They were the last words he ever uttered.  Falling back on his pillow, he drew Fanny’s face to his, and with his last breath kissed her quivering lips, and all was over.  Sadly Mr. Miller closed the eyes of his departed friend, and smoothing the covering about him, left him to the care of the servants.  A few hours later, Fanny entered the room with Dr. Lacey, again to look on the face of Mr. Wilmot.  The sun was just rising, and its first red rays fell upon the marble features of the dead.  There was on his face an expression so calm and heavenly that Fanny held her breath while looking at him, lest she should disturb his peaceful repose.  At length she kissed his cold forehead, and silently left the room which contained the pale sleeper.

In the course of a few hours she returned home, bearing the sad tidings, which was received by her mother with a burst of tears; but Julia preserved the same indifference which had been manifested throughout all Mr. Wilmot’s illness.  Hard-hearted as she was, there came a time in after years when that proud head was bowed with grief, and those dark eyes were bedimmed by tears of penitence, which could not atone for the past; for they were of no avail to bring back the dead from their silent resting place.

CHAPTER VI

Sunshine has two graves upon which to Plant flowers

Mr. Wilmot’s death occurred on Tuesday morning, and the following Thursday was appointed for his burial.  It was the 1st of September, and a bright, beautiful day; but its sunlight fell on many aching hearts, for though he who lay in his low coffin, so cold and still, was a “stranger in a strange land,” there were many whose tears fell like summer rain for one who had thus early passed away.  He had during his lifetime been a member of the Episcopal church, and his funeral services were to take place at Ascension Church.

The house was filled to overflowing.  Mr. Middleton, Mr. Miller, Dr. Lacey and Fanny occupied the front seat, as principal mourners for the deceased.  Many searching eyes were bent on the fair young girl, whose white forehead gleamed from under the folds of her veil, and whose eyelids, wet with tears, drooped heavily upon her pale cheek.  Madam Rumor had been busy with her thousand tongues, and the scene at the deathbed had been told and retold in twenty different forms, until at last it had become settled that on Fanny’s part there was some secret attachment, or she never would have evinced so much interest in Mr. Wilmot.  She, however, was ignorant of all this, and sat there wholly unconscious of the interest she was exciting.

Julia was not there.  She had again defied her mother’s commands, and resisted all Fanny’s entreaties, that she would go to the funeral.

“You ought to see Mr. Wilmot,” said Fanny.  “He looks so calm, so peaceful and,” she added in a low voice, “so forgiving.”

“So forgiving!” quickly repeated Julia.  “I wonder what he has to forgive.  If I had continued to love him, ’twould not have saved his life.”