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.

They reached the Capitol that afternoon; and Agnes, who felt that she had very little time to spare, left the hotel a few moments after their arrival in the city, and, leaning on her uncle's arm, sought the Governor's house. Agnes felt her heart die within her as she ascended the broad flight of marble steps. Years had pa.s.sed, and many changes had taken place since she had met Ruth Glenn. Would she find her again in the Governor's lady?

Mrs. F---- was at home, and Mr. Wharton left Agnes at the door, thinking that, on all accounts, the interview had better be private. "He should return for her in an hour or two," he said, "when he intended to call upon the Governor, who had once been a cla.s.s-mate and intimate friend."

Having merely sent word by the servant that an old friend wished to see Mrs. F----, Agnes was shown into a large and elegantly-furnished parlor, to await her coming. In a few moments, she heard a light step descending the stairs, and the rustling of a silk dress, and the Governor's lady entered the room.

Could it be possible that this blooming, elegant, graceful woman was the pale, nervous Ruth Glenn, whom Agnes had befriended at Mrs. Arlington's school? To account for this extraordinary change, we must go back a few years, which we can fortunately do in a few moments, and give a glance at Ruth Glenn's history.

She had left school almost immediately after Agnes and her cousins, having been recommended by Mrs. Arlington to a lady who was looking for a governess to her children. Here she became acquainted with a lawyer who visited frequently at the house; a middle-aged man, and a widower, who was just then looking out for some one to take care of himself and his establishment. By one of those unaccountable whims which men sometimes take, this man (who, from his position and wealth, might have won the hand of almost any accomplished and dashing young lady of his acquaintance,) was attracted towards the plain, silent governess, and he very soon, to the astonishment of all, made proposals to her, which were accepted.

Soon after their marriage, business made it necessary for Mr. F---- to go to Europe, and Ruth accompanied him. A sea voyage and two years'

travel abroad entirely restored her health, and with it came, what her husband had never looked for--_beauty_; while the many opportunities for improvement and cultivation which she enjoyed, and the good society into which she was thrown, worked a like marvellous change in her manners.

All her nervous diffidence banished, and in its place she had acquired a dignified self-possession and grace of manner, which fitted her well for the station of influence she was to occupy. Soon after her return, her husband was elected Governor; and the city was already ringing with praises of the loveliness and affability of the new Governor's wife.

No wonder, then, that as Agnes rose to meet her they stood looking at each other in silence for a moment; Agnes vainly endeavoring to discover a trace of Ruth Glenn in the easy and elegant woman before her, and Mrs.

F---- trying to divine who this guest who had called herself an old friend might be.

For sickness and sorrow had changed Agnes too. Her bright bloom was all gone; her charming animation of manner had given place to a settled sadness; and though still most lovely, as she stood in her deep mourning dress, she was but a wreck of the Agnes Elwyn of former years.

But when after a moment Agnes said, "Ruth, do you not know me?"

The scream of delight with which Ruth opened her arms, and clasped her to her breast, crying out, "_Agnes Elwyn!_--my dear, dear Agnes!"

convinced her that in heart at least her old school-mate was unchanged.

Ruth immediately took Agnes to her own room, that they might be undisturbed, for she guessed at once her purpose in coming; and then Agnes opened to her her burdened heart; relating all her brother's history; telling her of his naturally strong pa.s.sions, and saying all that was necessary to say, in justice to her brother, of the injudicious training he had received; at the same time treating her mother's memory with all possible delicacy and respect.

"And now, dear Ruth," she said, "I do not come to ask that my young brother shall be permitted to walk forth to do like evil again;--there would be no danger of that, even if he were not greatly changed, as I solemnly believe he is, in heart and temper; for his doom is sealed; consumption is wasting his frame;--we only ask that we may carry him forth to die and be buried among his kindred. Oh! how he pines for the free air and the blue sky, and longs to die elsewhere than in a condemned cell! If I might be permitted to remove him to my uncle's kind home, where he could have comforts and friends about him, I could close his eyes, it seems to me, with thankfulness, for I do believe that the Christian's hope is his."

Ruth's sympathizing tears had been flowing down her cheeks, as, with her hand clasping that of Agnes, she had listened to her sad story. She now rose, and said she would go to her husband, who was slightly indisposed, and confined to his room, and prepare him to see Agnes. "And do, Agnes, talk to him just as you have done to me," she said. "He is called a stern man; but he has tender feelings, I can a.s.sure you, if the right chord is only touched."

Ruth was gone a long time, and Agnes walked the floor of her room in a state of suspense and agitation only equalled by that of the night after the trial. At length Ruth returned: she looked sad and troubled.

"Agnes," said she, "you must see my husband yourself, and say to him all you have said to me. He is deeply grateful for all you have done for me, and would do anything in the world for you except what he thinks, or what he seems to think, would be yielding to the call of feeling at the expense of justice. He says his predecessor has been much censured for so often granting pardons to criminals, especially to any who had influential friends; and I fear that, in avoiding his errors, he will go to the opposite extreme. He remembers your brother's case well, and says, that though it could not be called _deliberate_ murder, still it was murder; and he agrees with the lawyer, Mr. G----, that some signal reproof should be given to this practice among the young men of carrying about them offensive weapons. This is all he said; but he has consented to see you, and is expecting you. I shall leave you alone with him; and oh! Agnes, do speak as eloquently as you did to me. I know he cannot resist it."

The Governor, a tall, fine-looking man, was wrapped in his dressing-gown, and seated in his easy chair. He rose to receive Agnes, gave her a cordial welcome as a friend to his wife, and bade her take a seat beside him; but there was something in his look which said, that he did not mean to be convinced against his better judgment by two women.

Agnes was at first too much agitated to speak; but the Governor kindly re-a.s.sured her, by asking her some questions about her brother's case, and soon she thought of nothing but him; her courage all revived; and with an eloquence the more effective from being all unstudied, she told her brother's story to the Governor. "He is so young," said she, "only eighteen years old; and yet he must die. But, oh! sir, if you would but save him from being dragged in his weakness to a death of shame, or from lingering out his few remaining days in that close, dark cell; oh! if he might only die free!"

"Ruth tells me," said the Governor, quietly, "that your uncle, Mr.

Wharton, is with you. Is it William Wharton, of C---- County?"

Agnes answered in the affirmative.

"Once a very good friend of mine," said he; "but it is many years since we have met. Where is he?"

"He came to the door with me," answered Agnes, "and will return for me soon. He hoped to have the pleasure of seeing you, sir."

"I will see him when he comes," said the Governor. "Go you back to Ruth, my dear young lady. I will think of all you have said."