“Why, Fanny,” said she, “what is the matter?  What are you crying for?”

Fanny did not reply, but as Mrs. Miller drew her up from the floor and placed her on the sofa, she laid her head in Kate’s lap and wept still more passionately.  At length Mrs. Miller succeeded in soothing her, and then insisted on knowing what was the cause of her distress.

“Oh,” said Fanny, “do not ask me, for I can only tell you that nobody loves me long at a time—­nobody but my dear old father, mother, and the blacks.”

“You should not say so, Fanny dear,” said Kate.  “You know we all love you very much, and you say that within a few weeks Julia has been uniformly kind and affectionate to you.”

“Yes, I know she is, but—­”

“But what?” said Mrs. Miller.  “Anything the trouble with Dr. Lacey?”

“Yes, that’s it!  That’s it!” said Fanny in a low voice.

“Why, what’s the matter?  Is he sick?” asked Kate.

“Oh, no.  If he were I would go to him.  But, Mrs. Miller, for four long weeks he has not written me one word.  Now if he were sick or dead, somebody would write to me; but it isn’t that—­I am afraid he’s false.  Julia thinks he is, and she is sorry for me, there is some comfort in that.”

“Not written in four weeks?  Perhaps he has written and his letters have been miscarried,” said Kate.

“Oh, no, that cannot be,” answered Fanny.  “His first four letters came in the course of two weeks, but since then I have not had a word.”

“Have you written to him since his letters ceased?” asked Kate.

“Yes, once, and I am sorry I did,” answered Fanny; “but I asked Julia if I had better, and she said it would do no harm.”

“Perhaps,” said Mrs. Miller, “he is intending to return soon and wishes to surprise you, or it may be he is testing the strength of your attachment.  But I would not suffer myself to be so much distressed until I was sure he was false.  Come, dry your eyes and go with me to the parlor.  There are some young gentlemen here from New York.  One of them is Dr. Lacey’s cousin.  He wishes to see you.”

“Oh, no, no!” said Fanny, quickly.  “I cannot go down.  You must excuse me to him.”

So Mrs. Miller returned to the parlor, and said Fanny was not feeling very well and wished to be excused.

Stanton and Raymond passed a very pleasant evening, and ere its close they had arranged with Mrs. Crane for rooms and board.  On their way to the hotel, Raymond suddenly exclaimed, “I say, Bob, I’m head over heels in love!”

“In love with whom?” was Stanton’s quiet reply.

“In love with whom?” repeated Raymond.  “Why, Bob, is it possible your head is so full of Nellie Ashton that you do not know that we have been in company this evening with a perfect Hebe, an angel, a divine creature?”

“Please stop,” said Stanton, “and not deal in so many superlatives.  Which of the fair ladies made such havoc with your heart?  Was it Mrs. Crane?”