Chapter X

by Mary Jane Holmes

　　TEMPEST FORGES A LETTER AND ITS RESULTS

　　Let us now go back for a few weeks and watch Julia's plot as itprogresses. We have learned from Fanny that four letters arrived from Dr.Lacey; but the fifth she was destined never to receive. She was expectingit on Tuesday and was about going to the post office, when Julia said,"Fanny, I feel just like walking this morning; suppose you let me runround to the post office and get your expected letter."

　　"Very well," answered Fanny; "but don't be gone long."

　　"I won't," said Julia, gaily. "You sit down by the window and when I comeround the corner on my return home. I will hold up your letter, and youwill know you have one at least a minute before I reach home."

　　So saying she departed, and Fanny sat down by the window to await herreturn. For several days past there had been a change in Julia'sdeportment. She was very amiable and kind to the household in general andto Fanny in particular. This was a part of her plan, so that in thecatastrophe that was about to follow, she might not be suspected of foulplay.

　　At first Fanny was surprised at her affectionate advances, but it was sopleasant to have a sister who would love her that she did not ask thereason of so sudden a change, and when Julia very humbly asked forgivenessfor all her former unkindness, the innocent-hearted Fanny burst intotears, and declared she had nothing to forgive, if her sister would onlycontinue to love her always. Julia placed a Judas-like kiss on Fanny'spure brow, and gave a promise that she would try to be good; but shethought to herself, "this seeming change will make a favorable impressionon Dr. Lacey when he hears of it."

　　She knew that Fanny was expecting a letter on the Tuesday morning of whichwe have spoken, and fearing that by some means Mr. Dunn might fail ofsecuring it, she determined to go herself for the mail. When she reachedthe post office the sinister smile with which Mr. Dunn greeted her assuredher that he had something for her, and she readily conjectured that it wasFanny's expected letter.

　　"Good morning, Mr. Dunn!" said she. "Anything for me this morning?"

　　"Yes, ma'am," answered Dunn, with a very low bow; and casting a furtiveglance around to make sure that no one saw him, he drew from his pocket aletter, on which Julia instantly recognized Dr. Lacey's handwriting. Shetook it and placed it in the pocket of her dress.

　　On her way home, conscience clamored loudly in behalf of Fanny's rights.It said, "Beware what you do! Give Fanny her letter. It is a crime towithhold it." But again the monitress was stilled, and the crafty girlkept on her way, firm in her sinful purpose, until she reached the cornerwhich brought her in sight of the window where Fanny was impatientlywatching for her. The sight of that bright, joyous face, as it looked fromthe window, anxious for the expected sight of her letter, made Julia for amoment waver. She thought how gentle and loving Fanny had always been toher and involuntarily her hand sought the letter which lay like a crushingweight in her pocket. It was half drawn from its hiding place when thespirit of evil which seemed ever to follow Julia's footsteps whispered,"Let it alone. You have gone too far to retreat. You have Dr. Lacey towin, and it can be done in no other way."

　　Julia listened to the tempter, her hand was withdrawn, and Fanny looked invain for her letter. A faint sickness stole over her for a moment but shethought, "Perhaps Julia means to tease me. I will appear very unconcernedand not ask for it." So when Julia entered the room, she found that hersister's attention was suddenly, distracted by something in the street;but Fanny was not accustomed to dissemble and the rosy flush on her cheekshowed how anxious she was.

　　At last Julia said, "Why do you not ask for your letter, Fanny?"

　　Oh, how eager was the expression of the sweet, pale face which wasinstantly turned toward the speaker. Springing up she exclaimed, "Oh,Julia, you have got me one, haven't you? Please give it to me."

　　"I will tomorrow when it arrives," said Julia. "It has probably beendelayed."

　　Fanny's countenance fell and she said, "Then you haven't got me a letter?Oh, I'm so sorry!"

　　"Never mind, sister," said Julia. "It will come tomorrow, and will seemall the better for waiting."

