Chapter XIII

by Mary Jane Holmes

　　LETTERS WRITTEN BUT NEVER RECEIVED

　　In order to keep the threads of our narrative connected, it is necessarythat we go back for a time, and again open the scene in Frankfort, on the24th of March, several days after the party, at which Florence Woodburnmet Fanny Middleton. Seated at her work table, in one of the upper roomsof Mrs. Crane's boarding house, is our old friend, Kate Miller. Herdazzling beauty seems enhanced by the striking contrast between theclearness of her complexion and the sable of her robe.

　　On a low stool, at her feet, sits Fanny. Her head is resting on Mrs.Miller's lap, and she seems to be sleeping. She has been excused fromschool this afternoon, on account of a sick, nervous headache, to whichshe has recently been frequently subject. Finding the solitude of her ownchamber rather irksome, she had sought Mrs. Miller's room, where she wasever a welcome visitor. To Kate she had imparted a knowledge of the letterwhich she supposed Dr. Lacey had written.

　　Mrs. Miller's sympathy for her young friend was as deep and sincere as washer resentment against the supposed author of this letter. As yet, she hadkept Fanny's secret inviolate, and not even her husband had ever suspectedthe cause of Fanny's failing strength. But, this afternoon, as she lookedon the fair girl's sad, white face, which seemed to grow whiter andthinner each day, she felt her heart swell with indignation toward one whohad wrought this fearful change. "Surely," thought she, "if Dr. Laceycould know the almost fatal consequence of his faithlessness he wouldrelent; and he must, he shall know it. I will tell Mr. Miller and he Iknow will write immediately." Then came the thought that she had promisednot to betray Fanny's confidence; but she did not despair of gaining herconsent, that Mr. Miller should also know the secret.

　　For a time Fanny slept on sweetly and quietly; then she moved uneasily inher slumber, and finally awoke.

　　"How is your head now?" asked Mrs. Miller, at the same time smoothing thedisordered ringlets which lay in such profusion over her lap.

　　"Oh, much better," said Fanny. "I had a nice sleep, and so pleasantdreams, too."

　　"Did you dream of him?" asked Mrs. Miller, in a low tone.

　　Quick as thought the crimson tide stained Fanny's cheek and forehead, butshe answered, somewhat bitterly, "Oh, no, no! I never dream of him now,and I am trying hard to forget him. I do not think I love him half as wellnow as I once thought I did."

　　Poor little Fanny! How deceived she was! After a time Mrs. Miller said,"Fanny, Mr. Miller seems very anxious about your altered and languidappearance. May I not tell him the truth? He will sympathize with you astruly as I do; for he feels for you almost the affection of a brother."

　　At first Fanny objected. "I know," said she, "that Mr. Miller would onlythink me a weak, silly girl." Mrs. Miller, however, finally gainedpermission to tell everything to her husband. "I know, though," persistedFanny, "that he will laugh at me. You say he likes me; I know he did once;but since the time when he visited my father's, more than a year ago, hehas not treated me with the same confidence he did before. I never knewthe reason, unless it was that foolish, romping mistake which I made oneafternoon by riding into the schoolhouse!"

　　With many tears and some laughing--for the remembrance of the exploitalways excited her mirth--Fanny told a part of what we already knowconcerning Mr. Miller's visit at her father's the winter previous. Sherelated the adventure of the sled ride, and said that the morning aftershe noticed a change in Mr. Miller's manner toward her. The unsuspectinggirl little thought what was the true reason of that change.

　　While she was yet speaking, Mr. Miller entered the room. On seeing Fannythere, and weeping, he said: "What, Sunshine in tears? That is hardly theremedy I would prescribe for headache. But come, Fanny, tell me what isthe matter."

　　"Oh, I cannot, I cannot!" said Fanny, and again she buried her face inKate's lap.

　　Mr. Miller looked inquiringly at his wife, who had not yet ceased laughingat Fanny's ludicrous description of her sled ride; but overcoming hermerriment, she at length found voice to say, "Fanny is crying because shethinks you do not like her as well as you used to."

