"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 attitude of the returned wanderer. Fanny had never before been known to be in such a frame of mind. The sternness of his expression passed 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 Fanny.
"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 Fanny, drying her tears.
She then commenced the narrative of her adventures from the time she had parted with Miss Fanny. 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 Fanny 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.