"I cannot say so and tell the truth," said Mr. Miller, "but I can assure you that Bill Jeffrey's sled had nothing to do with it."
"What was it then?" asked Kate and Fanny, both in the same breath.
Mr. Miller drew Fanny toward him with the freedom of an elder brother, and, in a low, earnest tone, said: "Did nothing else occur during my visit, which could have changed my opinion of you?"
Fanny lifted her large blue eyes to Mr. Miller's face with so truthful, wondering a gaze that he was puzzled. "Can it be," thought he, "that I did not hear aright, that I was deceived? I will, at least, ask her how she spent that evening," so he said: "Fanny, do you remember where you were, or how you were occupied during the last evening of my stay at your father's?"
At first Fanny seemed trying to recall the events of that night; then she said: "Oh, yes, I remember now perfectly well. You and Mr. Wilmot had letters to write, and went to your room early, while father and mother went to one of the neighbors, leaving Julia and me alone in the sitting room."
"Did you both remain in the sitting room during the evening?" continued Mr. Miller.
"Yes," said Fanny, "or, that is, I stayed there all the time; but Julia was gone a long time, and when she returned she would not tell me where she had been."
"But were not you and Luce in your room at all that evening?" continued Mr. Miller.
"Luce!" said Fanny; "I do not remember having seen her once that night; neither was I in my room until bedtime."
There was so much frankness and apparent truth in Fanny's face and manner that Mr. Miller never for a moment doubted her. His first feeling was one of intense happiness at finding that Fanny was, indeed, all he had once fancied her to be. Back through the channels of his heart rolled, for an instant, the full tide of his once secretly nurtured affection for her. It was for an instant, however; for one look at the beautiful Kate convinced him that the love he once bore the gentle, timid girl at his side was nought, when compared with the deep, ardent affection which he now felt for his own cherished wife. "Fanny," said he, "I have wronged you in [pg 126] thought, but never in word or deed, to my knowledge. I was, however, grossly deceived, although I can see no object for the deception."