with crowds more of the fashionable from the north, south, east, and west. On the first day of their arrival Fanny noticed seated opposite her at the dinner table, a dark-eyed, sprightly-looking girl whose eyes so constantly met hers that at last both Flushed and the stranger girl half smiled. By her side sat a gentleman whom Fanny concluded was the young lady's brother, something in their appearance interested Fanny, and she could not help thinking that they were from the south, that evening as she was walking alone upon the piazza. She was suddenly joined by the unknown lady, who accosted her with, "'Pardon me, ma'am, but am I not speaking to Miss Middleton from Kentucky?' Fanny was too much surprised to answer immediately, but soon recovering her self-possession she answered, "'You are, but I have not the pleasure of knowing you.' "'I presume not,' said the lady, "'We have never met before, and yet I knew you instantly.' "'Knew me? How?' asked Fanny. "'From description,' replied the lady. "'You have been so accurately described to me by our mutual friend Miss Woodburn of New Orleans that I could not mistake you.' "'Florence Woodburn? New Orleans?' exclaimed Fanny. "'And are you from New Orleans, and do you know Florence, and have you seen Julia?' "'To all these questions the stranger answered yes, continuing. "'And now let me introduce myself. I am Lita Gibson, but I might as well be John Smith or any idea my name will convey. However, I am from New Orleans, and know Florence, and your Uncle William well. Just before I left the city, I made your sister's acquaintance. When she learned I was coming this way, she said I might possibly see you, and made me the bearer of many messages of love.' Fanny had never heard of Lita Gibson, but it was sufficient that she knew her uncle and Julia, so her hand was immediately offered, and the remainder of the evening the two young girls promenaded the piazza arm in arm, talking of their distant homes and absent friends. "'Where did you see Julia?' asked Fanny. "'Your Uncle's house was not quite ready. Consequently he and Julia were spending a few days at the residence of Dr. Lacey,' answered Lita. "'Dr. Lacey?' said Fanny in some surprise. "'Julia at Dr. Lacey's.' "'Yes, why not?' said Lita, laughing merrily at Fanny's manner. "'There's nothing improper about that, for Dr. Lacey's father was then absent, and his mother for the time stayed with her son. I fancied it was not at all unpleasant, either, to Dr. Lacey or Julia, that they were thus thrown together, and I should not wonder if the doctor should one day call you sister.' Lita Gibson, whom our readers will recollect as having met at Mabel Mortimer's party in New Orleans, was a thoughtless, but kind-hearted girl, and never felt happier than when employed in canvassing matches. On the morning when the Cameron party arrived at the Springs she had sent her brother to learn the names of the newcomers. On his return he mentioned Fanny Middleton as being one of the new arrivals, such was not surprising that Lita should so readily recognize her. As days passed on Lita too heard of the supposed engagement between Fanny and Frank Cameron, and for once kept silent upon the subject, at least in Fanny's presence. Deerly as she loved to discuss such matters she felt there was something in the character of her new friend which forbade an approach to anything like jesting about so personal an affair as one's own engagement. She however fully believed the report, for everything she saw tended to confirm it, and she was anxious to return home that she might carry the important news to Julia and Dr. Lacey. Poor Fanny. The clouds were gathering darkly about her, but she, all unconscious of the consequence, talked, laughed, rowed and sang, with Frank, never thinking that she was thus confirming Lita in a belief which would tend to remove Dr. Lacey farther and farther from her. Could Lita have heard a conversation which one evening took place between Mrs. Cameron and Fanny? Different, very different would have been the report which she carried back. One evening as Fanny, Lita and Gertrude were walking upon the piazza, a servant came, saying that Mrs. Cameron desired to see Miss Middleton in her room. Fanny immediately obeyed the summons, and as soon as she was gone Lita laughingly congratulated Gertrude upon the project of having so pleasant a sister. Gertrude smilingly received Miss Gibson's congratulations. For, thought she, even if Fanny does not marry Frank, Miss Gibson will probably never know it as she is to leave in a few days. Let us now with Fanny repair to Mrs. Cameron's room, but not like her wondering why she was sent for. We well know why, and consequently are prepared for the look of mingled indignation and astonishment which appeared on Fanny's face when she learned that Mrs. Cameron was pleading the cause of her son. Fanny answered, Madam, I have always entertained the highest respect for your son, but I must confess it is lessened if it is with his knowledge you are speaking to me. Mrs. Cameron, who had at first intimated that it was Frank's request that she should thus intercede for him, now saw her mistake and veering about declared what was indeed true that Frank was wholly ignorant of the whole, then followed a long eloquent speech in which Mrs. Cameron by turns tried to coax, flatter, impetune, or frighten Fanny into a compliance with her wishes, but Fanny could only repeat her first answer. I cannot, Mrs. Cameron, I cannot marry Frank. I acknowledge that I like him, but only as I would love a brother. Further remonstrance is useless, for I shall never marry him. And why not, asked Mrs. Cameron, do you love another? Are you engaged to another? I cannot answer these questions, said Fanny. Frank knows my reason and has my permission to give it to you. Then rising, she added, I suppose our conference is now ended, and with your leave I will retire. Mrs. Cameron nodded her head in assent, and Fanny immediately left the room. A moment after she quitted the apartment, Gertrude entered, all impatient to know her mother's success. Baffled. Baffled! was Mrs. Cameron's reply to her interrogatories. I can do nothing with her. She is as stubborn as a mule, and we shall either have to conjure up for some reason why the engagement was broken off, or else run the risk of being well laughed at among our circle in New York. A few days after this, Lidda Gibson started for the South, promising Fanny that she would see Julia as soon as possible after her return home. Air-long Mrs. Cameron, too, was seized with a desire to return to the city. The remainder of the party made no objections, and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, Mrs. Cameron, Frank and Gertrude were soon in New York. Soon after their return, Mrs. Cameron said, in speaking of Fanny, that to us quite doubtful whether Frank would marry her or not, she was so young, and had, too, so many suitors in Kentucky that she probably would soon forget him, and for her part she was pleased to have it so. CHAPTER XIX Julia announces her engagement to Dr. Lacey. Cameron was gone, and the bright sunny days of autumn had come. Again in Kate Wilmot's home were tears wept and blessings breathed, as Mr. and Mrs. Wilmot bade farewell to their children, as they affectionately called all three of the individuals who were that morning to start for their home in Kentucky. "'God bless you, Kate, my darling Kate,' said Mrs. Wilmot, as she finally kissed her only child, then turning to Fanny, she said, "'And you, too, my other daughter, you have my love and earnest prayers for your happiness.' Mr. Wilmot could not speak, but his feelings were not less deep as he embraced his child and shook the hands of Mr. Miller and Fanny. Old Hector, too, shared in the general sorrow, but for some undefinable reason he seemed to cling more closely to Fanny. He would look up in her face and howl as if he knew she was leaving him forever. "'Noble Hector,' said Fanny, "'and do you indeed love me so well?' Then kneeling down by him she drew from her neck a tiny locket, and which was a daguerreotype of herself. To this she attached a blue ribbon, which she fastened around Hector's neck, saying, "'I cannot stay with you, Hector, but you shall have my likeness.' Afterward, when strangers visited the house and marveled at Hector's unusual neck gear, they were shown the fair sweet face which looked forth from the golden casing, and were told the story of the young girl, whose presence had been like sunshine in Richard Wilmot's darkened home. Mr. Miller was not willing that Fanny should leave New York without first visiting Niagara Falls. Accordingly, they stopped at the Falls, and were there joined by Mr. and Mrs. Stanton and Frank, the latter of whom was desirous of seeing Fanny as long as possible. He accompanied them to Buffalo, and stayed upon the boat, which was to bear them away, until the last bell rang out its warning. As he was leaving them, Kate playfully asked if they were taking anything of his with them. "'Yes, everything, everything,' he answered. Soon the steamer was moving proudly over the blue waters of Lake Geary. On the upper deck our Kentucky friends were waving their handkerchiefs to Frank, who stood upon the wharf as long as one bright-haired