Tempest and Sunshine Part 17

"Why, sister, I woke you up, didn't I?" said f.a.n.n.y. "I am sorry."

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

In the afternoon f.a.n.n.y again went to church, and Julia resumed the occupation of the morning. She succeeded so well that before church was out she felt sure that after a few more attempts she could imitate Dr.

Lacey's writing so exactly as to thoroughly deceive f.a.n.n.y. "But not yet,"

said she to herself; "I do not wish to test my skill yet. It is hardly time."

Thus the days glided away. Nearly two weeks pa.s.sed, and there came no answer to f.a.n.n.y'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 f.a.n.n.y had neglected writing so long. We will give the following extract:

"MY PRECIOUS SUNs.h.i.+NE:

"-Can it be that you are sick? I do not wish to think so; and yet what else can prevent your writing? I have not a thought that you are forgetful of me, for you are too pure, too innocent to play me false. And yet I am sometimes haunted by a vague fear that all is not right, for a dark shadow seems resting over me. One line from you, dearest f.a.n.n.y, will fill my heart with suns.h.i.+ne again-"

Thus wrote the doctor, and Julia commented on it as follows: "Yes, you are haunted, and I am glad of it. The pill is working well; I'll see whether 'Suns.h.i.+ne,' as you and my old fool father call her, will steal away everybody's love for me. I suppose I'm the dark shadow, for father calls me a spirit of darkness, and yet, perhaps, if he had been more gentle with me, I might have been better; but now it's too late." And the letter was placed in the rosewood box by the side of its companions.

Slowly but surely the painful conviction fixed itself upon f.a.n.n.y's mind that Dr. Lacey was false. It was dreadful to think so, but there seemed no other alternative, and f.a.n.n.y's heart grew sadder, and her step less joyous and elastic, while her merry laugh was now seldom heard ringing out in its clear, silvery tones, making the servants stop their work to listen and exclaim, "How lonesome t'would be without Miss f.a.n.n.y; she's the life of the house, Lor' bless her."

The change was noticed and spoken of by the inmates of Mrs. Crane's dwelling. Mr. Miller attributed it to a too close application to books, and recommended her to relax somewhat in her studies. f.a.n.n.y had too much of woman's pride to allow anyone except Julia to know the real cause of her sadness, and was glad to have her languor ascribed to over-exertion.

On the night when Kate had found her weeping she had involuntarily told her secret, but she went to Mrs. Miller the next morning and won from her a promise not to mention what she had revealed, even to her husband.

Mr. Stanton's presence seemed to divert f.a.n.n.y's mind, and the two weeks following his arrival pa.s.sed away more pleasantly than she had thought two weeks could pa.s.s, uncheered by a line from Dr. Lacey. At the end of that time it pleased Julia that f.a.n.n.y should have a pretended letter from New Orleans. Several days were spent in preparing it, but at last it was completed, folded, sealed and directed. Mr. Dunn p.r.o.nounced the deception perfect. He stamped it with the Frankfort postmark so slightly that one would as soon have called it "New Orleans" as anything else.

f.a.n.n.y was seated in the parlor in company with Stanton when Julia suddenly entered the room and said, "Oh, here you are, sister. I've looked everywhere for you. Here is a letter."

One glance at the superscription a.s.sured her that it was from Dr. Lacey. A bright, beautiful flush suffused f.a.n.n.y's face, which became irradiated with sudden joy. Asking Mr. Stanton to excuse her, she went to her rooms, so as to be alone when she perused the precious doc.u.ment. After she was gone, Julia spoke of Dr. Lacey and asked Stanton if he had ever heard from him. Stanton replied, "While Dr. Lacey was in college he spent a part of his vacations at my father's; but I almost always chanced to be absent at school, and consequently we are not much acquainted. He did write to me a few times while I was in college, but our correspondence gradually ceased and I have not heard from him in a long time. I hope he will return to Frankfort, for I should like to renew our acquaintance."

