Tempest and Sunshine Part 10

f.a.n.n.y sighed and turned away from the hard-hearted girl, who was left alone with her thoughts during all the long hours of that day. But to do her justice, we must say, that after her mother and sister were gone, a feeling of sadness stole over her; her stony heart somewhat softened, and in the solitude of her chamber she wept for a long time; but whether for Mr. Wilmot's death, her own conduct toward him, or the circ.u.mstances which surrounded her, none can tell.

Let us now return to Frankfort, and go back for a few moments in our story. Just as the funeral procession had left the house and was proceeding toward the church, the steamboat Diana, which plies between Cincinnati and Frankfort, appeared round a bend in the river. She was loaded with pa.s.sengers, who were all on the lookout as they neared the landing 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 was impatiently pacing the deck, and looking anxiously in the direction of the city. The knell was repeated, and she murmured, "Oh, what if that should be for Richard!" The thought overpowered her, and sitting down on a seat near her she burst into tears.

"Can I do anything for you?" said the captain, who at that moment pa.s.sed her.

"Nothing, except to land me in Frankfort as soon as possible," said the young 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 am anxious 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 see that it is sent there, for you probably will not wish to waste time in looking after it when we land."

Kate thanked him for his kindness; and when they reached the sh.o.r.e the kind-hearted man called one of his boatmen and ordered him to show Miss Wilmot the way to Mrs. Williams' residence. As Kate approached the house she noticed the air of desertion about it, and her heart sank for fear her brother 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 to attend the funeral. Kate accosted her by saying, "Does Mr. Wilmot live here?"

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

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

The woman replied, "Not too late to see him, if you're right spry. They've carried 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 were taking their last leave of him. Mrs. Middleton and Mr. Miller stood on one side of the coffin, while Dr. Lacey and f.a.n.n.y were on the other. f.a.n.n.y gazed long and earnestly upon the face of her teacher, as if she would stamp his likeness with daguerrean accuracy upon her heart.

She was turning sadly away, when a noise at the door caused all eyes to be directed that way. A pale, lovely face was seen looking anxiously in, and then a slight female figure advanced through the crowd, which gave way for her to pa.s.s. She pa.s.sed up the aisle till she reached the coffin, then bursting into a flood of tears, she wrung her hands, exclaiming, "My brother, oh my brother-are you indeed dead?" She then imprinted kiss after kiss 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 piercing cry of anguish, and fell fainting into the arms of Mr. Miller, who recognized 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 by half a dozen ladies, each insisting that the fair stranger should be taken to her house. First among these was Mrs. Crane, who saw by a glance at Kate that her presence would not be derogatory to any house, so she determined to have her taken to her own dwelling, and urged her claim so hard that Mr. Miller at last consented, thinking that Mrs. Williams must be wearied with the recent illness of Mr. Wilmot.

Accordingly, when Kate was again restored to consciousness, she found herself in an elegantly furnished room, with a gaily dressed, handsome lady sitting by her. This was Mrs. Carrington, whose delicate nerves would not suffer her to attend a funeral. On seeing Kate move, she spoke to her and asked her if she felt better.

"Yes, much better," said Kate; "but where am I? What has happened?" And then as the recollection of what had occurred came over her, she burst into tears and said, "My brother-they have buried him, I suppose, and I cannot 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. He had antic.i.p.ated Kate's wishes, and sent word that a carriage was waiting to convey her to the church, where she would have another opportunity of seeing her brother. Mrs. Carrington felt constrained to offer to accompany her, 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 f.a.n.n.y's attentions. She had taken great pains to comment upon them in Dr. Lacey's presence, saying, "that she had often suspected f.a.n.n.y of possessing a more than ordinary affection for Mr.

Wilmot, and she had sometimes thought her affection returned. For her part, she did not blame Julia for absenting herself from him, for she had probably discovered his preference for her sister." Her object in doing this was to make Dr. Lacey think less favorably of f.a.n.n.y, for with her practised eye she had discovered that for no other female did he feel such an interest as for "Little f.a.n.n.y Middleton," as she always termed her.

At the grave she noticed f.a.n.n.y's pale face and swollen eyes, and found occasion to say to her, loud enough for Dr. Lacey to hear, "I am astonished, f.a.n.n.y, to see you show to the world how much you loved your sister's betrothed."

This remark had no effect upon f.a.n.n.y, except causing her to look at Mrs.