girl could be distinguished by the light of the harvest moon, whose rays fell calmly upon the placid waters. In a few days Mr. Middleton again folded to his bosom his sunshine, now more precious than ever, because, as he said, he'd lain awake a heap of nights worrying about her. The dogs had howled, the death-watches had ticked on the wall, and everything had carried on to other side up, ever since she'd been gone. "'But look, Nancy,' he continued to his wife. "'She's fattened up bright smart. Her journey's done her a heap of good, and I'm glad I let her go.' The blacks now crowded round, delighted to welcome home their young mistress, who had a kind word and some little gift for each. Particularly were Aunt Katie and Aunt Judy pleased with the presence of a tasty lace cap, whose value was greatly increased from the fact that they were bought in New York City. In these simple creatures' estimation, New York and Frankfurt were the largest places in the world. "'I suppose,' said Aunt Katie, that this New York is mighty nigh three times as large as Frankfurt. "'Three times as large,' repeated Fanny. "'Why, yes, Katie, forty times as large.' From that time Aunt Katie looked upon Fanny as one not long for this world. "'Tanked in nature,' said she, that she should stay long. Allus was pert like and forehead, and now has been riding in the railroad all over the earth, and Hink got lost nother, besides a sailin' along in the steam engine over the salt water. It was indeed marvellous how much Fanny had seen, and when she came to tell the wonder-stricken negroes of the cataract of Niagara, their amazement knew no bounds. Our friend Bob-Away did not fail to ease himself by a round of somersaults, his usual manner of expressing surprise or pleasure. At the same time he whispered to Lucy that, "'He's mistaken if Miss Fanny want tellin' him a stretcher this time.' For which declaration Lucy rewarded him with a smart box on the ear, saying, "'Is you know better manners than to cues white folks a lion?' Miss Fanny never'd got as well as she is if she's picked up a mess of lies to tell us. Fanny's health was indeed much improved, and for a day or two after her return home she bounded about the house and grounds as lightly and merrily as she had done in childhood. Mr. Middleton noticed the change and was delighted. "'I believe she's forgettin' that paltry doctor,' said he, but he was wrong. The third day after her return she was sitting with her parents, relating to them in account of her journey when Ike entered the room. He had been sent to the post-office, and now came up to Fanny saying, "'Here, I done got this air!' At the same time handing her a letter, which she instantly saw was from her sister. "'Eagerly takin' it,' she said, "'A letter from Julia. I am delighted. It is a long time since I've heard from her.' And quickly breaking the seal she commenced reading it. Gradually as she read, there stole over her face a strange expression. It was a look of despair, of hope, utterly crushed. But she finished the letter, and then mechanically passing it to her father, she said, "'Read it. It concerns us all.' And then rising she went to her room, leaving her father to read and swear over Julia's letter at his leisure. That he did so no one will doubt when they learn its contents. The first page contained assurances of love. The second congratulated Fanny upon her engagement with Frank, but chided her for suffering little Gibson to be the bearer of the news. "'Why did you not write to me yourself?' She said. "'That is the way I shall do, and now to prove my words you will see how confiding I am.' Then followed the intelligence that Dr. Lacey had the night before offered his heart in hand and, of course, had been accepted. "'You will not wonder at it?' She wrote. "'For you know how much I have always loved him. I was, however, greatly surprised when he told me he always preferred me to you, but was prevented from telling me so by my silly engagement with Mr. Wilmot in my supposed affection for him.' The letter ended by saying that Dr. Lacey would accompany her home some time during the latter part of October, when their marriage would take place. There was also a p.s., in which Julia wrote, "'Do fan use your influence with the old man, and make him fix up the infernal old air-castle. I'd as soon be married in the horse-barn is there.' This, then, was the letter which affected Fanny so, and called all of Uncle Joshua's biggest oaths into use. Mrs. Middleton tried to calm her husband and remind him of his promise not to swear. "'I know it,' said he. "'I know I promise not to swear, and for better than two months I hate swore, but I can't help it now. And yet I expected it. I know it would be so when I let Tempest go to New Orleans. But he'll run himself into a hornet's nest, and I ain't sure, but it's just the punishment for him. "'Why, then, do you rave so?' asked Mrs. Middleton. "'Because,' answered her husband, "'when I let Tempest go, I'd know I'd dee Sunshine cared so much for him. If I had, I'd have stung a halter round Tempest's neck and tied her up in the horse-barn she liked so well.' The old man was evidently peaked at Julia's thrust at the old house. "'Fix up! A heap I'll fix up for her to be married,' continued he. "'Then you'll give your consent,' said Mrs. Middleton. "'Consent?' "'Who's asked any consent?' replied he. "'And taint likely they will nether. And if I should refuse, Tempest wouldn't mind clambering out of the chimney to run away, and the doctor has showed himself just as mean.' "'No. He may have her, and go to the old boy for all of Josh.' "'But what's this about Cameron?' "'I hope to so, but I mighty feared it ain't. Sunshine can't love two at a time.' While Mr. Middleton was thus expending his fury, Fanny was alone in her room, struggling hard to subdue the bitter feelings, which were rising in her heart. Until now she had not been aware how much she loved Dr. Lacey. True, she had said it wasn't possible she could ever marry him, and she had believed she was trying to forget him. But ever in her heart she had, perhaps unconsciously, cherished a half-formed belief that all would yet be well, and when she refused the noble, generous heart which Frank Cameron laid at her feet it was with a vague hope that Dr. Lacey would yet be hers. But now every hope was gone. "'There is nothing left for me,' said Fanny. "'But woe! Woe!' Twas fearful, the tide of sorrow which swept over the young girl, but amid the wild storm of passion came the echo of a still small voice, whispering of one who loves with more than an earthly love, who never proves faithless, never fails. Fanny listened to the spirit's pleadings, and resolved that henceforth she would seek to place her affections where there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. The whirlwind of excitement passed over, leaving no trace to mark its passage, save a fixed calm expression which a more violent demonstration of feeling would not have done. The week following the receipt of Julia's letter, Mr. Middleton had business which took him to Frankfurt. Fanny accompanied him, and remained several days. The morning after her arrival she and Mr. Stanton were walking upon the upper balcony at Mrs. Crane's when they were joined by Ashton, who had returned from New Orleans a few days before. He had always been a frequent visitor there, but since his return his visits had been more frequent and of longer duration. There was to him something very fascinating about Stanton's fair bride, and yet he always felt uneasy when with her, for her manners and appearance reminded him of the past. This morning, however, the mystery was explained, but in what way he could not tell. Soon after he appeared on the balcony, Nelly pointed to a gentleman who was crossing the street and inquired his name. Upon being told, she replied, He looks very much like a Mr. Bernard I used to know years ago and— Mentioning the town where she was born, used to know where? Asked Ashton quickly. Nelly repeated the name, and Ashton said, Why, that's my native town, and I knew Mr. Bernard well. Then, as if the light of a sudden revelation fell upon him, he added, And your name, too, was Nelly Ashton. I once had a sister, Nelly, on whose rosy cheeks I dropped a tear the night I ran away to see. Can it be that you are that Nelly? A few moments more suffice them to discover what we had long surmised, viz that Henry Ashton and Nelly Stanton were brother and sister. The surprise and pleasure of their recognition is better imagined than described. We will only say that when Stanton, on his return from the office, stepped out upon the balcony in quest of his wife, he was greatly shocked at beholding her in Ashton's arms, and his amazement was increased when he saw that she not only suffered his caresses, but also returned them in a manner highly displeasing to the young husband. Fanny, however, soon explained all, and Stanton gladly received Ashton as a newly found brother. It is unnecessary for us to repeat what Nelly and her brother had to relate concerning themselves, since the night when Ashton so unceremoniously took leave of his home. With the important points in their history, the reader is already acquainted, so for the present we leave