University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

It was now the first day of May, and as it was also Fanny's
seventeenth birthday, her school companions determined to
celebrate it by a May party, of which Fanny was unanimously
chosen queen. The fête took place in a handsome
grove, on a hill-side, which overlooks the city of Frankfort.
All of Mr. Miller's pupils were present, together with most
of their parents and many of their friends. Mrs. Miller had
taken great pains that Fanny should be arrayed becomingly
for the occasion, and many and flattering were the compliments
paid to the youthful queen, who indeed looked bewitchingly
beautiful.

Her dress was a white muslin, festooned with wild
flowers, some of which were fastened here and there by a
pearl or brilliant. The gayety of the little party was at its
height, and when Fanny, gracefully kneeling, received upon
her head the crown, and was proclaimed “Queen of the
May,” a strange voice called out in loud musical tones,
“Vive la Reine.” The whole company instantly caught up
the words, and “Long live the Queen,” was echoed and reechoed
on all sides.

When the tumult had somewhat subsided, the eyes of
those present were turned towards the spot whence the
words “Vive la Reine” had proceeded. Leaning against one

of the tall shade trees were two gentlemen, who had joined
them unobserved. The elder of the strangers was a middle-aged
man, in whose piercing black eyes, and dark complexion,
we recognize the Mr. Middleton whom we left with
Dr. Lacey in New Orleans. His companion was many
years younger, and there was something in his appearance
which instantly interested and attracted the notice of strangers.
There was a nobleness in the intellectual cast of his high,
white forehead, round which his rich brown hair lay in thick
masses, as if unwilling to part with the curl which must
have been natural to it in childhood.

No sooner did Kate's eye fall upon the young man, than
she darted forward with a cry of recognition and exclaimed,
“Why, Frank Cameron, how came you here?”

But before he answers Kate's question, we will introduce
him to our readers. Frank Cameron was a cousin of Kate
Wilmot. His father, who was a lawyer by profession, had
amassed a large fortune, on the interest of which he was now
living in elegant style in the city of New-York. Frank, who
was the eldest child, had chosen the profession of his father,
contrary to the wishes of his proud lady mother, who looked
upon all professions as too plebeian to suit her ideas of gentility.
This aristocratic lady had forgotten the time when,
with blue cotton umbrella and thick india-rubbers, she had
plodded through the mud and water of the streets in Albany,
giving music lessons for her own and widowed mother's
maintenance. One of her pupils was Kate Wilmot's mother,
Lucy Cameron. While giving lessons to her, she first met
Lucy's brother, Arthur Cameron, who afterwards became her
husband. He was attracted by her extreme beauty, and his
admiration was increased on learning her praiseworthy efforts
to maintain herself and mother. They were married,
and with increasing years came increasing wealth, until at
length Mr. Cameron was a millionnaire and retired from
business.

As riches increased, so did Mrs. Cameron's proud spirit,
until she came to look upon herself as somewhat above the
common order of her fellow-beings. She endeavored to instil
her ideas of exclusiveness into the minds of her children.
With her daughter Gertrude, she succeeded admirably, and
by the time that young lady had reached her eighteenth
year, she fancied herself a kind of queen, to whom all must
pay homage. But Frank the poor mother found perfectly
incorrigible. He was too much like his father to think himself
better than his neighbor on account of his wealth. Poor
Mrs. Cameron had long given him up, only asking as a favor
that he would not disgrace his family by marrying the
washerwoman's daughter. Frank promised he would not,
unless perchance he should fall in love with her, “And then,”
said he, with a wicked twinkle of his handsome hazel eyes,
“then, my dear Mrs. Cameron, I cannot be answerable for
consequences.”

He had always greatly admired his cousin Kate, and often
horrified his mother by declaring that if Kate were not his
cousin, he would surely marry her. “Thank the Lord, then,
that she is so near a relative! for now you will not stoop to
marry a music teacher,” said Mrs. Cameron.

