JULIA AT HOME AGAIN
Overcome with fatigue and excitement, Julia immediately after her fatherleft her on the preceding night, had fallen into a deep sleep, which wasunbroken till long after dawn. Then she was aroused by her father callingup the negroes. Hastily starting up, she looked around her and, for amoment, strove to remember what had happened. Soon she remembered all, andburying her face in the pillows, she sobbed out: "Father, I thank Thee;the prodigal is at last at home."
Hastily arising she proceeded with her toilet, which was nearly completedwhen Fanny tapped gently at the door, and immediately entered the room,saying, "Good morning, dear Julia. I am so glad you really are here andthat it is not a dream. But come, breakfast is waiting and so is father,and so is--so is--George."
"Oh, I can't see him, I can't," said Julia, and Fanny answered, "Oh, nevermind him. I have told him all about it, and he is ready to receive you asa sister."
So saying, she led the reluctant girl down the long staircase, through thewide hall to the door of the breakfast room, where Mr. Middleton stoodwaiting for them. His tones and manner were very affectionate as he kissedthe wanderer, and said, "I am so glad you're here."
Julia could have wept, but she would not. There was yet another to meet,and choking down her tears she nerved herself for the trial. Of whatoccurred next she knew nothing until her cold white hand was clasped byanother so warm, so life-giving in its touch that she raised her eyes andmet the calm, quiet gaze of Dr. Lacey. Neither of them spoke until Julia,averting her eyes, said, "Am I forgiven?"
"You are," was the answer, and then Uncle Joshua exclaimed, "thar, that'lldo. Now come to your breakfast, children, for I'm mighty hungry, andshan't wait another minute."
After breakfast Julia was greatly surprised at seeing her father take fromthe bookcase the old family Bible, on whose dark dusty covers sheremembered having many a time written her name. All was now explained. Herfather's gentleness of look and manner were accounted for; and as for thefirst time in her life she knelt by his side and heard him as he prayed,her heart swelled with emotion, and she longed to tell him, though shedared not hope she was a Christian, she was still trying to lead adifferent, a better life.
That afternoon in her chamber were seated Mr. Middleton and Fanny, whileJulia recounted the story of her wanderings. "The idea of leaving myhome," said she, "was not a sudden impulse, else had I returned sooner,but it was the result of long, bitter reflection. In the first days of myhumiliation I wished that I might die, for though the thought of death andthe dread hereafter made me tremble, it was preferable to the scorn andcontempt I should necessarily meet if I survived. Then came a reaction,and when our angel mother glided so noiselessly around my sick room; whenyou, darling Fanny, nursed me with so much care, and even father's voicegrew low and kind as he addressed me, my better nature, if I had any, wastouched, and I thought I would like to live for the sake of retrieving thepast. But the evil spirit which has haunted me from infancy whispered thatas soon as I was well all would be changed. You, Fanny, would hate me, andfather would treat me as he always had, only worse."
"Poor dear child! I didn't or'to do so, I know," said Uncle Joshua, andJulia continued: "Then I thought how the world would loathe, and despiseand point at me, until I was almost maddened, and when Dr. Gordon said Iwould live, the tempter whispered suicide; but I dared not do that. Aboutthat time I heard rumors of a marriage which would take place as soon as Iwas well; and Fanny will you forgive me? I tried to be sick as long aspossible for the sake of delaying your happiness."
A pressure of the hand was Fanny's only answer, and Julia proceeded: "Icould not see you married to him. I could not meet the world and itscensure, so I determined to go away. I had thirty dollars in my purse, ofwhich no one knew, and taking that I started, I knew not where. Onreaching the schoolhouse something impelled me to enter it, and I foundthere a young girl about my own size. Under other circumstances I mighthave been frightened, but now utterly fearless, I addressed her, and foundfrom her answers that she was crazy. A sudden idea entered my brain. Iwould change clothes with her, and thus avoid discovery. She willinglyacceded to my proposition, and in my new attire I again started towardLexington, which I reached about four in the morning. I had no definiteidea as to where I wanted to go, but the sight of the Cincinnati stagedrawn up before the Phoenix determined me. I had purposely kept my ownbonnet and veil, as the maniac girl wore neither. Drawing the latter overmy face, I kept it there while securing my place in the coach, and untilwe were many miles from the city. Passengers entered and left, and somelooked inquisitively at me and my slightly fantastic dress.