　　Kate had never dreamed that her husband had once felt more than abrother's love for the weeping girl before her, and she did not know whatpain her words inflicted on his noble heart. Neither did she think therewas the least ground for Fanny's supposition, and she desired her husbandto say so.

　　"I cannot say so and tell the truth," said Mr. Miller, "but I can assureyou that Bill Jeffrey's sled had nothing to do with it."

　　"What was it then?" asked Kate and Fanny, both in the same breath.

　　Mr. Miller drew Fanny toward him with the freedom of an elder brother,and, in a low, earnest tone, said: "Did nothing else occur during myvisit, which could have changed my opinion of you?"

　　Fanny lifted her large blue eyes to Mr. Miller's face with so truthful,wondering a gaze that he was puzzled. "Can it be," thought he, "that I didnot hear aright, that I was deceived? I will, at least, ask her how shespent that evening," so he said: "Fanny, do you remember where you were,or how you were occupied during the last evening of my stay at yourfather's?"

　　At first Fanny seemed trying to recall the events of that night; then shesaid: "Oh, yes, I remember now perfectly well. You and Mr. Wilmot hadletters to write, and went to your room early, while father and motherwent to one of the neighbors, leaving Julia and me alone in the sittingroom."

　　"Did you both remain in the sitting room during the evening?" continuedMr. Miller.

　　"Yes," said Fanny, "or, that is, I stayed there all the time; but Juliawas gone a long time, and when she returned she would not tell me whereshe had been."

　　"But were not you and Luce in your room at all that evening?" continuedMr. Miller.

　　"Luce!" said Fanny; "I do not remember having seen her once that night;neither was I in my room until bedtime."

　　There was so much frankness and apparent truth in Fanny's face and mannerthat Mr. Miller never for a moment doubted her. His first feeling was oneof intense happiness at finding that Fanny was, indeed, all he had oncefancied her to be. Back through the channels of his heart rolled, for aninstant, the full tide of his once secretly nurtured affection for her. Itwas for an instant, however; for one look at the beautiful Kate convincedhim that the love he once bore the gentle, timid girl at his side wasnought, when compared with the deep, ardent affection which he now feltfor his own cherished wife. "Fanny," said he, "I have wronged you inthought, but never in word or deed, to my knowledge. I was, however,grossly deceived, although I can see no object for the deception."

　　"What can you mean?" asked Kate, rather anxiously. "Do explain yourself,and not deal in mysteries any longer. What dreadful thing did you imagineFanny had done--set the stables on fire, or abused the blacks--which?"

　　Mr. Miller did not immediately answer; and Fanny said: "Come, Mr. Miller,it is not fair to suspect me of evil and not tell what it is. You shouldbe more frank."

　　"I will tell you," said Mr. Miller; and, in as few words as possible herepeated to Fanny the conversation which he had overheard, between Luceand herself, as he supposed.

　　When he finished speaking, both Kate and Fanny were silent for a moment;then Kate said: "It was Julia, I know it was. Did you ever notice how muchalike their voices are? And, besides, I once heard Julia lay a wager withMr. Raymond that she could imitate her sister's voice so exactly that one,not seeing her, would be thoroughly deceived."

　　"Oh, Mrs. Miller," said Fanny, "it cannot be! Why should Julia wish to doso wicked a thing? And yet I now remember that when I was sick, Luce cameto me one night and asked me to forgive her for everything bad she hadever done to me. I assured her I knew of nothing to forgive; and then shecried, and said I did not know all she did about her wickedness. She musthave referred to that night. I can forgive her; for she is a poor ignorantgirl, and much afraid of Julia. But how could my own sister do me so greata wrong, and what could have been her object?"

　　Here Fanny burst into tears, while Kate gave vent to her indignation byexpressing her opinion pretty freely of Miss Julia.

　　"I can see," said she, "what Julia's object was. I fancy she was alwaysfearful lest my brother should like Fanny the best; and she probably tookthis method to make you both think meanly of Fanny."

　　"Your idea is, probably, the correct one," said Mr. Miller, who would haveadded more, but Kate interrupted him by saying, "Yes, I think I understandit all now. Julia is, probably, at the foundation of Dr. Lacey's neglect.Most likely she's been writing him some base falsehood."

