But we will not continue this conversation. Suffice it to say that when
Julia retired that night, her own money was safe in her purse, and by the
side of it lay the hundred dollars she had coaxed from Fanny. As they were
preparing to return home on Saturday, Julia said to her sister, "Fan,
don't let father know that you gave me a hundred dollars, for I fear all
your powers of persuasion would be of no avail to stay the storm he would
consider it his bounden duty to raise."
There was no need of this caution, for Fanny was not one to do a generous
act, and then boast of it, neither did her father ask her how she had
disposed of her money. He was satisfied to know that the "four silk gowns"
were purchased, as, in his estimation they constituted the essential part
of a young lady's wardrobe.
Since Fanny had disclosed the heartless desertion of Dr. Lacey, she seemed
to be doubly dear to her father; for pity now mingled with the intense
love he always had for his youngest and best-loved daughter. Often during
the last three days she passed at home prior to her departure for New
York, he would sit and gaze fondly upon her until the tears would blind
his vision, then springing up, he would pace the floor, impetuously
muttering, "The scamp--the vagabond--but he'll get his pay fast enough--and
I'd pay him, too, if I hadn't promised not to. But 'tain't worth a while,
for I reckon 'twould only make her face grow whiter and thinner if I did
anything."