"We reached Cincinnati about ten in the morning, and with a long gladbreath I stepped from the coach, and felt that Kentucky and my notoriouscharacter were behind. I stopped at the ---- Hotel, and the next two dayswere spent in procuring myself a decent outfit. Each night I went to adifferent house, for the sake of avoiding suspicion, and as my bills werepromptly paid, no questions were ever asked. At the D---- House I saw in apaper an advertisement for a teacher in a school in one of the interiortowns. I had formed some such plan for the future, and instantlydetermined personally to apply for the situation. I did so, butcredentials were required, and I had none to give. Somewhat weary of myadventure I returned to Cincinnati, and in passing through one of thestreets, my eye caught the sign 'Fashionable Dressmaking and Millinery.' Iknew I had a taste for that, and I concluded to offer myself as anapprentice."
Then she told how she had toiled on day after day with dim eye and achinghead for over a year in the unwholesome atmosphere of a crowded workshopconducted by a slave-driving, inconsiderate woman named Miss Dillon, whilethoughts of home and remorse for the past preyed on her heart.
"But why did you not come back?" asked Fanny. "We would have received youmost gladly."
"I felt that I could not do that," said Julia. "I knew that you thought medead, and I fancied that father, at least, would feel relieved."
"Oh, child," groaned Uncle Joshua, "don't say so. I was mighty mean, Iknow, but I never got to that."
After a moment Julia told them that she had had to deliver a party dressto Florence Woodburn at Mr. Graham's house one evening and, while waitingin the hall, had heard Florence read a letter from Nellie Stanton aloud toAlice Graham. In the letter, Nellie said that Mrs. Middleton was notexpected to live and that Dr. Lacey and Fanny from New Orleans were withher.
This news caused her to resign her position at Miss Dillon's and hurryhome. "I reached Lexington," said she, "about nine o'clock in the evening,and as I thought my baggage might incommode me, I purposely left it there,but hired a boy to bring me home. When we reached the gate at the entranceof the woods I told him he could return, as I preferred going theremainder of the way alone. He seemed surprised, but complied with myrequest. I had never heard of the new house, and as I drew near I waspuzzled, and fancied I was wrong; but Tiger bounded forward, at firstangrily, then joyfully, and I knew I was right. All about the house was sodark, so still, that a dreadful foreboding filled my heart--a fear thatmother might be dead. I remembered the little graveyard and instantly bentmy steps thither. I saw the costly marble and the carefully kept grave,and a thrill of joy ran through my veins, for they told me I was kindlyremembered in the home I had so darkened. But another object riveted myattention. It was a fresh mound, and I knew full well who rested there.Never have I shed such tears of anguish as fell upon the sod which coversmy sainted mother. In the intensity of my grief I was not conscious ofFanny's approach until she stood near me. The rest you know; and now,father, will you receive to your home and affection one who has so widelystrayed?"
"Willin'ly, most willin'ly," said Uncle Joshua, as he folded her to hisbosom, "and if I had done as I or'to, a heap of this wouldn't havehappened. Oh, I didn't or'to do so, I didn't; and I ain't goin' to anymore. You shall live with me when Sunshine's gone; and we would be sohappy, if your poor mother could only see us and know it all."
From that time nothing could exceed Uncle Joshua's kindness to hisdaughter. He seemed indeed trying to make up for the past, and frequentlyhe would whisper to himself, "No, I didn't or'to do so. I see more andmore that I didn't." Still his fondness for Fanny was undiminished, andoccasionally, after looking earnestly at both his children, he wouldexclaim, "Hang me, if I don't b'lieve Sunshine is a heap the handsomest";but if these words caused Julia any emotion, 'twas never betrayed.
