CONCLUSION
IT was with eager anticipation that Mrs. Brown looked forward to the
return of the Vicar, for when she reached home and sat down to rest
and think over the matter once more, she gradually came to understand
that it was not so strange, after all, that people should doubt if such
wonderful news could be true. Indeed, the more calm and quiet she grew
the more reasonable this view of the matter became, especially when she
considered that none but herself had seen the letter from the hospital.
When, at last, she saw the Vicar walking briskly up the street, she
went at once and opened the door, for she felt sure he brought her good
news.
"I have seen her, Mrs. Brown! I have seen your Fanny," he said, almost
as eagerly as the poor woman herself had spoken that morning at the
Vicarage.
She was trembling with excitement now. "Thank God, thank God for me,
sir," she exclaimed, as the Vicar stepped in.
When she was seated in the almost bare front room, the Vicar told her
more about his visit.
"She has been very ill, indeed, and for some time it seemed likely
that if she did not die of scarlet fever, she would succumb to brain
fever, for it seems that her brain was more affected than could easily
be accounted for," said the Vicar. "The nurses told me all about this
complication, and asked me to try and persuade Fanny to tell me what
was troubling her. They had failed to do this. They knew from her
ravings when she was delirious that it had something to do with a
watch, and from what she said she was in evident fear of the police
going after her; and, of course, the natural conclusion was that
she had stolen a watch from somewhere, but she refused to tell them
anything about it."
"Oh, that watch! The misery and trouble it has caused!" said Mrs.
Brown, with a groan.
The Vicar looked surprised. "Then you have heard about it," he said:
"although Fanny seems to think she has kept the whole matter a secret."
"Yes, sir. I have heard about it; but I cannot say that I understand it
clearly. When Fanny came home for her first holiday, she had got a very
bright-looking watch, with a chain round her neck, and she told me she
had given ten shillings for it. Naturally I was angry that she should
spend her money so foolishly—the first wages she had ever earned. I
wanted her to tell her father afterwards, and let him see the watch,
but she never did tell him, and I never heard any more about it, except
what I said myself, until I had her box come home a little while ago,
and I had to look through it—for the man brought a list of things that
were in it when it was taken away from the place where she caught the
fever—and in a bag I found the watch I had seen before, and with it a
collecting-card, by which I saw that she had agreed to pay two pounds
for the watch, and two or three payments of three shillings had been
paid. I will fetch the bag, and let you see it, sir. I have not told
her father about it; for how could I let him know how our girl had
deceived me as soon as she got away from home?" And poor Mrs. Brown
burst into tears as she went out of the room to unlock Fanny's box.
She was away several minutes, and there were still traces of tears on
her face when she came back with the little print-bag in her hand.
"There, sir," she said, "that bag made the news of her death doubly
hard to bear; and I made up my mind that my husband should not have
that sorrow to endure, if I could help it. So I have kept the box
locked ever since it came back, and I put the key where I knew none but
myself would find it."
The Vicar took out the watch and looked at it. "This is worth about
fifteen shillings, I should think," he remarked, as he turned it about
in his hand.
"How could they sell it for ten, then?" said Mrs. Brown. "I am sure
Fanny told me she gave ten shillings for it," added her mother.
"Yes, I believe she told you the truth about the ten shillings," said
the Vicar. "But as you were cross with her for giving even that small
sum for it, she kept it a secret that she had so much more to pay.
What seems to have upset her so much was that these people claimed the
whole two pounds she had agreed to pay, without any abatement for the
ten shillings she gave the woman when she bought the watch; and she
had had the watch nearly six weeks before they called for the first
instalment of the two pounds. Then, if you look at this card you will
see that they carefully ignore having received anything on account of
the payment to be made;" and the Vicar pointed with his finger to the
columns where Fanny's payments had been acknowledged and the amount set
down as that still owing.
Mrs. Brown heaved a sigh of relief. "Then she really did tell the truth
about the ten shillings? Poor silly Fanny? Why didn't she tell us the
whole story, and then we might have helped her somehow," said Mrs.
Brown.
She did not enter into further particulars with the Vicar; but she
could understand how it was that Fanny could not lend her any money,
for there was the bitter knowledge of this debt hanging over her always
present to her mind, her mother thought.
"My poor foolish girl! If she could only have trusted her mother and
father," she exclaimed, tears of pity filling her eyes as she thought
of all the needless suffering Fanny had endured.
"Ah," said the Vicar, "I am afraid there are a good many like Fanny
among us. If we would only trust the love and care of the great Father
of us all, what different men and women we should be. How much happier.
How much more ready to help one another." The Vicar talked a little
while to Mrs. Brown, and then he told her what was indeed glad news;
for he had obtained permission for her and her husband to go and see
Fanny the next day. "You will have to obey orders, and wear a wrap that
will cover you and keep you from infection. You will also have to wash
your face and hands, and rinse your mouth both before you go into the
ward and when you come out," said the Vicar. "I had to submit, and I am
sure you will be willing for the sake of seeing your child," he added.
"Yes, indeed, sir, I would do anything to see my Fanny again; and I
can never be sufficiently grateful to you for all the trouble you have
taken for us."
