Tempest and Sunshine Part 29

down; 'pears like you don't moren't git fairly sot afore you have to hist up again, and you can't sleep to save you. Then they have streaked yaller and black prar books and keep a-readin' all meetin' time."

"Do your daughters prefer that church?" asked William.

"Why, yes," returned his brother; "or, that is, d.i.c.k, poor boy d.i.c.k, belonged thar; so did the young Leftenant Carrington; so does Dr. Lacey; and that's reason enough why Suns.h.i.+ne should prefer it. Tempest goes thar, I reckon, because its fas.h.i.+onable, and she can have a nice prar-book to show. You ought to see the one I bought for Suns.h.i.+ne. It's all velvety, and has gold clasps, with jest the word 'Suns.h.i.+ne' writ on it. Tempest has got a more common one. It didn't cost half as much."

"I notice that you make quite a distinction between your daughters," said William. "May I ask why you do it?"

Mr. Middleton stopped smoking and said, "If you please, Bill, I'd rather say nothin' about that now. I make it a rule never to swar Sundays, and if I got to goin' it about Tempest and the way she used poor d.i.c.k, I should have to swar and no mistake. Mebby you think I'd better not swar any time."

"Yes," answered William; "I should be glad if you would not. It is a bad habit, and I wish you would discontinue it."

"Well now, Bill," said Mr. Middleton, "Lord knows-no, I mean I know I've tried a heap of times to break off, and now I'll try again. I'll not cuss a word till I forget. d.i.c.k used to want me to stop, and when he died I promised myself I would; but the pigs and horses got into the corn, and fust I knew I was swarin' wus than ever. I wish you had seen d.i.c.k; it can't be; he's gone forever."

"Have you no daguerreotype of him?" asked William.

"No, I hain't, but his folks have; and Mr. Miller and Kate are going home this summer, and they'll fetch me one. That makes me think Suns.h.i.+ne is so puny and sick like, that I'm goin' to let her go North with them. It'll do her good; and I'm going to buy her four silk gowns to go with, but for Lord's-no, for land's sake don't tell Tempest."

"I hope you are not very anxious to have f.a.n.n.y go North," said William; "for it will seriously affect a plan which I have formed."

"Well, what is it?" asked Mr. Middleton.

William then told of the house he had purchased, and of his intention to take both his nieces back with him. "I know," said he, "that it seems strange to take them there in hot weather; but down by the lake it will be pleasant and cool, and I must have them with me."

"Have you said anything to them about it?" asked Mr. Middleton.

"Yes," answered his brother. "I have mentioned it to them."

"What did they say?"

"f.a.n.n.y said nothing, but Julia seemed much pleased with the idea," said William.

"I'll warrant that," returned Mr. Middleton. "She's tickled enough, and in her own mind she's run up a bill agin me for at least five hundred.

Suns.h.i.+ne is so modest, I s'pose, because Dr. Lacey will be there, that she does not want to seem very glad; but she'll go. I'll have them come home tomorrow, and will talk the matter over. I'd as soon have her go to New Orleans as to New York."

Here the conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Middleton, who came to tell her husband that it was past nine. Mr. Middleton had a great horror of being up after that hour, so he hastily bade his brother and Ashton good night, saying to the former, "Now I've got kind of used to your being alive, Bill, I hope I shan't have such pesky work goin' to sleep."

Next morning Ashton returned to Frankfort in the carriage which Mr.

Middleton had sent for the purpose of bringing his daughters home. For once in her life, Julia was delighted with the idea of visiting her parents. She had learned from a note which her mother had written that the reason of their being sent for was to talk over the matter of going to New Orleans. f.a.n.n.y felt differently. She wished, yet dreaded, to go home. She too knew why they were sent for; and as she was determined not to go to New Orleans, it would be necessary at last to tell her father the true reason. She was certain he would be unsparing in his wrath against Dr.

Lacey, and she almost trembled for the consequences.

When at last she was ready she descended to the parlor, and sitting down to her piano ran her fingers lightly over the keys. At that moment Frank Cameron entered. He had learned from his cousin, Kate, enough of f.a.n.n.y's history to make him fear that she never could be aught to him; and yet the knowledge that he could not, must not, hope to win her, only rendered the attraction stronger. He was intending to start for home the next day, and had now come to spend a few minutes alone with f.a.n.n.y ere he bade her good-by. As he entered the room she ceased playing, and said, "I believe you leave town tomorrow, do you not?"

"I do," replied Frank, "and am come to bid you good-by now; for when you return I shall probably be looking on the dust, smoke and chimneys of the Empire City." As f.a.n.n.y made no answer, Frank continued, "Miss Middleton, we shall meet again, I trust. Kate tells me that you are to accompany them to New York this summer. I shall expect you and shall watch anxiously for your coming."

f.a.n.n.y replied, "I have thought of going North with Mrs. Miller, but it is possible I may be disappointed."

"Disappointed!" repeated Frank; "you must not be disappointed, or disappoint me either. I would hardly be willing to leave Frankfort if I did not hope to see you again. And yet if we never do meet, I shall know that I am a better man for having once seen and known you; and I shall look back upon the few days spent in Kentucky as upon one of the bright spots in my life."

