"Oh, much better," said Fanny. "I had a nice sleep, and so pleasant dreams, too."
"Did you dream of him?" asked Mrs. Miller, in a low tone.
Quick as thought the crimson tide stained Fanny's cheek and forehead, but she answered, somewhat bitterly, "Oh, no, no! I never dream of him now, and I am trying hard to forget him. I do not think I love him half as well now as I once thought I did."
Poor little Fanny! How deceived she was! After a time Mrs. Miller said, "Fanny, Mr. Miller seems very anxious about your altered and languid appearance. May I not tell him the truth? He will sympathize with you as truly as I do; for he feels for you almost the affection of a brother."
At first Fanny objected. "I know," said she, "that Mr. Miller would only think me a weak, silly girl." Mrs. Miller, however, finally gained permission to tell everything to her husband. "I know, though," persisted Fanny, "that he will laugh at me. You say he likes me; I know he did once; but since the time when he visited my father's, more than a year ago, he has not treated me with the same confidence he did before. I never knew the reason, unless it was that foolish, romping mistake which I made one afternoon by riding into the schoolhouse!"
With many tears and some laughing—for the remembrance of the exploit always excited her mirth—Fanny told a part of what we already know concerning Mr. Miller's visit at her father's the winter previous. She related the adventure of the sled ride, and said that the morning after she noticed a change in Mr. Miller's manner toward her. The unsuspecting girl little thought what was the true reason of that change.
While she was yet speaking, Mr. Miller entered the room. On seeing Fanny there, and weeping, he said: "What, Sunshine in tears? That is hardly the remedy I would prescribe for headache. But come, Fanny, tell me what is the matter."
"Oh, I cannot, I cannot!" said Fanny, and again she buried her face in Kate's lap.
Mr. Miller looked inquiringly at his wife, who had not yet ceased laughing at Fanny's ludicrous description of her sled ride; but overcoming her merriment, she at length found voice to say, "Fanny is crying because she thinks you do not like her as well as you used to."
Kate had never dreamed that her husband had once felt [pg 125] more than a brother's love for the weeping girl before her, and she did not know what pain her words inflicted on his noble heart. Neither did she think there was the least ground for Fanny's supposition, and she desired her husband to say so.