“I may not go, I may not go, Where the sweet-breathing spring-winds blow; Nor where the silver clouds go by, Across the holy, deep blue sky; Nor where the sunshine, warm and bright Comes down, like a still shower of light; I must stay here In prison drear; Oh! heavy life, wear on, wear on, Would God that thou wert gone.” —FANNY KEMBLE. They reached Brook Farm late in the evening, and here the greeting, though not as noisy and joyous, was warmer, and if possible more affectionate than ever. They all loved Lewie in spite of his many faults, and their sympathy was most sincere and hearfelt for Agnes, who was very dear to them all. As soon as Agnes could speak to Mr. Wharton alone, she said: “Uncle, have you seen him?” “Every day, dear Agnes, and have been with him some hours each day.” “And how does he feel, dear Uncle?” “Relieved, I think, on the whole; that the suspense is over thus far. He says he would not live over again the last three weeks for worlds. Many and many a time he had almost resolved to return and give himself up for trial; but the thought of you, Agnes, prevented. He said that you must be a sharer in all his trouble and disgrace, and if he could spare your distress and suffering, by escaping from the country, he meant to try and do it, and then he would soon be forgotten, except by the few who cared for him.” “And how does he feel about the—the result, uncle?” “Hopeful, I think; he seems to think it cannot be brought in murder, when murder was so far from his intention.” “And what do _you_ think, uncle?” “I am inclined to think with Lewie, dear; there is always a leaning towards mercy, and your brother has counsel, the very best in the State.” “Oh, uncle, how very kind! how can we ever repay you for your kindness?” “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!”