The old roguish expression danced in Frank's eye, as he
said, “Most noble mother Adelaide, will you tell me whether
it wrenched father's back much, when he stooped to a music
teacher?”

The highly indignant lady was silent, for Frank had a
way of reminding her of the past, which she did not quite
relish; so she let him alone, secretly praying that he would
not make a fool of himself in his choice of a wife. He bade
her be easy on that point, for 'twasn't likely he would ever
marry, for he probably would never find a wife who would
suit him.

Such was Frank Cameron. Business for his father had

taken him to Louisville, and he determined to visit his cousin
Kate, ere he returned home. He took passage in the Blue
Wing, on board of which was Mr. Middleton, who soon
made his acquaintance. As they were bound for the same
place, they kept together, and on reaching Frankfort, went
immediately to Mrs. Crane's, where they were entertained by
Mrs. Carrington, who wondered much who the distinguished
looking strangers could be. Concluding that the older one
must of course be married, she turned her attention to Frank,
who was much amused at her airs and coquettish manners.
He had inquired for Mrs. Miller, and at length Mrs. Carrington
asked if she were an acquaintance of his.

“Yes, ma'am,” answered Frank with great gravity, “she
is my wife's cousin.”

In an instant Mrs. Carrington's coquetry vanished, and
rising upon her dignity, she soon gave the gentlemen directions
where to find the May party. As they were proceeding
thither, Mr. Middleton said, “Why, Cameron, I understood
you to say upon the boat, that you were not married?”

“Neither am I,” answered Frank. “I merely wished to
get a dissolving view of that lady's manœuvres. Besides, I was
actually afraid of being annihilated by her eyes and smiles.
I'll manage to let her know that you are marketable, and
then she'll turn her artillery towards you.”

“But was it quite right,” said Mr. Middleton, “to give
her a wrong impression?”

“No, I suppose not,” answered Frank. “But if I ever
marry, Kate will be my wife's cousin.”

By this time they had reached the entrance of the grove
and caught a sight of the fair queen. “The fates protect me!”
said Frank, suddenly stopping, and planting himself against
a tree. “It would be suicide to advance another step. And
she is your niece, you say. Pray intercede for me, or in less

than a month I shall be making faces through the iron
grating of some mad-house.”

Mr. Middleton did not reply. His eyes were riveted on
Fanny, whose face and figure recalled to his remembrance
his only sister, who was the playmate of his childish years.
Many long years had rolled away, since that bright summer
morning, when with a sad heart he bade adieu to that sister,
who, a young happy bride, was leaving her native land for
a home on a foreign shore. Weeks passed, and there came
intelligence that the ill-fated vessel in which she embarked
was a total wreck. Among the lost were his sister and her
husband, who now slept quietly beneath the billowy surf of
the Atlantic.

Fanny so strongly resembled her aunt, that 'twas not
strange Mr. Middleton for an instant fancied he again looked
on the features of his long lost sister. But the illusion soon
vanished, and when Kate bounded forward and saluted her
cousin, his eye was wandering over the group of young girls
in quest of his other niece. He, however, looked in vain.
Julia was not there. When urged to attend the party, she
had tossed her head in scorn, saying that she unfortunately
had no taste for child's play. She preferred remaining at
home, where she could spend her time more profitably. Oh,
Julia! Julia! it is a pity you did not dare assign your true
reason for absenting yourself from the party. Of this reason
we will speak hereafter. We are not quite through with the
May party.

We left Kate interrogating her cousin as to how he
chanced to be there, and the remainder of the company looking
in wonder upon the strangers, who seemed so suddenly
to have dropped in their midst. After Frank had answered
his cousin's questions, he introduced his companion, and
said, “He has two nieces here, I believe. He has recognized

one of them in your charming Queen. Will you please point
out the other, and then introduce him?”

