Chapter VI

by Mary Jane Holmes

　　SUNSHINE HAS TWO GRAVES UPON WHICH TO PLANT FLOWERS

　　Mr. Wilmot's death occurred on Tuesday morning, and the following Thursdaywas appointed for his burial. It was the 1st of September, and a bright,beautiful day; but its sunlight fell on many aching hearts, for though hewho lay in his low coffin, so cold and still, was a "stranger in a strangeland," there were many whose tears fell like summer rain for one who hadthus early passed away. He had during his lifetime been a member of theEpiscopal church, and his funeral services were to take place at AscensionChurch.

　　The house was filled to overflowing. Mr. Middleton, Mr. Miller, Dr. Laceyand Fanny occupied the front seat, as principal mourners for the deceased.Many searching eyes were bent on the fair young girl, whose white foreheadgleamed from under the folds of her veil, and whose eyelids, wet withtears, drooped heavily upon her pale cheek. Madam Rumor had been busy withher thousand tongues, and the scene at the deathbed had been told andretold in twenty different forms, until at last it had become settled thaton Fanny's part there was some secret attachment, or she never would haveevinced so much interest in Mr. Wilmot. She, however, was ignorant of allthis, and sat there wholly unconscious of the interest she was exciting.

　　Julia was not there. She had again defied her mother's commands, andresisted all Fanny's entreaties, that she would go to the funeral.

　　"You ought to see Mr. Wilmot," said Fanny. "He looks so calm, so peacefuland," she added in a low voice, "so forgiving."

　　"So forgiving!" quickly repeated Julia. "I wonder what he has to forgive.If I had continued to love him, 'twould not have saved his life."

　　Fanny sighed and turned away from the hard-hearted girl, who was leftalone with her thoughts during all the long hours of that day. But to doher justice, we must say, that after her mother and sister were gone, afeeling of sadness stole over her; her stony heart somewhat softened, andin the solitude of her chamber she wept for a long time; but whether forMr. Wilmot's death, her own conduct toward him, or the circumstances whichsurrounded her, none can tell.

　　Let us now return to Frankfort, and go back for a few moments in ourstory. Just as the funeral procession had left the house and wasproceeding toward the church, the steamboat Diana, which plies betweenCincinnati and Frankfort, appeared round a bend in the river. She wasloaded with passengers, who were all on the lookout as they neared thelanding place. Just at that moment the tolling bell rang out on the air.Its tones fell sadly on the ear of a tall, beautiful girl, who wasimpatiently pacing the deck, and looking anxiously in the direction of thecity. The knell was repeated, and she murmured, "Oh, what if that shouldbe for Richard!" The thought overpowered her, and sitting down on a seatnear her she burst into tears.

　　"Can I do anything for you?" said the captain, who at that moment passedher.

　　"Nothing, except to land me in Frankfort as soon as possible," said theyoung lady, whom the reader will readily suppose was Kate Wilmot.

　　"Are you in a great hurry?" asked the captain.

　　"Yes, sir," returned Kate. "My brother is dangerously sick and I amanxious to get to him."

　　"Where does your brother live?" asked the captain.

　　"He boards with Mrs. Williams, on Elm street," answered Kate.

　　"Then," said the captain, "if you will show me your baggage, I will seethat it is sent there, for you probably will not wish to waste time inlooking after it when we land."

　　Kate thanked him for his kindness; and when they reached the shore thekind-hearted man called one of his boatmen and ordered him to show MissWilmot the way to Mrs. Williams' residence. As Kate approached the houseshe noticed the air of desertion about it, and her heart sank for fear herbrother might be dead. Running hastily up the steps, she rang the bell,which was answered by a female domestic, who was too old and too infirm toattend the funeral. Kate accosted her by saying, "Does Mr. Wilmot livehere?"

　　The old lady replied by lifting up her hand and exclaiming, while thetears coursed their way down her cheeks, "Lord bless me if it isn't youngmarster's sister."