them, while we take a brief glance at Mrs. Carrington. The reader will doubtless think that for once in her life that estimable lady has done a good deed, although her motive was not the best in the world. Before Julia went to New Orleans, Mrs. Carrington so far overcame her dislike as to ask her to write. Julia did not promise to do so, but probably concluded she would, for soon after her arrival in New Orleans she wrote to her a letter in which she hinted at the probable result of her visit. She was then a guest of Dr. Lacey, and she spoke of his attention and politeness in the most extravagant terms. This so provoked Mrs. Carrington that she determined at once to write to Dr. Lacey and give him an insight into Julia's real character. The letter was accordingly written. We must do Mrs. Carrington the justice to say that though her object in writing was purely selfish, she asserted nothing in her letter but what she knew to be strictly true. She was ignorant of Julia's conduct concerning Fanny. Consequently she said nothing upon that head, but she spoke of her generally deceitful character, and mentioned several instances in which she had not hesitated to stoop to the basest falsehood for the accomplishment of her purpose. As she was folding the letter, it occurred to her that by some accident Julia might possibly get hold of it. And then, thought she, she will recognize my handwriting and curiosity will impel her to open the letter after which she wouldn't hesitate a moment to destroy it. The next moment Mrs. Carrington was wrapping at the door of Mrs. Miller's room. She opened it and was greatly surprised at beholding her visitor who seldom came there. Mrs. Carrington, however, smilingly presented her letter to Mr. Miller, saying that she had business with Dr. Lacey, which rendered it necessary for her to write to him, and as she did not care to have the Post Office clerk's gossip about her writing to a gentleman, she wished him to direct it for her. Mr. Miller complied with her request, and the next morning the important document was on its way to New Orleans. As our readers have twice made the voyage of the Mississippi, they will not refuse again to run the risk of its floating snags, sandbars, and boat-races, so stepping on board the same steamer which bears Mrs. Carrington's letter, we will once more visit Louisiana, and stopping with Dr. Lacey, we'll see how much of Julia's letter to her sister was true. CHAPTER XX The first three weeks of Julia's stay in New Orleans were, as we have learned, spent at the house of Dr. Lacey. His mother was present, and although she readily acknowledged the uncommon beauty of her fair visitor, yet from the first she disliked her. The servants too, as if adopting the opinion of their mistress, felt and expressed among themselves an aversion to the evil-eyed lady as they termed Julia. Aunt Dilsie, in particular, soon had her own reason for disliking her. The second day after Julia's arrival, as she was strolling through the yard, she encountered Jackson, a bright little fellow, three years of age, and Aunt Dilsie's only son. Jack, as he was usually called, was amusing himself by seeing how far he could spit. Unfortunately he spit too far, and hit Miss Julia's pink muslin. In an instant her white slender fingers were buried in his wool. His screams soon brought Aunt Dilsie to the rescue. Upon learning the dreadful crime of which Jack had been guilty, she snatched him from Julia's grasp and hurried him into the house without a word. From that time, Dilsie was Julia's sworn enemy, and Jack was taught to make up faces at her whenever he could do so without being discovered. The servants, however, were too well trained to manifest any open disrespect, for they knew she was Marster's guest, and as such was entitled to every possible attention. When first she arrived, Dr. Lacey felt exceedingly uncomfortable, for her presence constantly reminded him of the past, and his reminiscences of Julia were not particularly pleasant. Gradually this feeling wore away, for she appeared greatly changed. There was a softness, a gentleness in her manner, which seemed to Dr. Lacey like fanny, and then her voice too was so like her sister's, that ere long she ceased to be disagreeable to him, and instead of avoiding her society, as at first he had done, he now sought it. Julia saw her advantage and determined to follow it up. Nothing could exceed her extreme amyability and apparent sweetness of disposition. Even Mrs. Lacey was partially deceived, and concluded she had been too hasty in her estimation of Miss Middleton. Still she watched her son's movements narrowly, and hoped he had no intentions of making Julia his wife. She was in New Orleans three weeks before her uncle's house was in readiness, but at the end of that time she, together with Dr. Lacey, Mabel Mortimer, and Florence Woodburn, were about to exchange the heat and dust of the city for a cooler residence near the lake. The day before they left was hot and sultry, and in the morning Julia sought the shade of a large, vine-wreathed summer house, which stood in the garden, near by the tree under which Rondeau had buried his master's letter. One word now about our old friend Rondeau. The buried letter had cost him a world of trouble. He was constantly fearful lest he should be detected. Particularly was he afraid that the author of the letter, failing to receive an answer, would write again, and thus he might be exposed. Twice had he dug up the epistle upon occasions when he fancied some one of his master's letters bore a similar superscription. In this way he had become tolerably familiar with Mr. Miller's handwriting, which was rather peculiar, being a large, heavy, black hand. On the morning when Julia was snugly ensconced in the summer house, Rondeau returned from the post-office in great tribulation. What's up now? asked Lephi, whom Rondeau drew aside with a dulfly grave face. Nothing's up, answered Rondeau. But the letter has got to come up. I ain't going to feel like I was a whipped dog any longer. I'll confess all to Marster George, for see here's another like the buried one. So saying he held up Mrs. Carrington's letter on the envelope of which was Mr. Miller's writing. Lephi offered no remonstrance, and as Aunt Dilsey just then screamed for her. Rondeau went alone to the garden and proceeded to disinter the buried document. It was but the work of a moment, and could Julia have been cooling herself in Greenland? As she ought to have been, all would have ended well. And now I suppose some indignant reader will say, Why didn't you put her in Greenland then, or some worse place? But patience, patience, a little longer. You would have us tell things just as they were, I suppose, so we must not only suffer Miss Julia to be in the summer house, but we must also allow her to be a spectator of Rondeau's proceedings. She was greatly surprised when she saw him take from the cigar-box a much soiled, yellowish-looking letter, and she could not help feeling that in some way it concerned herself. Suddenly appearing, she startled Rondeau by saying, What are you doing? Who's is that? Give it to me. Rondeau was anxious to conceal from her his long buried treasure, and he passed her the other. She took it, and recognizing Mr. Miller's writing, knew also that Rondeau had given her the wrong one. So she said in a commanding tone, What does all this mean? Give me the other one immediately. The submissive African, ever obedient to his superiors, handed her the other letter, and then in a few words told his story, and announced his intention of confessing all to his master, at the same time extending his hand to take the letters. But Julia did not mean he should have them, and she said coaxingly, You have done very wrong, Rondeau, and your master will undoubtedly be very angry. But I will take them to him and intercede for you, as you are on the whole a pretty fine fellow. He'll forgive you for me. I know he will. But mind, don't you say anything to him about it until you've seen me again. So saying, she returned to the house, and going to her room bolted the door. After which, breaking the seal of the oldest letter, she deliberately read it through, occasionally uttering a malediction against Mr. Miller, thanking the good luck which brought it to her hands instead of Dr. Lacy's, and making remarks generally. Said she, Mighty good opinion Mr. Quilting-Frames has of me, alluding to Mr. Miller's height. Glad I knew his mind. A heap of good the answer to this did him. And his dull wife, too. Hadn't I better answer it myself? I'd write after this fashion. Mr. Miller, at first I thought I would treat your letter with silent contempt, but recently I have concluded to write and thank you to mind your own business. By order of George Lacey Esquire, Julia Middleton, secretary. Yes, that would serve the meddling old Yankee dictionary right, continued she, and then as her eye fell upon the remaining letter she added, Yes, I'll read this one, too, and see what new thing I'm guilty of. As soon as she broke it open and glanced at the handwriting, she knew it to be from Mrs. Carrington. What now? said she. What has Mrs. Carrington got to say about me? A rapid perusal of the letter showed her what Mrs. Carrington had to