Such was Frank Cameron.  Business for his father had taken him to Louisville, and he determined to visit his cousin Kate ere he returned home.  He took passage in the Blue Wing, on board of which was Mr. Middleton, who soon made his acquaintance.  As they were bound for the same place, they kept together, and on reaching Frankfort, went immediately to Mrs. Crane’s, where they were entertained by Mrs. Carrington, who wondered much who the distinguished looking strangers could be.  Concluding that the older one must of course be married, she turned her attention to Frank, who was much amused at her airs and coquettish manners.  He had inquired for Mrs. Miller, and at length Mrs. Carrington asked if she were an acquaintance of his.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Frank with great gravity, “she is my wife’s cousin.”

In an instant Mrs. Carrington’s coquetry vanished, and rising upon her dignity, she soon gave the gentlemen directions where to find the May party.  As they were proceeding thither, Mr. Middleton said, “Why, Cameron, I understood you to say on the boat that you were not married.”

“Neither am I,” answered Frank.  “I merely wished to get a dissolving view of that lady’s maneuvers.  Besides, I was actually afraid of being annihilated by her eyes and smiles.  I’ll manage to let her know that you are marketable, and then she’ll turn her artillery toward you.”

“But was it quite right,” said Mr. Middleton, “to give her a wrong impression?”

“No, I suppose not,” answered Frank.  “But if I ever marry, Kate will be my wife’s cousin.”

By this time they had reached the entrance of the grove and caught sight of the fair queen.  “The fates protect me!” said Frank, suddenly stopping and planting himself against a tree.  “It would be suicide to advance another step.  And she is your niece, you say.  Pray intercede for me, or in less than a month I shall be making faces through the iron grating of some madhouse.”

Mr. Middleton did not reply.  His eyes were riveted on Fanny, whose face and figure recalled to his remembrance his only sister, who was the playmate of his childish years.  Many long years had rolled away since that bright summer morning, when with a sad heart he bade adieu to that sister, who, a young happy bride, was leaving her native land for a home on a foreign shore.  Weeks passed, and there came intelligence that the ill-fated vessel in which she embarked was a total wreck.  Among the lost were his sister and her husband, who now slept quietly beneath the billowy surf of the Atlantic.

Fanny so strongly resembled her Aunt that it was not strange Mr. Middleton for an instant fancied he again looked on the features of his long-lost sister.  But the illusion soon vanished, and when Kate bounded forward and saluted her cousin, his eye was wandering over the group of young girls in quest of his other niece.  He, however, looked in vain.  Julia was not there.  When urged to attend the party, she had tossed her head in scorn saying that she unfortunately had no taste for child’s play.  She preferred remaining at home, where she could spend her time more profitably.  Oh, Julia, Julia!  It is a pity you did not assign your true reason for absenting yourself from the party.  Of this reason we will speak hereafter.  We are not quite through with the May party.