Part 13 (1/2)
f.a.n.n.y knew how far she was from being an angel, and she had no heart for deceiving the poor woman. It might be fun and excitement to deceive the people at Woodville, but Mrs. Kent seemed to be sanctified by her sorrows.
”I hope you haven't robbed yourself by your good deed, miss,” added the poor woman, wondering why f.a.n.n.y did not speak.
”O, no! I have some more money.”
Perhaps Mrs. Kent thought it singular that a young girl, like f.a.n.n.y, should happen to have so much money about her, but she did not ask any questions; and perhaps she did not think that one who had been so kind to her could do anything wrong.
”Now, you will come into the house and see poor Jenny. She will want to thank you for what you have done,” said Mrs. Kent, leading the way to the door.
f.a.n.n.y could not refuse this reasonable request, but she felt very strangely. She found herself commended and reverenced for what she had done, and she could not help feeling how unworthy she was. Conscious that she had performed a really good deed, she could not reconcile it with her past conduct. It was utterly inconsistent with the base act she had done in the morning; and in the light of one deed the other seemed so monstrous that she almost loathed herself.
She followed Mrs. Kent into the room where the sick girl was reclining upon the bed. There was no carpet on the floor, and the apartment was very meagerly furnished with the rudest and coa.r.s.est articles. Jenny was pale and emaciated; the hand of death seemed to be already upon her; but in spite of her paleness and her emaciation, there was something beautiful in her face; something in the expression of her languid eyes which riveted the attention and challenged the interest of the visitor.
”Jenny, this is the young lady whom G.o.d has sent to be our friend,”
said Mrs. Kent, as they approached the bedside.
f.a.n.n.y shuddered. ”Whom G.o.d had sent”--she, a thief! She wanted to cry; she wanted to shrink back into herself.
”May I take your hand?” asked Jenny, in feeble tones.
f.a.n.n.y complied with the request in silence, and with her eyes fixed on the floor. The sick girl took the offered hand in her own, which was almost as cold as marble.
”Mother has prayed to Our Good Father, and I have prayed to Him all the time for help,” said Jenny, whose accents were hardly above a whisper.
”He has sent you to us, and you have saved us. Will you tell me your name?”
”f.a.n.n.y Grant.”
”f.a.n.n.y, I am going to heaven soon, and I will bear your name in my heart when I go. I will bless you for your good deed while I have breath, and I will bless you when I get to heaven. You are a good girl, and I know that G.o.d will bless you too.”
Poor f.a.n.n.y! How mean she felt! As she stood in the presence of that pure-minded child, already an angel in simple trust and confiding hope, she realized her own wickedness. The burden of her sins seemed to be settling down upon her with a weight that would crush her.
”I love you, f.a.n.n.y,” continued the invalid, ”and I will pray for you to the last moment of my life. Won't you speak to me?”
”I was very glad to do what I did,” stammered f.a.n.n.y, almost suffocated by the weight which pressed down upon her.
”I know you are; for it is more blessed to give than to receive.”
”I am very sorry you are so sick. Can I do anything to help you?”
”You have done all that could be done, f.a.n.n.y. I like to speak your name. It sounds like music to me. After what you have done, _f.a.n.n.y_ will always mean _goodness_ to me. You cannot do anything more; you have already done enough.”
”Don't you want anything?”
”No; I am happy now. I shall soon pa.s.s away, and go to my Saviour.”
Mrs. Kent sobbed.
”Don't cry, mother,” continued Jenny. ”G.o.d will take care of you, and we shall meet again.”
”Can't I get anything for you, Jenny? Isn't there anything you want?”