Chapter XVII

by Mary Jane Holmes

　　FANNY MIDDLETON ARRIVES IN NEW YORK

　　Three weeks after Mr. Middleton's departure for New Orleans, Mr. Miller'sschool closed. Uncle Joshua was present at the examination, andcongratulated himself much because he did not feel at all "stuck up" atseeing both Julia and Fanny acquit themselves so creditably. After theexercises were concluded, he returned with Mr. Miller to Mrs. Crane's.Just before he started for home he drew from his sheepskin pocketbook fivehundred dollars, which he divided equally between his daughters, saying,"Here, gals, I reckon this will be enough to pay for all the furbelowsyou've bought or will want to buy. I'll leave you here the rest of theweek to see to fixin' up your rig, but Saturday I shall send for you."

　　Fanny was surprised at her father's unlooked-for generosity, and thankedhim again and again. Julia was silent, but her face told how vexed anddisappointed she was. As soon as her father was gone, her rage burstforth. "Stingy old thing," said she, "and yet he thinks he's donesomething wonderful. Why, my bill at C----'s already amounts to two hundred,and I want as much more. What I am to do, I don't know."

　　She would have said more, but Fanny quieted her by saying, "Don't talk soabout father, Julia. It was very liberal, and really I do not know what todo with all mine."

　　But we will not continue this conversation. Suffice it to say that whenJulia retired that night, her own money was safe in her purse, and by theside of it lay the hundred dollars she had coaxed from Fanny. As they werepreparing to return home on Saturday, Julia said to her sister, "Fan,don't let father know that you gave me a hundred dollars, for I fear allyour powers of persuasion would be of no avail to stay the storm he wouldconsider it his bounden duty to raise."

　　There was no need of this caution, for Fanny was not one to do a generousact, and then boast of it, neither did her father ask her how she haddisposed of her money. He was satisfied to know that the "four silk gowns"were purchased, as, in his estimation they constituted the essential partof a young lady's wardrobe.

　　Since Fanny had disclosed the heartless desertion of Dr. Lacey, she seemedto be doubly dear to her father; for pity now mingled with the intenselove he always had for his youngest and best-loved daughter. Often duringthe last three days she passed at home prior to her departure for NewYork, he would sit and gaze fondly upon her until the tears would blindhis vision, then springing up, he would pace the floor, impetuouslymuttering, "The scamp--the vagabond--but he'll get his pay fast enough--andI'd pay him, too, if I hadn't promised not to. But 'tain't worth a while,for I reckon 'twould only make her face grow whiter and thinner if I didanything."

　　At length the morning came on which Julia and Fanny were to leave for thefirst time their native state. Side by side near the landing at Frankfortlay the two boats, Blue Wing and Diana. The one was to bear Fanny on herNorthern tour, and the other would convey Julia as far as Louisville onher way South. Mr. Woodburn, who had business in New Orleans, was to takeJulia under his protection.

　　And now but a short time remained ere the Diana would loose her mooringsand be under way. These few moments were moments of sorrow to Mr. and Mrs.Middleton, who had accompanied their daughters to Frankfort. Uncle Joshuaparticularly was much depressed, and scarce took his eyes from histreasure, who might be leaving him forever. In his estimation the far-offNorth was a barren, chilly region, and although he did not quite believehis Fanny would be frozen to death, he could not rid himself of the fearthat something would befall her.

　　"You'll take good keer of her, won't you, Miller?" said he, "and bring hersafely back to us?"

　　Mr. Miller gave the promise, and then observing that there was somethingelse on Mr. Middleton's mind, he said, "What is it, Mr. Middleton? Whatmore do you wish to say?"

　　Mr. Middleton struggled hard with his feelings, and his voice sank to awhisper as he answered, "I wanted to tell you that if--if she should die,bring her home--bring her back; don't leave her there all alone."

　　The old man could say no more, for the bell rang out its last warning. Theparting between Fanny and her parents was a sad one, and even Julia weptas she kissed her sister, and thought it might be for the last time.