　　Tomorrow came, but with it came no letter, and days wore on, until at lastit was Saturday night. Alone in her room poor Fanny was weeping bitterly.Was Dr. Lacey sick or dead? This was the question which she continuallyasked herself. A suspicion of his unfaithfulness had not yet entered hermind. While she was yet weeping an arm was thrown affectionately roundher, and a voice whispered in the sweetest possible tones, "Dear sister,do not weep so. If he were dead, some one would inform you. And now Ithink of it, why do you not write to him? There would be no harm in doingso. Come, sit down, and write him a few lines before dark, and I will takethem to the office."

　　So Fanny sat down to her writing desk, and the few lines proved to be along letter ere she had finished. It was a most touchingly sad letter, andought to have drawn tears from Julia, instead of forcing the malicioussmile which played around her mouth while reading her sister's effusion.It is needless to say that, although Julia went to the post office, thisletter never did but was placed in a little box by the side of two others,which had arrived from Dr. Lacey that week.

　　After Julia returned from her walk that evening she said, "Fanny, if Iwere you I would not tell any one that I did not hear from Dr. Lacey, foryou know it's just possible that he may not be sick, and in that case yourbest way would be to seem quite as forgetful of him."

　　"Forgetful!" said Fanny. "Why, Julia, what do you mean? You cannot--Oh, no,I know you do not think Dr. Lacey untrue to me?" And Fanny's large blueeyes were fixed on her sister with as much earnestness as though heranswer could decide her fate forever.

　　"I do not like to think so, any more than you do," said Julia. "But Dr.Lacey is now in the gay city of New Orleans, surrounded by beauty andfashion, and were I his betrothed, I should not think it strange if he didnot remain true to me."

　　Fanny answered slowly, as if speaking were painful to her, "Oh, no, no! Hecannot be false--anything but that."

　　It was a new idea to her, and that night a weight of sadness, heavier thanshe had ever known before, filled her heart. She thought, "I will wait andsee if he answers my letter before I believe him unfaithful."

　　The next day was the Sabbath. About church time Julia announced herintentions of remaining at home on the plea of a violent headache. Fannyimmediately offered to stay with her, but Julia declined, saying thatsooner than both should be absent from church she would go herself.

　　Accordingly Julia was left alone. She watched her sister until shedisappeared down the street. Then she arose, and locking the door, drewfrom her pocket a small key, and unlocking a rosewood box, took from itone of Dr. Lacey's letters. Going to her writing desk, she sat down andcommenced imitating his handwriting. She was very skillful in the art ofimitation, and was delighted to find herself rapidly succeeding in herattempts at counterfeiting. So busily engaged was she that she did notheed the lapse of time, until her sister's footsteps were heard ascendingthe stairs. She sprang hastily up, and thrusting her writing materialsinto the box locked it, and had just time to throw herself upon the sofawhen Fanny knocked at the door. Julia allowed her to knock twice, and thengetting up she unfastened the door, at the same time yawning and rubbingher eyes as if just awakened from a sound slumber.

　　"Why, sister, I woke you up, didn't I?" said Fanny. "I am sorry."

　　"No matter," answered Julia, with another yawn, "I feel better. My nap hasdone my head good."

　　In the afternoon Fanny again went to church, and Julia resumed theoccupation of the morning. She succeeded so well that before church wasout she felt sure that after a few more attempts she could imitate Dr.Lacey's writing so exactly as to thoroughly deceive Fanny. "But not yet,"said she to herself; "I do not wish to test my skill yet. It is hardlytime."

　　Thus the days glided away. Nearly two weeks passed, and there came noanswer to Fanny's letter. She did not know that regularly, twice a week,letters had arrived from New Orleans, and had been handed to Julia by Mr.Dunn. In the last of these letters, Dr. Lacey complained because Fanny hadneglected writing so long. We will give the following extract:

　　"MY PRECIOUS SUNSHINE:

　　"--Can it be that you are sick? I do not wish to think so; and yet whatelse can prevent your writing? I have not a thought that you are forgetfulof me, for you are too pure, too innocent to play me false. And yet I amsometimes haunted by a vague fear that all is not right, for a dark shadowseems resting over me. One line from you, dearest Fanny, will fill myheart with sunshine again--"

　　Thus wrote the doctor, and Julia commented on it as follows: "Yes, you arehaunted, and I am glad of it. The pill is working well; I'll see whether'Sunshine,' as you and my old fool father call her, will steal awayeverybody's love for me. I suppose I'm the dark shadow, for father callsme a spirit of darkness, and yet, perhaps, if he had been more gentle withme, I might have been better; but now it's too late." And the letter wasplaced in the rosewood box by the side of its companions.

