University of Virginia Library

19. CHAPTER XIX.

Summer was gone, and the first 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 fondly 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 that she was leaving him for
ever. “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, in 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.” Afterwards

when strangers visited at the house, and marvelled 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 having first visited Niagara. 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 staid 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 any
thing of his with them. “Yes, every thing, every thing,” he
answered.

Soon the steamer was moving proudly over the blue
waters of Lake Erie. 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 o' nights, worryin' about
her. The dogs had howled, the death watches had ticked
in the wall, and every thing had carried on, t'other side up,
ever since she'd been gone. But look, Nancy,” continued
he to his wife, “she's fattin' up right smart. Her journey
has 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 Katy and Aunt
Judy pleased with the present 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 Frankfort were the largest places in
the world? “I s'pose,” said Aunt Katy, “that this New-York
is mighty nigh three times as large as Frankfort?”

“Three times as large!” repeated Fanny. “Why yes,
Katy, forty times as large.”

From that time Aunt Katy looked upon Fanny as one
not long for this world! “Tain't in natur,” said she, “that
she should stay long. Allus was peart like and forrud, and
now has been ridin' in the railroad all over the airth, and
hain't got lost nuther, besides a salin' 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 Bobaway did not fail to ease himself by a round
of sommersets, his usual manner of expressing surprise or
pleasure. At the same time he whispered to Lucy, that “He's
mistaken if Miss Fanny wan't tellin' 'em a stretcher this
time,” for which declaration, Lucy rewarded him with a
smart box on the ear, saying, “Is you no better manners
than to 'cuse white folks of lyin'? Miss Fanny never'd got
as well as she is, if she'd 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 b'lieve 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 an account of her journey, when
Ike entered the room. He had been sent to the post-office,
and now came up to Fanny, saying, “ere, I done got this,

air,” at the same time handing her a letter, which she instantly
saw was from her sister. Eagerly taking it, she said,
“A letter from Julia. I am so delighted. It is a long time
since I have heard from her.” Then 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 own 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 was filled with assurances of love; the
second congratulated Fanny upon her engagement with
Frank, but chided her for suffering Lida Gibson to be the bearer
of the news. “Why did you not write to me yourself?”
said she;—“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 and 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 and 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 probably 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 as 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 reminded him of
his promise not to swear. “I know it,” said he, “I know I
promised not to swar, and for better than two months I hain't
swore, but I can't help it now. And yet I expected it. I
know'd 'twould be so when I let Tempest go to Orleans.
But he'll run himself into a hornet's neast, and I ain't sure
but it's jest the punishment for him.”

“Why, then, do you rave so?” asked Mrs. Middleton.

“Because,” answered her husband, “when I let Tempest
go, I'd no idee Sunshine cared so much for him. If I had,
I'd have slung a halter round Tempest's neck and tied her
up in the hoss barn she likes so well!”

The old man was evidently piqued at Julia's thrust at his
old house. “Fix up! A heap I'll fix up for her to be married,”
continued he.

“Then you intend to give your consent?” said Mrs. Middleton.

“Consent! Who's asked any consent?” replied he,
“and 'tain't likely they will nuther; and if I should refuse,
Tempest wouldn't mind clamberin' out of the chimbly to run
away, and the Doctor has showed himself jest as mean.
No;—he may have her and go to the old boy for all of Josh.
But what's that about this Carmeron. I hope 'tis so, but I'm
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 was impossible 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 a more than
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 of
features, which troubled Mr. Middleton more than a more
violent demonstration of feeling would have done.

The week following the receipt of Julia's letter Mr. Middleton
had business which took him to Frankfort. 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, but in what way he could not tell.

This morning, however, the mystery was explained.
Soon after his appearance on the balcony, Nellie pointed to
a gentleman, who was crossing the street and inquired his
name. On being told, she replied, “He looks very much
like a Mr. Barnard, I used to know years ago in —,”
mentioning the town where she was born.

“Used to know where?” asked Ashton quickly.

Nellie repeated the name and Ashton said, “Why, that's
my native town, and I knew Mr. Barnard well.” Then as

if the light of a sudden revelation fell upon him, he added,
“And your name, too, was Nellie Ashton? I once had a
sister Nellie, on whose rosy cheeks I dropped a tear the
night I ran away to sea. Can it be that you are that
Nellie?”

A few moments more sufficed for them to discover what
we have long surmised, viz., that Henry Ashton and Nellie
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 Nellie 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 overcome 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 rapping at the
door of Mrs. Miller's room. Kate 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 clerks 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,
will see how much of Julia's letter to her sister was true.