　　"Yes, yes," said Kate impatiently, "I am his sister. But tell me, is hedead? Am I too late?"

　　The woman replied, "Not too late to see him, if you're right spry. They'vecarried him to the church."

　　"Where? What church is it?" asked Kate wildly.

　　"Right yender; that ar brick house with the tall steeple."

　　Kate waited for no more, but darted off in the direction of the church.Meanwhile the services were ended, and the friends of the deceased weretaking their last leave of him. Mrs. Middleton and Mr. Miller stood on oneside of the coffin, while Dr. Lacey and Fanny were on the other. Fannygazed long and earnestly upon the face of her teacher, as if she wouldstamp his likeness with daguerrean accuracy upon her heart.

　　She was turning sadly away, when a noise at the door caused all eyes to bedirected that way. A pale, lovely face was seen looking anxiously in, andthen a slight female figure advanced through the crowd, which gave way forher to pass. She passed up the aisle till she reached the coffin, thenbursting into a flood of tears, she wrung her hands, exclaiming, "Mybrother, oh my brother--are you indeed dead?" She then imprinted kiss afterkiss upon the cold lips of him who never before disregarded her caresses;and as the full force of her loss came over her, she uttered a piercingcry of anguish, and fell fainting into the arms of Mr. Miller, whorecognized in her beautiful features the original of the picture which Mr.Wilmot had shown him a few months before.

　　He bore her out into the open air, where he was instantly surrounded byhalf a dozen ladies, each insisting that the fair stranger should be takento her house. First among these was Mrs. Crane, who saw by a glance atKate that her presence would not be derogatory to any house, so shedetermined to have her taken to her own dwelling, and urged her claim sohard that Mr. Miller at last consented, thinking that Mrs. Williams mustbe wearied with the recent illness of Mr. Wilmot.

　　Accordingly, when Kate was again restored to consciousness, she foundherself in an elegantly furnished room, with a gaily dressed, handsomelady sitting by her. This was Mrs. Carrington, whose delicate nerves wouldnot suffer her to attend a funeral. On seeing Kate move, she spoke to herand asked her if she felt better.

　　"Yes, much better," said Kate; "but where am I? What has happened?" Andthen as the recollection of what had occurred came over her, she burstinto tears and said, "My brother--they have buried him, I suppose, and Icannot see him again."

　　Mrs. Carrington answered, "I think they have not gone to the cemetery yet.I will dispatch a servant and ask them to delay the burial a few moments,if you desire it."

　　Kate thanked her; but at that moment a messenger came from Mr. Miller. Hehad anticipated Kate's wishes, and sent word that a carriage was waitingto convey her to the church, where she would have another opportunity ofseeing her brother. Mrs. Carrington felt constrained to offer to accompanyher, and the two proceeded to the church and thence to the cemetery.

　　Although Mrs. Carrington had not visited Mr. Wilmot during his illness,she was by no means ignorant of Fanny's attentions. She had taken greatpains to comment upon them in Dr. Lacey's presence, saying, "that she hadoften suspected Fanny of possessing a more than ordinary affection for Mr.Wilmot, and she had sometimes thought her affection returned. For herpart, she did not blame Julia for absenting herself from him, for she hadprobably discovered his preference for her sister." Her object in doingthis was to make Dr. Lacey think less favorably of Fanny, for with herpractised eye she had discovered that for no other female did he feel suchan interest as for "Little Fanny Middleton," as she always termed her.

　　At the grave she noticed Fanny's pale face and swollen eyes, and foundoccasion to say to her, loud enough for Dr. Lacey to hear, "I amastonished, Fanny, to see you show to the world how much you loved yoursister's betrothed."

