"My once dear and still much admired Fanny: I hardly know how to write what I wish to tell you. If I knew exactly your opinion concerning me, I might feel differently. As it is I ardently hope that your extreme youth prevented my foolish, but then sincere, attentions from making any very lasting impression on you. But why not come to the point at once. Fanny, you must try and forget that you ever knew one so wholly unworthy of you as I am. It gives me great pain to write it, but I am about to engage myself to another.
"Do not condemn me unheard. There is a young lady in this city, who is beautiful, wealthy and accomplished. Between her father's family and mine there has long existed an intimacy which our fathers seem anxious to strengthen by [pg 096] a union between myself and the young lady I have mentioned. For a time I resisted manfully. For, ever between me and the tempting bait came the image of a pale, bright-haired girl, whose blue eyes looked mournfully into mine and whispered, 'Do not leave me.' But at last I yielded, and now, Fanny, will you forgive me? It cost me more anguish to give you up than I hope you will ever feel. Be happy, Fanny, and some time when I am traveling through Kentucky, let me find you the cheerful, contented wife of some one more suitable for you than I am. With kind wishes for your happiness, I remain,
"Your true friend,
"George Lacey."
"P.S.—It is just possible that the young lady and myself may not become engaged, but if we do not, after what has passed, it will be best for you and me to try to forget each other. Give my compliments to your sister Julia. By the way, do you know that I always admired her very much? What a sensation she would make in the fashionable world of New Orleans. But pshaw! What nonsense I'm writing."
Alas for Fanny! She did not need to read the letter twice, for every syllable had burned into her soul, and she could have repeated each word of the cruel message. This, then, was the end of her bright dream of bliss! She did not weep, for she could not. The fountain of her tears seemed dried up. A heavy weight had suddenly fallen on all her faculties. The objects in the room chased each other in rapid circles, while Dr. Lacey stood in the distance mocking her anguish. A faint feeling gathered round her heart. She uttered a low cry and fell heavily forward.
When Julia entered the room she found her sister extended on the floor, cold and white as a piece of marble, while the blood was gushing from her nostrils and moistening the curls of her long hair. Julia's first feeling was one of intense horror, or fear her sister might be dead, but a touch assured her that Fanny had only fainted. So she lifted her up, and bearing her to the window applied the usual restoratives. As Julia looked on the death-like face of her young sister she murmured, "Had I thought she loved him so well, never would I have done so wickedly."
But she made no promise to repair the mischief, and stifled all the better impulses of her nature by saying, "It is too late now: it is too late."
[pg 097]At last Fanny opened her eyes. Her first thought was for her letter, which was still tightly clenched in her hand. Passing it to Julia she said, faintly, "Read it, sister."
Julia took it, and pretending to read it, burst into a violent passion, abusing Dr. Lacey for his meanness, and ending by telling Fanny that she ought to consider herself fortunate in escaping from such a man. Fanny seemed disturbed to hear evil spoken of Dr. Lacey, so Julia changed her manner, and said, "I do not wonder you feel badly, Fanny. You and I can sympathize together now."