　　Slowly but surely the painful conviction fixed itself upon Fanny's mindthat Dr. Lacey was false. It was dreadful to think so, but there seemed noother alternative, and Fanny's heart grew sadder, and her step less joyousand elastic, while her merry laugh was now seldom heard ringing out in itsclear, silvery tones, making the servants stop their work to listen andexclaim, "How lonesome t'would be without Miss Fanny; she's the life ofthe house, Lor' bless her."

　　The change was noticed and spoken of by the inmates of Mrs. Crane'sdwelling. Mr. Miller attributed it to a too close application to books,and recommended her to relax somewhat in her studies. Fanny had too muchof woman's pride to allow anyone except Julia to know the real cause ofher sadness, and was glad to have her languor ascribed to over-exertion.On the night when Kate had found her weeping she had involuntarily toldher secret, but she went to Mrs. Miller the next morning and won from hera promise not to mention what she had revealed, even to her husband.

　　Mr. Stanton's presence seemed to divert Fanny's mind, and the two weeksfollowing his arrival passed away more pleasantly than she had thought twoweeks could pass, uncheered by a line from Dr. Lacey. At the end of thattime it pleased Julia that Fanny should have a pretended letter from NewOrleans. Several days were spent in preparing it, but at last it wascompleted, folded, sealed and directed. Mr. Dunn pronounced the deceptionperfect. He stamped it with the Frankfort postmark so slightly that onewould as soon have called it "New Orleans" as anything else.

　　Fanny was seated in the parlor in company with Stanton when Julia suddenlyentered the room and said, "Oh, here you are, sister. I've lookedeverywhere for you. Here is a letter."

　　One glance at the superscription assured her that it was from Dr. Lacey. Abright, beautiful flush suffused Fanny's face, which became irradiatedwith sudden joy. Asking Mr. Stanton to excuse her, she went to her rooms,so as to be alone when she perused the precious document. After she wasgone, Julia spoke of Dr. Lacey and asked Stanton if he had ever heard fromhim. Stanton replied, "While Dr. Lacey was in college he spent a part ofhis vacations at my father's; but I almost always chanced to be absent atschool, and consequently we are not much acquainted. He did write to me afew times while I was in college, but our correspondence gradually ceasedand I have not heard from him in a long time. I hope he will return toFrankfort, for I should like to renew our acquaintance."

　　This answer gave Julia great relief; she had feared Stanton might write toDr. Lacey, and that by some means her scheme might be ruined. But all wassafe, and in a few moments she arose to go to her room and witness theresult of the letter. Let us go before her and see the result forourselves.

　　On reaching her apartment, Fanny sat down on the sofa, while a tremulousnervousness shook her frame. She dreaded to open the letter, for a strangeforboding of evil came over her. At last the seal was broken and Fanny'sheart stood still, and a dizziness crept over her as she read. For thereader's benefit we will look over her shoulder and read with her thefollowing:

　　"MY ONCE DEAR AND STILL MUCH ADMIRED FANNY: I hardly know how to writewhat I wish to tell you. If I knew exactly your opinion concerning me, Imight feel differently. As it is I ardently hope that your extreme youthprevented my foolish, but then sincere, attentions from making any verylasting impression on you. But why not come to the point at once. Fanny,you must try and forget that you ever knew one so wholly unworthy of youas I am. It gives me great pain to write it, but I am about to engagemyself to another.

　　"Do not condemn me unheard. There is a young lady in this city, who isbeautiful, wealthy and accomplished. Between her father's family and minethere has long existed an intimacy which our fathers seem anxious tostrengthen by a union between myself and the young lady I have mentioned.For a time I resisted manfully. For, ever between me and the tempting baitcame the image of a pale, bright-haired girl, whose blue eyes lookedmournfully into mine and whispered, 'Do not leave me.' But at last Iyielded, and now, Fanny, will you forgive me? It cost me more anguish togive you up than I hope you will ever feel. Be happy, Fanny, and some timewhen I am traveling through Kentucky, let me find you the cheerful,contented wife of some one more suitable for you than I am. With kindwishes for your happiness, I remain,

　　"Your true friend,

　　"GEORGE LACEY."