“I am sorry to say Julia is not present,” answered Kate.
“But come with me, Mr. Middleton,” continued she, “and I
will present you to Fanny.” Then turning to Frank, she added,
“I remember you to be a woman hater, master Frank,
so you can remain where you are.”

“I'd laugh to see myself doing it,” answered Frank, as
he followed his gay cousin to the spot where Fanny was
standing. All eyes were upon them, while Kate introduced
the tall, distinguished looking gentleman to Fanny as her
uncle.

“My uncle!” said Fanny, in some surprise; “My
uncle!”

A slight shade of disappointment was visible on Mr.
Middleton's face, as he took the offered hand of his niece,
but he said, “Yes, your uncle. Did you never hear your
father speak of his brother Bill?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” said Fanny, joyfully. “I do know you
now. You are my uncle William, from the Indies. Father
will be delighted to see you, for he has long feared you were
dead.” At the same time the affectionate girl again took
her uncle's hand and raised it to her lips.

The tears started to Mr. Middleton's eyes, but hastily
dashing them away, he said, “I suppose the fair Queen
Fanny knows that bad bills always return?”

Fanny replied by again kissing the sunburned hand of
her uncle. “King Ferdinand!” thought Frank, “I'd endure
the rack for the sake of being in the old fellow's boots.” Frank
had been standing near Fanny, fixing upon her a gaze so intensely
earnest, that when she at last raised her eyes to his,
she blushed deeply, for there was no mistaking the look of
deep admiration with which he regarded her.

Kate immediately introduced him. Fanny received him

very politely, but said playfully, “I was in hopes, Mr. Cameron,
that you would prove to be my cousin.”

Mr. Middleton instantly answered, “No, dear Fanny, he
is not your cousin, but he seems very desirous of being my
nephew.”

Fanny did not apply this to herself, but answered very
demurely, “I don't know what he'll do, Uncle. You'll have
to talk the matter over with sister Julia, who unfortunately
is not here.”

“You are a modest little puss,” said Mr. Middleton. “But
do you give up every thing so quietly to Julia?”

Fanny answered, somewhat sadly, “I've nothing to
give.”

Here Mr. Miller joined them, and said it was time to
make preparations for returning home. Accordingly in a
short time the company were dispersing. When our party
reached Mrs. Crane's, Fanny went directly to Julia, whom
she found most becomingly dressed, and apparently anxiously
awaiting her return.

That excellent young lady had heard from Mrs. Carrington
of the strangers' visit, and as she was impatient to know
who they were, she had dispatched a negro girl to reconnoitre
and report. The girl soon came back, her eyes projecting
like coffee saucers, and the little braided tags of her
hair seemingly standing upright.

“Oh, Miss Julia!” said she, “that 'ar tall, black man—
no, I ax yer pardon, Miss—that 'ar tall, yaller man, done
shook hands 'long of Miss Fanny, who kissed him, and called
him Uncle William. She said how he done been with the
Injuns.”

“Her Uncle William!” repeated Julia, in amazement.
“And who is the other one? His son?”

“Yes, reckon so,” said the negro. “They done call him
Mr. Camel, or Camlet, or suthin. I tell you he's han'some;

and I reckon he's tuk with Miss Fanny. Jiminy hoecake!
ain't she pooty? She looked a heap han'somer than you—
no, I don't mean so—I axes pardon agin.” And the negro
bobbed out of the door, just in time to dodge a ball of soap,
which Julia hurled at her head.

“It's of no use fretting so,” said Mrs. Carrington, who
was present. “The young man is married, for he spoke of
his wife.”

Julia did not answer, and Mrs. Carrington soon after left
the room. When she was gone, Julia muttered to herself,
“Uncle William, from the Indies; rich as Crœsus, of course.
What a fool I was not to go to the party. Most likely,
Fanny has won his good graces by this time. However,
I'll dress myself and surprise him with my beauty, if nothing
else.”

