“I did,” answered Mrs. Miller.

“And I, too,” repeated Mrs. Carrington, “but you spurned my letter and treated me with contempt.”

“Never, never,” scarcely articulated Dr. Lacey.  “I never received them; but call Rondeau; he must know something of it.”

Rondeau, who had accompanied his master, was called.  Explanation followed explanation, testimony crowded upon testimony, and Julia acknowledged all, until at length Dr. Lacey, frantic with the sense of wrong done him, turned to her and said, “Base woman, why have you done this?  Your sin has found you out ere it was too late; for, thank God, you are not my wife, nor ever will be!”

Julia now lost all command of herself.  Tearing the bridal veil from her brow, she rent it in twain; then from her arm she snatched her diamond bracelet, and trampled it under her feet, while a stream of blood issued from her mouth and stained her white satin dress.  A moment more, and she too was extended on the floor by the side of her ally.

Where during this exciting scene was Fanny?  The direful sounds had reached her ear, and now at the head of the stairs she listened to the Babel which reigned in the parlor.  High above all other voices she distinguished her father’s, who, in his uncontrollable fury, was calling to use all the oaths he had ever heard of, besides manufacturing some expressly for the occasion!  Then there was a heavy fall, accompanied by a cry from Mrs. Middleton of, “Lift her up—­carry her out.  Don’t you see she is dying?”

Fanny hesitated no longer, but quickly descending the stairs, she forced her way through the blacks into the parlor, where she stood appalled at the scene before her.  On the floor lay Julia, who a few moments before stood there resplendent in beauty.  Near her sat the maniac, Joseph Dunn.  He had recovered from his fainting fit, and was now crouching over the prostrate form of Julia, laughing in delirious glee, as he wiped from her lips the red drops of blood!  In a corner of the room a group had gathered, near an open window, through which they were bearing an inanimate object.  It was Florence, who had fainted, and as it seemed impossible to effect a passage through the hall, so filled was it with terrified servants, they had sought the window as the best means of egress.

Suddenly over that excited assembly there came a deep silence.  It was caused by the appearance of Fanny, who, with her loose white muslin wrapper, and long curls, which floated over her shoulders, seemed like some being from another world, come to stay that storm of passion.  Mabel, who was occupied with her cousin, looked back as the calm hush fell upon them, and then and there she first saw Fanny Middleton.  The scene was too much for Fanny, and she, too, would have fainted had not Dr. Lacey caught her in his arms.  Clasping her slight form passionately to his bosom, he exclaimed, “My own—­my Fanny—­my wife, for such you are, and such you will be!”