There was so much frankness and apparent truth in Fanny’s face and manner that Mr. Miller never for a moment doubted her.  His first feeling was one of intense happiness at finding that Fanny was, indeed, all he had once fancied her to be.  Back through the channels of his heart rolled, for an instant, the full tide of his once secretly nurtured affection for her.  It was for an instant, however; for one look at the beautiful Kate convinced him that the love he once bore the gentle, timid girl at his side was nought, when compared with the deep, ardent affection which he now felt for his own cherished wife.  “Fanny,” said he, “I have wronged you in thought, but never in word or deed, to my knowledge.  I was, however, grossly deceived, although I can see no object for the deception.”

“What can you mean?” asked Kate, rather anxiously.  “Do explain yourself, and not deal in mysteries any longer.  What dreadful thing did you imagine Fanny had done—­set the stables on fire, or abused the blacks—­which?”

Mr. Miller did not immediately answer; and Fanny said:  “Come, Mr. Miller, it is not fair to suspect me of evil and not tell what it is.  You should be more frank.”

“I will tell you,” said Mr. Miller; and, in as few words as possible he repeated to Fanny the conversation which he had overheard, between Luce and herself, as he supposed.

When he finished speaking, both Kate and Fanny were silent for a moment; then Kate said:  “It was Julia, I know it was.  Did you ever notice how much alike their voices are?  And, besides, I once heard Julia lay a wager with Mr. Raymond that she could imitate her sister’s voice so exactly that one, not seeing her, would be thoroughly deceived.”

“Oh, Mrs. Miller,” said Fanny, “it cannot be!  Why should Julia wish to do so wicked a thing?  And yet I now remember that when I was sick, Luce came to me one night and asked me to forgive her for everything bad she had ever done to me.  I assured her I knew of nothing to forgive; and then she cried, and said I did not know all she did about her wickedness.  She must have referred to that night.  I can forgive her; for she is a poor ignorant girl, and much afraid of Julia.  But how could my own sister do me so great a wrong, and what could have been her object?”

Here Fanny burst into tears, while Kate gave vent to her indignation by expressing her opinion pretty freely of Miss Julia.

“I can see,” said she, “what Julia’s object was.  I fancy she was always fearful lest my brother should like Fanny the best; and she probably took this method to make you both think meanly of Fanny.”

“Your idea is, probably, the correct one,” said Mr. Miller, who would have added more, but Kate interrupted him by saying, “Yes, I think I understand it all now.  Julia is, probably, at the foundation of Dr. Lacey’s neglect.  Most likely she’s been writing him some base falsehood.”

“Dr. Lacey’s neglect!” repeated Mr. Miller.  “What do you mean?”