Accordingly, the next hour was spent in decorating her
person, and when Fanny came for her, she was ready to
make an assault upon the good opinion of her rich India
uncle. Not a thing was out of place, from the shining
braids of her dark hair to the tiny slipper on her delicate
foot.

Fanny's first exclamation on entering the room, was,
“How beautifully you look, Julia! It is exceedingly fortunate
that you are dressed so becomingly; for, will you believe
it, Uncle William is down stairs!”

“Is it possible?” said Julia, affecting much surprise.

“Yes,” answered Fanny. “You know father thinks
him dead. But come, he is anxious to see you.”

Julia arose to go with her sister, and said, “Isn't there
a young man with him?”

“How did you know that?” asked Fanny, in some astonishment.

“I saw them from the window,” was Julia's ready reply.

Fanny did not think of doubting her sister, and she answered,

“It is a Mr. Cameron. He is cousin to Mrs. Miller.”

By this time, they had reached the parlor, which was
open. Here Julia thought proper to be seized with a fit of
modest diffidence, and hesitated a moment before entering
the room. Her uncle, however, immediately came forward,
and relieved her from all embarrassment, by saying, “And
this, I suppose, is Julia. My brother is a happy man to be
father of two such charming girls.”

Julia received him graciously, but rather haughtily offered
him her cold, white hand. “I will not kiss him,” thought
she; “Fanny did that. It's too childish. I'll be more dignified.”

Could she have known the contrast which her uncle was
drawing between her own and Fanny's reception of him, she
would not have felt much flattered; but, before her uncle
had time to say any thing further, Fanny introduced her to
Frank, whose keen eye had read her character at a glance,
and read it aright, too. His ideas and words were after the
following fashion:

“Pshaw! what a bundle of pride and stuck-up-ishness!
She's handsome, though, but isn't to be named the same
day with Fanny.”—“How do you do, Miss Middleton?”—
“What an affected little curtsy!”—“Hope to see you well,
ma'am.”—“I'd laugh to see her trip and fall flat.”

Such were Frank's thoughts while undergoing the ceremony
of an introduction to Julia, who never for a moment
doubted she was making an impression upon the handsome
young stranger, his supposed wife to the contrary notwithstanding.
The introductions being over, Julia seated herself
on the sofa, while Fanny took a seat on a low ottoman near
her uncle, but partially behind him. She had chosen this
place, because she fancied it would screen her somewhat from

Frank's eyes, which she felt, rather than saw, were fixed upon
her constantly.

During the conversation which followed, Julia, as if by
mere accident, mentioned New Orleans. She was anxious
to know whether her uncle saw or heard of Dr. Lacey.
Her curiosity was soon gratified; for, at the mention of New
Orleans, Mr. Middleton, as if suddenly recollecting himself,
said, turning to Fanny, “I saw two of your acquaintances
in New Orleans, and one of them gave me a most glowing
description of you.”

“I wonder if it were a gentleman,” thought Frank.

Julia's thoughts were similar, and she bit her lip, while
Fanny's cheek glowed with unwonted brilliancy, as she
quietly asked, “Pray, who was it, Uncle?”

“It was Miss Woodburn, who praised you so highly,”
answered Mr. Middleton.

Julia immediately asked, “And who was the other acquaintance?”

“Dr. Lacey,” answered her uncle. “I spent three weeks
at his house.”

Without knowing it, Fanny drew nearer to her uncle, and
laid her hand on his. He seemed dearer to her from the
fact that he had spent so much time with one whose image
was ever before her, and whom she vainly fancied she was
trying to forget.

Frank noticed Fanny's manner and interpreted it according
to his fears. “There's mischief here,” thought he. “I
hope this doctor lives in a good locality for yellow fever.”

“Is Dr. Lacey about to be married?” asked Julia.

“Married,” repeated Mr. Middleton; “I should say matrimony
was very far from his thoughts, at present. I fancied
he had met with some disappointment, and I sometimes
feared lest the fair deceitful one were one of my nieces. Can
any one set me right, on the subject?”