From Julia's story there could be no doubt that the maniac girl was laidin the grave which Uncle Joshua had thought belonged to his daughter. Notidings of her had been heard, although one gentleman thought that he oncehad met with a girl answering to her description in the stage coachbetween Lexington and Cincinnati. All search in that quarter wasunavailing, and over her fate a dark mystery lay, until Julia suddenlyappeared and threw light on the matter. The afflicted father (for she hadno mother) was sent for, and when told where his child was laid, askedpermission to have her disinterred and taken to his family burial place.His request was granted, the grave was opened, and then refilled andleveled with the earth. The monument Julia took care to have carefullypreserved as a memento of the olden time.
As will be supposed, Julia's return furnished the neighborhood andsurrounding country with a topic of conversation for many weeks. At firstnearly all treated her with cool neglect, but as she kept entirely athome, curiosity to see one who had, as it were, come back from the deadtriumphed over all other things; and at last all who came to see Fannyasked also for her sister.
Among the few who at once hastened to give the penitent girl the hand offriendship was Kate Miller; and as she marked her gentle manner and thesubdued glance of her still somewhat haughty eyes, she wound her arm abouther neck and whispered, "I shall in time learn to love you dearly for thesake of more than one."
Julia comprehended her, or thought she did, and answered, "Oh, Mrs.Miller, that one dreadful crime has troubled me more than all the rest. Ikilled him, your noble brother, and from the moment I deliberatelydetermined to do so I became leagued with the tempter, who lured me madlyon. But I outdid myself, and was entangled in the snare my own hands hadlaid."
"It is ever so," answered Kate. "Our most secret sins will in the end findus out."
The reader is perhaps anxious to know whether back across the Atlantic,Ashton brought his Spanish bride. Yes, he did. Mr. William Middletonaccompanied him to the house of Sir Arthur Effingham, whom they found tobe dying; his property was gone, and he feared that he must leave theyouthful Inez to the cold charities of the world and a miserly brother.When Mr. Middleton made himself known, the dying man pointed to Inez, andsaid, "You once loved the mother; care for the daughter when I am gone,will you?"
"I will," answered Mr. Middleton, "on condition that you consent to havinga young friend of mine share the care with me." At the same time hepresented Ashton.
Sir Arthur recognized him immediately and answered, "Willingly, mostwillingly. I was a fool to spurn you once as I did."
In a few hours Sir Arthur was dead, and Inez was an orphan. But her griefwas soothed by the presence of Ashton, who, a few days before sailing forAmerica, made her his wife. During the voyage Mr. Middleton informedAshton that as soon as he reached home he intended making his will, bywhich he should bequeath his property to Inez. Said he, "I have spent somany years of my life in India that I find the climate of New Orleans morecongenial to my feelings than a colder one would be, consequently I shallpurchase a house in that city, and as I look upon you and Inez as mychildren, I shall insist upon your living with me if you have noobjection."
During the winter Fanny wrote frequently to her father urging him to visither; but this he declined doing, and early the following May, he stood oneevening impatiently awaiting the arrival of Ike, who had gone to Frankfortwith the expectation of meeting Fanny and her husband. Everything had beenput in readiness. The parlors and best chamber were opened and aired. Thecarriage and carriage horses had been brushed up, a new saddle had beenbought for Fanny's pony, and a new dress for each of the black women, andeverything and everybody seemed expecting a joyful time.
As the carriage approached the house Uncle Joshua looked wistfully towardit, trying to catch a glimpse of "Sunshine," whom he had not seen fornearly a year and a half. But only the face of a little negro girl wasseen looking from the window, and Uncle Joshua exclaimed, "Now, what'spossessed them to fetch that yaller gal! I've got niggers enough to waiton 'em."
But the "yaller gal" knew very well why she was there, and so ere long didUncle Joshua. The steps were let down, and there, blithesome and gay asever, Fanny sprang from the carriage and ran into the arms of her father,who kissed her again and again, holding her off to look at her and thenagain drawing her to him and saying, "You're handsomer than ever."
During this process the yellow girl, Rose, had brought from the carriage amysterious looking bundle of flannel and white cambric, which now in Dr.Lacey's arms was crowing with delight as its little nurse bobbed up anddown, making at it all sorts of grimaces.
"What the ----, no, I forgot, I didn't mean so. But what--is--that!" saidUncle Joshua, releasing Fanny and advancing toward Dr. Lacey, who proudlyplaced in his arms a beautiful nine-month-old baby, saying, "We havebrought you a second Sunshine."