Part 18 (2/2)
”No thanks to me in this matter, Agnes; Mr. W---- has been retained by one who does not wish his name known; one who would be glad, I fancy, to have a nearer right to stand by you through these coming scenes, but who will not trouble you with these matters at present.”
A bright blush came up in Agnes' cheek, and as suddenly died away as she said:
”One question more, uncle; when will it take place--the trial, I mean?”
”It will probably come on in November,” her uncle answered.
”Two long months of imprisonment for my poor brother!” said Agnes.
”But remember, Agnes, those two months will be diligently employed by his counsel in preparing his defence.”
”And by those on the other side, in making strong their cause against him, uncle. My poor dear Lewie! how I long to see him; and yet how I dread the first meeting, oh! if that were only over!”
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Mr. Wharton and Agnes drove over to Hillsdale. Agnes shuddered, and turned pale, as they drew near the gloomy jail with its iron-barred windows, and closing her eyes she silently prayed for strength and calmness for the meeting with her brother. Mr. Wharton conducted her to the door of the room in which her brother was confined, and left her there, as he knew they would both prefer that their first meeting should be without witnesses. In one respect Agnes was agreeably disappointed; she had expected to find her brother in a close, dark dungeon; and was much surprised to find herself in a pleasant, light room, with table, books, writing materials, and everything very comfortable about him; the only things there to remind her that she was in a prison, being the locked door, and the grated window.
Agnes had been preparing herself ever since she first received the tidings of her brother's arrest, for this meeting; and she went through it with a calmness and composure which astonished herself. But poor Lewie was completely overcome. He knew his sister would come to him; but he had not expected her so soon, and the first intimation he had of her arrival, was the sight of her upon the threshold of his door.
”Poor Agnes! poor dear sister!” said he, as soon as he could speak; ”what have I ever been from my childhood up, but a source of trouble and distress to you. You were punished for my ungoverned temper all through your childhood; you are suffering for it now; you will have to suffer for it more, till your bloom is all gone, and you are worn to a skeleton. If I had dared, Agnes--if I had dared, I should have put an end to this mortal existence; and thus I should have saved you all this coming disgrace and misery. But I had not the courage to lay violent hands upon myself, and go, a deliberate suicide, into the presence of my Maker. I have tried all other means; I have gone through exposure and fatigue, which at any other time I know would have killed me; I have laid out all night in the rain; _I_, who used to be so susceptible to cold, but nothing seemed to hurt me. I have been reserved for other and more terrible things. And you, Agnes, who are always kind, and forbearing, and self-sacrificing, it seems to be your fate ever to suffer and endure for others. Oh, my sister, you deserve a happier lot!”
”Don't talk so, dear Lewie!” said Agnes; ”you have given me very many happy hours, and all the little troubles of 'long, long ago' are forgotten. And now, what greater pleasure can I have than that of sitting with you here, working and reading, and trying to wile away the tedious hours of your captivity?”
”Agnes! this must not be! I cannot allow it. It will brighten the whole day for me, if you will come and spend an hour or two with me every morning; but I cannot consent that you shall be immured for the whole day in the walls of this gloomy prison-house.”
”But what can you do, Lewie? I am going to be obstinate for once, and take my own course. Uncle will drive me over every morning, and come for me at night; and I am going to enjoy a pleasure long denied me, of spending every day with my darling brother.”
”Oh, Agnes! this is too, too much!”
”Not too much at all, Lewie. Do you think I could be happy anywhere else than with you? What should I do at uncle's but roam the house, restless and impatient, every moment I am absent from you? And the nights will seem so long, because they separate me from you!”
”Oh! how utterly undeserving!--how _utterly undeserving_ such love and devotion!” said Lewie, pacing up and down the room. ”Sweet sister!--dearest Agnes!--now has my prison lost all its gloom; and were it not for the future, I might be happier here than when out in the world; for temptation here is far from me, and only good influences surround me.”
”And what of the future, dear?”
”Of my trial, Agnes? Well, I hardly know what to say. My friends and lawyers try to keep up my spirits, and mention to me many hopeful things; and, for the time, I too feel encouraged. But I can think of many things that a skilful lawyer can bring up against me, and which would weigh very heavily. I am trying to think of the _worst_ as a _probability_; so that if it comes, I shall not be overwhelmed.”
”Oh!” said Agnes, shuddering, and covering her eyes, as if to shut out some horrid spectacle, ”it cannot be! I cannot bring myself to contemplate it for a moment!”
”And yet it _may be_, Agnes! or they may spare my life, and doom me to wear out long years of imprisonment, and then send me out into the world a blighted and ruined man! That is the best I can hope for; and but for the disgrace which would come upon me, I should say the sudden end is better.”
”And what of the future _after that_, Lewie? for that, after all, is the great concern.”
”The _eternal future_ you mean, Agnes. Ah! my sister, the prospect there is darker and more dreary still. I know enough of religion to feel a.s.sured that my short life has not been spent in the way to prepare me for a future of happiness; and I am not yet so hardened as to pretend not to dread a future of misery.”
”G.o.d grant such may not be your fate, dear brother. Whether life be long or short, happy or sorrowful, our future depends upon heart-felt repentance here, and faith in the 'sinner's Friend.' You have now time for quiet and reflection. Oh! improve it dear Lewie, in so humbling yourself before Him whom you have offended, and in so seeking for pardon, that He will bless you and grant you peace.”
”I see, Agnes,” said her brother, with a sad smile, ”you want me to follow in the footsteps of all other offenders and criminals, who, after doing all the mischief possible, and living for their own selfish gratification while abroad in the world, spend the time of their imprisonment in acts of penitence and devotion, and go out of the world, as they all invariably do, in the full odor of sanct.i.ty, in peace with G.o.d, and in charity with men.”
<script>