say, and she continued her remarks as follows. She has described me quite accurately. I didn't suppose she knew me so well. I wonder who'll write next. It seems everybody is in league against me, but I'm enough for anybody there is in Kentucky. And, she added, in a lower tone, I wouldn't hesitate to try my strength with Satan himself. But even then the dark girl trembled as she thought there was a God whom none could bestand, and who one day would inevitably overtake her. Quickly as possible she drove such unpleasant thoughts from her mind, and then tried to devise the best plan for managing Mrs. Carrington. For Mr. Miller's letter, she said, I care nothing. It was written so long ago that he ceased expecting an answer. But I well know Mrs. Carrington's designs, and she will continue to write until she receives some reply. I have once successfully counterfeited Dr. Lace's handwriting, and can do it again. I'll send her something that will quiet her nerves better than Asapotida. This settled. She went in quest of Rondo, whom she told that, as she had expected, his master was very much displeased. But, said she, after I interceded a while for you, he said he would forgive you, on condition that you were never guilty of the like again, and never mention the subject to him in any way, as it makes him angry to talk about it. To both these conditions Rondo readily agreed, and Julia left him, thinking she was safe in that quarter. Several days after, Mrs. Carrington received a letter which she supposed came from Dr. Lace. In it she was coolly requested not to interfere in other people's matters, and told that any efforts on her part to engraft herself into Dr. Lace's good graces, by malaligning Julia, would be useless, and only served to confirm him in his present low opinion of her, while at the same time it would increase the high estimation in which he held Miss Middleton. After that Mrs. Carrington troubled Dr. Lacey with no more letters, but busied herself in anticipating the capture of a wealthy gentleman, who Ashton told her was, in the course of two or three months, coming on from Charleston, South Carolina. The scene now changes from Dr. Lacey's to the Indian Nest on the Lakeshore. It was a charming spot, and looked as if intended only for the inhabitation of the pure and innocent. Yet even there was crafty ambition and base deceit. Julia was there, eagerly seeking to wind her coils securely around her long watched-for prey. To all eyes but her own she seemed not likely to succeed, for though Dr. Lacey admired her and possibly treated her with more attention than he did either Mabel or Florence, yet his heart still turned to fanny, and for hours he would sit, talking to Julia of her sister, while she schooled herself to answer all his questions without one sign of impatience. Occasionally she would speak to Dr. Lacey of his cousin, young Stanton, and would tell how much pleasure fanny seemed to take in his society. But this produced no effect, for Dr. Lacey had learned from Stanton himself of his approaching marriage with Ms. Ashton. Then Julia pulled another string, and expatiated so largely upon Frank Cameron's sayings and doings that Dr. Lacey became a really uneasy, for recently he had thought seriously of again writing to fanny, and now he determined to do so. Without knowing it, Julia was herself the means of causing this determination to be carried into effect. One night she and Dr. Lacey had been strolling for more than an hour through the many delightful walks in the garden which lay upon the lakeshore. To her great satisfaction, they were entirely alone. For Mr. Middleton and Florence were engaged in their favourite game of chess, while Mabel was eagerly listening to Ashton, who was relating to her some of his India adventures. Mabel had good sense enough to know that her efforts to win Dr. Lacey would be useless, and rather reluctantly she had given him up. Now her eyes grew brighter and her heart beat faster whenever Ashton approached. But fair Mabel, your hopes are all in vain. For Ainez the Spaniard is o'er the sea, and the heart thou wouldst win is not destined for thee. As we have before said, Julia was delighted at having Dr. Lacey thus to herself, and she resolved to increase the favourable impression she knew she had already made upon him. Most admirably was her part played. Only herself could not have been more gentle and agreeable than was Julia, as together with Dr. Lacey she traversed the broad walks of the garden. Sweet and soothing were the words she poured into his ear, occasionally administering a little well-timed flattery, and wishing, as she had once done before to another individual in similar circumstances, that Dr. Lacey had been her brother. He did not, like Mr. Wilmot, follow up this wish by a proposition that as he was not her brother she would accept him for a husband. But he pressed the hand, which with seeming unconsciousness, had been placed on his and said, God knows how ardently I once hoped to be your brother, Julia. And would you then have loved me? asked Julia. Me whom few have ever loved, because they did not know me. Say, would you have loved me as a sister? The face of her who awaited Dr. Lacey's answer was very beautiful, while tears moistened the long eyelashes which veiled the large, bright eyes, and the tones of her voice, now more like fannies than ever, thrilled his every nerve. What wonder, then, that his lips for the first time touched the polished brow of the tempter, as he said? It would be no hard task, Julia, to love you with more than a brother's love. One more well-aimed blow, thought Julia, and I shall have him at my feet, but she was mistaken. Between herself and Dr. Lacey there arose the image of one, the remembrance of whom had a power to prevent the utterance of words which otherwise might have been spoken. Abruptly changing the conversation, he drew her rather reluctantly toward the house, which they reached just in time to hear Florence exclaim as she scattered the chessmen over the floor. Why, Uncle Billy Middleton, what do you mean? Put yourself up to be played for, and then beat me. Shame, shame! What is this all about? asked Dr. Lacey, having some inkling of the truth. Why? answered Florence. You see, Mr. Middleton has conceived a fatherly affection for me, and as he's rather rusty in such matters he could think of no better way of proposing than to put himself up as a prize and tell me if I beat him in playing chess he would be mine, or in other words make me Mrs. Billy Middleton. And who beat? asked Julia. Why, Mr. Middleton was ill-mannered enough to win, said Florence. But then it was such fun to see how desperately he played, for fear I should get him. Now, Dr. Lacey, I suppose you've been proposing to Julia in the real old orthodox way, but that is too common. You must sit down at the chessboard and let Julia play for you, and she pushed them both toward the chairs which she and Mr. Middleton had just vacated. Julia did not refuse, but Dr. Lacey, freeing himself from Florence, said, Excuse me tonight, Miss Woodburn, perhaps at some other time I will comply with your request. Then bowing he left the veranda and went to his own room. When there he strove to recall the events of the evening, and the words he had involuntarily spoken to Julia. Why is it, said he, that I feel so uneasy whenever I am alone with her? Is it that I love her and am afraid I shall tell her so? No, that cannot be. I do not love her. And yet, next to Fanny, she is more agreeable to me than anyone else. Memories of other days came thronging about him, and he then resolved again to write and beseech Fanny at least to grant him her second love, even if her first best affections had been given to another. Suppose she refuses you, seemed whispered in his ear. It must have been some evil spirit which prompted the reply. Then I will marry Julia, as being next and nearest to Fanny. His resolution once taken he proceeded to carry it into effect. The letter was written, and over Dr. Lacey came a sense of relief, a feeling that he had escaped from something, he knew not what. But she, who was upon his track, was more wily, more crafty than anything he had ever imagined. This time, however, her interference was not necessary. For early next morning a carriage drew up in front of the Indian nest, from it sprang Litta Gibson, who had recently returned from New York. She was full of talk, and within an hour after her arrival, the story of Fanny's engagement with Frank Cameron had been repeated in Dr. Lacey's hearing at least three times. It must be true, said Litta. For everyone said so, and their actions proclaimed it, if nothing more. Besides, Mr. Cameron's sister Gertrude herself told me it was so. I am not surprised, said Julia and her uncle both. For Julia's opinion Dr. Lacey possibly might not have cared, but when Mr. Middleton too added his testimony, the matter was settled. The letter was not sent. During the day Litta wondered much why Dr. Lacey stayed so closely in his room. I should think he would roast in there, said she. I do wonder what he is about. I fancy, answered Florence, that he still loves Fanny, and now that she's engaged he's staying alone until he gets his rebellious heart tied up. When Litta afterward learned