From Julia’s story there could be no doubt that the maniac girl was laid in the grave which Uncle Joshua had thought belonged to his daughter.  No tidings of her had been heard, although one gentleman thought that he once had met with a girl answering to her description in the stage coach between Lexington and Cincinnati.  All search in that quarter was unavailing, and over her fate a dark mystery lay, until Julia suddenly appeared and threw light on the matter.  The afflicted father (for she had no mother) was sent for, and when told where his child was laid, asked permission to have her disinterred and taken to his family burial place.  His request was granted, the grave was opened, and then refilled and leveled with the earth.  The monument Julia took care to have carefully preserved as a memento of the olden time.

As will be supposed, Julia’s return furnished the neighborhood and surrounding country with a topic of conversation for many weeks.  At first nearly all treated her with cool neglect, but as she kept entirely at home, curiosity to see one who had, as it were, come back from the dead triumphed over all other things; and at last all who came to see Fanny asked also for her sister.

Among the few who at once hastened to give the penitent girl the hand of friendship was Kate Miller; and as she marked her gentle manner and the subdued glance of her still somewhat haughty eyes, she wound her arm about her neck and whispered, “I shall in time learn to love you dearly for the sake of more than one.”

Julia comprehended her, or thought she did, and answered, “Oh, Mrs. Miller, that one dreadful crime has troubled me more than all the rest.  I killed him, your noble brother, and from the moment I deliberately determined to do so I became leagued with the tempter, who lured me madly on.  But I outdid myself, and was entangled in the snare my own hands had laid.”

“It is ever so,” answered Kate.  “Our most secret sins will in the end find us out.”

The reader is perhaps anxious to know whether back across the Atlantic, Ashton brought his Spanish bride.  Yes, he did.  Mr. William Middleton accompanied him to the house of Sir Arthur Effingham, whom they found to be dying; his property was gone, and he feared that he must leave the youthful Inez to the cold charities of the world and a miserly brother.  When Mr. Middleton made himself known, the dying man pointed to Inez, and said, “You once loved the mother; care for the daughter when I am gone, will you?”

“I will,” answered Mr. Middleton, “on condition that you consent to having a young friend of mine share the care with me.”  At the same time he presented Ashton.

Sir Arthur recognized him immediately and answered, “Willingly, most willingly.  I was a fool to spurn you once as I did.”