Tempest and Sunshine

Frank passed his hand through the thick curls of his brown hair, and

seemed to be trying hard to think of something. Finally he answered, "Why,

really, mother, I never once thought to ask that question."

"But," persisted Mrs. Cameron, "you can judge by her appearance, and that

of her parents. Did you not see them?"

Frank laughed loudly as the image of Uncle Joshua as he first saw him in

the door, buttoning his suspender, presented itself to his remembrance;

but he answered, "Yes, mother, I did see her father, and 'twas the richest

sight I ever saw."

He then proceeded to give a description of Mr. Middleton to his astonished

sister and mother, the latter of whom exhibited such distress that Frank

very compassionately asked, "if she had the toothache."

Before she had time to answer, Frank was gone, leaving his mother to

lament over the strange infatuation which always led Frank in pursuit of

somebody beneath him.

"I know," said she to Gertrude, "that this Fanny Middleton is from a

horrid low family, and is as poor as a church mouse."

So while Frank was hurrying toward the village of C----, his mother and

sister were brooding over the disgrace which they feared threatened them.

They could have spared all their painful feelings, for she of the "low

family" was destined to be another's.

During Frank's ride to C---- he determined, ere his return, to know the

worst. "She can but refuse me," thought he, "and even if she does, I shall

feel better than I do now." When he met Fanny his manner was so calm and

collected that she never dreamed how deep was the affection she had

kindled in his heart. She received him with real pleasure, for he seemed

like a friend from Kentucky. He staid with her but three days, and when he

left he bore a sadder heart than he had ever felt before. Fanny had

refused him; not exultingly, as if a fresh laurel had been won only to be

boasted of, but so kindly, so delicately, that Frank felt almost willing

to act it all over again for the sake of once more hearing Fanny's voice,

as she told him how utterly impossible it was for her ever again to love

as a husband should be loved.

"Then," said Frank, somewhat bitterly, "you acknowledge that you have

loved another."

"Yes," answered Fanny, "but no other circumstances could have wrung the

confession from me. I have loved and been deceived. I will not say my

faith in man's honor is wholly gone, for I believe you, Mr. Cameron, to be

perfectly sincere and honorable in your professions of regard. Had we met

earlier all might have been different, but now it is too late. If my

friendship is worth having, it is yours. I have never had a brother, but

will look upon and love you as one; with that, you must be satisfied."