Mr. Middleton had no idea how painfully his words
affected her who sat by his side, and looked up so imploringly
in his face, as if begging him to stop. There was an
embarrassing silence, which Julia presently broke, by saying,
“While Dr. Lacey was here, he and Fanny got up a flirtation;
but nothing serious will result from it, I reckon.”

“It's Fanny's own fault, then, I imagine,” said Mr. Middleton,
laying his hand on the head which had drooped
lower and lower, until at last it rested heavily upon his
knee.

Fanny made no reply; but, when she lifted up her head,
there was something so sad in the expression of her face,
that Mr. Middleton immediately surmised that there was, or
had been, something between Dr. Lacey and Fanny more
serious than a mere flirtation; so he very kindly changed
the conversation, which now turned upon indifferent subjects,
until the supper bell rang out its summons, when they all
repaired to the dining-room.

At the supper table Mr. Middleton and Frank were introduced
to Mrs. Carrington, Mr. Stanton, and Raymond.
Mrs. Carrington acknowledged her introduction to Cameron
merely by a haughty, disdainful bow. She had learned from
Kate that he was not married; and, feeling indignant at the
deception he attempted to practise upon her, she resolved to
treat him with contempt. Accordingly, although seated opposite
him, she deigned him neither look nor word, but
divided her time between laughing and coquetting with
Raymond, and trying the power of her charms upon Mr.
Middleton, who, she had been told, was a bachelor, and possessed
of unbounded wealth. With the old Indian, however,
she made but little headway; and Frank was right
when he thought, “You'll get tired of that play, madam;
the game is too old to be caught with chaff.” With Raymond
she succeeded better. He was delighted with her

unusually flattering notice; and ere supper was over, he had,
in Frank's estimation, made a perfect fool of himself.

Frank's attention was, however, soon diverted towards
Mr. Middleton, who said, speaking to Stanton, “Were it not
for your name and glasses, I should address you as Dr. Lacey.
Are you related to him?”

Stanton replied, “Yes, sir; he is my cousin. I think I
must resemble him, as I have been told so, frequently.”

Mr. Middleton then spoke of Dr. Lacey, in the highest
terms of commendation, and concluded his remarks by saying,
“I have recently purchased a residence, near Lake
Pontchartrain, and am beating up recruits to spend the summer
there with me. I am sure of Dr. Lacey, Miss Woodburn,
and her cousin, Miss Mortimer. My nieces I shall take
back with me, any way; and shall be happy to prevail on
you, Mr. Stanton, to accompany me also.”

Stanton thanked him for his kind invitation, but at the
same time declined it, saying that business would call him
to New-York in the autumn. The deep blush which accompanied
these words caused Raymond to burst into a
laugh. Mr. Middleton looked inquiringly at him, and he
said, “Pardon me, for laughing; I was thinking of the important
business which calls Bob to New-York.”

“Nothing bad, I hope?” said Mr. Middleton.

“Nothing worse than going for a wife,” answered Raymond.
“He is not suited with Kentucky girls, but must
needs plod back to New-York.”

“If appearances do not deceive, you, at least, seem likely
to be suited by a Kentuckian,” replied Mr. Middleton, at the
same time turning his black eyes on Mrs. Carrington, with
something of a quizzical expression.

Raymond colored. He did not know how this speech
would be received by the fair lady. She soon satisfied him,
however; for tossing her head proudly, she said, “As far

as my experience goes, New-Yorkers are more easily suited
than Kentuckians; at least I find them generally to be exceedingly
disagreeable.”

“I am afraid some of them are so easily suited that they
catch a Tartar sometimes,” said Frank, whose feelings were
roused at hearing this rude speech.

Mrs. Carrington gave him a look which she meant should
say, “I wonder who you think you are. I'd thank you to
mind your business.”

