At first our heroine found the change in her life not altogether agreeable. She missed the free life of the streets, which, in spite of all its privations and discomforts, is not without a charm to the homeless young Arabs that swarm about the streets. But in a short time she acquired new tastes, never, however, losing that fresh and buoyant spirit, and sturdy independence, which had enabled her to fight her way when she was compelled to do so. It was evident that Jane, whether from her natural tendencies or her past experiences, was not likely to settle down into one of those average, stereotyped, uninteresting young ladies that abound in our modern society. Nature was sure to assert itself in a certain piquancy and freshness of manner, which, added to her personal attraction, will, I think, eventually make Tom—the name slipped from my pen unintentionally—a great favorite in society. Her faults, at some of which I have hinted, she did not at once get rid of; but the influence of an excellent mother will, I am convinced, in time eradicate most of them.
When James Lindsay learned that his sister-in-law had recovered her child, he went abroad without seeing her, being ashamed no doubt to meet one whom he had so deeply injured, and there was no difficulty in reclaiming the property, the income of which had for some years been wrongly diverted to his use.
Such of my readers as have conceived an admiration for granny may be interested to learn that she kept on in her western journey, hoping to come upon Tom somewhere; but of course she was disappointed. She arrived at length in Chicago, and, having a considerable sum of money in her possession, decided to stay there. She did not venture to open communication with James Lindsay, lest he should take from her the money she had at present, on account of her careless guardianship. Hiring a room, she gave herself up to the delights of drinking and smoking. The last habit proved fatal, when, one afternoon, she lay down with her lighted pipe in her mouth. Falling asleep, the pipe fell upon the bed, setting on fire the bedclothes, and next the clothing of Margaret herself. Whether she was suffocated before awakening, or whether she awoke too late for rescue, was never ascertained. Certain it is, however, that when the smell of smoke called in the neighbors, granny was quite dead, expiating by her tragical end the sins of her miserable career.
I must sketch one more scene, and then this chronicle of Tom’s adventurous life will close.
Fifteen months after Tom made the acquaintance of Captain Barnes, that worthy officer returned to New York. He at once repaired to the house of his sister, Mrs. Merton, expecting to find Tom. He had thought of her very often while at sea, and pictured with pleasure the improvement which she would exhibit after a year’s training and education.
“I have no child. I probably shall never have one,” he said to himself. “If Jenny has become such a girl as I hope, I will formally adopt her, and when I have become too old to go to sea, we will make a pleasant and cosey little home together, and she shall cheer my declining years.”
Such thoughts as these warmed the heart of the sailor, and made him anxious for the voyage to close. He had heard nothing from his sister since he left, and was, therefore, ignorant of the fact that Tom was no longer in her charge.
When he reached his sister’s house, and had kissed her and his nieces, he inquired eagerly:—
“Where’s Jane? Has she improved?”
“Then you haven’t heard, Albert,” said his sister, not without embarrassment, for she was about to deceive him.