　　Soon after the Diana, with its precious freight disappeared from view, Mr.Middleton was called upon to bid another farewell to his eldest daughter."Reckon the old fellow likes one girl better than the other," said abystander, who had witnessed both partings. And yet Mr. Middleton didwell, and his look and manner was very affectionate as he bade Juliagood-bye, and charged her "not to be giddy and act like a fool, nor try tocome it over Dr. Lacey." "Though," thought he, "it'll be sarvin the rascalright if he should have to live with Tempest all his life."

　　It is not our intention at present to follow Julia in her passage to NewOrleans. In another chapter we will take up the subject, and narrate heradventures. Now we prefer going North with the other party, whichconsisted of Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Fanny and Raymond. The latter had, in afit of desperation, determined to quit Frankfort, and go no one knewwhither. He accompanied his friends as far as Cincinnati, and there badethem adieu, saying that they would hear of him again in a way they littledreamed of.

　　Mr. Miller was sorry to part with one who had proved so valuable anassistant in his school, but all his arguments had failed and he wasobliged to give him up, saying, "I hope, Raymond, that all your laudableenterprises may be successful."

　　"I shall succeed," were Raymond's emphatic words; "and she, the haughtywoman, who tried to smile so scornfully when I bade her farewell, will yetbe proud to say she has had a smile from me, a poor school master."

　　"Well, Raymond," said Mr. Miller, "you have my good wishes, and if youever run for President, I'll vote for you. So now good-by."

　　Raymond rung his friend's hand, and then stepped from the cars, which soonrolled heavily from the depot. Faster and faster sped the train on itspathway over streamlet and valley, meadow and woodland, until at last theQueen City, with its numerous spires, was left far behind. From the carwindows Fanny watched the long blue line of hills, which marks theKentucky shore, until they, too, disappeared from view.

　　For a time now we will leave her to the tender mercies of the Ohiorailroad, and a Lake Erie steamer, and hurrying on in advance, we willintroduce the reader to the home where once had sported Richard Wilmot andhis sister Kate. It stood about a half a mile from the pleasant ruralvillage of C----, in the eastern part of New York. The house was large andhandsome, and had about it an air of thrift and neatness, which showed itsowner to be a farmer, who not only understood his business, but alsoattended to it himself. Between the house and the road was a large grassylawn, on which was growing many a tall, stately maple and elm, under whosewide-spreading branches Kate and her brother had often played during thegladsome days of their childhood. A long piazza ran around two sides ofthe building. Upon this piazza the family sitting room opened.

　　Could we have entered that sitting room the day on which our travelersarrived, we should have seen a fine-looking, middle-aged lady, whose formand features would instantly have convinced us that we looked upon themother of Kate. Yes, what Kate Miller is now, her mother was once; buttime and sorrow have made inroads upon her dazzling beauty, and here andthere the once bright locks of auburn are now silvered over, and acrossthe high white brow are drawn many deep-cut lines. Since Kate last saw hermother, these lines have increased, for the bursting heart has swelledwith anguish, and the dark eye has wept bitter tears for the son who diedfar away from his childhood's home. Even now the remembrance of the nobleyouth, who scarce two years ago, left her full of life and health, makesthe tear drop start as she says aloud, "How can I welcome back my darlingKate, and know that he will never come again!"

　　The sound of her voice aroused old Hector, the watchdog, who had beenlying in the sun upon the piazza. Stretching his huge limbs and shakinghis shaggy sides, he stalked into the sitting room, and going up to hismistress laid his head caressingly in her lap. The sight of Hector madeMrs. Wilmot's tears flow afresh, for during many years he had been thefaithful companion of Richard, whose long absence he seemed seriously tomourn. For days and weeks he had watched by the gate, through which he hadseen his young master pass, and when at last the darkness of night forbadea longer watch, he would lay his head on the ground and give vent to hisevident disappointment in a low, mournful howl.

　　Mrs. Wilmot was not superstitious; but when, day after day, the same sadcry was repeated, it became to her an omen of coming evil; and thus theshock of her son's death, though none the less painful, was not quite asgreat as it would otherwise have been. For Kate, too, old Hector had wept,but not so long or so mournfully; still he remembered her, and alwaysevinced his joy whenever her name was spoken.