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

On reaching her apartment, f.a.n.n.y sat down on the sofa, while a tremulous nervousness shook her frame. She dreaded to open the letter, for a strange forboding of evil came over her. At last the seal was broken and f.a.n.n.y's heart stood still, and a dizziness crept over her as she read. For the reader's benefit we will look over her shoulder and read with her the following:

"MY ONCE DEAR AND STILL MUCH ADMIRED f.a.n.n.y: I hardly know how to write what I wish to tell you. If I knew exactly your opinion concerning me, I might feel differently. As it is I ardently hope that your extreme youth prevented my foolish, but then sincere, attentions from making any very lasting impression on you. But why not come to the point at once. f.a.n.n.y, you must try and forget that you ever knew one so wholly unworthy of you as I am. It gives me great pain to write it, but I am about to engage myself to another.

"Do not condemn me unheard. There is a young lady in this city, who is beautiful, wealthy and accomplished. Between her father's family and mine there has long existed an intimacy which our fathers seem anxious to strengthen 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 bait came the image of a pale, bright-haired girl, whose blue eyes looked mournfully into mine and whispered, 'Do not leave me.' But at last I yielded, and now, f.a.n.n.y, will you forgive me? It cost me more anguish to give you up than I hope you will ever feel. Be happy, f.a.n.n.y, and some time when I am traveling through Kentucky, let me find you the cheerful, contented wife of some one more suitable for you than I am. With kind wishes for your happiness, I remain,

"Your true friend,

"GEORGE LACEY."

"P.S.-It is just possible that the young lady and myself may not become engaged, but if we do not, after what has pa.s.sed, it will be best for you and me to try to forget each other. Give my compliments to your sister Julia. By the way, do you know that I always admired her very much? What a sensation she would make in the fas.h.i.+onable world of New Orleans. But pshaw! What nonsense I'm writing."

Alas for f.a.n.n.y! She did not need to read the letter twice, for every syllable had burned into her soul, and she could have repeated each word of the cruel message. This, then, was the end of her bright dream of bliss! She did not weep, for she could not. The fountain of her tears seemed 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 gathered round 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 gus.h.i.+ng from her nostrils and moistening the curls of her long hair. Julia's first feeling was one of intense horror, or fear her sister might be dead, but a touch a.s.sured her that f.a.n.n.y had only fainted. So she lifted her up, and bearing her to the window applied the usual restoratives. As Julia looked on the death-like face of her young sister she murmured, "Had I thought she loved him so well, never would I have done so wickedly."

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

At last f.a.n.n.y opened her eyes. Her first thought was for her letter, which was still tightly clenched in her hand. Pa.s.sing it to Julia she said, faintly, "Read it, sister."

Julia took it, and pretending to read it, burst into a violent pa.s.sion, abusing Dr. Lacey for his meanness, and ending by telling f.a.n.n.y that she ought to consider herself fortunate in escaping from such a man. f.a.n.n.y seemed disturbed to hear evil spoken of Dr. Lacey, so Julia changed her manner, and said, "I do not wonder you feel badly, f.a.n.n.y. You and I can sympathize together now."

f.a.n.n.y 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 is not 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 to love until I saw Dr. Lacey."

"Dr. Lacey!-You love Dr. Lacey!" said f.a.n.n.y, and again she fell back cold and motionless. A second time Julia restored her to consciousness, but for an 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 in hers, told her how truly she had loved Dr. Lacey, and how she had struggled against it when she saw that he loved another. "I have," said she, "lain awake many a night, and while you slept sweetly, dreaming, perhaps, of your lover, I have wept bitter tears because I must go alone through the cold world, unloved and uncared for. And forgive me, f.a.n.n.y, but sometimes I have felt angered at you, because you seemed to steal everybody's love from me. Our old father never speaks to me with the same affection which marks his manner when addressing you."

