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. f.a.n.n.y 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, f.a.n.n.y, I forgive you," said he.

"I do not deserve to be forgiven, sir," sobbed f.a.n.n.y.

"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 f.a.n.n.y 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 f.a.n.n.y, handing him the paper.

Mr. Grant glanced at it, and put it in his pocket.

"f.a.n.n.y, 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."

"I have told the whole truth, Mr. Grant; and I am willing to do anything you say. I did not ask or expect to be forgiven."

"I could have forgiven you, even without the request of the dying girl."

"I do not deserve it. I expected to be sent to prison," sobbed the penitent.

"I never thought of sending you to prison, or to any such place. I say I forgive you, but I shall be compelled to send you to your uncle's in Minnesota."

"I am willing to go," replied f.a.n.n.y, who, a week before, would have deemed this a greater hardship than being sent to prison.

f.a.n.n.y went to her breakfast. Mrs. Green and the servants were surprised, not to say disgusted, to see Mr. Grant treat her with so much tenderness.

CHAPTER XII.

THE NEW HOME.

When f.a.n.n.y had finished her breakfast, she put on her best clothes, and started for New York with Mr. Grant, who, perhaps, was more desirous of a.s.sisting the mother of Jenny than of confirming the story to which he had just listened with so much interest and sympathy. We need not say that the narrative of the returned wanderer was found to be true in every respect, or that Mr. Grant destroyed the poor woman's note of hand, by which she promised to pay the sums f.a.n.n.y had expended in her behalf.

Mrs. Kent, while she condemned and regretted the misdeeds of f.a.n.n.y, was enthusiastic in the praise she bestowed upon her kindness to the dying girl, and of her tenderness and devotion in those last trying hours.

Mr. Grant could not doubt that a great change had come over f.a.n.n.y; that she earnestly intended to lead a true and good life. Whether she would persevere, and in any degree realize her present high aspirations, remained yet to be demonstrated; but he was hopeful. The solemn and impressive scene through which she had pa.s.sed had left deep impressions upon her mind and heart, which he hoped would prove as lasting as they were strong.

Mr. Grant called with f.a.n.n.y to see Dr. Porter; and the benevolent physician gladdened his heart by the warm commendations he lavished upon f.a.n.n.y; and, without knowing of her misdeeds, he declared she was a treasure in whom her friends ought continually to rejoice. It was not necessary that he should know what evil she had done, for he might never see her again, and Mr. Grant's business with him related solely to the future comfort of the soldier's family. The doctor had done everything that could be done for Mrs. Kent, and his family were so deeply interested in the poor woman that she was not likely to suffer in the future. Mr. Grant promised to see him again, and cooperate with him in doing what might be needed for her comfort and happiness.

Mr. Grant and f.a.n.n.y returned to Woodville by the noon train. The penitent girl felt that she had been forgiven, and the kindness of her friend made her all the more determined to be faithful to the resolutions she had made. She had not hoped to escape the punishment she merited, and had not been prepared for the tender words which had been addressed to her when it was evident that her penitence was real.

"f.a.n.n.y," said Mr. Grant, as they entered the library, on her return, "I shall, as I said before, be obliged to send you to your uncle in Minnesota."

"I am willing to go, sir," replied she, humbly.

"I understand you have frequently declared that you would not go."

"I have, but I am sorry I said anything of the kind."

"But I do not intend to send you there as a punishment for what you have done. I freely forgive you."

"You are very kind to me, Mr. Grant, and I will do anything you wish without complaining."

"I am glad to see so excellent a spirit in you, which makes me sorry to send you away at this time. If your conduct had warranted it before, I might have made different arrangements; but it is too late now. I have written to your uncle, informing him that you would be with him next week. I promised him and your aunt, when I brought you here, that you should be returned to them in two years; and that time has now expired.

We shall be absent in Europe about six months; when we return, if your uncle is willing, I should be very glad to have you come back to Woodville. I hope you will like your aunt better than you used to like her."

"I shall, sir."

Mr. Grant did not think it necessary to indulge in any long lectures.

He had forgiven f.a.n.n.y, and he hoped her future conduct would justify his clemency. Mrs. Green and the servants saw that she was a different being. She was no longer rough, disobedient, and impertinent, for she entered at once upon her effort to be kind and obliging to all in the house. In the afternoon Mr. Grant went up to Hudson, where he had left Bertha and f.a.n.n.y. When he had gone, the reformed girl paid a visit to Ben the boatman, still confined to his bed with the rheumatism. She surprised him by offering to read to him from the Bible--an offer which he gladly accepted.

The next day she went to school, carrying a note to the teacher, which Mr. Grant had written for her. She expected to be reproached and reproved here, but the teacher did not allude to her past conduct, prompted in this course by the note; her companions were astonished and awed by her quiet dignity, and even Kate Magner said less than might have been expected. f.a.n.n.y told her what had happened after the separation at Pennville, and solemnly a.s.sured her that she intended always to be a good girl in the future.

f.a.n.n.y spent Sat.u.r.day afternoon with Ben, seated by his bedside till dark, reading and singing to him, giving him his medicine, and supplying all his wants. She told him the story of her wanderings in New York, of the death and the funeral of Jenny, all of which the kindness and tenderness of f.a.n.n.y to himself made real. He commended her good resolutions, and hoped that, in her new home in the West, she would be able to carry them out.

