Part 16 (1/2)
”I am here,” replied f.a.n.n.y, almost choked with emotion.
”We shall meet in heaven,” said the dying one. ”Have you been very naughty?”
”I have,” sobbed f.a.n.n.y.
Jenny asked for paper and pencil, and when her mother had raised her on the bed, she wrote, with trembling hand, these words:--
”_Please to forgive f.a.n.n.y, for the sake of her dying friend, Jenny Kent._”
”Take this, f.a.n.n.y: G.o.d will forgive you.”
It was evident to the experienced eye of Mrs. Kent that Jenny was going from earth. The sufferer lay with her gaze fixed upon the ceiling, and her hands clasped, as in silent prayer. She seemed to be communing with the angels. She struggled for breath, and her mother watched her in the most painful anxiety.
”Good by, mother,” said she, at last. ”Good by, Eddy: I'm going home.”
Mrs. Kent took her offered hand, and kissed her, struggling all the time to be calm. Little Eddy was raised up to the bed, and kissed his departing sister.
”f.a.n.n.y,” gasped she, extending her trembling hand.
f.a.n.n.y took the hand.
”Good by.”
”Good by, Jenny,” she answered, awed and trembling with agitation at the impressive scene.
The dying girl closed her eyes. But a moment after she pressed the hand of f.a.n.n.y, and murmured,--
”HOPE AND HAVE.”
She was silent then; her bosom soon ceased to heave; the ransomed spirit rose from the pain-enc.u.mbered body, and soared away to its angel-home!
CHAPTER X.
GOOD OUT OF EVIL.
Peacefully, on what had been her couch of pain, lay the silent form of Jenny. The room resounded with the sobs of the mother and the brother, and hardly less with the wailings of the stranger, who, in a few brief hours had found and lost the truest and best of earthly friends. The darkness gathered, and still they wept--the darkness from which Jenny had fled to the brightness of the eternal world, where there is no night or sorrow. There was woe in that humble abode, while heaven's high arches rang with paeans of rejoicing that a ransomed soul had joined the happy bands above.
There were no kind and sympathizing friends to go into that hovel and deck the marble form in the vestments of the grave. f.a.n.n.y was the first to realize that there was something to be done: she was a stranger to such a scene; she knew not what to do; but she told Mrs. Kent that she would go out and obtain a.s.sistance. With hurried step she walked down to the residence of the physician who had so gently and feelingly ministered to the sufferer. She found the doctor at home, and informed him of the sad event. Since his return he had told his wife and daughter of the beautiful girl who was dying in the cottage up the street. He called them into his library, and f.a.n.n.y, with tearful eyes and broken voice, repeated her narrative of the pa.s.sing away of poor Jenny.
The ladies promptly expressed their intention to visit the bereaved mother, and discharge the duties the occasion required. A carriage was called, in which the benevolent physician, his wife and daughter, and f.a.n.n.y, proceeded to the house of Mrs. Kent. They were the kindest and tenderest of friends, and the sorrowing mother, grateful to them for their good offices, and grateful to G.o.d for sending them to her, was relieved of a great load of pain and anxiety. At a late hour they departed, with the promise to come again on the following day.
Hour after hour Mrs. Kent and f.a.n.n.y sat in the chamber of death, talking about the gentle one who had pa.s.sed away, and was at rest. It was nearly morning before f.a.n.n.y, worn out by excitement and fatigue, could be prevailed upon to take the rest she needed. Mrs. Kent made a bed for her on the kitchen floor, and she slept for a few hours. When she awoke, her first thought was of Jenny; and all the events of the previous day and evening pa.s.sed in review before her. Her soul had been sanctified by communion with the sainted spirit of her departed friend.
On the day before, her current of being seemed suddenly to have stopped in its course, and then to have taken a new direction. Her thoughts, her hopes, her aspirations had all been changed. She had resolved to be good--so solemnly and truly resolved to be good, that she felt like a new creature.
She prayed to the good Father, who had been revealed to her by the dying girl; and from her prayers came a strength which was a new life to her soul. From her strong desire to be good--to be what Jenny had been--had grown up a new faith.
In the forenoon came the wife and daughter of the good physician again upon the mission of mercy. They had requested the attendance of an undertaker, and a.s.sumed the whole charge of the funeral of Jenny, which was to take place on the third day after her death.
f.a.n.n.y had hardly thought of herself since the angel of death entered the house, though she had been weighed down by a burden of guilt that did not embody itself in particular thoughts. In her sincere penitence, and in her firm and sacred resolve to be good and true, she had found only a partial peace of mind. She had not a doubt in regard to her future course: she must return to Woodville, and submit to any punishment which her kind friends might impose upon her. She was willing to suffer for what she had done; she was even willing to be sent to her uncle's in Minnesota; and this feeling of submission was the best evidence to herself of the reality of her repentance.