One after another those who had been with Fanny during her illness departed to their homes.  Frank Cameron lingered several weeks in Frankfort.  Florence, too, was there with some relatives.  Now, reader, if you value our friendship, you will not accuse him of being fickle.  He had loved Fanny long and faithfully, but he knew the time was coming when he would see her the wife of another.  What wonder was it, then, if he suffered his eye occasionally to rest admiringly upon Florence Woodburn’s happy face, or that he frequently found himself trying to trace some resemblance between the dark hazel of Florence’s eyes and the deep blue of Fanny’s?

With woman’s quick perception, Florence divined Frank’s thoughts, and although she professed herself to be “terribly afraid of his Presbyterian smile and deaconish ways,” she took good care not to discourage him.  But she teased him unmercifully, and played him many sorry tricks.  He bore it all good-humoredly, and when he started for New York he had with him a tiny casing, from which peeped the merry face of Florence, looking as if just meditating some fresh mischief.

And what of Florence?  Why, safely stowed away at the bottom of her bureau drawer, under a promiscuous pile of gloves, ribbons, laces and handkerchiefs, was a big daguerreotype; but as Florence guarded that drawer most carefully, always keeping the key in her pocket, we are unable to say anything certain upon the subject.  Up to this day we don’t know exactly whose face it was that led Florence to the drawer so many times a day, but we are safe in saying that it looked frank enough to be Frank himself!

Here for a time we leave her, and return to Mr. Middleton’s where Fanny was improving each day.  Dr. Lacey watched her recovery anxiously, fearing continually lest some new calamity should happen to take his treasure from him.  Owing to the protracted illness of his father, it became necessary that he should go back to New Orleans; but as soon as possible he would return, and then—­Fanny could have told you what then, and so, too, could we, but we prefer keeping you in suspense.

CHAPTER XXIV

Thewedding

The autumn months were gone; December had come and “Christmas was coming.”  The negroes far and near had counted the days which must pass before their expected holidays.  In Uncle Joshua’s kitchen there was much talking and laughing, fixing and fussing, and some crying.  Had you asked the cause of the crying, you would have been told that Miss Fanny was to be married Christmas Eve, and the week following she would leave them and start for New Orleans.

Preparations commenced on a large scale; for Uncle Joshua, a little proud, it may be, of his handsome house, had determined on a large party.  The old gentleman even went so far as to order for himself a new suit of broadcloth, saying by way of apology that, “though the jeens coat and bagging pants did well enough for Josh, they wouldn’t answer nohow for the father of Mrs. Dr. George Lacey.”