In her sleep she dreamed that her father prayed. She awoke and found it

true. "Come nearer to me, father," said she. He did so, and then among his

thick gray locks she laid her thin white hand and prayed.

It was a beautiful sight, and methinks the angels hovered round as that

young disciple, apparently so near the portals of heaven, sought to lead

her weeping father to the same glad world. Her words were soothing, and

o'er his darkened mind a ray of light seemed feebly, faintly shining.

Before the morning dawned he had resolved that if there still was hope for

him he would find it. Many a time during the succeeding days he prayed in

secret, not that Fanny might be spared, but that he might be reconciled to

God. His prayer at length was answered, and Uncle Joshua was a changed

man. He showed it in everything, in the expression of his face and in the

words he uttered. For his Sunshine he still wept, but with a chastened

grief, for now he knew that if she died he would see her in heaven.

Where now was Dr. Lacey? Knew he not of the threatened danger? At his

father's bedside, where for many days his place had been, he had received

from Mr. William Middleton a letter announcing Fanny's illness, which,

however, was not then considered dangerous. On learning the contents of

the letter, the elder Mr. Lacey said, turning to his son, "Go, George, go;

I would not keep you from her a moment." The doctor needed no second

bidding, and the first steamer which left New Orleans bore him upon its

deck, anxious and impatient.

Fast the days rolled on, and they who watched Fanny alternately hoped and

feared, as she one day seemed better and the next worst. Of those days we

will not speak. We hasten to a night three weeks from the commencement of

her illness, when gathered in her room were anxious friends, who feared

the next day's sun would see her dead. Florence, Kate and Mrs. Miller were

there, with tearful eyes and saddened faces. Frank Cameron, too, was

there. Business, either real or fancied, had again taken him to Kentucky,

and hearing of Fanny's illness, he had hastened to her.

She had requested to be raised up, and now, leaning against her Uncle

William, she lay in a deep slumber. In a corner of the room sat Uncle

Joshua, his head bowed down, his face covered by his hands, while the

large tears fell upon the carpeting, as he sadly whispered, "It'll be

lonesome at night; it'll be lonesome in the morning; it'll be lonesome

everywhar."




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