Part 20 (1/2)

Rodney went out. At nine o'clock the court were to a.s.semble, to hear the verdict; and from that moment, Agnes seated herself at the window, with her hands pressed on her aching forehead, and her eyes straining to catch the first glimpse of them as they returned.

She sat thus for an hour or more at the window, and at the end of that time the crowds began to pa.s.s the house, and she soon caught sight of Dr. Rodney and her uncle. They did not hasten as if they had joyful news to tell, and as Agnes in her agitation rose as they approached the gate, and watched their faces as they came up the gravel walk, she saw there enough to tell her the whole story; and pressing both hands upon her heart she sat down again, for she had no longer strength to stand.

In a few moments she heard her uncle's step coming slowly towards her room. As the door opened very gently she did not raise her head; it had fallen upon her breast, and she was asking for strength to bear what she knew was coming. When at length she looked towards her uncle she saw him standing with his hand still on the lock, and gazing at her intently.

His face was of an ashy paleness, and he seemed irresolute whether to approach her or to leave the room.

”Uncle,” gasped Agnes, ”do not speak now; there is no need; I see it all,” and slowly she fell to the floor and forgot her bitter sorrow in long insensibility. When she recovered it was nearly mid-day, and only her aunt was sitting by her bedside.

”Aunty,” said she, as if bewildered, ”what time is it?” Her aunt told her the time.

”And is it possible,” said Agnes, ”that I have slept so late?” and then pressing her hands to her head, she said:

”Who said '_condemned_' and '_sentenced_?'”

”No one has said those words to you, dear Agnes,” said Mrs. Wharton.

”But oh, aunty!” she exclaimed, seizing Mrs. Wharton's hand, ”it is _true_, is it not? Yes, I know it is. My poor young brother! And here I have been wasting the time when he wants me so much. I must get up this moment and go to him.”

Her aunt endeavored to persuade her to remain quiet, telling her that Mr. Malcolm was with Lewie, and that he was not left alone for a moment.

Agnes insisted, however, upon rising, but on making the attempt her head became dizzy and she sank back again upon her pillow; and this was the beginning of a brain fever, which kept her confined to her bed in unconscious delirium for more than three weeks. In her delirium she seemed to go back to the days of her childhood, and live them over again with all the trouble they caused her young heart. Sometimes she fancied herself a lonely prisoner again in the cold north room, and sometimes pleading with her little brother, and begging him to ”be a good boy, and to try and not be so cross.” At one time Dr. Rodney had little hope of her life, and after that he feared permanent loss of reason, but in both fears he was disappointed. Agnes recovered at length, and with her mind as clear as ever.

During the days when she was convalescing, but still too weak to leave her bed, her impatience to get to her brother was so great, that the doctor feared it would r.e.t.a.r.d her recovery. It could not be concealed from her that Lewie was ill, and the consciousness that she was so necessary to him, made it the more difficult for Agnes to exercise that patience and calmness which were requisite to ensure a return of her strength. Lewie had taken to his bed, immediately after his return to the jail, on the morning of the sentence, and had not left it since. He seemed fast sinking into a decline, and much of the good doctor's time was taken up in ministering at the bed-side of the brother and sister.

At length Agnes was so much better that the doctor consented to her paying her brother a visit. She found him in the condemned cell, but no manacles were necessary to fetter his limbs, for a chain stronger than iron bolts confined him to his bed, and that strong chain was perfect weakness. Though his cell was darker and more dungeon-like, yet through the kindness of friends the sick young prisoner was made as comfortable as possible. By a very strong effort Agnes so far commanded herself as to retain an appearance of outward composure, during that first meeting after so long and so eventful a separation; and now began again the daily ministrations of Agnes at the bed-side of her brother, for in consideration of his feeble condition his sister was permitted to remain with him constantly.

Lewie knew that he was failing; ”I think,” said he to Agnes, ”that G.o.d will call for my spirit before the time comes for man to set it free.

But oh! Agnes, if I could once more look upon the green earth, and the blue sky, and breathe the pure fresh air; and die _free_.”

It was after longings for freedom like these, that when Agnes returned to Dr. Rodney's one evening, (for ever since the trial, at the earnest request of the kind doctor and his wife, she had made their house her home except when with her brother,) she found her cousin Grace, who often came over to pa.s.s the night with her, waiting her arrival with tidings in her face.

”Agnes,” said she, ”I have heard something to-day which may possibly cast a ray of hope on Lewie's case yet.”

”What can it be, dear Grace?” asked Agnes.

”Who do you think the new Governor's wife is, Agnes?”

”I am sure I cannot imagine.”

”Do you remember that strange girl, Ruth Glenn?”

”Certainly.”

”Well, it is she. Only think how strange! I have no idea how much influence she has with the Governor; but unless she has changed wonderfully in her feelings, she would do anything in the world to serve you, Agnes, as she ought.”

”Oh, blessings on you, Grace! I will go; there _may_ be hope in it; and if poor Lewie could only die free; for die he must, the doctor a.s.sures me--perhaps before the flowers bloom.”

”Father will go with you, Agnes. I have been talking with him about it.”

”Oh, how very, very kind you all are to us!” said Agnes. ”Then, no time must be lost, Grace; and if uncle will go with me, we will start as early as possible in the morning.”

Agnes rose early the next morning, with something like a faint tinge of color in her cheek, lent to it by the excitement of hope; and after visiting her brother, to give some explanation of the cause of her absence, she took her seat in the carriage by her uncle, for they must ride some miles in order to reach the cars.