Julia listened to the tempter, her hand was withdrawn, and Fanny looked in vain for her letter. A faint sickness stole over her for a moment but she thought, "Perhaps Julia means to tease me. I will appear very unconcerned and not ask for it." So when Julia entered the room, she found that her sister’s attention was suddenly, distracted by something in the street; but Fanny was not accustomed to dissemble and the rosy flush on her cheek showed how anxious she was. At last Julia said, "Why do you not ask for your letter, Fanny?" Oh, how eager was the expression of the sweet, pale face which was instantly turned toward the speaker. Springing up she exclaimed, "Oh, Julia, you have got me one, haven’t you? Please give it to me." "I will tomorrow when it arrives," said Julia. "It has probably been delayed." Fanny’s countenance fell and she said, "Then you haven’t got me a letter? Oh, I’m so sorry!" "Never mind, sister," said Julia. "It will come tomorrow, and will seem all the better for waiting." Tomorrow came, but with it came no letter, and days wore on, until at last it was Saturday night. Alone in her room poor Fanny was weeping bitterly. Was Dr. Lacey sick or dead? This was the question which she continually asked herself. A suspicion of his unfaithfulness had not yet entered her mind. While she was yet weeping an arm was thrown affectionately round her, and a voice whispered in the sweetest possible tones, "Dear sister, do not weep so. If he were dead, some one would inform you. And now I think of it, why do you not write to him? There would be no harm in doing so. Come, sit down, and write him a few lines before dark, and I will take them to the office." So Fanny sat down to her writing desk, and the few lines proved to be a long letter ere she had finished. It was a most touchingly sad letter, and ought to have drawn tears from Julia, instead of forcing the malicious smile which played around her mouth while reading her sister’s effusion. It is needless to say that, although Julia went to the post office, this letter never did but was placed in a little box by the side of two others, which had arrived from Dr. Lacey that week. After Julia returned from her walk that evening she said, "Fanny, if I were you I would not tell any one that I did not hear from Dr. Lacey, for you know it’s just possible that he may not be sick, and in that case your best way would be to seem quite as forgetful of him." "Forgetful!" said Fanny. "Why, Julia, what do you mean? You cannot—Oh, no, I know you do not think Dr. Lacey untrue to me?" And Fanny’s large blue eyes were fixed on her sister with as much earnestness as though her answer could decide her fate forever. "I do not like to think so, any more than you do," said Julia. "But Dr. Lacey is now in the gay city of New Orleans, surrounded by beauty and fashion, and were I his betrothed, I should not think it strange if he did not remain true to me."