　　"P.S.--It is just possible that the young lady and myself may not becomeengaged, but if we do not, after what has passed, it will be best for youand me to try to forget each other. Give my compliments to your sisterJulia. By the way, do you know that I always admired her very much? What asensation she would make in the fashionable world of New Orleans. Butpshaw! What nonsense I'm writing."

　　Alas for Fanny! She did not need to read the letter twice, for everysyllable had burned into her soul, and she could have repeated each wordof the cruel message. This, then, was the end of her bright dream ofbliss! She did not weep, for she could not. The fountain of her tearsseemed dried up. A heavy weight had suddenly fallen on all her faculties.The objects in the room chased each other in rapid circles, while Dr.Lacey stood in the distance mocking her anguish. A faint feeling gatheredround her heart. She uttered a low cry and fell heavily forward.

　　When Julia entered the room she found her sister extended on the floor,cold and white as a piece of marble, while the blood was gushing from hernostrils and moistening the curls of her long hair. Julia's first feelingwas one of intense horror, or fear her sister might be dead, but a touchassured her that Fanny had only fainted. So she lifted her up, and bearingher to the window applied the usual restoratives. As Julia looked on thedeath-like face of her young sister she murmured, "Had I thought she lovedhim so well, never would I have done so wickedly."

　　But she made no promise to repair the mischief, and stifled all the betterimpulses of her nature by saying, "It is too late now: it is too late."

　　At last Fanny opened her eyes. Her first thought was for her letter, whichwas still tightly clenched in her hand. Passing it to Julia she said,faintly, "Read it, sister."

　　Julia took it, and pretending to read it, burst into a violent passion,abusing Dr. Lacey for his meanness, and ending by telling Fanny that sheought to consider herself fortunate in escaping from such a man. Fannyseemed disturbed to hear evil spoken of Dr. Lacey, so Julia changed hermanner, and said, "I do not wonder you feel badly, Fanny. You and I cansympathize together now."

　　Fanny looked at her sister in some surprise, but at last answered, "Oh no,you cannot know how I feel. Mr. Wilmot loved you to the last. Dr. Lacey isnot dead, but--"

　　Here Julia interrupted her by saying, "I do not mean to refer to Mr.Wilmot. I was flattered by his attentions, but I never knew what it was tolove until I saw Dr. Lacey."

　　"Dr. Lacey!--You love Dr. Lacey!" said Fanny, and again she fell back coldand motionless. A second time Julia restored her to consciousness, but foran hour she did not speak or scarcely move. At the end of that time,calling her sister to her, in a low, subdued tone, she said, "Tell me all,Julia. I can bear it. I am calm now."

　　The traitress kissed her cheek, and taking one of the little hands inhers, told her how truly she had loved Dr. Lacey, and how she hadstruggled against it when she saw that he loved another. "I have," saidshe, "lain awake many a night, and while you slept sweetly, dreaming,perhaps, of your lover, I have wept bitter tears because I must go alonethrough the cold world, unloved and uncared for. And forgive me, Fanny,but sometimes I have felt angered at you, because you seemed to stealeverybody's love from me. Our old father never speaks to me with the sameaffection which marks his manner when addressing you."

　　"I know it, I know it," said Fanny. "I wish he would not do so, but Dr.Lacey--Dr. Lacey--I never thought you wanted him to love you; if I had--"

　　"What would you have done?" asked Julia, with noticeable eagerness.

　　The voice was mournfully low which replied, "I would have given him up foryou. I could not have married one whom my sister loved." And then shesuddenly added, "It seems doubtful whether he marries that young lady. Ifanything should happen to prevent it, he may yet make you his wife."

　　"And you, what would you do?" asked Julia.

　　"Oh, it is impossible for me to marry him now," said Fanny. "But if youwere happy with him, I would try to be happy, too."

