Mr. Grant was a prudent and judicious man. He conversed with each party alone, and, being then in doubt, he consulted the uncle. John Grant's testimony, in the main, confirmed that of his wife, though he was willing to confess that the aunt "might have been a little hard on the child." Mr. Grant was far from satisfied; he thought it more than probable that Fanny was wilful, but he could not endure to think of her being abused. The sacred duty imposed upon him could not be trifled with, and, as the only method by which he could meet the demands of his conscience, he decided to take the orphan to Woodville with him.
The uncle and the aunt, who had no children of their own, objected to this procedure, both because they did not wish to part with the child, and because her withdrawal from their care implied a condemnation of their former treatment of the orphan. Mr. Grant, however, succeeded in overcoming both of these objections, and they consented that Fanny should remain at Woodville for two years; Mrs. Grant assuring the benevolent broker that he would be glad to get rid of her in less than six months.
Fanny had behaved so well during the stay of Mr. Grant at her uncle's house, that he was completely deceived in regard to her real character. The presence of so important a person as the wealthy broker, who had been represented to her as a person hardly less dignified than the President of the United States, had overawed her, and put her on her best behavior. Her kind friend, therefore, was unable to realize that the orphan girl was half so bad as she was described to be by her aunt.
Edward Grant, while in the employ of the broker, had often visited Woodville, and being especially pleased with the person and the manners of Miss Fanny, had named his own daughter after her. On the arrival of the orphan at her new home, it was deemed fitting that Miss Fanny should have the especial care of her namesake, then only ten years of age. Fanny Jane, amid the novelties of the great house, and the beautiful grounds, was so much occupied for a few weeks that she behaved very well; but when she grew weary of horses and boats, house and grounds, she astonished her young mistress by conduct so outrageous that Miss Fanny wept in despair over the miserable failure she made in governing her charge.
Miss Bertha was called in to assist in taming the refractory subject; but it was soon found that Fanny Jane had none of the chivalrous reverence which had rendered the wild Noddy Newman tolerably tractable, and her failure was as complete and ignominious as that of her sister. Mr. Grant was finally appealed to; and the sternness and severity to which he was compelled to resort were, for a time, effectual. But even these measures began to be impotent, and the broker realized that the uncle and aunt had understood the case better than himself.
As a last resort, he threatened to send the wayward girl back to her uncle, who had now removed to Minnesota; for it would be better for such a child to put her down to hard work, and to keep her constantly under the eye of her guardians. This threat was more efficient than all the other means which had been used to keep the child within the bounds of common decency; but even this had grown stale upon her.
Miss Fanny, finding that her failure involved no disgrace, renewed her exertions to reform her pupil and charge. With the utmost diligence she instructed her in her moral and religious duties, and endeavored by love and gentleness to win her from the error of her ways. Sometimes she felt that there was much to encourage her, at other times she despaired of ever making any impression upon her pupil. Her father induced her to persevere, for he had hope. He remembered what Edward Grant, her father, had been when a child; that he was accounted the worst and most hopeless boy in the town where he resided; but in spite of this unpromising beginning, he had become a very worthy and respectable man. Such a change might in due time come over the daughter, and Mr. Grant frequently impressed upon Fanny the necessity of perseverance, and of remitting no effort to reach her pupil's moral and spiritual nature.
If Miss Fanny did not improve her pupil, she did improve herself, for the more of love and truth we impart to others, the more we have for ourselves; making the very pretty moral paradox, that the more of love and truth we subtract from our store, the more we have left in our own heart.
Fanny Jane was undoubtedly a very naughty girl. We do not mean to say that she was merely rude and unlady-like in her manners; that she was occasionally angry without a just cause; that she had a few bad habits, and a few venial faults: she was impudent to her benefactors; she was untruthful, and even dishonest. Not only to Fanny and Bertha, but also to Mr. Grant, she was openly defiant. She used bad language, told falsehoods by wholesale, and had several times been detected in stealing valuable articles from the house.
Yet with all her faults and failings, there were some good traits in Fanny Jane, though they seemed like the two grains of wheat in the bushel of chaff. What these redeeming features of her character were, we shall let our story disclose. One meeting the wayward girl on the lawn for a moment, or spending a few hours in the house with her, would have been deceived, as Mr. Grant had been, for her black eyes were full of animation; her manner was spirited, and her answers were quick and sharp. She was light and rather graceful in form; she did not appear to walk; she flashed about like a meteor. She was bold and daring in her flights, and as strong as most boys of her years. She would not run away from a rude boy; she laughed in the thunder storm, and did not fear to go through the glen at midnight.