We do not know what f.a.n.n.y would have replied; for ere she had time to answer Julia appeared in the door, calling out, "Come, Fan, the carriage is ready. But, pray excuse me," continued she, as she saw Frank, "I had no idea that I was interrupting so interesting a conversation as your looks seem to indicate."

This increased f.a.n.n.y's confusion, but she endeavored to appear at ease; and rising up, she offered Frank her hand, saying, "I must bid you farewell, Mr. Cameron."

Frank took her hand, and quick as thought raised it to his lips. f.a.n.n.y's cheeks reddened as she hastily withdrew her hand, saying rather indignantly, "Mr. Cameron, I am surprised!"

Frank expected as much, and he said, rather gayly, "Pardon me, Miss Middleton, I could not help it, and would not if I could. It is all I ever hope to receive from you; and years hence, when I am a lone, lorn old bachelor, I shall love to think of the morning when I bade good-by to and kissed f.a.n.n.y Middleton."

A moment more and the carriage drove rapidly away. Frank watched it until it disappeared down the street; then turning away, he thought, "I have met and parted with the only person on earth who has power to awaken in me any deeper feeling than that of respect."

When Julia and f.a.n.n.y reached home, they were greeted kindly by both their parents and uncle. The latter had resolved to watch them closely, in order to ascertain, if possible, the reason of his brother's evident preference for f.a.n.n.y. During the morning nothing was said of the projected visit to New Orleans; and Julia was becoming very impatient, but she knew better than to broach the subject herself; so she was obliged to wait.

That evening the family, as usual, a.s.sembled on the little porch. f.a.n.n.y occupied her accustomed seat and low stool by the side of her father, whose pipe she filled and refilled; for he said, "The tobacker tasted a heap better after Suns.h.i.+ne had handled it."

Julia could wait no longer, and she began the conversation by asking her uncle something about New Orleans.

"Thar, I knew 'twould be so," said Mr. Middleton; "Tempest is in a desput hurry to know whether I'm going to cash over and send her to market in New Orleans."

"Well, father," said Julia, coaxingly, "you are going to let f.a.n.n.y and me go with Uncle William I know."

It was lucky for Julia that she chanced to mention her sister; for however much her father might be inclined to tease her, the word "f.a.n.n.y" mollified him at once, and he answered, "Why, yes, I may as well let you go as to keep you here doing nothing, and eating up my corn bread." Then drawing f.a.n.n.y nearer to him, he said, "I've talked some of letting Suns.h.i.+ne go to New York, but she'll jump at the chance of going to New Orleans, I reckon."

There was no answer, and as Julia was not particularly desirous of having her sister's silence questioned, she rattled on about her expected visit, and even went so far as to caress her father, because he had given his consent to her going. It was decided that Mr. William Middleton should return, as he had intended, in two weeks' time, so as to have everything in readiness for the reception of his nieces, who were to come on as soon as school closed, which would be about the tenth of June.

During all this time f.a.n.n.y said not a word; and at last it occurred to her father that she had neither expressed her desire nor willingness to go; so he said, "Come, Suns.h.i.+ne, why don't you hold up your head and talk about it? We all know you want to go mightily, and see that little doctor."

f.a.n.n.y knew it was of no use delaying longer and she answered gently, but decidedly, "Father, I have no desire to go to New Orleans. I cannot go."

"Fudge on being so very modest," replied Mr. Middleton. "It is nateral-like that you should want to see him, and n.o.body'll think less of you."

f.a.n.n.y answered, "You know I have thought of going to New York with Mr. and Mrs. Miller. I am still anxious to do so; but to New Orleans I cannot, shall not go, unless you command me to do so."

"Saint Peter!" said Mr. Middleton. "What's the row now? What's happened to make little Suns.h.i.+ne spirt up so? Don't you want to see Dr. Lacey, child?"

"No, father; I never desire to see him again."

The old cob pipe dropped from Mr. Middleton's mouth, and springing up, he confronted f.a.n.n.y, saying, "What in fury is this racket? You not wish to go to New Orleans, or see Dr. Lacey either! I half wish you was Tempest for a spell, so I could storm at you; but as it is Suns.h.i.+ne, I can't even feel mad."

"Oh, father, father!" cried f.a.n.n.y, weeping; "if you knew all that has occurred, you would not blame me."

"What do you mean, darling?" asked Mr. Middleton, suddenly becoming cool.

"What has happened?"

Then looking at Julia, whose face was crimson, a new idea struck him, and he exclaimed more wrathfully, "How now, Tempest? What makes you turn as red as a hickory fire? Have you been raising a rumpus between Dr. Lacey and Suns.h.i.+ne? Out with it if you have."

It was now Julia's turn to cry and appeal to her uncle, if it were not unjust in her father always to suspect her of evil, if anything were wrong. William very wisely kept silent, but f.a.n.n.y said, "Do not accuse Julia, for she is not guilty. She knows it all, however, and is sorry for it."

"Knows what? Sorry for what? Why don't you tell?" said Mr. Middleton, stalking back and forth through the porch, and setting down his feet as heavily as if he would crush everything which might fall beneath his tread.

"I cannot tell you now," said f.a.n.n.y; "but when we are alone, you shall know all."