the truth, she expressed a wish that her tongue might have been cut out ere she had been the bearer of news which caused so much trouble, while Dr. Lacey was securely bolted in his room, nerving himself to bear this fresh disappointment, and striving to drive each thought of Fanny from him. Julia too was alone, and busily engaged. What pain she took to rub and soil those tiny sheets of paper until they assumed a worn and crumpled look. Then dipping her finger in the silver goblet at her side, what perfect tear blotch she made, and how she exalted over the probable success of her morning's work. When it was finished, she placed it in her portfolio, and waited for a favorable opportunity. It came not that day, however, for save at mealtime Dr. Lacey may not his appearance. To Mr. Middleton's inquiries concerning the reason of his seclusion, he replied, that he was busy with important matters, that his abstracted manner led Mr. Middleton to believe what he had long suspected, vis that Dr. Lacey's heart was wholly centered upon Fanny, and that the news of her coming marriage was the cause of his unhappiness. Next morning's sun rose clear and bright, but it brought a day which Dr. Lacey long, long remembered, and which Julia, in the bitterness of her heart, cursed many and many a time. In the early part of the morning, Dr. Lacey wandered down to a small arbor which stood at the foot of the garden. He had not been there long before Julia, too, came tripping down the walk, with her portfolio and drawing-pencil. So absorbed was she in her own thoughts, that she, of course, did not see Dr. Lacey until she had entered the arbor. Then, with a most becoming blush and start, she said, Pray, pardon me for disturbing you. I had no idea you were here. Dr. Lacey, of course, insisted upon her staying. She knew he would, and sitting down, she busied herself in looking over the contents of her portfolio. Suddenly she heaved a deep sigh, and Dr. Lacey looked up just in time to see her wipe something from her eyes, or pretend to, which must have been tears. At the same time she hastily thrust a paper back into her portfolio which she immediately shut. What is the matter? asked Dr. Lacey. For whom was that sigh and those tears? For poor fan, answered Julia. I've accidentally found a part of an old journal which she kept while Mr. Wilmot was living. May I see it? asked Dr. Lacey. Julia seemed at first reluctant, but finally replied. Perhaps it will be as well to let you do so, for you may then judge more kindly of Fanny. And she placed in his hands the soiled sheets of paper which we saw in her room. Leaning back she watched him while he read. As we have as much right to read Fanny's journal as Dr. Lacey, we will here give a few brief extracts. April. Seize your wild beatings, my heart. Mr. Wilmot has promised to Julia. He will never be mine, and not can prevent my loving him. I, for ever and ever. August 1st. I do not believe I am indifferent to Mr. Wilmot, but he will be true to his vows. He will wed Julia, and this doctor that bothers me so. What of him? Why, he is wealthy and high and handsome. But I do not love him. Yet if he offers himself I shall say yes, for as Mrs. Carrington says, he is a great catch. September 5. Mr. Wilmot is dead, and with him died my poor, poor heart. Had he lived he possibly might have turned to me, for Julia knew how much I loved him. Dear generous Julia, how I wish Dr. Lacey would love her, for she is more worthy of him than I am. January 1. Hi-ho! I am engaged to Dr. Lacey. Who would think it? Now I am happy. Oh no. Out in the graveyard lies one who could have made me happy. Would I vest to deceive Dr. Lacey? Why yes, if he has satisfied it is well enough. I am ambitious, and if I can't marry for love I will for money. And then he's given me so beautiful a piano. Oh I hope he'll send me more presents after he gets home. January 15. Dr. Lacey has gone, and I feel relieved. But just think of it. Julia loves him devotedly. I wish he knew it. She has always loved him, and tries to make me do the same. She read me a sermon today two hours long about my duty. Fudge on my duty. As long as I can make Joshua and Dr. Lacey think I'm all sunshine, it's no matter if my love is all moonshine. This journal was interspersed here and there with tears, and was so exact in intimation of Fanny's writing that Dr. Lacey was completely duped. He, however, wondered that Julia should show it to him. She had foreseen this, and as he was reading the last few lines she was looking over her portfolio, suddenly springing up she snatched the paper from his hand saying, Well what have I done? I've shown you the wrong part of the journal. I did not mean you to see this. What shall I do? You'll hate Fanny and despise me. Why despise you? asked Dr. Lacey. Because, replied Julia, you will dislike me for the foolish thing which Fan wrote about me. I could not help her writing it. And is it true? asked Dr. Lacey. Oh you must not ask me that. I can't tell. I shan't tell. And seizing her portfolio Julia started off toward the house, thinking possibly she should be pursued, but she was not. During the reading of the journal Dr. Lacey's heart seemed to go through a benumbing process, which rendered it perfectly pulsed. No emotion either of love or anger did he feel toward Fanny. She was not to him. And how did the knowledge that Julia loved him affect him? Answer any man whether your wounded pride is never soothed by a woman's sympathy and love come in what garb it may. And in Dr. Lacey's case it was a being of wondrous beauty who knew well what she was about, and had marked each inch of ground air she trod upon it. What marvel then that Dr. Lacey turned toward her? You would have done so. I perchance sooner than he did. That evening after supper, as Dr. Lacey was walking upon the baranda, Florence approached him, saying, Come Dr. Lacey, now fulfill your promise of playing with Julia. At the same time leading him toward the place where her companions were seated. Now, said she, placing the chessboard in his hands, I am mistress of ceremonies. We will have a fair understanding. If Julia beats, you shall be hers. If you beat, Mabel and Lidda shall draw cuts for you. Do you agree to it? Certainly, was Dr. Lacey's reply, at the same time seating himself opposite Julia, who gave him a look of searching inquiry. He understood her, and in a low tone answered, I am an earnest. Do your best. And she did her best. With one strong effort of the will, she concentrated all her energies upon that game, which she felt would decide her fate. Dr. Lacey, too, as if resolved to conquer, played most skillfully. The bystanders for a time looked on, and as Lidda noticed the livid hue of Julia's face. She said, Pray, Julia, don't burst a blood vessel, for maybe Dr. Lacey will have you, even if you do not beat. But the ear she addressed was death, saved to the quiet sound of the chessmen. The contest was long and severe. Nine, ten, eleven struck the little clock in the hall. One by one the spectator stole away. Florence's parting words were, If Dr. Lacey beats, be sure and wake us, Julia, so Mabel and Lidda can draw cuts. And now they were alone. Once and only once Julia glanced at the face of her antagonist. It was white and colorless as her own hand, which wandered steadily over the chessboard. The final spell was upon him, and he seemed striving hard to shake it off. T'was all in vain. The little clock struck the hour of midnight. The game was ended. Julia had won. Dr. Lacey was checkmated. With one hand he rapidly swept the board of its occupants, while the other he extended toward Julia, saying, Take it. T'was all I can offer, for you well know I have no heart to give. My hand and name you have won. They are yours. A person less intriguing or determined than Julia would have scorned to receive a hand so coldly offered, but not so with her. She did not expect any protestations of love, for she knew he felt none. Yet she was hardly satisfied, and resolved upon one movement more ere she accepted what she felt was reluctantly given. You are mistaken in me, said she, if you think I will play for a husband, and then expect him to comply with the terms unless he chooses to do so. Dr. Lacey replied, When I consented to play, I knew what I was about, and I knew too that you love me. I cannot say the same to you in return, but you are far from being indifferent to me. When I first knew you I disliked you, for I believed you to be passionate, jealous, and designing. Nor do I think my opinion of you then was wrong, but you are changed, very much changed. Continue to be what you are now, and we may be happy, for I may learn to love you, but never as fondly, as madly as I loved your sister, I as I could love her again. But enough of this. She was false. She deceived me, and now I will wed you. And what said Julia to all this? Why she sat both upright, listening attentively while Dr. Lacey expressed his former and present opinion of her. When he had finished she ventured to acknowledge her love for him, said she had always loved him, and that as his wife she would try to make him happy. Perhaps she was sincere in this, for she did love Dr. Lacey as well as her selfish nature would suffer her to love anyone, and she had