Tempest and Sunshine

Mr. Miller drew Fanny toward him with the freedom of an elder brother,

and, in a low, earnest tone, said: "Did nothing else occur during my

visit, which could have changed my opinion of you?"

Fanny lifted her large blue eyes to Mr. Miller's face with so truthful,

wondering a gaze that he was puzzled. "Can it be," thought he, "that I did

not hear aright, that I was deceived? I will, at least, ask her how she

spent that evening," so he said: "Fanny, do you remember where you were,

or how you were occupied during the last evening of my stay at your

father's?"

At first Fanny seemed trying to recall the events of that night; then she

said: "Oh, yes, I remember now perfectly well. You and Mr. Wilmot had

letters to write, and went to your room early, while father and mother

went to one of the neighbors, leaving Julia and me alone in the sitting

room."

"Did you both remain in the sitting room during the evening?" continued

Mr. Miller.

"Yes," said Fanny, "or, that is, I stayed there all the time; but Julia

was gone a long time, and when she returned she would not tell me where

she had been."

"But were not you and Luce in your room at all that evening?" continued

Mr. Miller.

"Luce!" said Fanny; "I do not remember having seen her once that night;

neither was I in my room until bedtime."

There was so much frankness and apparent truth in Fanny's face and manner

that Mr. Miller never for a moment doubted her. His first feeling was one

of intense happiness at finding that Fanny was, indeed, all he had once

fancied her to be. Back through the channels of his heart rolled, for an

instant, the full tide of his once secretly nurtured affection for her. It

was for an instant, however; for one look at the beautiful Kate convinced

him that the love he once bore the gentle, timid girl at his side was

nought, when compared with the deep, ardent affection which he now felt

for his own cherished wife. "Fanny," said he, "I have wronged you in

thought, but never in word or deed, to my knowledge. I was, however,

grossly deceived, although I can see no object for the deception."

"What can you mean?" asked Kate, rather anxiously. "Do explain yourself,

and not deal in mysteries any longer. What dreadful thing did you imagine

Fanny had done--set the stables on fire, or abused the blacks--which?"