　　"God bless you, sweet sister," said Julia; "but it will never be."

　　Fanny did not reply, and after a moment's silence Julia said, "Sister, ifI were you I would keep all this a secret, and even if I were unhappy, Iwould try to assume a forced cheerfulness, for fear people would suspectthe truth, and call me lovesick."

　　Fanny did not reply to this either. She was trying to still the painfulthrobs of her aching heart. Through all the long, weary hours of thatnight she was awake. Sometimes she would watch the myriad host of stars,as they kept on their unwearied course through the clear, blue sky, andwould wonder if there was room beyond them for one so unhappy as she was,and would muse on the past days of happiness now forever gone, andalthough a choking sensation was in her throat, not a tear moistened hercheek. "I shall never weep again," thought she, "and why should I? Theworld will not know what I suffer. I will be as gay and merry as ever."And a fearful laugh rang through the room as she said, "Yes, how gaylyI'll dance at the wedding. I'll hold my heart so fast that none shall everknow in how many pieces it is broken."

　　Thus she talked on. Delirium was stealing over her, and when morningbroke, the rapid moving of her bright eye, and the crimson spot whichburned on either cheek, showed that brain fever was doing its work.

　　A physician was immediately called and by the means of powerful remediesthe progress of the disease was checked, so that Fanny was seriously illfor only a week. She was delirious a great part of the time, but Julia wasdelighted to find out that not one word of Dr. Lacey ever passed her lips.At the commencement of her illness her father and mother were sent for.The old man came quickly, for Fanny was his idol, and if she should die,he would be bereaved indeed. With untiring love he watched by her bedsideuntil the crisis was passed. He would fan her fevered brow, moisten herparched lips, chafe her hot, burning hands, smooth her tumbled pillow, andwhen at last he succeeded in soothing her into a troubled slumber, hewould sit by her and gaze on her wan face with an earnestness which seemedto say that she was his all of earth, his more than all of heaven. Juliatoo was all attention. Nothing tired her, and with unwearied patience shecame and went at her father's bidding, doing a thousand little officespertaining to a sick chamber. For once her father's manner softened towardher and the tones of his voice were gentle and his words kind whilespeaking to his first born. Could he have known what part she had incausing the illness of his "darling Sunshine," all Frankfort would haveshaken with the heavy artillery of oaths and execrations, which would havebeen disgorged from his huge lungs, like the eruption of some long pent-upvolcano! But he did not suspect the truth, and in speaking of Fanny'sillness, he said, "It is studyin' so close that ailed her. As soon as evershe can bar to be moved, we will carry her home, and Aunt Katy'll nuss herup quicker."

　　Accordingly, as soon as the physician pronounced it safe to move her, shewas taken home, and by her mother's assiduous care, and Aunt Katy'sskilful nursing, her physical health was soon much improved. But nomedicine could reach the plague spot which preyed upon her heart and casta dark shadow over every feeling of pleasure. As soon as her health wasfully restored, she asked permission to return to school. At first Mr.Middleton refused, but not long did he ever withstand any request which"Sunshine" made. So at last he consented, on condition that she would giveup the study of Latin, and promise not to apply herself too closely toanything. To this Fanny readily agreed, and in a few days she was inFrankfort, occupying her accustomed seat at Mrs. Crane's and bending overher task in the old schoolroom, which seemed suddenly illuminated by herpresence.

　　The schoolgirls welcomed back their young companion with manydemonstrations of joy, for they said, "the schoolroom seemed dark andlonely when she was absent." Dear little Fanny! There was love enough leftfor her in the hearts of all who knew her, but it did not satisfy. Therewas still an aching void, which one love alone could fill, and that loveshe thought was lost to her forever. She was mistaken.

