“Not tonight, dear father,” answered Julia.  “Let me rest tonight and tomorrow I will tell you all.”

CHAPTER XXVI

Julia at home again

Overcome with fatigue and excitement, Julia immediately after her father left her on the preceding night, had fallen into a deep sleep, which was unbroken till long after dawn.  Then she was aroused by her father calling up the negroes.  Hastily starting up, she looked around her and, for a moment, strove to remember what had happened.  Soon she remembered all, and burying her face in the pillows, she sobbed out:  “Father, I thank Thee; the prodigal is at last at home.”

Hastily arising she proceeded with her toilet, which was nearly completed when Fanny tapped gently at the door, and immediately entered the room, saying, “Good morning, dear Julia.  I am so glad you really are here and that it is not a dream.  But come, breakfast is waiting and so is father, and so is—­so is—­George.”

“Oh, I can’t see him, I can’t,” said Julia, and Fanny answered, “Oh, never mind him.  I have told him all about it, and he is ready to receive you as a sister.”

So saying, she led the reluctant girl down the long staircase, through the wide hall to the door of the breakfast room, where Mr. Middleton stood waiting for them.  His tones and manner were very affectionate as he kissed the wanderer, and said, “I am so glad you’re here.”

Julia could have wept, but she would not.  There was yet another to meet, and choking down her tears she nerved herself for the trial.  Of what occurred next she knew nothing until her cold white hand was clasped by another so warm, so life-giving in its touch that she raised her eyes and met the calm, quiet gaze of Dr. Lacey.  Neither of them spoke until Julia, averting her eyes, said, “Am I forgiven?”

“You are,” was the answer, and then Uncle Joshua exclaimed, “thar, that’ll do.  Now come to your breakfast, children, for I’m mighty hungry, and shan’t wait another minute.”

After breakfast Julia was greatly surprised at seeing her father take from the bookcase the old family Bible, on whose dark dusty covers she remembered having many a time written her name.  All was now explained.  Her father’s gentleness of look and manner were accounted for; and as for the first time in her life she knelt by his side and heard him as he prayed, her heart swelled with emotion, and she longed to tell him, though she dared not hope she was a Christian, she was still trying to lead a different, a better life.

That afternoon in her chamber were seated Mr. Middleton and Fanny, while Julia recounted the story of her wanderings.  “The idea of leaving my home,” said she, “was not a sudden impulse, else had I returned sooner, but it was the result of long, bitter reflection.  In the first days of my humiliation I wished that I might die, for though the thought of death and the dread hereafter made me tremble, it