"No; I am happy now. I shall soon pass away, and go to my Saviour."
Mrs. Kent sobbed.
"Don't cry, mother," continued Jenny. "God will take care of you, and we shall meet again."
"Can't I get anything for you, Jenny? Isn't there anything you want?" asked Fanny, who felt that she must do something, or she would soon be overwhelmed by the emotions which agitated her soul.
"Nothing, Fanny. I don't think much of the things around me now. I feel just as though I didn't belong here. This is not my home. Can you sing, Fanny?"
"I do sing, sometimes," replied she.
"Will you sing to me?"
"I will; what shall I sing?"
"Something about heaven?" answered Jenny, as she sank back upon the pillow, and fixed her gaze upon the ceiling, as though beyond it she could see the happy home which, was ever in her thoughts.
Fanny, as we have said before, was a remarkable singer, not in the artistic sense, though, with proper cultivation of her talent, she might have been all this also. She had a fine voice, and sang as naturally as the birds sing. But this was not an occasion for artistic effects. Never before had the soul of the wayward girl been so stirred. She was a Sunday-school scholar, and familiar with most of the beautiful and touching melodies contained in children's song-books.