　　On the morning of the day on which she was expected home, a boy who hadlived in the family when she went away, called Hector to him, andendeavored, by showing him some garment which Kate had worn and byrepeating her name, to make him understand that she was coming home. Wewill not say that Hector understood him, but we know that during the dayhe never for a moment left the house or yard, but lay upon the piazza,looking eagerly toward the road which led from the village. Whenever hesaw a carriage coming, he would start up and gaze wistfully at it until ithad passed, then he would again lie down and resume his watch. Mrs. Wilmotnoticed this, and when Hector, as we have seen, walked up to her andlooked so sympathizingly in her face, she patted his head, saying, "PoorHector; you will see Kate at least today."

　　Nor was she mistaken, for about three that afternoon, an omnibus drew upbefore the gate. Kate immediately sprang out, and was followed by Mr.Miller and Fanny. Their arrival was first made known to Mrs. Wilmot by thecry of joy which Hector sent forth at sight of Kate. With lightning speedhe bounded over the lawn to meet the travelers. Fanny, who was accustomedto the savage watchdogs of Kentucky, sprang back in terror and clung toMr. Miller for protection; but Kate cried out, "Do not fear; it is onlyHector, and he wouldn't harm you for the world." Then she ran forward tomeet him, and embraced him as fondly as though he had really been a humanbeing, and understood and appreciated it all. And he did seem to, forafter caressing Kate, he looked about as if in quest of the missing one.Gradually he seemed to become convinced that Richard was not there; againwas heard the old wailing howl; but this time it was more prolonged, moredespairing. Faithful creature! Know you not that summer's gentle gale andwinter's howling storm have swept over the grave of him whom you sopiteously bemoan.

　　Fanny stopped her ears to shut out the bitter cry, but if Kate heard it,she heeded it not, and bounded on over the graveled walk toward hermother, who was eagerly waiting for her. In an instant parent and childwere weeping in each other's arms.

　　"My Kate, my darling Kate, are you indeed here?" said Mrs. Wilmot.

　　Kate's only answer was a still more passionate embrace. Then recollectingherself, she took her husband's hand and presented him to her mother,saying, "Mother, I could not bring you Richard, but I have brought youanother son. Will you not give him room in your heart?"

　　Mrs. Wilmot had never seen Mr. Miller before, but she was prepared to likehim, not only because he was her daughter's choice, but because he hadbeen the devoted friend of her son; consequently she greeted him with amost kind and affectionate welcome.

　　During all this time Fanny was leaning against one of the pillars of thepiazza, but her thoughts were far away. She was thinking of her distantKentucky home, and a half feeling of homesickness crept over her, as shethought how joyfully she would be greeted there, should she ever return.Her reverie was of short duration, for Kate approached, and leading her toher mother, simply said, "Mother, this is Fanny."

　　'Twas enough. The word Fanny had a power to open the fountains of thatmother's heart. She had heard the story of the young girl, who had watchedso unweariedly by the bedside of Richard--she had heard, too, of thegenerous old man, whose noble heart had cared for and cherished thestranger, and she knew that she, who advanced toward her so timidly, wasthe same young girl, the same old man's daughter; and could Mr. Middletonhave witnessed her reception of his Sunshine, he would have beensatisfied.

　　A messenger was dispatched for Mr. Wilmot, who was superintending someworkmen in a field not far from the house. Mr. Wilmot was a tall,noble-looking man, whose fine figure was slightly bowed by the frosts ofsixty winters. As he advanced with breathless haste toward the house, Kateran to meet him, and the tears which the strong man wept, told how dear tohim was this, his beautiful daughter, and how forcibly her presencereminded him of his first-born, only son, who went away to die amongstrangers.

　　When he was presented to Mr. Miller and Fanny, a scene similar to the onewe have already described took place. As he blessed Fanny for Richard'ssake, she felt that though in a strange land, she was not alone orunloved. Her homesickness soon vanished; for how could she be lonely andsad, where all were so kind, and where each seemed to vie with the otherin trying to make everything agreeable to her. It was strange how sooneven Hector learned to love the fair Kentuckian. He would follow herfootsteps wherever she went, and affectionately kiss her hands. But then,as Kate said, "Hector had more common sense than half the people in theworld," and he seemed to know by instinct that she whom he so fondlycaressed had once watched over his young master, who was now sleeping inhis silent grave, unmindful that in his home he was still sincerelymourned even by old Hector.

