That night was fast merging into the hours of morning ere the sound of Uncle Joshua’s footsteps ceased, as again and again he traversed the length and breadth of his sleeping room, occasionally stopping before the window and peering out in the darkness toward the spot where he knew lay that newly-made grave.  Memory was busily at work, and in the events which marked Julia’s short life, oh, how much he saw for which to blame himself.  Remorse mingled in the old man’s cup of affliction, and while the hot tears rolled down his cheeks he exclaimed, “If she could only come back and I could do it over, I’d love her more, and maybe she’d be better.  But I treated her mean.  I gin her only harsh words and cross looks.”  Then as his wife’s tears mingled with his, he took her hand, saying, “Don’t take on so, Nancy, you’ve nothin’ to cry for.  You’s always good to her and kind o’ took up for her when I got sot ag’in her.”

Mrs. Middleton could only answer by her tears to this touching attempt at sympathy, but she finally succeeded in quieting her husband, and before daybreak, he had forgotten in sleep the injustice done to Julia.  All thoughts of Fanny’s marriage for the present were of course given up, although Mr. Middleton promised that when the autumn came round again he would surely give his treasure to the care of another.

Two weeks after Julia’s burial, all of which time was passed at Mr. Middleton’s, Dr. Lacey went back to New Orleans, having first placed in Mr. Middleton’s care a sum of money for the benefit of Mrs. Dunn, promising Fanny that with the spring he would come again.  He bade her adieu, praying that nothing might come between them again.  Heavily now dragged the days at Mr. Middleton’s, until Uncle Joshua hit upon a plan which would not only give pleasure to Fanny, but would also relieve the tedium of his own life.  It was nothing more nor less than the erection of a new house on a grassy lawn, which Fanny had frequently pointed out as being a good location.  Long he revolved in his mind the for and against, but the remembrance of Julia’s wish to have the “old shell fixed up,” finally decided him.  “If ’twasn’t good enough for her to be married in, it surely wasn’t good enough for Sunshine.”

At the breakfast table he first announced his intention, causing Fanny in her surprise and joy not only to drop her knife, but also to upset her coffee.  “All right,” said he, “I’ll do it, if it breaks me.  We’ll have a buster,” said he, “marble mantletrys, windows that come to the floor, Brussels carpets, and if you’re a mind to, you may have them four-legged split things, though, Lord knows I’ll never eat with them.”

In a short time the necessary arrangements were completed.  A large number of men were hired and matters progressed so rapidly that there was every probability of the house being completed early in June, should the winter season prove favorable.

Here we may as well relate a little circumstance which occurred to Fanny during the winter.  Bill Jeffrey, who, it will be remembered, had always felt a predilection for her, emboldened by the kindness of her manner, now determined to make his wishes known.  Accordingly, he sent her numerous little cakes of maple sugar, besides giving her many knowing winks, his usual method of showing his preference.