Tempest and Sunshine

"Why, sister, I woke you up, didn't I?" said Fanny. "I am sorry."

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

done my head good."

In the afternoon Fanny 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 Fanny. "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 passed, and there came no

answer to Fanny'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 Fanny had

neglected writing so long. We will give the following extract: "MY PRECIOUS SUNSHINE: "--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 Fanny, will fill my

heart with sunshine 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

'Sunshine,' 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 Fanny's mind

that Dr. Lacey was false. It was dreadful to think so, but there seemed no

other alternative, and Fanny'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 Fanny; she's the life of

the house, Lor' bless her."