On Monday the family returned from Hudson, and f.a.n.n.y repeated her story to Bertha and her sister. They were moved to tears by her narrative. It had seemed to them that nothing short of a miracle could reform the wayward girl; but the miracle had been wrought, as was fully proved during the remainder of f.a.n.n.y's stay at Woodville. It did not seem possible that the gentle and obliging girl, who was a blessing to all in the house, had ever been the grief and the sorrow of her friends, a thorn and a torment to all who came in contact with her.

When the time for f.a.n.n.y to leave for Minnesota arrived, it was hard for the family to part with her. Miss f.a.n.n.y begged that the arrangements might be altered; that she might be permitted to remain at Woodville, or even to go to Europe with them; but her father thought it best that the original plan should be carried out; he believed that it would be better for f.a.n.n.y herself. There were many tears shed when they parted.

Miss f.a.n.n.y was sorry to lose her _protegee_ just as her teachings, quickened into life by her visit to the city, were beginning to bear their fruits.

Mr. Grant had decided to attend the young traveller to her new home, for he was unwilling to trust her to the care of any chance friend who might undertake the charge of her, fearful lest the good impressions which were beginning to take root in her soul might be weakened during the long journey. They travelled leisurely, and at the end of a week reached Mankato, at the great bend of the Minnesota River, in the southern part of the state.

John Grant, f.a.n.n.y's uncle, lived at a settlement near the southern line of the state, about seventy miles from Mankato; and thither Mr. Grant and f.a.n.n.y proceeded in a wagon, hired for the purpose. They were warmly welcomed by the settlers, who seldom saw any one from the busy walks of civilization. Mr. Grant remained but one day, which he used mainly in informing the future guardians of f.a.n.n.y in regard to her moral, mental, and spiritual needs. He told them of the change which had come over her, and hoped they would do all they could to foster and encourage the growth of her good principles. When he had faithfully discharged his duty to his late charge, he took an affectionate leave of her, and departed for his home, returning to Mankato in the wagon by which he had come.

f.a.n.n.y now entered upon her new life, and had an opportunity to take a survey of her future home. The settlement consisted of about fifty persons, most of whom had emigrated from states east of the Mississippi. Among them were a few Germans, Swedes, and Norwegians. The country was a perfect garden by nature, and the rich, deep soil produced the most abundant crops. The settlement was located on one of those beautiful lakes for which Minnesota is distinguished, whose bright, clear waters abound in fish. The lake was eight miles in length, with an average width of about three miles. From it flowed a small stream, and after receiving other tributaries, discharged its waters into the Watonwan, which in its turn entered the Minnesota.

John Grant was one of the most important persons at the settlement. He had cleared up a large farm on the border of the lake, and, with more means at the beginning than most of his neighbors, had realized a high degree of prosperity. As he had no children of his own, he was glad to have f.a.n.n.y as a member of his family, especially since he had learned of the improvement in her conduct.

About one third of the population of the settlement were children, and a school had been established for their benefit. The instructor, Mr.

Osborne, a young man, brother of one of the settlers, had lost his right leg and his left arm by a terrible railroad accident. He was a graduate of an Ohio college, and had been engaged in preparing himself for the ministry when the calamity occurred which rendered him unfit for the active duties of life. From choice rather than from necessity, he remained with his brother at the settlement, being both teacher and preacher.

f.a.n.n.y immediately entered his school, and devoted herself with great earnestness to her studies. She soon became a favorite of Mr. Osborne, who had learned a portion of her history, and felt a strong interest in her welfare. She was a good scholar, and her progress was entirely satisfactory to her teacher.

In the home of her uncle, f.a.n.n.y found, on her arrival, a boy of her own age. His name was Ethan French; and he had come from Illinois with Mr.

Grant to work on the farm. He had no parents living, and was expected to remain with his employer till he was twenty-one. He was an uncouth fellow, and though he could read, write, and cipher, he seemed to be as uncultivated and bearish as the wild Indians that roamed through the country. f.a.n.n.y tried to be his friend, and never neglected an opportunity to do him a kindness; but the more she tried to serve him, the more the distance between them seemed to be increased.

"I don't want nothin' to do with gals," was a favorite maxim with Ethan; and f.a.n.n.y found it impossible to be very sociable with him. He did not repel or resent her well-meant advances; but he edged off, and got out of the way as fast as he could.

f.a.n.n.y had made up her mind, before she came to her uncle's home, to be contented and happy there; and she was surprised to find that she liked her new residence very much. Her aunt was by no means the person her former experience had taught her to believe she was. f.a.n.n.y was docile and obedient, and Mrs. Grant was no longer unjust and tyrannical. They agreed together remarkably well, and during the short period they were permitted to be together, no hard thoughts existed, and no harsh words pa.s.sed between them.

Though f.a.n.n.y had not been accustomed to work at Woodville, she readily adapted herself to her new station. There were no servants at the settlement; people did their own work; and f.a.n.n.y, true to the good principles she had chosen, did all she could to a.s.sist her aunt.