tely." Then came the thought that she had promised
not to betray Fanny's confidence; but she did not despair of gaining her
consent, that Mr. Miller should also know the secret.

For a time Fanny slept on sweetly and quietly; then she moved uneasily in
her slumber, and finally awoke.

"How is your head now?" asked Mrs. Miller, at the same time smoothing the
disordered ringlets which lay in such profusion over her lap.

"Oh, much better," said Fanny. "I had a nice sleep, and so pleasant
dreams, too."

"Did you dream of him?" asked Mrs. Miller, in a low tone.

Quick as thought the crimson tide stained Fanny's cheek and forehead, but
she answered, somewhat bitterly, "Oh, no, no! I never dream of him now,
and I am trying hard to forget him. I do not think I love him half as well
now as I once thought I did."

Poor little Fanny! How deceived she was! After a time Mrs. Miller said,
"Fanny, Mr. Miller seems very anxious about your altered and languid
appearance. May I not tell him the truth? He will sympathize with you as
truly as I do; for he feels for you almost the affection of a brother."

At first Fanny objected. "I know," said she, "that Mr. Miller would only
think me a weak, silly girl." Mrs. Miller, however, finally gained
permission to tell everything to her husband. "I know, though," persisted
Fanny, "that he will laugh at me. You say he likes me; I know he did once;
but since the time when he visited my father's, more than a year ago, he
has not treated me with the same confidence he did before. I never knew
the reason, unless it was that foolish, romping mistake which I made one
afternoon by riding into the schoolhouse!"

With many tears and some laughing--for the remembrance of the exploit
always excited her mirth--Fanny told a part of what we already know
concerning Mr. Miller's visit at her father's the winter previous. She
related the adventure of the sled ride, and said that the morning after
she noticed a change in Mr. Miller's manner toward her. The unsuspecting
girl little thought what was the true reason of that change.

While she was yet speaking, Mr. Miller entered the room. On seeing Fanny
there, and weeping, he said: "What, Sunshine in tears? That is hardly the
remedy I would prescribe for headache. But come, Fanny, tell me what is
the matter."

"Oh, I cannot, I cannot!" said Fanny, and again she buried her face in
Kate's lap.

Mr. Miller looked inquiringly at his wife, who had not yet ceas