　　"Dr. Lacey's neglect!" repeated Mr. Miller. "What do you mean?"

　　Kate commenced an explanation, but Fanny started up, saying: "Please, Mrs.Miller, wait until I am gone."

　　She then quitted the apartment, and sought her own room, of which Juliahad been sole occupant for more than an hour. On her return from schoolthis hopeful young lady was pleased to find her sister absent. Seatingherself near the window, with paper and pencil, she began the compositionof that letter, which, as we have said, widened the breach between Dr.Lacey and Fanny. This unhallowed work cost her a world of pains. Manytimes were the lines crossed out and rewritten, before they quite suitedher. The letter was but half completed, when Fanny was heard coming slowlythrough the upper hall. Springing up, Julia darted through the window outupon the balcony, and by the time Fanny reached the room she was seated atthe furthest end of the veranda, busily engaged with her forgery.

　　When she at last returned to the room, and tried to converse with hersister, she observed that Fanny shrank from her approach and that she hadbeen weeping. In a very ironical tone Julia said, "What now is the matter?I declare, Fan, I believe you are a perfect little simpleton. I wouldn'tbe such a cry baby, anyway; and make so much fuss about onegood-for-nothing doctor."

　　Fanny replied very calmly, and without once taking her eyes from hersister's face, "If you think I have been crying about Dr. Lacey, you aremistaken."

　　"Pray what did you cry for?" said Julia, laughingly. "Did somebody looksideways at you, or omit to call you by some pet baby name?"

　　"I cried," said Fanny, "because I feared you had been acting very wickedlytoward me."

　　In an instant Julia's assurance left her. The bright color forsook hercheek, which became perfectly white. Fanny noticed the change, and itconfirmed her fears. She did not know that the circumstances to which shealluded had long since faded from Julia's memory, and that her presentagitation arose from the fear that she might have been detected in herwork of deception, and that, after all, she might be foiled and entangledin her own meshes. A glance of intense anger flashed from her large blackeye, as she muttered between her closed teeth: "Has the wretch dared tobetray me?"

　　Fanny supposed she referred to Luce; and her first feeling was to save thehelpless servant girl from Julia's displeasure; so she said, "Do notcondemn Luce; she did not tell me. I received my information from ourteacher, Mr. Miller."

　　"Luce! Mr. Miller! What do you mean?" asked Julia, her eyes lessening totheir usual size, and the color again coming to her cheeks and lips. Thissudden change in her sister's appearance puzzled Fanny; but she proceededto relate what she had just heard from Mr. Miller. Julia was so muchrelieved to find her fears unfounded, and her darling secret safe, thatshe burst into a loud laugh, which she continued for some time. Duringthis fit of laughter, she was determining whether it were best to confessthe whole and seem sorry for it, or to strenuously deny it. Finally, shedecided on the former, but resolved not to give the right reason for herconduct; so she said, with an air of great penitence: "Yes, Fanny, I amguilty, and I am glad you know it, too. I have been on the point ofacknowledging it to you many times, but shame kept me silent."

　　"How could you do it, and what did you do it for?" asked Fanny.

　　Julia replied, "Truth compels me to say that I feared your influence overMr. Wilmot. I knew how much he admired amiability in females, and I wishedto make him think you were no more amiable than other people."

　　"And yet you say you never cared for his love," continued Fanny.

　　Miss Julia was getting cornered; but her evil genius did not forsake her,and she answered, "True, I did not care much for him; but I felt flatteredwith his attentions and I ardently desired to have one person prefer me toyou. I know it was wicked in me to do what I did, but you will forgive me,will you not? And I will promise never again to act so deceitfully towardyou."

