During her illness she thought much of what Julia had said relative to concealing her disappointment with an assumed gayety, and she resolved to do so, partly from wounded pride, and partly from love of her dear old father, who seemed distressed whenever anything troubled his “Sunshine.”  When she returned to Frankfort none but the most acute observer would have suspected that the sparkling eye and dancing footstep were the disguise of a desolate, aching heart and that the merry laugh and witty repartee were but the echoes of a knell of sadness, whose deepest tones were stifled ere they reached the ear of the listener.  In the darkness of night however, all was changed.  The Sunshine was obscured, and Julia alone knew what anguish Fanny endured.  Still the cruel girl never wavered in her purpose.  “The worst is over,” said she.  “She will not die now, even if she saw him wedded to me.”  So she suffered her sister’s cheek to grow paler, and her delicate form thinner, at the supposed desertion of her lover.  Little did Fanny think that he, whose false-heartedness she deplored, dreamed each night of his distant dear one, and that each day his warm heart beat more quickly, because no tidings came from her.

A few days after Fanny’s return there came cards of invitation for a large party at the residence of a Mr. C——.  The evening was propitious, and at the usual hour Mrs. C——­’s parlors were filled with the beauty and fashion of the city.  Among all the belles who that evening graced the brilliantly lighted drawing rooms, none was so much admired as Julia Middleton, who appeared dressed in a rich crimson velvet robe, tastefully trimmed with ermine.  Magnificent bracelets, which had cost her father almost as many oaths as dollars, glittered on her white, rounded arms.  Her snowy neck, which was also uncovered, was without ornament.  Her glossy hair, dark as night, was arranged in the most becoming manner.

At the time Mr. Middleton had given Julia her bracelets, he had presented Fanny with a bandeau of pearls.  But Julia found it an easy task to persuade her sister that pearls were not becoming to her style of beauty; so on the evening of the party they gleamed amid the heavy braids of Julia’s hair.  Wherever she went she was followed by a train of admirers, who had little thought that that soft smile and beautiful face concealed a heart as hard as the flinty rock.

Contrary to all the rules of propriety, the heartless Mrs. Carrington was there, dealing out her fascinating smiles and bland words.  She had thrown aside her mourning for the occasion and was arrayed in a dress of black velvet.  An elegant lace bertha covered her white, beautiful neck, while one of her fair arms was clasped by a diamond bracelet.  To this bracelet was attached a small locket which contained the daguerreotype of him, upon whose quiet grave the suns of scarce five months had risen and set.  Amid that brilliant scene she had no thought for the dead, but others wondered much that he should be so soon forgotten.  She was attended by Raymond, who scarcely left her side during the whole evening, although she made several ineffectual attempts to shake him off, for she did not care to be too much noticed by a “poor Yankee schoolmaster.”