　　Not many days after Fanny's arrival at Mr. Wilmot's she was told that agentleman wished to see her in the parlor. On entering the room howsurprised she was at beholding Frank Cameron. He had learned by letterfrom Kate that Fanny was in C----, and he immediately started for hisuncle's.

　　Since his return from Kentucky he had thoughts of little else save FannyMiddleton. Waking or sleeping, she was constantly in his mind, and stillwith a happy thought of her there ever came a sadder feeling, a fear thathis love for her would be in vain. But since the morning when he bade heradieu, her name had never once passed his lips.

　　When his sister Gertrude questioned him concerning the Kentucky girls, hehad described to her in glowing terms the extreme beauty of Julia, and thehandsome eyes of "the widder," as he called Mrs. Carrington, but of Fannyhe had never spoken. He could not bear that even his own sister shouldmention Fanny in connection with any one else. How ever, when Kate'sletter arrived, he passed it over to Gertrude, whose curiosity wasinstantly roused, and she poured forth a torrent of questions as to whothat Fanny Middleton was.

　　"I suppose she must be old Mr. Middleton's daughter," was Frank's teasingreply.

　　"Of course I know that," said Gertrude, "but what of her? who is she?"

　　"Why, I've told you once, she is Fanny Middleton," said Frank.

　　These and similar answers were all Gertrude could draw from him, and shefell into a fit of pouting; but Frank was accustomed to that, andconsequently did not mind it. Next he announced his intention to visit hisUncle Wilmot. Gertrude instantly exclaimed, "Now, Frank, you are too bad.Just as soon as you hear Fanny Middleton is in New York, you start off tosee her, without even telling me who she is, or what she is. In my opinionyou are in love with her, and do not wish us to know it."

　　This started up Mrs. Cameron's ideas, and she said, "Frank, I am inclinedto believe Gertrude is right; but you surely will be respectful enough tome to answer my questions civilly."

　　"Certainly," said Frank. "Ask anything you please; only be quick, for itis almost car time."

　　"Well then, do you intend to make this Miss Middleton your wife?"

　　"I do, if she will have me," said Frank.

　　The distressed lady groaned audibly, but continued, "One more question,Frank. Is she rich and well connected?"

　　Frank passed his hand through the thick curls of his brown hair, andseemed to be trying hard to think of something. Finally he answered, "Why,really, mother, I never once thought to ask that question."

　　"But," persisted Mrs. Cameron, "you can judge by her appearance, and thatof her parents. Did you not see them?"

　　Frank laughed loudly as the image of Uncle Joshua as he first saw him inthe door, buttoning his suspender, presented itself to his remembrance;but he answered, "Yes, mother, I did see her father, and 'twas the richestsight I ever saw."

　　He then proceeded to give a description of Mr. Middleton to his astonishedsister and mother, the latter of whom exhibited such distress that Frankvery compassionately asked, "if she had the toothache."

　　Before she had time to answer, Frank was gone, leaving his mother tolament over the strange infatuation which always led Frank in pursuit ofsomebody beneath him.

　　"I know," said she to Gertrude, "that this Fanny Middleton is from ahorrid low family, and is as poor as a church mouse."

　　So while Frank was hurrying toward the village of C----, his mother andsister were brooding over the disgrace which they feared threatened them.They could have spared all their painful feelings, for she of the "lowfamily" was destined to be another's.

　　During Frank's ride to C---- he determined, ere his return, to know theworst. "She can but refuse me," thought he, "and even if she does, I shallfeel better than I do now." When he met Fanny his manner was so calm andcollected that she never dreamed how deep was the affection she hadkindled in his heart. She received him with real pleasure, for he seemedlike a friend from Kentucky. He staid with her but three days, and when heleft he bore a sadder heart than he had ever felt before. Fanny hadrefused him; not exultingly, as if a fresh laurel had been won only to beboasted of, but so kindly, so delicately, that Frank felt almost willingto act it all over again for the sake of once more hearing Fanny's voice,as she told him how utterly impossible it was for her ever again to loveas a husband should be loved.

