Summer was gone and the bright, sunny days of autumn had come.
Again in Kate Wilmot's home were tears wept and blessings breathed, as Mr.
and Mrs. Wilmot bade farewell to their "children," as they affectionately
called all three of the individuals who were that morning to start for
their home in Kentucky.
"God bless you, Kate, my darling Kate," said Mrs. Wilmot as she fondly
kissed her only child. Then turning to Fanny, she said, "And you, too, my
other daughter, you have my love and earnest prayers for your happiness."
Mr. Wilmot could not speak, but his feelings were not less deep, as he
embraced his child and shook the hands of Mr. Miller and Fanny. Old
Hector, too, shared in the general sorrow, but for some undefinable reason
he seemed to cling more closely to Fanny. He would look up in her face and
howl, as if he knew she was leaving him forever. "Noble Hector!" said
Fanny, "and do you indeed love me so well?" Then kneeling down by him, she
drew from her neck a tiny locket, in which was a daguerreotype of herself.
To this she attached a blue ribbon, which she fastened around Hector's
neck, saying, "I cannot stay with you, Hector, but you shall have my
likeness." Afterward when strangers visited the house and marvelled at
Hector's unusual neck gear, they were shown the fair, sweet face, which
looked forth from the golden casing, and were told the story of the young
girl, whose presence had been like Sunshine in Richard Wilmot's darkened
home.
Mr. Miller was not willing that Fanny should leave New York without first
visiting Niagara Falls. Accordingly, they stopped at the Falls, and were
there joined by Mr. and Mrs. Stanton and Frank, the latter of whom was
desirous of seeing Fanny as long as possible. He accompanied them to
Buffalo, and stayed upon the boat which was to bear them away until the
last bell rang out its warning. As he was leaving them Kate playfully
asked if they were taking anything of his with them. "Yes, everything,
everything," he answered.
Soon the steamer was moving proudly over the blue waters of Lake Erie. On
the upper deck our Kentucky friends were waving their handkerchiefs to
Frank, who stood upon the wharf as long as one bright-haired girl could be
distinguished by the light of the harvest moon, whose rays fell calmly
upon the placid waters.
In a few days Mr. Middleton again folded to his bosom his Sunshine, now
more precious than ever, because, as he said, "He'd lain awake a heap o'
nights, worryin' about her. The dogs had howled, the death watches had
ticked on the wall, and everything had carried on, t'other side up, ever
since she'd been gone. But look, Nancy," he continued to his wife, "she's
fattin' up right smart. Her journey has done her a heap of good, and I'm
glad I let her go."