"Willin'ly, most willin'ly," said Uncle Joshua, as he folded her to his
bosom, "and if I had done as I or'to, a heap of this wouldn't have
happened. Oh, I didn't or'to do so, I didn't; and I ain't goin' to any
more. You shall live with me when Sunshine's gone; and we would be so
happy, if your poor mother could only see us and know it all."
From that time nothing could exceed Uncle Joshua's kindness to his
daughter. He seemed indeed trying to make up for the past, and frequently
he would whisper to himself, "No, I didn't or'to do so. I see more and
more that I didn't." Still his fondness for Fanny was undiminished, and
occasionally, after looking earnestly at both his children, he would
exclaim, "Hang me, if I don't b'lieve Sunshine is a heap the handsomest";
but if these words caused Julia any emotion, 'twas never betrayed.
From Julia's story there could be no doubt that the maniac girl was laid
in the grave which Uncle Joshua had thought belonged to his daughter. No
tidings of her had been heard, although one gentleman thought that he once
had met with a girl answering to her description in the stage coach
between Lexington and Cincinnati. All search in that quarter was
unavailing, and over her fate a dark mystery lay, until Julia suddenly
appeared and threw light on the matter. The afflicted father (for she had
no mother) was sent for, and when told where his child was laid, asked
permission to have her disinterred and taken to his family burial place.
His request was granted, the grave was opened, and then refilled and
leveled with the earth. The monument Julia took care to have carefully
preserved as a memento of the olden time.
As will be supposed, Julia's return furnished the neighborhood and
surrounding country with a topic of conversation for many weeks. At first
nearly all treated her with cool neglect, but as she kept entirely at
home, curiosity to see one who had, as it were, come back from the dead
triumphed over all other things; and at last all who came to see Fanny
asked also for her sister.
Among the few who at once hastened to give the penitent girl the hand of
friendship was Kate Miller; and as she marked her gentle manner and the
subdued glance of her still somewhat haughty eyes, she wound her arm about
her neck and whispered, "I shall in time learn to love you dearly for the
sake of more than one."