　　This remark had no effect upon Fanny, except causing her to look at Mrs.Carrington in surprise and to wonder what she meant. With Dr. Lacey it wasdifferent. Imperceptibly, "Little Fanny Middleton" had won a place in hisheart which no other one had ever possessed. At first he admired her forher frank, confiding nature, and afterward he learned to love her for themany lovely traits of her character. He had thought it perfectly naturalthat she should feel a great interest in Mr. Wilmot, who was for so long atime a member of her father's family; but the wrong construction which wasput upon her motives annoyed him, and even made him fearful that her heartmight be more interested in Mr. Wilmot than he was willing to believe. Ashe stood by the open grave into which the cold earth was heavily falling,there rested upon his brow a deeper shade of sadness than was occasionedby the mere death of his friend. Mrs. Carrington observed it, and resolvedto follow up the train of thought which she saw was awakened in his mind.

　　After the burial Kate returned to Mrs. Crane's, where she was treated withevery possible attention which politeness or sympathy could dictate. A fewdays after the funeral she one evening casually asked, if that fair,delicate-looking girl at her brother's grave were not Miss Middleton?

　　"Yes," replied Mrs. Carrington. "Did you not think from her manner thatshe was a sincere mourner?"

　　Kate was about to reply, when Dr. Lacey prevented her by saying, "Pardonme, Mrs. Carrington; but I think you have given Miss Wilmot a wrongimpression. She doubtless thinks it was Miss Julia Middleton."

　　"Yes," said Kate, "I thought it was Miss Julia."

　　Dr. Lacey replied that it was Fanny--Julia's younger sister; and then hetold how faithfully she had watched over Mr. Wilmot during his illness. OfJulia he said nothing, and although Kate wished very much to knowsomething concerning her, she determined not to question Dr. Lacey, but towait and ask Mr. Miller, who, for some reason, seemed nearer to her thanany other one of the strangers by whom she was surrounded. He had beensolicited to take charge of the school, which was now destitute of ateacher, and as the situation pleased him, he readily accepted the offerand accepted Mrs. Crane's as his boarding place. Perhaps one inducementwhich led him to do this was the presence of the beautiful Kate, in whomhe daily became more interested.

　　Years before, when but a boy in the boarding school at Canandaigua, he hadoften fancied that the time would come when he should both see and knowthe sister whom Richard Wilmot used to describe in such glowing terms.Since then another image had filled his heart and he had dreamed ofanother face--not so fair, perhaps, but quite as innocent. But now thedream was sadly over, and he had never thought of the gentle Fanny for awife since that night when, as he supposed, he saw the dark side of hercharacter. He, however, could not conquer his old partiality, and alwaysspoke of her in the highest terms. Consequently, from his description ofher, Kate received a very favorable impression.

　　He said little of Julia; but told Kate that he would take her to Mr.Middleton's the first fine day. He wished to go there in order to induceMrs. Middleton to send her daughters back to school. The next Saturday wasfixed upon for the visit, and at an early hour Mr. Miller and Kate were ontheir way to Mr. Middleton's.

　　Kate Wilmot was not only handsome, but was also very intelligent andagreeable, and by the time their ride was half-completed, Mr. Miller wasmore than half in love and was building air castles just as he had donemonths before when Fanny was mistress of them all.

　　About noon they reached Mr. Middleton's, where they were received verykindly by Mrs. Middleton, very joyfully by Fanny, and very coldly byJulia, whose face always wore a darker frown whenever Mr. Miller waspresent; but he apparently did not notice it, and went on conversing upondifferent subjects. At last he asked when Mr. Middleton was expected home.

　　"I am expecting him every day," said Mrs. Middleton, "and," she added in alower tone, "I almost dread to have him come, for I do not know that hehas ever heard a word of Richard's illness and death."

　　"Why, have you never written to him?" asked Mr. Miller.

　　"Yes," replied she; "but it is so uncertain as to what place he is in, orhow long he will remain there, that it is doubtful whether he everreceived the letter. We heard from him a few days ago. He was then inIndiana, and as he said nothing about Mr. Wilmot, I presume he has notheard of his death."

