Part 18 (2/2)

”We all know that. Now, be still; Mr. Grant is coming,” said the constable.

Mr. Grant entered the library, and walked towards the chair where f.a.n.n.y sat, taking no notice of the constable. He paused before her, looking very sad, but very stern. f.a.n.n.y's bosom was bounding with emotion. She trembled; her heart was rising up into her throat, and choking her. She raised her eyes from the floor and glanced at him,--only one glance at that sad, stern face,--and then burst into tears. She did not mean to weep; did not mean to do anything which could appeal to the sympathy of her kind friend and benefactor, but she could not help it.

”I have brought her up to you, Mr. Grant,” said the constable.

”Where did you find her?”

Mr. Long would have preferred to let Mr. Grant believe that he had caught her himself; but the question was so direct that he could only give a direct answer.

”She came to my house this morning.”

”Very well, Mr. Long; I will not trouble you to remain any longer,”

added Mr. Grant.

”I hope you will not let her get away from you, sir,” said the constable, who thought his official position was slighted by this intimation; and he was curious to hear what the culprit had to say for herself.

”I will not try to get away, Mr. Grant,” interposed f.a.n.n.y.

”There is no fear of her getting away, even if she is disposed to do so.”

Mr. Long found himself obliged to leave, his office ignored, and his curiosity ungratified.

”Where have you been, f.a.n.n.y Jane?” asked Mr. Grant, when the constable had gone, his tones being the counterpart of his stern, sad face.

”In New York,” replied f.a.n.n.y, still sobbing.

”What have you done with the money you took from the drawer in the closet?”

”I spent most of it.”

”For what did you spend it?”

”I have come back to tell the whole truth, Mr. Grant. I have been very wicked and ungrateful to you. I am very sorry for what I have done; I don't ask you to forgive me, for I know you can't. I am willing to be punished as you think best, for I deserve the worst you can do to me.”

Mr. Grant was a tender-hearted man. Perhaps his own children had suffered from the gentleness of his nature; if they had, the injury had been more than compensated for in the blessings imparted by his tenderness. He was more than astonished at the att.i.tude of the returned wanderer. f.a.n.n.y had never before been known to be in such a frame of mind. The sternness of his expression pa.s.sed away; there was nothing but the sadness left. Probably he doubted the sincerity of the culprit's contrition; at least he did not realize the depth and earnestness of it.

”I will hear whatever you wish to say,” replied he, seating himself in his easy chair.

”I have been so wicked that I know you will find it hard to believe me; but I mean to tell the whole truth,” sobbed f.a.n.n.y.

”I hope you do. You may wait till you are better able to speak. The letter you sent to Mrs. Green informed us where you were, but we were unable to find you.”

”I came home as soon as I could; and I did not wish you to find me till I had done what I had to do,” answered f.a.n.n.y, drying her tears.

She then commenced the narrative of her adventures from the time she had parted with Miss f.a.n.n.y. She told how she had let the cat out of the drawer, and how she had found where the money was actually concealed; she related very minutely every incident that had occurred up to the time she had seen Mr. O'Shane and Mrs. Kent in front of the house in New York. At this point Mr. Grant became intensely interested in the story, and when f.a.n.n.y said that she had paid the poor woman's rent with one hundred dollars of the stolen money, a slight smile gathered upon his sad face.

Then she related the particulars of her interview with the sick girl, mentioning even the hymns she had sung to her. She described as well as she could the impression made upon her by the beautiful and patient sufferer; the sense of her own guilt and wickedness, which had then and there dawned upon her; and the oppressive burden she had borne in her soul when she went down into the city, which did not permit her to enjoy the pleasures of the great metropolis for which she had stolen the money, and run away from her home. f.a.n.n.y was eloquent, but the simple truth was her only inspiration.

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