resolved, if she ever married him, to do all in her power to atone, if possible, for the past. A half hour longer they conversed of the future, and arranged the plan, which Julia next day wrote to her sister. At last Dr. Lacey exclaimed, Come, Julia, you must go now. It is getting late, for see, pointing to the little clock, but as if astonished at what it had heard, the clock had stopped. CHAPTER XXI STIRING EVENTS Great was Mr. Middleton surprised when informed by Dr. Lacey of his engagement with Julia. Something in his countenance must have betrayed it, for Dr. Lacey said, You seem astonished, sir. Are you displeased? Certainly not. I am glad, answered Mr. Middleton, yet I confess I was surprised, for I had never thought of such a thing. Once I had hoped you would marry Fanny, but since Frank Cameron has rendered that impossible, you cannot do better than take Julia. She is intelligent, accomplished and handsome, and although she has some faults, your influence over her will lead her to correct them. Unlike this was the reception which the intelligence met with from Dr. Lacey's negroes. What are you saying? asked and dizzily of Rondu. He was communicating the important news to Lethy. You'd better ask, replied Rondu. Who do you suppose Master George is going to fetch here to crack our heads for us? Don't know. Miss Mabel maybe, said Aunt Dilsie. No, sir. Miss Mabel is bad enough, but she can't hold a candle to this one. And so Rondu. You don't mean Miss July? shrieked rather than asked Aunt Dilsie. I don't mean nobody else, Mother Dilsie, said Rondu. Up flew Aunt Dilsie's hands in amazement, and rolled her eyes in dismay. I clear thought, she said, if Master George has done made such a fool of himself, I hope she'll pull his bar a heap worse than she did Jax. No danger, but what she will, and yours too, was Rondu's consoling reply. Lord knows, said Aunt Dilsie. First time she sasses me, I'll run away long of Jack and the baby. I'll tie up my new gown and cap in a handkerchief this night. Lethe now proposed that her mother should defer her intended flight until the arrival of the dreaded Julia. While Rondu added, besides Dilsie, if you should run away, your delicate body couldn't get further than the swamp, where you'd go in up to your neck first lunch, and all bastard's horses couldn't draw you out. This allusion to her size changed the current of Aunt Dilsie's wrath, which now turned and spent itself on Rondu. Her impression of Julia, however, never changed, although she was not called upon to run away. Mrs. Lacey too perceived the news of her son's engagement with evident dissatisfaction, but she thought women's grants would be useless, and she kept silent, secretly praying that Julia might prove better than her fears. In due course of time there came from Kentucky a letter of congratulation from Fanny, but she was so unaccustomed to say or write what she did not feel that the letter, so far as congratulations were concerned, was a total failure. She, however, denied her engagement with Frank, and this, if nothing else, was sufficient reason why Julia refused to share it to Dr. Lacey. Julia knew the chain by which she held him was brittle, and might at any time be broken, and it was not strange that she longed for the last days of October, when with Dr. Lacey she would return to Kentucky. They came at last, and one bright, cloudless morning, Uncle Joshua got out his carriage and proceeded to Frankfurt, where, as he had expected, he met Julia and his expected son-in-law. His greeting of the former was kind and fatherly enough, but the moment he saw the letter, he felt, as he afterwards said, an almost uncomfortable desire to flatten his nose, gout his eyes, muck out his teeth, and so forth, which operations would doubtlessly have greatly astonished Dr. Lacey, and given him what almost every man has, this, a most formidable idea of his wife's relations. He, however, restrained his wrath, and when, at a convenient time, Dr. Lacey, with a few ominous homes, and made up coughs, indicated his intention of asking for Julia. Uncle Joshua cut him short by saying, Never mind, I know what you want. You may have her and welcome. I only wish she would make as good a wife as you will, husband. But mind now, when you find out what for a fury you've got, don't come winning round me, for I give you far warning. Here, Dr. Lacey put proper to say that possibly Mr. Middleton did not understand his daughter. Not understand her, repeated Mr. Middleton. What's to hinder? She's my own gal, and I like her well enough. But don't I know she's as fiery as a baker's oven? She is greatly changed, continued Dr. Lacey. Don't you give her credit for that? Changed, replied Mr. Middleton. So, lightning changed. It's one of her tricks. Depend on it, you'll find it so. And Mr. Middleton walked off in search of his promising daughter. Strange as it may seem, the old man's remarks had no other effect on Dr. Lacey, and to cause him to pity Julia, who he fancied was misunderstood and misused. He believed her reformation to be sincere, and could not help feeling that Mr. Middleton was mistaken in his opinion of both his daughters. After trampling all over the house, banging doors and shouting at least a dozen times, oh tempest, what for gracious sakes are you? Mr. Middleton at length found his daughter in Mrs. Miller's room, consulting with Kate about her bridal dress. Kate, too, was wholly deceived by Julia's gentleness and apparent frankness of manner, and readily complied with her request that she should be with her the two days preceding the marriage, for the purpose of assisting in the arrangements of affairs. This being settled, Mr. Middleton and his daughter started for home, which they reached about sunset. Julia leaped gaily from the carriage, and running into the house embraced her mother and received the blacks as affectionately as funny herself could have done. Then, missing her sister, she asked, Where is Fan? Why does she not come to meet us? Mrs. Middleton looked inquiringly at her husband, who replied, No, I ain't told her, just because she didn't ask me. Sunshine is sick, sick in bed, and has had the coat crew three times. Fan is sick, said Julia. Where is she in her room? I will go to her immediately. But in going to Fanny, it was necessary to pass the parlor, and Julia could not resist the temptation to look in and see if the old man had fixed up anything. Oh, how neat! How pleasant! was her first exclamation, and truly the cheerless old room had undergone a great renovation. It had been thoroughly cleaned and repainted. The walls were hung with bright, cheerful-looking paper. A handsome carpet covered the floor, while curtains of corresponding beauty shaded the windows. The furniture, tastefully arranged, was nearly all new, and in the waxen flowers, which filled the vases on the mantelpiece, Julia recognized the handiwork of her sister. Yes, Fanny's love had brought this change. At first, her father had refused to do anything. No, I won't, said he. It's good enough, and if it don't suit Lady Tempest, she can go to the whole barn, that's just fit for him. Then father, said Fanny, Do it for my sake. It would please me to have a pleasant parlor. This was sufficient. A well-filled purse was placed in Fanny's hand, with liberty to do as she pleased. Then, with untiring love, aching heart, and throbbing temples, she worked on day after day until all was completed, parlor, bridal chamber, and all. The hangings and drapery of the latter were as white and pure as was she, who so patiently worked on, while each fresh beauty added to the room, pierced her heart with a deeper anguish, as she thought what and whom it was for. When her mother demonstrated against such unseasoned toil, she would smile as sweet, sad smile, and say, Don't hither me, dear mother, it is all I can do to show my love for Julia, and after I am gone, they will perhaps think more kindly of me, when they know how I worked for them. At last all was done, the finishing stroke was given, and then came a reaction. Fanny took her bed, and her father instantly alarmed, called the nearest physician. Dr. Gordon readily saw that Fanny's disease was in her mind, and in reply to Mrs Middleton's inquiries, he frankly told his opinion, and said that unless the cause of her melancholy could be removed, the consequence might be fatal. Don't hither my husband, said Mrs Middleton, his life is bound up in Fanny, and the day that sees her dead will, I fear, also make me a widow. Accordingly, Mr Middleton was deceived into a belief that Fanny's illness was the result of over exertion, and that she would soon recover. In a day or two she seemed better, but was not able to come downstairs. Instead she had no desire or intention of doing so, until and after the wedding, for she felt she could not, would not, see Dr Lacy for the world. Since the receipt of her sister's letter, she had been given a holier love, a firmer faith, than all on earth can bestow, and she was now under the influence of religion, of lasting true religion. This then was the reason why she welcomed her sister so affectionately, and felt no emotion, either of resentment or anger, toward those who were thus championed on the bleeding fibres of her heart. As Julia kissed the almost