　　Just as she had finished speaking, the dogs set up a great barking, andthe negroes uttered the joyful cry of "Marster's come! Marster's come!"The family ran to the door to meet him; but Fanny could not wait for himto enter the house, neither could she stop to unfasten the gate, butclearing it with one bound, she was soon in the arms of her father, whouttered his usual, "Ha, ha," and said, "Well done, darling; you'll do fora cirkis rider. Are you glad to see your old pap?"

　　The blacks then gathered round, and he shook hands with all, saying, "Howd'ye, boys? How d'ye? Have you worked right smart since I've been gone? Ifyou have, you may have a play spell the rest of the arternoon."

　　So saying, he entered the house, where after greeting his wife, Julia andMr. Miller, he was introduced to "Miss Wilmot." He took her hand andlooking at her for a moment, said, "Wilmot, Wilmot! Are you Dick'ssister?"

　　Kate's eyes filled with tears as she exclaimed, "Yes, sir, Richard was mybrother."

　　"Richard was your brother! Great Moses! What does this mean? And you inblack and crying!" Then looking at his wife, who was also in tears, headded impatiently, "What in thun--" but instantly recollecting himself, hesaid more gently, "Can't anybody tell me what has happened?" And the oldman's cheek paled, and his voice trembled, as the dread of what might havehappened stole over him.

　　Fanny at last went up to him and said softly, "Father, Mr. Wilmot isdead!"

　　Mr. Middleton sank into the nearest chair, and covering his rough facewith his hands, wept as freely as a little child. He had loved Mr. Wilmotwith almost a father's love, and during his absence had not been unmindfulof him. Safely stowed away in his carpet bag were several costly books,which he had purchased as a present for Richard. He had also hoped that asJulia's husband he would have a good influence over her, and improve herfractious disposition; and many were the plans which he had formed as towhat he would do when Richard was really his son. But now he was goneforever. The blow was so sudden, so unexpected, that for several minuteshe was stunned by its force and wept on in silence.

　　At last, lifting up his head, he turned to Kate and said, "You must notthink me a silly old fool, child, for Lord knows old Josh Middleton hain'tshed such tears since he was a little shaver and cried when they buried uphis dead mother."

　　Kate could not reply, but from that time she felt for Mr. Middleton arespect and esteem which nothing could ever change.

　　After Mr. Middleton had become calm, he proceeded to enumerate to Mr.Miller the many good qualities of Mr. Wilmot. Said he, "He was a capitalfeller; allus just so. Lively as a cricket; none of your stuck-up,fiddle-faddle notions. And then he was such a good boarder--not a bitparticular what he eat; why, he was the greatest kind of a man--eat cornbread, turnip greens, or anything!"

　　At this speech Kate smiled in spite of her tears, and Mr. Middleton wenton: "But he warn't as handsome as his sister, and I'll be skinned if Iever seen anybody that was. Tempest can't hold a candle to her, for allshe feels so crank. Why, Kit, or Kate, what's yer name? You're as handsomeas a pictur!"

　　Mr. Miller probably thought so too, if the admiring look which he gave herwas any criterion. Mr. Middleton observed it, and forgetting for a momentthe death of his friend, he slapped Mr. Miller on his shoulder, saying, "Itell you what, my boy; it's a mighty mean wind that blows nobody any goodfortin. Miss Kate warn't sent to Kentuck for nothin', and unless you're abigger logger-head than I think you be, you'll try to find out what shecome for, and how long she's goin' to stay."

　　Mr. Miller smiled and said, "I hope we shall be able to keep Miss Wilmotall winter, for the people of Frankfort are wanting a music teacher, andhave solicited her to remain in that capacity."

