And now but a short time remained ere the Diana would loose her moorings and be under way.  These few moments were moments of sorrow to Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, who had accompanied their daughters to Frankfort.  Uncle Joshua particularly was much depressed, and scarce took his eyes from his treasure, who might be leaving him forever.  In his estimation the far-off North was a barren, chilly region, and although he did not quite believe his Fanny would be frozen to death, he could not rid himself of the fear that something would befall her.

“You’ll take good keer of her, won’t you, Miller?” said he, “and bring her safely back to us?”

Mr. Miller gave the promise, and then observing that there was something else on Mr. Middleton’s mind, he said, “What is it, Mr. Middleton?  What more do you wish to say?”

Mr. Middleton struggled hard with his feelings, and his voice sank to a whisper as he answered, “I wanted to tell you that if—­if she should die, bring her home—­bring her back; don’t leave her there all alone.”

The old man could say no more, for the bell rang out its last warning.  The parting between Fanny and her parents was a sad one, and even Julia wept as she kissed her sister, and thought it might be for the last time.

Soon after the Diana, with its precious freight disappeared from view, Mr. Middleton was called upon to bid another farewell to his eldest daughter.  “Reckon the old fellow likes one girl better than the other,” said a bystander, who had witnessed both partings.  And yet Mr. Middleton did well, and his look and manner was very affectionate as he bade Julia good-bye, and charged her “not to be giddy and act like a fool, nor try to come it over Dr. Lacey.”  “Though,” thought he, “it’ll be sarvin the rascal right if he should have to live with Tempest all his life.”

It is not our intention at present to follow Julia in her passage to New Orleans.  In another chapter we will take up the subject, and narrate her adventures.  Now we prefer going North with the other party, which consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Fanny and Raymond.  The latter had, in a fit of desperation, determined to quit Frankfort, and go no one knew whither.  He accompanied his friends as far as Cincinnati, and there bade them adieu, saying that they would hear of him again in a way they little dreamed of.

Mr. Miller was sorry to part with one who had proved so valuable an assistant in his school, but all his arguments had failed and he was obliged to give him up, saying, “I hope, Raymond, that all your laudable enterprises may be successful.”

“I shall succeed,” were Raymond’s emphatic words; “and she, the haughty woman, who tried to smile so scornfully when I bade her farewell, will yet be proud to say she has had a smile from me, a poor school master.”

“Well, Raymond,” said Mr. Miller, “you have my good wishes, and if you ever run for President, I’ll vote for you.  So now good-by.”