“I have been counting on Harleigh Furze all the week,” she said, “and I shall go there. You can take Drom Jones to the Park if you like. It will not be the first shabby trick you have played me, George Green, but it will be the last.”
“Don’t be stupid, Fan. What is a fellow to do?”
“What he likes.”
At this moment Andromeda herself appeared on the scene, and, without another word, Fanny walked away.
But it was not until she had quite got away from the houses, and had walked some distance from the tram terminus, that she succeeded in overcoming the ill-humour that possessed her; and when she entered a field where no one was in sight, the first thing she did was to sit down upon a green bank and shed a few hot tears—not many, for Fanny was a girl of spirit, and did not indulge in such weaknesses as a rule. It was not jealousy in regard to George Green that troubled her, for after the first feeling of annoyance had passed away she did not give him a thought, but a restlessness that had taken possession of her, and that caused her to feel her own life to be altogether unsatisfactory. Not that it had ever occurred to her to think about her life until lately; but a subtle change had been going on within the girl which could scarcely be explained or accounted for. Fanny was active and curious, and had the desire to know which characterises some young folk. She had been sent to school long enough to learn to read, and she devoured everything that came in her way. Her knowledge, therefore, was of a very miscellaneous kind. Such periodicals as Paradise Grove affected were always read by her, for she borrowed every scrap that she saw, and until lately no girl more loved to shock the sensibilities of the Christian girls working beside her with impudent and blasphemous assertions than Fanny Burton. But, thanks to the Basket Woman, Fanny had certainly been growing more quiet and less confident lately. Instead of glorying in her surroundings she was sickened by them, and there had sprung up within her a great scorn of herself and her own people, and an awakening desire after better things.
And here was the girl on a beautiful Sunday afternoon away from the dirt and the heat of Paradise Grove, and face to face with Nature. Every step that she took drew her farther from the town and closer to the heart of the green forest. The flowers grew in the hedge, the daisies kissed her feet, the soft air fanned her face, and the tall grasses thrust themselves caressingly into her ungloved hands. It seemed that a great hush settled down upon her, and a new refinement of feeling, and then a strange hunger after God. The unbelievers’ words and works, the clamour of the court where she lived, the riotous behaviour and noisy talk of companions, seemed to be like things she had known in a bad dream; and now she was living in a new life. Was it earth or heaven? And would the great God—in whom, after all, she did hope—take notice of poor Fan Burton? I do not think that the feelings which so moved this girl would have been called into existence had she gone to the woods in company with her associates, or had the occasion been the annual picnic of the factory where she worked, or even a Sunday-school treat, where she was one of several hundreds. But she was alone with Nature and with God; and perhaps if we could make this possible to those for whom we build mission-halls, and provide crowded meetings, others would be similarly affected.
The girl walked or rested, with some new beauty to arrest her at every step, and with peaceful, purifying thoughts floating in her mind, until presently there came through the trees the sweet sound of church bells chiming their invitation to prayer. For a few moments, with clasped hands, and eyes that dared to look earnestly up to the blue skies, she stood and listened; and then, impelled by she knew not what, she knelt on the grass and offered her first prayer—a prayer odd enough to raise a smile if there had been any one to hear it, but sincere enough to win its way to heaven.
“Our Father which art in heaven, if You can hear me, and if You can help me, please do. I am so hard and so wrong, and such a fool, that I don’t know nothing, but I want to know, and I want to be better; please make me want it more. If You will help me I’ll try to be good, for Thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever, Amen. There, now, I’ve prayed; I really have prayed; and if there is Anything to hear, something will come of it. Anyway, it has done me good to pray, and I will go back home and see what is to be done next.”
Sweeter than ever seemed the flowers, and greener the trees, as the girl walked quietly and reluctantly away from the wood, feeling almost as if something new was going to happen. Nothing did happen until she had nearly reached Paradise Grove, and then she saw a crowd.
“What is it, Bet?” she asked of one of the girls who was standing near.