　　"By Jove," said Mr. Middleton, "that's just the thing! And you have takenDick's place in school--poor, boy, to die so soon!" The tears were againmoistening his immense beard, but this time he hastily brushed them away,and went on, "Yes, that's a capital idee, and you want me to patternizeyou by sending my two gals--hey? Well, I reckon I can't do better, if theywant to go. Ho! Tempest--Sunshine--what d'ye say? D'ye want to go back toFrankfort and board at Miss Crane's, 'long of Mr. Miller, Dr. Lacey, Katydid, and that other infernal Katy didn't, what fainted spang away at thesight of old Josh! But though she was so dreadfully skeered, the pootycolor didn't leave her cheeks an atom. Lightnin' spikes! Let me catch mygals paintin' and I'll--"

　　But he was prevented from telling what he'd do by Fanny, who clapped herhands and said, "Oh, father, you are a dear good man; may we really go?"

　　"I thought Fanny would be pleased with the idea," said Mr. Miller, "andeven if she had objected, I was going to send the doctor out, and I knowhe would bring her to terms."

　　Fanny blushed and her father said, "Do you think so? Well, I'm glad on't.I'd as soon she'd have him as anybody, and she's worthy of him too, for ifshe can love such a hideous old clown as I am, she'll stick to such a niceman as Dr. Lacey through thick and thin. But what do you say to goin',Tempest?"

　　Julia had at first thought that nothing could induce her to become a pupilof Mr. Miller, but his allusion to Dr. Lacey decided her otherwise. It wasnecessary that she should go, for she did not dare trust her sister alonewith the doctor; so she swallowed her dislike to Mr. Miller, and said sheshould be delighted to return to school.

　　It was settled that they should go during the next week.

　　This arrangement gave great pleasure to Dr. Lacey, who found it verylonely in Frankfort without Fanny, and had several times spoken ofreturning to New Orleans. But when he learned that Fanny was coming back,he suddenly changed his mind and concluded that Frankfort would be acharming winter residence. This was laughingly told to Fanny by Kate, whohad learned to love her very much. Julia she disliked, for she had at lastdrawn from Mr. Miller the whole history of her proceedings, and she couldbut look upon the false-hearted girl as accessory to her brother's death.

　　Julia knew that by the fair Northern beauty she was secretly despised, butshe did not care, for she had conceived a great friendship for Mrs.Carrington, whom she often amused with her remarks about New York people.Once she said, "I do wish New York would die, or stop taking emetics, andsending the contents of her bilious stomach to Kentucky in the shape ofteachers!"

　　Mrs. Carrington smiled and said, "I think you prefer Louisiana emetics, doyou not?"

　　Julia blushed as she answered, "Yes, but what can I do. There's Mr. Millerready to back up whatever Fanny does, and put down whatever I do. I'dthank him to mind his own business, and stay at his own home!"

　　Mrs. Carrington did not reply, for she, too, was greatly annoyed by thepresence of Mr. Miller and Kate. The latter she looked upon as a rival,for she was said by every one to have the most beautiful face inFrankfort. This greatly displeased Mrs. Carrington, who, before Kate'sarrival, had been considered the belle of the town, so far as beauty wasconcerned. She also felt great contempt for Kate's occupation as ateacher, and said, "She didn't see why folks should make such an ado overa poor music teacher."

　　Once, in speaking on the subject to Dr. Lacey, she said, "I am glad I wasnot born in New York, for then I should have been obliged to pick upchips, split wood, dig potatoes, wash dishes and teach school!"

　　Dr. Lacey's reply to this remark was, "I think, Mrs. Carrington, you willadmit that the young ladies who come here from the North almost alwayspossess superior education. Now if they spent much time in splitting woodand digging potatoes, I am sure they could not acquire so much knowledge."

　　Mrs. Carrington answered, "Of course you feel interested in New Yorkers,for Fanny has taken a great fancy to them, and whatever she likes you mustlike, of course."

　　"Yes, I know Fanny likes our New York friends very much," said Dr. Lacey."And I think you will allow that she shows good taste in the choice of herassociates."

　　"Oh, yes, admirable," returned Mrs. Carrington, "almost as good taste assome of my acquaintance show in preferring her."

　　"What do you mean?" asked Dr. Lacey.