　　During her illness she thought much of what Julia had said relative toconcealing her disappointment with an assumed gayety, and she resolved todo so, partly from wounded pride, and partly from love of her dear oldfather, who seemed distressed whenever anything troubled his "Sunshine."When she returned to Frankfort none but the most acute observer would havesuspected that the sparkling eye and dancing footstep were the disguise ofa desolate, aching heart and that the merry laugh and witty repartee werebut the echoes of a knell of sadness, whose deepest tones were stifled erethey reached the ear of the listener. In the darkness of night however,all was changed. The Sunshine was obscured, and Julia alone knew whatanguish Fanny endured. Still the cruel girl never wavered in her purpose."The worst is over," said she. "She will not die now, even if she saw himwedded to me." So she suffered her sister's cheek to grow paler, and herdelicate form thinner, at the supposed desertion of her lover. Little didFanny think that he, whose false-heartedness she deplored, dreamed eachnight of his distant dear one, and that each day his warm heart beat morequickly, because no tidings came from her.

　　A few days after Fanny's return there came cards of invitation for a largeparty at the residence of a Mr. C----. The evening was propitious, and atthe usual hour Mrs. C----'s parlors were filled with the beauty and fashionof the city. Among all the belles who that evening graced the brilliantlylighted drawing rooms, none was so much admired as Julia Middleton, whoappeared dressed in a rich crimson velvet robe, tastefully trimmed withermine. Magnificent bracelets, which had cost her father almost as manyoaths as dollars, glittered on her white, rounded arms. Her snowy neck,which was also uncovered, was without ornament. Her glossy hair, dark asnight, was arranged in the most becoming manner.

　　At the time Mr. Middleton had given Julia her bracelets, he had presentedFanny with a bandeau of pearls. But Julia found it an easy task topersuade her sister that pearls were not becoming to her style of beauty;so on the evening of the party they gleamed amid the heavy braids ofJulia's hair. Wherever she went she was followed by a train of admirers,who had little thought that that soft smile and beautiful face concealed aheart as hard as the flinty rock.

　　Contrary to all the rules of propriety, the heartless Mrs. Carrington wasthere, dealing out her fascinating smiles and bland words. She had thrownaside her mourning for the occasion and was arrayed in a dress of blackvelvet. An elegant lace bertha covered her white, beautiful neck, whileone of her fair arms was clasped by a diamond bracelet. To this braceletwas attached a small locket which contained the daguerreotype of him, uponwhose quiet grave the suns of scarce five months had risen and set. Amidthat brilliant scene she had no thought for the dead, but others wonderedmuch that he should be so soon forgotten. She was attended by Raymond, whoscarcely left her side during the whole evening, although she made severalineffectual attempts to shake him off, for she did not care to be too muchnoticed by a "poor Yankee schoolmaster."

　　Henry Ashton was also there, but his attention was wholly engrossed in thebright eyes and sunny face of Florence Woodburn, who had recently returnedfrom Philadelphia, where she had been attending for the last two years.Florence was the only daughter of the Mr. Woodburn, who was mentioned inthe first chapter of this narrative. Her father lived several miles fromthe city, but she had friends in town and spent much of her time there.She was very handsome and very agreeable, and as she would probably bequite an heiress, her appearance in the fashionable world created a greatsensation.

　　During the evening, as she was standing by Ashton and commenting onJulia's wondrous beauty, she said, "Where is the younger Miss Middleton?Is she as handsome as her sister?"

　　Ashton replied, "She is not called half as beautiful, but she is much moreamiable; but see there she comes," continued he, as Fanny entered the roomleaning on Stanton's arm.

　　She was so pale that her skin seemed almost transparent, but theexcitement of the evening brought a bright glow to her cheek which greatlyenhanced her loveliness. She was simply attired in a plain white muslin,low at the neck, which was veiled by the soft curls of her silken hair.Her arms were encircled by a plain band of gold, and a white, half-openedrosebud was fastened to the bosom of her dress.

　　As she entered the room many admiring eyes were turned toward her, andMiss Woodburn exclaimed, "Oh, how lovely she is. Her sister seems morelike the flashing diamond, while Fanny's beauty is like the soft lustre ofthe pearl. But tell me," she continued, "is she not engaged to a Dr. Laceyof New Orleans?"

　　"Yes, or, that is, it was so rumored," answered Ashton, "but he has gonehome, and since then I have heard nothing of it. Young Stanton seems veryattentive. I should not wonder if something grows out of it."