"Well, Mrs. Brown, I think, from all I have heard, that you would have
done the same for me or a poorer neighbour. The poor family you have
been helping lately would not have accepted help from me—not, at least,
such help as I could give, but you have managed to overcome the man's
pride and prejudice. You and Miss Martin between you have helped the
girl to begin a new life, so that there is more hope for them all now
than there ever was before, and it may be we shall see Collins himself
coming to church if we are only patient enough to work and wait without
trying to hurry things. I met him as I was coming here, on his way back
to his work, I expect, and when I lifted my hat, and wished him good
afternoon, he positively returned the greeting, and looked pleasantly
at me when he did it."
Mrs. Brown smiled. "Ah, the black frock and bits of mourning Mrs.
Parsons sent to Jessie pleased her father quite as much as it pleased
the girl!" she said. "They had no money they could spend for black
things; but with what Miss Martin and Mrs. Parsons and another friend
gave them they were able to go into comfortable mourning for their
mother, and this respect paid to the memory of his wife has done more
to touch Collins than anything else could. And now he has begun to give
up the drink again, Jessie hopes to make the home more comfortable for
all of them. Do you know, sir, she has gone to work at the blacking
factory three days a week? They need extra help there, and Jessie has
gone that she may be able to do something towards paying off the debts
that have grown to be such a burden to them lately."
"Brave girl!" said the Vicar. "Tell her that we shall all be proud of
her yet, and I shall try to get her father to join our men's club when
it is open. I can say a good word to him about his daughter, and that
will help me to open the subject as soon as things are forward enough."
The Vicar talked thus, thinking it would be good to draw Mrs. Brown's
mind away from her own trouble and joy for a little while. But as he
was leaving, he said—
"Now, if Eliza can be spared for an hour, she shall come home for you
to tell her the good news yourself. Brown, I expect, will be home
to-night, for I sent him a telegram to say he had better come and have
matters cleared up."
As Mrs. Brown anticipated, when she thanked the Vicar for his promise
that Eliza should come home for an hour or two, it was not long before
the girl appeared, and then all the wonderful tale had to be told over
again. When Selina and Minnie came home from school, they had a fresh
item of news. A friend of Fanny's, not having heard the story taken to
school in the morning, had brought a bunch of flowers to put on her
grave, and then, hearing what had happened, Miss Martin had suggested
that the flowers should still be placed on the grave, but with the
inscription, "For the stranger who lies here instead of Fanny Brown."
By the last train Brown himself came home, having obtained leave to
come and do what he could towards clearing up the mystery that led to
the report of his daughter's death.
Like everybody else, he was disposed to think the present information
might prove false, until his wife told him that the Vicar had been to
the hospital and actually seen and talked with Fanny.
"We are both going to see her to-morrow," she added. "But we shall have
to obey the rules and regulations, the Vicar told me, although they may
seem strange to us."
"All right, we will do as we are told, for the sake of seeing our
girl," said Brown; "but I shall want to know afterwards how they came
to send us that blundering message."
But before they went to bed that night they were destined to hear
something more about the matter. Just as they were going upstairs
there came a knock at the door, and when it was opened Brown saw a
well-dressed man, whom he took to be a clerk, standing on the doorstep.
"Is this Mr. Brown's?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, my name is Brown."
"And you have a daughter ill in the fever hospital?" said the stranger.
"Yes, sir. I heard she was there to-day, though we thought we had laid
her under the trees in our churchyard. Is that the business you have
come about?" asked Brown.
"Yes. I have come to know where the true Fanny Brown is buried, for it
is Mary Brown that is still living in the hospital."
Mrs. Brown heard the words, and her heart almost died within her.
"My child's name is Fanny, not Mary," she said, going to the door.
"Will you come inside, sir, and let us see what this other mistake may
mean?" said Brown.
The man stepped in. "My daughter's name was Frances Florence Brown,
and she was about sixteen. I had sent her to boarding-school since
her mother's death, two years ago. The fever, it seems, broke out in
the school, and they were obliged to send my poor girl away before
I could have any choice in the matter. She was called Fanny by her
schoolfellows, and that was how the name of 'Fanny' came to be entered
in the books of the hospital. I have written again and again to the
authorities, and was told each time that my child was seriously ill,
until yesterday I insisted upon seeing her for myself; and then, judge
what my feelings were to see that it was altogether another Fanny
Brown, and not my daughter at all. The Nurse told me then that this
girl said her name was Fanny, but she had been entered in the books as
Mary Brown. She had been admitted on the same day, and about the same
time as my daughter, and that was how the two names had been confused.
You received notice of your daughter's death, when my daughter died."
"May I ask, sir, what sort of a girl your child was?" said Brown.
"Rather small for her age, and very delicate," said the grieved father,
with tears in his eyes. "The girl I saw to-day is not the least like
her."
"No, sir, I think there cannot be any mistake this time, for our Vicar
went to see our Fanny this morning, and he would be sure to know her.
Besides, she talked to him for a little while, though they would not
let him stay very long," said Mrs. Brown.