"I know it, I know it," said f.a.n.n.y. "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 for you. I could not have married one whom my sister loved." And then she suddenly added, "It seems doubtful whether he marries that young lady. If anything 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 f.a.n.n.y. "But if you were happy with him, I would try to be happy, too."

"G.o.d bless you, sweet sister," said Julia; "but it will never be."

f.a.n.n.y did not reply, and after a moment's silence Julia said, "Sister, if I were you I would keep all this a secret, and even if I were unhappy, I would try to a.s.sume a forced cheerfulness, for fear people would suspect the truth, and call me lovesick."

f.a.n.n.y did not reply to this either. She was trying to still the painful throbs of her aching heart. Through all the long, weary hours of that night she was awake. Sometimes she would watch the myriad host of stars, as they kept on their unwearied course through the clear, blue sky, and would 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, and although a choking sensation was in her throat, not a tear moistened her cheek. "I shall never weep again," thought she, "and why should I? The world 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 gayly I'll dance at the wedding. I'll hold my heart so fast that none shall ever know in how many pieces it is broken."

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

A physician was immediately called and by the means of powerful remedies the progress of the disease was checked, so that f.a.n.n.y was seriously ill for only a week. She was delirious a great part of the time, but Julia was delighted to find out that not one word of Dr. Lacey ever pa.s.sed her lips.

At the commencement of her illness her father and mother were sent for.

The old man came quickly, for f.a.n.n.y was his idol, and if she should die, he would be bereaved indeed. With untiring love he watched by her bedside until the crisis was pa.s.sed. He would fan her fevered brow, moisten her parched lips, chafe her hot, burning hands, smooth her tumbled pillow, and when at last he succeeded in soothing her into a troubled slumber, he would sit by her and gaze on her wan face with an earnestness which seemed to say that she was his all of earth, his more than all of heaven. Julia too was all attention. Nothing tired her, and with unwearied patience she came and went at her father's bidding, doing a thousand little offices pertaining to a sick chamber. For once her father's manner softened toward her and the tones of his voice were gentle and his words kind while speaking to his first born. Could he have known what part she had in causing the illness of his "darling Suns.h.i.+ne," all Frankfort would have shaken with the heavy artillery of oaths and execrations, which would have been disgorged from his huge lungs, like the eruption of some long pent-up volcano! But he did not suspect the truth, and in speaking of f.a.n.n.y's illness, he said, "It is studyin' so close that ailed her. As soon as ever she can bar to be moved, we will carry her home, and Aunt Katy'll nuss her up quicker."

Accordingly, as soon as the physician p.r.o.nounced it safe to move her, she was taken home, and by her mother's a.s.siduous care, and Aunt Katy's skilful nursing, her physical health was soon much improved. But no medicine could reach the plague spot which preyed upon her heart and cast a dark shadow over every feeling of pleasure. As soon as her health was fully restored, she asked permission to return to school. At first Mr.

Middleton refused, but not long did he ever withstand any request which "Suns.h.i.+ne" made. So at last he consented, on condition that she would give up the study of Latin, and promise not to apply herself too closely to anything. To this f.a.n.n.y readily agreed, and in a few days she was in Frankfort, occupying her accustomed seat at Mrs. Crane's and bending over her task in the old schoolroom, which seemed suddenly illuminated by her presence.

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

During her illness she thought much of what Julia had said relative to concealing her disappointment with an a.s.sumed gayety, and she resolved to do so, partly from wounded pride, and partly from love of her dear old father, who seemed distressed whenever anything troubled his "Suns.h.i.+ne."

When she returned to Frankfort none but the most acute observer would have suspected that the sparkling eye and dancing footstep were the disguise of a desolate, aching heart and that the merry laugh and witty repartee were but the echoes of a knell of sadness, whose deepest tones were stifled ere they reached the ear of the listener. In the darkness of night however, all was changed. The Suns.h.i.+ne was obscured, and Julia alone knew what anguish f.a.n.n.y endured. Still the cruel girl never wavered in her purpose.