But Frank thought he was minding his business; for he
was looking at Fanny, who had not taken her eyes from her
plate since her uncle had proposed taking herself and Julia
to New Orleans. Her first feeling was one of joy. She
would go, for she would then see Dr. Lacey; but the next
thought was, “No, I will not. He has spurned me, and why
should I put myself in his way?”

Julia's feelings were different. She could scarcely conceal
her delight. Her artful mind took in the future at a
glance. She felt sure that Fanny would not go; but she
would, and could thus make Dr. Lacey believe that she, of
all others, was just suited for him. Here we may as well
give Julia's real reason for absenting herself from the May
party. She had begun to fear that all her fine scheming
might come to nought; for in all probability Dr. Lacey
would not return to Kentucky in a long time. What could
she do? She would write him a letter in her own name.
In it she would modestly express her opinion of Fanny's
conduct; sympathize with him in his disappointment, and
end by inviting him to Frankfort, saying she hoped he would
not absent himself from his friends on Fanny's account; for
there were many who would welcome him back to Kentucky
with pleasure. It was for the sake of manufacturing this
letter that Julia had remained at home. But now there was
no need of sending it, for she was going to New Orleans

herself. Her joy was complete; and from that time she
looked upon Dr. Lacey as belonging exclusively to herself.
She would win him. He would yet be hers.

On returning to the parlor after supper, she seated herself
close to her uncle, upon whom she lavished so many
caresses that he wondered much what had come over her,
and began to think that he was mistaken in supposing her
to be cold-hearted and indifferent to him. As he looked at
her beautiful, animated face, and the sparkling brilliancy of
her eyes, he felt a moment's vanity in thinking how proud
he should be to introduce her as his niece among the fashionables
of New Orleans.

During the evening Mr. Ashton called. He had heard
of the arrival of a Mr. Middleton from the Indies, and he
had his own particular reason for wishing to see him. Soon
after entering the room, he addressed Mr. Middleton, saying,
“Were you in Calcutta twelve years ago?”

“Yes, sir; I was there twenty years ago,” answered Mr.
Middleton.

“Do you remember transacting business with the captain
of the English vessel `Delphine?”'

Mr. Middleton thought a moment, and then answered,
“Yes, I remember that vessel and its captain, well.”

“And do you remember a poor cabin boy, who was sick
and worn out with ship fever?” continued Mr. Ashton.

“Oh, yes, yes; I remember him well,” said Mr. Middleton.
“I had him removed to my own house, and nursed
him until he was nearly well; and then, he one night ran
away from me. I have never heard from him since; but
there was an American vessel anchored near the shore, and
I always supposed he went on board and sailed for home.
I would give much to know what became of him.”

“He stands before you,” said Mr. Ashton, rising and
grasping Mr. Middleton's hand. “He is here to thank you

for your kindness, and is both able and willing to repay you
for the care you took of him who was alone and friendless
in a distant land.”

“Can it be,” said Mr. Middleton, with much emotion,
“that you really are Henry Ashton? I should never have
recognized you.”

“I presume not,” answered Ashton. “Twelve years have
transformed the pale, emaciated youth into the tall, full-grown
man. But I should have known you any where.”

Here Raymond called out, “Why, Ashton, have you
been to the Indies? Why did you never tell us?”

“Because,” replied Ashton, “there was so much of home-sickness
and suffering attending that voyage to India, that I
never like to speak of it.” Then turning to Mr. Middleton,
he said, “I have met your brother often, but never suspected
him to be a relative of yours. Have you seen him
yet?”

“I have not,” answered Mr. Middleton. “I intend visiting
him to-morrow, and shall be glad to take as many of
you with me as are willing to go. I wish to be introduced
to him as a Mr. Stafford from New Orleans.”

After some further conversation, it was arranged that
Mr. Miller, Ashton, Stanton, Raymond, and Cameron, should
all accompany Mr. Middleton on his projected visit to his
brother. Soon after Mr. Ashton departed for his boarding
place, and the remainder of the company separated for the
night.