Then she related the particulars of her interview with the sick girl, mentioning even the hymns she had sung to her. She described as well as she could the impression made upon her by the beautiful and patient sufferer; the sense of her own guilt and wickedness, which had then and there dawned upon her; and the oppressive burden she had borne in her soul when she went down into the city, which did not permit her to enjoy the pleasures of the great metropolis for which she had stolen the money, and run away from her home. Fanny was eloquent, but the simple truth was her only inspiration.
Mr. Grant evidently understood the frame of mind which she described, and when she came to her final interview with the dying girl, he could hardly repress a tear in his own eyes. Fanny omitted nothing, but told every incident, and repeated all she could remember of the conversation of poor Jenny,—and hardly a word of it was forgotten,—confirming her statement by exhibiting the anchor on her bosom, and the paper given her by the dying saint.
Mr. Grant read the paper, and the tears came to his eyes in spite of his efforts to suppress them.
"For her sake, Fanny, I forgive you," said he.
"I do not deserve to be forgiven, sir," sobbed Fanny.
"I could not resist such an appeal as this," answered Mr. Grant, glancing at the paper again.
"I would have come home then, when poor Jenny was gone, but I thought I ought to stay and do what I could for the poor woman;" and Fanny continued her narrative, describing everything that took place at Mrs. Kent's till her departure, including her visit to Dr. Porter's, the funeral, and her confession to the bereaved mother.
"Mrs. Kent felt very bad when I told her that I had stolen the money; and she promised to pay you all I had spent for her. She gave me this note for you," continued Fanny, handing him the paper.
Mr. Grant glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.
"Fanny, if your penitence is sincere, as I hope and believe it is, I shall be thankful that this event has happened," said he. "I should have been glad of an opportunity to do what you have done with my money. It would have been wrong for you to steal it, even to relieve the distress of so needy and deserving a person as the soldier's wife; but you have put it to a good use. It is impossible for me to doubt your story, but I wish to confirm it. When you have had your breakfast, you may go to the city with me, and we will visit Mrs. Kent."