Lewie; Or, The Bended TwigBradford, Sarah H. (Sarah Hopkins)
General
Lewie; Or, The Bended Twig
Bradford, Sarah H. (Sarah Hopkins)
Fiction
The prisoner was led back to the jail; the jury retired; and it being
now evening, the court room was deserted.
XIX.
The Sealed Paper.
“Sister, thy brother is won by thee.”—MRS. HEMANS.
The verdict would not be made known till the next morning. Oh! what a
night of mental torture was that to the devoted sister of the prisoner!
The terrible suspense left it out of her power to remain quiet for a
moment, but she restlessly paced the room, watching for the dawn of
day, and yet dreading the signs of its approach. Her aunt, who remained
with her during that anxious night, endeavored as well as she could to
soothe and calm her excited feelings; but how little there was to be
said; she could only point her to the Christian’s never-failing trust
and confidence; and it was only by constant supplications for strength
from on high, as she walked the room, that Agnes was enabled to retain
the slightest appearance of composure, or, as it seemed to her, to keep
her brain from bursting.
The longest night will have an end, and morning at length dawned on the
weary eyes of the watchers. The family rose and breakfasted early, for
an intense excitement reigned throughout the house. Agnes begged to be
allowed to remain in her own room; and though, in compliance with the
entreaties of her friends, she endeavored to eat, she could not swallow
a morsel. Mr. Wharton came early; and soon after breakfast, he and Dr.
Rodney went out. At nine o’clock the court were to assemble, 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 pass 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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