　　Always sincere in what she said herself, Fanny could not think her sisterotherwise; so her hand was extended in token of forgiveness. Julia tookit, and raising it to her lips, kept it there for an instant, in order toconceal the treacherous smile of exultation which played round her mouth."I shall yet triumph," thought she, and, in the exuberance of her joy, shekissed again the soft hand which she held in her grasp. Could Fanny havelooked into the heart of her sister, and beheld all its dark designs, shewould have fled from her presence as from a poisonous serpent. But, thoughshe was deceived, there was one, the All-seeing One, whose eye was everupon the sinful girl; and though for a while she seemed to prosper, thesame mighty Power so ordered it, that after a time, she who had sown thetempest reaped the whirlwind; and the clouds which hung so heavy and darkaround the pathway of her innocent victim, afterward burst with terrificviolence upon her own head.

　　We will now return to Mrs. Miller, whom we left relating to her husbandthe supposed neglect of Dr. Lacey. She finished her narrative by saying,"I cannot help thinking that by some means, Julia is at the foundation ofall this mischief. You and Dr. Lacey were good friends; suppose you writeto him, and then we shall at least know the truth of the matter."

　　"Yes, I will," said Mr. Miller; "tomorrow."

　　"But why not write tonight?" asked Kate, who was in a hurry.

　　"Because," answered Mr. Miller, "I shall be engaged tonight and tomorrowwill do as well."

　　Kate could not help feeling that, possibly, "tomorrow" might not do aswell; but she said no more on the subject, and waited patiently for themorrow, when, true to his promise, her husband commenced the importantletter. We have said that Mr. Miller had never liked Julia. In thisletter, however, he spoke as favorably of her as he could; but he told howbasely she had once deceived himself and Mr. Wilmot, with regard to Fanny,and also hinted his own and his wife's suspicion, that, in some way orother, Julia was connected with Dr. Lacey's long silence, as well as withthe heartless letter which Fanny had received from New Orleans.

　　"Yes, this will do," said Kate, as she read what her husband had written."But," she added, "I cannot help feeling sorry that it was not sentyesterday."

　　"Oh, Kate," said Mr. Miller, gayly, "your anxiety for Fanny has made younervous, and now you are almost superstitious. One day can make nopossible difference in the result of this letter."

　　Afterward, when it was too late, he learned how much difference the delayof one day caused. By its means, that letter which would have set allright, was sent in the same package with Julia's amiable production, and,as we have seen, was not received by its owner, but was safely stowed awayin a cigar box under ground.

　　Soon after Mr. Miller deposited his letter in the post office, a younggirl, closely veiled, entered the same building, and looked anxiouslyround until her eye fell upon her accomplice, Mr. Dunn. That worthy youngman instantly came forward, grinning and bowing, and almost upsettinganother clerk, who was also hastening to wait upon the beautiful MissMiddleton.

　　"Good morning, Miss Julia!" said Mr. Dunn; "glad to see you. Finemorning."

　　Julia did not deign to reply, for Mr. Dunn's familiarity was exceedinglydisgusting to her. She, however, handed him her letter, which he looked atin some surprise, and said in a low tone, "Is this letter from Fanny, oryou?"

　　"From me; send it," answered Julia, at the same time managing to slip aneagle into the hands of the honest clerk.

　　Leaving the office, the young lady proceeded homeward, thinking toherself, "There, that will settle him, I hope. I am getting onswimmingly."

　　When Mr. Miller entered his room, on his return from the office, Katesaid, "In the course of two weeks, you or Fanny or both, will hear fromDr. Lacey."

　　"Do not be too sanguine, Katy," answered Mr. Miller: "you may bedisappointed."

　　"Well," continued Kate, "if he pays no attention to your letter, I shallbe satisfied that he really is undeserving of Fanny's esteem. I'll nottell her that you have written, for fear of the consequence."

　　So days came and went, week followed week, in rapid succession, until fiveweeks were numbered with the past since Mr. Miller's letter had beendispatched. Kate had waited and watched until even her sanguine nature hadceased to hope; for there had come no tidings from the far off CrescentCity, and both she and her husband had unwillingly come to the conclusionthat Dr. Lacey was really false. Kate manifested her disappointment by anincreased tenderness of manner toward Fanny, whom she sincerely loved, andby a more gracious deportment toward Julia, whom she began to fear she hadwronged by suspecting her of being accessory to Dr. Lacey's conduct.