d, but charged her daughter to be sure
and call her if she wished for her during the night.

Over Julia's face a meaning smile flitted as she answered, "I hope to
trouble no one much longer," but it was unnoticed by Mrs. Middleton, and
Julia was left alone. Early next morning Luce went as usual to make a fire
for her young mistress, after which she softly drew back the bed curtains
to see if Julia slept. She was surprised to find no Julia there, neither
were there signs of her having been there during the night. With a loud
cry Luce summoned to the room both Mr. and Mrs. Middleton, the former of
whom on seeing how matters stood, exclaimed, "So ho! Up to her tricks
again. I thought she couldn't hold good long."

"'The de'il when sick, a saint would be,
But when he got well, the de'il a saint was he.'"

"Don't, husband," said Mrs. Middleton; "perhaps she will never come back
alive, and then you will be sorry."

Uncle Joshua readily guessed his wife's meaning, and turning to Luce,
said, "Rout out the whole gang and set 'em to huntin'."

In less than two hours scores of men on horseback were seen hunting in all
directions, looking, as Bob expressed it, "for all the world like they was
huntin' a runaway."

Ere long the news reached Frankfort, causing Mrs. Carrington to sneeringly
advise Dr. Lacey "by all means to join in the hunt." He deigned her no
reply, but mounting his horse took the road to Mr. Middleton's, where he
was welcomed with tears by Mrs. Middleton and Fanny, whose fears he strove
to allay.

Meanwhile the search went on, headed by Uncle Joshua, who, late in the
afternoon, unconsciously led a part of the company to the banks of the
river, not far from a point called Woodford Landing. Dismounting, he
strolled along the shore for several rods, when suddenly a loud cry turned
toward him the attention of the party. Near the water's edge he had
discovered a shawl, which he knew belonged to Julia, and near by lay a
pair of slippers, on the inside of which her name was marked. Instantly
the conviction flashed upon all--Julia was drowned!

Upon a large flat rock Uncle Joshua sat down, while his long gray locks
were tossed by the November wind which swept mournfully by, bearing on its
wing the bitter tones with which the stricken father bewailed his loss.
"Everything goes ag'in me," said he, "everything--she's dead and, worse
than all, died by her own hand." Then, as if void of reason, he aros