　　"Then," said Frank, somewhat bitterly, "you acknowledge that you haveloved another."

　　"Yes," answered Fanny, "but no other circumstances could have wrung theconfession from me. I have loved and been deceived. I will not say myfaith in man's honor is wholly gone, for I believe you, Mr. Cameron, to beperfectly sincere and honorable in your professions of regard. Had we metearlier all might have been different, but now it is too late. If myfriendship is worth having, it is yours. I have never had a brother, butwill look upon and love you as one; with that, you must be satisfied."

　　And he did try to be satisfied, but only because there was no otheralternative. Still he felt a pleasure in being near her, in breathing thesame atmosphere and gazing on the same scenes. Before he returned home hehad decided upon accompanying her, together, with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, ontheir contemplated trip to Saratoga; thence they would go on to New YorkCity, and visit at his father's.

　　"I am sorry," said he, "that it is not the season for parties, as I shouldlove dearly to show off Fanny in opposition to our practised city belles,and now I think of it," continued he, "isn't Mr. Stanton coming North thissummer after a certain Miss Ashton?"

　　"I believe he is," answered Kate.

　　"Now then," said Frank. "I have it exactly. Judge Fulton, who is MissAshton's guardian, has recently removed to the city. I know him well, andhave been introduced to Miss Helen. Stanton has already invited us all tohis wedding, and as Miss Ashton will of course repeat the invitation,Fanny will thus have an opportunity of seeing a little of the gay world inNew York."

　　"You seem to think any praise bestowed upon Fanny as so much credit foryourself," said Kate, mischievously.

　　Frank made no reply, and soon bidding good-by to his friends, he was onhis way to the city. On reaching home he found his mother and sister in astate of great anxiety concerning "the odious old scarecrow's corncakedaughter," as Gertrude styled Fanny. Her first question, after askingabout Kate, was, "Well, Frank, tell me, did you propose to MissMiddleton?"

　　"Most certainly I did. That was one object in going," was Frank's quietreply.

　　The horrified Mrs. Cameron, throwing up both hands in a most theatricalmanner, exclaimed, "Mon Dieu!" It was the only French phrase she knew, andshe used it upon all occasions. This time, however, it was accompanied bya loud call for her vineagrette and for air, at the same time declaring itwas of no use trying to restore her, for her heart was broken and she wasgoing to faint.

　　"Let me wash these red spots off from your cheek. You can't faintgracefully with so much color," said Frank gravely, at the same timeliterally deluging his mother's face with cologne, much against theblooming lady's inclination. This little scene determined Frank not totell that he was rejected. At first he had intended to disclose all, butnow he decided otherwise. "They may as well fret about that as anythingelse," thought he, "and when they see Fanny, I shall have a glorioustriumph." So he kept his own secret, and commenced teasing Gertrude aboutgoing to Saratoga with himself, their cousin Kate and Fanny.

　　"I shall do no such thing, Master Frank," said Gertrude. "I am willingenough to see Kate, and invite her here too, for she is fine looking andappears well, even if she is a music teacher; but this FannyMiddleton--Ugh! I'll never associate with her on terms of equality, or ownher as my sister either."

　　"I do not think you will," said Frank; but Gertrude knew not what cause hehad for so saying.

　　After he had quitted the apartment, Mrs. Cameron and Gertrude tried tothink of some way to let Fanny know that she was not wanted in theirfamily. "Dear me," said Gertrude, "I will not go to Saratoga, and beobliged to see Frank make a dolt of himself with this plebian Kentuckian.If she were only rich and accomplished, why, it would be different, andthe fact of her being from Kentucky would increase her attractions. Butnow it is too bad!" And Gertrude actually cried with vexation andmortified pride. Poor creature! How mistaken she was with regard to FannyMiddleton, and so she one day learned.

　　But as the reader is doubtless anxious to hear of Fanny's introduction toMrs. Cameron and Gertrude, we will give a description of it in the nextchapter.