transparent brow of her sister, and collapsed her thin, white fingers, tears gathered in her eyes, and she thought, this ruin I have wrought, and for it I must answer. But not long did she ever suffer her conscience to trouble her, and the next hour she was chatting away to Fanny about the preparations for her wedding, which was to take place one week from that day. Fanny listened as one who heard not. She was praying for more grace, more strength, to endure yet a little longer. Slowly to Julia drab the days of that week, while to Fanny they sped on rapid wing, and now everything within and without the house, he took her to the coming event. Servants scattered hither and thither, thinking they were doing it all, while in reality they were doing nothing. Mrs Middleton scolded the blacks, and Uncle Joshua scolded Mrs Middleton, at the same time walking mechanically from the kitchen to the parlor, from the parlor to Fanny's sick room, and from Fanny's sick room back to the kitchen, occasionally kicking from his path some luckless kitten, dog or black baby, which latter set up most lusty yells, just to bury the scene. In the midst of all this, Fanny lay calmly and quietly on her low bed, counting each succeeding son as it rose and set, bringing nearer and nearer a day she so much dreaded. True to her promise, Kate Miller came two days before the wedding. Fanny was asleep when she entered the room to see her, but on the right, wasted face, Kate's tears fell as she said, Oh Fanny, I did not know she was so ill. Mr Middleton, who was present, muttered, Yes, cursed be the one who made her so. He knew not that he cursed his own child. The next day Mr William Middleton arrived, bringing the intelligence that Florence and Mabel had accompanied him, and would next evening be present at the wedding. Slowly the last rays of a bright October sun faded in the west, giving no sign of the stormy day which was to succeed. Long after midnight, a lone watcher sat by the window in Fanny's room, gazing at the stars, which looked so quietly on from their distant homes, and praying not for herself, but for Dr Lacey, that he might be happy with her he had chosen. At last, chilled with the night air, she crept shivering to her pillow, nor woke again until aroused by the fierce moaning of the autumn wind, which shook the casement, and by the sound of the driving rain, which beat against the pain. Yes, the morning which dawned on Julia's bridal day was wild and stormy, but before noon the clouds cleared away, and the afternoon was dry, hot, and oppressive. A precursor to the mightier, and more wrathful storm which followed. About five o'clock there was a noise in the yard, and Kate, who was in Fanny's room, arranging her young friend's hair, looked from the window and said, It is Dr Lacey! Julia has looked for him for more than three hours. Quickly Fanny hurried to the window. She could not meet Dr Lacey face to face, but she wished to look at him once more. She was too late, however. He had entered the house, and soon the sound of his voice reached her ear. He had not been there long, ere he asked for Fanny. On being told she was sick, he seemed rather disturbed. Possibly, however, he felt relieved to note she would not be present when he took upon him vows, which should have been brief to her. Ashton, Florence, and Mabel now arrived, and soon after came Mr and Mrs Stanton, accompanied by Mrs Carrington, who had been invited because it would not do to slight her, and who came because she had a mind too. The ceremony was to take place at seven o'clock, and guests each minute arrived, until the parlour seemed almost full. Alone in her chamber sat Fanny, listening to the sounds of mirth, which braided on her ear. Night, dark, and stormy was gathering over the earth, but her darker night lay round the heart of the young girl, as she watched from her pillow a dense black pile of clouds, which had appeared in the west, and now increased until the whole sky was overspread, as with a pile of darkness, white distant peals of muttered thunder announced the coming storm. And now louder wore the howling wind, and brighter the glaring lightning flashed, while fiercely grew the conflict in Fanny's bosom. Her faith was weak, and well nigh blotted with tears of human weakness, but he, whose power could stay the storm without, could also stir the agony within, and over the troubled waters of the aching heart there fell a peaceful calm. Suddenly the door opened, and a creature of wondrous dazzling beauty appeared. It was Julia in her bridal robe. She would fain have her sister's blessing ere she descended to the parlour. The struggle was over, and the blessing which Fanny gave her sister was sincere. But when Julia asked forgiveness for all the evils she had ever done, the reply was prevented by a crash of thunder, so terrific, that Julia trembled with terror and hastily left the room. In a moment there was a light step upon the stair. Fanny knew it was Dr. Lacy, but he soon returned with Julia, and as they passed her door, she heard the merry laugh of Florence, who was bridesmaid. In an instant they were in the parlour, throughout which a general gloom seemed to rain. Perhaps it was owing to the wildness of the storm, which each moment increased in fury. The bridal party took their places, and Uncle Joshua shut his eyes, while the marriage ceremony commenced. The reader may now accompany me to the border of the Underwood, where stands a low-roofed building, the poverty of Mrs. Dunn. There, in a darkened room, lay the widow's only son, raving in the madness of Delirium. The fever flame burned in each bane, and as he tossed from side to side, he would shriek out, Quick, I tell you, or you are too late! She must not wed him! Don't you know she's doubly, trebly, steeped in guilt? Go quick, I tell you, and stop it! Mrs. Dunn could only weep, for she knew not, dreamed not, what her son could mean. Soon he grew calm, and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, Billy Jeffery, who lived near, was sitting by him. To Mrs. Dunn's delight, Joseph was sane, and calling her to him, he said, Isn't Julian Middleton to be married tonight? She is, answered his mother. At what hour? At seven. What time is it now? Half past six, replied Mrs. Dunn. It must not be, said Joseph, and turning to Bill, he added, Listen, William, to what I have to tell, then speed along on the lightning's wing, and tear her from the altar, take her from his side, I say, and put there the other one, the pale golden-haired one. Then as he noticed the vacant look on Bill's face, he added, Oh no, you can't tell it, you wouldn't understand it. Mother, bring me a pen and some paper. The paper was brought, and as soon as possible Joseph wrote a confession of his own and Julia's guilt. Now Bill, said he, Run for your life, and give this to Dr. Lacy, do it for the sake of Fanny. Bill needed no seton bid in. His obstute intelligence had gathered that in some way Fanny was in danger, and away he flew over bushes, briers, rocks, and ditches, but alas, the way was long and dark, and ere he was aware of it. He was precipitated into one of the sinkholes, which are so common in the limestone soil of Kentucky. The fool sprained his ankle, but gathering himself up, he continued on, slowly and painfully. Meantime Delirium had again pled over Joseph Dunn, and he forgot that he sent Billy, but concluded he must go himself. Watching the time when his mother was from the room, he rose, and flowing on his double down went forth into the storm, and was soon far on his road toward Mr. Middleton. The man of God had scarcely finished a second paragraph of the Episcopal ceremony, be given with, I require and charge you both, etc., when a shriek wild and unearthly and horrid rent the air. It was succeeded by a thunder-crash, so deafening that the ladies paled with terror. The large maple tree, which stood by the front door, and which Julia had called hers, was shivered by lightning, but no one heeded it, for again was heard that fearful manacle shriek, and this time could not be distinguished the sound as of someone who's struggling with the blacks, who were huddled together in the hall. Let me go, I tell you, said the boys, it shall not go on. All eyes turned toward the door, as Joseph Dunn appeared, shouting, Stop it! Stop it! She forged those letters! She break her sister's heart! Stop it, I say! Every person in the room seemed terror-stricken at the wild spectacle he presented. His face, wasted to a mere skeleton, was ghastly white, while his long yellow hair hung in matted locks about his brow, and a look of wild frenzy was in his eye, as darting toward the paralyzed Julia, he seized her as with a lion's grasp, and shook her most furiously. Bill Jeffery was close behind. He had lost his hat, and the rain had soaked his thick hair, until it clung closely to his head, giving him too a strange appearance. Mr. William Middleton now came forward to ask an explanation of Joseph, who chants in to see Bill, said, You've got the letter, my confession, read that, I am too exhausted, and he fell upon the floor. No one noticed him, but all gazed intently at Bill, who drew from his pocket a paper, and presented it to Dr. Lacey. In a calm, clear voice, Dr. Lacey read aloud