“My precious sunshine: 

“—­Can it be that you are sick?  I do not wish to think so; and yet what else can prevent your writing?  I have not a thought that you are forgetful of me, for you are too pure, too innocent to play me false.  And yet I am sometimes haunted by a vague fear that all is not right, for a dark shadow seems resting over me.  One line from you, dearest Fanny, will fill my heart with sunshine again—­”

Thus wrote the doctor, and Julia commented on it as follows:  “Yes, you are haunted, and I am glad of it.  The pill is working well; I’ll see whether ‘Sunshine,’ as you and my old fool father call her, will steal away everybody’s love for me.  I suppose I’m the dark shadow, for father calls me a spirit of darkness, and yet, perhaps, if he had been more gentle with me, I might have been better; but now it’s too late.”  And the letter was placed in the rosewood box by the side of its companions.

Slowly but surely the painful conviction fixed itself upon Fanny’s mind that Dr. Lacey was false.  It was dreadful to think so, but there seemed no other alternative, and Fanny’s heart grew sadder, and her step less joyous and elastic, while her merry laugh was now seldom heard ringing out in its clear, silvery tones, making the servants stop their work to listen and exclaim, “How lonesome t’would be without Miss Fanny; she’s the life of the house, Lor’ bless her.”

The change was noticed and spoken of by the inmates of Mrs. Crane’s dwelling.  Mr. Miller attributed it to a too close application to books, and recommended her to relax somewhat in her studies.  Fanny had too much of woman’s pride to allow anyone except Julia to know the real cause of her sadness, and was glad to have her languor ascribed to over-exertion.  On the night when Kate had found her weeping she had involuntarily told her secret, but she went to Mrs. Miller the next morning and won from her a promise not to mention what she had revealed, even to her husband.

Mr. Stanton’s presence seemed to divert Fanny’s mind, and the two weeks following his arrival passed away more pleasantly than she had thought two weeks could pass, uncheered by a line from Dr. Lacey.  At the end of that time it pleased Julia that Fanny should have a pretended letter from New Orleans.  Several days were spent in preparing it, but at last it was completed, folded, sealed and directed.  Mr. Dunn pronounced the deception perfect.  He stamped it with the Frankfort postmark so slightly that one would as soon have called it “New Orleans” as anything else.

Fanny was seated in the parlor in company with Stanton when Julia suddenly entered the room and said, “Oh, here you are, sister.  I’ve looked everywhere for you.  Here is a letter.”