　　"Why, I mean," said Mrs. Carrington, "that I am puzzled to know whatattraction such a simple-minded girl as Fanny can have for a person ofyour intelligence."

　　Dr. Lacey bit his lip, but forcing down his anger said, "She possesses thesame attraction which every guileless, innocent person has."

　　"Guileless and innocent," repeated Mrs. Carrington; "rather call herartful and designing. Depend upon it, doctor, you have only seen thebright side of her disposition. You should see her in her room, and knowhow much trouble her sister has with her!"

　　She might have said more, but Dr. Lacey stopped her by saying ratherwarmly, "Mrs. Carrington, you shall not talk so about Fanny. I know you donot like her, and consequently, whatever you can say of her will have noeffect upon me."

　　So saying, he quitted the apartment, leaving Mrs. Carrington to her ownreflections. They were not very pleasant, for Dr. Lacey's manner had saidas plainly as words could say that she had better mind her own business,and she began to think so herself, for she muttered, "After all, what isit to me if he does like Fanny? I am bound fast, but oh, if I were free,I'd compass heaven and earth to secure him." Her wish to be free was soonrealized.

　　That afternoon, when the Sea Gull came up from Louisville, it brought homeher husband, wearied, worn out and sick. He took his bed, and never lefthis room again until strong men carried him out and laid him down to sleepin the silent graveyard. The close of his life was calm and peaceful, forhe had early chosen the better part, and he looked upon the grave as but astepping stone from earth to heaven.

　　His life was a dreary pilgrimage, for though he possessed for his young,giddy wife, a strong, ardent affection, he had long known that it was notreturned, and he felt that she would be happier if he were dead. She,however, paid him as much attention during his illness as the gay life sheled would allow; but she was often away, and night after night was he leftalone with his Bible and his God, while she was in the midst of somefashionable amusement. Her neglect was, however, partly made up to him bythe kind care of Fanny, who gave him all the time she could possibly sparefrom her school duties. Mrs. Carrington found it very convenient to callupon her, whenever she wished to be absent, and hour after hour the fairyoung girl sat by the sick man's bedside, employed either with her needle,her books or drawing. Mr. Carrington was a fine scholar and gave her muchassistance in her studies.

　　When he grew too weak to read, she would read to him from the Bible,stopping occasionally, while he explained some obscure passage, orendeavored to impress on her mind some solemn truth. Thus were the seedsof righteousness sown, which afterward sprang up and bore fruit untoeverlasting life.

　　At last the chilling dews came upon his head, his eye grew dim with themists of death, and then he laid his cold, white hand on Fanny's head andprayed most earnestly that heaven's choicest blessings, both here andhereafter, might descend upon one who had so kindly smoothed his darkpathway down to the valley of death. A few words of affectionate farewellto his wife and he was gone. His crushed, aching heart had ceased to beatand in a few days the green sod was growing above his early grave.

　　Fanny begged so earnestly to have him buried by the side of Mr. Wilmotthat Mrs. Carrington finally consented, and the two, who had never seeneach other on earth, now lay peacefully side by side. When the springtimecame, the same fair hands planted flowers over the graves of her brothers,as she loved to call the two men, each of whom had blessed her with hisdying breath. Thither would she often go with Dr. Lacey, who was each daylearning to love her more and more.

　　Mrs. Carrington contented herself with having a few hysterical fits,shedding a few tears, dressing herself in an expensive suit of mourning,and erecting to the memory of her husband a magnificent monument. When Mr.Middleton saw the latter, he said, "Why the plague can't Dick have as gooda gravestun as that young lieutenant? He desarves it jest as much"; so outcame his purse, and when Mrs. Carrington went next to visit the costlymarble at her husband's grave, she was chagrined to see by its side astill more splendid one. But there was no help for it, so she had toendure it in silence, consoling herself with thinking how becomingly shewould dress and how many conquests she would make, when the term of hermourning should have expired!