It was agreed before the stranger left that he should come early the
next day to see where his child was buried; and he did this before the
Browns went to the hospital. The Vicar had been informed of this, and
met them at the grave; and the bunch of flowers left there for "the
stranger" touched the father's heart very deeply.
When Brown and his wife reached the hospital, they found Fanny
anxiously looking out for them.
"You won't be able to stay long, mother," she said, "and I want to tell
you something while I can. I told the Vicar all about the watch; but
in my box you will find a new brown frock, and I have not paid for it.
I got a new place, where I was to have ten pounds a year, that I might
pay for this and the watch. Oh, you don't know what a foolish, wicked
girl I have been!" said Fanny, bursting into tears.
"Hush! hush! You must not cry, or I shall have to send your mother
away, and then you will not be able to tell her what you want her to
do," said Nurse, speaking very firmly.
The tears were in her father's eyes as well as in Fanny's; but he
managed to say—
"You want me to pay for this dress, dear?"
"Oh yes, if you can. I want you to lend me the money, and when I get
well, and can go to service again, I will pay you back, daddy."
"Yes, yes," said her mother; "we will do just what you wish. We have
saved some money, you know, to buy new furniture for the parlour, but
your new frock shall be paid for out of it directly."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, mother," said Fanny, gratefully. "Now I
shall be able to go to sleep, Nurse," she added; "for my father and
mother will pay what I owe, I am sure. Give my love to Miriam when you
see her. And if Mrs. Lloyd's servant leaves, ask Mrs. Lloyd to wait
till I get well, and let me come back to her."
"There, no more," said Nurse; "you must go now," she said, speaking to
Mrs. Brown; and the next minute they were hurried out of the ward, and
Fanny was swallowing some medicine that should help her to go to sleep.
The rest of my story is soon told. Mrs. Brown went home and once more
unlocked Fanny's box. As the girl had told her, she found Mrs. Scott's
bill in the pocket, with a few words added that the writer could not
afford to give long credit, and that she hoped half the price of the
dress would be paid the following week. She showed this to her husband,
and he agreed that the whole twenty-five shillings must be paid at
once. It seemed an extravagant amount to Mrs. Brown, who had been used
to get a frock for Fanny at the cost of a few shillings, even when she
had to pay for it herself; and when she looked again at this brown
dress she could only say that it was not worth half the money now, it
was so tumbled.
But she took the bill and the money to Mrs. Scott that same afternoon,
while Brown and a friend, who understood the value of watches, went to
see Judd. The man began talking to Brown at first very much as he had
talked to Fanny; but he soon learned that the police would be called
in, and the whole case taken before a magistrate, if he did not do as
Brown wished. Sorely against his will, he had to give a receipt for
the ten shillings Fanny had first paid, and acknowledge this as part
payment for the watch. Then followed a wrangle with Brown's friend,
whom Judd learned was as well acquainted with the value of these
watches as himself. The storm raged round the sum of four shillings,
which Brown's friend declared had already been paid in excess of the
value of the watch. Fifteen shillings was a fair retail price; and,
as Fanny had paid nineteen shillings, he demanded that four shillings
should be returned to her father; for even at this reduced price, Judd
would receive a fair profit, and more than this he had no right to
demand.
After a good deal of haggling the four shillings were returned, and
the collecting-card receipted in such a way, that although fifteen
shillings only were paid, Fanny received a full discharge for the whole
amount she had contracted to pay, and no further claim could be made
upon her in the future.
This settled, Brown went to hear what the people had to say who had
sent to tell him that Fanny was dead. Their explanation was very much
like what he had heard from the other Mr. Brown, as to the similarity
of the girls' names, but he also added that the violence of the
epidemic for a short time had taxed their resources, and compelled
their officials to work long beyond their usual hours. Mr. Brown was
asked to take these circumstances into his consideration in making
complaint about the mistake that had arisen.
With regard to the expense he had incurred, in paying for the funeral
of a stranger, ample compensation would be made at once; so that when
he left, Brown felt he had very little to grumble about.
A few weeks later, Fanny was sent to a convalescent home at the
seaside, and when she returned she was allowed to go direct home to her
friends. She was looking very different then from what she did when the
Vicar saw her in the hospital. She looked older and graver too, for
the bitter experience she had passed through she was never likely to
forget. She was wiser too, and more diffident; less eager to receive
high wages than to secure a comfortable home, when she would be able
once more to take up the threads of life, and learn to be useful.
She had said she would like to go back to Mrs. Lloyd's, but she had
small hope of being able to do so, until one day Miss Martin sent to
tell her that Mrs. Lloyd's servant had been obliged to go home, because
her mother was ill, and Mrs. Lloyd would be glad if Fanny could go to
her for a few weeks.
The girl needed no second invitation. She went the same day, and the
few weeks extended to months and even years; for the thought of going
to a new place was one of horror to Fanny, and though she had to dress
plainly, and be careful and economical, there was not a more happy,
healthy, winsome lassie than Fanny Brown, who had once been so wilful
and selfish as to well-nigh break her mother's heart.
THE END
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.