the confession, in the midst of thunder, lightning, groans, cries and hopes, the latter of which were the spontaneous production of Uncle Joshua, who sat still in his chair, until the confession was read through, then with one bound he reached Julia, and raising her from the floor, said, Speak Satan, and tell if this is true. Julia was overtaken, surrounded on all sides, and there was no way of escape. Mechanically, she answered, I am guilty. While a burst of excruciation ran round the room, a stifled man of agony came from Dr. Lacey's hearted lips, and he asked in a voice which plainly told his suffering, Oh, why was I suffered to go thus far? Why, why didn't no one write? I did, answered Mrs. Miller, and I too, repeated Mrs. Hamilton, but you spurned my letter and treated me with contempt. Never, never, scarcely articulated Dr. Tracey, I never received them, but call Rondu, he must know something of it. Rondu, who had accompanied his master, was called. Explanation followed explanation. Testimony clouded upon testimony, and Julia acknowledged all, until at length Dr. Lacey, fantic with this sense of wrong done him, turned to her and said, Beast woman, why have you done this? Your sin has found you out, ere it was too late, for thank God you are not my wife, nor ever will be. Julia now lost all command of herself, tearing the bridal veil from her brow, she rented in twain, then from her arms she snatched a diamond bracelet, and trampled it under her feet, while a stream of blood issued from her mouth, and stained her white satin dress. A moment more, and she too, was extended on the floor by the side of her ally. Where during this exciting scene was Fanny, the diafoul sounds had reached her ear, and now at the head of the stairs, she listened to the babble, which reigned in the parlour. High above all of the voices, she distinguished her father, who, in his uncontrollable fury, was calling to use all the oaks he had ever heard of, besides manufacturing some expressly for the occasion. Then there was a heavy fall, accompanied by a cry from Mrs Middleton of lift her up, carry her out, don't you see she is dying. Fanny hesitated no longer, but quickly descending the stairs, she forced her way through the blacks into the parlour, where she stood appalled at the scene before her. On the floor lay Julia, who, in a few moments before, stood there represented in beauty. Near her sat the maniac, Joseph Dunn. He had recovered from his painting fit, and was now crouching over the prostate form of Julia, laughing in his delirious glee, as he wiped from her lips the red drops of blood. In a corner of the room, a group had gathered, near an open window, through which they were bearing an intimate object. It was Florence who had fainted, and as it seemed impossible to effect a passage through the hall, so filled was it with terrified servants, they had sought the window as the best means of eagerness. Suddenly, over that excited assembly, there came a deep silence. It was caused by the appearance of Fanny, who, with her loose white muslin wrapper and long curls, which floated over her shoulders, seemed like some being from another world, come to say that storm of passion. Mabel, who was occupied with her cousin, looked back as the car on hush fell upon them, and then and there she first saw Fanny Middleton. The scene was too much for Fanny, and she too would have fainted had not Dr. Lacey caught her in his arms. Clasping her slight form passionately to his bosom, he exclaimed, My own, my Fanny, my wife, for such are you, and such you will be. Mr. William Middleton and Mr. Miller, who were bearing Julia from the room, now passed them. Dr. Lacey glanced once at the corpse-like face over which the heavy braids of long black hair had fallen. Then, with a shudder, he again strained Fanny to his heart, saying, Thank God, thank God I escaped her in time. Then, turning to the minister, who all his time had stood looking on in mute astonishment, he added, in an authoritative manner, Go on with the ceremony, sir, and make her my wife. But a new thought entering his mind, he released Fanny and said, Pardon me, dear Fanny, sorrow has well my bereft me of my senses. In my first joy in finding you innocent, I forgot that you could not be mine, for you belong to another, to Mr. Cameron. Cameron, go to thunder! exclaimed Uncle Joshua, who was still standing near. That's another of tempest's lies. She never was engaged to him, never loved him, or any other mortal man save yourself. Here, Fanny, who it will be remembered, was all this time ignorant of the truth, asked if someone would not explain what she saw and heard. I will, said Dr. Lacey. It is my duty to do so. And he led her to a window, where he hurriedly told her all. Everything which he himself knew, intermingling his words, with so much passionate embraces, that his sanity was much to be doubted. He had scarcely finished his story when Kate approached him, saying, For humanity's sake, Dr. Lacey, if you have any skill, exert it in behalf of Julia, who seems to be dying. Dr. Lacey arose, and winding his arm about Fanny, as if afraid he might lose sight of her, moved toward the room where Julia lay. They had brought her to the bridal chamber, which Fanny had arranged with so much care, and as Dr. Lacey appeared at the door, Uncle Joshua met him and said, I know she served you mean, but I would not have her die if she is my own child, and you must save her if you can. At the same time he pointed to Julia, who lay in the same death-like trance, with the blood still issuing slowly from her livid lips. All that Dr. Lacey could do, he did, but when Dr. Gordon arrived, he gladly gave up his charge to him, and turned his attention toward Fanny, who, overcome by what she had seen and heard, had fainted, and been carried to her own room, where she was surrounded by Mrs. Carrington, Florence, and Mabel. These ladies ran against each other, except the Capole bottle, dropped the lab, and spilled half the cologne, in their serious effort to take care of their location. In their midst of their profusion, Dr. Lacey entered, and they immediately gave up to him the task of restoring her. This he soon did, for it would seem that his very voice had a power to recall Fanny's suspended faculties. Slowly her eyes enclosed, then, as if weirred out, she again closed them, and for a time, slept sweetly, calmly, on Dr. Lacey's bosom. The guests now began to depart, and Bill Jeffery, who had been sent to inform Mrs. Dunn of her son, returned with some of the neighbours, and carried Joseph away, owing to the darkness of the night, the company from Frankfurt remained until morning, but no eyelid closed in sleep. With maternal solitude, Mrs. Middleton sat by the bedside of her daughter Julia, whose eyes opened once, but when seeing Dr. Lacey standing nearby, she closed them again for a shudder, and a faken wail of anguish escaped her. She had ruptured a small blood vessel, but Dr. Gordon said there was no danger if she could be kept quiet for a few days. Uncle Joshua, thus relieved from alarm concerning her, walked back and forth from her room to Fanny's, swearing that he knew the devil was left loose that night for his special benefit, and that he had come up there to see how much of a row he could get up. He succeeded admirally, I think, said Florence, who, having recovered from her first fright, was now ready to extract whatever fun could be gathered from the surrounding circumstances. In the kitchen, the blacks canvassed the matter after their fashion, and Judy lamented because none of the tempting supper in the dining room was touched, while Bob did not fail to turn his usual round of somersaults, thus evincing his joy that so many good things were left for him to eat, because, he said, in course, well, Alice has all that comes off the table. And Katie took occasion to lectured the young black girls on the awful sin of conceit, as she called it, pointing them for an example to Julia, who would most likely have to live an old maid all her days. She couldn't have threatened a worse punishment, for many of the neguses had already their own toughnesses in favour of certain relative boys on their master's plantation, and others adjoining. Wando seemed to think his sympathy was only needed by his young master, whom he looked upon as a much abused man, for at first he had felt great contempt for the old house, fifth master, seventh and all, and had come to the conclusion that they were of no count any help. This opinion would doubtless have been reserved for Luffy's ear, had not at first taken so unexpected a turn. Now, however, Wando felt at liberty to express his mind so freely that I considered it his duty to resent the insult. A regular negro fighting shoot, in which Aunt Katie, who was not very active, was frowned down as she loudly protested, every atom of broth was kicked out of her. The big chicken pyres also turned over into Wando's new hat, greatly to the satisfaction of Tiger and the other dogs, who had mingled in the frass. The riot was finally curled by Mr William Middleton and Dr Lacey, and could John declare in him, wouldn't interfere that night if the niggers all fit till they killed themselves. End of Chapter 21, Recording by Elaine Webb, Visto, England