Carrington in surprise and to wonder what she meant. With Dr. Lacey it was different. Imperceptibly, "Little f.a.n.n.y Middleton" had won a place in his heart which no other one had ever possessed. At first he admired her for her frank, confiding nature, and afterward he learned to love her for the many lovely traits of her character. He had thought it perfectly natural that she should feel a great interest in Mr. Wilmot, who was for so long a time a member of her father's family; but the wrong construction which was put upon her motives annoyed him, and even made him fearful that her heart might be more interested in Mr. Wilmot than he was willing to believe. As he 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 occasioned by the mere death of his friend. Mrs. Carrington observed it, and resolved to 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 with every possible attention which politeness or sympathy could dictate. A few days 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 that she was a sincere mourner?"

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

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

Dr. Lacey replied that it was f.a.n.n.y-Julia's younger sister; and then he told how faithfully she had watched over Mr. Wilmot during his illness. Of Julia he said nothing, and although Kate wished very much to know something concerning her, she determined not to question Dr. Lacey, but to wait and ask Mr. Miller, who, for some reason, seemed nearer to her than any other one of the strangers by whom she was surrounded. He had been solicited to take charge of the school, which was now dest.i.tute of a teacher, and as the situation pleased him, he readily accepted the offer and accepted Mrs. Crane's as his boarding place. Perhaps one inducement which led him to do this was the presence of the beautiful Kate, in whom he daily became more interested.

Years before, when but a boy in the boarding school at Canandaigua, he had often fancied that the time would come when he should both see and know the sister whom Richard Wilmot used to describe in such glowing terms.

Since then another image had filled his heart and he had dreamed of another face-not so fair, perhaps, but quite as innocent. But now the dream was sadly over, and he had never thought of the gentle f.a.n.n.y for a wife since that night when, as he supposed, he saw the dark side of her character. He, however, could not conquer his old partiality, and always spoke of her in the highest terms. Consequently, from his description of her, 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 induce Mrs. Middleton to send her daughters back to school. The next Sat.u.r.day was fixed upon for the visit, and at an early hour Mr. Miller and Kate were on their way to Mr. Middleton's.

Kate Wilmot was not only handsome, but was also very intelligent and agreeable, and by the time their ride was half-completed, Mr. Miller was more than half in love and was building air castles just as he had done months before when f.a.n.n.y was mistress of them all.

About noon they reached Mr. Middleton's, where they were received very kindly by Mrs. Middleton, very joyfully by f.a.n.n.y, and very coldly by Julia, whose face always wore a darker frown whenever Mr. Miller was present; but he apparently did not notice it, and went on conversing upon different subjects. At last he asked when Mr. Middleton was expected home.

"I am expecting him every day," said Mrs. Middleton, "and," she added in a lower tone, "I almost dread to have him come, for I do not know that he has 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, or how long he will remain there, that it is doubtful whether he ever received the letter. We heard from him a few days ago. He was then in Indiana, and as he said nothing about Mr. Wilmot, I presume he has not heard of his death."

Just as she had finished speaking, the dogs set up a great barking, and the negroes uttered the joyful cry of "Marster's come! Marster's come!"

The family ran to the door to meet him; but f.a.n.n.y could not wait for him to enter the house, neither could she stop to unfasten the gate, but clearing it with one bound, she was soon in the arms of her father, who uttered his usual, "Ha, ha," and said, "Well done, darling; you'll do for a cirkis rider. Are you glad to see your old pap?"

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

So saying, he entered the house, where after greeting his wife, Julia and Mr. Miller, he was introduced to "Miss Wilmot." He took her hand and looking at her for a moment, said, "Wilmot, Wilmot! Are you d.i.c.k's sister?"

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

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

f.a.n.n.y at last went up to him and said softly, "Father, Mr. Wilmot is dead!"

Mr. Middleton sank into the nearest chair, and covering his rough face with his hands, wept as freely as a little child. He had loved Mr. Wilmot with almost a father's love, and during his absence had not been unmindful of 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 as Julia's husband he would have a good influence over her, and improve her fractious disposition; and many were the plans which he had formed as to what he would do when Richard was really his son. But now he was gone forever. The blow was so sudden, so unexpected, that for several minutes he was stunned by its force and wept on in silence.

At last, lifting up his head, he turned to Kate and said, "You must not think me a silly old fool, child, for Lord knows old Josh Middleton hain't shed such tears since he was a little shaver and cried when they buried up his dead mother."