of laughter, she was determining whether it were best to confess the whole and seem sorry for it, or to strenuously deny it.  Finally, she decided on the former, but resolved not to give the right reason for her conduct; so she said, with an air of great penitence:  “Yes, Fanny, I am guilty, and I am glad you know it, too.  I have been on the point of acknowledging it to you many times, but shame kept me silent.”

“How could you do it, and what did you do it for?” asked Fanny.

Julia replied, “Truth compels me to say that I feared your influence over Mr. Wilmot.  I knew how much he admired amiability in females, and I wished to make him think you were no more amiable than other people.”

“And yet you say you never cared for his love,” continued Fanny.

Miss Julia was getting cornered; but her evil genius did not forsake her, and she answered, “True, I did not care much for him; but I felt flattered with his attentions and I ardently desired to have one person prefer me to you.  I know it was wicked in me to do what I did, but you will forgive me, will you not?  And I will promise never again to act so deceitfully toward you.”

Always sincere in what she said herself, Fanny could not think her sister otherwise; so her hand was extended in token of forgiveness.  Julia took it, and raising it to her lips, kept it there for an instant, in order to conceal the treacherous smile of exultation which played round her mouth.  “I shall yet triumph,” thought she, and, in the exuberance of her joy, she kissed again the soft hand which she held in her grasp.  Could Fanny have looked into the heart of her sister, and beheld all its dark designs, she would have fled from her presence as from a poisonous serpent.  But, though she was deceived, there was one, the All-seeing One, whose eye was ever upon the sinful girl; and though for a while she seemed to prosper, the same mighty Power so ordered it, that after a time, she who had sown the tempest reaped the whirlwind; and the clouds which hung so heavy and dark around the pathway of her innocent victim, afterward burst with terrific violence upon her own head.

We will now return to Mrs. Miller, whom we left relating to her husband the supposed neglect of Dr. Lacey.  She finished her narrative by saying, “I cannot help thinking that by some means, Julia is at the foundation of all this mischief.  You and Dr. Lacey were good friends; suppose you write to him, and then we shall at least know the truth of the matter.”

“Yes, I will,” said Mr. Miller; “tomorrow.”

“But why not write tonight?” asked Kate, who was in a hurry.

“Because,” answered Mr. Miller, “I shall be engaged tonight and tomorrow will do as well.”