From this remark of Fanny's the reader will understand that she was well
aware of the part her sister was playing. And she was perfectly satisfied
that it should be so, for by this means she occasionally got a pleasant
word from Julia. She, however, often wished that Mr. Wilmot could be
constantly with her sister, for his presence in the house did not prevent
her from expending her wrath upon both Fanny and the blacks.
For some days after the affair of the preserves, Mr. Wilmot was somewhat
cool in his manner toward Julia, who had discernment enough to attribute
the change to the right cause. Earnestly did she desire to win back his
esteem, and she accordingly cast about for some method by which she could
undo what she had done. She could think of no way except to acknowledge
her error to Mr. Wilmot and promise to do better in the future. So one
evening when her father, mother and Fanny were absent, and she was alone
with him, she adroitly led the conversation to the circumstance of her
spoiled merino. She acknowledged that it was very unamiable and unladylike
to manifest such passionate feelings, said she knew she had a quick
temper, but she tried hard to govern it; and if Mr. Wilmot would, as her
teacher and friend, aid her by his advice and influence, she was sure she
would in time succeed. So nicely did she manage each part of her
confession that Mr. Wilmot was thoroughly deceived. He believed her
perfectly sincere, and greatly admired what he thought to be her frank,
confiding disposition.
From that time she was dearer to him than ever and Julia, again sure of
his esteem, placed a double guard upon her temper, and in his presence was
the very "pink" of amiability! Affairs were gliding smoothly on, when the
family received a visit from a gentleman, whom Julia would rather not have
seen. This was Mr. Miller, whom we have mentioned as having taught in that
neighborhood the winter before. Mr. Wilmot found him in the sitting room
one night, on his return from school. When the young men were introduced
they regarded each other a moment in silence, then their hands were
cordially extended, and the words, "Richard Wilmot," "Joseph Miller," were
simultaneously uttered.
It seems that, years before, they had been roommates and warmly attached
friends in the Academy of Canandaigua, New York, and now, after the lapse
of ten years, they met for the first time far off in Kentucky. A long
conversation followed, relative to what had occurred to each since the
bright June morning when they parted with so much regret in the old
academic halls of Canandaigua.