Four weeks went by, and the waters of the Kentucky frowned angrily "in the
gray December light," making Uncle Joshua shudder whenever he chanced to
pass by, and thought perhaps his daughter lay sleeping in their cold
embrace. A gloomy drizzly day was settling into a dark rainy night, when
two young men, who, either for business or pleasure, had rowed across the
river some miles from Woodford Landing, started to return home. They had
stepped into their boat and were about pushing off when among some
driftwood which lay not far from the shore, they thought they descried a
female's garment floating on the water. The spot was soon reached, and to
their horror they discovered the body of a young girl, which, from its
appearance, must have been in the water some time. They had heard the
story of Julia, and readily concluded that the bloated, disfigured form
before them must have been she. Taking her to the nearest dwelling, they
dispatched a messenger for Mr. Middleton, who, now that his worst fears
were confirmed, seemed paralyzed with the shock.
"Oh, I cannot go!" said he, "I cannot. Is there no one to do it for me?"
Dr. Lacey, who chanced to be present, said, "For your sake, sir, and for
Fanny's, I will go."
"God bless you, George!" answered Mr. Middleton, and in a few moments Dr.
Lacey departed.
With a thrill of horror he looked upon the swollen, discolored face, round
which the long black hair clung, matted and slimy from being so long
saturated with water, and thought that this was once the beautiful Julia,
though now so fearfully changed that no one could possibly have recognized
her. Owing to the state which the body was in, Dr. Lacey thought proper to
produce a coffin before removing her home; consequently it was nearly ten
o'clock the following morning ere the little procession slowly entered the
yard, from which, with wonderful forethought, Mr. Middleton had ordered to
be removed some half dozen carts, corn cribs, etc. Fanny was pressing
forward to look at her unfortunate sister, when Dr. Lacey, gently but
firmly, led her away, saying, "No, Fanny, you must not see her. The sight
would haunt you for months and years." Then, as her tears fell fast, he
strove in various way to divert her mind from Julia's untimely end.
About noon a middle-aged man came to the house and asked permission to see
the body. His request was granted, but he almost immediately turned away
from the coffin, saying, by way of explanation, "I am the father of the
maniac girl who some time since escaped from Lexington, and I thought
perhaps this might be my daughter; but it is not, and even if it were I
could not recognize her."