Overcome with fatigue and excitement, Julia immediately after her father
left her on the preceding night, had fallen into a deep sleep, which was
unbroken till long after dawn. Then she was aroused by her father calling
up the negroes. Hastily starting up, she looked around her and, for a
moment, strove to remember what had happened. Soon she remembered all, and
burying her face in the pillows, she sobbed out: "Father, I thank Thee;
the prodigal is at last at home."
Hastily arising she proceeded with her toilet, which was nearly completed
when Fanny tapped gently at the door, and immediately entered the room,
saying, "Good morning, dear Julia. I am so glad you really are here and
that it is not a dream. But come, breakfast is waiting and so is father,
and so is--so is--George."
"Oh, I can't see him, I can't," said Julia, and Fanny answered, "Oh, never
mind him. I have told him all about it, and he is ready to receive you as
a sister."
So saying, she led the reluctant girl down the long staircase, through the
wide hall to the door of the breakfast room, where Mr. Middleton stood
waiting for them. His tones and manner were very affectionate as he kissed
the wanderer, and said, "I am so glad you're here."
Julia could have wept, but she would not. There was yet another to meet,
and choking down her tears she nerved herself for the trial. Of what
occurred next she knew nothing until her cold white hand was clasped by
another so warm, so life-giving in its touch that she raised her eyes and
met the calm, quiet gaze of Dr. Lacey. Neither of them spoke until Julia,
averting her eyes, said, "Am I forgiven?"
"You are," was the answer, and then Uncle Joshua exclaimed, "thar, that'll
do. Now come to your breakfast, children, for I'm mighty hungry, and
shan't wait another minute."
After breakfast Julia was greatly surprised at seeing her father take from
the bookcase the old family Bible, on whose dark dusty covers she
remembered having many a time written her name. All was now explained. Her
father's gentleness of look and manner were accounted for; and as for the
first time in her life she knelt by his side and heard him as he prayed,
her heart swelled with emotion, and she longed to tell him, though she
dared not hope she was a Christian, she was still trying to lead a
different, a better life.
That afternoon in her chamber were seated Mr. Middleton and Fanny, while
Julia recounted the story of her wanderings. "The idea of leaving my
home," said she, "was not a sudden impulse, else had I returned sooner,
but it was the result of long, bitter reflection. In the first days of my
humiliation I wished that I might die, for though the thought of death and
the dread hereafter made me tremble, it was preferable to the scorn and
contempt I should necessarily meet if I survived. Then came a reaction,
and when our angel mother glided so noiselessly around my sick room; when
you, darling Fanny, nursed me with so much care, and even father's voice
grew low and kind as he addressed me, my better nature, if I had any, was
touched, and I thought I would like to live for the sake of retrieving the
past. But the evil spirit which has haunted me from infancy whispered that
as soon as I was well all would be changed. You, Fanny, would hate me, and
father would treat me as he always had, only worse."