The servants, too, as if adopting the opinion of their mistress, felt and expressed among themselves an aversion to the “evil-eyed lady,” as they termed Julia.  Aunt Dilsey, in particular, soon had her own reason for disliking her.  The second day after Julia’s arrival, as she was strolling through the yard, she encountered Jackson, a bright little fellow, three years of age, and Aunt Dilsey’s only son.  Jack, as he was usually called, was amusing himself by seeing how far he could spit!  Unfortunately he spit too far, and hit Miss Julia’s pink muslin.  In an instant her white, slender fingers were buried in his wool.  His screams soon brought Aunt Dilsey to the rescue.  Upon learning the dreadful crime of which Jack had been guilty, she snatched him from Julia’s grasp, and hurried him into the house without a word.  From that time Dilsey was Julia’s sworn enemy, and Jack was taught to make up faces at her, whenever he could do so without being discovered.

The servants, however, were too well trained to manifest any open disrespect, for they knew she was “marster’s guest,” and as such was entitled to every possible attention.

When first she arrived Dr. Lacey felt exceedingly uncomfortable, for her presence constantly reminded him of the past, and his reminiscences of Julia were not particularly pleasant.  Gradually this feeling wore away, for she appeared greatly changed.  There was a softness, a gentleness, in her manner, which seemed to Dr. Lacey like Fanny, and then her voice, too, was so like her sister’s that ere long she ceased to be disagreeable to him, and instead of avoiding her society, as at first he had done, he now sought it.

Julia saw her advantage, and determined to follow it up.  Nothing could exceed her extreme amiability, and apparent sweetness of disposition.  Even Mrs. Lacey was partially deceived, and concluded she had been too hasty in her estimation of Miss Middleton.  Still she watched her son’s movements narrowly, and hoped he had no intentions of making Julia his wife.

She was in New Orleans three weeks before her uncle’s house was in readiness; but at the end of that time she, together with Dr. Lacey, Mabel Mortimer and Florence Woodburn were about to exchange the heat and dust of the city for a cooler residence near the lake.  The day before they left was hot and sultry, and in the morning Julia sought the shade of a large vine-wreathed summer house, which stood in the garden, near by the tree under which Rondeau had buried his master’s letter.

One word now about our old friend Rondeau.  The buried letter had cost him a world of trouble.  He was constantly fearful lest he should be detected.  Particularly was he afraid that the author of the letter, failing to receive an answer, would write again, and thus he might be exposed.  Twice had he dug up the epistle upon occasions when he fancied some one of his master’s letters bore a similar superscription.  In this way he had become tolerably familiar with Mr. Miller’s handwriting, which was rather peculiar, being a large, heavy, black hand.