Rondeau Digs Up the Missing Letter

When first she arrived Dr. Lacey felt exceedingly uncomfortable, for her
presence constantly reminded him of the past, and his reminiscences of
Julia were not particularly pleasant. Gradually this feeling wore away,
for she appeared greatly changed. There was a softness, a gentleness, in
her manner, which seemed to Dr. Lacey like Fanny, and then her voice, too,
was so like her sister's that ere long she ceased to be disagreeable to
him, and instead of avoiding her society, as at first he had done, he now
sought it.

Julia saw her advantage, and determined to follow it up. Nothing could
exceed her extreme amiability, and apparent sweetness of disposition. Even
Mrs. Lacey was partially deceived, and concluded she had been too hasty in
her estimation of Miss Middleton. Still she watched her son's movements
narrowly, and hoped he had no intentions of making Julia his wife.

She was in New Orleans three weeks before her uncle's house was in
readiness; but at the end of that time she, together with Dr. Lacey, Mabel
Mortimer and Florence Woodburn were about to exchange the heat and dust of
the city for a cooler residence near the lake. The day before they left
was hot and sultry, and in the morning Julia sought the shade of a large
vine-wreathed summer house, which stood in the garden, near by the tree
under which Rondeau had buried his master's letter.

One word now about our old friend Rondeau. The buried letter had cost him
a world of trouble. He was constantly fearful lest he should be detected.
Particularly was he afraid that the author of the letter, failing to
receive an answer, would write again, and thus he might be exposed. Twice
had he dug up the epistle upon occasions when he fancied some one of his
master's letters bore a similar superscription. In this way he had become
tolerably familiar with Mr. Miller's handwriting, which was rather
peculiar, being a large, heavy, black hand.