　　"Always making matches, Mr. Ashton," said Mrs. Carrington, who for amoment rid herself of Raymond and now came near Ashton and Florence. Shehad heard them speak of Dr. Lacey and Fanny, and as she knew Florence wassoon going to New Orleans, she wished to give her a little Frankfortgossip to take with her.

　　"Oh, Mrs. Carrington," said Mr. Ashton, bowing politely, "allow me tointroduce Miss Woodburn. We were just talking of the probability of MissFanny's being engaged to Dr. Lacey. Perhaps you can enlighten us."

　　"Oh," said Mrs. Carrington, "I assure you I know but little about thematter. It is rather uncertain whom Miss Fanny likes or dislikes. It iscurrently reported that she was in love with a Mr. Wilmot, who died, andwho was known to be engaged to her sister. Since then Dr. Lacey hasflirted with her, whether seriously or not I cannot tell; I should ratherthink not, however, for Mr. Stanton now seems to be the favored one."

　　"Oh," said Mr. Ashton, "I never supposed Fanny was so much of a coquette."

　　"Neither do I think she is," said Florence, whose heart warmed towardFanny as soon as she saw her.

　　"Perhaps she is not," said Mrs. Carrington. "Fanny is very young yet, butwhen fully matured will perhaps make a noble woman, but she has not thesolidity of her sister, who tries hard to keep her from assuming theappearance of a flirt." Then turning to Florence, she said, "I believe youare soon going to New Orleans?"

　　"Yes, madam," answered Florence.

　　"You will probably meet Dr. Lacey there," continued Mrs. Carrington."Perhaps you had better say nothing to him about Fanny's flirtation withStanton, for he would hardly believe it."

　　Florence merely nodded, thinking to herself that she should do as shechose about it. From the first she had been attracted toward Fanny. Therewas something in her face, and in the expression of her eye, whichinterested Florence. It seemed to her that Fanny would gladly have leftthe scene of gayety, and going out by herself, would have poured out allher soul in tears. She earnestly desired an introduction, and at last itwas obtained. There must have been some secret magnet which attractedthese young girls toward each other, for in a few moments they were arm inarm, talking familiarly upon different topics as though they had beenacquainted a lifetime.

　　Florence was a warm-hearted, affectionate girl, and after a time she said,"Miss Middleton, I am going to New Orleans soon. I believe you have anacquaintance there. If I see him what shall I tell him?"

　　Fanny's voice trembled slightly as she answered, "Tell whom?"

　　"Oh, Miss Middleton," said Florence, laughing gayly, "how that blushbecomes you! Tell whom? Why, whom should it be but Dr. Lacey, whoeverybody, except Mrs. Carrington, says is engaged to you."

　　The fire shot in to Fanny's eyes, but one look at the open face at herside assured her, and she answered, "I am not answerable for what theworld pleases to say of me."

　　"I am to consider the report true, then," persisted Florence.

　　A momentary struggle took place in Fanny's mind. Love and resentmentstrove for the mastery. The latter conquered, and the voice was calm anddecided which replied, "I assure you, Miss Woodburn, that Dr. Lacey bearsno relation to me except that of a common acquaintance."

　　"Indeed," said Florence. "I am sorry, for I was anticipating much pleasurein describing Dr. Lacey's intended lady to the New Orleans girls."

　　Fanny did not answer, and as Stanton just then approached, and asked herto go to the music room, she took his arm readily, glad to escape sopainful a conversation.

　　"She is a strange girl," thought Florence, "and yet I know I should loveher. I wonder what makes her so sad. Can it be that she really loved thatMr. Wilmot? At any rate, I am sorry for her and hope she will marry Mr.Stanton, who seems much pleased with her."

　　This was the impression left on Florence's mind, which was productive ofmuch mischief. At a late hour the company dispersed. Fanny returned home,weary and sick at heart. Her conversation with Florence had awakenedpainful reminiscences of the past, and the gray daylight was beginning tostreak the eastern horizon ere her heavy lids closed in slumber. In a fewdays Florence Woodburn departed for New Orleans, where her mother'sbrother resided. We will take passage with her and pay a visit to Dr.Lacey in his Southern home.